The Black Forest Read online

  “He taught you?” Kai carves the air with such force it makes a whistling sound just before it clashes with mine. He isn’t taking it easy on me in the least. Good, I think, grateful that he keeps my hands busy and my focus sharp. It distracts from the ceaseless thoughts of escape.

  “He sure did.” I pull away and dodge left then strike Kai in the back.

  “Ah!” Kai cries out. The blow stings, I’m sure. I want to apologize. But I know this is what we do. And I know my blow will be answered. “Nice.” Kai sidesteps and we circle each other. “I guess your father saw something in you.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. He trained Kohl, Pike and, Ara too.” I take a false step. Kai twitches and backs away slightly.

  “You’re the Champion,” Kai jokes. “So he must’ve seen something.”

  “Ha, like this is the life he wanted for me,” I reply sarcastically. “I’m the champion of nothing.”

  Kai attacks unexpectedly. The clacking of our blades echoes through the grassy space as we duel. Twice I’m hit. Once in the arm, a wound that bleeds, and once just below my ear, a bruise that’ll appear later, I’m sure. “You’re going to be a pretty beat-up looking champion if we don’t take this down to a regular sparring session soon.” Hearty laughter rolls from Kai. I can’t help but smile at the sound.

  “Fair enough. Let’s lighten this,” I agree. Our blades meet with less frequency and less force. My mind returns to escape. “Have you spoken of what we discussed?”

  “I have.” His eyes meet mine for a split second. And when they do, I see that he holds information that will disappoint me.

  “And?” I almost don’t want to hear the answer, but brace myself for it anyway.

  “They seem hesitant.”

  “Hesitant? Hesitant as in they won’t think about going or hesitant as in they can be persuaded?” We circle each other again before we resume sparring.

  “I don’t know. Some seem open to it. Others…” He lets his sentence go unfinished.

  Frustrated, I hit harder than I should.

  “Lucas,” is all Kai says.

  I compose myself then ask, “Why do they want to live this way?” Xan and Micah’s voices can be heard. They are on the opposite end of the courtyard. They spar but are interacting loudly, as if they’re enjoying themselves. Kai acknowledges it by taking a quick glance their way.

  “You have to understand, this is all they’ve known. This place. What they do. How they’re treated. It’s all they know.”

  I barely consider what he’s said. Reluctance to escape here for any reason is alien to me. “So they’d rather live the rest of their lives being beaten, starved, attacked, and whatever other sick tortures the Urthmen can dream up before being killed finally in the arena?” I shake my head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I know it doesn’t. They don’t get it. They don’t see,” Kai says.

  “It’s like they’re drowning in a puddle. Choosing to. All they need to do is stand up.” I try to articulate what I’m feeling and wonder whether my words are making sense or whether I’ve lost Kai completely.

  “Some need to be told to stand. Others need you to grab them by the collar and lift them.” Kai looks me dead in the eyes. “You need to talk to them. They need to hear it from you.” I squint into the midday sun and see Xan and Micah. They’ll be the hardest to convince. They’re teetering on the edge of humanity. They’re on the verge of being just like Cas.

  “You’re right,” I say. “I know where I need to start.” I tip my head toward Xan and Micah.

  “Hardest to convince first. That’s exactly what I’d do. That’s what I was going to suggest.” Kai levels a gaze their way. “You’re just about the only person they’ll listen to.”

  “They have to. Or we won’t get out of here.” My last sentence is mumbled. I make my way over to the far side of the field. Toward Xan and Micah. When I reach them, I say, “My turn.”

  Both men stop and look at me. “Which one of us?” Xan asks.

  “Both of you,” I reply with a thin smile. Micah shrugs and Xan nods. I don’t waste a second. I strike. Xan shields his skull and blocks a blow to his head. Caught off guard at first, he immediately regains his footing and retaliates. He swings his wooden sword, and so does Micah. I twist and step, dodge and block each blow. I catch sight of the feral grin that carves Micah’s face. He loves to spar. To battle. It’s become second nature. Same goes for Xan. Watching them as they are, I decide not to mince words or delay asking the question that burns in my mind. “Why are you two not with us?”

  Huffs and clacks sound, and for a moment I wonder if they heard me. “With who?” Xan asks.

  He’s playing with me. Playing dumb.

  “Kai. He spoke to you, didn’t he?” I ask as my blade grazes Micah’s shoulder.

  “He did,” Xan finally answers.

  “And?”

  “And what?” Micah replies.

  “Are we really going to do this? Don’t waste precious time. Tell me why you don’t want to leave this place?” I demand.

  The sparring intensifies. The wooden blades bang and clatter. Several moments pass before Xan answers, “Because it’s certain death.”

  “So is this,” I snap. “This here, the arena, is certain death.”

  “But at least we die with honor,” Micah fires back.

  “Honor? You think there’s honor in dying on the sand in there? In front of a crowd of Urthmen who won’t remember your names as soon as they leave their seats?” The thought sickens me. Their mentality sickens me.

  “Fighting to the death has honor,” Xan says.

  “Fighting for freedom has honor.” Anger drives me forward, swinging my blade with precision and fury. Both men retreat several steps.

  We spar silently for a period, then Micah says, “We could live a few more years here, if we train and prepare.”

  “If you face me, you won’t live to see the end of the week.” I unleash every ounce of rage, knocking them both back even farther.

  Micah bolts right, switching his position and placing himself behind me. He and Xan attack simultaneously. I wonder why they didn’t use this strategy straightaway. I stop wondering, though, when I’m struck in the back of the head and then in the stomach with their weapons. All I can think of is battling back. That, and the fact that the wind has been knocked from me and that my head feels as if it has a heartbeat.

  Just as I gain ground and spin, cracking Micah in his ribs, an Urthman guard screams, “Enough!”

  Both Micah and Xan freeze in place, lowering their wooden swords first.

  A pair of uniform-clad Urthmen approach, stopping when they’re so close I can smell their rancid breath as they breathe.

  “Who said you could fight him two-on-one?” one guard shouts at Xan and Micah.

  “I asked them to,” I answer.

  Neither of the Urthmen guards look at me when I am addressed. The one who’s done all of the yelling barks, “You have no say.” A slash of a mouth contorts. “Against the wall!” he orders. Micah and Xan drop their weapons to the ground and begin walking toward a concrete wall at the edge of the training area. I follow them but am immediately stopped. “Not you!” the guard rasps. I’m left standing, watching as Micah and Xan walk to the wall and place their palms to it, backs to the Urthmen guards. In the brilliant light of day, raised welts, some old and a few fresh, are visible and trail from the napes of their necks to the smalls of their backs. Scars from previous beatings. Scars I bear myself. The men stand with their legs shoulder-width apart, bracing themselves for what’s to come. As if taking Micah and Xan’s actions as cues, the guards retrieve whips from belts at their hips and begin lashing both men. Angry red marks appear on their backs. The whip snaps against their skin again and again. I look on in horror as both Micah and Xan flinch, but neither man cries out in pain. They deny the Urthmen the satisfaction of seeing their pain as I have in the past. My anger for the Urthmen multiplies. And so does my respect for the men. Thou
gh my respect for them was minimal, a wisp really, witnessing how they endure their beatings changes that slightly. It also emphasizes my need to get them, and everyone else, out of here. No one should have to live this way. I will die before allowing Pike and Ara to live this way.

  The beating continues for what feels like eternity. When finally it ends, one of the guards yells, “Now train! One-on-one only!”

  Neither Xan nor Micah responds verbally. They simply bow their heads deferentially. When they pass me, I take care to look each of them in the eyes. “This is how you want to live? How you want to spend your last few years or weeks? Maybe days?” They pause, studying my face. Blood trails to the waistband of their bottoms. Their limbs tremble. “I’d rather die trying to be free than live another day like this,” I press further. Understanding flickers in the depth of their gazes. I’m sure of it. But when they walk away, wordlessly, I begin to question it. I look away from them in the opposite direction and see Reyna. Flaxen hair spills over her shoulders to her waist and resembles liquid sunshine. I think I see her looking back at me. I raise my sword to her. When she raises hers back to me then gestures with her free hand for me to join her, a heat that’s unrelated to the air temperature creeps up my neck. I take a step forward, stumbling over my own two feet and silently hope she wasn’t watching. A quick glance reveals she’s resumed sparring with her partner, a fact I’m grateful for. I carefully place one foot in front of the other to avoid another mishap and close the distance separating us.

  Standing before Reyna, my breath catches in my chest. I realize I must look like an idiot just standing as I am shifting my weight from one foot to the other and not saying a word. But words escape me. Her eyes, ice blue indoors, are translucent, a blue so cool and clear they appear otherworldly.

  “I’m going to spar with him now, Shreya.” Reyna dismisses her practice partner curtly. The sound of her voice returns me to my reason for coming over to her. “Hey, Lucas,” she says. Her voice is as clear as her eyes. Clear and strong. The sound of it sends a small, inexplicable shiver through my stomach.

  “H-hi Reyna,” I trip over my words. Why is this happening? I wonder. I’m making a fool of myself, which is becoming a habit in front of her when we’re alone like this. Not captured. Not fighting in the arena. And not killing Urthmen guards. In those situations, I don’t have the option to be an idiot. I’m forced to act. But here, as we are now, my insides shake and I’m tongue-tied. When she assumes a fighting stance and starts sparring with me, I’m thankful to channel my nervous energy. Our weapons touch lightly. We concentrate on form. I watch as she executes each swipe with purpose, with precision. I watch the way her muscles bunch and flex, the sharp definition of her arms, the powerful sculpting of her legs. She looks every bit the warrior everyone sees. Only her face betrays her. There’s softness to it. Innocence. I see it now. I see it clearly.

  “Are we going to try?” she asks me and catches me staring at her goofily.

  “What?” I ask. My cheeks blaze.

  She arcs an eyebrow at me before looking left then right. “To escape.” I only see her mouth the words. The sound of them is carried away on the wind. Treetops rustle as a warm breeze swishes through them. Reyna’s hair brushes off her shoulders and her whole face is visible. I’m speechless for far too long. For too many seconds, I focus on her high cheekbones, ethereal blue eyes and full, pink lips.

  “I’m working on a plan,” I finally say.

  She tilts her head to one side. Although a line appears between her eyebrows and her expression is hard, it still retains a quality that’s inviting. “How soon?” she asks.

  Our sparring picks up just a bit and we move around each other, lunging and retreating in such a synchronized fashion it feels more like dancing than fighting. “As soon as I can get everyone on board and feel confident it has a chance to work.”

  “Easy enough, right,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

  “Oh yeah. It’s gonna be a breeze getting everyone motivated to risk their lives to get out of here. Especially Xan and Micah.”

  Reyna laughs. The sound is smooth and comforting. In fact, I don’t believe I’ve heard a sound as mellifluous as her laughter. I’m so distracted by it, I neglect to block a swipe halfheartedly intended for my head. Her sword whacks me in the forehead. “Ouch!” I say and stumble back a step.

  “Lucas, what’re you doing? You didn’t even try to block that,” Reyna says and looks at me quizzically.

  “I got distracted,” I blurt out without thinking.

  “Distracted? By what?”

  You! I want to say. But instead I mumble something about her and the sun.

  She looks at me as though she’s heard my thoughts. At best, she looks as though she doesn’t believe my lame response that includes the sun. I wouldn’t believe me either if I were her. Her cheeks turn a deep shade of pink and I’m sure mine match hers. “Well, you better try not to get distracted by the sun, or me,” she adds the “or me” very quietly. Her cheeks flush to an even deeper pink.

  I smile broadly and she smiles back at me. I’m about to attempt to say that it’s almost impossible to not be distracted by her when I feel eyes on me, ones that do not belong to her. I immediately look away and scan the area. When I do, I find Prince Cadogan watches Reyna and me. Short, plump arms folded across his chest and with his head tilted slightly, he wears a strange smile on his face, as if he hears what she and I have been saying to each other. Of course that’s not possible. We’re outside and a considerable distance from him. Still he looks at us, observing with a smug smirk. Reyna catches sight of him. She frowns. “What’s going on with him? Why is he watching us with that look on his face?” She doesn’t allow her eyes to linger long and continues to spar with me while she speaks.

  “I don’t know,” I reply and return my focus to her and what we’re doing. “But it creeps me out. He looks…like he knows something. Like he’s a step ahead or a plan is in place to be a step ahead of us.”

  “Yeah, I got that from him, too.” She quickly glances at him. “He has that I-know-something-that’ll-destroy-you look,” she sings the middle collections of words in a voice so lovely chills race across my skin. “And he’s thrilled about it. Nasty thing that he is.”

  We continue to train. The clack of our wooden swords is the only sound we make. Reyna appears deep in thought, and I am consumed by Prince Cadogan’s expression. Time and experience has conditioned me to be wary. Sweat beads my brow and trails between my shoulder blades. Hunger gnaws and a headache throbs in time with my pulse. Yet I’m not relieved in the least when Urthmen guards end our session. Lined up and shackled, we’re led back inside, down a long corridor that grows danker and darker with every step we take. A small group of Urthmen halt us. They speak to those leading us briefly. I am singled out, disconnected and pulled aside while the others are ushered forward without me. “What’s going on?” I ask. No one answers. They simply stand in formation, legs shoulder-width apart, their posture ramrod straight and their hands clasped behind their backs. I don’t bother asking any further questions. And I’m not surprised when Prince Cadogan lumbers down the hall with his personal team of Urthmen. Some flank him. The rest follow him. The sight of him would be laughable were it not for the immense power he wields, the gut-wrenching fact that he holds the fate of my siblings in his pudgy little hands. He stops in front of me, placing his face directly in my line of vision. That same haughty smile spreads across his lips. Lips altered so that they resemble a pair of overstuffed tubes stuck to the lower half of his head. His expression unnerves me even more up close than it did in the courtyard. “You remember when I told you you’d need to prove yourself to me, right, Lucas,” he begins with extra sibilance on my name.

  I’d love to mimic him and draw out the “s” when I reply, “Yes.” But something in the way he speaks and in the way he’s behaving causes my heart to sink like a stone.

  “Good. That’s very good news, Lucas.” He continues to hiss.
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  “Good,” I reply, not knowing what else to say.

  “Your brother and sister will remain safe.” One arm is folded across his chest while the other elbow rests against it and he taps a finger to his chin.

  At mention of Ara and Pike, my ears prick up. I turn my head to one side and lean toward him ever so slightly.

  “For now,” Prince Cadogan adds.

  “What?” My heart, which plummeted seconds ago to my stomach, is now in the vicinity of my feet.

  “To keep them as such, you’re going to have to earn it. Earn their safety.”

  “I swore I would. And I meant it.” My eyes lock on his. Sadistic glee dances in their depths.

  “Yes, yes you did,” he continues in his ridiculous speech pattern. “And this weekend you will make good on those words.”

  “I will?” I ask and feel the world around me start to tilt in anticipation.

  “Yes, you will. You’ll prove yourself loyal in the arena this weekend.”

  Bloodshed. Death. That’s what the arena represents. He wants me to take a life. Probably more than one. “Prove myself,” I restate his words. “Who will I prove myself with? Who will I face?”

  Prince Cadogan pauses several beats. He tips his head to the side, staring at me with dark, lifeless eyes. That arrogant smirk widens. “You will face your little girlfriend.” He giggles. The sound is metal scraping metal. “And you’ll take her life.”

  Blood drains from my face, from my body, and feels as if it’s pooled at my feet. Reyna. He wants me to face off with her. To kill her. I can’t. I won’t. She’s become a part of me. I care for her. Not as I do for my sister. But differently. Deeply. I will not take her life. My brow lowers. My eyes narrow. Throat dry and lips tight, I reply defiantly, “I won’t.”

  “Oh you will,” he replies viperously. “Or I will throw your sister and brother in the arena with Micah and Xan. Then your little blonde girlfriend. They will not refuse me. They’ll be more than happy to do as I say for a far lesser reward.” He glowers at me. “You will because you need to prove your loyalty, that you’re worthy of the title Champion,” he shouts inches from my face. I’m showered with spittle.