by Archer Swift
Chapter 42
“Uhh … urhh,” I heard Matthew clear his throat even as Sarah’s sobbing continued. “What Sarah was saying is that while we don’t know all the details, we bought into Dylain’s lies. And even though many of you might not have demanded Ristan’s death—shame on those who did!—we are all guilty; some for action, others for inaction. Of the latter, as a Mzee, I am a chief offender.” I heard him work hard to keep his voice measured. “Ristan, please can you forgive us? It appears you were actually trying to stop Dylain’s mutiny. Ristan … Ristan, can you please come forward? We wronged you publicly. We need to make this right in public.”
I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. I wanted to shout and scream and rant and rave, to remind him that we didn’t have time for this; we had to find a way to escape the arena, to survive the Sabres. And I wanted justice for Jordin, and the others who had been trampled to death.
Most of all, I wanted to reverse time somehow and save Scott. Do whatever I did yesterday differently … anything to bring him back. Oh, Scott … sorry! I felt paralysed by a barrage of emotion that pummelled my soul; however, Scott’s kind face remained ever before me, emblazoned in my mind’s eye.
I felt two men pick me up to my feet, and lead me to the front. I wanted to fight them off, kick them away, but I felt completely weak. Riddled with emotion, void of strength. I just about couldn’t sludge one foot in front of the other.
Please stop.
It was only when we halted in front of those assembled that I realised both Judd on my left and Dixan on my right were bawling like babies. I now heard the gut-wrenched mutterings they were trying hard to express.
“Rist, I’m so sorry.”
“Forgive me, bro.”
Stop, please stop. Just please…
Sarah then flung her arms around me. “Rist,” she wailed, grief and tears punctuating her dark-brown eyes. “I let you down. I just stood by while you were ... you were…”
I didn’t hear the rest of what she said. It seemed as though everybody was asking for my forgiveness. All at once. A hundred requests, a cacophony of lament. Without question, all stricken with grief over Scott’s pointless death. A requiem for the dead—charged no doubt by our own demise close at hand. Their sorrow, bundled with remorse, projected my way. The emotion of the moment overwhelming; I felt so awkward, uncomfortable. Giddy on my feet. Sick in my gut.
“Please stop,” I found my voice. “Please … it’s okay; it’s over. We’ve got a bigger issue to deal with.” Still the bemoaning continued. “Stop! Please stop!” I said; the vigour in my voice surprised even me. Slowly, the dirge came to a gradual end in response.
“I forgive you,” I said in a sharper tone than I meant. “I never held it against you. You weren’t aware of all the facts, and Dylain misled you.” I felt more in control of my tone now. “You acted on the information you were given. I don’t blame you … I understand. I was privy to more information, a bigger picture, and I acted on it.”
“Ristan,” said Matthew, his pale blue eyes soft as he ran his hand through his thin, wispy hair, “thank you for your forgiveness. You may be right, but we were wrong. Horribly wrong. We needed to ask you for your forgiveness, and I for one cannot express my gratitude for it enough.” He shook his head in remorse; his face locked in a grimace as he scratched the stubble on his chin. “Not only did we let you down, but we let ourselves down. We might die in this arena today, but without your forgiveness, we already died in our Gathering Place earlier.”
Sarah pulled herself together shakily. “Ristan … please forgive me.” Her dark-skinned cheeks glistened with the tears she’d shed. “I am so ashamed…”
“Erm, yes, Sarah. I for … I do,” I said tongue-tied, the scrutiny too much.
“Rist,” said Judd, standing on my right. “I’m … I’m…” he tripped over his words. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“Then it wouldn’t be forgiveness.” The words gushed out; overrun with emotion, I threw my arms around him. His body shook as I said, “It’s okay, my friend.”
“I dropped you so badly,” he said, chunking on my shoulder.
I grimaced. “No, you didn’t. We both made decisions on the facts we had; that’s all.”
“I swear, I didn’t know they were going to kill Scott. I didn’t…” he wailed quietly in my ear. I hadn’t thought about how much Judd knew or didn’t, but he was utterly distraught. “I thought I could stop the mutiny as the inside man and … and I had no idea they planned to kill you. Geez, I got played. I bit off more than I could chew.”
I exhaled slowly. “It’s over now.”
“Ristan, pal...”
I heard Ruzzell’s voice, and I caught my breath and felt Judd freeze. I turned around and looked up into his black and blue face. “I’m sorry, man. I just wanted to say sorry,” he said, towering over me, yet unable to look me in the eye; his swollen face, a ghastly reminder of our skirmish earlier.
“It’s okay, pal. This is a new day,” I felt myself bristle. “We get to square off against a few Sabres in the City of Zika.” I bit my tongue.
Geez! Was there jest in my response, at a time like this?
Ruzzell’s face remained expressionless, and his cold eyes trawled the ground. I wasn’t sure whether his apology was sincere; maybe it was just a show for the Mzees. But what would he gain from that given our fate? Can a man with a dark heart really change? I didn’t think so.
I expected to face Cainn or Shawz next in a protracted awkward standoff when I felt arms thrown around me, and I caught the scent of her body, felt the touch of her hands. Gellica. I hadn’t seen her since our embrace. Tension drained from my body immediately; I held on to her tightly, never wanting to let go.
“Move back,” said Judd, “give them some space.” I felt everyone retreat in response.
“Rist, you were—”
“Shhh,” I put my finger to her lips. “Let me just, er, look at you.”
She was beautiful. In spite of the dust, and the tears and the strain, she was radiant. I wished I could look into her mesmerising hazel-brown eyes forever. I would have given anything to prolong that moment. “Gellica—” I started.
“Gels!” She smiled, and the hair on my neck stood to attention. Heady, I swirled with elation—there was no end in sight to this emotional roller coaster I was strapped to.
“Gels,” I said her name carefully for the first time and then exhaled slowly. “Things, um, don’t look so good, I realise, but whatever happens; I want you to know…”—lightheaded, my heart caught in my throat—“…I love you.”
Her smile widened, and her eyes shone. “I love you, Rist. I always have.”
I lent my head forward; she closed her eyes. I held back for a second to gaze upon her, and as my heartbeat quickened, our lips touched gently. Her mouth fitted to mine. For a thrilling moment, everything was fine. We weren’t in a dusty arena about to be devoured by Xakanic’s beasts.
“You’re beautiful, Gels,” I said leaning back, feeling the blood in my cheeks. Up close, her skin was smooth, perfect; her eyes, soft and shimmering. A heavy sigh escaped my lips. “I want to survive this day. I want to show you tomorrow’s dawn,” my voice was thick, and I couldn’t steady it, “and the next, and the one after that…”
Gellica held her smile but her eyes welled up with tears, accompanied by a poignant sadness that accepted the harsh reality of our dust-bowl fate. That we wouldn’t make it out of this ordeal; that we wouldn’t see tomorrow’s dawn. That we would die in this arena and have no tomorrows at all. She was right, of course, but still, it stabbed at my core. As I gently wiped away a tear that streaked down her cheek with my thumb, my resolve mustered.
I want to live. I want a lifetime of tomorrows.
I hugged her tightly, and holding her in my arms; I cast my eyes around the vast, empty stadium. And in that watershed moment, an unexpected sign dawned to kindle my newfound grit. What caught my attention were the Zikalic guards who had been observin
g us the entire time, stone-faced as always. Having dragged us in, at least fifty had moved to the edge of the arena floor to keep watch over us. They were positioned all around the circumference of the arena, but this time; they were markedly different.
Their eyes.
I had seen the unmistakable glint of electric blue in their eyes.
And their eyes didn’t lie.
They were moved.
It was indisputable; they were touched by the naked display of emotion among us on the dusty arena floor.
