Of Silver and Beasts (16 page)

The guard starts at my boots and the wand illuminates blue. “Take them off,” he orders.

I slip out of my steel-toed boots, and he works the device up my legs, pausing at the bottom button of my uniform shirt. He sneers, a wicked grin crossing his stretched face. He continues to move the wand higher, and when it flashes a bright blue over my chest, I stop breathing.

“Remove your shirt,” the guard commands, his voice thick with pleasure.

My mouth trembles open. My eyes flick over the others in the room and land on the prince. His arms flex as he grips the edge of the table, his features strained. I look ahead, close my eyes, and reach for the last button of my shirt.

Bax groans. “Enough,” he snaps. My eyes open as he marches over and rips the silver protector insignia from the breast of my uniform. “You won’t be needing this anymore.” He tosses it to the dirt.

I release my pent-up breath. But my relief is short as I’m hurried toward the opening, hobbling as I put my boots back on. I manage a quick glance over my shoulder at the prince, meeting his enlarged, worried eyes before I’m shoved into the Cage.

I cross over a metal plank connecting the caged ring and the chamber. Beneath is a trench filled with flowing dark silver. Mercury. It surrounds the inside perimeter of the Cage, flowing like a small, murky river.

“No killing!” Bax shouts. “Just hurt him good, protector.”

I’m shocked that Bax is talking to me as if I’m his accomplice—his
partner
. Like I have any intentions to murder an innocent stranger on his behalf.

But when the mountain of a man steps into the domed ring, I question myself. He doesn’t look innocent. He looks like he’s scented blood and is searching for the source, ready to mutilate anything in his path.

He’s wearing a similar, plain tunic as the others in my league, except his is red. It’s grimy and tattered, as if he’s fought a hundred battles. I tilt my head and look closer. His cuff flashes two blue lights. Cocking his head to one side, then the other, he cracks his neck.

Above my head, the electric field of blue and white crackles and pops like lightning.

The risers are filled to the top with citizens of the Otherworld—cheering, whooping, rooting for their contenders. They chant the name “Carnage”, and I assume that’s who is about to put a hurt on me.

My eyes land back on the guy working his way into the center of the Cage. He must be a Colossal, because he towers at least three feet above me, and his biceps are the size of tree trunks. He smooths back his long dark hair and wraps a band around the tail of his grease-streaked mane.

I back up a couple of steps, wanting to study his moves as he attacks.

He favors his left leg, and one of his gray eyes droops, the skin scarred and sagging toward the middle. When he lunges, I jump to my left, forcing him to use his right side to keep balance.

I continue to leap sideways, and he stumbles over his large, booted feet.

“You have to fight sometime, little girl,” he growls. Then he swipes, closing his massive arms like clamps, as he tries to lock them around me.

He lunges again, but this time I sweep his bad leg. He bellows as he grabs his knee and falls to the ground. The crowd roars.

Goddesses, forgive me.

I straddle his huge chest and anchor his arms to the earth with my feet. His eyes widen as he grunts and struggles, probably angered that a five-foot-nothing girl has pinned him. The mercury pumps in my veins, pounding against my skin and singeing my blood.

Bearing down harder on his heavily-muscled arms, I reach down and scoop a handful of the black, damp dirt and smear it over my face to cover the swirls of silver. Then I raise my arms above me and rip a scream from my core.

The crowd jumps to their feet with cheers.

I drop down and drive my forearm against his throat.

He gasps for air as I attempt to put him to sleep just as I did Crew back in the cell. Only he’s not blacking out. He grasps my thighs with his thick fingers and lifts me up. I lose my balance and release his neck, landing on my palms to brace myself.

“You’re strong,” he wheezes. He says this as a revelation. Then he backhands me, and my head snaps to the side with a blinding sting.

The roar of the crowd is muffled as the shattering pain throbs against my ears. I shake my head, and the world tilts as he sends a crushing kick to my stomach. He grabs my arm and leg, his large fingers encircling my limbs as if they’re nothing but twigs, and lifts me above his head.

Turning in circles, he parades me around the ring, hollering to the crowd.

Dropping to his good knee, he brings me down over his bent leg. The
crack
of my back splinters through me like shards of glass attacking my body from the inside. I scream and choke on the blood being pushed into my throat. My spine feels shattered even though I know it’s not. I can still move my legs—though painfully.

I roll to the dirt and cough, the thick black of the earth coating my lips as I drag air into my stinging lungs.

His shadow covers me as he looms over. “Next time we fight, you won’t crawl your way out of this cage.”

Lifting his leg to land a drop kick, he shouts—and I sweep my arm from beneath my body. I latch on to his planted foot. He teeters and howls as I twist his ankle. I roll onto my side and kick my leg straight up into his groin.

He falls back, landing with a hard
thud
. Before he has time to recover, I race to my feet and drop another kick into his rib cage. And then his head. And his head again. Again.

Blood pools on the ground underneath his face. His head wobbles back and forth as he loses consciousness.

I stand there, breathing in and out, looking down at Carnage. He’s alive, but my insides twist into a sickening knot. I’ve never fought anyone for sport before, and next the time, one of us will be dead. This realization brings me back with a sudden jolt as the crowd cheers from the risers, banging against the stands and stomping their feet.

An Otherworlder wearing a black leather jacket and pants, his short dreads spiked straight up on top of his head, walks to the center of the Cage. He wears a vissa display over his eye, and a mic rests beside his pale lips.

He raises my arm above my head. “Colossal!” he announces.

I crane an eyebrow, confused as to how he can rank me something so ridiculous. The rankings must have nothing to do with the actual size of the contenders. I’ve beaten a Colossal, and Crew said that was the highest rank.

He tries to lift my arm again in a show of victory, but I yank it free, wincing at the sharp pain the action sends to my back. Then I slug toward the closed door, where I wait, swaying on my feet.

As it begins to slide open, I hobble over the plank, and stop when Bax steps in front of my path.

He cracks a lopsided smile. “I knew you’d be worth the risk.”

I squint, but don’t have time to question his words as I spot Prince Caben a few feet away, getting ready for his match. Queasiness roils my insides, and I sidestep Bax to get to the prince.

Grabbing my arm and halting me, Bax says, “Rest, protector. Nothing you can do for lover boy.” He croaks a horse laugh, and backs me into a wooden chair.

Alyah, protect the stubborn prince who’s about to get his head knocked off.

As Prince Caben approaches the opening, he glances over his shoulder at me. His blue eyes reflect the black lights, and his face is twisted, cast in a dark void.

I can feel his fear. It creeps inside me and grips my soul. I recognize the look he’s giving me—I have to stop this fight. I have to protect him.

Before he’s pushed into the Cage, his lips curl into a knowing smile and—

He winks.

I spring from my seat with a wince and grab my back as I stumble over to the giant, barred door.

The prince stands deathly still in the middle of the ring. My heart lurches in my chest when the door on the other side of the Cage grinds open. I wipe the dried dirt from my face, clearing it from my brow and eyes to get a better look at the monster entering the ring.

He’s nearly seven feet tall, and thin, his long limbs extending from his torso like knotted tree branches. But he’s solid. And as well-defined as the prince is, I can tell this contender spends hours working out. Not being pampered by maids and women. The tall contender doesn’t have a lot of flesh, but he’s all hard muscle.

I bow my head for a moment, praying to the goddesses to help the prince. He’s not going to win, but I pray he’s not beaten so badly that he’ll never walk again. He just has to go down—throw the fight, and not get back up.

Only, I’m not sure his pride will allow him do so.

As I look back into the Cage, they’re already circling each other. Tree Man grins, staring the prince down. I have no clue as to why Arnik chose Prince Caben to be a cage fighter. Bax should’ve taken one look at him and fought his master’s orders. But I have to trust that the goddesses kept the prince with me for a reason, and that they won’t let him be killed.

Tree Man takes off in a run, black dirt kicking up behind him, and crashes into the prince. Prince Caben cries out, and I move my head back and forth, trying to get a better angle to see what’s happening.

Caben has fended him off by meeting the guy’s crushing blow with his fist, right in his kidneys. The prince raises his hand, palm flat and fingers in hard lines, and chops the back of Tree Man’s neck. The guy falls to the ground, grabbing his head.

My eyes widen.
What the goddess?

As Tree Man tries to recover, Caben pitches dirt in his face and tackles him from the back. He straddles him, pulling the guy’s feet toward his mid-section in a wrestling hold. A harsh wail rips from Tree Man’s mouth, and he reaches behind him to get a grasp on his foe.

I barely hear the shouts from the stadium as my heart hammers in my ears.

Tree Man finally gets ahold of the prince’s tunic and yanks him backward, throwing the prince off him. Caben rolls to a stop and rights himself onto his knees.

Stand up.

The prince stays close to the ground. Tree Man advances toward him with long strides and reaches down. Caben ducks and latches on to Tree Man’s ankles, pulling the guy’s feet from under him. Tree Man lands on his back, and the prince rises up and bends the guy’s legs toward his face.

Caben has him in some kind of locked hold that Tree Man can’t maneuver out of. Caben only releases him when he bounds up to land a blow. He elbows the guy’s throat, and my own throat tightens in response.

Clutching his neck, Tree Man kicks himself along the ground, out of the prince’s reach. But Caben doesn’t allow him to move far. He grabs ahold of Tree Man’s foot and drags him back to the center of the Cage. Then Caben lifts his arms to the rooting spectators.

He turns his head in the direction of the chamber, seeking me. Our eyes meet briefly—and with a small hike of his lips, he lands the finishing blow to Tree Man’s head.

Tree Man lies limp, his thin, knobby limbs splayed out around him. Caben rises to meet the announcer entering the center of the Cage. The leather-clad Otherworlder says something to the prince away from his mic, then laughs . . .
laughs
. . . and looks to the crowd.

“Our victor,” the announcers says, his voice booming. “The Colossal, The Prince of Pain!”