Enchained (Enchained Trilogy book 1)

Chapter 17 The Hunt

Lines of burnt red peek through the rectangular windows of the room I stay in as I lay awake in bed, still on top of the sheets, having not bothered to cover myself; not that it matters since I had a fitful sleep. More red appears on the wall, transforming from slits to squares, to blocks. I get up and cringe when I notice how wrinkled my uniform is and scold myself for not taking it off before going to bed. At least I have another one. I pull it out of my duffel and put it on after straightening the wrinkled one, hoping that hanging it up will help it look less creased.

The soft swoop of the door across the hall as it closes alerts me that Commander Vye has already risen, dressed, and waits for me to report. Tucking my shirt in, I hurry out the door while still braiding my hair, so that it stays out of my face and is contained. She remains silent, but still manages to give me that scrutinizing look of hers, which always makes me feel as though I am being judged, before walking down the hall, up the steps, and out the door, while I follow without a word. Commandant Paq waits for us, pacing back and forth in an impatient manner, and I wonder how long he has been doing that, or if he even bothered to go to bed last night.

"You're both ready. Good. Good."

Neither Commander Vye, nor I respond, but Commandant Paq doesn't seem to care as he nods at a nearby arbiter who hurries off and returns with two more, dragging a man in chains: the same barbarian I had seen yesterday. The animal—he might as well be one with all the grunting noises that escape his mouth—yanks at the restraints, almost pulling the arbiters restraining him down with him, but they regain their balance and haul the barbarian toward us, throwing him to the ground. Hatred fill his eyes as he glowers at us.

"Let him go," Commandant Paq commands.

The arbiters nod and drag the barbarian to the open gate where they undo his restraints and jump back. The couth springs for them before darting away, as bullets riddle the ground next to his feet. A few seconds later, after he has assessed the situation, he runs off, disappearing into the brush.

"Choose your weapon," says Commandant Paq as another arbiter steps forth carrying an open case full of knives and holds it before me.

The entire situation unnerves me. My eyes dart to Commander Vye, who inclines her head, giving her approval. Knowing I have no choice, as Commandant Paq's presence bears down upon me, I pick a knife, weighing it in my hands and put it back, choosing another, handling one blade after another, until I settle upon one that feels natural within my palm. I say nothing as I take my chosen weapon and tie its sheath around my waist, next to my pistol, ignoring Commandant Paq's impatient sigh.

"You will not need that," he says to me, pointing at my pistol.

I glower at him. I go nowhere without it and do not wish to leave it behind while, I am about to embark into unknown territory with a man whose temperament is less than ideal, or as Faya would put it: neurotic. He thrusts his beefy hand toward me and I unhook my pistol from its holster, placing it in his outstretched palm, cringing as he drops it in a box held by another arbiter.

"Everyone ready?" asks Commandant Paq.

People nod and mumble, "Yes, sir."

"On the count of three. One... Two..."

"What is the prize?" I ask, interrupting the commandant, and Commander Vye's startled expression informs me that she did not expect my inquiry.

"Pardon?" Commandant Paq replies.

"This is sport, is it not?" I say. "So, there must be a prize if one wins."

Commandant Paq's eyes darken.