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“Come on, Lare! Everyone goes.” Axel wove back and forth in front of her. She resisted the urge to smack him for using the ridiculous nickname he’d given her, unasked.
“What if I don’t want to go?” She kept walking. He kept backing up in front of her.
The lanky teen was persistent, she had to give him that. He kept trying even when Harlan inevitably yelled at him for every little thing. His shooting even improved after a few minutes with stone-faced Gered.
“You should go. That way you can scope out the other units and see where you might want to end up. When the choosing comes, you can at least put your bid in.”
Laramie swallowed the retort that she wasn’t going to be around that long. Gered’s face, and she imagined his eyes too, had been full of knowing warning about running two days ago at the range. They hadn’t crossed paths since. The recruits’ training schedule and—whatever the units did on their time off—didn’t really overlap.
She only really saw Gioia in the room before and after the day’s training. The trainees had their own table in the mess hall. She’d gotten to know them over the past few days. The two who’d come looking for the gangs, she stayed away from. They had violence in their veins.
Axel was a bundle of bright energy. She hated to think he was trying his hardest to be part of the gangs where it looked like anything remotely good or wholesome was beaten out of a person. The other two teens were more subdued, but just as eager to prove themselves as Axel.
But if everyone really goes, then I might get a better count of numbers.
“Okay, you convinced me.”
Axel’s face melted into a bright grin. “Knew I could.”
She couldn’t help a returning smile and eye-roll. “When do these fights happen?”
“Right after dinner tonight. Honestly, don’t you listen?” Axel shook his head in remonstrance.
“I’ve only been here three days.” She lightly punched his shoulder. He mocked an injury, limping a few steps for good measure.
“True, but you’ve already caught up with the rest of us who’ve been here for months.” For the first time, Axel’s cheer faded. Laramie hoped there wasn’t some sort of permanent solution for anyone who failed out of training or didn’t get chosen by a unit.
“Hey.” She jogged a step to catch up with him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Your marksmanship improved the other day. I’d say you have a pretty good chance of getting into whatever unit you want.”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “Gered probably wouldn’t want me in his unit.”
Her heart stuttered for a second. Someone wants to be in his gang? Although he seemed vaguely like a decent person, she still hadn’t quite forgiven him for bringing her in, then insulting her bike and her shooting.
“No one else?”
Axel shrugged lightly so as not to disturb her arm. “He helped me out of a jam when I first got here. Taught me how to stand up for myself without getting beat up in the process.”
Laramie quirked an eyebrow. “Gered did?”
She didn’t know why that surprised her. He’d done the same thing for her.
“And Dayo and the rest aren’t so bad either. Most of the other units are assholes.”
“Guess I really do need to go to these fights since I obviously don’t know anything.” Laramie shook her head. Tension was obvious between some of the units, such as Gered’s and Zelig’s. But then it seemed Zelig’s meatheads didn’t really get along with anyone.
“You’ve only been here for three days,” Axel offered.
She laughed and nudged him away. “True. All right, let’s get food and then you can show me where we’re headed.”
He jogged up the steps into the tower, but her steps slowed as they had every time she’d walked through the wide doorway.
The mess hall took up most of the bottom floor. Upstairs was Rosche’s domain. Twin staircases curved up on either side of the wide anteroom. Two large banners draped from the banister—red with coiled black vipers.
Pretentious.
She’d yet to see more than glimpses of Rosche since her initial encounter, which was fine by her. But every time she stepped inside, the feeling of being watched nudged at her back like an itch that couldn’t quite be reached. A shiver cut down her spine as she walked under the trailing banners. Her hand fell to her knife out of instinct and it gave her a little reassurance.
The feeling faded as she entered the cavernous dining hall. Axel was already heading for the recruits’ table wedged in the very back corner. Almost half of the thirty tables were filled, raucous conversations echoing off the stone ceiling and pillars.
Numbers painted on the long wooden tables marked each unit’s territory even within the hall. As far as she’d been able to tell, they were ranked by skill level. Or by Rosche’s determination of their worth.
She collected her tray from the counter and headed back to their table, ignoring some cat calls and staring down a few leering riders. Gioia was the only one who looked up from table four and acknowledged her. Dayo laughed over something, but a smile never cracked Gered’s face.
Laramie returned Gioia’s slight nod and kept walking, neatly avoiding one of Zelig’s men attempting to trip her. She reached the dimly lit corner without incident and slid in opposite Axel.
“There’s some new faces around.” She nodded to tables one and two.
Axel barely looked up from shoveling the unappetizing chicken and rice mash into his mouth.
“Oh, yeah, those are Barns and Moshe’s units. They just got back from patrol. They’re not bad.” He paused to drink. “Moshe’s probably the best shot in the whole gang behind Gered. You don’t want to mess with either of them.”
Laramie scraped up a forkful of rice. Moshe sat tall at Unit Two’s table. But unlike Gered, he smiled and laughed with his men.
Barns nearly bowed the bench under his bulk. There wasn’t much spare fat on his frame—muscles bulged from under his long sleeve shirt and even his snake tattoo looked beefier than everyone else’s. A sly smile permanently lurked in the corner of his mouth, his eyes always watching something as he talked.
Laramie tapped her fork against the plate. The units were never all in the mess hall at the same time. Some had more than the ten riders that made up Gered and Zelig’s gangs. Only the patches on left sleeves helped her sort riders into their respective units.
How many riders am I going to have to outrun?
Axel pushed his plate away and eyed hers. Laramie rolled her eyes and handed him the roll. He beamed at her and ate it like he hadn’t just eaten an entire oversized helping of food. Though she remembered being that way as a teenager and Ade complaining she couldn’t keep her fed.
It might help to get someone on my side.
She dismissed Axel. The boy had a wide-eyed look around any rider. And she didn’t want to get him in trouble. Her gaze fell to table four. Gered had warned her against running. It sounded like he’d tried. Would he be interested in trying again? Maybe she’d sound out Gioia later if they happened to be in the room at the same time.
She forced down another bite. She’d have to get more comfortable around everyone to see what kind of allies she could find.
After the meal finished, Axel led her to the second-largest building in the compound sheltered in the northwest corner, just outside the outer ring of barracks buildings.
“Come on!” He beckoned over his shoulder, pushing his way through the crowded riders.
Shouts and cheers reverberated off the wood, pounding through her chest as she pushed and shoved her way through, trying not to lose sight of Axel. He made for another thick ring of riders, clustered around an inset dirt arena.
He scored a position right at the top railing, looking directly down. She tried to catch her breath as she slammed into the rail beside him, scowling at the rider who’d crashed against her. The rider flashed a drunk grin and she swatted his hand away. He stumbled off and she turned back to the arena.
Barns and some other rider bare-knuckle fought in the arena. The impact of punches and their grunts were audible even over the noise.
Those not watching drank heavily at benches or tables pushed up around the outer edges of the building. The thick smell of beer and sweat and dirt permeated the air, and she took a few shallow breaths to accustom herself to it before turning her attention to the fight.
For all his bulk, Barns redirected his opponent’s attacks with ease. The rider began to get frustrated and his attacks came more open and aggressive. Laramie shook her head. He’s toast.
Sure enough, Barns finished him off with two well-placed punches. He collapsed into the dirt, breathing heavily, before taking Barns’s hand to regain his feet. Barns sent him limping off with a grin before raising his arms above his head and shouting victory. Riders leaned over the edge of the railing, pounding the boards with tattooed hands.
“Who’s next?” Barns turned in a slow circle.
Laramie ignored him and pushed up on her toes trying to get a better view of the back corners to count riders. Axel tugged her arm, bringing her attention back to the arena. She frowned at him, but his grin melted some of her frustration.
“Gered!” Barns shouted. “Come on! I need a challenge tonight!”
Laramie perked up in interest despite herself.
“Gered!” A rider somewhere along the rail shouted and more and more voices picked it up, chanting frenetically.
She found him, leaning on the rail across from her. His expression didn’t change, maybe a bit of annoyance creasing around his eyes. Dayo pounded his shoulder and shouted something in his ear. Gered rolled his eyes and shrugged out of his red jacket, shoving it into Dayo’s chest with something closer to a smile.
Dayo whooped and held the jacket above his head as the cheers reached a new pitch. Gered placed a hand on the rail and jumped down into the arena.
Barns grinned and pulled his shirt off. Gered rolled his eyes as “Oohs” spread around. The rider tossed his shirt up to a man from his unit. Gered raised an eyebrow, and his lips moved.
Barns tossed his head back with a laugh and replied. Gered shook his head, his jaw shifting as if trying to hide a smile. He pulled his shirt off and handed it up to Dayo.
The rattle of hands on boards picked up again, along with shouts as betting started.
“Who do you think will win?” she yelled into Axel’s ear.
He half turned his face toward her. “Gered!” Money changed hands with a rider on his left. Laramie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The kid’s man-crush on Gered was something else.
But she leaned a little closer on the railing to watch. Gered and Barns circled each other, mouths moving as if they’d done this a hundred times before. Though from Barns’s challenge, maybe they had.
Unlike the rider previous, Gered didn’t take Barns’s baiting moves. He kept his hands low and ready, feet testing the ground with every step.
Scars traced all over his muscled torso. Two lines of script ran lengthwise down his right forearm, but she was too far away to make out what they said. A spotted jackal leaped from his back up the right side of his ribs, its teeth dripping blood on his chest.
She swallowed hard. Tlengin raider sigil. For a second the air filled with smoke and screams. Laramie drove her fingernails into her palms, bringing her back to dust and betting.
Barns had made his first attack. Punches were thrown and blocked with dizzying speed. Gered dodged a kick. A strike caught him on the ribs, right on the jackal’s nose and he staggered back a step. Barns lunged forward to follow up his advantage and got a kick to his knee.
Okay, I understand Axel’s hype. Laramie shook her head. Barns was skilled to be sure—his attacks followed more of a military martial arts form. But Gered? He’d barely broken a sweat. Laramie recognized at least three different fighting styles, two of which were not being taught to the recruits. Lekan had taught her some of the Benshin style from the upper territory, but mainly she stuck with the travelers’ school.
Then it was over. Gered grabbed Barns’s arm, twisting it and throwing the bulkier man to the ground.
I bet he could even take Rosche.
Barns accepted his defeat with a good-natured grin. Gered clapped his shoulder and moved off. Calls followed, trying to coax him to keep his place as the new challenger in the ring. He shook his head.
Someone shouted a slur at his back. He didn’t pause, raising his middle finger high. Laughs broke out.
Dayo reached over the railing to help him climb back over. But movement on the other side of the arena distracted Laramie. Another rider jumped down.
“I challenge Gered for Unit Four!” he shouted.
Gered paused, his shoulders tensing. Dayo jerked his head up to study the challenger as a hush spread around the arena, rushing to drown bits of laughter and conversation in the back corners.
Gered turned slowly and stalked back to the center of the arena. Barns watched, arms crossed. The rider stood, posture loose and confident, but Gered ignored him, scanning the rails for something else.
Laramie followed until she found Zelig leaning on the rail, jaw set in anger.
“Sure you want to do this?” Gered didn’t move his gaze from Zelig.
The rider pounded his chest and bellowed something incoherent. Zelig didn’t break eye contact as he gave a slight nod.
“Barns, you’ll judge?” Gered asked.
Barns nodded and backed away from the center of the arena.
“What’s happening?” Laramie whispered to Axel.
“Anyone can challenge for a leadership position. Some units are always fighting. This guy’s an idiot if he thinks he can take over Four.” Axel shook his head. “Gered never loses. And he brought his riders all the way up to Four after he killed the last unit leader years ago. Some Tlengin relative of his, I think.”
A chill slithered over Laramie. This time there was no betting, only hushes of whispers rippling around the arena. Riders stood on tables in the back to get better views.
Barns waved them closer together, discussing something with them in a low voice that didn’t carry even in the silence. Gered and the other rider nodded once, then stepped back.
“All right!” Barns shouted. “Rules of the arena apply. Winner takes Four.”
He dropped his hand. This time, there was no testing, no circling. Gered charged forward, getting two sharp strikes in before his opponent managed to get his hands up. He caught the returning punch in both hands, wrenching the wrist into a crunching angle.
The man doubled over to get Gered’s knee slammed into his chest. Gered released him, shoving him away. The rider stumbled, face slack in shock and pain. Gered grabbed the rider’s shoulders, pulling him down and smashing a knee into his face. He dropped without a sound.
A hush followed as Gered spat contemptuously.
“Anyone else?” he shouted as he spun in a slow circle, fury still leaking from his eyes.
Dusting hells. Laramie stared at him. Seconds to take down the man.
A few heads dared shake around the arena. Barns prodded the fallen rider with his boot.
“What do you want done with him, Gered?”
Gered locked eyes with Zelig again. “String him up for the rest of the night.”
He turned his back on the arena, accepting Dayo’s hand to climb back over the railing. The crowd stirred back to life, conversations returning as two more riders jumped in and hauled the fallen rider away through a door set into the arena’s side. Zelig scowled as he watched and then pushed away.
Gered donned his shirt again, tugging the sleeves down to his wrists, covering all but the winding neck and head of the snake. Dayo passed his jacket back before turning to gleefully collect money from riders who pressed in around them. Gered leaned close to shout something in Dayo’s ear before pushing out of the crowd.
Laramie wasn’t the only one who tracked his path. Gioia pressed her lips in a tight line where she stood beside Dayo, hip braced against the railing. She didn’t move, didn’t change her even expression, but Laramie recognized the subtle way she leaned forward toward him, the look in her eyes.
Maybe Axel’s not the only one with a crush.
Laramie pulled back from the rail and hit Axel’s arm. “I’m gonna get some air!”
He shouted something back and pointed at the two new occupants of the arena. She shook her head, not wanting to stay.
She took one look over her shoulder. Gioia had turned her attention to the arena, trading words with Dayo now. Dayo leaned into her shoulder, eyebrows raised in a teasing, goading expression. She pursed her lips and pulled a few bills from her pocket with a roll of her eyes. Dayo laughed and leaned on the rail to shout at someone on her other side. It was the freckle-faced kid. The young rider listened for a second, watched the fighters in the ring, then nodded, taking whatever bet Dayo made.
Gioia raised a hand in annoyance, but kept watching the fight. Maybe she needed to have a conversation with Gioia anyway. Unit Four seemed like they were decent people, for the limited interactions she’d had with them. And if she approached Gered, she didn’t want to mess anything up for them. The Barracks didn’t seem like a place that forgave mistakes or oversteps easily.
When she finally broke free of the press of bodies and sweltering atmosphere, Gered was nowhere to be seen. She took a deep breath of the cleaner desert air. With the sunset, it had begun to cool incrementally. The breeze wicked away the last stench of sweat and men. Nothing stirred in the compound other than the faint motion of sentries on the walls above.
She came up short as she rounded the bulk of the tower. A dark figure slumped between two wooden posts in the middle of the yard. She assumed it was the rider Gered had defeated. The cuffs holding him up were going to be hell on his injured wrist.
From what Axel had said, the fights seemed to be a weekly event where everyone but those on sentry duty went to relax and lose whatever money they’d stolen from people that week.
She tapped a hand against her knife. She didn’t want to go back to the arena. Might as well get some sleep. It had taken a few nights to trust the lock on the outside of the door. The rules had been read out to her on her first day of training. Most didn’t really apply to her as a woman given she was only the third in the gang.
Rosche got the women. Town was the place to go for that when leave was given. No romantic attachments allowed as a unit rider. Everything was brought to Rosche first, and then distributed as he saw fit. Keep fights clean. The arena was the place to settle deeper scores. The unit leaders were second to Rosche and their influence waned the higher the troop number. No one ran, no one disobeyed, or they got a bullet. The posts were for minor infractions that weren’t enough for a bullet, but still enough a lesson needed to be taught.
The rules hadn’t stopped the looks and comments. She’d ignored most and broken at least one nose. Gered hadn’t been lying when he told her to keep her weapons on her at all times. Axel had been happy to inform her that word of her challenge to Rosche had also spread around to those who hadn’t witnessed it, giving her a little more protection.
She paused when she got to bunker four. The left garage door was halfway raised, faint light spilling out onto the dirt. She tapped her knife again. She’d seen all of Unit Four scattered around at the arena.
Which meant it could be Gered. Though she was seriously rethinking talking to him after the fight and the anger seeping from him. But she needed to make some sort of connection with a few riders to get some better information before trying to run.
Ever since the first day, he’d ignored her. But it seemed he just ignored everyone who wasn’t in his unit. A conversation wouldn’t hurt, right?
Deciding against just sliding under the door, she went up into the building first. She ran a hand over her braid. Am I really going to try this? Her traveler family’s faces flashed in front of her eyes. Kayin’s smile played in her mind. A rare bout of homesickness swept over her. If she got out, she was headed straight back to them. She’d try for the Itan settlement later.
I was a complete idiot to do this. She twisted the leather bands around her wrist. I’m getting back to them. And preferably before I get a new haircut.
Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door to the garage and stepped inside.
