by Casey Lea
Even when she sighed and pulled away, he stayed close.
“Please,” Haze said, trying not to sound like he was begging. “Claim the blade.”
“No. We take it at the same time. Umpyre,” Silk called and the old man came closer, wafting through the dusk. “Do you believe in happy endings? You could be the hero of the match. The person who gives the crowd what they want. Right?” She threw her head back, calling to the sky and it answered. Seats appeared above them, packed with spectators who roared their approval. Sound rumbled through their feet as well, making Haze lean over the edge to look down.
The shallow sea below had become translucent and he was staring at more of the audience. They stood under the maze, packed like green sardines for miles in either direction. He blinked and Silk leaned over beside him.
“The cheap seats,” she said. “It seems they agree too. Judge us both winners, or risk a riot.”
“No.” The word fell from Umpyre’s lips, flat and final. The mind behind it was adamant and the crowd went quiet. “The arena rules are mine to make and only one can live. However, in response to your popularity I will offer you a gift. Silk shall decide which one draws the blade. Choose, girl.”
Haze looked back to the knife and it glinted red, while its shadow now spread all the way to the edge of the plateau. The day was almost gone and so was his hope. Self-delusion had kept him going, but it was time to be honest. His squad was as absent as laughter at a deathbed. Something was wrong and this wasn’t a rescue at all. He couldn’t bear to look at Silk.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I thought we were getting out of here, but it’s too late. You need to win. Pull the knife. Only one of us gets to live.”
Haze expected Silk to protest, but she didn’t even hesitate. “You’re right. Only one of us leaves here.”
That was a surprise and an even greater relief. “So do it.”
“No,” Silk rasped. “It has to be you.”
Haze lifted his head to glare at his wife. She was mad if she thought he’d let her die. He was here to save her. That was the mission and he was drakked if he’d fail. “There’s no time for this.”
“Agreed,” Silk whispered and went down on one knee. Haze was at her side in an instant and had to take her weight when she sagged into him.
“Silk, are you hurt? Are you faint? What’s wrong?” She gasped, but didn’t answer and he hoisted her into his arms, then turned on Umpyre. “What’ve you done? Why is this happening again? Fix it. Now.” He swung his arms forward, holding his wife out as if for a miracle, but she hissed in pain and he pulled her close again. “Fix it.” Shadow swallowed the plateau and Haze had to blink to focus on the Harvester. “Please.”
The old man swept closer, but stopped well beyond reach. “I can’t, I’m afraid. Her time is up and her cells have reached their use-by date. They were programmed to shut down now. They’re aging and she’s dying.”
Haze shook his head and hugged Silk closer. He didn’t understand. Soft fingers traced the line of his jaw and he looked down. His wife smiled, but her eyes were lost in a maze of wrinkles, while brown splotches spread to cover her face. In less than a minute age settled over her like a shroud.
“I must be a clone,” she said and the truth of it was like an axe in his chest. “I’ve felt it all day, but I didn’t understand. Nothing fit, but this… this makes sense of it all. It’s why I don’t remember you. We’ve never met before. I don’t understand it though. If we’ve never met, why do you feel so familiar? That still doesn’t make sense.”
“Some things don’t make sense. Especially love and that’s what this is. I know it.”
“No. This is a trick. I’m not a real girl, Haze. They made me and put me in here to play with.”
Haze stumbled, lost and disoriented, until the ground slammed into his knees. Did he just fall? Did it even matter? The only mystery he cared about was who was in his arms. He knew he loved her. Their bond was so deep it made him dizzy. How could she be a clone – a decoy drawing him away from true love? He shook his head so hard the tower seemed to spin under them.
Dry fingers gripped his wrist with only an echo of their old strength, but Silk’s touch calmed him. “This is a lie,” she said softly. “I’m a lie, so you’ve got to live. You’ve got to get out of here, then find me. The original me and set me free from whatever hell the Harvesters have thrown me in. Promise.”
Haze squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think. She was right. The clone was right. He still had a mission and he still had to find Silk, so why did it feel like his chest was tearing in two? He needed to accept that she was nothing more than a diversion and he had to go. But he couldn’t just quit on her, could he? The pressure in his head was migraine sharp. Was this what losing felt like?
Haze shook his head. “No. This is wrong. All wrong. I can’t leave you and I won’t walk away. I’m staying.”
He tried to gather his mind, but it was strangely erratic. Was he still on his knees? No. Somehow he was sitting on rock hard enough to make his tailbone ache, hunched over Silk who lay in his lap. The back of his hand itched and he scratched it irritably. His fingers rasped over skin as dry and creased as the last leaves of fall. He looked across very slowly, to see age spots spreading up his arm like fungi.
He heard Silk gasp, but couldn’t look away. How was it possible? “I can’t be a clone. I remember everything. My life. I have a life.”
Haze looked up and searched for Umpyre in the fading light. Why couldn’t he focus on the man? He found a shadow and beckoned it closer, but something in his hand cracked. “I’m me,” he said, although his voice sounded distant and thin.
The dark shape glided to stand over them and leaned forward until Haze could focus on Umpyre’s hollow features. “Yes and no,” the old slaver said. “You remember a true life, despite being a clone. The memory matrix is most detailed isn’t it? Your original was very co-operative, because we held Silk. He let us map his neural network.”
Something in Haze’s face must have scared the slaver, because he broke off and scuttled away. Umpyre’s hunched form was shaking as he spat words past his trembling lips. “Never-care. Your lives are done. Together, as you always wish. Do you have any last words?”
“Not for you,” Haze snapped and turned back to Silk. “It’s alright,” he murmured and realized it was. The grey curtain of her hair was unravelling, strands falling around them, but he ran his fingers through it anyway. It still felt like silk to him. "I knew I loved you," he whispered.
"Eh? Speak up."
Haze smiled and Silk managed a breathy chuckle. He continued her joke by speaking ludicrously loud. "I. Love. You."
Her face softened to sag further. "Love you too. Don’t know why." She coughed, the spasm shaking her frail form, and when she looked up her eyes were red. “Sorry. Trying to fight, but… sorry.”
“No. Don’t be. It’s okay.”
“This your idea… of okay?”
Haze choked on a laugh and rested his forehead against hers. “Yes,” he whispered. “Didn’t used to be, but it is now. It seems losing doesn’t have to feel like failure.” Silk snuggled into him and he held her as close as he dared. Not too tight, not too tight.
The crowd arching overhead was now completely silent. Haze’s view of them was fuzzy, with the faces grown indistinct. “Enjoy watching,” he rasped. “It’s all you’ve got.”
Silk stirred in his arms and he gazed at her again trying not to sniffle. “I’ll always love you,” he promised, pulling her close and she smiled against his damp cheek.
“Seems,” Silk whispered, “I’ll always love you too.” Her words felt cool on his wet skin. “Do you think we’re together?”
“I’m here.” Haze kissed her temple. “We’re together.”
“No. Meant the real us. D’you think they’re together?”
Haze had no idea, but answered without hesitation. “Of course. I don’t know where they are or what their lives are like, but I g
uarantee they’re together. Just like us.” He felt her breath against his face, but there were no more words. There was only a sigh that caught, then stopped. Silk was gone.
Time passed while the day seemed caught on the edge of darkness, with everything bathed in either red or black. The arena was silent. It might have been as empty as Haze. It was strange. He’d come to save her and he was still so sure he could - if he tried a little harder or thought a little faster. He just needed to defy time… somehow.
Accepting he couldn’t was hard, especially with grief tearing at him, but she was gone. His mission was done and in the end, he could deal with that. It was over, but parts of it had been good. The parts with Silk.
The sun continued its slow fall and a shadow rose from the path. Choke limped onto the plateau. He stopped when he saw Silk, but his expression was hidden in the dusk. “Did you kill her?” he asked and Haze jerked in shock.
“No. No, not me.”
Choke grunted. “Good.”
The giant lumbered forward, dragging a leg and favouring an arm. He tried to settle beside Haze, but his injured leg forced him to drop straight to the ground. He landed with a thud and looked like he planned to stay, which was almost enough to rouse Haze’s interest.
“What are you doing?” Haze asked. “Someone has to win.”
Choke offered a grunt and a shrug. “Done my fight. She’d want you to live.”
Haze looked down at Silk, who was growing strangely heavy, but didn’t answer. He lowered himself further to lie beside her and closed his eyes. “Congratulations, big-guy. All yours.”
The swish of cloth through grit made Haze try to focus one last time. A blurred figure in a robe stood beside them. Umpyre. Light bathed his face, turning it to a cliff at sunrise. Haze blinked at those craggy features. Was it a new day already? No, of course not. Must be artificial light. It flickered and shifted across the creases of Umpyre’s face. Ah, a hologram. The puppet-master was taking a call.
“Sloppy,” a female voice said and Haze’s jaw tightened further. He knew that person, although he couldn’t remember her name. “Silk and Haze won’t fight each other once they know they’re dying.”
The old man sniffed. “They never fight each other anyway, Luck Shansia.”
“Perhaps, but they remain popular. Next time be sure their telomeres are long enough to survive an extra week and let’s draw the drama out through the year. Program them to live for a full season.” The light faded and a dull red washed back to replace it. Haze’s gaze settled on Choke, who looked like he was slicked with blood.
“Are you a clone too?” Haze wondered and his head swam. “Is their promise of freedom for the winner just another lie?”
Choke frowned and glared up at Umpyre. “Would I know if I was a clone?”
The Harvester stayed silent, so Haze answered instead. “Clones don’t live long. Telomeres on their chromosomes are too short. They come from adult cells and only have a few divisions left, but the Harvesters make it even worse because they only need us for a season. If you were a clone you’d feel exhausted and sore.”
Choke turned to Haze in the fading light and smiled, before looking down at his torn and battered body. “As opposed to this?”
“Don’t fear, Choke,” Umpyre growled. “It’s illegal to make natural-born folk fight, so all our gladiators are clones. Except those like you, who are volunteers.”
The shadow beside Haze breathed out a deep sigh.
Haze smiled and his face crinkled oddly, like old tissue. “You volunteered?” he whispered and Choke grunted in confirmation, but Haze lifted his head as far as he could, searching for Umpyre. “Wait. I’m a volunteer too. Why am I a clone?”
“You’re not real, and so not a real volunteer. That’s just a story planted to entice you back to the arena. It adds to the sport. We usually release you near the spaceport, because you know where Silk is and you always return.”
Haze felt ill. “Always? How many times have I done this?”
Umpyre shuffled forward, until Haze could see his teeth when he smiled. “You’re the Anniversary special. The tenth Haze we’ve had, but don’t fear. We took ample tissue samples from your donor as well as Silk’s. You’ll both be back for many years. Along with the memory-map we traced while you were trying to negotiate her release. You should be proud. You’re very popular and the crowd loves your obsession with your wife.”
Haze looked down at the still form beside him. “It isn’t obsession.”
A groan rose from Choke, making the rock under Haze shudder. He fell back to the ground and could only stare while the other gladiator clawed his way up onto his knees. Choke was shaking, but began to crawl, despite dragging a leg and leaving a dark trail behind him. Umpyre backed away.
“All clones?” Choke demanded. “Was Sweeper a clone?”
“Well, I, ah, would need to check the records to be-”
“Was he? Did I kill the wrong man?”
Umpyre had reached the far edge to become a silhouette. He straightened his shoulders. “Yes,” he spat at the shadow chasing him. “Of course you did. We wouldn’t let a fighter as dangerous as Sweeper gain experience from season to season. He was always new-made.”
Choke stopped moving to hunch in place, swaying. “My daughter was killed out in space. Far from here. By the real Sweeper.” He threw his head back as if he wanted to howl at the moon, but instead glared at the stars appearing above. “How do I find him?”
Umpyre hummed softly. “Claim the Death Blade and your freedom, Choke. You can continue your quest from here.”
The big man twisted to look back at Haze, who wanted to tell him it was alright, but couldn’t. His jaw was clamped shut, as if rigor already gripped it. He had just enough strength left to nod then place his fingers over Silk’s. Sadness disappeared.
He heard one last command. “Draw the knife, Choke. You win.”
Then the sun dipped below the horizon and everything went black.
26
A New Day
Haze felt dizzy and staggered. He threw out an arm to lean against the cliff face beside him and gulped in desert air that seared his lungs. Why did he feel so weak? More importantly, where was he and how did he get here? His nails scraped across rock when his hand made a fist, as if trying to catch lost memories. He gripped only dust and the blinding desert valley ahead was still strange to him, but suddenly he knew what he was doing. He was here to save Silk. His lips lifted and beads of sweat trickled past a smile, because he’d remembered what mattered most.
The sun beat down from a copper sky, but Haze straightened and walked on. He could have flown, but realized he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, which was strange. He paused again, but his memories trickled away like water cupped in bare hands. Why was he undercover?
His jaw set and a single drop welled up from the dry basin of his mind. This was Vertigo, a Harvester world and his wife was a slave here, forced to fight in its arena. A growl vibrated through him to echo off the scorching cliff face and rumble down the valley. He remembered everything and knew exactly what he had to do.
Haze tucked away his wings and walked. The crowd thickened as he loped down to the city, but he ignored the press of people. He closed his fist around the sharp crystal embedded in his palm and began to climb the slope to the arena. It loomed above the slave town like a raptor on a tweet.
The crowd pressed closer and Haze stepped over a drunken mutt without noticing. Several razorbacks hooted and hissed behind him, but he never looked back. His fronds stirred though, lifting from behind his ears to track the creatures when they followed him, pulling against the chains wrapped around their throats. One got its beak through a link and snapped it with a single peck. It charged up the hill, making people yell and leap aside.
Haze waited until it was about to run him down, then somersaulted backward over it. A single blast from his com disintegrated the giant bird and he continued on again, through a spray of feathers. He was scarcel
y aware of the distraction. He had only one goal and he held it in the palm of his hand. He would find Silk and save her, and they would spend the rest of their lives together.
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