by Jeff Gunzel
“We’re just glad you two are all right. We were worried,” Kalmton added.
“Quiet!” a guard barked, slapping Kalmton in the back of the head. Viola flinched. This was her fault, after all. She didn’t want to see the guards taking it out on anyone else. Leave him alone. I’m the one you want. Marching down the familiar path, it was clear they were being led out into the pit. In the middle of the night? Viola swallowed, shaking her head. This was not good. Approaching the gate, they could see orange flickers coming from outside, the sort of dancing light that could only be coming from open flames.
When they stepped out onto the sand, the pit looked unrecognizable. Lit torches were thrown about, illuminating the area in rings of fire. But that wasn’t the only thing that caught their eye. King Milo stood at the center of the pit. Clad from head to toe in purple and white furs, he appeared more suited for an elaborate dinner party than standing out here in the middle of the night. They must have sent for him immediately. The incident had only occurred a few hours ago.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, just behind him stood an even more harrowing sight. Gagged, still naked and bound to a cross, Umoro hung by his arms for all to see. His wound had been healed, but that didn’t seem to matter much now. Terrified eyes swept left and right as he groaned into the wet gag. The night air was pleasantly cool, yet his muscular body glistened with sweat.
“Would anyone care to speak?” the king asked. His voice was calm, but his eyes blazed like the torches at his feet. That glare of his could melt stone. “No? Then allow me to speak first. Have I not been fair to you all thus far?” He paused, daring any to object to the rhetorical question. Of course no one spoke out. “Have you not been fed, clothed, and offered a golden opportunity to atone for your crimes? What more could you have possibly asked for?” He rushed up, causing most of them to rock back on their heels. On a normal day the king’s presence alone could fill up a room. But when he was livid like this, the man was truly intimidating.
“I have much invested here within these walls,” he continued, pacing back and forth before them. “I admit the lives of mere slaves don’t mean all that much to me. That said, you’re totally worthless to me dead. I must do what is necessary to protect my investments. Tonight, that investment has been threatened.” Viola held her breath. “By that slave there!” the king said, pointing back to Umoro. Salina squeezed Viola’s arm assuringly. It appeared the king’s wrath had been directed elsewhere this time.
“So what do I do now?” Milo continued, resting a finger on his bottom lip while mockingly assuming an expression of deep thought. “I’ve tried to be lenient, but it seems that is no longer an option. If I cut him down, will you accept him back into your ranks? Am I to assume that all is forgiven?” Again, he pretended to wait for an answer. Nald and Kalmton still had no idea what he was talking about, but it obviously had something to do with Viola. So far, there were a lot more questions than answers. Milo snapped his fingers as if an idea had just occurred to him. Only a fool couldn’t see through his premeditated actions, but no one was going to say anything.
“Perhaps it is best that one of you should decide his fate,” Milo said, twirling one hand up in the air as if the idea had just come to him. “After all, I do not live among you. Why should I be the one to exact punishment on one of your own?” His cold, calculating gaze shifted towards Viola. “I understand one of you has already been chosen to be your voice in such matters.” He curled a finger, beckoning Viola to come closer.
He stood only ten feet away or so, but the slow, dragging walk felt much further. It was as if he were being inched away from her with each step, drawn back by some unseen puppeteer manipulating a string. When she finally stood before him, the king seemed to loom over her like the shadow of a mountain. “Yes, my king?” she said, nodding while bending at the knees, hands spread wide. She still had not gotten used to the idea of bowing, but this seemed like an appropriate time to make the attempt.
“I know what he tried to do to you this night,” Milo said in a hushed voice, balancing a dagger on the back of his wrist. He rolled it across the backs of his knuckles, his substantial proficiency with the weapon on display. Despite his status and constant protection, the king left little to chance when it came to matters regarding his own life. He was no stranger to weaponry, and had the ability to cross blades with even the finest of his soldiers. Halting the dagger in mid-roll, he pinched its blade between two fingers and extended the hilt end towards Viola. “His life is now yours to do as you wish. It’s not often I make such an offer. Consider it a chance at revenge served to you on a golden platter.” She looked down at the blade, holding it delicately as if it were made of glass.
“I’m not sure what you want me to—” she began.
“Before you decide on the fate of this brute, let me explain the situation more clearly. Your situation. Umoro will die tonight. Whether that is by your hand or by another, his fate has already been sealed. However, if it is not done by your hand, you will appear weak in front of those you are supposed to lead.” Viola spared a glance back, noticing the many curious looks. No doubt this private little talk between her and the king was making everyone nervous.
“And you will also appear weak in front of your king,” he added casually. “He must die because, ultimately, he has assaulted my prized possession. Such a crime cannot go unanswered.
“Look around you, Viola. These faces that have grown so familiar to you are no more than walking ghosts. They are here to serve a temporary purpose. As far as they’re concerned, their job is to absorb teeth, claws, and arrows for the only person who actually counts. I suggest you don’t get too attached to them.”
“What do you mean by that? They’re my friends.”
Milo threw his head back and barked out a laugh. “I’m sure you feel that way. And in a month’s time I imagine you’ll have new friends. Then even more still six months after that. How many friends do you suppose Jarlen watched fall year after year? None of that mattered, and he understood that. Human shields they were, and they served their purpose.
“No one pays me their hard-earned coin to watch humans fight. They can see that in the slums of their own cities. They came to watch that beast in action, to see him do the things no human possibly could. And now...they come to see you. This is your life now, so you better get used to it. Don’t concern yourself with the humans who pass through here year in and year out, only to bleed out on the sand once their purpose has been fulfilled. That’s like worrying about the poor leaves every year. Their inevitable death is unimportant, and certainly not worthy of any compassion.”
He tapped the blade in her hand with two fingers. “Now go, do your king’s bidding and take the credit as well. Let these humans see you take charge of a situation if only to give them false hope. Let them see you take revenge!” Although their conversation was already private, he leaned into her ear and whispered, “Just to be clear, that’s a direct order from your king.”
She caressed the knife in her hand, twisting the handle, its coolness almost feeling wet to the touch. The weight of such an unspeakable order would have crushed her a year ago, even a few months ago. Strange how quickly a person could change when their environment demanded it. She turned away and slowly made her way towards the strung-up warrior. Naked, gagged, hands and feet bound with leather, he began to thrash against his bindings. His pupils shrank down into small specks of black, while the whites of his eyes expanded like saucers.
“Stop moving,” Viola ordered, her voice soft, yet it carried the authority of a general. He did, but the soaked gag pumped in and out of his mouth with each panicked breath. Terror rolled off him in waves, so powerful that it was like an energy she could actually feel. Her red-eyed gaze drifted down his glistening body. Holding the knife in one hand, she slid the other up the inside of his thigh. Her cool fingers slipped along the perspiration before moving up between his legs. Umoro gasped, closing his eyes as he threw his head back against the post.
“Please don’t!” he mumbled through his gag, trembling so hard his cheeks began fluttering.
“I like it when you beg,” she whispered, her fingers firmly massaging his sack. “Such a desperate tactic you humans employ when all appears lost. I wonder, what if I had begged you to stop when you tried to force yourself on me? Would it have made any difference? Does that ever work?”
“Please! Please, you don’t have to do this,” he cried, tears streaming down both cheeks. He began to weep openly.
“Oh, but I do,” she said, even offering a reassuring smile. “Those were the king’s orders, but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Her smile deepened. “I think it’s only fair to tell you, I was going to do it anyway.” She pulled him tight while lifting the blade. After the first deep slice, his member slackened in her hand, but some stubborn skin still kept it attached to the screaming man’s body. It took three more slices before it came free.
His screams sounded distant in her ears, like wind blowing through a valley. There was so much blood she could actually hear the endless trickle smacking the sand beneath him. It sounded like water draining off a rooftop during a heavy rain. She turned away and walked back towards the king.
Arms crossed, Milo looked down at her with pride. “He will bleed to death within the hour,” she said, her voice cold and uncaring. She glanced down, as if just now remembering her hands were still full. She dropped the knife at the king’s feet and tossed the bloody lump of flesh a few feet away. “I have training in the morning,” she said, giving a slight bow, spreading her blood-covered hands out wide. “May I take my leave?”
“Of course you may,” said Milo, rubbing her shoulder fondly. “Sleep well, my dear. You’ve earned it.” She turned and made her way back towards the gated tunnel. None of it felt real. The others parted as she walked between them, allowing her to pass. They too didn’t seem real anymore. Kalmton was bent over throwing up, but she didn’t want to look at him. Salina was yelling something right in her face as she passed, but all the sound was drowned out. Like standing near the ocean, all she heard was the hollow sounds of breaking water echoing through her head. None of it felt real.
* * *
Morning came soon enough and it was time to get ready for another hard day. The four remaining combatants sat around the table, eating in awkward silence. The occasional wandering eye flickered towards Umoro’s empty seat before dropping back down into a bowl of cold porridge. They knew what they had seen, but refused to accept it.
“That’s enough stuffing your faces!” called Ozryn from down the hall. “Get out here and fall in line.” Shoving half-full bowls to the center of the table, everyone stood and made their way out towards the pit. Ozryn gave each one their own personalized sneer as they passed him. But when Viola tried to pass, he stabbed her chest with a stout finger. “Not you,” he growled, pointing back the way she’d come . “You know where you’re going. Now move it!”
Wilting with the order she’d come to dread each day, she turned away and proceeded back down the hall. Her feet dragged, each step heavier than the last. But even at her impossibly slow pace, she found herself standing outside the dreaded chamber after what felt like only a few seconds. She could see both Kuuma and Diovok waiting inside. With a slow hand, Diovok summoned her in.
Head drooping, she dragged herself through the doorway and kneeled before the familiar bench she had seen so many times before. Dropping to her knees, she recalled an old phrase muttered often by humans. It’s amazing what you can get used to. For a long time she didn’t understand what that was supposed to mean. Now, its meaning seemed so obvious it made her want to laugh.
The first time she had undergone this procedure, she truly believed her heart might stop. It was the most hellish experience of her life. So much pain at once was not a thing any living being was ever meant to endure. But whether it was just some defensive trick of the mind or an evolutionary survival instinct her body did on its own, she had learned to cope with these training sessions.
Oh, the pain was still nearly unbearable. But the blend of pain and terror had maxed out some time ago. As horrible as these sessions were, they weren’t actually a true form of torture, creatively designed to keep the victim guessing while causing as much torment as possible. On the contrary, the pattern had become routine. The same devices were always used in the same places of her body for the exact same duration of time. When it was over, they healed her and that was the end of it.
Viola hardly seemed to notice as they strapped her wrists down. She didn’t flinch when her tunic was lifted, exposing her back. You must let me go, cried a voice inside her head. It will never stop unless you release me! From the corner of her eye she could see a man coming around behind her, the end of his poker a deep red. You cannot hold on to me forever.
She heard the sizzle first, the rush of pain following as the all-too-familiar sensation exploded through her body. But it wasn’t like before. She could practically count the passing seconds, already knowing when the switch would occur. Fists clenched, her teeth mashed together as she fought through it. “Three, two, one,” she counted, embracing the relief when the hot iron peeled away from her skin. Knowing when that relief was coming made all the difference. She had gained a firm understanding of exactly how long she needed to hang on.
Release me! “No!” Viola screamed out. Kuuma glanced down at her, then looked away with a shrug. It wasn’t strange for her to cry out during these sessions. In her half-conscious state of mind, she had often cried out for Xavier whether she knew it or not.
The second wave of pain hit, just below the shoulder blades where it always came from. Teeth grinding together, she could smell the tangy scent of burned flesh wafting around the room. Release me now! “I can’t,” she cried out. “There will be no turning back. I don’t want to be somebody else!”
She squeezed her eyes shut, grimacing against the searing pain. Dark images flashed through her mind. She could see the man she had killed being dragged away, his unblinking eyes glaring with accusation. The vision swirled into a blur, a thousand colors all blending together. A second image flashed into her mind’s eye. She saw Umoro’s face, twisted and misshapen as she mutilated his body without a second thought.
A third blast of pain assaulted her body from just beneath her arms. A combination of tears and sweat dripped from her nose and chin. Eyelids pressed shut, she saw a shadowy figure materialize before her. Those red eyes stood out against her soft white skin, that all-too-familiar smile reminding her once again of her own long-lost innocence. “You’re afraid to be somebody else?” her spitting image asked. “You’re already somebody else. You can’t ever go back to this.” She smoothed her hands down her front. “And where you’re going, I can’t possibly follow. Now make your choice.”
She couldn’t fight it any longer. There was no denying it now. That innocent girl was no longer a part of who she was. Tears flowing, lips trembling, Viola whispered the words she had avoided for so long now. “I...release you.” Her image smiled back at her, the last remaining remnant of who she used to be. Arms spread wide, her image began to twirl in place. A sphere of white light engulfed her, so bright it hurt Viola’s eyes. It flashed, bursting like a soap bubble. Her image was gone, now replaced with nothing but darkness.
When Viola had last closed her eyes, she was broken and hurt but still herself in large part. This time when she opened them, she had become...something else... She could feel her entire body, even the regions that had always seemed strange and alien. She was aware of her own heartbeat, could feel the blood pumping through her veins. It wasn’t just the essence of life she was aware of, it was untapped power that she now controlled. Her body and mind were no longer pushing against each other.
She looked up at Diovok, staring into that red mask. Recognizing the change in her eyes, he raised his hand for the man behind her to stop. When he gestured towards her strapped wrists, two more men kneeled down to unstrap her. The guards e
xchanged confused glances with one another, wondering why they were stopping. The session was not even halfway through. Viola stood, her cold eyes fixed on the exotic shaman. Scratching his head, even Kuuma didn’t really understand what had just happened.
When Diovok waved his hand to contain the collar’s magic, Viola felt a rush of energy. Like a dam breaking, her suppressed abilities came flooding back. With the collar’s suppression temporarily negated, her senses heightened. The last time he had done this, the thirst had hit her like a thunderbolt. But not this time. Umoro’s blood was still fresh in her body, but there still should have been some sort of craving, an awareness of her burning hunger at the very least. But there was no thirst, only complete awareness.
Diovok reached into a deep pocket and retrieved a small syringe. He held it up, shaking it like a person might tease a dog with some sort of toy. The men in the room gasped, stepping away from what seemed like a dangerous game. Viola raised her hand, reaching out as if pleading for the serum she so desperately needed to keep her thirst at bay. The serum needed to keep her sanity.
Everyone jumped as her hand blew outward like a thrown spear. The syringe exploded, tiny shards of glass spraying the air as the flesh blade cracked against the stone wall behind Diovok. Her body had responded like this before, but only to feelings of danger or threat. She had never willed it to do this on purpose. This time she was in total control. Her mind and body were united as one. The cold look in her eyes sent chills down Kuuma’s spine. She had changed somehow.
“She’s ready?” Kuuma asked, eager to leave the room and get away from all this black magic. Diovok slowly bobbed his head. Even with his face hidden behind a mask, his approval radiated like dark energy. They almost felt his grin.
Chapter 12
“And then he says, touch her again and I’ll pull your guts out through your nose!” Roaring laughter ensued as off-duty soldiers slapped their knees, one nearly tumbling out of his seat.
