by Casey Lea
It was hard to answer against the pressure in her chest. “No. I don’t remember a home. Not ever.”
The man lying beside her paused and Silk knew he was willing her to look at him. She glared at the waterline instead and bit her lip.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because we had a home, with a garden and an aviary. We both love our birds. No tweets though, or parakeets. All raptors and we’d fly them in the high meadows. That’s where we went for our honeymoon.”
Silk closed her eyes. This crap again. She rounded on Haze, but he didn’t roll away. “So tell me, lover boy, where did we meet?”
A smile tugged at his lips, which were far too close, but fortunately his gaze grew distant. “On Frontier, when we both went after Jaykin Edge. You took out his guard, impersonated his mistress, hacked his security pass and brought him out unconscious. You dumped him at my feet and I hired you on the spot. I asked whether there was anything you couldn’t do and you said you didn’t cook. I was smitten. You took more convincing, but I enjoyed every second of the chase.”
His eyes focused again and a shiver scurried down her spine. “We were perfect together,” he said and paused. “We’re not any more though. When the Harvesters stole your memories they shredded us. I only understood how much when you let me wash past your perch without helping. And I realized something else when I went under for the third time. This isn’t a game. I know that should be obvious, but I’ve always played at life before and always won. Didn’t matter if I was fighting in court, the streets, or in space. I still got the gold medal.”
Silk wasn’t surprised. Blondie oozed arrogance. “You thought you’d strut into the arena and win?”
“Still do. It’s just… it could cost more than I expected. It never occurred to me I might die in here.”
They shared a solemn look, until Silk dropped her gaze. “As I said, not the brains in your family.”
“Likely not. None of my siblings are out in Dead Space facing mortal danger to save someone who hates them.
“I don’t hate you.” Silk clenched her teeth, but it was too late to swallow the words, so she followed them with a glare. “I’m totally indifferent to you.” The mutt had the cheek to laugh.
“So that’s indifference I’m seeing? Sure.” Haze rolled onto his back, still chuckling, and closed his eyes against the glare. “That sun is harsh.” His eyes flicked open. “And high. Is it midday already?”
“Not for a while, but close. Why? Does the last day of your life fly by?” Silk studied him from under her lashes and sighed. “You’ve decided not to help me. You’ve come to your senses.”
Haze twisted his head to study her. His inspection brought unexpected heat to her cheeks, but this time he didn’t mock her. “It must have been hard for you in here. I can’t stand to think of it.”
His grave expression almost made Silk squirm, so she laughed instead. At him, at slavery, at the killing - at all of it. “Are my wrinkles showing?” A twitch travelled along Haze’s jaw, a tightening so quick she almost missed it, but it said more than words. “You do think I’m wrinkled!”
“No, not at all. I mean you’re frowning, but that’s understandable. Furrows aren’t the same as wrinkles. They’re temporary.”
“You think I’m furrowed?” Silk’s armor flowed over her fists before she could stop it, because the man was insufferable. She’d expected him to try to kill her, but his insults broke every rule of engagement.
“No,” the idiot charged on, “again no. I mean, compared to this morning yes, you look like you’ve got more worries, but it might just be the harsh light.”
“Stop. Right now, or I’ll give you something to furrow about.”
Blondie finally got his mouth under control and stopped talking.
Silk took a deep breath then willed her skin to soften. “I’m not old, just tired.”
“This place would exhaust anyone. That is… I mean, you look gorgeous.” Haze was sweating and Silk hoped he was worried, although it was scalding hot on the cliff top and impossible to tell. He shrugged and his gaze caught hers. “You’re beautiful and I’m sorry for implying otherwise. It’s hard to think clearly round you, but there’s something I know is true. I don’t care what happens to me in here and I don’t care what they do.” He rolled to face her fully and this time his thigh touched hers, but Silk didn’t move. “I won’t ever let you down. I’ll stay, even if winning’s impossible. We’re together and that makes me a lucky man.”
Silk flushed, before finally squirming for the lip of the cliff. The guy was crazed and embarrassing as hell. “Yeah, well, don’t get all romantic. I don’t repeat mistakes, so we won’t be renewing any vows. I also don’t come second. I’m pleased you’re ready to die, lawyer, because I intend to win. I’ll reach the middle first and then I’ll claim the Death Blade. First.” Something caught in her throat and her voice fell to a whisper. “It’s all I’ve got.”
Silk stiffened and closed her lips tight. Haze didn’t answer, but she knew he had that sad-puppy face again. She could feel it.
Drak him to hell and gone. She slid over the edge without looking back.
10
THE ONLY RULE
Silk vanished without a farewell and Haze took off too. He jetted straight into the sky, but did look back. He watched her skid down the cliff, her rigid hands and heels leaving tracks in the rock face, before she dropped to the ground with a splash. Black stripes angled through the water toward her, but her shins were armor-dark and she kicked the eels off without injury. Haze relaxed and wheeled higher into the sky. Not too high though. He’d learned that lesson.
The thermals returned as the last of the water sank into the sand and Haze let the warm updrafts waft him across the arena. His eyes narrowed and the ground came into sharp focus. The sand below showed streaks of darker gold, where the eels were burrowing into its damp body. He’d have to watch his step when he landed. He had other business first though, before he looked for Sweeper and before he returned to Silk. It seemed the middle of the maze held the key to the day’s killing and he needed to find it first.
The winding paths grew narrower and the cliffs higher as Haze flew toward the heart of the labyrinth. There were more dead-ends below and he studied them closely, memorising the path Silk needed to take. It was convoluted and the route was increasingly lined by caves. A cry echoed from one of those dark mouths and Haze shuddered when that screech spiralled past. He longed to carry his wife to safety, but Dragons were far too heavy for flight. She’d have to go by foot and face the monsters, but at least he’d be with her.
Haze cleared the highest of the jigsaw walls and lifted his eyes to the tower at the heart of the maze. It stood alone in the middle of a moat and its sharp-edged reflection stretched to meet him. His eyes widened, then re-focused and he saw that its foundations sat in a rocky basin, which was why the water had pooled at its base. A path climbed the nearest face, a switchback of steps and ledges that was tight but navigable. All Silk had to do was get there.
His wings swept down in a mighty push and Haze rose to the level of the hexagonal platform at the top of the tower. He let his legs drop, swinging them forward to land soft as a feline and ran two steps before stopping. The wind sighed past a carved column in the middle of the plateau and a deeper sigh rose from the hidden audience. Curse them all.
The wind rose to tug his hair and moan through a central hole in the pillar ahead. Haze looked more closely and saw something lying in that niche. No, it was embedded there, with an only an edge showing. A sharp edge. Was that a knife?
“Take the blade, boy.”
Haze twisted and jumped sideways. “Drakking hail. Where did you come from?” He steadied himself and glared at an elderly mermaridian hunched in front of him.
The old man offered a narrow smile that showed the points of his teeth and smoothed his purple robes. “You’re on the big screen,” he said and gestured at the force field overhead. It was no longer transparent, instead showing a stretched Haze s
tanding by a distorted pillar. “Every gladiator can see you. They know death is on them. Claim the knife.”
Haze had never been so angry in his life, which was strange because there was no touch of fire in his eyes. He felt like ice. “If I pull this out everyone in the arena dies?”
“Except you and me.”
“Of course. Who the hail are you?”
“My name is Umpyre and if two fighters grasp the blade together I decide who-”
The old man’s reedy voice broke off when Haze jetted into him and carried him over the cliff. He was so light Haze felt he could drop him and watch him float to the distant sea, but a whimper from his passenger made him tighten his grip. The wind picked up and it was suddenly hard to stay aloft, especially since he wasn’t designed to carry extra weight, even such a scrawny old man. Haze changed his path and glided down to the nearest wall. He landed on its crest with a thud this time and dropped his passenger beside him.
The old man landed on all fours and made no effort to stand. He was shaking as he crawled away from the edge. He clearly didn’t do much flying and dragged himself all the way to the middle of the plateau before clambering to his feet. He seemed briefly bewildered, but then stood straighter and glared up at Haze. “Where are your thoughts? I am Umpyre. I guard arena law.”
Haze felt his lip curl. “Truly? This bloodbath has rules?”
“Of course not, but if two fighters reach the blade together I choose who draws it. Or if none reach it, I decide who lives. Return me now.”
“Nope,” said Haze and stepped backward off the edge. His wings spread and he blasted away. “There’s a new rule,” he called over his shoulder. “Silk wins. If you don’t wish to fall remember that, old man. This is all about Silk.”
A downdraft punched into Haze and he tucked his wings tighter to battle through it. It twisted, trying to spin him, and it took all of his skill to stay on track.
Umpyre’s disembodied voice joined the tornado, his words spinning past Haze. They roared with the wind to slam through his head and made the shield above shimmer. “Furl your wings. If you fly again, Silk dies. Land now, or we’ll kill her.”
Haze twisted in mid-air, even as he tucked his wings close. He dropped steadily to meet the sand, but banked enough to spot a lone figure on a distant ridge. Silk stared back and when he focused on the pale disc of her face her expression was as hard as if her skin had been armored. That was bad. Haze swallowed, but then he was furling his wings completely to land hard and lost sight of his wife. His very angry wife.
11
MIDDAY
Haze trotted on through mirages and his body trembled with the effort of keeping his pace steady. He wanted to charge through the maze, sprint after Silk until he dropped, but that wouldn’t help. He had to last the day and he had to find some sign he was on his wife’s trail, before he could move faster.
The maze split again, offering three paths and he stopped to think, looking up to the skyline above. It was certainly familiar. Yes, he was sure of it. The left path looked straight, but would wind back to the beginning. The middle path led to a dead end and the right branch, which seemed to bend back was the correct one. He turned into the curving gully and ahead of him a slim shape darted away.
Haze sprinted after her. She followed the sweep of the cliffs, sprinting hard with dark hair streaming behind her and only his longer stride kept her in sight. Why the hell was she avoiding him? Running away wasn’t her style. “Silk!”
The female paused, skidding to a halt, although she didn’t look back. However, her mind was close enough to read and it screamed a single emotion. Fear. Haze stopped too and sagged against the nearest wall. Silk wasn’t terrified of anything. He’d been so sure it was her, but it seemed he was a hopeful fool. His chin dropped toward his chest and he ignored the soft footfalls approaching. A hand brushed his forearm and he finally looked up.
A thin girl stared back and tried to smile, stretching her mouth wide and tight. “You’re not Sweeper,” she said in a shaking voice and Haze nodded.
“Definitely not.”
“Smaller,” she said, with a catch in her throat.
“Much. And friendlier. I won’t hurt you.”
“Good.” Her head bobbed convulsively. “Sweeper did. He caught me once and he… he hurts. Because he can’t do other things. I bet it wouldn’t be like that with you though.” She looked up through lavender lashes and her lips rearranged themselves in the parody of an inviting smile.
“It’s not going to be like anything with me. What’s your name?”
“Does it matter?”
“It should,” he said and felt something from the girl that wasn’t terror. His fronds twitched and rose higher to scent the emotion. Was that deceit? He stiffened and she trembled again, while her smile twisted further. “I don’t think it’s my body you’re after,” he accused. “More likely my corpse.”
“But I want you,” she whispered. “Right now.”
“In the middle of battle? Doubtful.”
“On the last day of my life? Definitely.” She looked up at him with another flutter of lashes. “I heard what you offered Silk. You could protect me too.”
“Silk’s my wife.”
“I don’t mind. I can share. Please.” She took Haze’s hand and tugged gently with fingers as chill and ephemeral as a ghost’s. “Please.”
He found himself being led to the nearest alley while he debated the chances of his squad arriving in time to save this sad girl as well as Silk. He queried his flecks again, but there was still no response from the legal team. That would have been frightening, if he hadn’t been too busy to be scared. The passage between cliffs narrowed and rocky overhangs above almost met, to block the light. No-Name-Girl’s hand drifted from his and she accelerated. Haze tried to follow her retreating form, but she floated away to be claimed by the dim alley.
A rock hurtled from the darkness instead, flying straight at his face. Haze twisted fast and hard, so that it just brushed his cheek and his eyes burned like lightning. Suddenly all was silver chaos, with brightness blazing through his head while dark figures swarmed from the canyon. They charged with shrill cries and he ran to meet them. Shrieks howled around him, but he fell on his attackers like a wolf. Heat and light and hard collisions rocked his body. His teeth found a throat and he tasted blood as sharp and bright as the rest of the world. His enemies faltered then tried to retreat, but he chased them. He could smell sweat mixed with the tang of fear and he hunted those scents down.
Haze tried to send orders to himself, but his voice bounced around an empty skull. Wait, stop. Silk could be there. His body ignored him. Thought wasn’t even a distraction any more. A delicate face crumpled under his fist and he hated himself, but panic only made his blind fury worse. He made the greatest effort of his life trying to stop. Just stop. He couldn’t risk hurting Silk.
His father’s voice suddenly sounded in his head. The memory was deep and resonant, as he gave Haze orders. Stop. Control yourself so others won’t have to. Don’t give them an excuse. Haze dropped to a crouch. He tasted acid and spat, pushing aside horror at what he’d done, because this wasn’t about him and never would be. It was all about his lady. He opened his cooling eyes.
Corpses were strewn along the canyon behind him and the creamy cliffs wept blood. Swathes of red ran down to splatter on the still forms beneath. The last lay at his feet, her eyes wide between purple lashes. Haze sank to his knees beside her. No-Name-Girl gazed blankly back, too dead to remind him that he’d said he wouldn’t hurt her. He reminded himself though and curled forward, hunched over pain. Drak, what a mess. What a bloody mess.
Haze crouched there for a long time. A very long time, until the sun’s warm fingers stroked their way across his back. His shadow pooled at his feet. Midday.
A murmur grew along with the sunlight and slowly intruded on Haze’s grief. The crowd was restless and for once he agreed with them. He had no time for regret. Zak was right, but then his
big brother usually was. Whining didn’t fix anything. Haze dragged himself back to the present and his fronds flinched. Minds called out around the arena, but the cries of the crowd were louder. “Shame.”
“Get moving.”
“They’re just girls. Novelties. Get over it.”
“What about Silk?”
Haze’s head jerked up at the last cry and silence returned. He could sense breathless anticipation, but ignored it to stare at the sky. The sun was fierce and white, and high overhead. The day was racing away, just like his wife.
12
THE PACK
Silk hefted the length of chainmail in her hand. Gutrock didn’t need it anymore and with luck Blondie would find her again and she could take care of him. She’d have to be quick, because the liar could now get her killed with a single flap of his wings. He’d sadly underestimated her though, because she’d make sure he never left the ground again. She swung the chain and it felt good in her hands.
The only shade had shrunk to hug the cliff and Silk retreated with it to lean on the last strip of cool rock. She idly kicked a heel back against the chalky face and sighed. Blondie had better hurry. She had places to be and people to kill. She stifled a yawn and realized she was sagging. She straightened so fast it made her back crack and she winced. She yawned again, before sagging against the rock face once more. What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t feel this tired already.
Silk stiffened and rested her palms on the cliff behind to steady herself against shock. Was there something wrong? Fear washed through her. The only thing she could rely on in the arena was herself. Yet suddenly she had aches in places she’d never even known she had. Her knuckles cracked when she spread her fingers further, as if to make a point. No. Silk gritted her teeth and ignored the pain that darted through her jaw. She was fine. She had to be and by the end of the day she’d be even better.
