Fantasy of Flight (12 page)

“The King will speak with one representative,” he says.

I look around. Half don’t seem to know what a representative is. It contains a few too many syllables. The line share baffled looks. I see Shard start to open his mouth, but I tread on his foot.

“I’ll go,” I say. The man looks at me and laughs. His eyes move down my body. I’m in my black strappy suit which I had managed to forget until his look. His eyes linger and I hold his gaze. I’m the only chance these men have to survive. I need to let Jovan know I’m here, maybe he’ll be more lenient and let some of us go. I dare to hope he’ll let everyone leave, but I’ll give up my newfound freedom ten times over if my friends aren’t slaughtered like pigs.

“Frost,” Shard says in a low tone. I step forward and look at my friends and then down at Tricks’ group, who have edged closer.

“Do you remember the sled on the way back from Sector Six?” I ask. One by one all eleven men nod. Crystal does the same. Their looks turn to surprise. And worse, some turn to hope.

I turn to the Watchman again.

“I will go,” I repeat. He laughs and pokes fun at the men for letting a woman do their dirty work.

There is some muttering from Slay’s group, but they’re shut up by angry hisses from the others. The man smiles and darts a look at my bare legs before untying my hands and pushing me ahead of him. Another joins him. Now that my hands are free I could take them easily. And then there’s only the trifling matter of breaking twenty people out of the dome.

The men march me up and through the richer audience members on the first level. The well-dressed people shy back as I walk past. A couple of women hold their hands over their mouths. I’m either terrifying or I stink. A spear jabs me in the back, directing me up the carved steps. I grit my teeth, quelling the desire to break the man’s spear over his back.

The raised balcony is filled with assembly members on tiered benches. A wide set of stairs create an aisle between the seating to the top. A girl I vaguely recognize squeals and throws herself away from me as a man behind her gives her a teasing push in my direction. All of my friends are in attendance, except for Malir and Rhone. I ignore them, as someone from the Outer Rings would do, and start up the stairs before I can be jabbed again. My eyes follow the stairs to their highest point where the King’s throne is positioned, his advisors’ chairs on either side. I see familiar booted feet and lift my gaze until I am looking at Jovan’s face. Roscoe, Adnan’s father, is murmuring in his ear. Jovan’s eyes glaze over me as he agrees with whatever the older man is saying.

He suddenly slams back into his throne.

I meet his wide-eyed stare with a smile.

I see shock, anger, horror take their turns on his expression, and then briefly see something else as he looks down my frame. My skin rises in bumps where his gaze moves. I shiver.

He isn’t wearing a tunic today. None of the assembly is. It must be custom. He looks just like the fighters in the arena. But bigger and not as scarred. His chest is hard muscle. I shake away my odd thoughts and refocus on staying alive for another hour. It only takes him a heartbeat longer to collect himself. We’re lucky only Roscoe and Ashawn have witnessed the strength of his reaction.

“You…are one of the fighters?” he asks and clears his throat. I nod, keeping my face smooth.

A spear prods me in the back. I turn over my shoulder and scowl at the guard. He steps back quickly. This one must have seen me fight. I smile and shake my head.

I look back at Jovan. “Yes, m’king,” I say.

I can see he doesn’t know how to go on. So I speak. “So you throw a coupla hundred Watchmen at us til we’re killed?” I’m a little proud of my slang.

His expression doesn’t change. I almost groan. Come on, Jovan.

“What’s wrong? Afraid of a fair fight?” I prompt. The other Watchman growls and swings to knock me to my knees, but I jump over his spear and step aside, laughing at him.

The King holds up his hand and the man stops. “Everyone here will die,” he says, his eyes piercing into my own. “They deserve to die. They are murders, rapists and thieves.” I arch one brow, but stay silent as he continues. “However, we do not slaughter women.”

I press a finger to my lips. “There’s another girly down there. Guess you’ll let her go, too,” I say.

His eyes flash with anger, but he accedes to my request. He can hardly do otherwise.

I can save one life, or I can risk my life, and Crystal’s, to try and save the other men. If there were some guarantee they
could
be saved, my choice would be easy. I hesitate on the brink of accepting Jovan’s offer. I know the others would understand. That they would commend me on saving Crystal. But then I remember how Kedrick’s death used to weigh on me. Could I handle the death of so many, knowing I hadn’t done my best to save them? There is a slim chance Jovan will call off the fight. Can I force his hand?

I cross my arms and plant my feet wide. I tilt my chin up and look down my nose at all his advisors. I give them the look I would have given Slay if I had faced him in the arena. Death in combat is better than deciding the fate of my friends in cold blood. Time to piss off the assembly and seal my fate. If they’re calling for my blood, Jovan won’t be able to prevent my return to the dome.

I strut down the line, swinging my hips. “How could one weak woman fight?” I ask. One of the advisors laughs.

Another, Arla’s father, goes further and wraps a hand around my hip as I pass him. I have stolen the younger guard’s spear and have it aimed beneath the groping man’s ribs before he can blink. I pause and smile at Drummond’s terrified look before tossing the spear back at the Watchman. The King barks an order when the older Watchman starts to draw his sword. The sword is sheathed.

“Well, m’King.” I bow with a flourish. “I’ve made my choice. You couldn’t find better men than those you plan on murdering. I’d rather die among them, than live with all of you. So you can shove the offer up your royal arse,” I say. There’s a gasp from the assembly closest to the throne. Probably from some of my friends here.

Jovan narrows his eyes at me and I see the muscles of his square jaw clench. I give him a challenging look in return. I know he’s searching for a way to force me out of this. But he can’t let me go now. I’ve insulted him in front of witnesses. He can’t reveal who I am either. He’s the only other living person to have seen my face, apart from my mother. He knows how disastrous it would be for both worlds if everyone knew the Tatuma had blue eyes. I give him a smile I’ve seen Willow give and wink at him. I receive the compliment of his gaze running over me again. In a guilty moment, I do the same to him.

“Come on, boys,” I say to my guarded escort. I turn and walk down the steps, scaring a few of the assembly as I go.

“I’ll delay the fight by ten minutes,” Jovan calls to my back. “If you should change your mind, raise your arm.”

I’m shoved back through the gate. The Watchmen lock the door behind me, not entering with me. I dart a look up at the King’s platform and see Jovan is standing at the edge now. I jog back to my men and the whole group gathers around me. Even Slay’s barrack. Everyone’s hands have been untied. There are no Watchmen left on the dome floor. They must be preparing for the slaughter.

“We only have one chance,” I say as I crouch in the middle of them. “The King is going to kill us. He thinks we’re all criminals.” Slay cackles at this.

“Our only shot is to show everyone that we aren’t,” I continue.

There are shouts and murmurs over this. “And how the fuck d’you reckon we’ll do that?” Slay scoffs. He doesn’t expect an answer, but I give him one.

I take a deep breath. “We don’t kill the Watchmen. We only hit to disable.”

There’s a general roar at my words. I let them continue for one minute before I interrupt. Time is precious. “If we don’t do this, we all die. If you do as I say, we
may
survive,” I say. I can see most of the others are starting to agree.

Slay steps into the middle. “We’re dead anyway. We may as well take some of the King’s filthy men with us!” he shouts. A few of the men agree with him. There’s no time to change their minds.

“Then I ask that you fight separately from us. If you’re going to condemn yourselves, I’d rather not be mixed up with you.”

In perhaps the only decent thing I’ve ever seen Slay do, he jerks his head to the others and starts over to the opposite side of the space. All of his men follow. And with a hesitant look, one of Tricks’ men also joins them. Idiot.

The men fold around me again and look at me expectantly. I shove down my panic. There must only be a few minutes left.

“How are we going to survive against that many of them?” Sin asks.

“Avalanche and I will be working to block the gates. If we can funnel them so only a small number get through, we should be able to manage. Our group strategy is excellent. Shard, give Tricks’ men a brief rundown of the basic components. We only have a few minutes.”

Shard nods and takes my place in the circle as I take Avalanche away from the group.

“How high can you throw me?” I ask. He looks around.

“Can you throw me to the balustrade of the first level?” I press. He gauges the distance.

“Yes,” he grunts. 

“Good. I’ll need you to throw me over there first.” I jerk my thumb to the wall behind me.

We rejoin the men and I see Crystal. Shit.

A thunderous horn sounds. And the men fall into two staggered lines. I run down the front of the line, yelling over the noise. “Your number one priority is to protect Crystal. Your second priority is not to die.” Some of them let out chuckles at my weak attempt at humor.

“If we survive this–” Sin says. I roll my eyes.

“If we survive this, everyone left standing will kiss you. How about that?” I ask and turn to address the others. “No guard is to be killed. Anything else goes! Let’s show them we’re not all scum,” I yell. The men roar with me and we look around us as the four gates of the dome begin to rise.

I meet Avalanche’s gaze and we break from the rest. We jog away from each other. My men know what we’re doing. The others yell at me as I run closer to an opening gate. I can hear the Watch behind me.

The distance is right.

I sprint toward the hulking man. He starts to turn before I reach out to him. We clasp arms and he spins us both in a rapid circle. He releases my arms and I fly. I don’t worry that I’ll land somewhere other than where I should. We’ve practiced this a thousand times and he hasn’t missed for over a month now.

I twist in the air and land on the barrier facing a line of shocked Inner circle citizens. They scramble away. I look left and right and spot the stairs. Two Watchmen guard the bottom. One earns a roundhouse to the face; the other gets knocked out with his own spear. I continue all the way up to the top level. It seems only the Inner Ring gets added protection. No one is in pursuit.

I dodge through the top Outer Rings level, trying to locate the stairs to the walkway. The Outer Ring cheers me on. Happy with their private show. There is a single guard at the entrance to the walkway. I dash up the few stairs to the walkway after dealing with him.

I need to eliminate the archers.

There’s no point attempting to block the gates if they can shoot my fighters like fish in a barrel. I crouch and run down to where the bowmen are stationed.

I peer around the corner, my back to the wall. There are five. The arrows are in one large bucket behind them. I won’t be able to lift it. I strain my eyes to check what it’s made of. There are torches all down the walkway. But if I stand to get one, they will see me.

The sound of sword meeting sword clangs through the dome. Every second I wait, another Watchman is trying to kill my friends. I need to act now.

Ditching any attempt at subtlety, I leave my hiding spot and race down the walkway. I jump up and heft the torch free as the first man turns. I shove it into the arrows. I won’t be able to do anything about the ones they already have, but Jovan’s archers weren’t very good six months ago. Hopefully they haven’t gotten any better.

The archers see the flaming arrows.

I hardly break my sprint as I run to the man on the end and sink a fist into his gut, swiping his dagger. I don’t fight them. There are more important things to do.

“Get her!” one shouts.

I look to my left and gauge the distance. I try not to think about what I’m about to do. Hesitation will kill me. I launch myself over the walkway barrier, into space.

A whir of an arrow sounds behind me. The Watchman misses.

The swing of the beam takes me off guard as I land. My stomach lurches as I work to regain my balance. The crowd gasps. Whoever built this dome shouldn’t have hung their banners off four beams suspended above the gates. It was the perfect means to block the entries onto the dome floor. They’d need twenty or more men to move them.

I steady myself and quickly get to work, cutting one rope and then running along the wide beam. I slash through the second rope and then the third in the middle, leaping off onto the level below as the beam falls. I hope the beam doesn’t land on anyone. But Jovan may forgive me for killing guards and I’m certain I’m making enough of a spectacle up here that the Watchmen will be aware of my movements.

A second later there’s a resounding crash.

I don’t know what the Watch is expecting. But I don’t think they expected me to repeat the same process along the next wall.  When I fling myself onto this beam, I’m more prepared for the sudden sway. There are shouts. The five archers are heading toward me. I cut the ropes and grab the railing of the level below as I leap off. Two Outer Ring Bruma pull me over the side.

A thunderous noise signals my success. I repeat my actions on the third beam and don’t wait for the crash before moving to the final beam. The Watchmen know where I’ll be this time. Two of them meet me at the bottom of the stairs. It was a mistake for them to split up. Sweat dripping in my eyes, I disable them and run to the top. The others had not expecting me to get through. I dodge past them and jump onto the last beam. There is a whir. I drop and something brushes the top of my head.

This time I cut both outside ropes and then dance along the beam to the middle. I take a quick breath and cut the third rope.

I ride the beam down to the first level where I jump off onto the balustrade. The air whooshes out of my lungs as I cling to the barrier. This time I can feel vibrations in the stone as the beam hits. Wheezing, I stand on the barrier and grab a drink from a man and tilt it back, draining the whole goblet. It could be my last drink.

I give a loud ‘yip’ over my shoulder and hear one in response. I spread my arms wide and fall backward, laughing at the look on the Bruma’s faces.

Air rushes past me. I bring my arms to my sides and push my legs together. Avalanche catches me and flings me up. I land on the dome floor once more. Not before adding a couple of tumbles. The crowd roars at my display. I promptly forget them and take in my immediate surroundings.

The men are in two staggered lines. All sweating. All fighting for their lives and entirely focused on what they’re doing. Slay and his men have a pile of bleeding Watchmen at their feet on the opposite side of the dome.

I look beyond them and my heart sinks. So many got through. There are still about a hundred Watchmen to fight. Three of the beams are in place. The fourth one has rolled forward slightly. And I can see guards are squeezing through in a slow trickle. We now have the tiniest chance to survive.

Crystal is standing behind the men with her arms wrapped around herself. The two upper levels are chanting and stamping their feet. The whole place is shaking. They are screaming my name.  I crouch as a spear hurtles past me and I finally see what the small jutting stages are for. Malir and the other commander are barking orders to those below them. They’re coordinating the Watch.

“Avalanche!” I yell over the noise. He grunts as I explain what I want to do. I back up a shorter distance. He throws me and I’m just able to latch onto the side of the balcony holding the unknown commander. I push myself up and dodge his sword. I follow this with a punch to the throat. I turn around using the wall behind him and punch him across the jaw. He drops, but is still blinking. I kick him to make sure he’s down for the fight. I realize as I look over the side there isn’t any good way to get back to my men. Might as well do it my way.

I jump over the balcony and land on a Watchman’s shoulders. Before he reacts, I leap onto the next man’s.

I shout as I go. “Commander down! Commander down!” I dance over the top of them and jump over the pile of unconscious bodies to get back to my men. My ploy has worked. The Watchmen are turning in confusion to their lone commander. Their faces uncertain. The onslaught slows.

“Regroup!” Malir yells. He has been directing the men down at the opposite end, but now he’ll have to split his attention between both groups. The Watchmen drop back. I’m not going to take out Malir, if I even could. He’s my friend - or was.

“Wait!” I yell as Blizzard moves to chase them. He falls back.

I run along the line, puffing. “Fall back a little to the corner so they can’t get around us to Crystal. Catch your breath. This time they won’t be stopping.” I look up and then turn back to the men. “There are fifty or so left. We can do this!”

“But they’ll probably kill us at the end anyway!” Ice says, lifting his head from where he’s trying to catch his breath.

“They might. They also might not. If they do? You’ll all become legends. The only fighters to have ever beat the Watchmen,” I say.

I pick up an abandoned spear. The men shuffle back twenty meters to the corner. I nod at Crystal and turn back to the Watchmen who have regained their lines.

“Charge!” Malir barks to his Watch.

My eyes flick down. There’s a rope lying across the pit from one of the beams I released. I run, faster than I ever have, dropping my spear next to me as I seize the rope with both hands. As the front line nears I pull using all my strength and body weight. It isn’t enough.

Then the rope lifts. I look over my shoulder at Shard and Blizzard. I have time to give them a hint of a smile before the rope is ripped from my hands, tearing at the skin of my palms.

The front row of men falls over each other. It stops their charge and the men behind them.

I pick up my spear and we rejoin the other men, who are cheering, even as they knock out the fallen guards with the blunt ends of their spears. Thirty men or so are now in front of us. Ten against Slay’s crew. I don’t know how many of Slay’s men are left. Not many, if they only sent ten fighters there.

For the next undeterminable period of time, the eleven of us fight. All of us begin to flake and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, if we haven’t been training so hard lately we’d be dead already. Everyone is bleeding from some wound or another. Most of us have been hit several times.

I arch my back and spin the spear around to cut through the thighs of three men. I reverse the spear and hit the same men over the face with the blunt end. While they are clutching their faces, I bring them to the ground, one after the other.

Less than twenty left.

I fall behind the line and assess the situation. I look up at Malir, to see if I can judge what his next move will be. My heart stops. Butcher is on the level above him. He has a sword in his hand. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he plans to do.

I dodge through the fighting front; spear in hand. As Butcher begins his jump I take two galloping steps and release the spear.

It catches him halfway down, through the mouth, pinning him to the wall above Malir’s head.

Time slows. Malir looks behind him. Then at me. A roaring blast splits through the dome in the second of silence after the spear impaled its target. I turn toward the source of the most inhuman sound I’ve ever heard. Slay cuts the head off his opponent in a vicious strike and begins his charge towards me, bloodied sword gleaming in his hand. A weapon would be ideal.

Suddenly the ten remaining Watchmen are the least of my problems. They aren’t paying me any attention anyway. There aren’t enough of them to fight on two fronts.

“Yip!” I look up and see a sword spinning in a slow lob toward me. I catch it and raise it in thanks at Shard.

“Yip!” I catch a second sword from Flurry. And vaguely notice Avalanche knocking two of the Watchmen’s heads together while Ice cuts through their calves.

Slay is halfway across the dome now. He’s enraged and moving quickly. I test the balance of the swords and circle them twice, then stroll into the middle of the dome. It looks like we’ll get our match after all.

He doesn’t stop, but he does roar. “You killed my brother, you fucking whore!” The last word is screamed.

His eyes are crazed as he swings his sword down on me. I parry the blow with crossed swords, but I’m still forced back several meters by the fury he puts into it. Every thrust I block or push aside makes my arms tremble. And his blows are as rapid as I remember. But his anger has taken away his calculation and calm.

“He looks like a pig up there,” I say and watch his face contort into pure rage. He swings wildly and I dart beneath his guard, slicing his right thigh. He bellows and jabs his blade my way, catching my upper left arm.

We rain blows on each other in our deadly dance. I cannot hear anything other than his breathing and I cannot sense anything other than his intentions. I operate solely on my instinct. We’re not interrupted. The other guards have been dealt with.

“You’re going to die, bitch. And then I’m going to piss on your dead body,” he spits and slashes at me. I wheel away.

His comment doesn’t affect me as it was intended to. Instead it reminds me of the woman he raped, mutilated and strung up. She looked about twenty or so. Just younger than Crystal. No doubt he raped Crystal while thinking she was a child.

White fury, like I haven’t felt since Kedrick’s death, licks my stomach. There is renewed force in my thrusts as I unleash a torrent of attacks down on him. I have the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen. He’s not thinking of his brother anymore. He is realizing I’m a better fighter. He overcommits on a thrust. It’s my chance. I hold down his blade with one of my swords, ducking his crushing fist, and bury my other sword all the way to the hilt in his stomach

I dance back with my single sword. Even like this he’s still dangerous. I kick his weapon away when he brings both hands to the sword protruding from his stomach. I remember Kedrick doing the same with the arrow sticking out of his chest. I shake the haunting memory away.

Slay falls to his knees. I look behind me. The others are watching. The crowd is chanting my name again. Or maybe they never stopped.

“Crystal,” I call and gesture to her.

She looks my way and shuffles forwards. I give her a hurry-up gesture and she jogs over.

“Want the honors?” I ask and hold out the sword.

She looks at the sword and back up at me in disbelief. Her heart-shaped face hardens. “Yes,” she says and grips the hilt, almost snatching the weapon from my hands.

I move behind Slay and hold his hands behind him. I don’t want him to try anything. Crystal stands in front of him. I can tell she’s afraid to be so close to him. I wonder if she’ll do it.