The House of Daggers (#NaNoWriMo 18)

Chapter 2

She was not long for this world. Grief struck her nerves. The superiors stood on their feet, beating their fists into the air. Reek's eyes steeled with resolve, as if he'd prepared for this outcome all along.

One of the blade-men flashed a yellow-toothed grin as he handed Kara her target. A well of defiance burst within her. She spat in the blade-man's face, earning the name-calling from her onlookers. The blade-man made to slap her. She blocked his strike with her target.

"She's a feisty one, isn't she?" the announcer said. "Leave her be. She'll receive enough blows, mind you."

The mug-faced blade-man sneered as he backed off.

"Listen to your master, you bent-tooth skiv," Kara spat. She refused to roll over for their amusement. 

"You best pray you die easy, because I'll be here waiting to make you die hard."

"You don't have to lift a finger. You've already slain me with your foul breath."

The announcer hurriedly instructed Kara and Reek to face off amidst the blade-man's cursing. 

Reek swung his blade, testing its feel. Kara's heart fisted.

"Ladies and gents! On the count of three, the match will begin! One!"

Kara's vision swam. Sweat slicked her palms as she knuckle-gripped the flanks of her makeshift shield. She sunk her haunches low in a battle stance.

"Two!"

Reek's bony jaw wound tight. That scared Kara; he wasn't going to take that sword for granted. He knew that the first rule of survival was take no chances.

"Three!"

A wild scream. A glint of steel. Reek's first swing carved an arc above her head. Her head dipped low. Steel whistled to meet it. Kara raised her shield. It buckled. Splintered.

She rammed her foot into Reek's midriff. He stumbled backward, losing control of his sword. Victory: her head was still attached to her neck. Another battle cry. Her knees jolted with every step forward. She parried the blade once, twice--the blade's edge split the shield in two, grazed her cheek, and would have severed her arm if Reek had followed through completely. He pulled back to swing again, torso arched for the killing blow.

Kara dropped to the ground. Follow up by smashing her shin into his right ankle. Reek's arms flailed. A resounding thud smacked the Pit. Reek was down. She jammed her knee into his groin. He released a strangled grunt. Avoiding his eyes, she cracked her knuckles against his jaw. Kara's eyes flashed to the sword he no longer wielded.

The audience cheered and whistled, wishing for a fitting end. She'd given them what they wanted to see. She'd drawn first blood. Now she was their twisted hero. She would not give them more blood. She was here in this shithole for Wren's survival, she told herself. Panic consumed her. Worms wriggled in her insides, devouring her will to fight. She was no monster. She was a human, seeking to live another day. If there's another way...

She snatched the sword's hilt, mushing Reek's face with her free hand as he struggled to wrestle out of her hold.

"It's over," Kara told the announcer who'd been looking on from the perimeter of the Pit. "End the match."

The announcer clasped his hands. "This fight is to the death. We have no need of waste. Finish him."

The crowd begged for blood. If it was blood they wanted, she'd gladly make them taste their own. She hissed at the crowd, raising her blade aloft as she continued to battle for position with the restless boy. The fat-nosed blade-man she'd spat at rushed forward with a hand to his longsword.

"Kill him," he yelled, "or I lop your hand off."

She had no choice, it seemed. Then, she would make his death as painless as possible. She smashed the hilt of the sword against Reek's temple. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. She hovered her palm over his nose. Air feathered it; he was still breathing.

"Is he dead?" the announcer asked.

The blade-man's sword rent the air as he drew it clean. "I'll assure that he is, and she next if she does not oblige."

Kara pleaded her soul for forgiveness. She smothered Reek, and yelped when teeth gnashed her thumb. Reek was still conscious. She could slice his throat, make it quick. But she feared what the insides of a neck might look like as blood spilled out. Instead, she placed her hands around Reek's neck and squeezed.

She scrunched her eyes close, telling herself all the time that if she didn't do it, he would. And she needed to live, for Wren.

The audience cried their displeasure. She'd already given them her humanity. Wasn't that enough?

"Look at me," croaked a voice.

Why is it taking so long for him to die?

"Let me die knowing that you'll never forget what death looks like."

Reek's voice was only a whisper, but she read the words off his lips. What of her beloved brother? Sandy-haired and blue-eyed. Full of what little life she could pump into him. And here she was trying to take someone else's life.

Kara released her grip on Reek's neck and watched him drink air like water. Now it appeared the Superiors might bolt out of their seats to kill Reek themselves. The announcer attempted to appease them, but his fluty voice worked much like oil on a field of fire. The Superiors only increased their uproar.

"Ladies and gents, Kara knows what is at stake. Failure to win will mean that her dear brother will be tasked with his own survival. He may even have to fight for his bread right in this very arena."

A dizzying wave of rage washed over Kara's limbs. Suddenly she found herself on her back, pinned under Reek's weight. He grabbed the sword she'd dropped and aimed the blade at Kara's pulsing neck. He'd taken advantage of her weakness. She was no survivor.

Thorns caught in her throat as she watched Superiors jump from their seats and exchange kisses. What did it feel like to die? She'd always wondered if there was ever peace beyond the pain. The bodies at the refectory during pig feed hour didn't have smiles on them, so perhaps there was no peace to be had.

"I'll finish what she couldn't," Reek announced. His voice was strained.

Tears coated Kara's eyes. She was scared, scared of the Superiors and their fiendish masks, scared of failing her brother, scared of the blade hovering over her neck, scared of death—she didn't want to die, not now.

Reek braced himself, closed his eyes, lifted the blade.

"Let me die knowing you'll never forget what death looks like," she said, throwing Reek's words back at him.

Reek's eyes fluttered open. His arms were two stringy ropes, stretched to their furthest extent. The blade plunged. Wren, she thought, perhaps, if there's a next life, mother and father and I will be there, waiting for you.