Savage Lands

by Stacey Marie Brown

  I had learned at an early age to pick your battles. Know when to stand up and when it was smart to bend—because bending kept you from breaking.

  I remained stumped at her decision to cover for me. I had been taught fae weren’t nice simply to be nice. Kindness for humans was not in their nature, so her actions didn’t settle well with me. I couldn’t stop wondering what she was up to. Though Lynx seemed so innocent, not some deceptive manipulator. If anyone was out of water here, it was her. But weren’t those always the ones to be careful of?

  Lynx’s lips rolled together, appearing like she was going to turn away from me, but instead she gave me a slight nod before returning her attention to her group. It was all I needed.

  Forgiveness or maybe understanding. She must not entirely blame me, which was more of a relief than I expected.

  I let out a gust of air I didn’t know I was holding and headed to my table with a half scoop of oatmeal and a mug of lukewarm coffee. Eyes fixed on me from every direction, watching the soon-to-be-dead human, the Games ticking down the minutes of my life, a clock hanging above my head. But only one pair of eyes sliced through all the curiosity, burrowing into me as if he projected himself right next to me, taunting me to turn and look at him. A sensation fluttered inside me like living bugs, and the need to peer back at him clawed at the back of my head. The impulse was so powerful my flesh broke out in shivers, my jaw locking together.

  Don’t look, Brex. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

  With every step, the need grew stronger, the sense of his presence right next to me. My eyes watered as I resisted, swimming upstream against the current. Finally making it to my table, I sat across from Tad, purposely putting my back to the enigmatic man across the room. Was it completely my imagination, or was he stalking me without even moving? I had no idea what piqued his interest, if it was anything besides boredom, but I couldn’t deny an acute awareness of him, like a ghost rubbing up against me. The impression of him right next to me.

  Tad snorted into his coffee cup, shaking his head.

  “What?” I grumbled.

  “A simple pebble can cause a tsunami.”

  “Are you taking your meds, old man?” I shoveled the oatmeal into my mouth, not even letting it settle on my tongue before swallowing. “And why aren’t you sharing them?”

  “You,” he said, setting down his cup with a clink next to his toast, “weren’t supposed to get on the list.”

  “Like I asked to be.” I stabbed my spoon into the watery oats, sourness filling my stomach at the truth. I was going to die soon. And from what I’d seen at the Blooding…in a very painful, horrific way.

  “Is there any way to get off it? Scrubbing toilets? Good behavior?”

  “No.” Tad tapped his fingers against the mug. “Once you’re on it, it’s final.”

  And final meant final.

  “How many come before me? I mean, I have a while. Lots of people are on the list before me, right?” I gestured around, trying to swallow, fear closing in my throat.

  “They go to a lottery system when they run out of marked people, which would have happened tonight for the Blooding tomorrow,” Tad spoke softly, making every word feel like a boulder. “Rodriguez killed the last one on the list.”

  My nose sucked in a violent swig of air. “Which means?”

  “You just got bumped to the top,” he replied. “You will fight tomorrow night.”

  He said fight, but I knew what he actually meant.

  You will die tomorrow night.

  Chapter 18

  The vibration of stomping feet, the blistering chants, and screams of the crowd raked down my nerves, squeezing my lungs in a death grip. The sharp smell of blood, sweat, urine, excitement, and utter terror lashed up my nose and coated my tongue.

  “Fight! Fight!” The death chant echoed through the dark tunnel I was in, pounding against the sound of my heartbeat. Peering down, I watched my chest heaving for air as though my heart wanted to break through my ribs and save itself.

  “It’s time, 85221.” A guard walked past me, heading to the locked gate where I waited.

  Terror I couldn’t even fathom rattled my bones, separating me from my body, protecting me from fully understanding the truth. I wasn’t even aware of how violently I was shaking until I peered down at my figure. My muscles twitched and rattled as if they pulled me out of ice while sweat pooled in my palms and down my back, ripping all the moisture from my mouth.

  “They’ll have someone more your level for the first fight,” Opie had told me the night before. Somehow knowing I would not be able to sleep, he and Bitzy sat with me all night, keeping me company.

  “The human man Rodriguez killed wasn’t his level,” I quipped.

  “Trying to make you feel better, fishy. Stop ruining my ‘this could be worse, brighter side’ crap.” He stomped his foot.

  Chirp! Bitzy snarled at me, flipping her finger.

  “Fine. Sorry.” I motioned to him. “Go on.”

  “Thank you.” He dipped his head theatrically, cleared his throat, then paused, screwing his face into a frown. “Yeah, I got nothing. You’re screwed.”

  Laughter burst out of me. I needed a break from the fear and tension, and Opie and Bitzy’s company helped me through the night without losing my mind, even letting me drift off for a moment.

  That small comfort felt at least centuries ago now.

  The pounding of feet in the stands drumming along with my pulse brought the harsh reality of what was going to happen to me. And how my death would have them cheering and clapping, then they wake up tomorrow and go on, just the same as usual. Nothing different to them.

  Were these my final moments? Was this how my story ended? It seemed cruel and unnecessary that I lived through all of what I did just to die this way.

  The healer’s words returned to me with painful accuracy. “Human, you will wish I let you. Where you are headed, death would have been a blessing. You aren’t going to last a week, but every second, you are going to wish I took pity on you and let you die.”

  The harsh grating of the gate opening sounded through the arena. I could hear the mob’s excited shrill in my ears as they clamored for someone’s blood to make them feel more alive in this death hole.

  “Are you ready?” The guard spoke softly. “They just picked the lotto number of the prisoner fighting you.” I was the warmup act. I didn’t even qualify to fight other winners.

  My teeth dug into my bottom lip, a wisp of a whimper clotting my throat as I stepped forward.

  “Give them glory in your death or in your killing.” The guard’s sentiment halted me for a moment, my gaze snapping to the fae. For the first time, I really noticed him.

  The horse-shifter, Zander, stood there, his chocolate brown eyes staring into mine. “Let their energy and your fear feed you, not starve you.” His gaze remained intensely on me. Meaningful. “Use your head, find weapons in anything. Be the one who prevails.”

  The breath of kindness was a shot of adrenaline, filling me with strength and focus.

  I nodded, silently thanking him for his words. Inhaling, I rolled my shoulders back and walked out of the tunnel into the area, light and noise crashing down on me.

  Use it.

  Take it.

  Don’t let it take from you.

  The figures in the stands blurred into a mass of waving arms and muted colors due to their uniforms. For a moment, it was only me standing like a drop of water in a desert full of thirsty savages.

  The slamming of metal jerked my head to the tunnel across from me where a person stepped out. Today’s lottery pick. My gaze snapped to the figure, recognition registering in my brain.

  Blinking, I took in her short, stocky figure and pinched face.

  Mio.

  A sneer lifted her lips, showing off yellowish teeth and a missing incisor in her open mouth. “Come on, fishy,” she taunted as she moved closer, as if she forgot I had recently kicked her ass.

  It was be
tter to overinflate your opponent’s skills than underestimate them. That was another trick of mine, while many of the male recruits tended to do the opposite. I was good. Top in my class, because I always went in at 100%, believing they could outmaneuver me this time. Plus, I was really good at being sneaky and fast.

  The only certain thing today was just one of us would be walking out of here.

  She swiped out for me, her knuckles brushing my chin as I twirled away, the throng of people crooning at our first contact. Mio was a lot faster than she looked, her movements precise and controlled. She was much better than Tess or Dee, and by her actions, I could tell martial arts was something she was very familiar with.

  The two of us circled each other, adrenaline from the crowd dancing over my skin, pumping into my veins. Mio shuffled forward, her jaw set, her leg kicking out at me, which I easily dodged. The crowd disliked our feeble attempts.

  “Kill. Kill. Kill!”

  “Blood. Blood. Blood!”

  I twisted, using the angle to make my first strike, my knuckles cracking into her ribs. She stumbled back, and the crowd cheered with excitement, happy the fight was finally in motion.

  Mio’s short frame darted at me, her hand striking across my cheek, pain exploding through my face. My eye felt like it wanted to pop out of my head. She took advantage of my moment of hesitation and slammed her fist into my upper lip and nose, cracking the cartilage in my nostrils, bursting my blood vessels. Blood poured out, sliding down my mouth. Before I could right myself, she kicked me in the stomach, tossing me back onto the dirt with a groan.

  “Mio! Mio!” the crowd sang, bets passing between hands.

  Leaping for me on the ground, she staggered when I rolled to the side, missing me. Jumping up, I spun, dropping my elbow into her vertebrae. She howled, her back arching at the impact, but she kept on her feet, her arm whacking my already bleeding cheek.

  I tottered back, feeling rage climb up my throat and wrap around my muscles. I was better than this. I could drop trained soldiers to the floor.

  Mio came for me as my leg swept in a roundhouse kick, hurtling into her gut. She hit the dirt with a thud. Stomping up, my feelings shut off. I kicked her in the ribs with an audible crack, forcing a cry to volley from her lips.

  The part of me that didn’t want to kill anyone was smothered in pure adrenaline and survival instinct; it was kill or be killed. I did not want to die—not tonight.

  A guttural cry tore from her as she shoved against my onslaught, crawling away from me, her hand wrapping around a post stuck in the ground like Excalibur. With all the strength she could muster, she heaved it out of its hold, twirling it in her hands while limping back for me, blood trailing down her face. She was a lot stronger and more formidable than she appeared.

  She dug her boot into the dirt, kicking up debris in my face.

  “Ahh…” My hands went to my burning eyes, giving her time and free rein.

  With a war cry, she plunged the stick toward me. Lurching back, I had no time to clear the spear entirely. Pain exploded in my thigh as the spiked wood sank into my leg, ripping through skin and nerves. I heard a howl echo off the walls, sure it was mine, but I no longer felt attached to my body.

  Everything went in slow motion, as though I could watch each drop of my blood slowly hit the dirt, wetting the earth with my essence. A buzzing sensation rolled over me like I was being given more energy while numbing me of the agony freezing my limbs.

  My gaze lifted to hers, my nose wrinkling in a snarl.

  I turned feral and plucked the stick from my leg, huffing and snarling. Whatever she saw in me, she must have known something had changed as well. Her eyes widened as if she’d seen a monster crawl out of a cave.

  Darting to the side in a blink, I whipped around her, causing her to glance about. That was what I strived for. To move so smoothly and fast, they lost track of me.

  Slipping in, I rammed my fist into her throat with all my weight. With a garbled choke, she grabbed her neck, curling over, her mouth open, gulping for air. Swinging the stick at the back of her knees, whacking her off her feet, she thudded to the ground, the impact snatching what was left of her air.

  All strength seemed to flee her body while mine buzzed with life.

  I stood over her, staring down at her. Inhaling sharply, her throat bobbed as blood streamed down her face, her dark eyes locked on me.

  Defiant.

  Proud.

  She didn’t say anything, accepting her death as she watched me twirl the stick in my hand, still dripping with my blood. The crowd screamed and chanted for me to finish it. I knew there was no other way. One of us lived, and one of us died. That was the game.

  Looking her in the eyes, I gave her the respect she deserved in the end. My arm went up; the broken staff she almost killed me with was her end. Acid swished in my stomach, shooting up my throat like lava, but I knew there was no stopping now.

  With a grunt, I drew it down with all the strength I had left, the point spearing through her throat. It made a sick sound of flesh tearing, cartilage snapping as blood spurted out and sprayed my face. She gasped, choking on her own blood, air funneling out of the hole in her throat, spewing up red liquid like a blowhole. She fought for air for a while before her body went stiff. Then life abandoned her in one violent spasm, her figure going limp.

  I heard nothing but the sound of my own breath. My mind pulled back from the harshness of what I had just done, the spear stuck in her throat, piercing the ground. Adrenaline soared through my muscles, shaking me with excessive energy.

  I had killed her. Brutally.

  But I was alive. I survived.

  Wiping the blood from my face with my arm, I stepped back, my sight catching the jarring movement in the crowd before my ears finally synced with it. Bursting me from my bubble and crashing me back to Earth.

  “Fish!”

  “Piranha!” another yelled out over the rest.

  “Piranha! Piranha! Piranha!” The mass chanted, jumping up and down, their fists in the air rocking back and forth with their mantra.

  I scanned the haze of people in a daze, sinking under the overwhelming energy of the crowd, drowning in their lust for blood.

  I felt a subtle tug in my gut—a flutter, drawing my gaze to the side. Eyes seemed to glow like beacons in the darkness, grabbing on to me, yanking me back up, filling my lungs with air. I jolted as our gazes collided.

  Warwick sat in his usual place, leaning back and angled to one side, his hand propped underneath his chin like he was watching a dull movie, but his gaze was sharp, burning into me.

  My lids shut briefly, and I swallowed against the feeling that he stood right in front of me, his aura circling, touching me.

  “Glorious.” I twisted around toward the voice behind me. Zander stood there with his expression blank, but his eyes were twinkling. “Your stomach is full. You took.” A smile hinted on his face. “You prevailed.”

  “I prevailed.”

  “Good.” He moved past me to Mio’s body. I watched him for a second before my gaze snapped back up the king’s spot in the stands.

  Empty.

  Leaving me feeling as if I had imagined the whole thing.

  Strolling out of the arena, covered in blood, the cries of my new moniker against my back, I slipped down the dark tunnel away from the exhibition.

  Mio’s death revealed one thing to the masses.

  This fish had become a piranha.

  The guards escorted me to a healer for my leg wound, who cleaned it and gave me medicine before I headed to the showers where a fresh uniform waited for me—a perk for winning.

  Under the spray of water, blood swirled pink around my feet, slipping toward the drain. The blood churned, Mio’s and mine together, before disappearing. My arms shook as I pressed my palms to the tile, trying to keep myself up, the ringing in my ears and buzz of adrenaline receding dramatically.

  My body responded fully to the night’s events, falling from the high,
but my mind was still numb to the fact I murdered Mio. It was for survival. It could easily be her bleeding in this shower instead of me, but the idea of killing a fellow human to entertain crowds coiled my heart and stomach in disgust.

  “Two minutes!” A guard yelled at me, the same one who retrieved me from the hole. Scar Lip, I called him in my head. He seemed particularly fond of the shower shift. “Come on, fishy.” He leered at me. “Need help getting dressed this time?”

  Wrapping myself with my towel, I strolled assertively over to him, staring up without a hint of fear. He sucked in at my proximity, still trying to keep the smirk on his face. His eyes tracked down my figure, the water dripping and sliding over my bruised and broken skin.

  “Piranha,” I said, leaning closer. “And you ever touch me again, I will tear the flesh from your bones and use them to pick your remains from my teeth.”

  He blinked, shocked at my words, but quickly shoved it away, pressing in closer to me. “You think because you killed one weak human, you’re invincible now?” His eyes ran down me again. “I could do anything I wanted to you right now, and not only could you not stop me, no one else would either.”

  “Your deep insecurity about your manhood is showing,” I replied, ignoring the cold fear his words set in my bones. He was probably right about no one helping, but I would never show him he could break me. “Guess it’s not just a human male trait.” Comparing a fae to a human was a great insult. The fae believed themselves so far above such follies, but the longer the worlds mixed, the more each took on attributes of the other.

  “You bitch,” he seethed, lurching for me. My fist rammed into his Adam’s apple, his body stumbling back as he clawed at his windpipe.

  “Tsk. Tsk.” I clicked my tongue. “You know the rules. You can’t touch me.” It was something Tad told me. Once you were in the Games, no guard could rough you up. They wanted their fighters to be at their prime to put on the best show.