Author's Note:
Howdy y'all. I wanted to make some clarifications about the key, it does not necessarily lead to another dimension, just a more secret part of the arena that, right now, only certain tributes can get to.
Also, I'll be closing my final 8 poll after this chapter posts since there are deaths in this chapter (unlike the previous one) and those will affect who is and is not in the final 8. Next poll will be your favorite alliance (as of the end of this chapter, so read this first).
Also, as a heads up there is a time shift in this chapter, so it's not 100% chronological, rather it's sorted by evens as they happen in specific areas of the arena. This is noted in the POVs, but I wanted to give you an additional heads up.
Finally, there's a couple of heartbreaking deaths this chapter. All but 1 have to go at some point, so just a request that you don't stop reading if your favorites get killed. I hope I continue to do everyone justice.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or any of the related universe.
Name of Honor
Steric Tarthan – District 10 Mentor
She couldn't take it anymore! The night was drawing on, with no action in immediate sight, and Steric grew restless.
Aeden hadn't spoken in hours, hadn't moved in even longer. Ever since the bodies had begun to disappear, fading into darkness, he'd simply sat there, staring at the screen and shaking. Esthelrir sat beside him; he'd attempted to rouse him several times, offered him food, drink, as comforting an ear as could be asked for, but all to no avail. How could anyone expect him to mentor in this condition and for what? A little touch of special effects when a simple hovercraft would have sufficed? It was inhuman and she had to stop it.
"I've had enough of this," Steric stated, striding towards the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" Aphrodite demanded as she passed her.
"I'm going to talk to your father," she announced without stopping. At her brisk pace, Steric doubted anyone would have the speed or motivation to catch her.
"Wait!" the girl hollered behind her. Whether she was shocked that Steric knew Brutus's secret or that she was actually rushing out Steric didn't know and didn't care.
"He'll never see you," she objected, sprinting to catch up with the older mentor. "He wouldn't even talk to me earlier and that was before the Games, there' s no way he'll see you now. What's so urgent, anyhow?"
"What's so urgent?" Steric froze, every bone in her body wanting to floor Aphrodite right then,. "Aeden's been through enough, okay? He has been through hell." Aphrodite stared at her as though she were a raging lunatic.. She couldn't understand, of course not. She was a Mentor, but only in name. She wasn't a Victor. Esthelrir, though he'd never been in the Games, at least understood the frailty of human nature, the horrors of battle, how even the most stable soldier could be sent back to the nightmare from which they longed to escape with just a word, just an action. How much more a nationally televised battle and Mentors who basked in the spotlight, whether they liked it or not, year in and year out. "He doesn't need this stupid shit," Steric finished simply, turning tail and dashing away. If the girl was smart she wouldn't follow; anyone who knew Steric could see that and her way was cleared by Capitol sponsors. Despite the first night of the Games being teaming with people in the streets, Steric cleared the path.
"I don't get it, though," Aphrodite persisted, breathlessly pursuing her.. "It's been ten years since his Games. He should be fine."
"There is no such thing as fine," Steric declared, her eyes meeting Aphrodite's, her tone venomous.
"What do you think he'll do if you defy him?" Aphrodite called after Steric, in one last ditch effort to abate her plan of action. There was something in her voice, though, that made Steric think it wasn't Brutus that concerned her, but someone else. Steric smirked. It wouldn't have done to tell Aphrodite she wasn't afraid, especially not in the midst of the crowd, not with so many ears to overhear her arrogant words, with so many eyes to see her standing proud, defiant. She kept her peace, though, at least here in the open, for Mobie's sake.
In truth, though, she didn't fear Brutus, nor did she fear the President. She had seen all she needed in the Games and the years after to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they could no longer harm her.
She strode down the famous path, the path all Capitolites eyed and pointed at in wonder. Behind the doors, doors no one ever opened during the Games, was where all the work went on, where all of the puppeteers intimidated their puppets, where the magicians conducted their bloody business. And here she was, Steric Tarthan, standing just outside its limits.
Brutus Laertes – Head Gamemaker
"How dare you!" a familiar voice called. Brutus tried to place its tone without looking up; there were only so many women who would be calling at such late an hour, even fewer who would have dared to intrude upon his seclusion. "There's no point to this, just brutish, unjust cruelty!"
"I should have known it was you by the indignation in your voice, Steric" Brutus countered, looking up. She was livid and he could certainly guess why. "Do you object to my artistic developments?"
"I strongly object to senseless torture. Do you have any idea what you're doing?" she demanded, encroaching on him. He was intimidated by her, of course. Steric could have taken him down without any difficulty; she'd been intimidating when she had been a Victor in the Hunger Games and she had lost none of her potency. Yet now she had more at stake, there was an innocent life in the balance and it wasn't hers.
She wouldn't let that dissuade her, though, Brutus realized. There was a fire in her eyes, the flame of justice, perhaps, or simply frustration.
"I thought I was disposing of bodies in an efficient, pollution free, soundless method," Brutus offered, feigning innocence.
"There's no reason to do it that way and you know it."
"I see no reason not to," Brutus countered. "There will be no reprecussions of using darkness instead of the hovercraft and the audience loves it! It adds a mysterious element instead of the blaring sound and sight of a death machine. It's a treat that calls to mind a certain –"
"Aeden can't take it." Steric cut him off. Her voice was even and she had backed off slightly, but her eyes were no less intense.
"Darkness isn't water," Brutus offered, as though the thought hadn't occurred to him. Steric clearly didn't buy the argument for a second.
"Call it off. Just use the hovercraft, burn the bodies, anything else. Hey, find a cannibal and have them devoured that way, anything but that."
"Steric, perhaps you will learn that the demands of the many must be met. The Games are not only mine to create. Everyone plays a part."
"And where does honor fall into that unbalanced equation!" she demanded, losing her temper. "Aeden hasn't moved for hours, hasn't spoken. He's in shock, Brutus. Is that how a mentor's supposed to function? Both of his tributes are still alive. They've got a stake in this. It's not fair!" Steric was yelling now. Brutus cocked an eyebrow, fighting the compassion he felt. He knew this had to be done. He and the President had discussed it at length and this was the best option, or so Gaeus told him. There was no way Steric would believe him, though. When she was presented with her imagination of the other options, she never would imagine that the terrible path he had selected was, in truth, the lesser of two evils.
There was only so much he could tell her, he thought as a terrible silence filled the room. Her gaze was as accusing as a courtroom of thousands condemning his actions. In her eyes he didn't see only her, he saw all those this touched: the tributes, the other mentors, all of Panem really. It was just a metaphor, though, Brutus said, taking a deep breath, Metaphors were harmless, useful only in literature and propaganda.
"Steric, I sympathize," he admitted, his voice low. He took her to the side. "This is for his own good, for everyone's own good. Trust me, he will need this before long in order to . . . to avoid the worst. I hope he comes to his senses."
Candice Graham – District 9
This certainly wasn't the worst it could be, Candice repeated to herself once more. Ailis had woken her maybe half an hour ago for her turn at watch. In that time, so far as she could tell, all had been quiet. Eerily quiet now that Candice thought of it. The brilliance of the day had now faded into the breathless night especially here, on the edge of the swamp.
Ibrahima had taken the first watch, assuring his allies that if the Careers or other tributes would attack it would be then. He had been relieved by Freida and then she by Ailis. Who knew how the others had kept time. By the moon, perhaps, but by this hour of the night it had set and all was as dark as the depths of a chasm.
Candice disliked it, but tried to convince herself it was only the darkness.
"It's just as though we were camping, like they used to do in the old days," she told herself. "Just the four of us, not a care in the world, beneath a wide open sky."
Tomorrow, Ibrahima had promised. Tomorrow they would find a more secure location, somewhere they could build shelter. For tonight, though, he couldn't imagine anyone taking on an alliance so large just yet. After all, they numbered only one less than the Careers.
The wind blew, but only a little. The slightest change in the atmosphere, after such a long time of stagnation, surprised Candice, making her jump slightly. It was nothing but the wind, she assured herself, her gaze once again scanning the horizon.
She wished she were better able to see, she thought as she readjusted. Then she froze. In the silence of the arena she was all of a sudden certain that she was aware of another presence. Whether she had seen something in the depths of the darkness or heard something rustling in the silence, she couldn't say, but she did know, beyond a doubt they weren't safe any more. She dashed over to Ailis, the most recent fallen asleep and shook her.
"Wake up," she hissed desperately. Ailis stirred, groggily.
"What?" she asked, not fully comprehending. Candice found she couldn't speak, couldn't even think to say what was wrong. She hadn't actually seen anything, she thought, second guessing herself. Was it really worth waking her allies, sacrificing the rest they were getting for a hunch? Then the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and her hand brushed across the rope Ailis held.
"We're not safe," she hissed. That got Ailis to her feet. Quickly she motioned for Candice to wake Freida and she went to Ibrahima's side. Ailis didn't question her, Candice thought. That was trust. She could have been paranoid or leading the others into a trap, but right now that didn't matter. She had Ailis's confidence and, given the ease with which Freida and Ibrahima rose, theirs as well.
"We should go if you heard something," Ibrahima suggested, his voice a whisper.
"Which way?" Ailis asked just before a strange thing happened. At that very instant, it seemed to Candice as though the entire arena became darker, more encompassed like a grave.
"I think that's them!" a male voice cried out, triumphantly, but it wasn't Ibrahima. Candice's blood ran cold and she knew they had been spotted. Was this it? Would her life end here, in the darkness, with only her allies, seeming invisible by her side.
Then, Candice felt something in her hand. She nearly cried out, thinking it a snake or some other creepy crawly insect, but then she felt a hand on her shoulder and knew it to be the hand of a friend. Ailis's rope. It had to be.
"This way," Ailis whispered. "They're as confused as we are. If we can get up in the trees, we'll lose them."
It felt almost like they were back in training, making their way through the darkness, only this time four of them were strung together and they had pursuit on their tails. It seemed as though a black smoke encompassed them all, making sight impossible and confusing their hearing. Luckily, the rope seemed to glow, despite the lack of light, and Ailis guided them in the right direction. Ibrahima took up the rear, clutching his weapons closely. They must have been going for a solid five minutes when Candice felt another great wind blow over their heads, as though some great bird was flying over.
"What was that?" she asked, unable to resist.
"It doesn't matter, keep going," Freida hissed behind her, her voice urgent.
"There! This time for sure!" a girl's voice sounded. So the boy wasn't alone. But where were he and his ally? Candice paused for a moment, then felt the rope tug upward. Her hand collided with the bark of a tree.
"Up," Ailis hissed from a branch above her and pulled Candice up. Even as her hands began to grip the branches a light began to bless the world with its unexpected dawning. Morning had come and with it new eyes.
"Yes!" the boy from 1 exclaimed, less than 100 yards behind him. Candice couldn't help herself. She screamed as her fingers grappled with the second branch.
"Screaming's not going to do you any good! Move your tail!" Freida demanded from behind. She crowded up onto the second branch. They wouldn't be that far above the heads of their pursuers; if they truly wanted them down from the tree right now they would be, and now, with the daylight's betrayal, if they were to climb up they were both doomed.
"We shouldn't have come up here," Candice breathed, trying to steady herself.
"It's okay. We'll figure something out," Ailis soothed her, all the while her eyes on Ibrahima as the two tributes from one got closer and closer. He made no move to climb the tree, but rather reached into the bag of supplies from the Cornucopia.
"Ibra!" Freida yelled, her voice shrill and her hand grasping the branch. He flashed her a cocky smile, seeming to be wordlessly saying that he was ready for this. With that, he produced his first African throwing blade.
It squarely hit its mark, hitting Killian straight in the shoulder. The boy cried out, but continued charging at Ibrahima. The second he deflected with his sword, more prepared for that one than he had been the first. He would not underestimate Ibrahima's aim again, it seemed as he'd nearly reached him before Candice's ally threw the third at Saphyra, seemingly trying an alternate target. She too dodged his blow and then they were upon him.
Freida Vasey - District 4
"No!" Freida shouted as she saw the two other tributes closing in on Ibrahima. He would have stood a chance against one of them, maybe even would have beaten them easily, but against two the fight would be difficult, especially as he was now fumbling for a useful weapon or more space. He couldn't use his throwing spears, not with the closing distance between himself and the other tributes. But he had others. If only he had time to find them.
There wasn't going to be time, though. Killian's sword was prepared for a killing blow and it was all Ibrahima could do to step pace with him, keeping some distance between himself and the greater threat. Saphyra, not to be outdone, though, began throwing knives at him carelessly, as though she were only there for sport.
"We've got to help him!" Freida said, but then turned and looked at her allies. Candice was trembling, too shell shocked that they were actually in the Games now, now that there was blood and death and danger instead of just the fantasies and fears of things to come and Ailis was trapped behind her. If something was to be done it fell upon her.
Fearlessly, Freida leapt from the tree and dashed in, weaponless.
The girl from 1 hadn't seen her coming until she barrelled into her, but she gave a satisfying scream when Freida tackled her to the ground. One down, she thought as she fought with her, fighting to trap her hands, her feet. The larger girl thrashed about like a desperate fiend, but that didn't scare Freida. Her brothers had done this to her all the time and she was now proud to be on the giving end instead of the receiving. Behind her, though she could not see it, she heard the clash of metal. Ibrahima must have drawn his sword. She smiled a bit, knowing her distraction had worked.
Then the larger girl got a sudden burst of energy, flipping Freida off of her. Freida stumbled back and the world was spinning in confusion. She saw Ibrahima and heard him cry out as Nero struck. Had he killed him? Then a flash of metal and one of the African spikes imbedded itself in his leg and Freida could tell Ibrahima was still alive.
As the world slowed, Freida felt it, the pain in her neck. What had happened, she wasn't sure. Everything had been a blur, like the time she had been concussed by her older brother. She saw the two other tributes running off, towards the Cornucopia maybe. But why? Why would they run when they were still in the thick of it?
Then she felt the hand on her back, a clasp of victory, perhaps, a job well done. She heard a gasp. Her own, she realized as the wind began to slow, her breathe began to wheeze.
She couldn't even see the wound, she realized as she saw tears welling in Ibrahima's eyes and felt her breath grow more ragged, more desperate.
"I'm sorry, Freida," he whimpered. "You're going to be okay."
"What happened?" she asked. She couldn't really grasp what had happened, but her head was pounding and every word she spoke seemed as though she was further away from its source, as though she was being distanced from her own body.
"Saphyra wounded you, but we're going to get medicine. It'll be all right," he asserted. From the corner of her eye she saw blood oozing from her neck. Yes, that must have been what happened. She heard a scramble behind her and turned to see Ailis standing beside her along with Candice. Had they finally come down from the tree and frightened the Careers. Maybe, she thought, since Ailis was holding some sort of weapon while Candice menaced an unseen enemy with a rope.
"You promise just like my brother," she heard her voice say. She wasn't grasping another tributes' hand, but her own brother's. It was so simple. All the horrors of the arena were slipping away and her brother was at her side. She was home.
Ailis Neilan - District 3
She couldn't believe it, Ailis thought, staring in utter disbelief as Freida's cannon's sounded. Only hours ago they had been safe, absolutely secure that they would be together for days. Their strategy, Ibrahima's strategy, had been sound. And, yet, here she lay.
Ailis could feel her hands shaking, yet she knew she had to be strong for Candice, for Ibrahima even. It was to Freida that they owed his presence in their alliance, it was Freida who had helped to orchestrate their attack at the Cornucopia, Freida who had had the courage to rush in when Candice and Ailis had both hesitated to protect their friend. And look how it had repaid her. Yes, they'd jumped in at the last second and seemed to have dissuaded the boy and girl from attacking further, but only after the damage had been done. It had been too late.
Unbidden, Ailis could feel the first tears dripping down her face. Ibrahima too was in tears; none of his jolly banter could quell this wound.
"She called me brother," Ibrahima whispered as he finally lay her body down. There was blood on his shoulder, his own or Freida's Ailis wasn't sure. The way he was carrying himself, though, now was clearly not the time to inquire, not the time to pester.
"We have to move from here," he declared, his face grave. "But this isn't over. They turned tail and ran, those cowards. They turned and ran when I should have finished them off, should have made them pay!"
"It was my fault," Candice faltered, her lip quivering. "I should have seen them earlier. Should have warned you earlier." Ibrahima shook his head, but couldn't find the words to calm her in his anger. That fell to Ailis, she realized.
"Shh," she soothed, wrapping her arms around the younger girl's shoulders and drawing her close. "You couldn't have known how this would end. You can't blame yourself. The dark is the dark and death is death. You couldn't have prevented either of them."
"But we can prevent ours, and cause theirs. We will avenger her. We'll make them pay! " Ibrahima declared, thrusting his finger at the body. Following the direction of his finger, Candice screamed. Ailis made a move to silence her, but found herself shaking equally, for Freida's body was dissolving into darkness, as though it were becoming the night itself, despite the full blown sunshine that shone overhead. First her blonde hair, then her feet, then the shadow began to come over her at either end until, symmetrically, she vanished, as though her body had never lain there. She simply was no more.
"Let's go," Ibrahima roused them, and the three of them went, unsure of their direction.
Saphyra Cullen - District 1
"I can't believe it!" Killian cursed kicking the nearest rock. It nearly clonked Saphyra in the head.
"Hey, watch it!" Saphyra snapped. "I get it, you're pissed. We didn't get the boy, but hey, who knew he was so accurate with those throwing weapons. Next time we'll catch him, sneak up before he can get the jump on us. And we'll get his allies out of the way."
"Yeah, sure," Killian said. "In fact, let's go back right now. They're bound to be crying their eyes out about the girl. We finish them off. All three right now."
"You really think that's a good idea?" Saphyra hesitated. It was unlike her to turn down a challenge like this and, deep within, she could feel the desire to take him at his word even now as her intellect battled ferociously within her to obtain dominance over her instinct. They were outnumbered, even with only the three of them and Killian was wounded, even if he didn't want to admit it because of his pride.
"What's the worst that could happen?" he demanded. "I didn't think you'd back down. I didn't realize you were such a sissy."
"I'll let you live this once, but if you call me that again, you won't live long enough to regret it," Saphyra growled at him. He might be her ally, but if he couldn't see reason even he wasn't safe from her wrath. He had to acknowledge that it this was going to work. "Besides, I'd like to point out that you're the one who let that excuse for a Career hit you with those sharp points. If I didn't know any better, I'd call you clumsy."
"Like you said, he's got a good aim. It's just a scratch, though. I'm ready to go after them right now!"
"We should get the others, though, she insisted.
"Yeah, get the two pretenders and Nero? And leave who at the Cornucopia?" Killian scoffed.
"You got your kill. If we kill everybody else in one day that just means we'll have to turn on each other sooner," she reasoned, hoping this would strike a chord. The unspoken truth within their alliance was, of course, that it could only last so long. Even if they completely dominated the arena, killed their entire opposition, then they would have to turn their weapons on each other. With all of the skills possessed by the group there was no clear advantage, but if Killian had any sense he would know that the advantage didn't lie with him as long as he was wounded. She assessed his mood, fingering her knife. Had the time for turning on allies come already, she wondered, watching his expression.
"How did they scare us off?" he sighed, frustrated. "We're better than they are and we only took out the girl because she came down."
"If she hadn't we would have taken out the boy for certain."
"But we should have anyway. I should have any way. I'll show him," Killian growled, determinedly. "They should all be dead!"
"Since we're still close, how about I scout and see where they've gotten to. They wouldn't have stayed where they were, not with us so close at hand," she pointed out. Killian nodded. "Sit down until I come back and don't let anyone attack you."
"You don't remember how to put on a tourniquet do you?" Killian asked reluctantly. He finally had acknowledged the wound. That was progress, Saphyra supposed, rather than ignoring his injury.
"Not the foggiest. I'll bet know-it-all remembers, though," Saphyra grimaced, imagining Jonas's smug smile at being asked to contribute.
She left him sitting there and ventured onward in the direction from which they had come, sprinting from rock to rock; she had no desire to meet with a similar fate as Killian, especially now that they knew exactly how deadly Ibrahima's aim had been. Within a couple of minutes she had made it to the tree where the group had been hiding. Sure enough, they were nowhere to be found. It would just be the three of them now, Saphyra thought, glancing around to see if there were footprints or any sign of flight. They must have been stealthy, she thought, for she saw nothing. Killian wouldn't be glad of that news, she thought, but at least they knew where they were not. Not wanting to venture too much further without the benefit of any of her allies present, she skirted the edge of the visible rocks and trees bordering and then returned to Killian.
"Well? You were gone for a while. Did you find them?" he demanded, impatiently.
"No, but I know where they'll be in a bit."
"How?" Killian asked, a skeptical tone evident in his voice.
"Think about it. We know Ibrahima. He's commanding; the rest of the group would defer to him because of his experience and his knowledge. He's got to be pissed that we took out his district partner. They were starting to get on pretty well. He's going to brood about it for a while and then what's going to be his next move once he recovers."
Killian didn't have to think about that one. "The same thing I'd do if someone took you out: revenge."
"Exactly. He'll move to take out the Cornucopia. We'll have the advantage there with all of the supplies and the height. We'll be able to see him from a mile away. Nero can take him down with-"
"No," Killian interrupted her vehemently. "Nero can take out his allies, but not Ibrahima. He's mine!"
Tanner Amori - District 12 . . . (hours before while it's still night. About the same time Candice is keeping watch.)
There were no good options, Tanner reflected as he looked across the expanse from the pair. It was almost as though they mirrored each other without the other group seeming to even realize it. Just like he and Leoric, Margery and Elric had switched off watches every couple of hours during the night. Neither of them had heard anything, which was a blessing. A quiet night, bereft of cannon fire, screams or any sign of any other tributes in the area. To be honest, though, that worried Tanner.
Had he known what else was going on, whether the other group still dominated the Cornucopia, whether they'd been challenged, dispersed, begun to fight among themselves, he would have been more at ease. At this point, with so many players still remaining in the game, knowledge was power, and Tanner felt utterly powerless. He didn't even have the ability to strike the wall or lash out in frustration, in restlessness, for fear of being overheard.
Leoric slept, seemingly peacefully. He had wanted to ally with Margery, wanted to see if she was open to an alliance. She seemed competent, to be certain. She had been vigilant on her watch, scouting out, but never venturing far from Elric. For the brief time that her back had been turned, Tanner had briefly entertained the thought of attacking the boy in his sleep. If he had been lucky and she had been detained he could have snapped the boy's neck and perhaps made it off before the girl realized what had happened. But there had been so many factors. Perhaps the cannon would have alerted her before he could flee, maybe he couldn't actually snap someone's neck, after all, he'd never tried, maybe the boy would wake up. Who could say? And then, of course there was, perhaps, the most important factor of all, that Margery and Elric were by no means the most threatening foes in the arena. In the end, Tanner highly doubted his life would be directly influenced by anything either of them had done. Margery, the more competent one, would be no competition for himself if it came to a physical fight, except in this particular situation, where she was armed and he was not. Once he had a proper weapon in his hands and was able to defend himself she would not stand a chance. And he wasn't about to take out someone to distract those who were more dangerous. But should he really take Leoric's advice and ally with them.
He stood again, checking on the boy again. It was Elric's watch now and he seemed to be taking it equally seriously, keeping his sword at the ready and rotating every couple of minutes. He wouldn't venture about though, not without Margery's instruction or knowledge.
What did they do, then, in this stalemate in which they seemed to be incarcerated? The only answer seemed to be to obtain resources and they certainly couldn't do that sitting there. The darkness wouldn't be in their favor forever. The dawn would come soon enough, and with it any element of surprise they would have had in charging the Cornucopia would be lost until the next sundown. They had to seize the moment now, with or without allies. Would Leoric be willing to charge in without the advantage of numbers, though? He would just have to find out.
"Wake up," Tanner whispered to Leoric. By this time he should be well rested enough. He woke easily enough and in hushed tones, Tanner gave him his suggestion. Leoric looked hesitantly over at the other group, clearly trying to decide.
"They might have all dispersed. They might not all be there. Who knows? Maybe they all left to go hunting for tributes. After all, there were only six cannons in the bloodbath. They're bloodthirsty Careers!" Tanner pointed out, only hoping that his words would sway his ally. Leoric looked at him in fear and Tanner realized that his voice had probably reached an audible level. He looked over at the boy from five and, sure enough, he was looking about, leaning over to wake Margery. "I guess it's now or never. Do we want them to come with us?" Their options were running thin. They could run, but only if they got out of there fast. In the darkness it would be difficult, to say the least, to see in front of their own faces and navigate the twists and turns of the city. They might get separated. Then again, Margery and Elric both had weapons. If the tide of their conversation turned less than friendly they might not be able to escape then.
"Let's chance it," Leoric said, his voice hesitant. "I wish it weren't them. If they come with and it turns ill, I'd hoped that Margery would be the victor if not I."
"Don't talk like that yet," Tanner insisted. It wasn't time for planning for just in case. It was time to speak of attack plans, alliances and aggressive action.
Elric Trace - District Five
He had to hide his fear from her, he knew as he shook Margery awake.
"I heard something," he whispered, determined not to make the same mistake his neighbors had. Neighbors, he thought, they had been close, certainly in the same ruins. He hadn't recognized the voice, but it had been unmistakably one of the other tributes, not a figment of his imagination, nor the booming voice of an announcer nor the silent twinge of a voice from a dream. The voice had been the most terrifying thing he had heard, besides the cannons.
"Where did it come from?" she asked, sleepily. Did she not believe him?
"Off to the right. It was close. Someone's here." That awoke her. She grasped her daggers tighter as she rose and adjusted the sword in his hand, standing tall above him.
"Stay close," she whispered and she took his hand. They were going after whoever it was, Elric realized. It made sense, he supposed as he convinced his feet to move forward following Margery. One after another they moved forward without the benefit of his eyesight.
"Margery, it's me, Leoric," Elric heard a voice, closer than it had been before and different too. The other must have belonged to one of his allies. How many of them were there? Elric found himself trying to remember who had been in that alliance, the large group of boys. Several of them were already accounted for in the bloodbath, but were the rest of them there as well? Were they horribly outnumbered? Maybe they had even made more allies and this was a trap.
"I called for you earlier. Why didn't you answer?" Margery asked, stopping in her tracks and standing beside Elric, the point of her weapon in the direction of the voice.
"Can you blame me? You're armed. We didn't make it out of the Cornucopia with anything. I thought you were luring me in for the kill." That made sense based on what he'd overheard, Elric supposed. He'd heard someone, presumably one of Leoric's allies, speaking angrily of the Careers. If half their allies hadn't made it out of the bloodbath and they didn't have any supplies from the Cornucopia he would have been angry too.
Elric looked up at Margery for guidance. He couldn't see her properly because of the darkness, but from her letting down her guard for a moment she was clearly thinking of the possibility of an alliance. It might be good, Elric thought, to have some other tributes with them, instead of just the two of them. What if the boy was lying to them, though, luring them into letting down their guard so he could attack them, take their weapons.
"Who is with you?" Margery demanded. "I know you're not by yourself."
"Just Tanner, from District 12," Leoric said. She could hear his footsteps approaching. "Don't come any closer until I can see you," Margery ordered.
"Well, that's going to be a while. Dawn's a ways away." the other boy said.
"That's the voice I heard," Elric confirmed.
"Well, if we don't wait, how do I know it's just the two of you?"
"Light a fire or something?" the first boy, Leoric answered.
"Why not just wait until morning?" Margery countered.
"Why not just trust me? If we were going to attack you we would have done it already. Besides, we've got a proposal. We want to take on the Cornucopia while it's still dark, while we have the element of surprise, so we're going to have to move quickly."
"You really think you're going to surprise that group?" Margery scoffed. "They have Nero. He'll shoot you dead before you get close." She wasn't going to tell them about the secret path, Elric realized. That was their secret, so he wasn't about to speak a word either.
"If it's dark he can't see in the distance to shoot. Even if they've got a fire of some sort it won't protrude so deep into the darkness that he'd be able to see us coming. Now is the best chance we've got, before they get terribly adventurous. What do you think?"
"Give us a moment," Margery said, turning to Elric. "What do you think?" she asked in turn. He hesitated. In the darkness he couldn't read her face, couldn't tell what advice he wanted him to give her. It was clear what the other group wanted, though, and perhaps at this stage it would benefit them to be political. The other boy did have a point about the darkness.
"I think sometimes there are certain courses that do need to be explored," Elric answered vaguely, hoping she would understand. Margery turned back to Leoric to give their answer.
Dane Vautier - District 2
They weren't targeting her after all. Dane wanted to laugh out loud that she'd even been frightened. After the disastrous interview she had figured there would be an outrage among her allies, with her mentor, the Capitolites even, to discover that someone had so sullied District Two's name. She didn't know who they would believe, Dane herself or the awful lies being spouted by the interviewer and the Head Gamemaker. When they had entered the Games, she had expected that Brutus would even have arranged it so that she would die in the bloodbath, perhaps bribing her allies, her enemies, anyone to eliminate the stain of rebellion. Clearly this hadn't been the case, or, rather, if it had been, it had failed miserably. The night was nearly over and Dane still lived. The most dangerous period was over, the time when all 23 tributes could have taken her on. Now they were all scattered. The only current threats were both asleep, leaving her to watch and Dane knew they wouldn't dare turn on her. Killian and Saphyra might have, but if they were going to do that, the time would have been during the bloodbath or immediately after. They would have had the strength in numbers against her, after all. Nero, though, she could trust him. He was her district partner, after all, and had been just as shocked as she with the accusations. Surely he would never turn on her and Jonas was wiser than that. Despite all of his fancy words he wasn't all that bad, even if he could come off as condescending.
She could use them both, she thought to herself. Now that she was secure in the knowledge that she was safe, she would just use them until the time came to leave them, or stab them in the back, and then, soon enough, she would be back in Kelian's arms.
She could almost feel him now, she thought, as she gazed into the darkness. It was the friendly darkness of imagination, where the embers from the fire that Jonas had lit turned into his eyes, the wind dashing around transformed into his mouth on hers; the warmth extending from the fire became his arms around her. She sighed and knew she would be back home soon.
Just at that moment she happened to glance down over the edge of the Cornucopia and thought she saw a moving shadow. Maybe Jonas and Nero hadn't been such idiots to light torches on the stairways leading up to the Cornucopia, she reflected as she became more and more certain. At least one tribute was making their way up the Northern Staircase, maybe more than one. She should wake the boys, she thought.
Or she could run. She could abandon the Cornucopia, leave the two of them asleep, to be prey for whoever was coming. That would leave two down, two of the more powerful in the arena and whoever was coming up the stairs. Surely there would be blood spilt on both sides. She could get down the other side with enough speed. But where would she go from there?
No, she thought. She needed to prove herself to the sponsors, to everyone watching. Tributes who fled from a well defended Cornucopia wouldn't get any sponsors, they weren't victor material, certainly. But if she stood and fought alongside her allies she would achieve recognition in their eyes. Yes, that was surely the course of action, the way to get herself home. She turned to wake them up, only to discover that they were both on their feet, Nero's bow in hand and Jonas's sword in his. Both seemed to be ready for action.
"There's someone on the stairs," Dane announced, her voice trembling. She had to stop that. The audience could hear every word. "I think there's more than one of them," she announced, her voice stronger, more confident. They could do this, she assured herself as she picked up a sword. It was her best weapon, she thought, holding it tight. She had had some practice with it, after all, though it paled in comparison to Nero's skill, maybe even to Jonas's. She just hoped it was enough, she thought as she stepped closer to her allies.
"Who is it?" Nero asked.
"I don't know. They're coming from the North. They were trying pretty hard to stay out of the light."
"Then it isn't the group our allies sought. They are many things, but discretion isn't listed among their chief virtues," Jonas replied.
"I'll start the offensive," Nero stated.
"Wait, it could be our allies returning," Dane thought suddenly. What if she had been mistaken and the shadows were actually Killian and Saphyra? They would truly be diminished in number if she was wrong.
"There are more than two of them," Jonas said simply. "Look at the shadows that are being cast. They're trying to combine them, but there are at least three of them. They're just walking close, but the way the light falls, it's apparent they at least equal us in number."
"Let's even those odds," Nero said, fitting an arrow to the string. They heard a cry below, a boy's voice. A second arrow followed quickly. "Go guard the top of the stairs," Nero told her. Dane took a deep breath and did as she was told. The assailants would nearly be there, she thought, and there hadn't been a cannon yet. Whoever Nero's arrow had struck, the blow hadn't been fatal.
"I'll accompany you," Jonas offered. "I'm stronger with a sword than I am with a bow." Dane sighed slightly; she had been hoping to show off her true skill solo.
In a moment, though, she was glad Jonas had accompanied her as she saw the boy from 12 charging towards her. He put on some speed and tried to dash straight between them. Jonas's sword caught him on the arm as he sped past and her ally turned around, just as Tanner charged for Nero.
"At your back," Jonas yelled to advise Nero, cutting the boy off. He wouldn't make it to the Cornucopia, Dane thought with satisfaction as Nero turned around. Now she just needed to take care of the two who were hanging back, just beyond the bend in the stairs. There was one girl and one boy, but Dane couldn't remember their districts; beyond her allies all of the other districts sort of blended together. The boy was standing upright, holding a sword in her direction as the girl held a dagger threateningly. They were discussing and then, just as Dane had thought they would back up, they charged, catching her off guard. She managed to parry the girl's attack, but was too distracted to stop the boy as well. While she was distracted, though, he dashed for the Cornucopia, attempting the upward slope while everyone else was occupied. The girl couldn't keep her busy for long, though, she thought as her assailant seemed to be tiring. She glanced back down the stairs at where her injured colleague was, presumably and then glanced over at the Cornucopia in the distance. She turned tail and rushed down the stairs.
She shouldn't follow her, Dane knew, not with so much going on here uptop. Would the girl dash off, though, or only try to fool her? Who could say? For now, she knew she needed to help the boys.
As she turned, though, she realized she was too late. Nero had backed up towards the Cornucopia, preparing to defend it and then she saw why. The blonde boy who had charged her earlier lay bleeding from several wounds from Nero's arrows and Jonas's sword, groaning in pain.
"You cannot die yet," Jonas decreed. "We still need information. Who were your allies? What information do you have about the arena?" Jonas's sword pinned the boy down through the leg, not in a vital organ, but he seemed to be in enough agony.
"We didn't explore," the boy pleaded. Tanner, she seemed to remember. That had been his name. "There's a city to the North, sort of ruins, but it was dark."
"And who were you with, surely you know that," Jonas's voice was different, but determined, a sincere tone Dane had never heard in her life and then it dawned on her, maybe this was Jonas's power play. How could she not have thought of this? She wanted to step in, but an inflamed look from Jonas told her that was unwise. "I want their names," his voice had lowered, dangerously.
"Leoric and Margery, district 8. And Elric, the boy from five. That's it," Tanner coughed, in pain. "Now, give me medicine. I can still be useful to you."
Jonas leaned down and looked the boy directly in the face. "Your utility has expired," he said simply. Then, without warning, he slashed his sword through the boy's neck and his head was severed from his body. Dane screamed. She had thought Jonas would spare him, though as she stood staring at the carnage, she realized she didn't know why. Sparing him would have only lengthened their fight.
"Why are you standing there?" Jonas demanded as Tanner's cannon sounded. "There's a boy at the Cornucopia! Does this not trouble you in the least?" Dane looked at him in confusion, but dashed towards the Cornucopia, despite the fact that Nero was already there. She could hear Jonasfollowing her, but at a distance. Was he waiting for the other tributes to come back up the stairs? They had to be Margery and Leoric, since the boy from 5 was the one who was at the Cornucopia. She despised making her way up to the Cornucopia in the darkness, but took comfort in the fact that it would be lighter when she descended. As she approached, she heard screaming from the Cornucopia. Nero had a sword, but she could only see his lower half from her angle, thrashing about. Then a loud scream. Which tribute it belonged to she couldn't tell.
She reached them and saw blood gushing over the Cornucopia. Even as she feared for him, Nero emerged, intact, but covered in blood.
"He escaped, but not unscathed," Nero reported. From where she stood, Dane could see the horrid blood, surely more than the boy could have survived shedding and the remains of a hand. "He got away with some supplies, but not as many as he would have with two hands." Her district partner's voice was filled with remorse. He hadn't wanted to kill the boy, she knew, but it had to be done. In order to maintain power, sacrifices had to be made. He backed up, wiping his hands off on his pants.
"The other two seem to have run off," Jonas's voice came from behind her. Dane felt a wash of relief come over her; there had been enough death for one day. Nero nodded his head, as if in agreement.
"Let's go back, then. This height in the dark is giving me the creeps," she said, turning. But she was met with a sharp pain in her chest. Her eyes wide in surprise, she looked into Jonas's stern face.
"The rebellion can never rise," he declared, his voice even, simply stating a fact. The pain was spreading, but she could still fight. She would make it through this was some trick.
She looked down, half expecting to awake from a nightmare. Instead she saw the wound, gushing with blood with every pump of her slowing heart. She was shaking in fury, in fear, in regret. She struggled to free herself, to find a weapon, but she couldn't. She felt a second stab on her other side. It didn't hurt as much, the damage already done, until she turned her head, that is. Nero's blade penetrated her other side. He said nothing, but his tired eyes reflected not regret, but coldness, or was that her own feelings reflecting in his dark eyes?
"Kel," she whispered her husband's name, glancing into the distance at the friendly fire, growing dimmer with each passing moment. She felt a hand on her shoulder, equally as cold as the stone she would feel soon, a hand passing through her hair. Her husband! It had to be. He would sweep her away without a care, take her into his arms and end this. Would she still feel his presence even when she'd left him, she wondered? Tears welled in her eyes before they closed for good.
Margery Kelta - District 8
Margery was still shaking with the effort. She'd had to choose at the top of the pillar, choose between following Elric to get supplies, charging up to the Cornucopia in the dark or helping Leoric below. There had been no good option, perhaps there were never good options in the Games.
She had done her best, though, and as she raced back to the secret entrance, she could only hope that her best had been enough. She had raced back down the stairs, helped Leoric back to the city, back to safety, relatively speaking. He had been wounded, in the dark she couldn't tell how badly, but she believed he would survive at least until morning when they could use the medicines Elric must have grabbed. They had made an informal list of what needed to be acquired before they left, medicine if someone was injured in the attempt, supplies to light a fire, water and food. Food was the least important since there were, no doubt, items they could hunt, berries they could eat. They could make do without everything else, but right now medicine was rapidly becoming their top priority.
Margery had found the tunnel and darted into it, hoping Elric had been wise enough to take it back down, hoping he was still on his way and hadn't darted off blindly in search of them.
She couldn't cry out, she knew, she would just have to count on finding him in the dark. She proceeded upwards a ways, her eyes tiring with the strain of pretending they were being useful. Nothing. After a couple more minutes, a bit more movement, there was still nothing. Margery's pulse began to race in worry. What if she never found Elric? What if, instead of him, one of the other tributes descended from above? There had been a pair of cannons since she had left the boy. Had one of them been his? Her hands continued to propel her forward, half climbing half crawling through the narrow passageway.
Just ahead of her she heard a groan. Surely it wasn't one of the Careers. She pressed on with a bit more speed and sure enough, found a body, still moving.
"Elric?" she questioned, uncertain in the lighting.
"I got the supplies," he whispered, his voice faint.
"Come on, let's get you down."
"I'm sorry, I didn't get as many of them as we agreed on. I got medicine, though. It's the last thing I grabbed with my good hand," he grimaced as Margery began to move him. He was injured too, clearly, how badly Margery couldn't say. She hated this uncertainty. She never should have let Leoric talk her into this. She wrapped her arm around the boy's waist, trying to support his weight as they crawled awkwardly. After what seemed like an eternity, they emerged into the faint light of dawn. The sight shocked Margery. Elric's left hand was completely gone, gushing blood everywhere, all over her, all over himself.
"Oh, god," she exclaimed. This couldn't be happening. "You're going to be fine," she ordered, clinging to the boy's shoulders as though through her words and by the force of her strength she could will it to be so. "We'll get you medicine and then I'm going to get whoever did this and the two of us will finish them off together. The boy from 2? It was the boy from 2, right? He's going to pay."
"Just be glad we got what we came for," Elric said, his voice quivering. "I guess I never really got the hang of the sword."
"Yes you did," Margery replied, fighting tears. She held his good hand tightly in her own, barely believing that this was really happening. Both of her allies were abandoning her, both people she'd trained with gone so soon, too soon. By the time she returned Leoric too might be dead. "Elric, you learned to use your weapons better than I ever did. You learned to put them down and make allies. If it weren't for you, I'd be alone right now."
"Go find Leoric," Elric whispered.
"No, I'm going to stay with you until . . ."
He withdrew his hand, cutting her off. "There's still a chance for you. I don't want you to see the end. Please go."
She couldn't ignore his last request. Placing him against the pillar she began to walk. An arrow struck the ground beside her and she broke into a run, tears of regret falling to the ground.
"I'm sorry," she whispered as she finally got out of Nero's range. Even as she spoke she heard the cannon behind her.
Ridge Therne – District 11
The sound of the cannons made Ridge jump.
"Watch it," Altair mumbled, still sound asleep. The girl could have slept through anything. Ridge was hoping the oncoming dawn would waken her before he would have to. He couldn't imagine her being a terribly pleasant morning person.
Suddenly another sound split the silent morning air, not the booming of a cannon, but more like a screech. It came from above, Ridge realized and his eyes looked up just in time to see a shadow pass over him. It was so far above he couldn't distinguish its features from below, but he followed its track.
"What was that?" Altair muttered, drowsily rousing herself. Ridge simply pointed up at the sky at the monstrous creature high above. It was gliding away from them, seemingly towards a mountain in the distance, on the other side of the arena.
"That was beautiful," he whispered as the creature blended into the distance, supposedly landing. "If I could only be riding like that, high above the clouds."
"We'd be unstoppable," Altair finished, her eyes bright and awake.
Ridge grinned back. "Are you up for a bit of a walk?"
Raivel Aukins - District 3
"Do you have any idea what we're looking for?" Raivel asked for the fifth time. He was leading Bailey every which way through the tunnels, but they had been traveling for hours without a precise destination. It was certainly an adventure, but he hadn't seen anything promising in a while.
"I don't know," Bailey replied, just as he had thought she might. Who ever knew anything in the Hunger Games. They were looking for whatever that key went to, only hoping that it would be something beneficial to them. They'd been on the search for hours though and Bailey was doubtless getting tired. He would have been too if not for the thrill of the chase.
"Do you think this is just something to keep us distracted? Maybe entertain the sponsors?" Bailey asked.
"No," Raivel responded, firmly. It couldn't be, not if her mentor had had a hand in sending it. "There's a purpose, I know it."
Almost as he said the very words, Raivel's hand fell on some sort of metal object above his head. It was solid, he realized, reaching up and feeling around it. It seemed almost like a trap door, surrounded by the walls and ceiling of the tunnel on either side.
"I've found something!" Raivel exclaimed. He felt around within the metal and, sure enough there was something that felt like a keyhole.
"Is that a trap door?" Bailey asked in astonishment.
"I think so. Give me the key," Raivel requested, and she obliged and lo and behold it was a perfect fit. Raivel opened the trap door and both he and Bailey snuck through, securing the door behind them. Their eyes met daybreak as they emerged, the fresh scent of new morning. Moreover, it was as though they had entered an entirely new part of the arena. The area into which they had emerged was luscious, green with trees and vegetation. Bailey's eyes grew wide as they took it all in.
"There's no way we're the only ones who discovered this," Bailey whispered, suspiciously.
"Let's just explore a little more and we'll find out," Raivel said. They went on, finding more and more trees, the grass tickling their feet and legs. There was even a pond beside one of the trees.
Up above they heard a slight humming, as though someone was completely at ease. Raivel smiled and looked up to see the boy from 10. The boy smiled back and waved.
"Hi," he called down. "I'm Mobie."
"I'm Raivel, this is Bailey," he called up.
"I guess you found this place with a key too?" Bailey ventured.
"I sure did," Mobie said, climbing down from the tree. "Say, I don't think it's a coincidence that all 3 of us found this place. Do you want to work together? There's more than enough to share."
"Sure," both Bailey and Raivel replied in unison. It couldn't hurt to have another set of eyes, Raivel supposed, and this boy seemed nice enough. That must have been why they'd been sent the key.
"I'm not alone anymore," Mobie beamed.
Mags Cohen – District 4 Mentor
She couldn't bear to meet Excelcia's gaze; she already knew what her fellow mentor would say. She had told her so, that Mags wouldn't be successful this year, that she was hopeless, essentially.
She should have been better, Mags thought, feeling the tears brush down her cheeks as she thought of all the things she could have said to Freida.
"That's enough of that," came the voice she had been dreading. Excelcia was looking down on her from the corner, just as Mags had known she would be.
"If she hadn't tried to help your tribute, she would still be alive!" Mags exploded. She couldn't help it. She knew it wasn't Ibrahima's fault, that somehow it was hers. Freida should have known better than to rush in, she should have known to run instead of remaining by Ibrahima's side. And now because of her loyalty, her blood was on the hands of a trained killer.
"You mustn't blame Freida, or yourself," a softer voice spoke from beside her. Esthelrir had left his place beside Aeden, putting his hand on her shoulder. "It is truly cruel that the young perish, but merciful when they can pass in a way that spares those they love. If Freida had to die, there was no better path for her. Ibrahima still has a chance. There's honor in what she did. That's all she would have wanted, all she would have asked in the end."
Mags sighed. If anyone knew that, it was Esthelrir and, deep down, she knew he was right. She knew that against the cruel power of the games, the only strength that could mitigate the inhumaneness was sometimes a simple act of human kindness, a shred of loyalty, sacrifice. Even if Excelcia didn't understand that, Freida had, and Mags did too. Maybe that made them both fools, but they were human fools, not monsters.
"For let the gods so speed me as I love
The name of honor more than I fear death" - Brutus