CHAPTER SEVENTEEN #2
A fine sheen of sweat coats my body as the boat rocks unsteadily. If we overturn the galley before the emperor’s entertainment begins, he’ll probably kill all of us.
The boat sways some more and everyone hastens to their seats. The scent of salt fills my nostrils, the water continuing to rise with our boat, and I peer over the side of the railing.
The arena floor is gone. Where there should be stone beneath sand, there is now nothing but darkness.
The amount of power this must have taken is unimaginable.
Hester stands at the stern, her eyes narrowed as she grasps one of the rudders.
I hope she knows how to steer, because it’s not just the other boat we will need to worry about.
Numerous platforms dot the once-empty arena, most of them holding weapons for anyone stupid enough to leave the relative safety of the boat.
A platform in the center holds a pile of shields. Shields we’re going to need.
Baldric takes up an oar on the other side of the boat, and Maeva nods at me. We’re both keeping a careful eye on him.
Silence overtakes the jubilant screams of the spectators. When I look up, I find the emperor smiling down at us. Surprisingly, he doesn’t say a word. He simply waves his hand, and both boats are pushed away from the arena entrances.
His little push doesn’t last for long. Within a moment we’re floundering, all of us attempting to understand how to work the oars.
The galley rocks dangerously.
Kaeso’s oar hits Sisenna’s and she lets out a frustrated curse. I wrestle with my own oar, arms already aching as I lift the heavy wood.
The other boat is making its way closer. I squint into the sun, and realization dawns on me.
Our boat holds gladians—legitimate citizens of the empire who either won the Sands in their region or trained their entire lives to be here.
The other boat holds enemies of the empire. Those the emperor has designated as criminals. Battered and bruised, crushed but not conquered.
Unlike us, they already row in unison.
“Row,” one of them roars, and their boat slices through the water.
“Row!” Hester echoes at our stern, and we all attempt to wrangle our oars, cursing and straining and splashing.
Something flies toward me and I duck, crouching low on my bench. An arrow slams into the side of our boat.
My pulse thunders and I scan, searching for shields. But they’re all piled in the center platform.
Our boat tips precariously to the right. The crowd jeers.
Placus lets out a scream, ducking down. An arrow juts through his bicep. Tolva leans over to help, almost losing her own head. Someone in the other boat is an excellent shot.
“We need shields,” I yell to Maeva.
“What?”
“Shields!” I point to the platform and she shakes her head.
“Don’t do it.”
We don’t have a choice. Either we get shields, or we die.
I haul myself onto the side of the boat.
“Arvelle!” Maeva gestures at one of the men in the other boat. He’s unkempt, with a long, scraggly beard, and it’s obvious that he has been starved, his skin lax on his body, ribs jutting out like the sun-bleached bones of a shipwreck.
The man dives from the boat with the form of someone who has lived near water for most of his life.
No time to hesitate. I dive in after him, salt stinging my eyes. My brain struggles to understand the depth of the water. Where did the bottom of the arena go?
A large, black shadow swoops toward me. I dodge, barely avoiding the dark form as it sweeps past.
I don’t stick around. I’m already kicking harder, swimming faster. Light glimmers through the water above my head near the platform. Triumph flashes through me as my hand breaks the surface.
Yes. There.
My upward motion halts. I sweep my arms up, stretching toward freedom. Toward air.
No. No!
Something is pulling me down. Something that has latched onto my boot, trapping my foot with blunt teeth.
I yank at it, kicking out with my other foot, bubbles clouding my vision. Panic slams into me. It’s pulling me deeper into the depths of the water. I kick again. This time I hit something. But it doesn’t let me go.
I need air.
Desperation claws at me. I flail, kicking out again and again, the surface of the water tauntingly close.
Light slices through the water and I finally catch a glimpse of my attacker.
Burning red eyes, a black coat, and a gleaming silver halter. A mane of dark seaweed floats around its head, and it lifts deadly hooves in a clear threat.
Kelpies. The emperor has captured kelpies. Somehow, his guards have managed to slip silver halters over their heads. Kelpies aren’t known for attacking without reason. I’ve heard you can even enjoy a conversation with them when they’re not in their horse form.
But those halters have trapped the kelpies in this form, ensuring they will do whatever the emperor wants.
And what he wants is blood.
My lungs seize, and the threat the kelpie represents is suddenly secondary to my need for air.
Movement to my right.
I lift my hands defensively, but the approaching kelpie already has a man in its grip.
The bearded man is choking. Drowning. Seizing.
I struggle harder, lashing out at the kelpie dragging me down.
The man reaches out a hand as if begging for help.
His dagger falls free, his eyes open and lifeless.
The kelpie releases him, disappearing back into the depths as the man’s body floats toward the surface.
His knife falls through the water, inches from my hand.
I lunge for it, my vision darkening at the edges.
My brain knows that if I open my mouth and take a breath, I will die. But my body doesn’t seem to get the message. I ruthlessly fight the urge to inhale.
My fingers brush the wooden hilt of the dagger. Debris from above falls through the water and the kelpie shifts slightly to the right.
But that’s all it takes.
The dagger falls neatly into my palm and I twist, desperate.
I’m sloppy and slow, uncoordinated in the freezing water. But some higher power must guide my hand. Because I slam the dagger into the kelpie’s head, the blade sliding neatly into its eye.
It releases me instantly, its shriek so loud it echoes even through the water. My vision is blurring, my lungs so tight I open my mouth in a silent scream as I fight my way up toward the surface.
Cool air on my face.
The crowd gasps audibly. Clearly they thought I was dead.
I inhale the water in my mouth, coughing and spluttering and coughing some more. My throat and lungs ache, but the fresh air on my skin is like the touch of a lover.
“Watch out!” someone roars. I dodge to the side, barely avoiding an arrow to the head. Hester stands on top of the platform holding the shields and swords, just a few feet away, a shield in her hand.
She must have swum past me and the bearded man while we distracted the kelpies.
“Get up here!” Hester screams.
I swim toward her, but each stroke is slower than the last, my breaths still unsteady.
Hester crouches, and my blood turns cold. This would be the perfect chance for her to kill me. With all this chaos, the emperor might not even notice. She holds her arm out, waving it impatiently.
“What are you doing?” I croak.
“We need you. Hurry up, you slug.”
I guess we’ll try to kill each other another time.
I slap my hand into hers, roll across the platform, and pick up the parma she kicks toward me. Slipping my arm into the strap, I take a deep breath, leaning down to swipe a crossbow someone has dropped. The stock of the crossbow is wet with blood.
This platform is positioned dead center in the middle of the arena. Behind us and to our left, our boat floats drunkenly, sails ripped and torn. The other boat is slowly circling around our platform, less than twenty feet away, targeting the other gladians behind us.
From here, I can see each of their faces. Hester lets a bolt fly, and it slams into the stern of their boat. They immediately return fire, and we’re forced to flatten ourselves on the wooden platform, the water pouring over the sides and into our faces as it rocks unsteadily.
“Seriously?” I snap.
“We need to kill them.”
“So let’s come up with an actual plan.”
Hester sneers at me, getting to her feet. I haul myself up, just in time to lift my shield. An arrow thunks into the wood.
I peer around my shield, meeting the eyes of a huge man.
From the bright beads braided into his long blond hair and the three scars slashed into each of his biceps, he’s from Torvellen. And something tells me he doesn’t appreciate being forced to reenact the battle that likely led to his capture. I can’t exactly blame him.
He roars something to the small, dark-haired woman with defensive wounds along her forearms. They’re close enough that I can see the stitches have been removed, the skin angry and red. She must have only been allowed to see a mundane healer, who has sewed her flesh like it’s a piece of cloth.
The woman nods at whatever the man says, letting her arrow loose. Screams sound from the boat behind us. We need to get these shields to them.
“Tell them to get closer,” I say.
Hester nods, but we both know they can only get so close without coming under heavier fire from the other boat.
A head pops up from the water. Maeva’s eyes are wide, her face pale. “Get me out.”
I lunge for her, holding out my hand. Within a moment, she’s on the platform next to me, coughing up water.
“Did you see?” She gasps. “Fucking kelpies.”
I almost laugh. It’s the first time I’ve heard her curse.
“You could have stayed in the boat.”
She coughs some more. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun.”
“If you can cover me, I’ll throw the shields into our boat,” I say.
The emperor snaps something to a gold-crowned sigilmarked who holds up his hand. I follow his gaze to the galley drifting toward us. It moves unnaturally through the water, ensuring the other gladians will be forced to engage directly with the criminals.
The emperor wants more blood.
Sisenna’s voice is a high-pitched shriek behind us, but the emperor must be feeling charitable, because our boat comes within feet of the platform. Of course this means we’re suddenly under even heavier fire.
Brenin jumps from the boat with a splash, and my palms dampen at the thought of the kelpies below. But he cuts through the water with three strokes, hauling himself onto the platform.
“Don’t worry, ladies, I’ve come to save you.”
Maeva, Hester, and I let out identical snarls.
Brenin laughs, muscles bulging as he easily lifts several shields, throwing them to the boat behind us. I’m suddenly exceedingly grateful that I didn’t have to face him in the arena.
Maeva and I fire back at the other boat while Hester shoves the remaining shields into the water, ensuring the criminals won’t be able to use them.
We’re under heavy fire, but Hester’s next bolt takes the huge Torvellen man in the head. He stumbles back, collapsing onto the boat. I’ve mostly managed to block out the crowd, but their victorious screams turn my stomach.
More bolts fly from the criminals’ boat, and someone lets out an agonized scream behind us.
I duck, raising my shield, dread pooling in my gut.
Sisenna clutches at the bolt through her throat, stumbling backward. Maeva lets out a curse. “We need to get her to a healer.”
“It’s too late,” Brenin says as Sisenna collapses back. “She’s dead.”
The crowd jeers at us, and for a single moment, time stops. I never liked Sisenna. But her death is a waste. What am I doing here? What are any of us doing here?
I catch sight of the woman with the scarred arms leaning over the railing of their boat, eyes narrowed as she tracks a kelpie. The creature slams into their boat, and several people shriek.
The woman’s gaze meets mine. Her expression is still defiant, and the way she holds herself is almost familiar.
More bolts. More screams from our boat. The criminals are working together, while our people scream frustrated curses at one another.
I hiss through clenched teeth. Next to me, Brenin lets out an enraged roar, drawing back his crossbow.
The bolt shoots straight, and I let out a choked cry. “Wait!”
It hits the woman with the scarred arms, slamming into the spot just below her collarbone. Her mouth opens in a silent scream, and she wobbles on her feet.
A tall man lunges, reaching for her. His hand sweeps through empty air as she pitches over the side of their boat, sinking into the water.
Hester lets out a victorious laugh.
A memory slams into me. The woman standing in this arena, head high, sorrow in her eyes as she stares at the man whose life she was forced to take.
I suck in one deep breath. And then I dive back into the churning water.