Shadowsoul Page 5

  Thomas pushes the door open. Rows of armor and weapons hang around the chamber. A shelf of helmets stands proudly in the middle, and animal harnesses line the wall. Chains and shackles fill two large crates to my right. I turn to the guard and hold out my hands, waiting for him to unshackle me.

  Thomas crosses his arms and huffs, “I'm not going to unshackle you until we are in the training area.”

  I roll my eyes. “How do you expect me to get changed into my gladiator gear?”

  Thomas looks at me, and I can see the struggle between protocol and the logic of my question. At last, he unchains me and throws the shackles onto a shelf nearby. “No funny business, okay?”

  I nod. I want my gear, and a commotion here will only bring those guards we passed earlier. I move about the room and find my worn leather armor hanging on a frame. It had been hastily wiped down after my last match. Blood still clings to it in patches. I strap it on piece by piece over my clothes. On the shelf next to my armor, I spot a leather bracer, the same faded brown as my armor. My reward for surviving my one-hundredth match. I force the surge of guilt away and strap the leather cuff to my wrist, it slips neatly over my hand. The bracer covers the scratches I earned this morning in the Arena, and part of me wishes I’d had it then. Undoubtedly it will come in handy during future battles, being able to protect ones sword arm is always a bonus.

  I eye my boots and shuffle my slimy feet. No way are they going in the only pair of shoes I have. I spot a rag on the floor nearby and use it to clean the grime from my feet before I pull my boots on.

  I stride over to the weapons rack and inspect it. I scan the shelf and select a dagger and a short sword. I pass up the larger weapons, mindful of having to carry them with me. I tie the blades to my belt, and my elbow bumps into an old leather bag hanging from a hook behind me. It’s small and dusty, but it’s sturdy enough to hold supplies. I grab the rough leather bag and open it; it is light and will work well for what I needed.

  “What are you doing?” Thomas asks from the doorway.

  It takes all my self-discipline not to jump. I had forgotten about the guard. “Collecting medical supplies. Just in case I get hurt while training. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking a guard fresh out of training isn’t taking proper care of Darkmor’s gladiators would we?”

  It’s a total bluff. We never take medical supplies out when training, but I play on the young guard’s inexperience and fear of failure, hoping it will motivate him.

  “Why o-of course,” stammers the guard. “I only meant you have not packed any water canteens. I will get one”

  I cannot believe my luck—water and medical supplies. I turn my back to him and collect bandages from a nearby shelf. Behind them I find a little jar with an aged and yellowed label. I open the pot to find it half filled with thick purple paste. What luck! Paste like this is made from vibrant red flowers with royal blue pollen. These flowers are only found on the surface, far above the caverns of Shadowsoul. The fact that these flowers are exclusive to the surface and grow nowhere else makes the cream extremely valuable. The paste is monitored with more caution than slaves are guarded.

  I glance behind me at the locked shelf with stacked containers within it. Someone has put this pot on the wrong shelf. Probably a guard who had forgotten the key and was in a hurry to leave.

  Thomas clatters noisily, and I drop the paste into the bag and turn to face him. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, even a guard this inexperienced will know I shouldn’t have this paste. If he wants to look in the bag there will be hell to pay.

  He holds out a sturdy water canteens and I take it shoving it into my bag too. I wait, but Thomas shows no indication of checking what I have packed. How this guy got through training is a mystery, he probably has family in high places.

  I throw the bag over my shoulder, and the guard shackles my wrists once more before he ushers me from the room.

  We exit the passage through two metal doors and enter the training grounds. Flickering torches are placed around the area and light the perimeter. The boundary is a squared off patch of sand, or at least it used to be sand. Now it’s hard packed dirt. Upkeep of this place isn’t a priority.

  I eye the familiar wooden training dummies, dented and marked by seasons of use and age. The guard removes my chains and drops them by his feet with a thud.

  The earthy scent of the training ground greets me, and I take some slight comfort in it. I breathe in deeply, and the fresh smell fills my lungs and replaces the stench of sweat, damp and illness that lingers in the halls of the compound. The area is empty, for which I am grateful. Most gladiators don’t train on game days, often choosing to spend time with what remains of their families.

  A prickle of tears wells in my eyes, and I have to fight back thoughts of my mother. Now isn’t the time for that. I grab my foot and begin stretching my legs, getting prepared for my training session. Halfway through my stretches, Thomas lets out a loud yawn and slumps against the wall, fidgeting with his baton. Clearly demonstrating his distaste for the fact that he has to guard me.

  Sensing an opportunity I start loosening my arms and throw a look at Thomas. “Aren’t you going to go back?”

  Thomas looks at me uncertain. “I have been charged with watching you,” he barks in a monotone voice.

  I shrug. “That’s not what the other guards do they always leave.” I turn back to my stretches.

  “It is necessary I watch you,” the guard snaps.

  “Sure it is,” I provoke. “Because one person in the compound yard, surrounded by barbed wire fences, regular guard patrols, and three-headed dogs with acid spikes needs guarding.”

  Thomas gives me a blank face as he tries to process the conversation. This guard isn’t the brightest light in the compound.

  “The other guards leave?” He asks at last.

  I nod. “They go to the mess hall or play games in the guard house.” Just then a burst of veracious laughter fills the darkness coming from the direction on the guard tower near the gate of the compound.

  I leave him in silence as I pull my sword from my belt and begin lunges. Thomas looks from me to the guard house in the distance.

  A few moments pass. “Stay here. I will be back to check on you later.”

  I don’t even turn to look at him as I continue my lunges a brief nod is all the acknowledgement I give.

  I turn to face the training dummy and continue my routine until the guard fades into the distance. “Dumbass.”

  I shake my head. Now that I lost my dimwitted escort, I can start searching for a way out of the compound. Preferably one that wouldn’t end with me trapped, mauled or dead. Perhaps I will be able to use the fence like Kathrine mentioned. A glint brings my attention to the shackles on the ground. I glance over to the doors. They are the only way in and out of the training grounds. I glance over at the guard house. Some of the guards will be in there, but most of the compound guards will be inside the main building.

  I pick up the shackles and loop the chains around the door handles. If I don’t make it out tonight, I'm in big trouble. If I have my way, I won’t be around long enough for it to be a problem.

  I cast one last look at the door and jog towards the boundary and inspect the thick wiring. The fence is a mess of barbed wire. There would be no hope of climbing it, not without getting cut to ribbons.

  I come upon a small hole under the fence. Judging from the size and the sprinkle of purple scales in the dirt under the wire, it’s the work of a Whelping. These tiny dragons are always worming their way into the compound and stealing from our reserves. Without the use of their undeveloped wings, they have to be creative about how they get their food.

  It isn’t a big hole, I will fit. I glance around the dimly lit compound, checking for patrols and anyone who may be curious about what I’m up too. I listen, and a distant roar of laughter informs me the guards are socializing, and probably drinking instead of tending to their patrol duties.

  I kneel on the ground and
remove my pack and weapons. I push them into the small hole in front of me. Laying down on my stomach I wriggle into the opening. I struggle through the dirt; it’s a tight fit between me and the fence. The barbed wire pulls at my hair, and scrapes at my skin, each little spike attempting to hold me inside the compound. Numerous small cuts tear my flesh, and blood trickles from the tiny wounds.

  Halfway through the hole, a siren goes off. I panic and twist in the dirt, searching the compound with my eyes, desperate to know if I have been spotted. I peer through the thick wire fence, and I can’t see any guards yet. But the yard floodlights have come on, and beams of light trail along the ground, lighting up everything in their path. If it isn’t me they are looking for, they will find me soon enough. I need to get a move on.

  Turning back to my stomach, I try to edge forward, but my foot won’t budge. I force myself to calm down and look at the problem. I twist around to see my boot has become entangled in a section of loose barbed wire. I stare at the looped wire and curse the fencing. I can’t reach my boot with my hand to untangle it, and so I wriggle my foot trying to free it.

  I jump as many fists pounding on metal doors echoes through the cavern. I return to my task, those shackles won’t hold them long.

  I give one last vicious jerk, and my boot comes free of the fence. A barb cuts into my calf, and fresh blood spills onto the dirt below me. I struggle through the soil as fast as I can. My hasty exit has earned me a few more scratches, but at last, I’m free.

  Well, almost.

  I still have to get away from the perimeter without any guards or Cerebi catching me. I check the cut in my leg—it’s about an inch long, relatively deep, and looks like it will need stitches, but treating it can wait. I grasp my weapons and tie them on to my belt. A shout from the compound triggers a painful leap of my heart.

  I look back and see a guard pointing at me, yelling to his comrades. Sirens wail through the darkness and echo around the cavern. I don’t want to be here when they get to this side of the fence.

  I turn and run.

  Chapter Five

  Cerebi

  I hiss at the burn in my leg and force myself to keep running. Every step makes the wound pull like its being torn anew. Blood trickles down my boot, and I must be leaving spatters of it across the dirt. I run, stumbling over uneven ground, I have never been outside the compound before. I have absolutely no idea which direction to go in.

  Well, I have some idea, and it’s anywhere but here.

  I sprint away from the compound, my heart hammering in my chest as I dodge holes and rocks. Ignoring the burning throb of my injuries and the uncomfortable jostle of the bag on my back. My foot slips into a small hole, and I land heavily on my hands and knees, the rough rock slicing my skin.

  I wince and pull myself back to my feet. I resume my run, but the dim light in the cavern makes it hard to see. I narrowly miss another hole, and sweat breaks out across my body. I slow to a more bearable pace. I glance back at the compound, its lights growing faint in the distance. The siren is a feeble wail, swallowed by my heavy footsteps.

  The compound is far behind me, but my thundering heart keeps me running. My feet pound with every connection they make with the uneven terrain and my ragged breaths catch my throat, drying my mouth. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my inhalations, but the panting continues.

  A low growl comes from the darkness, accompanied by the sound of many footsteps as they thump the ground. My blood runs cold. Only one creature could track me so quickly in the darkness of the cavern. A Cerebi, and it’s close.

  My heart jolts, pounding in my chest, I pick up the pace, and my legs burn in protest. I run at speed I didn’t know I possessed, dodging rocks and holes faster than ever before. Never have I been this scared. Not even in the Arena, and I’ve been plenty scared in the Arena.

  Another growl erupts from the darkness, and I push on. The Cerebi is much faster than me. Even if I manage to keep up this pace and stay in front of it, I will tire at some point. I will make a mistake and fall. It is a well-known fact Cerebi’s are bred for their endurance and brutality. If there is an option, I would rather not witness the Cerebi’s unique talents.

  Taking a chance, I dodge a large boulder and glance behind me. My foot connects with a rock, and I tumble. Throwing my arms out, I land hard in the dirt. A jarring pain shoots from my elbows to my shoulders. I bite the inside of my cheek and let out a small gasp.

  I roll over in time to see a giant three-headed dog, its jaws foam and saliva drips onto the ground. Its oily fur glints in the caverns dim light and its muscles ripple with each bound the creature makes as it barrels towards me. Green spikes along the creature's spine quiver with anticipation and shake with each eager bound the animal makes. Bright red eyes take in the sight of its fallen victim and gleam with excitement.

  I scramble to my feet and run.

  I dodge another boulder and spot a small cave entrance. I head for it, but the beast gains on me with each of its massive leaps. I won’t beat the Cerebi to the cave. I can let it catch me, or I can turn and fight. I draw my sword and turn to face the beast. It comes to a halt, weary of the weapon in my hand. A rumbling growl crawls from the monster’s many mouths. The Cerebi throws back its heads, and they howl into the darkness of the cavern.

  I slowly back towards the cave and the Cerebi matches me pace for pace, all three heads lowered and waiting for me to make a mistake. I can’t look back, or the creature will pounce, and so I can only guess the direction of the cave entrance. Footsteps and yelling pierce the dim cavern. Guards.

  I throw away all caution and slash at the creature. It steps back and snaps its jaws at my fist. I draw back, and a guard comes from the side, shrieking a battle cry, running at me, his sword held high.

  My training kicks into gear as my brain registers the guard’s intent. I will not be going back alive with him.

  I crouch and push my sword into his stomach as he rushes me. He flips over me, the force of his run and the motion of my sword propelling him forward. He lands on the ground with a thud, pained gurgles spilling from his mouth. I draw my dagger and plunge it into his neck, ending his suffering.

  The dog slashes its paw across my arm, and I punch it in the closest head. The dog whimpers and retreats. Another two guards appear, and they drop their torches on the ground, setting an eerie light for the scene taking place. I pick up the sword of their fallen comrade and grip it in my other hand—the handle is slick with his blood.

  They swing their swords at me, and I work on keeping them between the dog and me. That task alone takes up most of my strength. Blades dance as I focus all my concentration on keeping the guards and Cerebi at bay. One guard steps too close and a quick flick of my sword across his neck has him falling to the ground lifeless. I quickly take down the last guard. I pull my sword from his chest, and a blow from the side sends me sprawling in the dirt. My swords fly from my hands and land just out of reach. I gasp for breath as the beasts’ massive weight settles on top of me.

  I struggle. The Cerebi’s many jaws snap close to my face, and a splatter of saliva coats my skin. I manage to wriggle a few inches, but my bag snags on a rock. Cursing, I try to reach for my weapons, but they are too far away. The beasts’ jaws clash at my face every chance they get, and I am forced to turn away from my weapons.

  It lunges at me, jaws wide and gaping. I lift my arm in defense and the beast latches onto it. It bites into the flesh, its serrated teeth sink all the way into my limb, and the brute shakes my arm from side to side. Teeth tearing through my bracer like it isn’t even there. Thick red blood runs down my arm, escaping from the punctures to drip onto my chest and face.

  I take a shuddering breath and struggle to get the dog off, kicking its stomach with my feet. The head latched onto my arm shakes it violently. My whole body shifts and pain flairs through my arm and shoulder as the teeth tear further into my flesh. Using my free arm, I search the dirt. My hand brushes against a hard lump and I grasp it.
A rock.

  The Cerebi whimpers with each thud from my rock, but still refuses to release me. The other two heads snap their jaws at my face and arms. Missing me by the tiniest amounts as I assault the head that holds my limb. I shift under the beast, doing my best to avoid the advancing jaws. The Cerebi grows tired of playing with its prey and lets out a deep rumble. Its vibrant green spines quiver and green acid spills from the tips.

  I watch in horror as a drop of green acid slides down the spine and drips off the Cerebi’s body. Excruciating pain erupts in my thigh as the acid chews through my armor and into my leg. A cry escapes me, and I swallow the bile that rushes up my throat. I thrash in pain as the acid works its way through my leg, and the putrid smell of burning flesh filling my nostrils doesn’t help the wave of nausea.

  I stare into the Ceribi’s faces and smash the rock into the nearest head with a sickening crack. The head lets out a yelp and retreats. If this dog is going to kill me, I’m going to make sure it remembers me.

  I lunge forward, striking the wounded head once more and it recoils. Another head snaps at me, and I smash my rock into its face. My arm is released, and I snatch it back. Long jagged teeth, foul breath, and gleaming red eyes fill my vision. My face is covered with a layer of saliva as the creature brandishes its massive teeth above me. Wide jaws make a grab for my throat, and I jerk my head back. Narrowly missing the jagged rock beside me.

  I beat the nearest head with my rock and manage to kick the beast off me. I roll to my feet and charge for my weapons. I scoop them up, and a heap of dirt crams up under my nails. I turn to face the beast, and its heads shake as if it could dislodge the damage I had done to them. A cry draws my attention, and I turn to see a boy, a little younger than me sounding an alarm.

  I'm not the only one to notice. The Cerebi turns its massive head. It makes the decision that the boy is an easier victim and charges.

  “Run,” I cry, but the boy doesn’t heed my words.

  I sprint towards him, aiming to intercept the Cerebi and draw its attention from the boy. As I run, I notice a young woman and a large man appear from the cave entrance. There is no time to think about them. I reach the beast, and it is now so close to the boy that there is no time for grace. I leap and tackle the creature. My whole body weight slamming into its side and sending a painful sprinkle of acid to fall across my arms and back. We roll through the dust, and my head strikes something hard. A burst of silver dots scatters through my vision, and I fight back the darkness that threatens to overwhelm me. The creature slumps on top of me, its massive weight crushing the air from my lungs. I twist uncomfortably and find my sword buried in its side, thick yellow blood oozing from the wound.