Saturday, August 20, 2016

To the Slaughter - Part Six

Finally! It's here! :-) The sad thing about online technology is that I can't skip ahead to the end if it gets too terrible to wait, but the wait is over. If you're like my older brother, who waited to watch the whole Lord of the Rings and Hobbit movies after they've all been made, and you've been waiting to read the whole thing until the end is posted, now's your chance!

I don't have that kind of patience myself - I like being on edge for years, wondering what in the world could possibly happen next.

If you need a quick review of anything, Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four and Part Five are here.

***
To the Slaughter - Conclusion
By David Zaragoza and Dianna Zaragoza



The spectacular turnout for the final day of the Slaughter was almost twice the amount that showed up on the first rise. The king expressed his pleasure by swallowing one of his own homegrown wine grapes from a bowl at his side, a smile on his face and a lightness in his step. 

The Crown Prince, still draped in his full armor, sat stoic and silent by the King’s side. 

Ana sat behind the gate, her armor and knives strapped to her body. As she felt through herself to make sure she was prepared, she felt a small lump in her right pocket. Pulling it out, she saw Thom’s hair tie in her hand. 

She hadn’t had time to pay before she ran. 

Thom…

She lifted her hair with her hand, and wrapped the hair tie around it tightly. 

As she finished, the gate opened and Ana stepped out to a sea of people. She knew everyone cheered for Dixie, the girl she met in the holding cell last night. Despite her small appearance, she knew how to fight, and knew how to put on a good show of it. 

As the two combatants reached the center of the arena, Ana drew her knives. Dixie chose metal gauntlets, which made close-quarters combat both of their specialties. They were equally matched in both speed and skill, as practice showed last night, but strength seemed skewed in favor of Dixie due to her advanced fighting skills. 

Ana glanced up at the royal box, where the prince sat unmoving.

Down in the arena, Dixie nodded to her accomplice.

“Are you ready to pull this off, Ponytail?”

Ana turned to face her. “No. No, I’m not. I can’t kill you, Dix,” Ana responds.

Dixie suddenly lunged at her neck with her gauntlet, catching her in the shoulder, and pulling off the audio recorder attached to her armor. With another swift move, she swung back and deftly removed her own. Ana dropped to the side with surprise.

Ana tosses away her knives, and puts up her fists. 

This surprises the entire crowd, including the royal spectators. 

“We’ve been over this, Ana. You have to kill me after five minutes in. I’m going to hurt you, but you have to kill me. My parents are waiting for me in the death halls. You promised.”

“I know I did. But I know you now. I can’t do this.”

Dixie lunged at her with a quickness that took her breath. They rolled on the ground, and Dixie scratched Ana with the side of her gauntlet. She touched the tender skin, and saw blood.

“They’ll stop the fight any second to fix the audio. If you don’t do this now, the Slaughter will continue. More people will die. Maybe your daughter. You have a chance to save them, but you have to kill me to do it. At the right time.”

Ana threw the next punch, which Dixie blocked with her wrist. Colliding with the metal made Ana's fist vibrate. She winced with the impact. Nevertheless, she shook it off and used her other fist to hit somewhere else. Dixie blocked her blow again, with the same results. The cheers were deafening. 

“Hold the fight.” Guards pull them apart, as they fix and adjust the audio receivers on their armor, just as Dixie had told her. As they worked, she panted. Dixie gasped also, as her audio was adjusted.
Dixie was right. Ana’s adrenalin rushed through her body, and her anger surged within her. She never wanted to see this contest happen again, and she would do what she must, to make that happen. They were pawns in a much larger plan. All she had to do was play her part. To stop this madness.

“Begin again!” the king roared, as the crowd whipped itself to a frenzy.

“My turn,” Dixie chirped. She was playing a part now, to fuel the fires of the audience. 

She socked Ana in the stomach twice in quick succession. The first knocked the air out of her, while the other made her cough and choke. As Ana struggled to breathe, she saw the shadow of Dixie fall close in front of her. The plan was going smoothly. Her fear gripped her, but not the fear those watching would expect.

“What a pathetic show. It's a crying shame – and we could have been such good friends.” Although it came out in the voice of a devious woman-child, Ana could hear the pain in Dixie's voice as ‘the creepy marionette’ raised Ana’s own knife to end her.

Ana rolled into Dixie’s knees, knocking her forward. The knife fell, and Ana grabbed it. She pinned Dixie to the ground, holding the knife perpendicular over her heart.

Dixie stopped, and a tear rolled down one eye. 


“Do it.” Dixie said. It was for the audience, but there was a plea behind her bravado. Now was the time.

Ana froze. The knife was so sharp. This was it. She could feel the arrows pointing at them – the Prince at Dixie, and the guards of the king, their arrows pointing at her back.

“Help…” The noiseless word came from her mouth, away from the audience, away from the breathless drama behind them.

“Push…”she whispered.

Dixie seized the knife with great ferocity, and Ana closed her eyes and gripped the handle tighter with both hands. Although the audience couldn’t see, it was Dixie that pushed the knife through the soft skin.

A moment later, Ana opened her eyes. Her hands still held the hilt, as Dixie’s hands fell away, lifeless.

And she screamed a scream she could hear over the cacophony of the crowd. 

Her heart tore itself to black shreds. The knife came up, red and dripping in her cold and frozen hands. She wiped the blood of her friend on her own armor – across her chest and stomach.

She had honored her sacred vow. Her next vow would be to sink this same knife into the neck of the crown prince. She held it aloft in fury. The crowd cheered and cheered as the guards led her away to the royal chambers.

The King stood and clapped. Once she was off the field, the Prince removed his helmet as he stood.

He clapped his son on the shoulder. “Time to claim your prize, my boy. Think she’ll be happy to see you?”

Thom’s gentle eyes seemed far away in thought. “Yes, and no.”

***


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