This story will be written straight through and uploaded here, then it will be gone back over and edited, so if there are any spelling or gramatical mistakes, sorry ! :) enjoy.......
CHAPTER 1
The small girl slept in front of the empty fire place, the fire having gone out hours ago.deeply, her forehead She shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around her. A ray of moonlight fell across her face from the open window, the moon full and bright. After a while, she began to toss and turn under the blanket. She started to murmur, but it was too quiet for anyone to hear, even if they were right next to her. She slowly began to murmur louder and sweat began to break out on her forehead. “No, Cobar, don’t!”
Her eyes snapped open as she heard someone scream. She sat up, breathing still covered in sweat. The girl glanced around as another scream, from a different voice reverberated through the building. Sleep still caked in her eyes, she stumbled to her feet. The thin scratchy blanket fell from around her shoulders and she ran to the door. She reached out to grab the handle and jerked back as the white hot metal burned her palm. She looked around the room, looking for something to help her open the handle.
The blanket which she had left lying on the ground seemed perfect and she ran back over, grabbing it and wrapping it around her good hand. She quickly pushed down on the door handle. Fire burned out in the corridor and she let the blanket drop to the ground once again.
One of the beams smashed to the ground in front of her, blocking off her exit. She spun around, eyes darting for another way out of the flames that continued to burn higher. Her eyes stopped at the window that faced the wall behind the house, the only way out of the small second floor room apart from the door. She hesitated and glanced back over her shoulder at the blocked door. Her eyes widened as she darted towards the window, just missing the next beam as it fell to the ground. The flames licked at her bare feet as she leapt over the burning gap that was opening in the floor. As she moved across the floor, it finally caught on fire and the fire sped after her. She reached the window and threw herself through the flimsy window. The tiny shards of glass bit into her arms as she tried to hide her face from the damage. As soon as she cleared the window ledge the flames reached the stiff material curtains and the flames grabbed at her thin bedclothes. She gasped as she moved her hands from in front of her face and saw the rapidly approaching ground. The ground rushed up to meet her and she cried out as she finally collided with the ground. Her head cracked against the tightly packed earth and a few things cracked from the force.
The fire blazed behind her as she lay, unmoving in the dew covered grass. Her chest rose and fell shallowly, the only sign that she was still alive. Blood fell from the many tiny cuts on her body and the burns that covered her hands and arms looked raw to the touch. Her shirt had ripped on the shattered window and scars were visible across her stomach and back.
The neighbours had begun to gather out the front of the house, some bringing containers filled with water to throw on the fire. After an hour or so, most of them had left, after the novelty had worn off. The building had been situated on the very edge of the city, right next to the city wall. It was also on the border of the Noblemen’s part of the city and the slums where the kinta lived. The kinta had been too scared to leave their home after curfew, so the noblemen had been the ones who had come to see what was happening. That was the reason why nobody had bothered to call the fire service, or why there was no warning to begin with. It was just a kinta orphanage – who cares.
Just as the sun began to rise, two quite obviously drunk men began to stumble out of a tavern. They drunkenly stumbled across the uneven pavement, using the wall as a solid bearing to find their way home, which doubled as something they could steady themselves on when they ground was rudely pulled out from underneath them. They had stopped for another short break to regain their balance next to the burnt out orphanage, when one of them noticed the unmoving girl. “Well what do we have here?” one of them slurred as he pushed himself off the wall, swaying slightly as he staggered towards the girl.
The other man watched after him, still clinging to the wall, not trusting his feet to hold him steady. “What is it?”
“I reckon it’s an orphan, jumped out of this here window.” He said gesturing above him and nearly losing his balance.
“Wait, I’m pretty sure there was a fire here tonight. It’s still flaming a little.” The man leaning against the wall said, slowly moving over to his companion. “And that means that everyone will most likely thinks this one’s dead if she disappears.”
The man leaning over the girl glanced back at the other man, eyes widening. “Come on, she doesn’t even look as if she’s even over 12.”
The other man swept his hand through his hair, sighing. “Look, we’ve only caught 3 this week and Callahan won’t be too happy if we don’t fill our quota. I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely not taking her place.” He spat, suddenly appearing a lot more sober.
“But-“
“It’s your funeral; you wouldn’t last one week in the Fights.”
“And this girl could?”
“That’s not our problem! We just need to get 4 bodies down to Callahan and then it doesn’t matter if they last for one week or four years!”
The men both glared at each other, fists clenched. The girl groaned as her eyes cracked open slightly and she glanced up at the two men.
“Sorry girlie,” the first man said. “It’s either you or us”
The girl tried to ask what he meant, but his boot smashed into the side of her head quicker than she could form the words.
“Sweet dreams.” The second man muttered as the girl was once again rendered unconscious.
*
The girl was rudely awakened by a white hot piece of metal being shoved into her unprotected side. She opened her mouth to scream, but a rough hand that smelt strongly of alcohol was already in front of it, making it hard for her to breathe. “Okay, two things you need to know.” The man wheezed, his alcoholic breath adding even more smells to the concoction that was addling her brain.
“One, your number is 1837 – if you ever forget I just gave you a handy little reminder” he chuckled, the chubby fingers of his other hand tapping onto the raw skin of her newest burn, “And two, your first fight’s in two days”
He let go of her mouth and staggered to his feet, grabbing the bottle that had been sitting on a table and took a heavy swig. He fixed his yellow eyes on the other two men in the room and they quickly rushed forward and picked up the girl, who was still sitting on the ground, mind not comprehending what had just happened. They grabbed her arms and dragged her out of the room and the scene that greeted her was something that she’d wished she’d never have to see.
The room was filled with people who definitely looked like they had seen better days. There was two men fighting in the corner and both of them had numerous scars and one of them was missing an eye. There was people sitting or lying on the ground, some of the not moving at all and others looking at pictures or mementos, a longing expression in their eyes. The two men threw her to the ground and quickly retreated back into the other room and she heard the click of a lock, reminding her that she was stuck here.
Every pair of eyes in the room looked at her, including the two brawling men. She cowered back as a middle aged man walked up to her and knelt down before her. “Hi, my name is Tom, and welcome to the Fights.”
