Fantasy of Flight (2 page)

Prince Kedrick had been one of the peace delegates from Glacium, our neighboring world, with whom we held a tenuous peace. Every three years, or revolution, our worlds would alternate in sending twelve delegates to the other world to refresh and renegotiate the treaty. It’s the only contact between our worlds and despite the passing of nearly thirty-three revolutions, since the war, this limited communication is barely tolerated by either side. Our people are too different, according to popular belief. The Bruma are too crude, the Solati are too conservative. I have my own, less popular views on the subject, which Kedrick had shared. Even my brother, Olandon, would be beyond shocked to hear the extent of my plans for when I became Tatum. If that future was still an option for me. I didn’t know anymore.

I have a strong pang in my heart, hoping Olandon is safe. I have an occasional fear my mother may have turned her ire on him in my absence. I don’t think it’s probable. The Tatum has always nursed a particular hatred towards me. By which I mean, she loathed me, beat me, and ridiculed me from birth. Her abuse only stopped when I was taken hostage by the eleven remaining Bruma after Kedrick’s murder. Even now the after effects of my mistreatment haven’t fully disappeared. I’m not sure I even know the extent to which I’m affected, or if I’ll ever truly be free of her.

I discovered the reason for her abhorrence when I summoned enough courage to overcome my phobia and remove the dark veil for the first time in my life.

I have blue eyes. A typical trademark of the inhabitants of Glacium and a color no Solati should possess, especially not the Tatuma - the next in line. My eyes are proof mother did something she shouldn’t have. She must have slept with one of the peace delegates during treaty negotiations. It was the only explanation for my eyes and her hatred for me.

I’ve counted the delegation years over and over again, but my age simply doesn’t work out. I am now over six revolutions old, or eighteen and a half. Meaning I was conceived between delegation visits. I must be younger or older than I’ve been told. Or maybe mother somehow met with the Bruma delegate between revolutions. This seems unlikely. Though no less unlikely than my mother sleeping with a savage in the first place - savage is her favorite term for the people of Glacium.

Trying to work it out makes my head spin and I wish Olandon was here to figure it out. He’s better with numbers. This will mean I actually have to tell him my secret first. Only King Jovan, the Tatum and myself, know. Suffice to say, if word gets out, it will throw Osolis into anarchy. The Solati will not yield to a ruler who has interbred, or a ruler who looks like a Bruma.

Eventually, I’ll need to figure out who the delegation members were on either side of my birth. If King Jovan doesn’t lock me up when I return, I’ll ask for access to their archives. This is a big “if”. The King left for a month-long tour before I ran away. Even if he wasn’t tracked down when I first escaped, he definitely knows of my disappearance by now. The thought of his fury when I inevitably return, keeps me awake some nights. Most days I expect him to break down the compound doors and drag me back. In some ways the Glacium ruler is exactly what I envisioned before arriving on this cold world. He was intimidating, strong and fierce, though, over time I discovered an entirely different, almost protective side to him. I doubt this protective side will save me when we meet again.

I listen to the lingering sound of strumming over Flurry’s snores. I will find the murderer and then go back to my responsibilities and position. Jovan can’t be too angry when he sees what I’ve found. After all, Kedrick was his brother.

I’ll be back at the castle soon.

I just have to win a few fights first.

Fighters are not to train the day before entering the rings. Another rule, but one I agree with. I doubt our health is Alzona’s motivation behind it, more likely the risk of losing her money if we’re in bad shape. She is a business woman through and through. I suppose she did warn me the first night.

Ice is talking to Crystal, who looks uncomfortable with the attention. The barracks talk amongst each other while they eat, ignoring me. If I thought I might be accepted after training with the men, I was mistaken.

“Shard, I need you to take me to Tricks’.” Alzona doesn’t look up from her papers as she makes the request. “You can have the afternoon off instead.”

Shard nods as if this is no new occurrence. The others don’t seem interested in their exchange. The others must be leaving the compound and going somewhere in the Outer Rings. This would be the safest opportunity to get my bearings for when I begin my search. It was a maze when I ran through it the first night. I had assumed the poorest area would be similar to the villages on Osolis, where the spaces were open, children ran around laughing and you could stroll through unmolested. To say I miscalculated the perils on the Outer Rings is an understatement, but I expect they will make more sense in daylight.

I clear my throat. No one looks up except Crystal, who scans the table, waiting for the others to respond. She grins at me when they don’t.

“May I also accompany you outside?” I ask, trying to keep my expression and voice neutral.

“What does accompany mean?” Flurry whispers to Ice.

I don’t try to alter what I’ve said, though I feel my warm cheeks betraying me. I don’t want to draw more attention to the slip. Alzona looks down at me from her position at the head of the table. Her head tilts to the side, dark hair flowing free, as she assesses me.

She grins. It’s not a nice smile, like Crystal’s had been a moment before. “Why not,” she says.

I rifle through my pack back in my closet room. My hands pause. The others will be staying here while I leave the compound. I look down at the incriminating contents of the pack. One ruined veil, one broken arrow and clothing of the highest quality. Much better quality than the grey tunic and trousers issued to me, like the others wore. Even the clothes I’ve seen the men wear on their days off are threadbare. What if someone looks in my room while I’m out? Namely, Ice. I hesitate, examining the room for hiding places.

I take out the tattered black material and briefly study the large tears in it, remembering the night it happened. The gang of men who attacked me planned to sell me into the sex trade. Now all of them were dead and their gold was mine. I rip a sizeable hole in the mattress corner, shoving the veil’s remains inside. I pull on my most worn set of trousers and leave my training tunic on, forgoing the shining fur coat. The chill of the First is nothing like the bone-freezing temperature in the Third. I’m sure I can handle a few hours. I shove the rest of my belongings – clothing I will not need today – beneath the mattress. The arrow, my most incriminating possession, goes down into the side of my polished boots.

The others are waiting at the entrance to the compound. No, not a compound. The others call it the barracks. I should start doing the same.

“Finally,” Alzona says. She turns to unlock the first of the gates. Crystal follows her outside

Shard gives my trousers a cursory glance and follows the two women out the door. I release my held breath and hurry to catch up. My clothing passed inspection.

The echoing confines of the barracks seem almost home-like compared to the dark alley leading to the main walkway. The high walls block any thin light which might otherwise have reached the Outer Rings. It takes several minutes to get to the uneven cobbled pathways. The narrow lane is crammed full of the poor and the sick. People litter the street and it takes all my willpower not to cover my nose against the smell. Shops selling who knows what have been set up in the empty ruins running down each side of the street. Curious, I peer down every alleyway we pass, eager to get a mental map of the area. I glance down another and see someone sleeping there. But there is something odd about how he is lying. I look again at the crumpled man and see blood stains. I gasp and stagger back into someone.

“Watch et, girly.” I back away from the towering man, stammering an apology. In doing so, I step on a booted foot and receive another angry threat. Shard drags me away from the mess I’ve created.

There are starving, homeless people on the side of the street. But this mass of Bruma are shoving and elbowing each other. Why are they behaving this way? A man with black ink all over his face kicks a child asking for coin. I am sickened to my bones.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Shard whispers in my ear.

“Why do they do this?” I ask.

He appears perplexed for a moment, confused about my comment. Then he seems to recall something, as though dredging up a memory from long ago.

“Because each of them is on the brink of survival,” he says and looks sideways at me. “You still look shocked.”

I erase my expression, aiming for boredom instead. Shard gives my face another glance and shakes his head.

The constricted lane explodes into a bigger area, a kind of courtyard. The main feature is a tall building. It wouldn’t stand out at all, except for the barely clothed women draped along the balconies, windows and doorways. The women’s expressions – and some girl’s too – are broken. They are past despair. I bump into Crystal and tear my eyes away. I know what the place is. It’s where I would have ended up if the whorehounds had captured me.

For the first time since meeting Alzona, I realize how grateful I should be.  I wonder if this is why she let me come today – if this was an attempt to keep her investment from running away. I wasn’t stupid. My month of isolated training, while supposedly allowing me to heal, was also a design to keep an eye on me. She knew I was a flight risk. Well, she made her point today; if I left the barracks without a veil, I would become one of the nameless dead in a dark corner, or a vacant-eyed woman groped by every passing man.

I have rarely seen such horrors in my life and usually they’re happening to me, not others. By the time I see a similar, studded building up ahead, I’m struggling to keep my reaction at bay. Tears balance at the edges of my eyes. I stride ahead of Shard so he doesn’t see and place my hand on the crumbling wall of the ruin next to me. I focus on the coarse texture under my fingertips until the tears retreat. It is a useful trick Aquin showed me when I was a child, before I learned crying doesn’t get you anywhere in life.

I open my eyes.

The others wait ahead of me, watching. Alzona has her arms folded across her chest and looks at me with a knowing expression.

“What?” I snap.

She arches her brow. “Handled it better than most.” She turns around and bangs on a massive door. The first of many, if it is anything like our barracks.

The door swings open after a long delay. A frowning man fills the frame, but his expression changes the instant he sees Alzona. “I knew it would be you, crazy lady. How you keeping, Zona? Ready to marry me yet?” he asks. It’s the worst proposal I could imagine. Is he serious?

Alzona laughs. “No, Tricks, not yet. I wanted to talk about the fights tomorrow.”

The smile drops from his face. In a second he goes from pleasure to business. He launches into a discussion with Alzona while waving the four of us inside with a dramatic gesture. His eyes move over me, evaluating my value, before snapping back to focus on their conversation.

I listen with half an ear, but most of my attention is on my surroundings. This man’s place is much bigger than ours. It looks much more comfortable. His fighters must do well. 

He leads us through to the back of the building.

“Wait here.” He opens the door and shuts it behind him.

“Stop what you’re doing, boys. We’ve got company!” His yell is heard clearly through the wall. He opens the door again and waves us inside once more.

“What’s wrong, Tricks? You afraid of us?” Alzona asks, smiling widely at him. I can’t tell if she’s being genuine or not. Is this man important enough for her to put on a smile? Or does she genuinely like him? Crystal and Shard seem relaxed enough. I guess he’s a friend.

“Can’t have you knowing all my secrets, m’love. It would ruin my mysterious reputation.” He adds a wink to the flirtatious words. I share a quick smile with Crystal.

Their gymnasium is in keeping with the quality of the rest of the barracks. The equipment is vastly better. There is double the amount of fighters and every one of them is sweating. Something I’ve only seen Shard and myself do in Alzona’s barracks so far.

“Who’s the fresh meat, Shard?” someone calls out.

I look in the direction of the voice and am rewarded with a glimpse of the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He looks me up and down slowly, gives me an unhurried smile. I turn my head away to hide my face.

“Our newest fighter,” Shard says.

This causes a commotion. I can tell most of the fighters think the idea is ridiculous. Tricks gives them a sharp look which shuts them up instantly. Afterward, the owner evaluates me a second time.

Another man whistles. “Hey, does she have a nice little snow name like the rest of you?” His tone is still teasing, but has an edge to it which the first mans didn’t have.

“Yes,” Shard says. Alzona looks at him, eyebrows raised. I do the same.

He looks at me and smiles. But there’s a challenge in his eyes. “Her name is Frost.”

I know my eyes reflect sleepless night as I sit down at the table the next morning. At least some of the others have the same signs. I’m more nervous about the fight today than I expected. My spirits lift a little when I see nerves haven’t affected Avalanche’s appetite in the slightest. It’s nice to know someone isn’t worried. Or perhaps he just doesn’t want to die hungry.

After breakfast, I follow Crystal to the room off the gym where she does her work. She hears me approaching and lets out a long sigh when she sees it’s me.

“Why do I always get cornered?” she asks the room.

“Because Alzona is terrifying,” I say. Crystal chuckles, not disagreeing.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” I say. She looks up at the ceiling to collect her thoughts. And I catch myself wondering how a beautiful girl like herself ended up in the barracks. Her friendship with Alzona led me to believe she’d been here a long time. Why did Alzona take her in when Crystal was unable to fight? I entertain the thought Alzona could have a heart. The thought is fleeting. It’s more likely they were friends before coming to the Outer Rings.

“You’ll be put into the pit with competitors from different barracks around the Outer Ring. They come from all sectors,” she begins. “This time, the pit is in our sector. The location changes so it’s harder for the Watchmen to catch us.”

I look at her sharply. “Watchmen?”

“From the castle,” she clarifies slowly. “They flush out the arena and capture as many of the fighters they can.”

I wish I could ask more, but I catch her bemused expression. This is something a Bruma would know. Alzona, Crystal and the men probably think I come from one of the other, more prosperous parts of Glacium - the Middle or Inner circles. I don’t care where on Glacium they assume I’m from, as long as they don’t discover I’m Solati. As long as I keep slip-ups like this to a minimum, my eye color will protect me. Ironic, considering it has been the basis for nearly all the pain in my life so far.

“Oh…yeah,” I say lamely. “Bad sleep, sorry.”

She gives me a sympathetic look. “Alzona organizes matches with the other owners. You’ll be up against someone of…your own level. Fights are always arranged, except for the big tournaments between all ten barracks. Then a draw is made up. But that’s not for another few months.”

It was the first I’d heard of the tournament. “Where do we usually place in this?” I ask. Crystal doesn’t say anything, but her blush gives me the answer.

“Oh,” I say. Obviously, last. The news is not surprising, but it does make me anxious about fighting today. I was fairly confident after beating most of the men here. But it sounds as though the other barracks are better.

“You can see why she’s so hard on you all,” she says, referring to Alzona.

I shrug. I see the workouts the men do. The majority stand around for most of the session, talking. Only Shard and Blizzard seem half serious about training. Really, Alzona is not as strict as she should be ─ if you ask me.

“Do all the fights end with a knockout?” I ask. Many of Blizzards favorite stories ended with a person dying.

Crystal gives the door a hasty glance. “Was that Zona calling me?”

I didn’t hear a sound. I narrow my eyes at her. “Crystal,” I say in a warning tone.

She sits back down and puffs her cheeks out. “Fine! I don’t know why they haven’t told you yet anyway.” She pulls her hair back and ties it in a tight bun with a bit of fabric. It’s a dark, stretchy material. Not the kind I need for my veil, unless I want to walk into every building between here and the castle.

“
Most
of the time the fighting is only until a knockout. But sometimes a punch or a kick ends up deadly, or the opposition falls at a funny angle to the ground.” She shrugs. “Sometimes the fighters do it on purpose, if it gets personal.”