Exiles

by Jaye L. Knight

  “I’ll ride,” Daniel replied without even thinking about it.

  He caught a suspicious glance from his father. No doubt he expected him to try to bolt as soon as he was outside the gate. Daniel knew better than to try, but if this were his only opportunity to ride his horse, he’d take it.

  His mother nodded and instructed one of the footmen to send word to the stablehands to have his horse saddled.

  Daniel kept silent for the remainder of the meal for his mother’s sake. The situation weighed on her enough already. After all, how could she take one side or the other? She had to walk a fine line between him and his father. He didn’t envy her position.

  When all plates were empty, save for Daniel’s, they left their seats.

  “Time to go to the arena,” his father said, a hum of excitement in his voice.

  If it were for any other purpose, Daniel might have been excited too. But he couldn’t summon even a drop of anticipation. He was more likely to retch his breakfast all over the floor.

  His father offered his mother his arm and guided her out of the dining room. Daniel glanced at Davira as she came alongside him to follow. Under normal circumstances, he should offer his arm to her, but she gave him a ‘don’t even think about it’ look that contained more violent connotations. He wouldn’t put it past her to stab or try to maim him in some way.

  Outside, the gilded royal carriage awaited, along with Daniel’s gray gelding whose coat shone from a thorough grooming. His mane was even braided with black and gold ribbons that Daniel would have skipped, but he wasn’t about to complain considering this bit of freedom.

  “Hey, boy.” He patted the horse’s neck and offered him the sugar cube he’d pilfered from the table.

  The horse crunched it eagerly, and Daniel pulled himself up into the saddle, careful not to dishevel his clothing, though the doublet was so stiff, he doubted he could have if he tried. He took up the reins, and the gelding pranced, ready for a good run.

  “Sorry, not today,” Daniel murmured, as antsy as his mount. He could use a run as badly as his horse to work out his nerves.

  The carriage pulled away from the palace with three mounted guards, including Aric, leading the way. Daniel followed. Ten more guards took up positions around and behind him. Were they for his protection, or to keep him from escaping? Most likely the latter. He couldn’t deny the urge to let his horse have his head and bolt the moment they passed through the gate. However, the guards did an excellent job of boxing him in.

  They turned along the road that led toward the new arena. The sight was impressive—a mountainous monument to his grandfather, its freshly cut stone fitted together with expert precision. Gold and black banners rippled from their poles along the very top of the arena, while thinner streamers fluttered from the outside balcony of the highest level six stories up. So disgustingly festive.

  A buzz of voices and commotion drew Daniel’s attention away from the arena. Just ahead, people lined the streets to watch them pass. Both children and adults alike waved small flags, while young girls tossed handfuls of golden colored flower petals into the air above the street. Daniel caught a glimpse of his father waving from the window of the carriage as people called out birthday greetings.

  Daniel let loose a huge sigh when, as the carriage passed, attention turned to him. Women and girls shrilly shouted his name, the rising pitch making him squirm. He ignored them and refused to wave. Instead, he scanned the crowd for anyone he knew. Of course, in a gathering this size, recognizing anyone would be nearly impossible. However, halfway to the arena, a face caught his eye. Snapping his gaze to the man, he spotted Ben and Mira. His heart reacted, though he didn’t let it manifest outwardly. He longed to stop and speak with them but did not slow his pace. Just before he lost sight of them, Ben gave him an encouraging nod that bolstered Daniel’s resolve.

  “Thank You, Elôm,” he whispered. He’d needed that more than he could put into words.

  When they arrived at the arena, Daniel stared at the number of people filing through the multiple entrances. They swarmed like ants surrounding an anthill, though not nearly so industrious. Of course, gladiator fights were popular among the people. His father had taken him to several in the old arena during his youth and teen years, but he’d refused to go once he’d reached young adulthood—another reason his father considered him weak. It wasn’t the gore that bothered him as much as the barbarity of it all. No one should have the power to force men to fight and kill each other for sport. Today would be even worse. At least gladiators had training, and some even chose the life. Today people would be slaughtered without any hope of defending themselves. Did the spectators realize this was what they had paid to see?

  Ahead of the carriage, Aric called for people to make way, and the carriage slowly rolled through as the crowd parted. Daniel’s guards stayed particularly close, making his gelding skittish.

  “Easy,” he murmured as the horse tossed its head and tugged at the reins. But if they bolted, it wouldn’t be his fault. The only problem would be the people. He didn’t want to trample anyone.

  A moment later, they arrived at the private entrance partitioned off for his family. One of the attendants there took his horse’s reins as he slid down and walked to the carriage. While he waited for his parents and sister to climb out, he craned his neck back to look up at the arena. The muted echo of thousands of voices drifted from the arched openings of each level’s balcony. The arena must be more than half-full already.

  When they walked inside, the shadows of the thick stone halls offered immediate shelter from the hot sun. It didn’t dispel the dampness in the air, but at least the sun wasn’t beating down on his black doublet anymore.

  Aric led them all through one of the perimeter halls and up a flight of steps. An ornate barred gate opened up to their right. Taking another short hall, Daniel found it opened up to a section of viewing boxes set aside for nobility. Those who had already arrived greeted his father, wishing him a happy birthday and congratulating him on the completion of the arena.

  Daniel exchanged brief greetings with the men and their wives before following his father to the royal viewing box. He had only visited the arena a couple of times during construction. To see it in its completion was admittedly incredible.

  Thirty feet below, the elongated, sand-covered floor waited to receive its victims. All around, rising up at an angle, were the six levels of the viewing stands. Just as he’d expected, they were nearly full of people. Like a giant, oval-shaped bowl, it gave everyone a perfect view of the carnage that would take place in just a short time. His gaze traveled around the perimeter of the arena before snagging at one end. Towering figures of Aertus and Vilai flanked the main gate as if presiding over the proceedings. Daniel scowled and swallowed down his disgust.

  His parents took their seats on their padded chairs with Davira to their mother’s left. An attendant gestured for Daniel to take the chair to his father’s right, and he slowly sank into the cushions. He winced at the agitated gurgle in his stomach, especially when he noticed the table off to the side laden with decanters of wine and platters of delicacies. A young woman stood at either side waiting to serve them.

  For the next several minutes, spectators continued to fill the stands—both men and women. It looked as though more than half the city attended. Once the arena was full, his father motioned to one of the attendants, who stepped forward and blew a gold trumpet. As the echo of it died, so did the voices, and the arena grew silent. His father rose from his chair and stepped to the edge of the viewing box. Daniel’s mother and Davira did as well. Daniel didn’t move until his mother motioned to him. With a sigh, he joined them just behind his father, who addressed the crowd.

  “Citizens of Arcacia, welcome to the grand opening of the Draicon Arena. May it forever stand in memory of my father, the great King Draicon.” He paused and thunderous applause surrounded them, reverberating and bouncing off the curved walls before finally finding escape through t
he open roof. Once it died, he continued. “May it also stand in honor of the might of our gods and the prosperity they have granted us.”

  In a sweeping motion, he drew all eyes to the idols at the end of the arena. As if controlled by some unseen puppeteer, every person bowed toward the idols, the motion sweeping through the crowd like a wave. It made Daniel sick. His parents and Davira also bowed, but Daniel just stood straighter and looked up at the blue sky instead, sucking in a calming breath as he prayed. Give me strength and show me how to serve You amidst this madness, Lord.

  Everyone straightened again in the same sweeping motion.

  “Thank you all for attending,” his father said. “Now, let the games begin.”

  Another roar of applause hit Daniel’s ears and vibrated in his chest.

  As they turned back to their seats, his father’s fingers closed around his arm in a vice-like grip. “You’d better hope anyone who might have noticed you standing there will consider your refusal to bow as an act of youthful defiance and not an act of treason.”

  Daniel resisted the urge to yank away and cause a scene. “I still don’t see how refusing to worship your gods makes me a traitor when I’m perfectly loyal to my country and my people.”

  “It’s the gods who have bestowed on us this power and prospered this country. To dishonor them is to betray their favor and provoke their wrath.”

  Daniel barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Now was not the time or place to hash this out or test his father’s patience. His father gave him one final glare before switching his attention to the main gate. Another trumpet blew, and the barred gate opened. Led by two heavily armored men, who must have been champion gladiators riding a pair of white horses, a long procession circled the perimeter of the arena—first the mounted fighters and then a troupe of gladiators on foot arrayed in a variety of armor and weapons. They were a group of hard-faced, brawny men ready to prove their strength and skill against each other. The men in the stands hooted and cheered as if they were heroes, while the women all but swooned.

  At the very end of this parade of combatants came an uneven line of chained up men and women. Daniel stiffened. They shuffled past the royal viewing box, giving him a perfect view of the fifty or so individuals, all of whom would likely die here today. And it showed on their faces. Many of the women had tears staining their cheeks, while some of the men looked up at the stands with terror flashing in their eyes. Others seemed to have grimly accepted this fate.

  Daniel curled his fists. How could he sit here while his brethren met death for the amusement of a crowd? He had to restrain himself from calling down to them and commending them for their faith. His father would probably toss him over the edge to join them. That is, if Davira didn’t beat him to it.

  Daniel leaned to his left, his voice low but sharp. “Father, look at them. They are your citizens. Do they really look like traitors to you?”

  His father ignored him.

  After a full circle of the arena, the procession disappeared back through the gate. Once the arena had emptied, a buzz of curious conversation came from the crowd as they waited for the first show. A few moments later, a side gate opened and four wild horses bolted out into the arena. They trotted and galloped around, snorting loudly as they searched for an escape. A second gate opened. This time, two muscular wild cats with sandy-colored coats, faint stripes, and long fangs that jutted past their bottom jaw slunk out of their dark tunnel.

  Daniel grimaced. As if the day wasn’t unpleasant enough, first he’d have to watch wild animals tear each other apart. Where was the sport in that? His father drew great pride in how civilized Valcré had become during his family’s reign, yet people flocked in droves just to see these spectacles of violence. And they thought the ryriks’ thirst for blood was barbaric!

  Amidst yowls and hisses from the wild cats and the horses’ terrified shrieks, this first show came to a gory end. Next was a match between a large pickerin boar and a bear. One match after another pitted the wild animals against each other, ranging from more bears and wild cats to wolves and bulls.

  When animal carcasses littered the arena, slaves entered and carted them away, though the bloodstained sand remained. To up the excitement, the next bouts featured fighters against animals, the first being a burly man with a spear versus a huge male bear. Each match whet the people’s appetites for the main attraction of gladiators later in the afternoon and evening. Daniel did all he could to block out both the fights and the uproar of the crowd. These contests lasted most of the morning before moving on to a couple of horse races in which it was perfectly acceptable to unseat your opponent or ram them and their horse into the wall.

  At noon, servants brought generous portions of food to the viewing box. While his family ate eagerly, Daniel declined any for himself. The rising stench of sweat and blood bothered him more than it would have under different circumstances.

  The nauseous rolling of his stomach only increased when the main gate opened and a group of soldiers prodded three unarmed men and two women into the arena. Daniel recognized them as a few of the prisoners from the procession. Left alone in the middle of the arena, they looked around. Though he couldn’t make out their faces, he could almost feel their fear and uncertainty. His heart thudded in his chest, dreading what would come next. All around the stands, people quieted in anticipation.

  Then, after a long, suspenseful minute, a chilling roar echoed through the arena and one of the largest side gates rose. Out slunk a bulky, black reptilian creature the size of a large horse. It had a long neck, angular head, and large maw full of sharp teeth. Its claws dug into the sand as it slowly stalked toward the prisoners, who gripped each other in fear. Daniel had never seen such a creature before, though it resembled his father’s firedrakes. Two long scars on its shoulders and along its sides told him it had once had wings someone had cut off. It must have been a cave drake.

  Daniel gripped the arms of his chair so tightly his nails dug into the wood as the drake drew closer to the prisoners, hissing and growling. Foamy saliva dripped from its scaly lips. The group backed away, but they would only have so far to go before the arena walls blocked their escape. They backed closer and closer to the viewing box, and Daniel could feel the drake’s menacing growl in his chest. If he had a sword, he didn’t think anything could have prevented him from jumping down there and killing the beast. But he was powerless. Elôm, please do something.

  The beast lunged, and Daniel closed his eyes and turned his face away. Screams pierced his ears. His eyes burned behind his eyelids. The cries of terror and pain seemed to go on and on, but then everything fell silent. Daniel struggled not to heave up what little might be left in his stomach from breakfast.

  “Open your eyes,” his father hissed. “I’ll not have you display such weakness in front of an audience.”

  Daniel did open them but kept them away from the arena and the slaughter he couldn’t bear to witness. He ground his words through his teeth. “You can force me to sit here, but you can’t force me to watch.”

  If Daniel didn’t get away from his father soon, he didn’t know if he could keep himself from striking him, or strangling him, or something to knock some sense into him. Lord, give me strength! It was all he could do not to run from the arena the moment it was time to return to the palace for his father’s dinner celebration. Not that his legs would have supported such a flight. They shook as they took his weight, and his head pounded so hard he could barely see straight. He wasn’t sure if it was just the headache or the anger that pulsed through every nerve in his body. His throat was bone dry, but the first sip of liquid he took he would heave all over the stones. He just had to get out of here. If his father wanted him to attend any more games, they would have to drag him here and chain him to his chair.

  He clenched his jaw and fists as he followed his family back through the halls of the arena. Just outside, his mother took hold of his arm and drew him to a stop.

  “Daniel, are you
all right?” She touched his cheek. “You’re pale. Maybe you should ride with us in the carriage.”

  “No.” He pulled away from her. He’d been in close proximity to his father for long enough. Any longer and he’d probably do something that would have him in the arena during the next games. After today, that sent a wave of chills through his body. “I’ll ride.”

  He strode away before she could protest and mounted his waiting gelding. The motion made him slightly dizzy, but he shook it away. The sooner they left here the better.

  The ride back was brief, since there were no crowds waiting for them this time. As soon as they reached the palace, Daniel dismounted and went straight up to his chambers. Inside his sitting room, he sank into one of his chairs. He rubbed his eyes, but he couldn’t erase the disturbing images of carnage burned into them any more than he could stop the echoes of screams from ringing in his ears. How would he even sleep tonight? He rested his head back to let his taut muscles relax. It wasn’t easy, though, with the way the back of his skull throbbed.

  He flinched at the sudden knock at his door, soft as it was. “Come in,” he called, reluctant to leave his chair.

  The door swung open slowly, and his mother stepped in with a small tray against her hip. When was the last time he had seen her carry anything? She closed the door and walked over to him, setting the tray on the low table. A small teapot, a cup, and a plate of scones rested on it. Immediately, she poured a cup of tea and offered it to him. “Drink this.”

  Daniel held up his hand. “I don’t think I’d keep it down.”

  “You haven’t had anything to eat or drink since this morning. You have to get something in you. Just take it slowly.”

  Sighing, Daniel took the teacup and brought it to his lips. It wasn’t as sweet as he liked it, but that was probably a good thing right now. He took a tiny sip and let it settle in his stomach before braving another. At first, it made him queasy, but his stomach seemed to recognize the need for sustenance. After he’d downed a few more swallows without it coming back up, his mother offered him a scone. By now, he felt ravenous. He finished one and grabbed another before giving his mother a grateful look.