by S. E. Green
“Ignatius tells me you fought well.” He raises both brows. “In fact, you’ve made me quite a bit of money.”
I don’t like where this is going.
He shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe I’ll send you back just to make more.”
What? My world tilts. My head spins. I fall to my knees. “No.”
Dominus laughs like he thinks The Hole is the funniest joke ever. “Get cleaned up. You have no days of rest. I expect to see you out here training tomorrow. And… I have news of your sister.”
Shakily, I reach for his foot and he steps back as if just the thought of my touch is repugnant. I fist my hand into my chest. I don’t want to do anything to offend him.
I look up at him, pleading. “What news?”
“I know she was moved off of Saligia and is currently somewhere in Taiwan. That is all I know. It’s not much, but it’s something.”
Graciously, I nod my head. “Thank you.” Tawain. Is that close to us? Is it far? I don’t know, and I don’t want to ask. I don’t want to do anything to upset Dominus.
He strolls indifferently past and I stay right where I am, kneeling in the dirt of the training area.
“You can get up now,” Alexior quietly tells me.
I don’t think I can. Maybe I can just curl up and sleep right here with thoughts of my sister swirling through my head.
Alexior kneels down beside me. He takes my dirty hand and opens my stiff fingers and places my sister’s bracelet in the palm.
He doesn’t immediately release my hand and we both stare down at her bracelet, my smaller hand, his larger one, the callouses on his, and the cuts and blisters on mine.
It’s been so long since I’ve had simple human contact. I wish I could drop my head into his lap and have him run his fingers along my scalp.
He releases my hand and I breathe out as I unsteadily get to my feet.
“Go get a bath,” he tells me. “I’ll find some food for you.”
~19~
Being filthy for three days makes a person truly appreciate cleanliness. This is my one and only thought as I recline in the hot water and give into the heaviness of sleep. I don’t worry about drowning. Surely inhalation of the water will wake me up.
A tap on my chin has my eyelids slowly opening. How long have I been out? Seems like a whole night, but from the darkness outside, it must’ve been only minutes.
Alexior hands me a hunk of bread with a slab of cheese and puts a goblet of water down. As I greedily tear into it, I wince at the rawness in my mouth. I’d forgotten about my missing tooth.
He paces away. “The Hole is not something you’ll ever forget. But you can train your mind to not think about it. Find new thoughts. Use the distant memory to form new habits, new rules, a new you.”
He looks back at me. “I’ve been to The Hole. I know what you had to do to survive.”
I swallow a chunk of unchewed bread and follow it with a gulp of water. “You fought in The Hole?”
“No, I was a spectator.”
My lips curl in disgust and my body stiffens.
“It’s not what you think,” he reads my mind. “And I’m not explaining it to you. Just know I’ve been. I’ve seen. I know.”
“Is that what Ignatius did? Trained his mind not to think about it?”
“Yes. Ignatius has had to train his mind not to think about a lot of stuff. It’s how he survives.”
Sadness creeps through me, followed by confusion from old thoughts. “I don’t get it. He’s free now…”
Alexior glances toward the bars that separate our bathing area from the tunnel, like he thinks someone might be lingering, listening. “No one is ever really free,” he speaks so quietly I barely even hear him.
Before I have time to ask what he means, he is gone.
~20~
Me and Lena pull up to a security gate outside of Mr. Vasquez’s estate. The officer takes my name, checks a list, and then motions us on through.
Simultaneously, we both lean forward. The cobblestone driveway gently curves along a path of swaying palms and colorful gardens, and beyond the gardens I catch sight of a glistening pond.
A final turn reveals what can only be described as a mansion, or a small hotel for that matter. It sprawls in front of us, all white stucco and gleaming clean, with private balconies off of every room on the second floor.
I looked it up online and know it’s thirteen thousand square feet with seven bedrooms, eight baths, a movie theater, a wine cellar, six-car garage, and an Olympic-size lap pool.
“That’s a lot of rooms to clean,” my sister whispers and we both laugh.
“What are you smiling at?” Camille asks.
I shake my head, “Memories,” and dig a fig out of my breakfast bowl.
Gem glances over to where Razo sits before pulling her attention back to me and Camille. She’s been doing a lot of that lately, ever since that night in the villa. Razo must sense her gaze because he too glances up, and then averts his eyes.
Other than while training or eating, we are not allowed to interact with the opposite sex. Alexior is the only one permitted in the women’s quarters. If something’s developing between Razo and Gem, I’m not sure how that’s supposed to work.
Normally these types of things don’t matter to me (guy and girl stuff). I’ve always had more important issues to worry about. Like taking care of Lena. But in this sick place, if Gem and Razo can somehow make each other happy, then they should.
There’s no telling how long either one of them will be alive. We could all be dead this time next week.
I see Sera’s shadow a fraction of a second before she shoves me so hard I fall off the bench I’m sitting on. My bowl of figs and oats tumble to the dirt.
“Only warriors get to eat here,” she sneers coldly. “Not dogs from The Hole.”
Camille shoots to her feet, her face red with indignation. “Leave her alone,” she snaps. “Dominus released her. She’s one of us again.”
Sera picks up a fig and throws it at me. “She’ll never be one of us.”
Ignatius steps between me and Sera and hands me what’s left in his bowl. Then he turns to Sera in a silent challenge and she narrows her one eye at me before turning and striding off.
“Thanks,” Camille says to Ignatius.
He doesn’t respond, but he does look down at me.
Quick images of The Hole flash through my brain, and I cringe.
Following Alexior’s advice, I consciously shove the images away. Ignatius nods, just once, like he’s watching my thought process and approves, before turning and walking off.
“That was strange,” Camille whispers.
I poke through the bowl he gave me. Maybe Ignatius and I could talk sometime. To my knowledge he’s the only other one of us who has been forced to fight in The Hole. Somehow I can’t see him peeling skin off someone. What did he do to get sent to that hell?
Then again, I don’t want to talk about it. I want to cram it far away, just like he apparently has.
“You know,” Gem quietly says, “if you ever want to talk—”
“I don’t,” I immediately cut her off, looking at both her and Camille sternly. “Never. Don’t ever ask me again.”
Camille swallows hard. “Okay. We won’t.”
I grab both of their hands and squeeze too hard. “Don’t ever do anything to get sent there. Do you understand me?”
They both nod and try for small forced smiles.
The corners of my mouth tug down and I release their hands. I don’t want them to see me as anything less than strong. I get to my feet and head straight to the training area.
Respect and trust. I will gain that from everyone. That is my new goal. Whether I want it or not, I have a new identity. Saligia has given it to me. The Hole has, too.
There is power in control. I will control my thoughts. I will control my body. People may think they have power over me, but they most certainly do not.
~21~
“Switch!” Alexior shouts.
I race down to the end of the line and crash my sword into Gem’s. She blocks, swat kicks my legs, and I leap into the air.
“Switch!” he shouts again.
Gem steps out of line and sprints to the end and Sera takes her place.
Right. Left. Right. She assaults me with her wooden sword, putting all her weight behind it, making it obvious this isn’t a practice round for her. I block with my shield, sideswipe her shin, and she palms my ear.
My neck cracks, my vision blurs, my ear rings, and then everything goes mute. Dammit. I clench my jaw and lunge.
“Pick!” Alexior barks.
Sera snickers and spins away, grabs a ball and chain, and twirls it toward a wooden post. Everyone else takes their chosen weapon and executes.
I dash toward my spear, snatch, and fling it toward the round leather target. It whistles through the air, hits in the exact center, and I smirk. Damn, I’m getting good.
“Back!” he yells.
We tear into line, pick up our swords, and begin again. On and on we practice—switch, pick, back—until sweat drips, heart pounds, and breaths come in pants.
“Halt!” Alexior hollers.
Simultaneously, we all breathe out.
Sera shoves Felicia. “Make this one into a house slave. She’s nothing.”
“I’m trying,” Felicia says through gritted teeth and holds up her wrapped arm. “What do you expect?”
“I expect you to man up. We all have injuries.” She motions around the training area. “Broken ribs, bruises, gashes, stitches, swollen muscles.” Sera takes an intimidating step toward her. “You don’t see any of us whining.”
Felicia cowers, and Camille and I exchange a fed up glance. If Sera wants to beat her up, go ahead. I’m not getting into this. There is absolutely nothing I agree with Sera on, but she does have a point about Felicia. She would rather surrender than even try. I have no respect for her. She’s weak. I know it. Camille and Gem know it. All the warriors know it. It’s only a matter of time.
“Warriors!” Dominus greets us from the terrace, and we take that as our cue to line in formation. Weeks ago I didn’t understand how they could stand in rapt attention, staring up at him, but now I naturally do it, like I’m becoming brainwashed, too.
Several of the rich elite stand with him and I study their faces. I recognize a few of them from the auctioning block. I do not see Domina or Bareket, though.
“We’ve put together a new exposition,” Dominus addresses us. “There will be several pre-show fights and then the main event. I have one word for you…”
Grinning, he glances to the elite standing on his right and then the ones on his left, like he can barely stand whatever demented news he’s about to deliver. “Zebulon.”
Beside me Ignatius stiffens. It’s slight and if I were not inches from him, I would not notice, but whoever Zebulon is, that name does not sit well with Ignatius.
“Zebulon is the only undefeated warrior in Saligia. He has killed more fighters than anyone else. He is the one warrior to be in the arena with ten others and to kill them all. He is a god among us. He is revered.” Dominus looks down at Ignatius. “One of you knows him very well.”
Though I do not, I want to glance over at Ignatius.
“This event is Zebulon’s idea,” Dominus says with a chuckle. “I believe his exact words were, ‘I’m bored. I need a good fight’.”
This Zebulon, I can see it now—being brought here, times goes by, years even… fighting, winning, becoming seduced by the accolades and violence and gore.
“There will be no surrender,” Dominus continues. “Either he dies or the opponents die. That is the only option.”
Wait a minute, what? Buried memories from The Hole creep forward.
“Zebulon has requested two fighters from this ludus to stand against him. The first—” Dominus looks to the end of the line—“Sera, the Serpent of Saligia.”
Sera grunts and steps forward to waggle her infamous tongue. For Ignatius’ sake, I hope he’s not the second choice.
“The second.” Dominus runs his gaze down the line and lands on… me? “Valoria, the defiant one.”
My stomach drops.
“You have one week to prepare.” Dominus claps his hands, indicating he’s done talking, and Sera and I turn to face each other.
“Fuck,” she says.
With this, I agree.
The warriors head into the shade for lunch, and Ignatius turns to Alexior. Seeing the two of them stand eye to eye, chest to chest, is something. Ignatius is taller by a head but they are both just as broad. Just as intimidating.
“I should be the one who fights Zebulon,” Ignatius tells Alexior in a voice that sometimes seems so deep it’s nearly inaudible. “I request it.”
Alexior holds his eyes level. “If it was my decision, I would allow it. But you know it is not.”
Ignatius folds his arms and looks up to the terrace where Dominus was standing. Then he turns his hard eyes on me before switching them to Sera. “I want to be involved in their training.”
Alexior nods. “Done.”
“I’m the only who’s fought Zebulon and survived. The only way to defeat him is to work as one. If you work separately, he’ll kill you both. There’s no surrender with him. Never.” Ignatius turns his gaze back to me. “Do you see the scars on my body?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“They were put here by Zebulon,” he tells me. “He set me on fire and then he laughed while my skin melted.”
I squelch everything in me that wants to comfort. Comfort is not something done in Saligia.
“He thought I was dead. That’s the only reason I lived. Alexior dragged me from the arena.” Ignatius glances back up to the terrace and I watch as every muscle in his scarred face clenches. “You two will kill him. It’s not an option.”
He walks off and I stay standing in the training area, visualizing the haunting scene. The fire. The melting skin. The laughter. Ignatius. Alexior dragging him from the arena.
I turn to Alexior. “I didn’t realize you two have known each other that long.”
“I’ve been here many years,” he simply responds and follows after Ignatius.
I look at Sera. At her eye patch. At her perpetual disapproving sneer. “They’re right. We have to work as a team. We have to kill Zebulon. For Ignatius.”
Sera huffs. “I’m not working with you. I don’t need you to kill Zebulon. I can do that all by myself.
I sigh. Of course she’s going to be a bitch.
~22~
Alexior swings both swords through the air, cracking them against mine and Sera’s and spinning us both to the dirt.
“Work as one!” he shouts.
Sera jumps to her feet and yells as she charges. Alexior rotates his sword and uppercuts the heel of it hard into her chin. Her teeth crack together and she winces. He sidekicks her and sends her flailing backwards.
I roll, grab my spear, and fling. He snatches it right out of the air, twirls it in his fingers, and slings it back. I flatten my body to the dirt and it hisses the air above me as it glides past.
That was close. Too close.
“Idiots!” he spits. “Pathetic idiots. What don’t you understand about ‘work as one’?”
I do understand! I want to yell and point at Sera. It’s her!
“We’ve been at this for hours and I’ve beaten both of you every single time.” Alexior gives us a disgusted look. “Arrogant.”
Ignatius steps up and waits for Sera and I to get back on our feet. When we do, he slowly reaches over his head, grabs his tunic, and slides it off.
I’ve seen him without his tunic once before on the night Domina requested him in the villa. But still, the sight of his scarring is unnerving.
Jagged, keloid patches mangle his olive tone skin in a horrendous maze. Though I try very hard not to, I can’t help but grimace when I look upon him. The pain had to be excruciating.
&
nbsp; And then there’s the agony of what he must have gone through in The Hole. This man, who can’t be more than twenty-five years old, has seen so much suffering.
Proudly, he stands before us in only his white undergarment, letting us look at him as the sun sets behind him. Making us look at him.
Several quiet, tense, uncertain seconds go by before he leans down and picks up one single sword and no shield. His voice is low when he speaks. “Prove yourself worthy.”
Prove ourselves worthy to defend his name. To go up against the person who did this to him and obtain retribution. To take his place in this event. To kill Zebulon. Prove ourselves by working as one.
Sera and I exchange a resolute glance, and in that one determined look I see the care she has for Ignatius. Their friendship and respect runs deep. If she is truly going to work with me, he will be the reason why. She would risk death for him and vice versa. I would lay a good solid bet that she is the primary reason he stays here.
She nods, ever so slightly, and together we charge. She’s on his right, I’m on his left, and we circle and duck and swerve and lunge.
The movement confuses him, as it was meant to, and he blocks Sera on the right as I stab him on the left. We’re using practice swords, but even wood is not comfortable.
He bends with the stab and Sera hooks her foot around his ankle and yanks. Ignatius falls to one knee and I quickly circle behind to place the tip of my sword at the base of his neck. Sera steps in front and mirrors my action at his Adam’s Apple.
He holds up a finger. Surrender.
A satisfied smile curls my lips. I look over his shoulder at Sera to see her scowling at me. Fine. Scowl. But we did work as one and we actually won.
