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.”
I blink. Why had no one told me this? “Does it happen often?”
She shrugs her dainty shoulders again. “Once or twice a revolution.”
I let out a slow breath. Odds are this won’t affect me before I leave.
As our group leaves for the pit, Alzona brings me what she calls my “uniform”. I almost refuse when I see it, despite the hard glint in her eyes. Several thoughts stop me. One is the knowledge even the Bruma are comfortable with nudity, so technically I should be, too. Only a Solati would be uncomfortable with revealing so much skin, as we tended to wear long robes. Plus, the leather garment looks like it will cover most of the important parts.
I tug the top on as we walk. It dips down in a V over my chest and stops above my navel. I make sure to fasten the laces extra tight. My trousers are nearly the same as the men’s. Their leather is stitched, though, while mine laces up the sides, a strip of skin showing all the way down. It seems a bit unfair. Their tunics are leather, too, and sleeveless, but they’re full length. I’m not sure why my stomach has to be bare when theirs is covered. But at least the black material is supple and moves easily with my body.
We take a different route than yesterday, winding further into the depths of the ring until I give up trying to memorize our route.
We eventually stop outside an inconspicuous building. If it can be called that. Crystal grins at my doubtful expression. There’s no way all of the competitors are inside this space. And I thought there was some kind of audience, too. Do we go in one at a time? Or maybe we’re stopping for supplies.
“Just wait,” Crystal says.
Blizzard shoots me a glance and mutters under his breath, turning to glower at Alzona. He’s still against my fighting, though I’ve proven my ability several times. I’m not quite sure what the source of his anger is.
Alzona knocks five times and the door to the rundown structure cracks open. She stoops to talk in a low tone to the person on the other side.
The door swings open. “Late agen. We was this close to startin’ without yous.” The toothless man holds his thumb and what remains of his forefinger together in an indication of just how close we had been to missing out.
“Just think of it as building anticipation,” Alzona says, brushing his complaints aside.
We cram into a tight space and the hobbling man elbows through our muscled huddle after shutting the door. He slides against me as he does, eyeing the deep crease in the middle of my chest. A horrible stench reaches my nostrils and I know the revulsion shows on my face.
Blizzard’s hand clamps down on the vile man’s shoulder. “Keep walking, friend.” His tone is almost conversational. The man shoots the heavily muscled fighter a nervous, gummy smile and hurries onward to the far wall. Why is Blizzard suddenly protecting me?
I watch to see what the gnarled doorman does next, but he hides the movement of his hands. Then, with a groan, a section of the heavy stone wall slides forward. The man heaves it open and as he does, a distant cheering fills the small room.
“Quickly in, quickly!” The man frets, waving an impatient hand at us. We file in. Blizzard takes his time. We trail down the stained and stinking steps in silence. Water drips from the ceiling, making the way slippery. The roaring of the crowds grows steadily louder and I strain my ears to hear what they are saying. I’m just about to ask when we’ll get there, when the stairway opens and I get my first glimpse at the pit. Shard nudges me. I look at him and he glances down at my mouth. I snap it shut with a sheepish look.
I take care my mouth doesn’t drop open again as I look around me. It sure wants to. We’ve been walking down the stairs for so long I was sure we’d be at the bottom somehow. Actually, I’m not really sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. We’re now at the top of an enormous circular arena. And from the sound echoing off the torch-lit, curved interior, I know it must go deeper still. A thick crowd leans against a low barrier which travels the circumference of the landing we are on, keeping them from falling over the edge. People push to the front, while those already against the balustrade crane their necks to look over the side. Avalanche rips three men back from the barrier and throws them on the ground so we can get a view. The men scurry off when they see him.
I move up to the edge making sure to keep my hands off the slimy looking support which the Bruma around me seem so eager to brush up against. I look over the side with a gasp. I’d known from the echoes the space went deeper, but not that deep.
There are levels upon levels here. I count six of them.
“How is this possible?” I say to no one in particular.
Shard answers anyway. “There were natural caves here once. The rest was made around fifty years ago.”
This must have taken a lifetime to create. I peek over the side again. At the bottom I can see the pit. It’s tiny from up here. Two men are inside. Each stripped down to their trousers. One is covered with blood. I can see their movements, but cannot tell much more from here.
I look around the landing I’m on, and my immediate curiosity is assuaged. Many of the women are bare-chested. Are they whores, or is this normal? I don’t dare stare into the shadows of the columns. I learned that lesson yesterday. The men up here are dressed like the hobbling man we met at the door. Some have a few teeth, most are unwashed and wearing tattered rags, and they all seem to have a drink in their hand. Two men move closer to me. I look around for the others and find them halfway down to the next section. Avalanche is looking over his shoulder and beckoning me. I hurry to catch up.
We wind downward. I’ve counted right. There are six levels. The people on the fifth landing, below where we just stood, are notably wealthier than those above them. It continues in this trend. On the second level, the most prosperous looking Bruma pass coin between one another from their bright cushioned seating. Two men close to the stairs smash their goblets together, spilling the contents all over a scantily clad girl. They laugh uproariously, earning a glare from Ice as he pushes past.
The bottom level is a different story. I already know what it’s called because it featured in many of Blizzard’s stories. It’s called The Cells.
The Cells are filled with leather-clad men. Some are warming up. Others are wrapping their hands. One man lies bloodied on the floor while another mops his face. I realize there are separate groups, small spaces between each of them. Each barrack must have its own area. Alzona heads toward the last empty bench. Overall, it’s not so bad.
“I thought the whore had finally given up,” a loud voice says behind us. Perhaps I spoke too soon.
This can’t be the first time Alzona’s heard this type of remark because her reaction is instant.
“And I thought the fuckwit had gotten some new insults. What a pity.” She turns around to face a seedy-looking man, who observes our group with a mocking expression on his face. His eyes glitter at Alzona’s words, but he doesn’t respond. His gaze comes to rest on me, moving down my body. My stomach lurches as I notice his leering eyes. I wouldn’t meet this man in a dark alley for anything. Even a new veil.
“And who’ve we got here? Save another whore?” He flicks his eyes to Crystal who blushes the same color as the strawberry undertones of her hair. But it’s more than that. She looks utterly terrified. Alzona steps forward, but Crystal whips out a hand and grabs her wrist.
Shard doesn’t look up from where he sits, untying his boots. “She’s our newest fighter, Hale,” he says.
“Your newest…?” The cruel man named Hale stares, apparently struck speechless. Then he throws back his head and roars with laughter. He turns to his comrades.
“You’ll be fighting a bitch today, boys,” he yells. Those who can hear him share looks of disbelief, others burst into outright laughter.
“The slut is trying to make a joke of us all!” he says. The groups around us start to pass word around the Cells. Laughter spreads throughout the entire place. I can see some of the fighters from Tricks’ compound shaking their heads, but they don’t laugh. My face flames, and I hold my head high, staring straight at the thin man. I ignore the jeering stares of the fighting males who are coming around to gawk at me.
“Look at those tits!”
“I’ll tell you what darlin’, give me a romp and I’ll let you win!”
“Look at that face boys cause it won’t be long til she’s missin’ some of ‘er teeth!” People in the levels above are craning their heads to see what all the laughter is about.
I want to sink into the floor and somehow arrive at the castle, in my bed, covered with furs.
Alzona steps up to the skinny man. “Well, if she’s such a puny female, you’ll have no problem putting her up against Crush.”
Some of the fighters hush. Most laugh even louder at her words. Crystal gulps audibly.
“She serious?” one of the men close to Hale asks.
Hale looks at her with narrowed eyes. Then at me for a long moment. My eyes start to burn with my mortified tears. His frame blurs.
He smirks at me and spits on his hand, holding it out to Alzona. Without hesitation, she spits on her own hand and grips his. It’s gross enough to shock me through my embarrassment.
“You gotta deal. There’s a slot in three fights,” he says.