Throughout the day, she'd spoken with Tarr, Gasmi, and even Korbak individually to request their presence in the Matron's quarters that evening.
Korbak was the last to arrive, perhaps stalled by his reservations about attending.
“Your tardiness kept us waiting,” Gasmi informed him.
Despite her passive tone, her features were rigid with annoyance. The woman, much like Avaria, had a high tolerance for the antics of others. What Gasmi couldn't stand, however, was to be disrespected, and she viewed being made to wait as highly imprudent.
Avaria arose from her perch balanced atop the footboard, drawing the room's attention.
“I'm not gonna give some grand speech about how many different ways this entire thing is wrong. The battle hasn't even started yet, and we're already slaughtering each other like animals.” She glared pointedly at Korbak, who lacked the decency to look ashamed.
“Someone is playing us, turning us against each other like this, it has to be.” Her tone intensified as she spoke, hearing her own theory in such certain words for the first time.
The expressions that stared back at her were unconvinced.
“The Oversight has condemned us,” Gasmi stated blankly. “There is no standard to restrain them from arranging such a debacle. We are mere animals in their eyes.”
“Even if this is some elaborate scheme, it doesn't matter. This is the only chance we have.” Tarr's entire demeanor was downcast. He too seemed bothered by what was to take place, but like Avaria, he'd accepted it.
Korbak pushed off the wall where he'd leaned, taking a few unnecessarily aggressive steps toward her.
“What is your point?” He deadpanned.
“My point is that none of us can win the battle if we're all dead!” She squared up instinctively as she spoke, her self-control slipping a bit.
“The four of us in this room are the strongest competitors in this facility, and we're going to get picked off one by one.”
“You're proposing some sort of truce?” Gasmi's inquiry broke the building tension.
“No, I'm saying we should look out for each other to make sure we're all alive when the trial starts.”
“Hah.” A sound somewhere between a snort and a sarcastic chuckle broke from Korbak's lips.
“We all know you're the most formidable combatant here, as much as I
loathe
to admit it. You're just afraid one of us will put you down before the battle.” He stepped uncomfortably close, violating her personal space as was becoming his habit.
He thought himself quite intimidating.
“Korbak if I were afraid of you, I would've killed you in your sleep last night, we all know you never lock your door.” She dismissed his aggression easily, then broke eye contact with him, ending their showdown. “Well? What do you say?”
Tarr and Gasmi nodded; they saw the merit in her idea. Korbak, disagreeable until the end, threw his head back in disbelief.
“You two are going along with this.” He looked at each of them in turn with a gaze of bewilderment before hardening his face into an icy glare that he focused on Avaria.
“First, you question the only attempt at integration we'll ever get to make. Now you want us to be your bodyguards until you get a chance to kill us in battle.”
“Why does everything have to be an act of war to you.” Her indignant tone was just barely softened by the humorous tilt of her mouth. “It's just logical. I personally would like to be alive later today, but if staying alive isn't something you're interested in,” she shrugged, “That's okay with me.”
He took a deep breath, seeming to find a rare moment of composure.
“I don't want you dead.” He took a step toward her, his posture unusually relaxed. “But I'm not going to die here, and if that means I have to kill you, it's a price I'm more than willing to pay.”
Oddly, despite his harsh words, his tone wasn't terribly threatening, only a statement of fact.
He breezed past her in his exit, quickly disappearing from her field of view.
“We remain here until the battle starts.” Gasmi stood, taking charge. “You two go to sleep. I will have the first watch.”
Avaria settled herself onto the stale-smelling mattress, her restless brain refusing to settle. She'd banned her mind from envisioning herself actually killing another Chorlak during the battle, but Korbak's words forced her to consider the possibility. Did she have it in her to murder one of her fellow Marred in the name of declaring herself part of society? She wasn't entirely sure that she was willing to cross that line.
*
Two days later, Avaria entered the food hall with Gasmi and Tarr at her sides. She'd anticipated the increase in empty chairs, but she still stopped in her tracks when she saw that the Marred population had been cut in half; there couldn't have been many more than one hundred left.
The food portions were very generous now that fewer mouths were demanding a share, but the satisfaction of a full belly was tainted by the cursed knowledge of what had become of the owners of the missing mouths.
Everyone was anxious, pacing about the food room like caged animals, each awaiting a summoning to the courtyard where the battle would soon take place. Avaria drummed her fingers idly, lips pressing together and then relaxing on repeat with tense impatience. Part of her was excited, but the other part was ashamed of her anticipation. Today would be a day for her to finally display the skills she had trained so vigorously to acquire, but also the day that many of the few remaining Marred would meet their end.
Every back in the room straightened to attention as the Representative appeared in the doorway, his guards at his sides.
“All stand as Vice Overseer Zileca honors us with her presence.” As soon as the words left his lips, he pivoted on his ankle and stepped back forcefully, making way for his superior.
Chairs slid as the Marred rose obediently. Every eye was trained on the newly void entryway, the suspense plunging the room into a deathly silence. The seconds they waited stretched out almost endlessly, but at last, the woman herself came into view, her proud strides carrying her to the spot that Worg had just vacated.
She was much younger than her Representative, and surprisingly, her expression held far less malice. Everything about her was precise, not a single hair rebelled against the obsessively neat braid down the back of her head, and even her boots appeared to have been equally laced. Her entire persona was polished to perfection. She nodded to them in greeting, the gold earing that adorned her ear catching a glimmer from the lights.
“Ladies and gents,” she stated through a half-smile that could almost be interpreted as friendly, “Let us begin!”
She withdrew back into the hallway, heading in the direction of the courtyard. No one spoke as they formed a disorganized crowd behind her, the rising tension palpable in the air. Avaria was jostled about near the center of the herd, quickly losing sight of Gasmi and Tarr. It no longer mattered; they had helped each other as much as they intended to.
She painstakingly maneuvered herself towards the front where she saw Korbak, somehow still alive despite his ill temper enhancing his murder appeal. She didn't pay him much mind as they neared their destination, instead electing to devote her attention to corralling her wayward thoughts. The only one she could afford to focus on was the one that desired to win and be free.
The suns shone without a cloud in the sky, rudely flooding the space with inappropriately cheerful light. Her brows drew together to shade her squinting eyes as they struggled to adjust, barely able to distinguish the newly established platform in the center of the courtyard. Vice Overseer Zileca ascended the few stairs necessary to stand atop it, assuming the vantage point from which she would spectate the fights.
Avaria felt a stiff card being shoved into her hand, and its distributor was gone before she could identify him. The face-up side was blank, but upon flipping it over, she discovered a number printed in large type.
“Once everyone finds the sign with their number on it, we will begin!” Zileca announced, her loud voice entirely too theatrical for the circumstances.
Avaria glanced around, eyes now adapted, to see that there were over a hundred little signs stationed all about the courtyard with two numbers inscribed onto each one. She quickly matched her card's number to the correct one and went to stand in front of it, waiting to discover the identity of her first opponent. Her mouth went dry as she met the eyes of Tarr, who weaved through the crowd purposefully in her direction. Chorlak did not have friends, but if they did, she supposed she would call Tarr her closest one.
It didn't matter. She could see the determination in his face, promising his most vigorous efforts to defeat her. No lingering fear or uncertainty was tinging his portrayal of confidence, making her think for the first time that perhaps he had perfect control over his emotions all along. Maybe he simply never deemed it necessary to conceal them entirely.
Any signs of familiarity on his features were banished by the time he reached her. She barely had time to appreciate the misfortune of the pairing before Zileca sounded a horn, and chaos erupted. The shouts and grunts were deafening, but they faded quickly into the outer reaches of her consciousness as Tarr launched himself at her. She dodged him easily, shoving him off balance as he passed. She hesitated to take advantage of the superior position, which proved to be a mistake when he spun around, the sign grasped in both hands, and smashed it full force against the side of her head.
It was hard for her to determine if the crack ringing in her ears was from the sign breaking or her own skull, but either way, she slammed into the ground violently, stars erupting across her vision. She instinctively pushed off with her hands to spring back up, the hammering in her head briefly losing its predominance to dizziness in response. Her eyes remained unfocused, but she glared as confidently as possible at Tarr's blurry outline to conceal the disadvantage.
Her disorientation cleared quickly, but the throbbing deep inside her brain blossomed into full force. The stoic expression Tarr had previously worn seemed to have broken for a moment, as if he hadn't expected his attack to succeed or wasn't truly aware of what he was doing. Avaria touched the warmth running down the side of her head gently, barely coating her fingertips in the thick liquid. She brought them slowly into her line of sight, unsurprised to see her bright green blood now trickling down her hand. Tarr's stunned face quickly amended its display, and he held up the broken signpost like a bat, ready to strike again.
She could feel her face harden, resolve setting her features as she repressed her feelings of betrayal. Her newfound vigor drove her into Tarr too quickly for him to respond. Within seconds, she had wrenched the post from his grasp, forced him down onto one knee, and positioned her new weapon firmly against his collarbone with both hands, the threat to press it against his throat clear.
“Yield,” she hissed.
He elbowed her in the stomach, causing her to involuntarily tighten her grip and begin to choke him. Her heart pounded in her chest, panic rising at the possibility that Tarr wouldn't surrender- then there was a desperate tap against her forearm. Her entire being flooded with relief, and she surrendered her hold instantly. He fell forward, gasping air back into his lungs as she flopped back into a sprawled sitting position, also struggling to catch her breath from the adrenaline that coursed through her veins.
Her hand went slack as tension ebbed out of her body, allowing the post to fall to the ground with a soft thunk. She was first to get back to her feet, brows drawing together tightly in an attempt to manage the crushing pain in her skull. She dusted the debris off her arms before offering one to Tarr. He looked up at her uncertainly before accepting her outstretched hand, letting her pull him to his feet. They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment, arms still interlocked. Tarr nodded slightly, accepting defeat.
“If it couldn't be me, I hope it's you.”
He patted her on the shoulder with his free hand in a friendly gesture, a rare smile touching the corners of his lips, then walked past her without another word. She didn't move but turned her head to the side and watched him go until he left her field of vision. Most of the fights around her were finished; some of the defeated had withdrawn to spectate from the edges of the enclosure while some lay motionless at the victors' feet. As the last few battles drew to a close, Enforcers came with their carts to take away the dead.
Avaria blinked madly as her blood began to run into her eyes until finally, she had to wipe some of it away with her hand. Her eyes now fully open again, she saw a woman in front of her, her white garments indicating that she was a medic. Her expression was blank, she didn't seem thrilled to be tending to the Marred, but she held out a rag that Avaria took gratefully. The pressure she applied against her wound added another layer of depth to the ache in her head, but she endured in an attempt to control the blood flow.
The signs were carried out and new ones were brought in, displaying the numbers paired for the next round. She continued to rub at her injury until the signs were in position, then released her hold on the rag, permitting it to plop onto the ground. She spotted her number quickly. Her opponent already stood in front of it. Avaria knew how savagely the woman tended to fight in compensation for her lack of muscle, and she suppressed a groan at the thought of fighting her while in a weak, nauseous state.
Already, it looked like this day was going to reach for eternity.
MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR <3
Things are heating up! You know I gotta add a little bit of spice :)
Do you think Avaria will make it to the final round?
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