Ravenous (Taint of the Gods #1)

13. RIEKA

13

RIEKA

T he Fight Hall as Rhydian had called it was the same carriage where the party had been held last night. The very same carriage I had arrived in three nights ago.

The doors were flush to the wall when I entered so I was able to finally gauge the full scope of the carriage. With vaulted ceilings and polished timber walls, the compartment looked reminiscent of a ballroom. Empty benches lined the walls, whilst thick rectangular mats separated the room into thirds. From the ceiling hung four chandeliers, not a single one matching another, as though someone had attempted to repair them over and over again. Loud thuds and shouts echoed off the walls.

A group of passengers were gathered in the centre of the carriage. I didn’t particularly want to immerse myself in the stench of that crowd. It was awash with the aroma of lust, and greed, and the unmistakable scent of aggression. Thankfully I found scents I could tolerate. Seafoam and hemp, that was S’vara, and the cedar oil and jarsa spice was Farox right beside her. Though without my senses I wouldn’t have recognised him. He had manifested his Drake metamorphic state and was now covered head to toe in scales. As he turned his head to greet me, the second eyelid accustomed to his breed of Apex blinking across his yellow slit pupils, the scales shone a dark iridescent green. And sprouting out from his thick black waves, curving back over his head was a pair of grey horns, signifying Farox as one of the most dangerous of Drake breeds.

With S’vara’s help, my fellow she-wolf having caught my scent, I managed to pierce the crowd and wedge myself between them in the crowd where they had formed a ring around two figures.

They were vastly different in size and shape, the darker-haired one was tall and fair and collared with thin sinuous muscle that reminded me of a skinned hare.

I suppressed the instinct to send that image to the one no longer there to receive it.

A quick short inhale refocused me. The second fighter was blond and much broader than the other man, with thick arms that strained the shirt on his back. He, unlike his sun-deprived opponent, had skin that had not too long ago been kissed by the sun. The golden tinge upon his arms and neck was a stark contrast to many passengers.

The tall one charged at his opponent. And the blond in defence sent him flying over his shoulder with a loud smack. Sweat beaded down his cheek. He turned as he wiped it and locked eyes with me.

Rhydian.

“You’re late.”

I refused to reply.

Rhydian helped his opponent stand. They spoke using one of those hand gestures and then the dark one, clutching his side, made to join the crowd, whilst he moved to the centre of the ring.

“Since my wife was late I’ll cut the speech short. Those of you who arrived here three days ago, if you’re lucky you’ll live a year.”

“What are you doing?” His words had caused an instant reaction in my bunkmates, all of whom I realised were amongst the crowd. Their heart rates spiked.

Rhydian met my gaze. “I’m making sure you survive.”

He began pacing around the circle. “The Venerable Council of Kensilla, our prick benefactors don’t care who you were before they collared you, and they don’t care what you do whilst you’re here. They care about only one thing. The Hunt. A regular event that they broadcast to the nation for their citizens’ entertainment, and to ensure their slaves’ continued obedience. Sometime in the next few weeks each of you will be selected to participate. It is my job to see to it that you survive.”

“Does everyone have to participate?” It was a woman who spoke, the same one who had asked Hentirion how we could get off the train that first night. She stood with her death train companion behind Rhydian.

“Collared passengers over the age of sixteen have to run in The Hunt,” he answered.

“I’m not yet fifteen,” came Tira’s meek voice.

Murmurs spread throughout the crowd, pity spreading like a spider’s web amongst the passengers, all flooding towards the young Terrestrial with the sundered antlers.

Rhydian’s inner voice reached out to me. “Is that true?”

All I could do was nod in response. Tira’s age had been why our group had been so attentive to her, why we’d been strict with the alcohol at the party. But we never expected this.

Rhydian seemed to take in a deep breath before continuing to speak “You’re from the Enibon Islands?”

Tira nodded. “The Deni’Henpina Commune.”

His expression remained stern. “I know of them. Their herds are fast. The Hunters are not. If you can outrun them, then you’ll survive longer than most.”

But he didn’t say she’d survive.

“Those of us without collars are Runners. When a Hunt is drawn, we choose to do everything in our power to get you back on the train.”

“You voluntarily run in these Hunts, why?” Hentirion asked

A tall collarless man with sandy brown curls spoke up. “Would you leave your family if you knew your presence could keep them alive another day?” Rhydian and the man exchanged a look before he continued.

“The Hunters are human. Don’t be afraid to kill them if you find an opportunity. They will certainly not hesitate to kill you. The Core rewards those loyal enough to cull members of The Quarry.”

Farox leaned towards me. “Quarry?” he asked.

“Us,” S’vara responded bitterly.

Quarry. Such an animalistic word, as though were we something to be pursued and rounded up.

Rhydian finished his speech by emphasising that if we wanted to survive, then turning up at training every morning would be the best path to survival.

“I think they’ve gathered how shitty their situation is, Rhydian.” The tall woman I’d seen with Rhydian last night stepped out of the crowd. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her expression board. “Now can we get to the training? Some of us have to work today.”

The long rich brown tresses which had been out when we’d first met were braided down her scalp and tucked back up into her hair, a style many of the female passengers in the crowd wore. Their clothes were also of a similar nature—form-fitting tops and trousers with heavy boots.

Rhydian opened his mouth to speak then paused, his gaze falling upon me. “The ring is yours Eleen. Pick your partner.”

Eleen did just that, calling out to someone called Mal as she took up a position in the centre of the ring. There was no mat here, just a hardwood floor. Not exactly the ideal surface for fight training.

Mal was a six-foot-three fully manifested Bear-Blessed male, with arms the size of tree trunks and sporting a brown fur coat. Yet as he entered the ring his predatory features transformed back into his human ones. This version of the man was no taller than six-foot-one, had green eyes and a thick brown beard.

I leaned into Farox. “Why would he do that, surely it would be safer to fight in his Brute state?”

“Fight rules,” Farox said, his eyes trained on every movement of the much larger Brute. “No taints are permitted in the ring.”

“Isn’t it counterproductive to have us train without our blessings? Surely Blessed have the advantage against these human Hunters.”

If not an advantage over one another. What Brute could win in a fight against someone who could burn the flesh from their bones? Who could win against a Pneumatic who could make the air around you as strong as a boulder and crush you under that weight?

“The hunters create traps using Toxicant vapour to inhibit their prey before they kill them. I’m teaching you to use what’s left. Even the playing field.”

I glared over at my "husband" who had somehow managed to overhear my conversation. He wasn’t even looking at me. His entire attention was on Eleen.

“Something about Hunters having methods to prevent us from using our taints. Only physical assaults are possible,” Farox added, the membranous skin along his jaw stretching as he flexed it. I could only imagine what assaults a Drake of his characteristics could achieve. A jaw that could stretch wide enough that it was capable of biting a man’s face off whole.

Eleen and Mal made a Seja gesture towards one another, touching two fingers to the centre of their foreheads before pulling them away about an inch.

The moment they both dropped their hands, Eleen rushed the larger man and was atop his back in a matter of seconds, having jumped at him and swung her legs around his body.

She was nimble for her tall height. And fast. She appeared to have caught the Brute off guard. But only for a moment. He twisted and caught her in a big-armed grip. Just when it looked as though the match would be over, Eleen bit him. The scent of blood sent the room stiff. At least ten Brutes took a step back from the ring, their faces contorting as they tried to control their blessings. Mal dropped Eleen like a sack of potatoes. She took that opportunity to then kick out his leg, the ground reverberating when he hit the floor. Like a tree cut down in the woods.

This continued for several minutes, one or the other gaining the upper hand, Eleen with her swiftness and Mal, his brute strength. Rhydian circled the two the entire time, occasionally walking over to one of the other collarless in the crowd to whisper something. I eavesdropped the first few times, my curiosity getting the better of me, but after the fifth comment spoken in Seja, his native tongue, I realised I would gain nothing from those conversations. So I returned my attention to the fight.

“Your husband seems to be showing Eleen an awful lot of attention.” S’vara’s eyes were fixated on Rhydian as she spoke.

“Should they not be? He is teaching a defence class?” He was awfully focused on her.

Farox, who had spent the last few minutes of the fight eye fucking the only other female Drake in the crowd, spoke up. “I heard she used to sleep in his bunk.”

“We’ve been aboard four days. How did you hear that?” S’vara asked incredulously.

He smirked, revealing a row of sharp teeth. “I, unlike you two wolves, enjoy The Bathhouse .”

A loud smack and strangled grunt brought our attention back to the ring where the Bear-Blessed Mal had Eleen pinned beneath him, a hand around her throat.

Rhydian called the match to an end and rushed over to Eleen where he offered her his hand. My "husband" certainly was thorough in checking her for injuries. A little too attentive. Perhaps Rhydian had a thing for damsels who needed saving. It wasn’t my favourite facade but it was the easiest to sustain long term. And I had six months to endure this man before my life was forfeited.

I can't jump to conclusions, I need more information. I found his mind and asked bluntly, “Were you and Eleen lovers?”

Rhydian’s hand paused on the beautiful brunette’s arm. “No wonder she was pissed at you for springing a wife on her,” I added.

Rhydian kept his hand on Eleen as his inner voice responded. “ You sound jealous.”

“Why should I be jealous, you declared your love for me to the entire train, husband.”

“How could I forget .” Rhydian then turned from her and looked at me with those damning blue eyes. “Next up, Eleen and Rieka.”

He smiled. It was irritatingly confident.