Call to Arms (The Girl In The Arena Book 1)

by Lara Lee Hunter

  Bitterness fluttered her heart. Oh great, she was finally getting to meet somebody that liked her: a boy — a man — who wanted to be with her and take up time with her. Not just any man either, a handsome and sophisticated soldier and she was about to be murdered in the arena. Wasn’t that just perfect?

  Reena said, “well, look at this way. If you did start courting me you would have to worry about it being a lifetime commitment.”

  “I’m hoping that it will be.”

  Reena’s bread crumbled to bits in her fingers and she scattered crumbs all across the tablecloth. “Praxis, are you a fool or have you just suffered one too many blows to the head? I’m a gladiator, did you not see the size of that thing I had to fight yesterday? It was huge! I don’t even think it was human!”

  Praxis actually laughed at that, “A whole lot of people don’t think he’s human. Or that he wasn’t rather. Do you know what he definitely was though?”

  “No, what?”

  “A crowd pleaser. He knew how to make the crowd respond to him and to love him. If he had chosen to rise up against the Governor, the crowd would have followed him Reena. He would’ve been the people’s champion.”

  Reena knew that this was getting more to the point of the reason she been brought here to his Temple. She could sense something in the air; having grown up in the camps she knew what alliances were and the way that people would work with each other to make something happen. Hector, Nemia, and Praxis were all working together, but to what end?

  “You don’t have to tell me that you like me Praxis to get me to listen to you. Either way, I’m going to die, so asking me to commit some kind of act of treason is not really going to freak me out.”

  “You could survive every match.”

  “And even if I did I don’t think that the Governor would let me go. You don’t think so either. Say that you believe that he will.”

  Praxis didn’t answer, he didn’t have to. Both of them knew that the Governor’s promise was false. Reena toyed with a piece of meat, shredding it into bits, her appetite entirely gone. “Do you think he will honor his promise to my father?”

  “No,” Praxis said gently. “I believe he’s honoring his promise to all the ones whose coming before because he has no choice. But the day you and your father stand together in the arena, I do believe he will have a little surprise for you but I’m not sure what it is.”

  “That’s the same thing I think. But I think it’s going to be spears from the soldiers.”

  “I would never lift a weapon against you Reena, you have to know that.”

  “You brought me here to the city, how can you expect me to believe you?”

  “Granted, I did. But at the time I did not know you and I thought you were just another Outlaw.”

  “Are you happy being a soldier Praxis? Do you believe in what you do? Has it ever occurred to you that the only thing that the Governor wants is to push the boundaries and own everything and everyone around him?”

  “I know that. The answer to your first question is yes, or it was yes. Before this Governor I was happy being a soldier.”

  “He’s an evil man.”

  “I think most of the people of the city would agree with you on that one.”

  “What about you, would you agree with me?”

  “If I didn’t I would never have sent you the amulet.”

  “Why would you agree to be a soldier?” Reena wanted to know, she didn’t know why she wanted to know but she did.

  “Yes. My father is a soldier and my father’s father was a soldier. I grew up in the city with the expectation that I would become a soldier and that was all I ever wanted.”

  “Maybe you just wanted it because you didn’t know anything else.”

  Praxis smiled at her, his full lips split apart to reveal his even white teeth, and Reena wondered what his lips would be like on hers. He must be a good kisser. Had he kissed a lot of other girls before? She was willing to bet that he had; he was just too cute to not have girls like him.

  “I suppose you could be right. So tell me, what is it like to grow up in the woods?”

  “It’s beautiful. It’s also scary, especially on nights when they are Culling. You have to be very careful; you can’t have fire, and you can’t sleep very often either. Even the safest places aren’t safe then.”

  “It seems like the Outlaws move around a lot.”

  “Are you trying to get information from me?”

  “Yes, but not about the Outlaws. Have you ever seen the great desert?”

  “I’ve seen the boundary of it. It’s at least five days walk from the section of woods that I know best.”

  Praxis leaned forward, his elbows on the table and his food forgotten. “What is it like, the desert I mean. Is it really as big as they say? Is it really dry and barren? Is it really completely made of sand like what is in the arena floor?”

  “I don’t know how big it is. I don’t think anyone knows; you would have to go into it to really see it and they say once you go in, you never come out. I do know that they send soldiers there to get sand to bring back here. But they usually go through the old Post Road instead of the woods because it is faster.”

  “Yes, it is faster but it only takes you to one edge of it and even that edge pleats off into the woods. Most soldiers are afraid of that section of woods, not only because of the risk of being murdered by Outlaws but because of the stories of the mythological beast that lives within those woods.”

  Reena almost asked him what beasts he was referring to but she shut her mouth over that just in time. That might be something that she could use later, something that would help her to stay safe if she ever got out of this city and back into her woods.

  Slyly she said, “There are beasts about.”

  There was a knock on the door and they both stiffened. Praxis put his hand to his sword and Reena reached for the first weapon she could find, a heavy wind cup. Praxis lifted an eyebrow at her when he saw her choice and she shrugged, “beggars can’t be choosers.”

  Praxis went to the door and leaned against it, there was a small hole in the door's center had been made for peering out and he used it before saying. “It’s Nemia. Our time is up.”

  As soon as he said that, Reena was sorry that she had to go. She wanted him to hug her again, to take her in his arms and press her against his warm body and maybe… maybe even kiss her.

  Before he opened the door, he reached into a fold of his robe and pulled out a small packet. “You will need this at your next battle. I think you know what it is and how to use it. Hide it well. Also, take the sword.”

  She stared at them, confused “What sword?”

  “You’ll know when you see it.”

  He reached for the door and Reena’s heart sank. He was about to show her out. He paused though, and his hand moved from the door to her shoulder. He drew her in, holding her close and she snuggled against his chest, her own heart beating in a rapid rhythm that matched his.

  “I want to kiss you.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” Reena barely got the words out of her mouth before he was lifting her face up to his. Their mouths met; his lips were firm yet soft and his tongue parted hers, snaking inside her mouth and licking her teeth and her tongue.

  The kiss was fleeting and over far too soon. Praxis stepped back from her with his chest heaving and he said, “You must go now.”

  He opened the door and ushered her outside.

  **

  The packet was werebane. Reena carefully hid it where she knew that nobody would search for it. She used several strands of her own hair to braid a slender rope. Once she had that, she put the packet of werebane on the outside of one of the bars that covered her window. It would not be seen from so far below and it could not be seen from inside the room.

  She had never had her cell searched before, but she had a feeling that things were about to change. She figured hiding the werebane was probably just a precaution but if there wa
s anything that being an Outlaw had taught her, it was to listen to her gut. And her gut said after her visit to the Temple she was going to come under a lot of scrutiny.

  That night her food was brought to her by someone she had never seen before: a tall and slender man with light brown hair and gentle blue eyes. Unlike River he did not appear to be hungry or dirty. His robe was of a good quality cloth and his sandals had slender silk ties.

  “Who are you?”

  His lips curled into a smile, “I’m Clive. I am to bring you your food from here on out. It seems you were exposed to a near-death situation.”

  Reena’s face paled. How did he know this? Why was he saying it out loud? Clive balanced the tray in one hand and added, “We can’t have servants with the bad cough bringing you food.” Then he winked at her, a slow and careful wink that made her senses light up.

  In as neutral a voice as possible she said, “No, we can’t.”

  Clive held up one finger as she reached for the food and then, so fast she barely saw it, he lifted a few morsel of each offering to his mouth before nodding at her.

  Reena took the food slowly and carefully. Clive did not die and eventually he said, “I must have the dishes back. They have been set aside for your use, and yours alone.”

  Reena stacked her food on her pallet and handed him the dishes back through the bars. He gave her a little nod and strode away, whistling cheerfully. Reena sat on her pallet, staring down at the food and wanting to weep again.

  Poor River. What had they done with his body? Simply tossed it and his meager belongings onto the rubbish piles and burned it all? She would not have doubted it.

  Life was cheap here in Aretula.

  Chapter 6

  Reena’s days off flew by and yet dragged all at once. She was taken out to the training fields by hector, who taught her a few new tricks and nearly put her eye out with one of them. She was allowed to use the communal shower, it having been cleared for her use, and she was taken out once a day and paraded up and down the streets in the company of the guards.

  Hector had told her that she had to win favor among the people and Reena had asked, “Why is nobody allowed to give me anything?”

  “There is no restriction on the gifts you may receive in the Arena, only against you having a Protector.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “The difference is that in the arena anyone may give you anything and you may keep or discard what you wish. I told you before, many a gladiator bought their way to freedom with those rewards. A Protector is one person. The arena is many. Don’t forget that. One person may make a large difference but an arena filled with people can make all the difference.”

  “You aren’t talking about just battles in the arena are you?” Reena was shrewd and so was he. He knocked her into the dust and dirt and then he helped her to her feet only to hiss into her ear, “Never say those things out loud or we are all dead.”

  In her cell she stared out at the streets, watching the people and wondering who they were, where they were going, and why they were on the street to begin with. The Temples all blazed with light and the taverns did too.

  Nemia would have been sent to one of those taverns if she had not chosen the arena. What was so bad about them that she would have chosen death? She asked Hector the next day and he roared laughter but did not answer her except to say that was a child’s question.

  Later that evening, after her parade down the streets and her dinner, after the sun had set and she had grown bored with watching the people, she sat on her pallet, her legs tucked below her and began to recite, under her breath, her alphabet and numbers.

  It was an old game. When she had been young and the Culling was taking place, the woods had been a terrifying place. Not only because of the risks of running into the soldiers but because the fire that they used to keep wild animals—predatory and nocturnal—at bay was an even bigger risk than it was a safety precaution.

  The dark had always frightened her when she was young and her father would tell her stories, and teach her numbers and the alphabet. Reena began to trace out letters on the floor with her fingers, invisible to the eye but clear to her. She wrote her name and her father’s and then she did a lot of sums in her head.

  It helped to ease her growing boredom and helped her to feel reconnected with her father although he was nowhere near her.

  Praxis had said they were moving him around a lot because they were afraid. But afraid of what? It seemed silly to be afraid of one Outlaw.

  **

  The next day was her last day before the arena. Hector showed up at her door and asked her if she had ever visited a library.

  “No but I have heard of them. I heard…my father told me that if someone knew how to read they could use books to learn things, to escape from the world they are in for a little while. He also said the books used to be kept in libraries.”

  His head tilted to one side. “Have you ever seen a book?”

  Reena’s face burned but she kept her eyes level. “No but my father has. He told me about them.”

  “I see. Well, you have a free day. Today you may go anywhere you like. You have gone to Temple as mandated by the Law, you have done your duty as a gladiator—you have hyped the crowd and thus helped to ensure that the games are what people are thinking of, and not the starvation and other ills in the city—and you have had training.

  “Come on, today we go to the library.”

  “Why are we going to the library?” Reena was stupefied by his harsh words. Hector was usually far more careful; he was talking like a man possessed and angry. Why? What was happening?

  He took her out and into the streets. As usual she wore her gladiator garb, as she had nothing else. People stopped and stared; many pointed and a few even touched her for good luck.

  Hector took her down a thankfully quiet series of side streets after they left the main thoroughfare and they walked briskly until they came to a tall and imposing structure. Hector said, “This is as far as I go. I will return to fetch you.”

  Reena gave him a surprised look, “Why aren’t you coming in?”

  “Because I cannot read and one must be able to read to enter.”

  “How do you know that I can read?”

  “I don’t but I am hoping that you can.”

  “Maybe I cannot.”

  “You better learn to fake it then; they are opening the doors.” Hector practically vanished and Reena looked at the old wizened man who opened the door and blurted out, “I can read.”

  “I would have expected nothing less from Liam’s child.”

  Her face paled. “How do you know whose daughter I am?”

  A ghost of a smile touched his chapped lips, “The entire city knows child. It is all the citizens can talk about.”

  His hands grasped her shoulder and he practically yanked her through the doors before clanging them back shut again. He ushered her through a series of long rooms, all of them filled floor-to-ceiling with books. Reena stared around her, all of her thoughts caught up in a maelstrom that she could not control long enough to ask any questions.

  When she finally did regain her wits slightly it was to ask, “Was my father here?”

  “Long ago. Before the Culling that threatened to take the woman he loved. I’m Argo, by the way. What would you like to study today child?”

  “I don’t know.” There were people, mainly male, scattered around the long tables, all of them bent to their books with a seriousness that made her almost nervous.

  “Maybe you would like to see Liam’s favorite of the books.”

  Reena blinked back the tears that threatened. “Yes, yes I would like that very much please.”

  Argo beckoned her with a crooked finger, “Right this way please.”

  **

  The tome that he took out was old, thick with duct and so fragile that some of the corners crumbled away as she tried to turn the page. She looked up at Argo, who gave her a sad smile. He had se
ated her far from the others, using the excuse that she was a gladiator and this was a place of peace—but she knew there was more to it than just that. It had something to do with the book in her hands.

  “One day it will fall apart just like the rest of them. The paper is too weak and thin but as long as there are those willing to pass along the stories and rewrite them so that others will know them, our gods will live.”

  He drifted away and she opened the book again, staring down at the yellowed pages and the crumbled dust stuck in the creases. The ink was faded to the point that it was barely legible and the text had been underlined in places.

  The cover had been stamped with some kind of gold—the words had heavy curlicues there, making it hard for her to read, but she had finally made out the words: Greek mythology.

  The inside of the book was filled with tales of the gods. She knew most of them by heart since her father had told her those stories just like every parent told their children the tales of their gods. There were many not listed within the pages but that was not unusual. Nobody seemed to know where Isis had sprung from after all.

  Why would this have been her father’s favorite book? She closed it and stared down at the cover, her eyes going back to the spine, the broken and creased corners of it and her head tilted to one side. There was something within the spine!

  Her heart beat loudly as she looked around to check to see if anyone was paying any attention to her; they weren’t. Reena opened the book again, pretending to be perusing the pages while her nimble fingers plucked the folded paper from the spine.

  She had seen her father’s handwriting before, when he taught her how to shape her letters in the sand and dirt, so she recognized it and a lump filled her throat.

  The message was simple and to the point—hastily written. Don’t let them trick you into seeing me as a grove of apples.

  A grove of apples? What was he talking about?

  Her mind cleared and she saw it all again just like she was standing there:

  They were in the woods, below an apple tree. It had been a long and hard winter, they had come across some bodies—frozen and withered away by hunger—near the cave that they had taken up residence in that season.