Chapter 11: Escape
~Alex~
It's been a few days I think. I'm not sure - being underground except for when we're in the arena is disorienting. I've fought 14 times.
I've killed 14 times.
I hate it. I hate every second of it. I hate the gut-wrenching feeling as my sword slices through tendon, and I hate the sickening cheer of the crowd as I'm declared winner of each round.
Ronwan has been great for someone who coaches me through killing people; he's been patting my back and leading me to my cell/room, telling me it's fine to vomit and it's fine to hate every second and that he's sorry. He gets me good food and has even stocked me with an extra blanket.
Peter doesn't scream anymore.
I've been watching him from the sidelines as I prep for my fights. He's a machine, pure focus in his eyes: a trainer's wet dream. If I'm honest I'm scared; Peter is good, but he's usually an emotional fighter.
What's scarier is his trainer. Alycia is beautiful and dangerous and she controls him. He waits for her to tell him to kill. Sometimes she waits long enough for his opponents to beg.
It's awful, watching my king and my lover being possessed like that. There's no emotion in his face at every kill. If he pauses, she speaks to him quietly, and you can see him flinch in fear, and then his face turns to stone and he finishes the match.
I'm stretching now. Peter isn't fighting at the moment, and Ronwan has told me that it's because I'm fighting him next. I want to curl up in a ball and hide in the dark.
I can't kill him. I can't do it.
Ronwan comes up beside me. "This one will be tough, Lioness. I understand if you can't do it. But look at me, Alexa."
I turn my head, trying not to be angry at him.
He holds onto my shoulders, and moves me so I'm watching him. "I don't want you to die. If I could help you get out, I would."
"I don't have a choice."
"Yes, you do. Narnia has three other monarchs."
I wrench out of his grasp. "I don't have a choice."
The bell sounds, and I walk out into the arena, facing Peter. The bell rings again and we move forward, walking, careful. This is something I taught him, and it's something we do naturally now. The lack of momentum is unfortunate, but it usually throws the other fighter off.
Not so with us; it's something we're used to. We're five feet away now, silent, watching each other. Peter doesn't seem to recognize that it's me; there is no emotion in his eyes.
He doesn't use the sword held in his dominant hand. Instead he throws a punch. I let it land. He throws another, and I let that land, too. I won't fight him.
"Give a good show, sweetheart," he says, softly, eyes glancing to Alycia. I shake my head, which is a mistake because I don't see him aim a roundhouse kick into the knee of my bad leg. I crumple, as I hear a crack.
His sword is held tightly, the muscles in his arms that I helped shape standing out. I just want to hold him and tell him he doesn't have to kill anymore. But I can't.
He lunges, and I'm not expecting it and I'm on the ground already but now he's leaning over me. I hadn't done anything to stop it. Usually I like it when he's leaning over me. Usually we're laughing, or too busy pulling at each other's clothes and pressing kisses against each other's skin to laugh.
There isn't any laughing now. His breathing is ragged, and his eyes are flicking between mine, and then he opens his mouth and whispers softly, roughly, "I'm sorry. I have to do this. We wouldn't have lasted anyway, Lioness."
I close my eyes, grit my teeth, and try not to think about how warm he was as he kneeled on top of me.
The warmth is gone and I feel the cold kiss of steel against my neck. I realize that he's waiting for his trainer to give him the order.
But before the "kill" comes from Alycia's throat, another sound comes from the crowd, which is usually silent, awaiting the order as much as Peter is.
It's a roar I've only heard a few times before - one full of fury and desperation and raw power.
Luas.
Peter and I turn our heads as one to watch the Storm burst through the wall of guards and trainers, running towards us, Jason following directly behind. Jason's hands are out, magic streaming through his fingers. It's hitting Peter, who's fighting back with his own, but Jason isn't hailed as the most powerful mage in Narnia for nothing. Peter's been lifted off me, but he's fighting and he's desperate. I can't stand - my leg is broken. I can tell by the way it's lying, the bone sticking out of flesh that's already been scarred by fire. I must be in shock because I can't feel anything. Luas is kneeling beside me, examining my leg, whispering comforting things into my ear - or at least I think they're comforting. My head's gone a little fuzzy and I can't quite hear correctly, but I know I'm being picked up gently, and cradled close by someone who has never seemed to be a delicate person. I press my head into his chest and cry, trying not to but unable to stop.
"We need to go," Jason's voice is rough, strained, and I turn my head. He's got Peter in chains made from ice, unable to move but staring hatefully at us. There's desperation in his eyes and I realize that he doesn't understand that we're safe now. He thinks he'll be screaming again tonight. For Peter, failure doesn't mean death - it means torture.
The scene is still hectic. Guards are running towards us, and Luas can't fight because he's holding me, but Jason is proving his worth, throwing green fire at anyone who wants to get in our way. Luas is running now, apologizing the entire time for hurting me but I can't feel anything. I close my eyes and press my face back against his chest.
We're in the tunnels below the arena now, and Jason is leading, and I realize with a shock that he knows where he's going.
We're out in the city streets now. Jason is moving faster still and I can hear Luas panting. I mumble some sort of apology and he whispers softly that it's going to be okay.
I get the feeling he didn't hear me correctly.
Jason has two horses and an angry shopkeeper following him. The horses are on a string; the shopkeeper isn't. He growls something to Peter and points to a horse. Peter obliges, silent, shaky. Jason moves over to help Luas get me onto a horse, sidesaddle. I make some sort of noise as they lift me. Luas mounts up carefully, wrapping a strong arm around me and pulling me back against him. Jaso is saddled behind Peter, who is now tied up with the rope from the horses. Everything is going too fast. I want to sleep.
Luas glances behind us, at what I assume is a mob of guards. "We're losing time Jason."
"Yeah, I know, gimme a minute." I turn my head slowly to look at him. He's blazing with magic, forcing the crow in front of us to break through it.
And it is breaking, people being forced aside by a wall of green. Jason kicks his horse, swearing, and we're off, through the city, green fire leading us.
I've never been more impressed by my big brother, but right now I just want to be home. Luas is warm and comforting, even though the horse ride is anything but smooth.
We make it out of the city somehow and the pain is starting to come. I'm not just crying from mental pain. Every hoofbeat hurts, and soon I'm crying out at almost every step. We stop at nightfall.
The boys lift me off carefully, and set me down.
I'm out cold before I feel the ground beneath me.
