Fantasy of Flight (13 page)

Slay speaks between gasps. “You were one of my favorites. You had such a tight little –”

Crystal swings and cuts into his neck. It doesn’t make it all the way through. She pulls it out and swings again. Blood sprays me.

“Murderer!” she screams. I let go and he falls to the ground. His head is off now. She hacks at his body.

“Rapist!” she screams. When she lifts the sword next time, I catch her wrist and take it from her, pulling her into my arms. I hold her as she sobs in my arms like the broken girl she has been. The crowd is hushed.

I rock her, stroking her hair.

“Frost! Come quickly!” Shard calls.

I whip my head around. The men are all circled around something. What are they staring at? Tugging Crystal with me, I walk toward them.

Then the men part and I see who is lying, dead still, in the middle.

I drop Crystal’s hand and sprint the rest of the way, my entire being is screaming.

Not Flurry!

Sin’s men part and back away as I scramble on my knees next to Flurry’s still frame. No, not still. He’s breathing. Gasping, struggling for breath.

“What happened?” I look at Blizzard who holds Flurry’s head in his hands.

“Watchmen got him, just under the ribs,” he says. His eyes are bloodshot and his chin trembles, on the edge of losing it. Every fighter here knows “under the ribs” is never good. I grab one of Flurry’s bloody hands as Crystal drops to her knees on my other side. There is so much blood. He has no tunic on to soak it up, so it just runs down his sides. I turn to Shard. I don’t even get a chance to say anything before he shakes his head at me. I hold his gaze and read the hopelessness in his eyes. Another person I cared about was going to die.

Flurry coughs.

“You’re alright, brother,” Ice says. He has a firm hold of Flurry’s other hand.

“No, I’m not,” Flurry says and lets out a short laugh, which turns into a coughing fit. Crystal is crying again. I gesture to Avalanche and jerk my head at her. I hope he comforts her.

Flurry looks up at me. “You got him. You…got Slay,” he gasps, expression contorting in pain.

“You bet I did,” I say, my vision becoming blurry.

“Then we won,” he says and closes his eyes with a tired smile. It takes a moment to understand he’s talking about the tournament. It seems so long ago.

“We kicked ass. Top fighter and top ranking,” Blizzard says. Tears drip down his face, onto the gritty ground of the dome.

“No need to—,” he says and rolls, clutching the area just under his heart, “look so sad.” The wave of pain passes and Ice rolls him onto his back again. “I always wanted to win the tournament.”

“We did it. You did it.” Shard crouches down and grips Flurry’s shoulder.

“Just one more thing,” he says. His words are slurring now. I feel a traitorous tear trek its way down my face. I have no right to cry when Flurry is being so strong in his last moments. I grip his hand as though I can hold him here somehow.

“What?” I ask in a thick voice. I don’t think anyone else can speak.

Flurry looks up at me again and though he is on his deathbed his cheeks blush. “A kiss.”

“Why didn’t you just say so,” Sin says, pushing through the circle of men around us. Ice glares up at him, until Flurry laughs. It gives the rest of us the permission to do so, though the sound is forced. It makes the moment all the more heartbreaking.

“Someone…a bit prettier,” Flurry gasps. He twitches a finger in my direction and whispers, “Frost.”

I smile at him with trembling lips. The men are laughing softly at Sin’s spluttering denials behind me. I shuffle forward and take his head in both of my hands. A couple of tears splash onto his bloodied, sweat-streaked face. His head is dead weight in my hands. He no longer has the strength to lift it himself. Shivers wrack his body and his eyes keep sliding off me as though he’s having trouble focusing.

I lean over and touch my lips to his and pull back. He sighs and the sound rattles in his chest. I see him fading. I want to reach into his eyes and pull the light back into them, but I don’t know where it’s disappearing to.

I press a last sobbing kiss to his forehead.

He’s gone.

Blizzard hugs Flurry’s body fiercely, muttering words I can’t hear. Ice is shouting while Shard tries his best to comfort him. I hug myself, not bothering to hide my tears. A large hand rests on my shoulders and I look up at Avalanche. He opens his arms and I fling myself into them. He picks me up and hugs me tightly as I sob into his shoulder. I feel his tears landing on my head. Flurry is gone. Sweet Flurry, who had somehow been dragged into this life when he shouldn’t have been. He never had a chance to be a husband, or to be a father.

Avalanche starts to put me down. I wonder why until I see Jovan, his personal guard, and Malir are nearing. While we were occupied with Flurry, they’ve cleared a beam away from one of the doors.

Sin and his men are already in a line. Our grieving group joins them. There are two men who were with Slay still down the other end - the only survivors of their group. One of them Hale’s, and the second is the man who left Sin’s group. Jovan approaches them.

“What’s he doing?” Shard whispers.

Hale’s man attacks. Jovan’s sword is there before my eyes can process the action, and then the man’s head is sailing through the air.

“Fuck,” Shard says. He hardly ever curses.

The remaining man from Tricks’ barracks drops his weapon and puts up his hands. Two guards grab his arms and drag him in front of our line. Jovan circles the man slowly and holds his palms out. Startled, I remember the crowd. They are roaring, screaming for the man’s death. The people from the Outer Rings who have watched this man fight over and over again are doing the same. They laugh and throw rubbish from their perches. Jovan looks up at me and raises an eyebrow. I look away from him. The man’s scream hardly sounds before he, too, is dead.

There is the thud of boots as Jovan walks up and down the line. He looks into each man’s face for several moments. He ignores me the first time and then stops during his return walk and stands right in front of me.

I tilt my head up, a bit ashamed of my tear-streaked face. His eyes flicker over my features, no doubt taking all of this in. I’m too sad to give him the defiant look I planned on. The probing blue eyes probably see this as well. Since I first met him he’d appeared to have the eerie ability to read my thoughts.

“But would they have done the same without your guidance?” he finally asks. I answer him, though it was rhetorical. I can’t watch anymore of my friends die.

“Yes,” I say. I’m speaking of the others from my own barracks. I would include Wrath, Sin and Vice also. I don’t really know about the others.

Sure enough, Jovan’s eyes come to rest on Tricks’ men. Sin shuffles beside me.

The King returns his gaze to mine and he growls, turning away.

“Please,” I breathe. He stills for a moment and then continues to his own guard. I ignore the questioning looks from Sin and Avalanche. Is he going to kill them? Will he kill me?

The crowd is booing now. And chanting my name. I don’t know what they make of his extra attention toward me. The King draws his sword. The crowd boos louder. They don’t want him to do it. Perhaps they’re not as bloodthirsty as I thought.

“No death, no death, no death!” The crowd chants. The King holds up one hand and the crowd tapers to a stop. Some of the men in the line fidget, unsettled by this display of power.

“Today we have witnessed something never seen before,” he roars. The crowd roars back. He gives them a moment before raising his hand once again.

“And as such, I will do something never done before.”

Sin draws in a sharp breath next to me. Please let them go. Jovan’s eyes flicker to mine.

“These men,” he pauses as the crowd chants my name once more, “and the women.” He concedes.

I snort and quickly hold my breath as he stops and walks in front of the line again. I realize he’s working the crowd just as we do. Ironic.

“Will be spared!” he shouts to the crowd. The dome shakes with the people’s reaction.

And for the first time today they are not chanting my name, they are chanting their King’s.

We don’t even have time to celebrate our escape from death before we’re ordered toward the gates. I look over my shoulder to make sure Crystal is safe. Shard has her. Avalanche barely restrains Blizzard as two guards drag our friend’s body away. Ice watches until we are in the tunnels under the stadium and Flurry is out of sight.

We walk through the torch-lit passageways beneath the dome and are paraded in front of the assembly. Jovan breaks off from the front of the line and returns to his throne, ignoring me. I can sense his fury. It’s understandable considering the situation I just put him in. We made a mockery of his guards and his dome. Plus, there is all the rest I’ve put him through with escaping.

We leave the dome and continue marching. I have no idea where we’re going. I can’t believe we’re alive. Nearly all of us, and more than I’d dared to hope. My throat constricts as I think of Flurry. I wish it had been someone else. One of Sin’s men. It’s a horrible thought, but true never-the-less. The sky starts to darken and my wounds begin to throb. I have several of them. I can see blood dripping off Avalanche’s fingers.

There are whispers down the line. I peer around Sin’s frame and gasp when I see where we are. Why is Jovan bringing us here? Unfortunately, I know it’s my doing. Several of the other men do, too. I can see their darting glances. I recall the King’s specific words. He’d said we would be spared, not
released
.

The experience of entering this castle is almost identical to the first time I arrived in the Third Sector. The portcullis is raised and then lowered behind us. We are walked up the enormous stairs and through the imposing entrance. This time I’m not led through the archway to be judged by the King, and I’m not led up the stairway to my old isolated room.

This castle appears to be slightly different in its design. It’s more comfortable and there’s more decoration. Jovan’s mother must have done it in her lifetime. It was either her, or Arla. I didn’t particularly like the thought of Arla doing it. I doubted the rest of the female assembly would either.

“You. Woman.” I look at the Watchman barking at me and lift my eyebrows. Four men surround me and Crystal is shoved toward me. She looks up with panicked eyes and I remember the others will all be terrified, not having had any prior experience with the castle. I wish I could reassure her, but I’m worried for reasons of my own.

I wave at Shard as the men are led in a different direction.

“This way,” a guard says and shoves Crystal again. I grab her hand and hold it in an iron grip.

“We’ll follow. There’s no need to push,” I say and hold his gaze until he steps back. As promised, we follow them without resistance. They halt in front of a door and swing it open.

The problems start when I try to enter the room after Crystal.

“Not you,” the lead Watchman says.

I fold my arms across my chest. “Why not?”

The men exchange glances. One of them shrugs and looks baffled. I bite back a smile. On Osolis our guard is selected for their prowess with combat, but also for their initiative and problem solving ability. These skills are clearly not a prerequisite for the Watch.

“King’s orders,” one of them finally grunts beneath his helmet. I plant my feet at his reply. Crystal needs someone with her. The four Watchmen shuffle their feet. They’ve just seen me fight. They know exactly what I am capable of.

“Frost. It’s fine.
I’ll
be fine,” Crystal says. “Please…I’m sick of the fighting.” I look at her and see she’s barely holding back tears. I nod and move forward to hug her.

“You shouldn’t be alone after what happened, and then Flurry, too. Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I ask.

She nods into my shoulder. “Thank you so much. For everything.”

I’m led up to the second floor. I wonder if Arla and Macy sleep in the same rooms in this castle. I travel with my escort to the end of the hallway and then up a few stairs into a short passageway. There are only two rooms down this hallway. I’m left in the closest room.

It’s much nicer than my last room. Colorful drapes soften the pillars around the bed. An alcove, layered with bright cushions is situated in one corner. Another door lies to my right, but when I tug at the handle, I find it’s locked. A tub sits behind a screen. It’s like Fiona’s with the pyope beads underneath it for heating. I spin in a slow circle taking in the tapestries, the ornate wooden furniture, the intricate stone-work. After my shoebox in the barracks, this is a dream. I love it. Is this the guest room? I never believed the room I had occupied in the Third had been the dungeon, but it did seem that way compared to this splendor. The distraction of the room doesn’t last long. I lower myself onto a polished settee at the end of the bed, muscles aching - heart included.

Flurry’s gone.

Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. The excitement of the fight is leaving. My shoulders slump as I remember every hit and kick leading up to his death. What man had landed the killing blow? If I‘d kicked someone harder would Flurry still be alive?

At least I saved Malir’s life. And rid the world of two soulless men. I know we were lucky to have only lost one man, but it doesn’t feel that way.

A knock sounds at the door, causing me to frantically scrub at my face. I frown at the entrance when it doesn’t immediately open. Another, more insistent knock echoes through the room.

I stand and circle to the door, wondering if it’s a trick. I try the latch. To my astonishment, it opens. I hadn’t even bothered to try it, sure it would be locked. Apparently I’m not a prisoner. Is this the same for the other fighters? Or is this why I’ve been separated from them?

I stand, mouth open, as a parade of women enter. Garments are laid out on the bed. The tub is filled and the beads lit underneath. The screen is opened in front. I squeak as Sadra enters and sit frozen in shock as she tends to my left arm where Slay got beneath my guard. I wait for her to recognize me, for her to match the height of the Tatuma with the height of Frost. For her to match the Tatuma’s disappearance with Frost’s appearance. She doesn’t. I think my silence is putting her off. But Olina would certainly put her at ease. Frost wouldn’t give a damn.