Chapter Seventeen
Theairjerksfrommy lungs as I’m grabbed around the middle and yanked from the room. I know immediately it’s Cal, but it doesn’t stop me from panicking as he takes us around the corner and out of the Arena. Just like the Ropor’s Roportorium, this entry has three double doors into the Temple, similar to a church narthex.
Sliding me into the space behind the middle set of doors, I can see through the crack the chaos in the other room. Cal keeps one arm around my middle and the other over my mouth. Pressing my hand over his, I stifle the whimpers as we watch the melee.
The Ropors really are insects. They circle the walls, striking out at the crowd below with some kind of whip. The air crackles with electricity, and the ozone smell of burnt flesh fills the air.
Orclans are tripping over where others have collapsed on the floor, although all the Orcleen women, unfortunate enough to be in the Temple at the wrong time, have frozen in place like mannequins.
Pockets of fighters, back to back, attempt to strike back, but they’re woefully unprepared. My gut churns as the reality of the situation sinks in. We’ve led them here. Somehow, they were able to come through the portal looking for us.
But how?Do they know something we don’t? Or do they have another portal we didn’t know about?
That makes the most sense, but it doesn’t help us now.
There are multiple groups fighting, but my view is limited by what I can glimpse through the crack. And what I can see isn’t good.
I watch Jamal, along with three other trainees, get taken out in one fell swoop, crashing to the ground in a pile of twitching limbs. The only thing positive is Luc and Malk, working in tandem to take down the Ropors one at a time. Serlo’s trying to help, but they’re doing most of the heavy lifting. Don’t get me wrong, they’re making a dent, but it’s slow going as they make their way across the room, further and further away.
One thing that’s really obvious is that the Ropors aren’t necessarily trying to kill. It’s more like making a point.
A streak of guilt shoot through me. Cal should be with them. He’s strong and familiar with the Ropors. And most importantly, he’s not afraid. It’s easy to see the stark horror on the faces of the young trainees.
Why isn’t he out there?
His calm breathing against my back feels comforting, but he’s only here because of his promise to me. No more fighting. For me.
Fuck!
I’m so selfish. I’ve expected him to change who he is.
He was born and bred to fight. Not for the right purpose, since the Ropors have used him his entire life for their gain. But for exactly this reason. He deserves to fight for his freedom and a right to a life outside of their control.
And in return, I’ve expected him to accept me with all my biases and freaky visions. He’s never once doubted that I can see auras and visions. He’s accepted me exactly the way I am, with no proof or questioning.
Why haven’t I done the same?
“You should go.” My voice is low, but he stiffens behind me, so I know he hears. “They need you.”
“You need me. I’ll protect you.”
Turning around in the small space, I throw my arms around his waist, looking up into his piercing green eyes. “I know you will. But they need you right now. I’ll stay here, I promise. But you’re the best fighter.”
When all he does is lift his head to glance through the crack at the melee, I disentangle myself from his grip. “I release you from your promise. I was wrong to ask you to change such a fundamental part of yourself... for me. If anyone deserves payback against those fuckers—it’s you!”
Dropping until our heads are level, Cal whispers, “I love you, Edith.”
His lips slam into mine, knocking my head back roughly before he pulls away.
“I love you too.”
But he’s gone.
By the time I spin, sliding deeper into the recess behind the door to peer out, I can see him picking up weapons from the fallen trainees, bounding across the floor where he joins Luc and his father. I don’t see any of the other women except the Orcleens, who are still standing, paralyzed somehow, I assume. No one would willingly freeze in the middle of that mess.
At first I flinch, having a hard time watching. Especially when the electrical whips—I don’t know what else to call them—strike out at Cal and his group while they systematically work their way across the room, taking down Ropor after Ropor.
The younger trainees still standing have figured out what’s going on and join Cal, Luc, and Malk. They’re the only group not getting cut down right now. I watch their cute, innocent, and eager trainees stand their ground between the older Orclans. Back to back, they use their staffs to block and jerk, trying to keep the whips from wrapping around them and yanking them away.