Descendants

by Rae Else

  Louisa’s voice rang through the room. ‘Drakon, Devereux, victor.’

  There was a round of applause. Everyone in the tiered seating stood as El exited the arena. She stared past in a daze as she watched the woman with the blistered arms and charred smelling skin push her way through the onlookers until she was swallowed by the crowd. There was a hubbub of excitement rushing through the spectators, their exclamations stirred by the match. Speculation of how El would fight tomorrow swept through the room.

  She was staring after the woman, longing to take back what she’d just done. She felt like she was sinking in the crowd’s ceaseless babble. It was moving into her, through her and she was drowning.

  Someone held her arm. She looked up and felt Dan’s warm gaze on her face. He stood so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek. She inhaled the hint of smoke that clung to his skin and hair. The fragrance of clean smoke, unpolluted by charred skin – smoke from the fire performance tonight, tinged with night air. She breathed in his scent, tasting the hint of coffee on his breath too, rich and deep. She felt like she had taken ambrosia, her mind stilled, wanting to taste everything that made up this man.

  His lips pressed against hers and the desire to dismantle everything was stifled. The need to understand vanished. She understood him perfectly this way. The invisible fire within was all, and stoked her insides as his tongue explored her mouth. The feeling consumed her, triggering waves of heat to rise within. Dan’s hands twisted through her hair, running over her scalp. She felt like she was melting. Her arms coiled around his shoulders and neck.

  His lips left hers but his arms still held her. She spotted Cam behind him, who was trying to tug him away. Once again, El remembered how dangerous it was for him to be here. She pushed him back towards Cam, her eyes telling him to go.

  ‘And I thought the last place I wanted to do that,’ he whispered, ‘wasn’t private enough.’

  El smiled but pushed him away again towards Cam. He let go and hurried off in Cam’s wake. Once more El felt his glowing eyes before he was engulfed by the crowd. But it was enough. She felt lighter. Despite all the talk that was rising about her, she felt nameless. The name of Devereux receded into the distance, into a space that didn’t matter. The only thing that beat through her now was a prayer for Dan. He had to get out of here. Concern filled her that he’d be caught but, at the same time, a smile crept across her lips. He’d come for her. Despite the danger, he’d come to see her. With her whole being she hoped that the Order members were so focused on her, that he’d manage to steal out of the building and reach the safety of the night.

  - Chapter Twenty-Four -

  The Blessed Isle

  El lay on the bed, staring out at the London skyline. The sun was setting, the last of its light washing the white dome of St Paul’s Cathedral. The pastel blues and pinks reminded her of Rococo paintings. With the lavish colours and light above the celestial dome, she could imagine cherubs lying on the cottony clouds.

  As soon as the crowd had dispersed from the Gymnasium last night, El had been brought up here. The suite contained a bedroom, living room and bathroom. The set of rooms occupied almost half of the fortieth level, and the floor to ceiling windows presented a view of London on three sides.

  The right-hand side looked out onto the Gherkin, Walkie-Talkie and other skyscrapers. Their formation was still irregular, scattered by the tower she was imprisoned in. This was the view from the bathroom; El hadn’t been able to stay long in the bath as the unfamiliar view unnerved her.

  Deciding to get dressed, she eyed the plush designer clothes in the wardrobe briefly, before throwing on her outfit from yesterday. She took a seat in the living area and stared off across the river, tracing the shape of Southwark Cathedral. She estimated where the penthouse would be on the other bank and watched the point on the horizon, wondering if Alex was there, and Dan.

  She roughly towel dried her hair as her thoughts began to cycle the same path they had all day. One moment she replayed her kiss with Dan, letting nothing but the pleasure and sensation of his lips fill her mind. At the next, she worried that he would be reckless and reappear tonight. The worry grew heavier. What if he hadn’t made it out last night? She imagined him in a dank, dark cell. Just like the one her grandma was likely in. The only assurance she had that he wasn’t, was that if he’d been caught Louisa would be sure to have tormented her with such news.

  The typhon hadn’t come to see her at all, nor the Triad. Not that El was complaining. The only visitor she’d had was the arete guard who had escorted her up here last night. He’d brought her food: morning, noon and earlier this evening. She felt a pang of hunger. She’d only managed a bite of the croissant and jam for breakfast. The heady rush of flavours – sweet, juicy strawberries and buttery folds of pastry – had been overwhelming. She’d wanted to eat but the images the taste induced were all consuming. Unnerved, and feeling like she was losing her grip on reality, she’d left the rest.

  She’d asked for food without ambrosia for lunch but her request had gone unanswered. Her dinner tray lay by the door, untouched as well. When she’d lifted the lid from the plate she’d been assaulted by an array of aromas. Beneath the complex seasoning, the overriding scent was of blood and fat, wafting up from the rare-cooked steak. It turned her stomach, evoking the charred flesh that she’d smelled last night in the Gymnasium. If she ever got out of this place there was a good chance she was turning veggie.

  What she wouldn’t give for some plain bread. She’d already drained her pitcher of water that was thankfully devoid of ambrosia. She felt like she was in a gilded cage, separated from the real world and slowly being poisoned by the excess of everything.

  She wondered how she’d last the weeks, or months even, in this confined space. She would have to start eating tomorrow but an empty stomach tonight was probably a good thing. Her stomach was twisted by nerves too as the second arena drew ever closer. El wondered if her match would draw the crowds again. Word of the Triad’s prediction could only have spread further so there was little doubt that the stadium would be packed. She contemplated the dark sweep of the Thames and watched as the lights from streetlamps and buildings filtered the gloom as night descended.

  El started when the door opened. She’d lost track of time. Louisa came into the living room, her eyes finding her on the sofa despite the shadows.

  ‘Melancholy, are we?’ Louisa asked.

  In truth, El hadn’t been aware of how dark it had grown, becoming lost in her thoughts the last few hours. She reached for her boots by the sofa and hastily laced them up. It wasn’t until they were in the corridor, where El caught sight of her reflection in a mirror, that she realised she hadn’t brushed her hair. She raked her fingers through it, trying to neaten it but stopped as Louisa smirked.

  In the sleek, marbled corridor they entered the vast lift. The typhon pressed the button for the top floor. Despite El’s climbing heart rate, it wasn’t until the number sixty flew by on the display panel above the door that she spoke.

  ‘But–’

  ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ Louisa said. ‘The Triad thought it pertinent to speed things up. You’ve been granted the honour of bypassing the second arena and entering the Elysium tonight.’

  El’s heart hammered like it meant to fight its way from her chest. One, two, breathe she told herself. This time as the arena opened out, deafening applause struck her. Louisa gave her a vial and waited, with sparkling eyes. Shakily, El tipped back the container and was barely able to swallow. Her mouth was suddenly dry and the empousa blood did nothing to help but felt claggy as she swallowed.

  She walked out beside Louisa in a daze, unsure if her trembling was due to the shock of being in the Elysium or a reaction to the hundreds of eyes that flew over her. The tiers around the stadium were crowded with Order members. Every tingle, flurry of temperature, weighted gaze and quickening glance felt intrusive. She wondered if every eye was assessing her as she had th
e combatants in the Gymnasium. Her expression was frozen with fear. The dread mounted and her eyes sailed from the crowd to the central space.

  Her voice seemed to catch in her throat and she coughed; the night air was dry. Even though it was summer, the air felt unnaturally hot and tropical. She felt the warmth flare over her skin, more so than any other sensation. There were more fire arete gathered within the tiers than any other.

  The cold, grey stairs and platforms of yesterday’s arena were gone. Today there were sandy banks in the centre. Warm-coloured limestone pillars lay amidst the sand – some angled like ancient ruins buried beneath, others stood upright with pediments on top. Those standing had reliefs carved into the stone. She spied the relief of a chariot and horses on one.

  In amongst the sand were tropical plants and flowers. They made her think of Tia and Adam’s place, as well as the penthouse in the evenings when the nymphs had grown trees. These plants and flowers weren’t particularly green though. They were all the same colour scheme: fluted and spikey orange, yellow and red flowers. Their petals were starting to open up. El looked about the tiers and observed that there were hesperides present who were tending to the flowers, their warm gazes nourishing them like the rays of the sun. The pool of water on the outside was more like a hot spring, the steam rising hazily.

  Louisa gestured down into the arena and El descended the limestone staircase; each step was fuelling the dread in her and the inevitability of the impending fight. It wasn’t until she was at the bottom of the stairs that she craned her neck back and looked up. The giant glass snake was directly above her as if rearing up, ready to strike. She spied the Triad ensconced in its mouth.

  She turned to examine the darkness in front of her. There were the sandy platforms ahead but gaps issued in between and, with her heightened senses, she scanned the murk below. She sensed the deep space, but it was dense and moved. It had been about a twenty metre drop into which the typhon had fallen last time, but now there was a shorter distance, below which a deep volume of water rested.

  She looked up at the sand banks and pillars, decorated with colourful foliage. It was like the Roman amphitheatres she’d studied in pictures, which were flooded or stocked with exotic animals for gladiatorial shows, mimicking sea battles or hunts through the jungle. No doubt, the fire theme was on her account: the drakon that was foreseen to have the full power. They were marking what was to come. Through the central columns, she spied her opponent – a slim looking woman with dark, bobbed hair. The woman’s eyes confirmed what El had suspected when she’d found the deep water below. Her gaze bored into El like slivers of ice – a hydra.

  Siren song rained down from above – the prelude to the match. The sound sent a shiver down El’s spine and cold seeped through her; it churned up all her fears. She shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t part of the plan. She imagined Cam waiting in the second arena below, ready to report back to the rebels with tonight’s results. It would be too late by then. El’s heart hammered. She was alone. No one was coming to help her. She would have to get through this fight by herself. She tried to imagine that this was the second arena but couldn’t pretend that the stakes weren’t higher. The certainty that either she or the woman opposite wouldn’t be coming out of the arena alive coursed through her.

  The overseers’ voices resounded around the stadium. They were explaining their presence – to stabilise the structure and direct unwanted elements away from the audience. El tried to still her drumming heart as their flat words fell over her. The sound of her own name issuing through the arena penetrated her thoughts.

  ‘Devereux, drakon versus Pallis, hydra!’

  The name of the hydra conjured to El’s mind an image of the goddess, Pallas Athena. Her opponent, Pallis may not be wearing the heavy armour and brandishing the spear the mighty maiden goddess wore, but her eyes were as lethal as any spearhead.

  Suddenly, the shout of commencement rang through the stadium. The crowd thundered into life and El felt as if she was in the eye of a storm. She flung herself from the step and bounded onto a sandy bank, just as a wave of water crashed up behind her. She bolted up the mound and drew from the fire of the torches up above, willing the flame down and directing it at Pallis on the other side of the arena. Pallis jumped across to a sandy platform and rolled down the bank away from the flames chasing her.

  El leapt onto an angled pillar, running up it, instinctively wishing to get as high as possible and away from the shadowy waters below. She turned her gaze to the woman, who was already vaulting up a column and gaining higher ground. El manipulated the fire near Pallis, setting the surrounding plants and flowers alight. Their bright fronds sizzled and blackened. Pallis’ eyes stole past El. Moisture was rising from the wet sand, rivulets rose skywards, amassing into a thick body of water. More was issuing up from the chasm. Now that the hydra was on higher ground, the water down below was in her line of sight.

  El sprinted up the column and clambered onto the triangular pediment, on level with Pallis now, who was about three metres ahead of her. El willed the fire to rise from the burning foliage, from the torches up above and the flames flew towards them. She let them roll down towards the waves that were bearing closer. White foam frothed upon the watery peaks, veering towards her. The sound roared in her ears and she pushed all the flames into the waves, hoping the blanket of fire would devour them.

  A second body of water rose from the depths and took El by surprise, pummelling her and breaking her contact with the fire. She could feel the warmth in her core dissipating. The fire was choked. The wave knocked El from her position and she slid down the pediment, trying to get a grip on the rock. The surface was smooth and she slipped further down the limestone. She spluttered, panic spurting through her as she thought of the depths below. Her fingers found a crevice.

  She pulled herself up a little onto the slope. However, Pallis was standing on the tip of the pediment, her eyes pinned on her. This was it. El willed herself to look into her eyes. If she didn’t do it now, she was going to die. Thoughts of the pit below and of the deep waters took hold. She latched onto the hydra’ gaze, seeing their watery hue and chill. Take it, she willed herself. Take her power. El tried to imagine her energy like fire ripping through the serpent, wrapping itself around her power. Nothing happened.

  Pallis’ gaze flicked down and El heard the waters begin to churn before their full fury rushed over her. They ripped her off the structure. The violent beat of El’s heart flooded her body. The night sky above broadened as she fell but its blackness ruptured. The whole sky was suddenly ablaze. A circle of fire bathed the dark. As she fell, El thought the sun had somehow broken through the night. She twisted and turned, the fiery sphere fading as the gloom swallowed her.

  - Chapter Twenty-Five -

  The Siege of the Olympia

  El fell through velvet darkness, her heart drumming, knowing that when she struck the water it would shatter her body, and swallow her. It occurred to her that the hydra might repel the water away and she would meet the marble floor instead. As she met the water, expecting it at once to break her and drag her down, she was surprised to find herself still breathing. She heaved in a great lungful of air and her limbs, unharmed, moved frantically, buoying her up.

  With every second that passed, she expected the liquid to engulf her but it didn’t. It was some time before she realised that the water level was rising and, instead of consuming her, it was holding her. It was bringing her back up. She coughed and spluttered as the cradling wave pitched her out from the chasm and onto the sandy bank of the arena. She crawled up the verge.

  The cool tingle across El’s cheek was so familiar that, even before she caught sight of him, she knew he was there. She looked up at Luke, who was pulling her up. She blinked, bleary-eyed. Dan stood there too and took hold of her other arm. They stumbled along, sheltering on the left-hand side of the limestone staircase.

  They set her down. All of them crouched. El’s mind finall
y caught up with what had happened and realised the fiery blaze that she’d first thought was the sun, had been the shuttered eye. Dan and the other rebels had entered the arena and sent the symbol up.

  ‘How did you know I was here?’ El asked. Her voice was strained and she closed her eyes, still catching her breath.

  Luke’s cool gaze tingled against her cheek again. ‘I overheard my father talking to Order members last night, after the Gymnasium. They said that the Triad’s premonition had drawn a lot more Order members here than ever before. The Triad, thinking of the security, had called your final match forward. When I heard, I went to Alex.’

  Despite Luke’s words, and how he’d clearly been the one to save her from the abyss below, Dan glowered at him.

  El had been too shell-shocked to notice before but now heard the crashes above them: the Opposition was fighting the Order. Ladon on both sides, unable to alter the composition of the impervious building, took the offensive. The pillars in the middle, intended for competitors, were clean of empousa blood. On both sides, earth manipulators were demolishing them and hurling hunks of stone. Thuds echoed through the arena like an earthquake. The sandstorm raging above obscured the fighting, making the screaming and shouting eerier as though disembodied beings were warring in the sky.

  ‘I’ve got to help,’ Dan said.

  El nodded.

  ‘Rest,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘Stay here.’ He narrowed his eyes at Luke before he bolted up the stairs to the stadium above.

  Her gaze roved Luke. A purplish bruise tinged his cheek and jaw. She wondered if she’d caused it during their fight in the Gymnasium or had he attained it when he’d showed up to see Alex and Dan? Perhaps he’d been hurt saving her from the hydra’s clutches now.