Морган Райс
Slave, Warrior, Queen
Ceres cringed. With reflexes like that, Stefanus wouldn’t last long.
Hacking away at Stefanus’s shield again and again, the foreigner roared while Stefanus retreated. Stefanus, desperate, finally flung the edge of his shield into his opponent’s face, sending a spray of blood across the air as his foe fell.
Ceres thought that was a rather nice move. Maybe Stefanus had improved in his technique since she saw him in training last.
“Stefanus! Stefanus! Stefanus!” the spectators chanted.
Stefanus stood at the feet of the injured warrior, but just as he was about to stab him with the trident, the foreigner lifted his legs and kicked Stefanus so he tumbled backwards, landing on his behind. Both hopped to their feet as quick as cats and faced each other again.
Their eyes locked and they began circling one another, the danger in the air palpable, Ceres thought.
The foreigner snarled and lifted his sword high into the air as he ran toward Stefanus. Stefanus quickly veered to the side and jabbed him in the thigh. In return, the foreigner swung his sword around and sliced Stefanus’s arm.
Both warriors grunted in pain, but it was as if the wounds drove their fury instead of slowing them. The foreigner peeled off his helmet and flung it to the ground. His black bearded chin was bloodied, his right eye swollen, but his expression made Ceres think he was done playing games with Stefanus and was going in for the kill. How quickly would he be able to slay him?
Stefanus charged toward the foreigner, and Ceres gasped as Stefanus’s trident collided with his opponent’s sword. Eyeball to eyeball the warriors strained against each other, grunting, panting, shoving, the blood vessels in their foreheads protruding and the muscles bulging beneath their sweaty skin.
The foreigner ducked and wringed out of the deadlock, and unexpected to Ceres, he spun around like a tornado, sliced through the air with his sword, and decapitated Stefanus.
After a few breaths, the foreigner triumphantly lifted his arm into the air.
For a second, the crowd went completely silent. Even Ceres. She glanced up at the teenage boy who was Stefanus’s owner. His mouth was wide open, his eyebrows knit together in fury.
The teenage boy hurled his silver goblet into the arena and stormed out of the booth. Death is the great equalizer, Ceres thought as she suppressed a smile.
“August!” a man in the crowd yelled. “August! August!”
One after another the spectators joined in, until the entire stadium chanted the victor’s name. The foreigner bowed to King Claudius, and then three other warriors came running from the iron gates, replacing him.
One fight after another ensued as the day grew long, and Ceres watched with eyes peeled. She couldn’t quite make up her mind whether she hated the Killings or loved it. On one hand, she enjoyed watching the strategy, the skill, and the bravery of the contenders; yet on the other, she despised how the warriors were nothing but pawns to the wealthy.
As the last fight of the first round arrived, Brennius and another warrior fought right next to where Ceres, Rexus, and her brothers were sitting. Closer and closer they came, their swords clanking, sparks flying. It was thrilling.
Ceres watched as Sartes leaned over the railing, his eyes glued to the combatants.
“Lean back!” she yelled at him.
But before he could respond, all of a sudden, an omnicat jumped out from a hatch in the ground on the other side of the stadium. The huge beast licked its fangs and its claws dug into the red dirt as it made its way toward the warriors. The combatlords hadn’t yet seen the animal, and the stadium held its breath.
“Brennius is dead,” Nesos mumbled.
“Sartes!” Ceres yelled again. “I said get back – ”
She didn’t have a chance to finish her words. Just then, the rock beneath Sartes’s hands loosened, and before anyone could react, he tumbled down, over the rail, and fell all the way into the pit, landing with a thud.
“Sartes!” Ceres yelled in horror as she shot to her feet.
Ceres looked down to see Sartes, ten feet below, sit up and lean his back against the wall. His lower lip quivered, but there were no tears. No words. Holding his arm, he looked upward, his face twisted in agony.
Seeing him down there was more than Ceres could bear. Without thinking, she drew Nesos’s sword and leapt over the rail, hopping into the pit, landing right in front of her younger brother.
“Ceres!” Rexus yelled.
She glanced back up and saw guards hauling Rexus and Nesos away before they could follow.
Ceres stood in the pit, overcome with a surreal feeling to be down here with the fighters in the arena. She wanted to get Sartes out of there, but there was no time. So she stepped in front of him, determined to protect him as the omnicat roared at her. It hunched low, its wicked yellow eyes fixed on Ceres, and she could sense the danger.
She whipped Nesos’s sword up with both hands and clenched it tight.
“Run, girl!” Brennius yelled.
But it was too late. Charging toward her, the omnicat was now only a few feet away. She stepped closer to Sartes and just before the animal attacked, Brennius came in from the side and sliced the beast’s ear off.
The omnicat rose onto its hind legs and roared, clawing a chunk out of the wall behind Ceres as purple blood stained its fur.
The crowd roared.
The second combatlord approached, but before he could cause the beast any harm, the omnicat lifted its paw and slit the man’s throat with its claws. Clamping his hands around his neck, the warrior collapsed to the ground, blood seeping through his fingers.
Hungry for blood, the crowd cheered.
Snarling, the omnicat hit Ceres so hard she went flying into the air, crashing to the ground. On impact, the sword went tumbling from her hand and landed several feet away.
Ceres lay there, her lungs refusing to open up. Dying for air, her head spinning, she tried to crawl up onto hands and knees, but quickly tumbled back down.
Lying breathless with her face pressed against the coarse sand, she saw the omnicat heading toward Sartes. Seeing her brother in such a defenseless state, she felt her insides ignite with fire. She forced herself to take a breath and she discerned with complete clarity what she needed to do to save her brother.
Energy rushed through her like a flood, giving her instant power, and she rose to her feet, picked up the sword, and dashed toward the beast so fast she was convinced she was flying.
The beast was ten feet away from her now. Eight. Six. Four.
Ceres gritted her teeth and flung herself onto the beast’s back, digging insistent fingers into its bristly fur, desperate to distract it from her brother.
The omnicat stood up on hind legs and shook its upper body, jostling Ceres back and forth. But her iron grip and her resolve were stronger than the animal’s attempts to throw her off.
As the creature lowered back onto all fours again, Ceres seized the opportunity. She raised her sword high into the air and stabbed the beast in the neck.
The animal screeched and rose onto hind legs, as the crowd roared.
Reaching a paw around to Ceres, the creature pierced her back with its claws, and Ceres screamed from the pain, the claws feeling like daggers through her flesh. The omnicat grabbed her and hurled her into the wall, and she landed several feet away from Sartes.
“Ceres!” Sartes yelled.
Ears ringing, Ceres struggled to sit up, the back of her head throbbing, warm liquid running down her neck. There was no time to assess how serious the wound was. The omnicat was charging her again.
As the beast bore down, Ceres was out of options. Not even thinking, she instinctively raised a palm and held it out before her. It was the last thing she thought she’d ever see.
Just as the omnicat pounced, Ceres felt as if a ball of fire ignited in her chest, and suddenly she felt a ball of energy shoot out of her hand.
Mid-air, the beast suddenly went limp.
It crashed to the ground, skidding to a halt on top of her legs. Half-expecting the animal to come to life again and finish her off, Ceres held her breath as she watched it lie there.
But the creature didn’t move.
Baffled, Ceres glanced at her palm. Not having seen what transpired, the crowd probably thought the beast died because she had stabbed him with her sword earlier. But she knew better. Some mysterious force had left her hand and had killed the beast in an instant. What force was it? Never had anything like this occurred before, and she didn’t quite know what to make of it.
Who was she to have this power?
Afraid, she let her hand fall to the earth.
She lifted hesitant eyes, and saw the stadium had gone silent.
And she could not help but wonder. Had they seen it, too?
CHAPTER TWO
For a second that seemed to stretch on and on, Ceres felt every eye upon her as she sat there, numb with pain and disbelief. More so than the repercussions to come, she feared the supernatural power that lurked within her, that had killed the omnicat. More than all the people surrounding her, she feared to face herself – a self she no longer knew.
Suddenly, the crowd, stunned into silence, roared. It took her a moment to realize that they were cheering for her.
A voice cut through the roars.
“Ceres!” Sartes yelled, beside her. “Are you hurt?”
She turned toward her brother, still lying there on the Stade floor, too, and opened her mouth. But not a single word came out. Her breath was spent and she felt dazed. Had he seen what had really happened? She didn’t know about the others, but at this distance, it would be a near miracle if he hadn’t.
Ceres heard footsteps, and suddenly two strong hands pulled her to a standing position.
“Get out now!” Brennius growled, shoving her toward the open gate to her left.
The puncture wounds in her back ached, but she forced herself back to reality and grabbed Sartes and pulled him to a standing position. Together, they darted toward the exit, trying to escape the cheers of the crowd.
They soon arrived in the dark, stuffy, tunnel, and as they did, Ceres saw dozens of combatlords inside, awaiting their turn for a few moments of glory in the arena. Some sat on benches in deep meditation, others were tensing their muscles, pumping their arms as they paced back and forth, and yet others were preparing their weapons for the imminent bloodbath. All of them, having just witnessed the fight, looked up and stared at her, curiosity in their eyes.
Ceres hurried down underground corridors lined with torches giving the gray bricks a warm glow, passing all manner of weapons leaning against the walls. She tried to ignore the pain in her back, but it was difficult to do so when with every step, the rough material in her dress chafed against the open wounds. The omnicat’s claws had felt like daggers going in, but it almost seemed worse now as each gash throbbed.
“Your back is bleeding,” Sartes said, a tremor in his voice.
“I’ll be fine. We need to find Nesos and Rexus. How is your arm?”
“It hurts.”
When they reached the exit, the door swung open, and two Empire soldiers stood there.
“Sartes!”
Before she could react a soldier seized her brother, and another grabbed her. It was no use resisting. The other soldier swung her over his shoulder as if she were a sack of grain, and carried her away. Fearing she had been arrested, she beat him on the back, to no avail.
Once they were just outside the Stade, he threw her onto the ground, and Sartes landed beside her. A few onlookers formed a half-circle around her, gawking, as if hungry for her blood to be spilt.
“Enter the Stade again,” the soldier snarled, “and you will be hanged.”
The soldiers, to her surprise, turned without another word and vanished back into the crowd.
“Ceres!” a deep voice yelled over the hum of the crowd.
Ceres looked up with relief to see Nesos and Rexus heading toward them. When Rexus threw his arms around her, she gasped. He pulled back, his eyes filled with concern.
“I’ll be okay,” she said.
As the throngs poured out of the Stade, Ceres and the others blended in and hurried off back into the streets, not wanting any more encounters. Walking toward Fountain Square, Ceres replayed in her mind all that had happened, still reeling. She noticed her brothers’ sideways glances, and wondered what they were thinking. Had they witnessed her powers? Likely not. The omnicat had been too close. Yet at the same time they glanced at her with a new sense of respect. She wanted more than anything to tell them what had happened. Yet she knew she could not. She was not even sure herself.
There was so much unsaid between them, yet now, amidst this thick crowd, was not the time to say it. They needed to get home, and safe, first.
The streets became far less crowded the further away they traveled from the Stade. Walking next to her, Rexus took one of her hands and interlaced fingers with her.
“I’m proud of you,” he said. “You saved your brother’s life. I’m not sure how many sisters would do that.”
He smiled, his eyes filled with compassion.
“Those wounds look deep,” he remarked, glancing at her back.
“I’ll be fine,” she muttered.
It was a lie. She wasn’t at all certain she would be fine, or that she could even make it back home. She felt quite dizzy from the blood loss, and it didn’t help that her stomach rumbled, or that the sun was harassing her back, causing her to sweat bullets.
Finally, they reached Fountain Square. As soon as they walked by the booths, a merchant trailed after them, offering a large basket of food for half price.
Sartes grinned from ear to ear – which she thought was rather strange – and then he held up a copper coin with his healthy arm.
“I think I owe you some food,” he said.
Ceres gasped in shock. “Where did you get that?”
“That rich girl in the golden carriage tossed out two coins, not one, but everyone was so focused on the fight between the men that they didn’t even notice,” Sartes replied, his smile still very much intact.
Ceres grew angry and prepared to confiscate the coin from Sartes and throw it. That was blood money, after all. They didn’t need anything from rich people.
As she reached to grab it, suddenly, an old woman appeared and blocked her path.
“You!” she said, pointing at Ceres, her voice so loud Ceres felt as if it vibrated straight through her.
The woman’s complexion was smooth, yet seemingly transparent, and her perfectly arched lips were tinted green. Acorns and mosses adorned her long, thick, black hair, and her brown eyes matched her long brown dress. She was beautiful to behold, Ceres thought, so much so that she became mesmerized for a moment.
Ceres blinked back, stunned, certain she had never met this woman before.
“How do you know my name?”
Her eyes locked with the woman’s as she took a few steps toward her, and Ceres noticed the woman smelled heavily of myrrh.
“Vein of the stars,” she said, her voice eerie.
When the woman lifted her arm in a graceful gesture, Ceres saw that a triquetra was branded on the inside of her wrist. A witch. Based on the scent of the gods, perhaps a fortune-telling one.
The woman took Ceres’s rose gold hair in her hand and smelled it.
“You are no stranger to the sword,” she said. “You are no stranger to the throne. Your destiny is very great, indeed. Mighty will the change be.”
The woman suddenly turned and hurried away, disappearing behind her booth, and Ceres stood there, numb. She felt the woman’s words penetrate her very soul. She felt that they had been more than an observation; they were a prophecy. Mighty. Change. Throne. Destiny. These were words she had never associated with herself before.
Could they be true? Or were they just the words of a madwoman?
Ceres looked over and saw Sartes holding a basket of food, his mouth already stuffed with more than enough bread. He held it out for her. She saw the baked good, fruits, and vegetables, and it was almost enough to break her resolve. Normally, she would have devoured it.
Yet now, for some reason, she had lost her appetite.
There was a future before her.
A destiny.
*
The walk home had taken almost an hour longer than usual, and they had all remained silent the entire way, each lost in their own thoughts. Ceres could only wonder what the people she loved most in the world thought of her. She hardly knew what to think of herself.
She looked up and saw her humble home, and she was surprised she had made it all the way, given how her head and back ached.
The others had parted with her some time ago, to run an errand for her father, and Ceres stepped alone across the creaky threshold, bracing herself, hoping she did not run into her mother.
She entered a bath of heat. She made her way over to the small vial of cleaning alcohol her mother had stored under her bed and uncorked it, careful not to use so much that it went noticed. Bracing herself for the sting, she pried her shirt and poured it down her back.
Ceres cried out from the pain, clenching her fist and leaning her head against the wall, feeling a thousand stings from the omnicat’s claws. It felt as if this wound would never heal.
The door slammed open and Ceres flinched. She was relieved to see it was only Sartes.
“Father needs to see you, Ceres,” he said.
Ceres noticed his eyes were slightly red.
“How’s your arm?” she asked, assuming he was crying from the pain of his injured arm.
“It’s not broken. Just sprained.” He stepped closer and his face turned serious. “Thank you for saving me today.”
She offered him a smile. “How could I be anywhere else?” she said.
He smiled.
“Go see Father now,” he said. “I’ll burn your dress and the cloth.”
She didn’t know how she’d be able to explain to her mother how her dress had suddenly vanished, but the hand-me-down definitely needed to be burned. If her mother found it in its current condition – bloodied and riddled with holes – there’d be no saying how severe her punishment would be.
Ceres left and walked down the downtrodden grass path toward the shed behind the house. There was one tree left on their humble lot – the others had been chopped into firewood and burned in the hearth to heat the house during cold winter nights – and its branches hovered over the house like a protecting energy. Every time Ceres saw it, it reminded her of her grandmother, who passed away the year before last. Her grandmother had been the one who had planted the tree when she was a child. It was her temple, in a way. And her father’s too. When life was too much to handle, they would lie underneath the stars and open their hearts to Nana as if she were still alive.
Ceres entered the shed and greeted her father with a smile. To her surprise, she noticed that most of his tools had been cleared from the worktable, and that no swords waited by the hearth to be forged. She couldn’t ever remember seeing the floor swept this clean, or the walls and ceiling so lacking in tools.
Her father’s blue eyes lit up, the way they always did when he saw her.
“Ceres,” he said, rising.
This past year, his dark hair had turned much grayer, his short beard, too, and the bags under his loving eyes had doubled in size. In the past, he had been large in stature and almost as muscular as Nesos; yet recently, Ceres noticed, he had lost weight and his formerly perfect posture was sagging.
He joined her at the door and placed a calloused hand to the small of her back.
“Walk with me.”
Her chest tightened a little. When he wanted to talk and walk, that meant he was about to share something significant.
Side by side, they meandered to the back of the shed and into the small field. Dark clouds loomed in the near distance, sending in gusts of warm, temperamental wind. She hoped they would produce the rain needed to recover from this seemingly never-ending drought, yet as before, they probably held just empty promises of showers.
The earth crunched beneath her feet as she walked, the soil dry, the plants yellow, brown, and dead. This patch of land behind their subdivision was King Claudius’s, yet it hadn’t been sowed for years.
They crested a hill and stopped, looking across the field. Her father remained silent, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked up into the sky. It was unlike him, and her dread deepened.
Then he spoke, seeming to select his words with care.
“Sometimes we don’t have the luxury of choosing our paths,” he said. “We must sacrifice all that we want for our loved ones. Even ourselves, if needed.”
He sighed, and in the long silence, interrupted only by the wind, Ceres’s heart pounded, wondering where he was going with this.
“What I wouldn’t give to hold onto your childhood forever,” he added, peering into the heavens, his face twisted in pain before it relaxed again.
“What’s wrong?” Ceres asked, placing a hand on his arm.
“I must leave for a while,” he said.
She felt as if she couldn’t take a breath.
“Leave?”
He turned and looked her in the eyes.
“As you know, the winter and spring were particularly hard this year. The past few years of drought have been difficult. We haven’t made enough money to get through the next winter, and if I don’t go, our family will starve to death. I have been commissioned by another king to be his head bladesmith. It will be good money.”
“You will take me with you, right?” Ceres said, a frantic tone in her voice.
He shook his head grimly.
“You must stay here and help your mother and brothers.”
The thought sent a wave of horror through her.
“You can’t leave me here with Mother,” she said. “You wouldn’t.”
“I have spoken to her, and she will take care of you. She will be kind.”
Ceres stomped her foot in the earth, the dust rising.
“No!”
Tears burst from her eyes and tumbled down her cheeks.
He took a small step toward her.
“Listen to me very carefully, Ceres. The palace still needs swords delivered from time to time. I have put in a good word for you, and if you make swords the way I have taught you, you could make a little money of your own.”
Making her own money might possibly allow her more freedom. She had found her small, dainty hands had come in handy when carving intricate designs and inscriptions on the blades and hilts. Her father’s hands were broad, his fingers thick and stubby, and few others had the skill she had.
Even so, she shook her head.
“I don’t want to be a smith,” she said.
“It runs in your blood, Ceres. And you have a gift for it.”
She shook her head, adamant.
“I want to wield weapons,” she said, “not make them.”
As soon as the words had left her mouth, she regretted speaking them.
Her father furrowed his brow.
“You wish to be a warrior? A combatlord?”
He shook his head.
“One day it may be allowed for women to fight,” she said. “You know I have practiced.”
His eyebrows crinkled in worry.
“No,” he commanded, firmly. “That is not your path.”
Her heart sank. She felt as if her hopes and dreams of becoming a warrior were dissipating with his words. She knew he wasn’t trying to be cruel – he was never cruel. It was just reality. And for them to stay alive, she would have to sacrifice her part, too.
She looked into the distance as the sky lit with a jolt of lightning. Three seconds later, thunder rumbled through the heavens.
Had she not realized how dire their circumstances were? She always assumed they would pull through together as a family, but this changed everything. Now she wouldn’t have Father to hold onto, and there would be no person to stand as a shield between her and Mother.
One tear after another dropped onto the desolate earth as she remained immovable where she stood. Should she give up her dreams and follow her father’s advice?
He pulled something out from behind his back, and her eyes widened to see a sword in his hand. He stepped closer, and she could see the details of the weapon.
It was awe-inspiring. The hilt was of pure gold, engraved with a serpent. The blade was two-edged and looked to be of the finest steel. Though the workmanship was foreign to Ceres, she could immediately tell it was of the finest quality. On the blade itself there was an inscription.
When heart and sword meet, there shall be the victory
She gasped, staring at it in awe.
“Did you forge that?” she asked, her eyes glued to the sword.
He nodded.
“After the manner of the northerners,” he replied. “I have labored on it for three years. Indeed, this blade alone could feed our family for an entire year.”
She looked at him.
“Then why not sell it?”
He shook his head firmly.
“It wasn’t made for that purpose.”
He stepped closer, and to her surprise, he held it out before him.
“It was made for you.”
Ceres raised a hand to her mouth and let out a moan.
“Me?” she asked, stunned.
He smiled wide.
“Did you really think I forgot your eighteenth birthday?” he replied.
She felt tears flood her eyes. She had never been more touched.
But then she thought about what he had said earlier, about not wanting her to fight, and she felt confused.
“And yet,” she replied, “you said I must not train.”
“I don’t want you to die,” he explained. “But I see where your heart is. And that, I cannot control.”
He reached a hand underneath her chin and lifted her head until their eyes met.
“I am proud of you for it.”
He handed her the sword, and when she felt the cool metal against her palm, she became one with it. The weight was perfect for her, and the hilt felt like it had been molded to her hand.
All the hope that had died earlier now reawakened in her chest.
“Don’t tell your mother,” he warned. “Hide it where she cannot find it, or she will sell it.”
Ceres nodded.
“How long will you be gone?”
“I will try to be back for a visit before the first snowfall.”
“That’s months away!” she said, taking a step back.
“It is what I must do to – ”
“No. Sell the sword. Stay!”
He placed a hand on her cheek.
“Selling this sword might help us for this season. And perhaps next. But then what?” He shook his head. “No. We need a long-term solution.”
Long term? Suddenly, she realized his new job wasn’t just going to be for a few months. It might be years.
Her despondency deepened.
He stepped forward, as if sensing it, and hugged her.
She felt herself begin to cry in his arms.
“I will miss you, Ceres,” he said, over her shoulder. “You are different than all the others. Every day I will look up into the heavens and know you are beneath the same stars. Will you do the same?”
At first she wanted to yell at him, to say: how dare you leave me here alone.
But she felt it in her heart that he couldn’t stay, and she didn’t want to make it harder on him than it already was.
A tear rolled down her face. She sniffled and nodded her head.
“I will stand beneath our tree every night,” she said.
He kissed her on the forehead and wrapped tender arms around her. The wounds on her back felt like knives, but she gritted her teeth and remained silent.
“I love you, Ceres.”
She wanted to respond, and yet she couldn’t get herself to say anything – her words were stuck in her throat.
He fetched his horse from the stable, and Ceres helped him load it with food, tools, and supplies. He embraced her one last time, and she thought her chest might burst from sadness. Yet still, she couldn’t utter a single word.
He mounted the horse, and nodded before signaling to the animal to move.
Ceres waved as he rode away, and she watched with unwavering attention until he vanished behind the distant hill. The only true love she had ever known came from that man. And now he was gone.
Rain started to descend from the heavens, and it prickled against her face.
“Father!” she screamed as loudly as she could. “Father, I love you!”
She fell to her knees and buried her hands in her face, sobbing.
Life, she knew, would never be the same again.
