“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, her face red with the effort of shouting over the chaos. She had brown greasy hair slicked back in a ponytail, and her two front teeth were missing. It dragged a lisp across her words. She used her knife as she gesticulated along with her grandiose speech. “These people thought it was okay to walk through our city.”
Gasps ran around the room. Many of the soldiers booed. Some of them shook their heads. Others hammered against the glass.
“I know,” the knife-wielding woman said. “The cheek of it, right? Maybe they didn’t realise this city belongs to us. I mean, the place is a wreck, and if they’d spoken to Fury, they’d be forgiven for assuming it was no more than a fighting arena for the two armies. But unlike Fury, we have ambition for this city beyond a no-man’s-land.” She stamped on the wooden platform when she said it. The crowd cheered. “We’re taking this city back. We’re putting more resources and more people into claiming this territory. First, we’ll occupy the city, and then we’ll take Fury. We’ll move out like a plague, overrun them, and end this cursed war.” The crowd cheered. “No longer will we send our kids to the slaughter in a fight with no purpose. Unlike Fury, we care about our citizens. We owe it to them to make this last push. This city is ours. Now we need to make sure the world knows it. So I say it’s a good job we found these trespassers. They need to learn. They need to …” The woman cupped a hand to her ear.
The chaos of the crowd’s screams and jeers melded into one singular chant. “Walk. The. Plank! Walk. The. Plank!”
The greasy woman smiled. Like before, she cut the air with her sword, commanding silence. The diseased continued to wail with discontent. They continued to shove one another and snarl. “But first,” the woman said, “we decide who lives. Someone needs to tell the tale, right? To let everyone know this city belongs to Fear. A well-told story can repel would-be attackers as effectively as any army.”
A soldier shoved Max, and he stumbled forwards another step. He stood in between Hawk and Artan. The three of them lined up facing the soldiers on the other side of the arena.
“So,” the woman said, pointing at her three new prisoners with the tip of her sword, “which one do we save?” Max first, she levelled her blade on him. “This one?” A small section of the crowd cheered.
When the woman highlighted the scowling Hawk, the soldiers fell silent. If Hawk cared, he hid it well. He’d fight every one of them given half a chance, and he had no problem showing it.
And finally, Artan. His boyish good looks and tanned skin sent the crowd wild. Strong featured, brooding, and physically fit. Many of them slammed their open palms against the clear wall surrounding the rink. It shook and rattled. Many more stamped their feet. Whistles ran so shrill they forced Max’s shoulders into his neck.
The woman with the sword grinned. She cut the air with her blade again. “Well, it looks like we have a clear favourite, then.” Somewhere between a smile and a sneer lifted one side of her mouth when she looked Artan up and down. “It’s just a shame we have to let him go. I could do with a new pet.”
All the soldiers had entered the arena. And still no sign of Olga. Max needed to stall for time. Give her as long as he could. What other choice did they have? He opened his mouth, but someone cut him short.
“Val!” The call echoed in the tight corridor leading from the foyer to the arena.
The woman with the sword paused, and the crowd quietened.
Several soldiers entered. A scuffle amongst them. At first it looked like the blue army were fighting one another until a flash of red revealed the twisting and writhing form in their midst. Smaller than her captors, she continued to twist and turn as if it she could affect her current situation.
“Well, well.” The woman with the knife smiled, stepping aside to avoid the flurry of activity being dragged up to the platform.
The soldiers with Max, Artan, and Hawk also moved aside. Blood ran from the red soldier’s nose. It coated the lower half of her face as a mask of blood. Swelling closed her right eye, and the other one remained open with just a squint.
The woman with the sword showed where she wanted Fury’s soldier: in front of Max and his friends. A finer prize than the three boys. It bought Olga more time.
The soldiers’ boos and jeers damn near shook the building’s foundations.
This time, the woman with the knife basked in the chaos. She smiled and spread her arms wide. She then gestured at the two soldiers on the platform with her.
The back of Max’s knees weakened when they kicked Fury’s soldier at the same time. Her arms and legs flailed as if she could somehow find purchase in the air. A desperate and instinctive attempt to save a life already lost.
The diseased caught the red soldier’s stage dive and dragged her under, burying her beneath a writhing and ravenous carpet.
The enclosed space amplified the soldiers’ cheers, and Max’s ears rang from their response. If he didn’t take his moment now, he might not get another chance. He leaned close to his friends. “We might still get out of this.”
“How do you work that out?” Hawk said.
The soldiers on the platform were occupied with their enemy’s demise. “I saw Olga on the roof of a building. She watched us get caught. Hopefully, she’ll work out a way
