Free Markram Battles: Omens of Doom (Part II) by M.C. Muhlenkamp Page B

my elbow into his stomach. Then, I run.
    Eleven waits for me, only three of his fighters remain. He gestures for them to stay grounded as I spring forward, sword in hand. Nine and other fighters from my unit shout at me as I break the first rule of the battles by engaging Eleven in the arena. He grins openly, meeting my blade in the air and shoving it aside with his own. His legs take a swift step in my direction and his hand grips my wrist. The arena and everyone in it disappear from before my eyes, quickly replaced by a field of wild flowers. I struggle in vain against the unseen clutch of his fingers and hear Seven let out a powerful shout just as a stabbing pain cuts into my waist.
     
    My eyelids flutter and I swing my blade against my attacker, but there is no one there. An agonizing cry escapes my lips and I fall to the ground, unable to remain standing. The dusty air of the arena rushes into my eyes, blinding me, and I collapse at Eleven’s feet. I hear Seven screaming in the distance. His tone of rage rises above any other sound and, for an instant, everything in the stadium goes still. My body wants to give up, but my mind hangs onto the sound of his voice.
     
    I turn to see him move toward me amid the sandy haze that surrounds us. The rushing wind picks up loose strands of his long white hair and when he crouches down next to me whispers of astonishment break from the crowd. He places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes tight before looking for Eleven, who has retreated back with the rest of his fighters. He probes the side of my waist and I see his wrinkled forehead relax. “Stay put.”
     
    The rival fighters begin to creep their way back to us, but Seven’s commanding tone freezes them on the spot. “Stay where you are!”
     
    I pinch my eyebrows together, tears rolling down the sides of my face. Unit leaders aren’t allowed to intervene in the battle. He could die for this. I place my hand on his forearm. “To suffer myself to be burned with fire, tortured with rods, or killed with steel if I disobey.”
     
    He scoffs, irritated. “I don’t need you to remind me the Oath of Unit Leaders, Thirteen.”
     
    “I am done for. You know the rules. I can’t fight anymore. You know what awaits you if you try to save me.”
     
    “I know what awaits me if I don’t.” He wraps his hand around my neck as if the contact is somehow the only thing keeping him sane. “I’ll be damned if I let that happen.”
     
    I want to rebuke him, tell him that he is crazy, that it isn’t worth it, that I don’t think I want to continue living like this, that I don’t know if I can. But every attempt I make to speak crumbles as soon as it reaches my tongue. The truth is I don’t want to die. Not here. Not like this. I swore to myself I would fight. I direct my eyes toward the furry beast lying dead next to my sister’s lifeless body. I can barely make out her silhouette on the sand. Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up. Her words singe through me, consuming the monster inside, cleansing its dark cave, and bringing light to the darkness.
     
    I wrap my arm around Seven’s neck and he smiles, pulling me up to my feet. “Unit Seven, fall back!” I look around to see Nine, Five, and two other fighters from our unit run in our direction. We retreat, keeping distance from the rival unit. Seven releases my arm while still supporting my waist. “Can you stand on your own?”
     
    I press my feet harder against the ground. There is stabbing pain, but at least my legs are holding. “I think so.”
     
    Seven rests one of his hands on Nine’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “Stay here, if the other fighters confront you, engage them as a team.”
     
    I feel my stomach shrinking as I notice Eleven and his unit approaching. They are about fifty yards away and coming closer with every step.
     
    Seven turns to face them. “Enough!” his voice breaks through the silence that clings to the air of the arena. “This