CHAPTER 19
Perhaps it was the way Chase didn’t flinch when Malphic held the branding iron against his skin, or the way he protected the younger boys. But that child was different. I believe Malphic saw it, too.
—Susan Woodford Freemont
We slipped through the carpet and crept down the enclosed stairwell, our boots shushing against the stone treads. All around us, animal skulls studded the walls, their dark eyes and fanged jaws lit by glowing oil lamps. As we neared the stairwell’s mouth, the clang of metal and grunts grew louder, and the tang of the realm’s harsh air and bonfires filled my nose.
When I reached the last step, I held out my arm to stop Dad and Lotli. Cautiously, I walked out of the stairway’s protection and onto a broad landing that overlooked what couldn’t have been anything other than a training yard. Torches and fire pits flashed light across a maze of crowded fighting rings, some raised and others nothing more than worn spots in the dirt. Low, barrack-like buildings enclosed what I could see of the yard. Everywhere, dozens of boys—shirtless, skinny, and dirty with long, scraggly hair and sunburned skin—wrestled, boxed, or sparred with staffs and swords. Men and older teenagers shouted at them, jeering and giving sharp commands. Servants and eunuchs scurried through the haze of smoke and eerie light.
Chase had told me the daylight hours in the realm were too hot even for the genies’ fiery nature to do anything except rest. At night, their natural heat mixed with adrenaline, amplifying their abilities, as well as those of the half-genie slaves. Still, it was surreal to witness, bizarre and barbaric, like Attila the Hun might step out at any moment and announce a challenge.
But it is real, I reminded myself. It was also where Chase had grown up. This was his childhood. Kidnapped. Branded as a slave. Fighting to survive.
A deep sadness pressed against my chest. One time, Tibbs had talked to me about Chase’s life before he escaped and came to Moonhill.
Tibbs’s hands had stilled. “He fakes it real good, but Chase doesn’t get the same stuff we do, inside jokes about old TV shows or movies. He didn’t listen to the same music we did, snap selfies, or do any of the stuff normal kids did. He grew up training and watching friends die because they weren’t good enough. He grew up protecting people.”
That day, what Tibbs said only partly sunk in. But I hadn’t seen this yet.
“Impressive,” Lotli said, coming up beside me. “Yes, very much.”
Dad rested a hand on my shoulder. “I doubt Chase is down there, but you should try your egg to be sure, before we take off to find your mother.”
Lotli tsked. “No need for magic tricks. You may not see him. But we feel his presence.”
“Of course you do,” I said tartly.
She wet her lips. “We are surprised you don’t.”
Heat roared through my body, my anger a million hot spikes. I gritted my teeth. Evil bitch.
Dad squeezed my shoulder. “You all right?”
“Fine,” I snapped. “Let’s get going.”
His grip tightened. “First, I need both of you to promise you’ll let me do all the talking from here on out. We don’t need your womanly voices giving us away, eunuch doesn’t necessarily equal feminine. Agreed?”
“We agree,” Lotli whispered demurely.
“Yeah,” I said, wriggling from his grip.
He raised a finger, signaling he wasn’t done. “If we get separated or something worse happens, come back here. With its wards broken, the inner sanctum weak point is our best chance for escape. Understand?”
I nodded that I did. But there were a lot of ifs involved with escaping here or anywhere for that matter. If Malphic or his magi didn’t notice the broken wards and restore them. If we weren’t detected and lived to make it back to here . . . Ifs and more ifs that none of us could afford to think about at this point.
I strode away from Dad and Lotli toward a set of wide stairs that led down to ground level and the entry to the training yard. But I forced myself to stop and let them catch up. I couldn’t let my worries, or my temper for that matter, make me stupid. I was better than that. I had to be.
Together, we headed down. As Dad had pointed out, Lotli and I needed to be careful about talking, but that wasn’t the only thing. Olya had padded the shoulders of our robes. Our boots had thick soles and heels to make us taller. Of course our eyes were shadowed with kohl. Still I came across as a particularly small guy, and Lotli looked more like a boy. All we could do was hope we’d fade into the background of eunuchs and servants in general.
“Looks like your pendulum was right,” Dad said, nodding at a colonnade to our left and in the opposite direction than the training yard. It was clear now that we’d descended from a squatty tower that sat atop the colonnade. Just beyond it was the horseshoe-shaped arena where I’d broken the egg and Chase had been forced to fight. Past that, the ornate spires and domed rooftops of Malphic’s main palace rose, ghostly light glowing behind its curtained windows. As the egg had indicated on my palm, we were outside the part of the fortress I was familiar with.
“Chase is that way.” Lotli jutted her hood toward the yard.
I resisted the urge to remind her that we’d planned to get Mother first. The truth was, both my heart and pulse were screaming to find Chase.
Dad put a finger to his lips and bowed his head as a group of servants carrying bottles of wine and bowls of shriveled mushrooms and half-rotted apples hurried past us into the training yard. Once they were a few footsteps ahead, he whispered, “Since we’re so close, we should at least locate Chase.” Then he took off, leading us into the yard, like we were just another group of servants.
Two brown-robed eunuchs rushed by us, their arms weighted down with blood-splattered clothing. When we passed a group of buckets filled with water, Dad snatched one by the handle. Good idea. It would make it look like we were on our way to do something specific. I grabbed another with a rag draped over its side.
Lotli’s hood brushed against mine. “A slop bucket. Suits you,” she snickered, too low to travel beyond my ear. Her voice took on a dangerous edge. “Remember. He belongs to me. . . .”
As her voice trailed off, a shooting pain slammed into my belly, agony ricocheting through my guts and down my legs. I hunched over, my fingers tightening around the bucket handle as I rode out the spasms. I wanted so badly to swing the bucket at her head. Drop her in her tracks. But I couldn’t call attention to us, or we’d all be dead. Not just me or her. But Dad, Mother, and Chase as well.
“Forsake,” she whispered. And the pain vanished, totally and in an instant.
“Screw you,” I spat. But she knew I would do as promised. She knew I didn’t have a choice.
I lengthened my strides, leaving her behind, moving ahead of Dad as well, past teams of naked boys wrestling on the ground. Bruises mottled their faces and bodies. Some had fresh gaping wounds. Others’ knuckles were wrapped in cloth, dirty and bloodied. All had brands on their collarbones, the youngest ones still pink, the older ones scarred over. Slave brands like Chase’s. I longed to locate him, and get this over with. But in a way, I hoped he wasn’t here. Finding him after Mother would give Lotli less time to screw with his head. I didn’t want to confuse him. I didn’t want him to think I didn’t care.
A dull headache throbbed at the front of my skull, and anger, frustration, longing, desperation—every emotion in the book—boiled inside me.
On a stone platform, a pair of teenage girls punched and kicked a boy whose hands were tied behind his back. Blood ran from his nostrils and speckled his ripped tunic. Shadow-genies and werewolf-like lealaps circled around cheering. Nearby, a man reprimanded a boy. The marks on the man’s body glowed like blue fire. Scars cross-thatched his face. The lower half of his body whirlwinded into a cyclone, and he slammed his fist into the boy’s neck. The boy dropped to the ground, vomiting. “Defend yourself, little bastard, or I’ll kill you,” the man snarled.
Dad started toward them. Holding tight to my bucket, I snagged his arm with my free hand and turned both of us away from the sight. But I could still hear the squelch of the man’s fist hitting flesh, hear the retching and smell blood and vomit—
My body went numb. I stopped walking and stared. On the farthest end of the yard near what most likely was the fortress’s massive outer wall, a blue glow burst upward from a large well or cistern. At least that’s how it appeared. It was hard to tell through the crowd and haze.
Adrenaline coursed into my veins. Could it be? Was it Chase’s aura?
I let go of Dad and hurried toward the well, the water in my pail sloshing. In a second, Dad and Lotli caught up with me. This time it was Dad snagging my arm to hold me back. “Be careful,” he whispered.
Sweat drizzled down my face, stinging my eyes. “It’s him. I know it.”
“Yes, it is,” Lotli purred.
We weaved through the crowd. Once we got closer, I could see the well was about twenty feet across with a waist-high stone wall surrounding it and an iron grate overtop. The blue light flared up though the grate’s bars, strobing like heat lightning.
A group of teenage boys in short, grubby tunics banged on the bars.
“Kill him!” one of them shouted.
Another shook his fists. “Use your knife! Gut him.”
Two women my age with swords strapped to their backs gazed downward, whispering to each other. I wormed my way in next to them and caught a few words.
“Satan’s balls, he’s as crazy as a stallion,” one of them said.
The other one giggled. “I’d ride him—even if he goes berserk.”
I set my bucket down and leaned over. In effect the grate was the top of a tall, narrow cage. Twenty or maybe thirty feet down, two shirtless men were fighting. Swirls of glowing marks covered their skin, brightening and dimming like heartbeats. Dirt and blood caked their arms and shoulders. The larger man leapt onto the cage’s bars, his long black braid snaking out behind him as he screamed like a banshee and cartwheeled back down, dagger glinting in his hand. The other man growled and spun, flowing white pants flaring, fist catching the larger man off guard. My heart screamed that he was Chase, but I couldn’t see him well enough to be sure.
A flash of firelight struck his face, and I was certain. Chase. Eyes wild. Blood trailing from his nose and mouth.
Lotli’s fingernails dug into my wrist. “Hurry. We must help him.”
She let go of me, snatched my bucket, and fled away from the hole. Dad gave me a puzzled look, but I didn’t take the time to answer. I gathered up the hem of my robe and sprinted after her. No matter how much I hated her, I knew hate wasn’t what she felt for Chase. She was up to something. Something that would help him.