Chosen Soldiers

by R. H. Scott

  Sloan cleared her throat—­here goes nothing. “I would request that for the duration of my time at the Academy, no student be Dismissed and that never again can a student be allowed to request another student’s Dismissal.”

  Romani narrowed his eyes at her. The great hall was completely silent, everyone unsure whose request was more serious—­Maya’s or Sloan’s. The Order was accustomed to granting trips to the woods, holiday time, extended training hours . . . they would not appreciate the magnitude of tonight’s requests. They certainly wouldn’t appreciate their senior students’ defiance or audacity. Moreover, they would not appreciate relinquishing control or being forced to abandon the role of executioner. The Order had always had the final say. And in the first two requests, they now faced being forced to kill or forced to refuse killing again.

  Finally, Romani forced his gaze away from her, turning to the boys. “Champion Captain Dawson, I imagine you have an equally unique request?”

  “I too, sir, would have Elijah Daniels Dismissed.” His voice was clear and confident and Sloan felt a striking pang in her chest. She’d still had hope that at the last minute, he would change his mind. But no—­it had happened; he had really done it.

  He had asked for another student to die.

  Romani tapped the table in front of him, studying his fluttering hand for a long moment before shifting his concentration to Elijah.

  “Captain Daniels, you have clearly not made many friends . . . Please, enlighten us as to what you may be requesting tonight?”

  Elijah shot an apologetic look to Sloan before speaking. “As the Order well knows, Sloan Radcliffe has been living under the misconception that she was solely matched to Jared Dawson in her Betrothal Calling. The truth of the matter is, she was also paired to me, a 98 percent match, and I request that should I win tonight, that pairing is honored, with Lieutenant Radcliffe relocating to my quarters immediately so that we may . . . catch up on lost time.”

  Sloan’s face was on fire. It was finally out there—­the whole Academy knew the truth. There was a moment of silence, followed by an outburst of noise: whispers, speculation, laughing, shocked gasps. She could feel every eye in the room trained on her; she felt heat rising in her neck. She gritted her teeth, locking eyes on General Stone, the only face she could bear to see.

  Romani stood, waving his hands slowly to quiet the room. “What a mess you three find yourselves in.”

  What a mess you put us in, you mean, Sloan thought. She had been humiliated enough by this man and his Order.

  Romani took a deep breath before speaking. “Very well. If you survive the night, Captain Daniels, your Winnings will be honored, as will any of yours,” he said, looking over the rest of them, “should you win.”

  It was clear, though, that Romani didn’t think Elijah stood a chance, not now that both senior fights had to be won in order for him to survive. Sloan took a deep breath and looked to Jared. His fists were shaking, a ticking flutter in his broad chest, his eyes trained downward—­he was furious. Sloan couldn’t believe the Order would acquiesce—­how could they let students gamble the lives of their peers?

  How could they just give me away like some crown? She couldn’t believe any of it—­hell, she couldn’t believe they accepted her request. Sloan sighed heavily, shaking out her shoulders. She needed to concentrate on her fight.

  A dark thought crossed her mind—­if she lost her fight Elijah would die and she would stay with Jared . . . That is not an option. She shook the thought away. She would rather lose a year with Jared than be responsible for an innocent boy’s death.

  Romani sat down slowly, a small smile creeping across his face. “Let Fight Night begin on your ready.”

  Sloan turned on Maya, who was pacing like a caged animal. Sloan flung her arms back and forth, stretching out. She let her instincts overcome her. The ­people in the stands blurred from her vision, the noise disappearing into muffled murmurs, nothing in her line of sight except for Maya.

  And then the adrenaline began to fill her. She honed in on Maya. “Scared yet?”

  Maya said nothing; her eyes darted around the ring . . . and then, she abruptly lunged. Sloan easily sidestepped, finding her natural rhythm. This was her playground—­Maya was out of her depth. The girl continued to spring at her, hands reaching for a grasp, but she wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t controlled enough. Sloan weaved around the girl, light on her toes. She glanced across the ropes to Elijah and Jared; they circled one another, mapping out their fight before engaging.

  Maya aimed a kick at Sloan, but she easily deflected, grabbing the girl’s ankle and kicking out her resting leg, causing Maya to land on her back. As the girl fell to the floor, Sloan landed an unforgiving kick on Maya’s ribs. Maya gasped under the strike, and Sloan kicked again—­the all too familiar crack sounding off. Ribs broken. She retreated, allowing Maya to get to her feet whenever ready. Sloan rested against the far ropes, flaunting her ease in this ring. Jared and Elijah were boxing, quick jabs, still not fully engaged in their fight.

  Maya got to her feet slowly, holding her side. Sloan resisted smiling as she eyed Maya up—­I promised you pain. Sloan leaped with deadly speed, landing a kick to the inside of Maya’s knee. The girl fell once again. Sloan circled her.

  “Come on, Woods—­you came for my championship. Is this all you’ve got?” Sloan mocked. Maya shot her an angry glare, lunging from her knees to grab at Sloan. Sloan sidestepped once more, slapping Maya quickly. She slapped her again, circling her, taunting her with quick hits.

  “Get up!” she ordered, walking away from Maya, willfully showing her back to the girl. “I said get up,” Sloan growled, eyeing the crowd. Half of them were cheering, half of them looking away in horror. Sloan hadn’t been hit once. She heard the scuffle of Maya finally getting to her feet. Sloan spun, falling to her knees and sliding across the floor, landing before Maya’s legs. With a violent thrust, she punched the inner side of the girl’s knee—­the one she had already done so much damage to—­with a force that dislocated the patella. Maya screamed, falling towards Sloan. In an instant, Sloan drove her palm up, connecting with Maya’s nose—­another break. Maya fell backwards.

  Ribs. Nose. Knee. The girl couldn’t walk—­she couldn’t fight. Sloan rolled away, getting to her feet.

  She once more leaned against the ropes, watching Jared and Elijah. Jared landed a roundhouse kick to Elijah’s ribs, a front kick to his chest, a vicious series of assaults. Elijah recovered quickly, though, rolling into Jared, back to back. Elijah reached up and clawed at Jared’s jaw, flipping his body over Elijah’s shoulder. As Jared landed on the floor, Elijah kicked at his broken ribs, and the snap of further breaking echoed. Jared rolled away, getting to his feet.

  She wanted to rush in. She wanted to stop their fight. She wanted to wring Elijah’s neck for hurting Jared—­it was her basic instinct to protect him . . . But she couldn’t. This had to happen.

  The frustration rose within her, and she looked back at her own opponent. Maya was trying to sit up—­she had an admirable persistence. Sloan sauntered over to her, kneeling beside her. She grabbed Maya’s throat, nailing her back down against the mat. “Tell me, are you afraid now?”

  Maya’s face was covered in blood, her eyes wide as she gargled for breath. She nodded, her bloodied face bobbing over Sloan’s tight grasp on her throat.

  “Do you think I might kill you?” Sloan pressed, squeezing tighter. Tears welled in Maya’s eyes. She reached for Sloan’s tightly clenched fist, but she didn’t have the strength to free herself. Sloan gripped harder.

  “Are you afraid to die?” Sloan’s words unintentionally came out a scream, a furious cry. Her words silenced the bloodthirsty crowds. She looked up to the Order. Stone was on his feet, Amelia Brass was covering her face, but Romani continued to smile.

  “You think it’s okay to ask for Elijah’s death when you are so afraid o
f dying?” She might have been speaking to Maya—­but she was directing the question to the Order.

  She looked down at the girl and leaned forward, putting all her weight into Maya’s throat. “The only two ­people in this entire damn place who can stop me are a little bit busy right now,” Sloan explained. “And the one who would stop me, the one who would care about saving you—­you just asked for him to be killed.”

  Maya’s eyes began to flutter back. She knew every person in the room was listening to her. Slowly, Maya’s hands fell helplessly away.

  Sloan was killing her. You’re not Jared, she thought. Let her go. With an angry hiss, Sloan recoiled, releasing Maya and backing away.

  She spun on the Order. “Do I have to kill her before you name your victor?” she screamed up to them. Romani looked down at her with narrow eyes—­no one yelled at the Order. What would they do to her—­she was their champion and they knew as well as she did that what she’d said before was true. There were two ­people in this entire Academy who could take her—­and they were fighting to the death in the next ring.

  “Sloan Radcliffe, you remain reigning champion . . . Your Winnings will be honored.” His voice was tight and words measured. Sloan looked to Stone, who offered her a slow solemn nod. He was afraid for her—­or afraid of her . . .

  She looked away, moving to the side of the ring to allow nurses from the Infirmary access to Maya. She remained on the ropes, watching Jared and Elijah’s fight escalate.

  Elijah landed a double kick. Jared lunged, an assault of quick-­fire punches. The silence she had brought to the crowd had disappeared—­the pairing of Elijah and Jared had them roaring.

  My words have already been lost on them . . .

  Jared flipped Elijah, striking at him on the ground. Elijah’s face was maimed; a mess of blood and sweat. The animal cries from the crowd spurred Jared on—­he was in his element too in this ring. Sloan had truly realized that Elijah had to win. Even if his winning ruined her life, broke her relationship with Jared and destroyed everything she had worked so hard for—­he needed to win. Losing her happiness was not the same as losing his life.

  But as Jared rallied on, she just wasn’t sure it was possible.

  She watched as Jared’s brutal onslaught continued. His muscles tensed with every rearing hit, sweat dripping down his body, blood streaking his face. Elijah flopped like a doll under each strike, and if he didn’t do something soon a Dismissal wouldn’t be necessary.

  “Elijah!”

  It took Sloan a moment to realize that it had been her terrified scream calling out his name. Somehow, over the cheers of the wild crowd, he had heard her—­his battered face rolled towards her. His dazed green eyes found her, blinking the blood away. He watched her for the longest moment and Sloan didn’t know what it was that he saw in her face, but it spurred him into action. With unbelievable speed, Elijah caught Jared’s fist before it connected.

  The crowd was on their feet, stomping, crying out, raising their fists into the air—­their emblem of prevailing. Elijah threw his legs up and dragged Jared off of him. The two rolled away from one another, getting to their feet. They circled, wiping blood off their faces. Jared lunged first, but Elijah grabbed his fist once more, turning it into an arm lock, bending it until Jared ­buckled. Forced down and hunched over, Elijah kneed him in the face. Jared staggered, allowing Elijah to grab him from behind and lock his arm around Jared’s neck. Sloan knew that was a mistake, though—­Jared was too strong to be choked down, too adept at grappling. In an instant, he had flipped Elijah over his shoulder.

  But Elijah was ready for the maneuver—­even as he flew over the other boy’s shoulder, he dragged Jared down with him, pulling his forearm into an arm-­bar lock. Jared was too good at grappling—­he rolled towards his arm, into Elijah, breaking free.

  They were on their feet in an instant.

  They squared off. Jared swung. Elijah blocked. He seemed revived, once more fighting for his life. He elbowed Jared in the face, landed a forward kick, and sent him flying into the ropes. Sloan felt her throat tighten—­she couldn’t watch the one she loved in so much pain and she couldn’t pull her eyes away.

  Elijah landed a succession of punches before grabbing hold of Jared’s arm, bending it back, pulling up at the elbow—­snap. Sloan’s bloodied hands flew to her face, watching in horror as the love of her life broke before her. Jared howled in agony and Sloan’s heart yearned for him, to save him, to hold him, to—­even though she knew what it could lead to—­hurt Elijah for him. Jared fell against the ropes; Elijah spun in the air and landed a kick against Jared’s wounded face.

  Jared hit the ground—­unconscious.

  He lost . . . and so have I.

  Sloan had rolled under the ropes, kneeling beside Jared, holding his face in her lap. He came to, gazing up at her with sadness. She stroked his face, wiping away his blood.

  “Elijah Daniels, you are the new champion. We honor your Winnings—­Sloan Radcliffe is now your betrothed.” Romani’s voice cut through her, and she could see them wash over Jared. She couldn’t look at the Order, she couldn’t hear the storming crowd of students cheer for their new champion. She leaned over, kissing Jared’s forehead.

  “I’m sorry,” she cried, resting her face against his. She didn’t care that the entire Academy was watching, and she didn’t care if they thought she now belonged to Elijah—­they were wrong; she loved Jared too much. She just wanted to take him home. She stroked his dark hair back and held him tightly. She assured him he was okay, that he wasn’t too badly hurt. She squeezed his hand against her chest, and was surprised when she heard his voice.

  “Sloan . . .”

  Her name fell from his mouth, a gargled whisper. The Infirmary nurses were crawling into the ring, preparing to take him away.

  “What is it?” she asked, leaning close to his beautiful broken face.

  “Get away from me.”

  His words were a slap. She let her hands fall from him. Before she could think or say another word, the medics had lifted him away from her. This wasn’t her fault—­she had begged him to find another way, to let her find another way, to be honest with her from the start, to not underestimate Elijah.

  She was devastated—­she was furious. She didn’t know how to feel. She watched them lead Jared out, then her eyes fell to the floor, where blood pooled around her. She glanced to Elijah, who stared at her hopefully, and she stood, turning away. Ducking under the ropes, she took a deep breath. She just wanted to go home.

  The problem is, I don’t know where that is anymore.

  CHAPTER 7

  All of her belongings were already there, in Elijah’s living quarters. Efficient in war, efficient in everything, she thought of the Academy. Her clothes in the white lacquer drawers, her shoes lined neatly by the bed . . . and her photograph—­the one of her and Tandy, which had been so safely tucked away—­now rested on Elijah’s bedside table. She gingerly lifted the photo and then slammed it facedown. She walked through to the bathroom and although Elijah’s living quarters were identical to her own, she found herself hesitant to move about.

  This was not her home.

  She flicked the light on and found her own appearance terrifying. A war-­mask of blood, streaks and freckles, sweat matting her hair, bright teary eyes. She looked down at her taped hands; they were crimson. This was not her blood. She turned from the mirror, resting on the brim of the tub. She fiddled with the taps until steaming hot water began to pour out.

  Returning her attention to her hands, she hesitantly began fingering the soggy tape. She had broken knuckles. She winced with each small tear, and with frustration began to rip the bindings off mercilessly. She stepped to the sink, tossing the bloodied dressings to the side, and ran her mangled hands under water. She watched the swirling pink pool and could see the fear in Maya’s eyes—­drowning in the loch of blood and wat
er. She used the heel of her hand to turn the tap off. She needed to get her clothes off . . .

  Slowly, she inched her sore fingertips under her sports bra, shuddering as her broken fingers strained to pull the garment off. The unforgiving pull of the armored material set her hands alight, and she bit into her lip as she stripped down naked. A small yelp escaped her as she tore her elastic tie out of her hair, the tight band snapping against her broken fingers. All that remained was the strip of leather she wore around her neck, with the small gold ring hanging from it. She couldn’t take it off—­it would hurt too much.

  Her breaths quickened. “Sloan Radcliffe is your betrothed . . .” Romani’s words tore through her. She had been gifted to Elijah. What better prize for the new champion than the reigning champion?

  She could see Jared’s desolate eyes—­a look that would forever be etched into her mind. “Get away from me.” She stepped into the scalding water, lowering her body slowly. Maya hadn’t touched her, yet Sloan couldn’t remember ever feeling more hurt.

  Flashes of the night, of her life, sped before her, tears drawing blood into the tub. She could see Maya’s fear, Jared’s anger and Elijah’s hopefulness . . . Romani’s glare. Tandy—­the day she came out of Review. Kenny—­with a hot gun and a cold smile. She felt as though she were drowning and launched herself out of the water.

  She stumbled towards the counter, wild and unnerved. Sweeping her arms out over the smooth surface, she sent soap and toiletries flying. She pulled her broken fingers into a fist and beat at the mirror, shattering it, making herself disappear. She fell to the ground and slammed her hands against the cold linoleum. She wanted to hit something—­hit everything—­she wanted to see something as broken as herself. She wailed in pain, but she could no longer feel her hands. Tears coursed down her cheeks; shudders ran through her bare skin. She bit into her forearm as she screamed—­muffling her own agony. The weight of her pain snapped something in her body and she twisted into a ball, sobbing.