A door in the back wall led down a short hallway to the restrooms. But someone stood blocking the doorway. Jayce Torro, Bensin’s biggest rival, leaned against the doorjamb and watched his approach, arms folded, a sneer on his face.
“So you won, Collar. You must be awfully proud of yourself.”
Bensin was under standing orders not to talk to Jayce before or during competitions, but it was hard to avoid talking to someone who was blocking your way. “Let me by.”
“I don’t take orders from slaves.” The sneer deepened. “You win one match and all of a sudden you think you can start ordering free people around?”
“I’ve won eleven matches in this tournament so far,” Bensin corrected stiffly. “And you’ve won ten.”
“Yeah, well, it’s gonna be eleven in a few minutes. And by the end of next weekend, it’ll be fifteen. You, on the other hand, are going down. In the unlikely event that you make it through three more, I’ll be waiting for you in the finals. And we both know what’s gonna happen then.”
Bensin looked him in the eye. “Yeah, we do. The same thing that happened four years ago.”
Jayce flushed under his dark skin, and Bensin knew he’d gotten to him. Bensin had beaten him that time, winning not only the Grand Imperial but Ellie’s freedom. Though his rival had seriously injured him in the process, Bensin’s victory was all the sweeter because Jayce had disqualified himself through unsportsmanlike behavior and forfeited his silver trophy.
“Yeah, you were hobbling around on crutches after I got through with you last time,” Jayce retorted, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation. “You couldn’t compete in anything for months. Just wait till next weekend, Collar. It’s gonna be even worse for you then. If you make it till next weekend.” He sneered again as though he knew something Bensin didn’t. “I’m going to go warm up for my next victory. See you in the finals … maybe.” He marched away.
Just you wait, Bensin thought as he splashed water on his hot face a moment later in the bathroom. I’ll show you next week. He dipped his whole head under the faucet, letting the cool water rinse the sweat from his hair and neck. Everything will be different after next week.
Straightening, he looked at his reflection in the mirror, short blond hair plastered to his head, the beginnings of a bruise rising on his right cheekbone. He fingered the steel collar that had ringed his neck for almost as long as he could remember, trying to picture how he would look without it. One more week and it will be gone. If everything worked out the way it was supposed to.
It would be strange not wearing his own name around his neck anymore for everyone to see. People won’t know who I am until they get to know me. The new me. Come to think of it, Bensin was looking forward to getting to know the new him, too. He would get to choose a last name, though he hadn’t decided which one he wanted yet. Perhaps ‘Mayvins’ to honor Coach and match Ellie, or perhaps something totally different. It will be completely up to me. With the new name would come a whole new identity as a free person. He could hardly wait to see what that felt like.
Outside the restrooms, Bensin nearly bumped into a man standing right where Jayce had stood a moment earlier. The man was wearing a scarlet polo shirt with the Red Arena logo on it, which probably meant that he worked here.
“Excuse me, sir.” Bensin tried to step around him.
But the man moved to block his way. “Where is your owner?”
Am I in trouble? Slaves weren’t supposed to be seen in public without their owners unless they had a pass, but nobody ever made an issue of that during a tournament.
“He’s right out there in the Cave, sir. I just stepped away for a moment. I’m a competitor here, sir, and I –”
“Yes, I know who you are. I just need to know where to find Steene Mayvins. Take me to him.”
How does he know Coach’s name? Bensin couldn’t remember having seen this man before. Of course, his owner’s name was printed on his collar tag right below his own name, but the man hadn’t even glanced at his collar.
“Yes, sir. He’s over there.” Bensin pointed, and the man gestured for him to lead the way.
Coach and the others were waiting right where Bensin had left them. “Better start icing that ankle again,” Coach advised, bending to open their ice chest and pull out the icepacks they had picked up at the first aid table earlier. “And maybe your thigh, too. I saw you take a hard kick there. Now, I know you want to stay through Jayce’s match, but we’ll head home right after that so you can put your leg up. No point in waiting around to the bitter end and getting stuck in all the exit traffic again.”
“Excuse me,” put in the man who had followed Bensin over. He shouldered his way forward and stuck out a hand. “Steene Mayvins? I’m Gile Murton, gladiator manager here at Red Arena.”
“Oh.” Coach handed Bensin the icepacks and shook hands, his expression puzzled. “Okay. Nice to meet you.”
“Congratulations on your slave’s performance today. His skills are impressive, and it’s obvious he’s had the benefit of some excellent training.”
You could almost see Coach swelling with pride. “Thanks! Yeah, he’s sure been doing great. I couldn’t be more proud. We’ve been working really hard for this, and I fully expect him to take first place next weekend.”
“Me too,” whispered Ellie from beside Bensin.
“It will be his second time,” Coach went on. “He won back when he was fourteen, as well.”
“Yes, I know. The Grand Imperial was held in Red Arena that year, too. But due to an injury sustained in the final match, he was unable to compete for much of the next year. Though he did qualify for the Grand Imperial a year later in Blue Arena, he lost in the second rung. The year after that, fighting in the under-eighteen age group in Green Arena, he made it all the way to the seventh rung. Last year in Yellow Arena he came in third.”
They were all staring at the man now. “I make it my business to follow the careers of promising slave fighters,” Mr. Murton explained to Coach. “As you may know, Red Arena’s gladiators have a reputation for being the finest warriors in the business. Occasionally, when we see someone who we believe would be a good fit for our arena, we make his owner an offer.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Coach. “Regardless of how much further your slave advances in this year’s tournament, we’ve seen all we need to. If you’re interested in selling, we’ll make it more than worth your while.”
But Coach was already shaking his head. “No. Thank you, but Bensin’s not for sale.”
“Think it over,” the man urged. “You don’t have to decide right now. Red Arena has a large budget, and we’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse. Or name your price.”
“I’m already refusing.” Coach handed the card back. “Bensin’s practically my son; I mean, I adopted his sister and everything. I’m not selling him. Besides, after next weekend, I’m setting him free. He just has to win enough prize money first for me to buy a new truck. My current one isn’t going to last much longer.”
“Red Arena would pay you enough to buy several brand new vehicles. At least keep us in mind if he doesn’t win.”
The man tried to hand the card to him again, but Coach shook his head and wouldn’t take it. “No. I’m sorry; I’m not even going to consider it.”
“All right, then.” Mr. Murton crouched down in front of Bensin, who was icing his injuries on the floor. Smiling, he held the card out to him instead. “Bensin. Congratulations on your upcoming change in status. Considering the talent you’ve shown so far, I have no doubt that you’re going to win next weekend and earn your freedom. Once you’re at liberty to make your own choices, keep Red Arena in mind. We mostly buy slaves, but we do occasionally sign contracts with free athletes. It would be a lifetime commitment, but we pay in advance, and I think you’ll find you’d be getting quite a deal. Why, you could put your sister through college with what we’re prepared to offer.”
From the corner of his e
ye, Bensin could see Coach frowning, but he took the card. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
“Please do,” Mr. Murton urged, still smiling. “It’s obvious how much you love cavvara shil. Can you imagine being able to spend all day at it? No more hiring out, no more chores around the house. Nothing but training and competing in the sport you love, all day, every day, for the rest of your life, surrounded by people who feel the same way.”
“Sounds great.” Bensin slipped the card into his pocket. “Thank you, sir.”
“Call me Gile.” The man stuck out his hand, and Bensin shook it. It was always a little weird shaking hands with free people, but it felt good. “It was nice meeting you, Bensin. I can’t wait to watch you win next weekend, but remember, we’ll be glad to take you no matter how you do.” With a last smile, the man stood up and walked away, sparing not another glance for Coach Steene.
Coach was still frowning. “You should throw that card away. You don’t want to be a gladiator.”
“How do you know what I want, Coach?” Bensin looked up at him, feeling daring. “Isn’t it my call to make? I mean, once I’m free. You said I can decide what I want to do with my own life, right?”
“Well, yes. But a gladiator?”
They were interrupted by a burst of applause and cheers as the match in progress ended. Everyone turned to watch as the young woman who had won trotted back toward the Competitors’ Cave, her vanquished opponent limping slowly behind her.
Jayce is on next. Bensin could see him at the other end of the room, stretching, twirling his cavvarach.
“Do you think he’s gonna win?” wondered Ellie, following her brother’s gaze.
“Yeah, I’m sure he is. Jayce almost always wins.”
“But he won’t win the whole thing. You will. You’ll beat him up next Sunday in the finals, and that’ll show him.”
Bensin laughed. “I’m glad my sister has so much faith in me.”
Ellie and Coach went over to the opening for a better view as Jayce and his opponent jogged out onto the sand. When the two of them were out of earshot, Ricky sat down by Bensin. “You aren’t really going to call that guy and become a gladiator after you’re free, are you?”
Bensin adjusted the ice on his ankle. “I don’t know. Probably not. It’s fun to think about, though. ‘Bensin the Gladiator’ has a nice ring to it.” And it would be something to impress the girls with. And it was kind of exciting to think that he might actually be able to catch the attention of free girls.
“Dude, you’re lucky your owner’s as nice as he is. If I’d talked back to my owner the way you just did, he probably would have given me a couple extra hours of work and half a dozen lashes. And he said you’re like a son to him. Wow.”
Bensin shrugged again. “Yeah, Coach Steene’s okay. We get along most of the time, and he’s a good coach. But it gets annoying sometimes, having him act like he’s still in control of everything in my life even though I’m about to be free.”
Ricky shook his head wistfully. “I’m telling you, bro, you don’t know how lucky you are. The fact that he’s even going to let you go free! So then what are you going to do? If you don’t become a gladiator, that is.”
“I’ll most likely keep working at the West Jarreon Center for Sports and Fitness, like I do now. Mr. Drogum has already agreed to keep me on, even though he’ll have to pay more. I’ll still be a TA for the classes I help with now, but he said they can probably give me some additional hours. There are a lot of advanced students who want extra training every day beyond their regular classes. Most free people don’t like the idea of one-on-one coaching from a slave, but he said once I’m free, some of the kids there would probably sign on with me.”
“Dude, that’s so awesome.” Ricky sighed. “I’ll tell you what my plans for the future are. I’m going to keep working construction six days a week, sixteen or seventeen hours a day. Someday when my body breaks down under the strain, my owner will sell me somewhere where the work is less physically demanding, like a factory. Then I’ll spend the rest of my life working on some assembly line, and when I get too old or feeble for that, they’ll take me to get the shot that will finally put me out of my misery so they can donate whatever of my organs are still functioning to free people who deserve them more.”
“You’re not going to die a slave,” Bensin protested, trying to make them both believe it. “What about that book you’re planning to write? You can buy your freedom when people start buying your book, remember?”
“Ricky’s Rules for Surviving Slavery?” His friend laughed bitterly. “Who am I kidding? No publisher’s going to print a book by a slave, and nobody would buy it even if they did.”
“Hey, your rules are useful,” Bensin objected, trying to cheer his friend up.
“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I don’t mean to complain. I’m happy for you, bro; I really am. Just don’t forget your old buddy Ricky once you’re free, okay?”
“Of course not. You can keep coming over to our apartment on Sundays when you’re off. I’ll still be living there with Ellie and Coach, at least for now. Oh, and if I make it through my two rounds next Saturday, I’ll see if Coach is willing to buy you a ticket again for Sunday. It would be great to have you here for the semifinals and finals.”
“Awesome. That would be really fun.”
They stopped talking to watch the rest of Jayce’s duel. As expected, it wasn’t long before the young Skeyvian disarmed his opponent with a flourish that sent the other guy’s cavvarach spinning across the sand. As he strutted back into the Cave, Jayce spared Bensin an I told you so glance before his parents and coach surrounded him with hugs and congratulations.
“Ready to go?” Coach Steene and Ellie reappeared, and Bensin and his friend rose to their feet. “Ricky, we’d love to have you come back to our place and join us for dinner if you aren’t in a hurry to get home.”
Ricky’s face lit up. “Thanks, Mr. Mayvins; I’d love that. I just have to be back by eight. That’s when my owner locks up.”
“Sounds good. I can drop you off after we eat. Actually, Bensin can drop you off, now that he has his license.”
Bensin grinned. Besides taking Ellie to school, he didn’t have many opportunities to practice his driving without Coach in the car.
“Dinner at your place is always the best,” Ricky told them all as the four of them headed down the dim hallway toward the arena exit. “I sure appreciate it.”
“That’s ’cause everything we eat is healthy,” Ellie told him over her shoulder.
“No, I think it’s because you and your dad and brother are all awesome cooks.”
Coach chuckled as they emerged into the sunlight. “Let me guess: that must be one of those rules of yours. ‘Compliment the chefs and then you’ll be invited over more often,’ or something like that.”
“Rule number eighty-one,” Ricky agreed. “Hey, it’s been working so far.”
Out in the sunbaked parking lot, they tossed the gear in the back of the old blue pickup truck as Coach pulled out his keys. “I hope you boys don’t mind riding in the back again,” he apologized as he unlocked the passenger door for Ellie.
“Can’t I ride back there with them?” she begged. “It’s much more funner in the back.”
“You know the answer to that.” Coach opened the door.
“But it’s not fair. How come Bensin and Ricky don’t have to wear seatbelts?”
“They would if we had enough room for everyone in the cab. But since we don’t, we’ll stick with what the law says. Seatbelts for every free person in the vehicle.”
“Don’t worry, Ellie. It will be fair after next weekend,” Bensin reminded her, climbing onboard beside Ricky. That’s when everything will finally be fair.
“Oh, yeah. Then you’ll have to stop having fun back there without me.” His sister grinned as she got into the car. She cranked the window down and stuck her head out to call back, “So have a good time while you can!”
“Don’t
stand up after we start going,” Coach warned as he opened his own door.
“I know, Coach. We won’t.”
“And don’t lean on the tailgate. You know how it falls open sometimes.”
Bensin rolled his eyes. “I know, Coach.”
“Dude,” Ricky muttered under his breath as Coach got in. “I’m telling you. Two extra hours and six lashes. At least.”
Watching through the glass, Bensin could see that it took Coach a couple tries before the engine started, and the “check engine soon” light went on when it finally did. It was definitely time they got a new truck. And it’s definitely time I got a new life. One where people can’t tell me what to do all the time. He was more than ready for freedom. He just had to win a few more matches first.
As they pulled out of the parking lot, Bensin looked back toward the huge flattened cylinder that was Red Arena. Even from this distance and over the sound of the truck’s engine, he could hear the excited roar of the audience as some contestant won their match.
It wouldn’t be long until he was back, and what happened next time he was here would determine the course of his future.
I have to win again next time. I have to.
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Copyright
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The Collar and the Cavvarach
Copyright © 2015 by Annie Douglass Lima
All Rights Reserved
About the Author
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Annie Douglass Lima spent most of her childhood in Kenya and later graduated from Biola University in Southern California. She and her husband Floyd currently live in Taiwan, where she teaches fifth grade at Morrison Academy. She has been writing poetry, short stories, and novels since her childhood, and to date has published ten books (one YA action and adventure novel, four fantasies, a puppet script, and four anthologies of her students’ poetry). Besides writing, her hobbies include reading (especially fantasy and science fiction), scrapbooking, and international travel.
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