Chapter 28
DON’T THROW A PUNCH WHEN THE FIGHT IS OVER
“I cannot submit your eligibility for that fight, miledi.”
“Why not?” Stacia insisted. “What difference does it make who I fight?”
“Because even if I did not care about my reputation or have pride in my work, I do not throw away lives without thought. I am to fructify—to make fruitful my choices.” He thumped his palm against his head and groaned in frustration.
“I won’t make you . . . yeda dlya poroshka, food fit for rabbits, or in this case, tigers. It helps no one.”
“I beg you. Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”
“No. I’m sorry. Dinner’s in an hour or so.”
Stacia’s guard left her then, and she heard the slamming of not one but three different gates and the sound of keys turning in locks.
The noise from the Games carried even to their high location, and without a window to observe or try to pry loose, she had nothing else to do but figure out how to escape her cage.
Careful not to nick herself again, she used the blade in the staff to try to open the lock. It didn’t work.
Next, she tried to cut through the bolt, but that didn’t meet with success either.
Nor did trying to pry the hinges off the door.
The floor and ceiling were made of concrete, and though something wet dripped down from the corner of the ceiling above, there was no indication that the box they’d put her in had any weaknesses.
Her machinations were interrupted when her jailer brought her a wooden tray with a small, bruised piece of fruit, a slice of bread, some water, and a small pot. She bit into the old apple and winced. As she chewed, she held up the pot and asked through a mouthful of pulpy dinner, “What’s this for?”
“To do your business. Go on the floor like some of these other brutes and you go without dinner.”
Stacia gagged, catching a whiff of the pot, and set it aside, pushing it away with her boot. “Got it.”
He turned to go, and that’s when she noticed his slight limp. Taking another bite of her apple, she motioned toward his leg. “Battle wound?” she asked casually.
“Took an axe to the leg when I was young. Never healed properly. Least I still have it. Could have been worse.”
Nodding, Stacia said, “Must have sank into the muscle. Lucky you didn’t nick a major blood vessel.
Lost a good many soldiers in battle before.
Axe wounds are brutal. Personally, I’d prefer a nice clean sword through the heart if I’m to go that way.
That means whoever fought me looked me in the eye and at least had some style if they beat me.
An arrow is a bit cowardly, to my way of thinking.
An axe? Don’t need to have much skill to wield those. ”
“Oh? I disagree. True, you need muscle to carry it and to strike, and it may be that only a brute of a man would choose it for a weapon, but to throw it with precision takes talent.”
“I suppose that’s an accurate assessment.”
“Did you bring a sword to fight with, then?”
“Sadly, no. I left my sword at home.”
“What do you have?”
Moving aside her coat, she showed him the staff.
“Oh, that’s a beauty,” he said.
“It is, I agree. A staff has never been my weapon of choice though.”
“No?”
“Not really. But I do have something that can help you.”
“Help me?”
Reaching into the pocket of her coat, she fished out the coin. He held up his hands. “I already got the red gold from your master. As you can see, it didn’t benefit you at all.”
“I know. This is different.”
She picked up the mug of water and plopped the coin into the cup, swirling it a bit with her finger, then took a sip for effect. “Now you,” she said.
“Me, what? You want me to drink?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It will help your leg. At least that’s what the aunties told me. Couldn’t hurt to try, I imagine. Go on,” she said, thrusting the mug toward him. “Just swallow some.”
He took the mug and sniffed the contents, then narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you aren’t drugging me?”
“Because you saw me drink from it too. You can lock me in here first and drink it outside, if you like.”
He decided to do just that while Stacia rolled her eyes. Still, she would have done the same thing.
After he swallowed a mouthful, he took another, then passed back the cup with the coin at the bottom. “Don’t feel any different,” he said.
“Give it some time. Maybe it takes a while,” she replied.
He grunted and left, but returned a short time later with a full pitcher of water for her and then began snuffing most of the torches for the night. Stacia rolled herself into her warm pelisse and fell asleep.
The next morning, her keeper unlocking her cell was the sound that woke her. “Hurry,” he said. “I can get you in with me to watch the match with your tiger, but that’s all I can manage for now.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, passing him as he closed the cell behind her.
She followed him through dark passages that twisted and turned until they emerged through a door that led out into the cold, bright sunlight of a mountaintop morning.
Three fights were already underway. One took place in the water arena.
Two large ships were blasting each other with cannons while sailors clashed steel and swung back and forth from ropes.
Stacia could also see there were huge, vicious monsters in the water that quickly ripped apart and devoured anyone who fell overboard.
The second looked like a desert with mounds where men climbed and leaped from structure to structure.
They fought for dominance atop each narrow space.
Below, huge scorpion creatures waited to grab those who fell.
The third was a series of boxes with holes and tubes.
Warriors had to make their way through them like rats.
Weapons and helpful items were littered throughout, but so were deadly dangers, such as snakes and blades that snapped into vulnerable torsos or skulls.
Horns blasted, indicating that a fourth arena was just about to get underway.
This was where they were headed. Stacia pulled her cloak tighter around her body and fingered the staff tucked into her pocket.
Her jailer had his hand on her arm, escorting her just as he would anyone else, and she noticed him nodding at others from time to time.
All the men carried the same look about them.
She wondered how many of them there were and how many she and Iriko would have to kill to earn their freedom.
“Your tonic worked,” the man said softly when they turned a corner.
“Good,” Stacia replied. “I’m glad you’re well.”
“I’m more than well,” he said. “It didn’t just cure my leg.
The ache in my bones has disappeared, too, and the darkness clouding my vision is gone.
You healed me. I-I won’t be able to save your man or tiger or whatever he is, but I will try to save you.
I aim to add your name to the list on the ship in the first arena.
They won’t be able to recover all the bodies with those toothy fish in the water.
I’ll have to wait until the Games are over, but I’ll be able to smuggle you out.
I’ll say you’re a woman I won some time with. ”
“Thank you, but I . . .” Stacia looked into his earnest face and realized what he was risking for her.
“Thank you,” she finished, patting his arm and not saying what she’d intended.
She didn’t need to put him in more danger, and having a way out for at least one of them was a step in the right direction.
“Here we are,” he said, stopping at a grate. Bending, he pulled it open and indicated she could climb down. There was a metal ladder leading into a dark pit. “I’ll need to lock this behind you,” he said. “But I’ll be back for you when the fight is over. I’m sorry about your man.”
“Spasibo,” Stacia said, putting her foot on the ladder.
She began climbing, descending into the dark, which became even blacker when the small opening above her head was closed, and she heard the snick of a lock.
Her heavy cloak swirled around her body, nearly tripping her as she continued.
It felt like she’d gone down several flights of stairs before her eyes finally adjusted to the dimness and she could finally make out a bit of her surroundings.
The stairs came to a stop on a grate that circled a dark arena.
This was the place where all the lights were attached.
The walkway was only about two to three feet wide and at least two floors up from the arena floor.
She stepped all the way to the edge, and then she heard a buzz and nearly fell as the whole thing began to move.
A huge dome shifted, opening to the sky, blinding her with its light.
Thunderous cheers erupted from the crowd that came into view by the thousands as the arena circled in their direction.
Stacia darted behind a spotlight just as it came on and reflexively turned to the scene laid out below.
Her mouth fell open. It was a forest, filled with trees, complete with a river that ran down the middle filled by a picturesque waterfall.
It was lovely enough to take her breath away.
A beautiful white stag entered the landscape.
He bent to drink from the stream, and when he lifted his head, she noticed that his impressive antlers were made of gold.
Drums began, and then an announcer spoke.
“Damy i gospoda, ladies and gentlemen. For your viewing pleasure, I give you a very special treat. Here we have the rare white stag of the tundra, but not only this—his horns have been dipped in bronze and sharpened to razor points. A more striking and uncommon creature you will never see, except for those who hunt him. For today I bring you not one, not two, but four unusual tigers, each one as unique as the stripes on their bodies. And it appears to me that they are hungry.”
The crowd erupted at that word.