Linked

by K. R. Fajardo

  People all around stood to leave, Dirik followed as well, along with a very disappointed Citera.

  “If I may,” came a voice from below, recapturing everyone’s attention, “we are not through. There will be one final battle.” Tyran made his way back to the center of the arena looking very excited. “And what a special treat this will be. For even I have never had the privilege of witnessing these two take part in a head to head combat. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the two most powerful Full-bloods in existence, K and Jaron.”

  Everyone in the stands sat back down and gasped when K and Jaron walked out together each carrying a sword.

  “No way,” Dirik gasped, leaning forward and watching as they took their positions by Tyran’s side.

  Citera was both excited and surprised; in all the time she had known him, she had never witnessed Jaron fight. He always struck her as being similar to her father, willing to do what was necessary to protect the people he cared for, but never searching out a battle just for the fun of it.

  “This will be an even match with no rules,” Tyran announced over the chatter that had erupted in the stands. “The fight is over when someone yields or cannot continue.”

  “Wait, what?” Citera sat up. “They wouldn’t really hurt one another, would they?”

  Everyone watched as Tyran bowed slightly to the two of them, then turned and walked out of the ring. Without hesitation, K and Jaron dropped into their ready stances. A slight nod from K was all it took to get the match going, and in a flash the two of them locked onto each other with all they had. They moved in a blur around the arena as sparks flew from the metal swords clashing into one other. They definitely weren’t holding anything back. Citera gasped, along with much of the crowd, when Jaron dodged an attack and managed to land a well-placed kick that sent K sliding backwards and hitting hard against the rock wall of the arena. The entire audience jumped to its feet; even the strangers in the corner seemed to lose their concern for being noticed and moved to the front near the rail hoping to get a better look at what was going to happen.

  K stood up and dusted herself off, smiling. Jaron, in response, bowed his head slightly and dropped back down into his ready stance. Once again the two of them laid into the other with all the speed and strength they could muster. They continued on for over a half an hour before, in a blur, K landed a punch to Jaron’s head that left him disoriented for a moment. He was still struggling to recover when K pulled one of the blades from her hair and let it fly. Even in his stunned condition Jaron somehow managed to narrowly avoid the blade and immediately flew across the arena toward K. The bout continued that way for several more minutes, with Jaron and K each landing several more damaging blows to the other, blows that would have most definitely left anyone else incapacitated.

  Citera was beginning to think the battle would continue on into the night, when Jaron made a stunning move and knocked the sword clear from K’s hand. Thinking for sure he had her, Jaron moved in close with the sword pointed at her throat. K remained still, allowing him to come closer and closer, but when he drew his sword back to finish her off and end the battle, K took advantage of the opening, twisted around behind him, then pinned him to the ground. Jaron struggled to work himself free of the pin, but to no avail. With him helpless to do anything about it, K pulled the final blade from her hair and pressed it against his neck. A cascade of black hair fell down all around them both as she leaned forward and said something into his ear. Jaron nodded reluctantly and she released him. Then the pair of them stood in the center of the ring facing one another and bowed as the crowd once again erupted in a swell of cheer.

  “Now that was a battle,” Dirik exclaimed, jumping up and down with excitement.

  Together he and Citera moved to the front of the crowd and looked down over the rail as the pair, now accompanied by Tyran, headed for the edge of the arena. Despite the lengthy and brutal battle they had just fought, neither Jaron nor K appeared injured beyond a few minor scrapes and bruises. The crowd around them began to move and clear out, with everyone heading back up the hill toward the dining tent to catch a quick bite before returning home or to their duties.

  Jaron and K said their farewells to Tyran, then leapt to the top of the Pit to follow the exiting crowd. “K, Jaron,” yelled Citera as she and Dirik ran up to meet them. “That was so great, everyone will be talking about it for months!”

  “I am happy to know you found my defeat so entertaining,” Jaron laughed, rubbing the side of his face. “I think I will be feeling that punch for about that long anyways.”

  “Oh come now, don’t be such a big baby, you landed your fair share as well.” K frowned, looking up at him. “It just goes to show the both of us are severely out of practice, and if we are to face the Shadows, then the two of us need to spend more time training together.”

  Jaron winked at Citera. “She just wants to use me as her own personal punching bag because no one else wants to get back in the ring with her.”

  K hauled her fist back and hit Jaron hard on his shoulder.

  “Ouch,” Jaron laughed.

  Citera and Dirik both chuckled along with him, while K shook her head and focused on the path ahead. Together the four of them continued to follow the crowd up the hill in the direction of the Core. “I think your friends enjoyed the show, Jaron,” Citera said, as they weaved their way through the mass of people. “Especially the bout between the two of you.”

  “Friends?” K asked, glancing over at her. “What friends?”

  “You know the men that come to get the supply orders, the ones with the strange clothes.” As she answered, Citera watched out of the corner of her eye as Jaron closed his eyes tightly and dropped his head.

  “Wanderers?” K asked infuriated. “Wanderers are here, in this camp?”

  Citera, suddenly very aware she had made a huge mistake in bringing up the strangers, attempted to minimalize the damage. “I don’t know,” she answered calmly. “I don’t know who they are, probably just people from a nearby village. All I know is they bring all the important supplies we need, like formula and medicine, and they seem like nice enough people.”

  “Look, there they are,” Dirik shouted, completely oblivious to what was happening. He proudly pointed down the path to the trio waiting in the Core. They smiled and waved when they caught sight of Jaron heading their direction.

  K’s glare fell on the three of them in a look of unbridled hatred. “You brought Wanderers here?” she growled under her breath.

  “K, I had no choice. In the beginning we had no other means of getting the supplies we needed to survive. Jericho and his men helped me when we had no one else to turn to. If it wasn’t for them, none of this would have been possible.”

  “Have you lost your mind? You know their history,” K shouted loud enough to catch the attention of several people passing by. “They are nothing but a pack of thieves and swindlers who would sell their own mother for the right price.”

  “Oh, we’re not that bad,” one of the strangers stated, approaching with a confident stride. “I like my mother well enough, although I do have a mother-in-law I might be willing to part with for a reasonable price.”

  Jaron waved his hand for Jericho to be quiet, but it was too late. K turned on him in a blind rage and grabbed ahold of the man by his coat. “I would gladly wipe your entire race out of existence, but seeing as that has been deemed genocide by the Council, I will have to settle for your head instead.”

  Citera gasped and backed away, as did Dirik. Neither of them had seen K this angry since the clinic and, just like then, her black markings were beginning to show through the mask. All around them the entire Core ground to a halt. Everybody’s attention locked on K and Jericho. But K paid none of them any mind, her entire focus was on the Wanderer who she had lifted into the air with an impressive ease.

  Jericho, in contrast, remained astonishingly calm despite already witnessing what she was capable of doing back at the Pit. His companions, h
owever, were not so relaxed. The pair reached underneath their long coats, presumably to retrieve weapons. But Jericho waved them off. “We won’t be needing those, boys.”

  “K, stop this!” Jaron demanded. “You will put him down and respect the treaty I have made with them.”

  K dropped Jericho flat on his ass and turned her anger on Jaron. “What did you say to me?”

  “You heard exactly what I said.” Although he stood his ground, Citera could hear the uncertainty in Jaron’s tone. “You made me your advisor, now for once listen to my advice and trust them.”

  K moved forward until they were standing toe-to-toe with one another, the once glimmering hint of black marks now shining brightly. “You forget yourself, old friend,” she growled in a low voice. She turned her attention away from him to the growing crowd gathering to watch the drama unfold. “I will let you have this for the moment, but I assure you this discussion is not over.” And without further word she disappeared from sight.

  Jericho’s friends picked him up off the ground and he dusted himself off as he made his way toward Jaron. “Your girlfriend doesn’t care for me much.”

  Jaron’s eyes turned red and he shoved Jericho, sending him flying across the Core and crashing into the benches. “You stupid asshole, you were not due here for three more days! She would have been gone on a patrol detail then. Why do you think I always insisted on these specific dates? I was trying to keep this from happening!”

  Citera stood mouth gaped at the unexpected violence on the part of Jaron. Beside her, she could feel Dirik pulling on her shirt sleeve. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, “I think we should go.” She readily agreed and together they backed their way into the crowd then darted up the hill leaving Jaron and Jericho arguing behind them. Once they were a safe distance away they slowed to a walk and continued toward the eastern trail, neither wanting to bring up what had just happened.

  “I’m going to help my dad in the clinic,” Citera said quietly as they approached the place in the road where it forked. “I have a feeling Jaron won’t be able to today.”

  “No, I don’t suppose he will,” Dirik agreed. “I am going to the dining tent, Shena invited me to eat lunch with her and I think I will stay and help out the ladies there. It’s always nice listening to them telling stories and singing songs.”

  Citera smiled and nodded. “All right, but be careful Shena doesn’t get you trapped inside the food locker again, she might win her kiss this time.”

  “Ha, ha, ha,” Dirik said snidely, “You’re just jealous that you weren’t the one who managed to trap me and have me all to yourself.” And with that he stuck out his tongue and ran off.

  Citera returned the gesture and continued up the path, eventually arriving at the clinic. As per the norm, there was her father busy at work with Janil lending him a hand. It was unusually busy for this time of the day, but when she looked more closely, Citera realized that most of the patients were people who had participated in this morning’s events. Apparently a few of the exhibition competitors had been injured more severely than it had appeared.

  “Feel free to jump in whenever you’re ready,” Mikel called to his daughter as he raced from one patient to the next.

  Without further hesitation, Citera grabbed an apron and went to work. Together the three of them cleaned and covered cuts, wrapped broken bones and ribs, and applied ice packs to twisted and bruised joints. The day flew by fast and they worked into the early hours of the evening, and once the last patient had wandered out of the tent they all finally collapsed into chairs and took a breather.

  “I think we missed the evening meal,” Mikel said, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

  “It will be all right, we have bread, cheese, and maybe even a couple of eggs we can cook on the stove. If you want I can head up to the tent and get something ready for you and Janil to eat when you are finished up here,” Citera offered, leaning comfortably into the chair.

  “Don’t worry about me, dear,” Janil replied, smiling. “Gabriel told me he was bringing us both a plate back from dinner this evening so we could enjoy a meal together. Thank you though.”

  “Well, I will take you up on your offer,” Mikel said, standing to return to work. “We will finish straightening up and preparing for tomorrow, then I will meet you back at the tent.”

  Citera said her farewells and headed off toward their tent looking forward to a long night’s rest. She was halfway up the link path between the medical tent and housing area when she found herself strolling past the small trail that lead to Jaron’s tent. Remembering what had happened that morning in the Core, Citera was suddenly overwhelmed by an aching sensation that wrapped tightly around her middle—guilt.

  She stood for a moment staring down Jaron’s private path contemplating whether or not she should try to go and apologize to him. Chances were he wasn’t even down there, and if he was, he probably didn’t want to be disturbed. Jaron liked his privacy and preferred to be left alone, which was why his tent was located off the small trail in the middle of the forest. But she couldn’t get over the strange urge to go see him, and the more it festered in her mind the worse the knotting in her gut became. Unable to stand it any longer, Citera surrendered to the unrelenting desire and diverted down the path toward his tent. Perhaps it was just guilt over creating a rift between him and K, hopefully if she apologized the aching sensation would go away.

  She continued on down the dark and isolated trail, occasionally looking over her shoulder. She had the strangest feeling she wasn’t alone. But as she neared the tent, the sound of loud voices yelling at each other from inside quickly distracted her from her paranoia.

  “You dare tell me what to do,” K’s very angry voice caught her attention first. “Have you forgotten your place? Have you forgotten what your responsibilities are?”

  “No, I am more than familiar with my responsibilities and have done nothing that should make you think otherwise,” Jaron responded. Though she could tell by the sound of his voice that he too was more than angry about what had happened, somehow he was managing to keep his tone calm and in control.

  “Wanderers, you have allowed Wanderers to infiltrate this camp and run freely. Surely you of all people haven’t forgotten that it was with their aid we ended up here to begin with?”

  “Of course not, it was a Wanderer spy that led to Jarod’s capture as well,” Jaron sighed. “But that was a half century ago, K, and most of the ones that participated in that ploy have either died or are so old that death will soon be on them.”

  “A Wanderer is still a Wanderer, Jaron, you can’t trust them.” K’s angry voice sounded almost as if she was pleading with Jaron to understand. “You must find another way of getting the supplies, those people will lead to nothing but trouble.”

  “Can you for once just trust my decision? Don’t you think if there was any other way I would have found it by now?” Jaron’s voice began to rise. “I did the best I could with the resources I had and I have always done everything you have asked me to do without question, can’t you for once listen and trust what I am telling you?”

  Citera remained outside the tent, listening with a mixture of fear and intrigue. She knew she should leave, that if either of them caught her out here eavesdropping on their argument they would be furious. But she found herself fascinated by the conversation taking place and despite her better judgment, eased her way closer to the flap to listen as Jaron continued to make his argument.

  “I warned you about Gaia and the others, I told you they should not be trusted.” Jaron’s voice continued to grow louder and angrier with each word he said. “But you … you didn’t listen. As usual you asked my advice and then did whatever you wanted to do anyway. You turned them into the monsters that betrayed you and why? Because you wanted to be free to race across the border to him. Damn it, K, he treats you like crap and summons you to him like you’re nothing more than a-a …”

  “Say it!” K yelled.
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br />   “Whore,” Jaron snapped back.

  The moment the word left his lips, sounds of a struggle ensued. Citera placed her hand over her mouth to keep herself from making any sounds as she listened to various pieces of furniture being knocked over and broken inside the tent. Then the light crashed to the floor, engulfing the tent in darkness followed by a haunting silence. Citera remained frozen, unsure of what she had just witnessed. Had K killed him? Had she killed Jaron? With her heart pounding inside her chest, Citera remained motionless a few more moments, hoping for any sounds to come through the canvas walls letting her know that both of them were still inside and all right. But none came.

  Concern for Jaron quickly overwhelmed her fear and Citera slowly pulled open the flap of the tent and stepped inside. It was pitch black, the only lamp inside having been knocked over in the scuffle.

  “Jaron?” Citera called softly into the darkness. She wrapped her arms around her stomach tightly as anxiety made the knot in her gut worsen by the second.

  She had been in Jaron’s tent once before and remembered approximately where the lamp should be located. But it took her a few minutes of bumbling around in the darkness before she finally stumbled across it and turned the knob, relighting the entire inside of the tent.

  Glancing around, her heart skipped a beat as her eyes fell onto Jaron’s large frame lying motionless across the remnants of a broken table. She continued scanning every inch of the tent, and once she was confident K was nowhere around, Citera rushed to Jaron’s side.

  “Jaron, are you all right?” she asked, shaking his body in an attempt to rouse him.

  But no matter how hard she tried, he wouldn’t stir. Resigned to the fact that she wasn’t going to be able to awaken him, she instead concentrated her efforts on trying to adjust his large contorted frame into a more comfortable looking position. He was battered ten times worse than he had been after the exhibition match that morning. A busted eyebrow had covered the whole side of his face and head with blood, several dark bruises were beginning to appear across his face and when she lifted his shirt, Citera noted several more springing up on his torso as well.