Allie's War Season One (93 page)

Smiling, I kicked him in the face.

Guess it’s been awhile for you, too...
I sent.

I punched him again, and he fell to his back. I circled him once, getting in another hit and two more kicks before I backed off, letting him climb to his feet.

I gave him a taunting smile, but he didn’t return it, or even look angry. Instead, his eyes had a focus in them I’d never seen. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was fighting for his life.

“Jesus,” I said. “Just how much money do you have on this fight?”

Yerin cleared his throat. “Open format. Grappling and sweeps.” He looked at me, his eyes worried. “I’m sorry, Alyson...I have to call it. You’ve got eighteen.”

I blinked at Yerin, unclear why he was apologizing.

When I turned back...

Maygar punched me in the face. He moved so quietly I hadn’t felt him. He swept my leg in the same heartbeat, knocking me flat. I landed on my back, the wind knocked out of me. I threw my hands behind my head to jump to my feet...but he landed on my middle, sitting astride me. He grabbed my arms where I’d reached back, pinning me.

“What if I claim you?” he said, panting.

Furious that I’d been so stupid, I struggled before meeting his gaze. A strange light had come to his eyes. I felt his aleimi suddenly, snaking around me. He wasn’t just pulling on the tap; he was doing the equivalent of feeling me up with his light.

Bucking my body, I struggled to get him off, but he held me there, fighting his way to my wrists despite my squirming, pinning me to the dirt.

“He’s not even here to argue it...” he said, quieter.

Maygar looked down at my body. I tried to head-butt him, but he moved out of the way. His smile faded. Leaning closer, he held me down with his chest. He caressed my face with his, kissing my neck, then my cheek.

I froze, stopped breathing.

I would never have refused you, Allie...

I stared up at him in shock.

Kissing my face again, caressing it with his fingers, he raised his head, looking around at the rest of the crowd.

“He hasn’t consummated,” he said loudly. “I have the right.” He scanned faces, looking for dissent. “There are witnesses...many. You all heard her ask and saw him refuse her. Does anyone dispute that I have the right?”

I stared around at the others, trying to regain my breath, gripping his wrist in one hand, doing my best to dig my nails into his skin, to get him off.

Then his words really sank in.

I didn’t understand, not really, not any more than I understood about half of the seer rules and customs thrown my way, but it struck me that he’d planned this, that there was something happening here that had nothing to do with the reasons he’d given me for the fight. Worse, he had accomplices.

I tried again to kick him off. Given that he weighed about a hundred pounds more than me, all of it muscle, my attempts were futile...and only seemed to reinforce my helplessness under him. Normally, my strategy with sweeps went something like this, “Don’t get knocked down.”

I stared up at Yerin, panting. “Yerin! You’re judging this. I surrender. He’s won—”

Maygar punched me in the face, hard.

Shock silenced me, as much as the blow. My head rolled on my neck.

“I don’t accept,” he said. “We said play until twenty. Five point spread. That’s only seventeen for me...” His voice grew cold. “You have eighteen, Bridge. You can’t surrender...I have six more hits before it’s done.”

When I could focus my eyes again, I stared up at him, bewildered, still dazed from the hit. Seers weren’t exactly chivalrous when they fought. You could hit a downed or pinned opponent...in fact, it was pretty much expected. Even so, I’d never had anyone refuse to let me tap out before hitting the point spread.

I realized suddenly, what he was doing. He was keeping the coercion part of this legal somehow, doing it within the auspices of a fight. I stared up at him in disbelief, still fighting to process what my brain had already figured out.

“You wouldn’t,” I said to him.

Maygar stared back at me, all the humor in his face gone.

Holding my wrists in one hand, he caressed my face until I jerked away. His eyes shone dark and hard, a hunter’s eyes, and I realized I was in trouble.

My commander’s voice returned.

“Game over,” I said. “And I’m not laughing. Get him the
fuck
off me!” I looked around at the watching seers. “Now! That’s an order!”

The faces staring down at me paled, but none of the seers moved.

“What is this?” I demanded. “Gang rape? Are you a bunch of animals now?”

“He has the right, Alyson,” Yerin said.

I swiveled my head, staring at Yerin in disbelief. “What is this?” I stared around at these people, many of whom I’d begun to think of as my friends.

I looked for Jon and Cass. I saw them on the sidelines, being held by seers. Jon’s eyes were glazed, not-home, the same with Cass, but I saw Cass’ hand on her sidearm, as if she’d realized something was wrong right before they knocked her out.

They’d imprisoned my damned friends...like common worms.

Fighting a rage that boiled up through my limbs, I struggled. I looked for Chandre, but didn’t see her. I didn’t see Grent, Tenzi or Balidor, either. I looked back at Yerin, trying reason, knowing it was the only thing that would work on him.

“You can’t subject me to a custom I know nothing about...you can’t...” I fought Maygar’s hands. “Where’s Vash? He’s the keeper of custom, isn’t he? I have the right of contest, don’t I? At least
ask
him...”

I reached out my light but Maygar blocked me, preventing my scan for Vash.

In desperation, I reached for Revik...

...and Maygar slammed me with his light.

He hit me hard enough that I nearly blacked out.

When I opened my eyes, blood trickled from my nose; I tasted it in my mouth. I sent another flare, trying to reach Revik again. Maygar blocked it, slamming my light again and I gasped, tasting more blood.

“He broke the rules...” I gasped. “Taps only, no damage...”

“She’s right,” Yerin said to Maygar, sounding worried. “Don’t do that again. We’ll shield her from him, if it’s necessary...”

I stared at the circle of faces, realized none of them would help me.

“I’ll be a good husband to you,” Maygar said. .
..better than him.

He shifted his weight...and I felt his erection pressing against my belly, hard enough and deliberate enough that it couldn’t be a mistake.

Letting out a yell, I fought him, still in disbelief as he unhooked his belt.

He slid his hand under my shirt...and I fought harder, shrieking.

I pleaded with him when I couldn’t get him off, but he pinned me with his body, arm and legs. He was breathing harder. Sweat had formed on his forehead and upper lip. Pushing up my shirt, he caressed my skin, putting light into his fingers, pulling on mine. He kissed my breast, putting light into his tongue.

The same hand slid into my pants, between my legs.

Yelling out in disbelief, I screamed, trying harder to writhe away.

He pulled on my aleimi through the tap, holding me still, and my light responded without my willing it. Pain coursed through me, nearly blinding.

His fingers were inside me then and I cried out, begging the others to stop him. I heard him groan, felt his other hand tighten on me as his weight grew heavy. He stopped what he was doing long enough to untie my pants, forcing them down over my hips, his hands suddenly urgent.

Panic exploded in my chest. Something in me ripped open. I couldn’t see.

My light flared around me. There was a folding sensation...

...And then the weight on me was gone.

I heard yells somewhere in the back of my mind. I heard excited voices as I scrambled to my feet. I couldn’t see...light blinded me, and yet I felt drained of light, too, almost drunk without it. I tied up my pants, fingers fumbling with the knots, my nose still bleeding. I saw blurred faces as they backed away from me.

Then I ran. I dodged through bodies to get out of the sparring circle, out of the crowd, then out of the courtyard. Once I broke free I sprinted as fast as I could, not into the compound where they might trap me again, but through the garden, jumping over benches and weaving to avoid trees, throwing myself down the hill at the garden’s edge and half sliding, half running down the steep, weeded bank.

I heard someone call my name, but I only ran faster, until all I could hear was blood pumping in my ears and the sound of my feet through grass and gravel on the street below. I ran between buildings until I met another entrance to the trees...then I sprinted as hard as I could up the sloped dirt path leading into the forest.

I ran and ran, until I couldn’t breathe, feeling air cut my throat as branches whipped past, and when I finally stopped, I didn’t know where I was anymore.

BALIDOR HEARD A scream. It was a female’s scream.

Hair rose on the back of his neck. He glanced at his two companions, Laren and Grent. Laren unholstered her sidearm, nodding to Grent as he did the same. Wordlessly, they took up a fan formation.

Balidor followed them through the side entrance between buildings, his aleimi in hunting mode.

When they reached the courtyard, Balidor stopped short. Laren and Grent halted, too. A crowd stood around the sparring ring in the corner of the weed-choked yard. Balidor recognized the Bridge’s two humans. They were standing too still; he could see more than one seer holding them in restraint.

Staring between legs, he felt his chest clench, remembering that morning...the flare the Bridge had sent out while she’d been with Dehgoies.

He swore in Chinese, recognizing the seer astride her now, a youngster named Maygar who’d been acting as her bodyguard for about a year. Balidor had gotten a bad feeling about him from the beginning, even apart from his past, his ridiculous pretensions to revolutionary status and his Rook mother.

He chambered a bullet, walking forward, cursing Dehgoies at each stride. What the hell had he been thinking, letting her come back here alone?

He was about to shout out, to call a halt to whatever Maygar had put in motion, when he felt a pulse of what could only be terror, and realized it came from the Bridge. The intensity of it brought him to a halt. The same sharp inhale spread to others as it hit the crowd.

A burst of light illuminated the Barrier space.

Then the punk, Maygar, lifted off her...no
flew
off her.

He jerked like a rag doll through the air. He soared about thirty feet across the courtyard and slammed into a set of stone benches. His back and neck connected solidly; he didn’t make a sound apart from the thud of flesh. Once he fell to the dirt below, he didn’t move.

There was an instant of dead silence.

The Bridge was on her feet.

Everyone backed away. She stared around as if half-blind, fumbling with her pants, pulling them up over her hips, wiping blood off her face...and her eyes were light, just light. It was the last glimpse Balidor got of her face before she bolted, running not for the street or the compound buildings but through the garden.

She was fleeing, he realized...not just Maygar, but all of them.