Oh, and there's six parts to this story, not five. Sorry about that - like I said, it's a longer one.
To the Slaughter - Part Two
By David Zaragoza and Dianna Zaragoza
***
Ana’s tears seemed never-ending, even as she sat in her cell
in the royal arena. The jagged stone walls, a wooden floor and hay strewn in
several places gave her little comfort. It would have been more suited as a
stable than a cell if it weren't for the metal bars preventing entry or exit.
“Your tears are undignified, girl. Buck up! Parethians don’t
cry as you do.”
“Pareth…isn’t that where the university is?” Another voice
to the right of her cell, a high-pitched and strident voice, rang out. “Are you
in the scholar’s circle, perchance? You’re lucky.”
“That’s right…I’m so lucky that my father couldn’t keep his
mouth shut. ‘The Slaughter is a barbaric remnant of an ancient time long gone’
he says. And so they come for me in my sleep, and now I’m standing here, behind
bars, waiting to kill all of you so I can marry a man I’ve never met. I think those
who die will be luckier.”
“At least you got to go at all. I’ve been an entertainer on
the online circuits since I was first conceived. I can’t sit here in a cage –
my regular announcements won’t be made.”
“I heard your announcements through the speech carrier. Aren’t
you Fortune? You’re the lucky one, friend – lucky they didn’t assassinate you
for your sass.” The voice turned on Ana once again, ferocious. “Stop that
blubbering before you drive us all mad!”
“Leave her alone! It’s normal to cry. You’re made of the
same stone as these walls, and she’s as soft as feliform fur. Once for
breaking, and one for ripping...” The high-pitched laugh to the right of her
cell came to her defense in a most unwelcome way.
Everyone’s reaction to the ‘honor’ of selection was
different, and to Ana’s ears, they all sounded desperate and dangerous. Ana’s terror
froze her into a dark huddle in one corner and wept for her mother and for
Thom. She would never see them again.
“Hey...” The guards had changed; the new guard’s sounded
dark and commanding. “Keep it down in there. All of you.”
She approached the bars to see him, a hooded man with a
concealed face. “Would you please…please take pity on me, and please…you have
your knife…”
“You want me to give you a knife? You’ve been out in the
wilds too long.”
She pressed herself against the door. “You can hold it too.
Tell them I tricked you.”
The guard turned to regard her, his eyes the only visible
part of his face in his Gosprin armor. “You were chosen to be warrior consort
to our prince? You are the champion of region Fordwick?”
“I am no one of any importance. Royal guards took me away from
my love, and the mother who loved me.”
“Love? Are you already allied to someone? Why fight for the
prince’s hand then?”
“No. The man they’ve taken is my friend…a secret love. I had
not told him of my feelings yet. Now I never can. He is being held against his
will unless I fight and win. Please…”
The guard said nothing for a moment. He looked around at the
other cells and moved back toward the bars, whispered over his shoulder. “If
you fight with honor, he may still get the chance to live.”
Ana said nothing more.
His gloved hand closed around hers, but he did not draw her
closer. “You’re not the first to ask. However, if you wish it, I can show you
how to survive the arena.”
“How?”
King Wyllis II looked forward to
attending to his garden. For twenty years, he was well-known among the court
for his homegrown herbs and edible plants. Right now, his presence was traditional
at the arena to oversee the first Slaughter battle.
“Sire, Crown Prince Reeves hasn’t arrived yet,” his personal
guard informed the King as he took his seat on his throne. “The fight cannot begin
without him.”
“For the love of garlic,” the King sighs. “If he doesn't
show up in five minutes, I swear I'm leaving to tend to my herbs.”
No sooner are the words uttered than the Crown Prince
himself arrived, dressed in his summer armor including the headpiece that
obscured all but his eyes. He took his seat next to his father.
“Pardon my lateness, dear Patre. I needed a lighter set of
clothing.”
“Well, at least you showed up. Let’s get this started,” the
King dismissed his excuse. He stood from his royal chair and walked down the
purple silk carpet, and placed his hands on the balcony railing overlooking the
immense sea of faces.
King Wyllis raised his arms to silence the shrieking crowd.
He spoke into the magnifier that rang out to every corner of the arena.
“Citizens of the six regions of Gosprin, I personally
welcome you to this year’s Slaughter of Seven Maidens.”
“Twenty years ago, my father stood in this same spot, and
personally oversaw the events of the past Slaughter, and as you know, the
winner – Queen Francesca – became my wife. May her soul rest in the death halls
in beauty and honor.”
A solemn and traditional silence fell over the crowd at the
reminder of the sudden death of the queen several sun-cycles ago now. The
official explanation was a difficult childbirth. Her criticisms of the
Slaughter and its revered sponsors, however, had caused many powerful people
some significant discomfort.
The King cleared his throat before continuing.
“For the next three sunrises, six chosen warrior maidens will
compete for the hand of my son, the Crown Prince Reeves. He, too, will be
seeing these women in action for the first time. The winner, as before, will
receive his hand in marriage, and will be acknowledged as part of the royal
court!”
The crowd erupted in applause. The King stretched forth his
right hand, giving the silent order to let the first combatants out. “Commence
the Slaughter!”
Ana stepped out of the gate, armed with plate mail too tight for her, a shield
too heavy to carry, and a jagged combat knife. As she limped to the center of
the arena, she tried to get a good look at her opponent.
Like Ana, Emeline from Pareth, the scholar's daughter, wore tight armor and a
buckler, but instead carried a sharpened icy rapier.
Part Three tomorrow...
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