Tainted Blood Anthology

by Jeff Gunzel

  Viola slid a waiting bowl underneath her chin and began carving out small spoonfuls. The porridge was sweet and thick, just the way she liked it.

  “So you’re really the thing this whole city has been raging over?” asked the warrior, breaking the silence. He gazed at her through a veil of sandy-blond hair, the stringy strands keeping his eyes only partially visible. “Don’t look so special to me. A freak of nature? No doubt. But the real question about a thing like you is...” Moving with exaggeratedly slow, he dipped his head beneath the table. “Does a freak like you have all your girl parts intact? If so, I just might find a use for you after all.” Even though she was sure he couldn’t see anything, Viola instinctively pressed her knees together while tugging down on her tunic.

  “Ignore Umoro over there,” said the man seated directly across from her. “That beast practically lives here. Every year he is sent back to the pit for one reason or another. Hell, he has been here so long he thinks he owns the place.” Umoro clicked his teeth and raised his eyebrows at Viola. She jerked her gaze away, then tried to look casual by staring down into her bowl.

  “Name’s Nald,” he said, offering his hand. Even sitting down, she could see how tall he was. Nearly as tall as Umoro, but slight of build and with thick dark hair. In shaking his hand, she noticed how soft his palms were. This was not a man who had done much hard work in his day.

  “Viola,” she replied, meeting his eyes intermittently. She was uncomfortable around people anyway, and in this situation it was simply impossible to make a casual introduction.

  “Oh, we are well aware of who you are,” Nald replied with a wink. He didn’t seem to be afraid of her. That was something, at least. “That’s one thing the mountain over there got right.” He pointed back to Umoro. “By now, the whole city knows who you are. You’re already a legend before even competing in the pit.”

  “Of course she is,” the man next to him interrupted. “They can’t believe a second of her kind has been discovered. Hell, even though I see you sitting right here, I’m not sure I believe it myself.” Reddish-blond hair slicked back into a long ponytail, this rotund man had clearly not missed many meals. His look alone proved to her once again that this was not necessarily a group of fighters. But he looked more out of place than anyone else. Who could he have been matched up with that he survived his test? An old woman perhaps?

  “And this fit fellow here goes by the name of Kalmton,” said Nald, patting the man on the stomach to purposely make his soft body wiggle. Taking offense, Kalmton hooked his bowl and scooted away a spot or two down the bench.

  “He doesn’t talk too much, but I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing,” Nald continued. Kalmton shot him another look, then turned away and continued devouring his porridge. “Now that these boring introductions are out of the way, I wanted to ask you a more pressing question—the one on everyone’s mind, but they don’t dare ask. What are you, exactly? Are the rumors true? Are you the same species as the creature who fought here before you?”

  Even more uncomfortable than before, Viola shied away. “If you don’t mind, I really don’t feel like talking about any of that right n— Hey...” She realized her spoon was missing. Right out of her hand, no less. “Please give it back.”

  “I will, just as soon as you answer my simple question. Are you the same species as he?”

  “Give her back her spoon!” Salina ordered, having seen enough of this.

  “Hey!” Viola protested, her voice rising in pitch. Just like that, her bowl was suddenly gone too.

  “Can you guess what got me thrown in here?” Nald asked, holding up two empty hands, fingers twiddling. Viola had seen Xavier do similar things before. Sleight of hand, misdirection, done mostly by making the spectator follow where he was looking. The eyes were just as important as the hands during these deceptions. Xavier was very good at these parlor tricks, but this man had practically swiped two separate items right out of her hands without her even noticing. Nald here was simply another level altogether.

  “I might just be the best pickpocket in all of Shadowfen.”

  “Stop this nonsense. Give them back to her already!” Salina shouted, rising from her seat. It wasn’t clear what the older woman could possibly do about it, but she wasn’t going to just stand by either.

  “Fine,” Nald relented, reaching under the table to retrieve both items. “Look, we’re all in the same boat here.” He placed the spoon back in the bowl and slid them back in front of Viola. “Honestly, I wasn’t trying to start any trouble. I’m just trying to make conversation.”

  “So you taunt her by stealing her food?” Salina asked, still standing as if not yet trusting that the situation had been completely defused.

  “Look, I’m the one reaching out here,” said Nald. “In case you hadn’t noticed, this girl has a bit of a reputation in this city. Demon, witch, go on and choose the title of your liking. The fact of the matter is nearly everyone is frightened of her, including me!” Viola looked up at that last comment. He was making perfect sense. She had already grown used to the idea that few would ever tolerate her presence, let alone try to talk to her.

  “Maybe I went about it the wrong way, but at least I was trying. Like it or not, we’re all stuck with each other until our sentences have expired or—” Nald paused. They already knew what the only other way out of here was. “We are all going to have to learn to work together.”

  Nodding her understanding, Salina sat back down.

  “Yes,” Viola replied. More than one confused look glanced her way. She looked up at Nald. “I’m answering your question. You asked me if I was the same species as the man here before me. Yes I am. In fact, he is my brother.” A bold admission, but one she deemed necessary at this point. Nald was right. They were all stuck here together, and any chance of survival hinged on their ability to work together. And in order to work together with as much efficiency as possible, they would have to trust one another. Trust could only be built through honesty. She wouldn’t tell them everything, but enough to prove she was on their side.

  She remembered reading something similar in one of the books Assirra had given her. One of the books about strategy and leadership, if her memory served correctly. Funny how she could remember such things and apply them to real-life situations. Even a month ago her mind would have been incapable of thinking this way.

  “I am to be his replacement in the pit,” said Viola, trying to keep her voice steady as everyone seemed to be hanging on her every word. She hated being the center of attention, but speaking openly felt like a necessity, and she couldn’t let her fears stand in the way. “I suppose that now makes me the main draw for this bloody event.”

  “So it’s true, then,” said Kalmton. “The rumors, I mean. They say he is locked up somewhere beneath the keep. Now that they have a new creatu—” He cleared his throat. “Now that you are here to take his place, they no longer need him. The bloodthirsty mob is ready for fresh meat. So is that part true as well? Is your brother locked away somewhere?”

  “I don’t know where he is,” Viola admitted. She wasn’t lying—she really didn’t know where he was. Although she highly doubted he was being held anywhere. The last time she saw him, he had become a free man at her expense.

  “Enough of this!” said Salina. “You’ve asked more than your fair share of questions. Let the poor girl eat.” They grunted in turn, but didn’t deny her point. Viola flashed her a grateful smile and continued eating. She didn’t regret their talk, though. If nothing else, they had gained some familiarity with one another. Hopefully in time they could build on that.

  “Your mealtime is over!” barked one of the guards standing near the entrance. “It’s time for your marks. Line up and follow me.” Viola quickly scraped the bottom of her bowl, hurrying to shove in her mouth what little remained before sliding out from the bench. They followed the soldier, marching along behind him in a loose line.

  After a short walk they were led into a small side room
. The moment they stepped in, a blast of humid heat smacked them right in the face. The salty scents of heated metal and burning coal hung in the air. A sweaty, shirtless man ignored them as he continued to work. Pumping the bellows with a foot pedal, he turned some kind of handheld poker seated in the glowing embers. A brick shaft rose up over the spread of flickering orange to funnel away the smoke and fumes.

  “Roll up the sleeves of your right arm!” the soldier ordered. They hesitated, not liking the look of this one bit. “Now!” he grunted, grabbing Kalmton from the middle of the line and pushing him towards the hot coals.

  The shirtless man lifted the end of his poker from the coals and raised his shaded goggles to get a good look at the glowing end. Twisted wire in the shape of a clover with a squared center hovered up above the blaze, its angry glow taunting, promising them a most unpleasant experience.

  “No... No!” the portly man protested, whirling around as he tried to run from the room. A heavy knee was pushed into his stomach, driving all the air from his body before he took his first step. But it wasn’t the soldier guarding the entrance who struck him.

  “Get back up there!” said Umoro, snatching the gasping man by the collar and hoisting him back to his feet. With a tug, he tore the sleeve right off Kalmton’s tunic and spun him around. A split second later the glowing brand hissed against his flesh. Kalmton screamed as the tangy scent of burned skin wafted into the air. Umoro held him fast so he couldn’t pull away. After another second or two, which seemed more like minutes, Umoro let go, sending him spinning down to the floor. Whimpering, Kalmton gripped the fresh burn while sitting on the floor.

  The soldier at the door came and helped him to his feet. “Come on then. We have a salve for the pain, but that mark is going to be yours for the rest of your days. Wear it with pride or wear it with shame, but wear it you will.” He led the whimpering man away.

  “Who’s next?” asked the shirtless man, rolling the brand back and forth across the coals. Bits of sticking skin sizzled, black smoke rolling off in rings before the small clumps flaked into ash. With his goggles propped up on his bald head, he seemed indifferent to the whole affair—bored, even, like someone who had done this hundreds of times already.

  Umoro stepped forward and rolled up his sleeve. There on his upper arm was the telltale mark of a man who had been here before. Slightly misaligned, two separate outlines of the branded clover stood out against his tanned skin. The man shook his head and waved him off, continuing to roll the brand in the coals. Already bearing the mark, twice in fact, there was no reason to brand him again. “Who’s next?” he repeated, a bit more impatiently.

  When Salina rolled her sleeve and stepped forward, Viola gently pushed her back with a sweeping hand. “I’ll go next,” said Viola, stepping up to take her place.

  “Ah, the dead girl,” Umoro taunted. When he went to grab her shoulders to hold her still, she shrugged him away. “Very well,” he sneered, sending her stumbling forward with a harsh shove. “But just remember, if you pull away, he will have to do it again. Let’s see if you’re half as strong as your brother was.” She lifted her sleeve to expose her pale arm. Holding the fabric up around her shoulder, she turned to glare at Umoro. She hated him. His arrogance, his bullying; in her mind he represented everything that was wrong with humans. Not all were like him, but she had met enough like him. Her constant mistreatment from men like him was growing tiresome.

  No longer needing her disguise in this place, her red eyes peered back at him through a curtain of white hair. She could sense the shirtless man approaching, the radiating heat of his brand nearing her skin. Still she watched the warrior, refusing to look away, refusing to let him make her feel inferior. How dare you compare me to my brother? He is nothing but a traitorous murderer. I am nothing like him. Nothing!

  She heard the hiss first, an airy sizzle accompanied by light pressure against her arm. Then came the wave of agony. A thousand bees stinging at once. She wanted to leap away, to dive into a cold river to soothe her burn. But she held fast, fingers on both hands flexing open and closed. She blinked, sending a tear rolling down her cheek. She gnashed her teeth, and her face trembled with tension. But all the while, she never once took her eyes off Umoro. His expectant grin melted away, clearly surprised by how well she handled the pain. Scowling now as her unblinking eyes fixed on him, he turned away and left the room.

  Glad to see him storm off, she glanced down at her arm. Steam was still rising from the charred wound. It throbbed, a pulsing pain that just wouldn’t cease. “It’s over,” said Salina, touching her other arm. “You can go get that salve to stop the pain.”

  “I know,” Viola admitted, unable to take her eyes off the clover-shaped burn. It would always be there, she knew. It was part of her now. The pain had been unreal, yet as witnessed by everyone, she was able to deal with it. It was not as bad as the pain caused by her collar when it was activated. Nothing she had ever experienced could top that. There was something empowering in all of this, yet another mental test she had passed, if only in her own mind.

  “Viola?” Salina repeated. Viola looked up from her wound, the tangy scent of burned flesh still heavy in the poorly ventilated room. “Go,” the older woman mouthed silently. Salina managed a weak smile while rolling up her own sleeve. “Nald and I will join you shortly.” Viola nodded and turned to leave. “Oh, Viola.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “You made him very angry.” There was no need to point out who.

  “I know,” Viola replied, smiling despite the burning pain. With that, she hurried off.

  A short way down the hall, she passed another small room by a few steps. If not for seeing Kalmton sitting on the floor from the corner of her eye, she would have missed it entirely. Doubling back, she stepped halfway in before feeling the need to knock on the wall. He looked up, eyes puffy with dried tear tracks running down both cheeks.

  “Kalmton, are you all right?” Viola asked, a genuine look of concern on her face. “Doesn’t the salve work? Are you still in pain?”

  “No,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Aren’t you in pain?”

  She glanced at her arm, the clover’s border starting to swell. “Very much so,” she replied. He barked out a laugh, wiped his wet eyes, and handed her a clear jar filled with a white paste.

  “You’re stronger than me,” he said, leaning back against the wall. “Everyone here is stronger than me. You saw me back there. I screamed like a little girl when they marked me. Even now I don’t know if it was because of the pain, or just because I was terrified.” He looked up at her, glistening eyes threatening to release fresh tears. “I’m going to die in here. Men like me aren’t meant to survive situations like this.”

  She walked over, placed her back against the wall, and slid down to sit beside him. Gathering up a generous portion of the white substance, she slathered it on her burn. Its cooling effects were nearly instant, and it was only at that moment she realized how much pain she had actually been in.

  “I don’t think you’re a coward,” she said, enjoying the effects of the salve as she rubbed it in circles. “What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense to me. The strongest people I’ve ever met get scared sometimes. The way I see it, being afraid when there is good reason is not the same as being a coward. If your claim were true, then everyone in the world is a coward.” He huffed at her innocence, but couldn’t deny that it made him feel a little better.

  “We’re all in this together, right? Your survival means just as much to me as it does to you, so I’ll make a deal with you. Whatever they throw us up against, I’m going to watch your back. That goes for the others too. We need to work together, and as long as we do that, I think we’ll be all right. We came in together, so I say we leave together. Deal?”

  Not sure he believed any of her optimism, but feeling much better than before, he nodded his agreement and patted her on the knee. Whatever she was, he liked this girl. Her charm, her innocence, and her naive optimism somehow provided hi
m with just a glimmer of hope.

  “And I’ll watch your back as well. Uh, what about Umoro?” he asked.

  She crossed her arms and tucked in her legs. “I don’t care what happens to him,” she huffed, looking just like a pouting child. Unable to keep it in, he roared with laughter, nearly doubling over. A second later, they saw Salina and Nald run past the entrance and down the hall. Catching just a glimpse, they too doubled back and streaked inside, each holding one arm.

  “Give us the salve,” Salina demanded, eyes wide and clearly not in the mood for small talk.

  Chapter 8

  Together, the four of them made their way back down the hall. A soldier stood stoically at the crossway, pointing to his left like a frozen statue. They knew exactly where they were being herded to. It was time to train. Luckily the salve had proved to be nothing short of a miracle cream. Their pain was completely gone and the swelling had gone down completely.

  When they stepped out onto the sand, Umoro was already standing in formation waiting for them. The way he had been pushing everyone around, it was easy to forget he was still just a prisoner like the rest of them. Standing before Ozryn with his back straight, arms at his sides, it was clear he had no actual authority here.

  “Fall into line,” Ozryn ordered, snapping his fingers to spots in the sand. Scrambling up, they stood to either side of Umoro while trying to mimic his stance. Even if they didn’t like him, it was still wise to watch his behavior. After all, he was a veteran of this world and was familiar with the procedures.

  Ozryn hooked the lip of the barrel next to him and tipped it over, spilling several wooden practice swords out onto the sand. He eyed Umoro, who promptly stepped forward, chose one quickly, then stepped back into line. Returning to his stiff pose, Umoro pushed his weapon’s tip down into the sand and lifted his chin. Catching on quickly, the others did the same, stepping forward one at a time and quickly choosing a weapon.