“Looks like they have all our stuff loaded,” Ben said.
“They’ll feed the horse?”
“Of course. The boarding fee covers everything. Food, water, walks, everything. The horse will be fine.”
Raven nodded. “I suppose you’re right. He’ll enjoy a few days of rest.”
“Ready to go?” He took her hand.
“I guess so.” Her body trembled.
“This was your idea, remember?”
She nodded. The stable hand tugged the cart forward and slowly headed toward the barn. There was really no turning back.
Cliffhold lay ahead, and the game awaited.
They boarded the carriage, which was really a covered cart, with seats of tapestry and doors of painted wood. The interior of the carriage was painted in colorful swirls and spots that blended with the cushioned seats, and bits of shiny metal shone in the dim light.
Fancy.
Raven buckled the belt around her waist and cinched it tight. Her hands shook and perspiration dampened her palms.
She glanced up at Ben, his face glowing. He took it all in stride, like always. He met every challenge with bravery and acceptance. Raven wiped her hands across her pants. He was that way because he never failed at anything. She had every reason to embrace the anxiety she felt.
Her life was full of mistakes.
She peered out the carriage window as the handler clipped the pegasus into its bindings.
The creature was so dark black, he would be almost invisible in full darkness, except for his deeply red eyes. His wings, strong and shiny, jutted from his back and arched through the air.
He stepped and clomped, pushing at the bit to get going, his wings sending a draft of warm air through the open windows of the carriage. He snorted, and his eyes flashed as he flicked his head to and fro.
Majestic.
So much power in one creature.
Ben put his arm around her, and she leaned against him. The ride would only take a few minutes, and she was looking forward to it being over. After checking one more time to make sure their things were secure, the coachman climbed into the front seat where he’d guide the pegasus, and buckled in.
“Ready?” He held the reins taut.
“We are,” Ben answered with a gusto that calmed Raven.
Her mouth went dry as the pegasus beat its wings and lifted its feet in a giant leap on ascent. How one animal could bear the weight of the cart, cargo, and passengers was amazing. The creature wasn’t much larger than their horse, yet its strength must be ten times as much.
Raven glanced out the window as the cart listed to the side and they left the ground in a yank, throwing her back into the seat. The sun barely crested the valley between mountains in the distance, a ring of flaming yellow wavering against the deep red disk as it lowered below the horizon. The hum of what sounded like a thousand wings beating the air filled her ears and the pegasus whinnied and sped toward Cliffhold.
Raven closed her eyes, squinting them shut as the carriage bumped and jostled in the evening air.
Cliffhold was quaint, even by Lostmere standards, yet full of everything a traveler could need. How pegasusi ferried all the larger supplies to the town was a mystery. Cliffhold was like any village on the ground, full of tea shops and fountains and bakeries. Rows of shops lined winding cobblestone streets and chimneys dotted the skyline. Even medicine stores and feed stores had a place in Cliffhold.
Supply wasn’t an issue. The town had everything a visitor or resident needed.
A couple of inns perched on the cliff edge and they’d rented a room in the one closest to the field where the game was to take place. Raven had been able to see the amphitheater from the window in their room.
The field was empty, so she didn’t bother to head there to look it over before dinner, but it was great to know that they wouldn’t have far to walk the next morning. Ben was so hungry after eating small meals on the trip and they decided to splurge a little for a larger selection of food than usual.
The food at the bar had been good, though Raven hadn’t recognized the meat stew she was served. Some of the root vegetables were familiar, but the spices were completely different from what she was used to in Lostmere, and the savory dish was a welcome change.
They’d finished eating and the barkeep had cleared the table of everything but their drinks. Raven ran her finger over the condensation on her glass. Too tired to talk much, she closed her eyes to rest a moment.
Noise lit up the bar in a wave, and Raven popped awake and scanned the crowd to locate the source. Elves and dwarves, and even a few fairies gathered around bar tables, sharing ales and tales. From what she could tell, everyone was talking about the game, though she couldn’t tell if any of the people discussing it were planning to participate. From the sound of the conversation, people wanted to be spectators, or maybe bet on the outcome, or both.
The game appeared to be a welcome distraction from daily life.
“Are you here to compete?” A young dwarf, his beard in the early stages of growing, stepped up to their table. He pulled his cap from his head and held it tightly in his small fists. “Begging your pardon, miss.”
Raven looked to Ben. Something about the bar gave her an uneasy feeling, but she couldn’t figure out why. The dwarf was harmless—just another bar patron that had had too much ale. No, it was something else that set her on edge. She was so thankful Ben had come with her.
“What do you want?” Ben asked.
The dwarf edged closer. “Are you here to compete?”
“We may. We need to hear the terms first. But we did travel from Lostmere to see what all the excitement is about.” Ben downed his drink. “What about you?”
The dwarf looked around the room before meeting Raven’s gaze, ignoring Ben. “You look like a risk-taker.”
A group of men in the corner let out a simultaneous laugh. Raven tensed, but the men weren’t looking her way. They weren’t laughing at her. She turned to the dwarf.
“I can be a risk-taker.” She straightened. “But not unnecessary risks.”
“I see.” The dwarf paused, then shoved his hand in his pants pocket. “Then you need this.”
Ben tensed. Raven put her hand on his arm. The last thing they needed was to get into a fight before the game and she knew Ben was on defense from the way he responded to the dwarf’s movement.
The dwarf pulled out a small silver coin and set it on the table in front of Raven. Ben relaxed, letting out a breath.
“What’s that for?” Raven nodded toward the coin.
“It’s for you. It’s good luck.”
“Oh thank you but I don’t accept money…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to come up with an excuse so she wouldn’t anger the dwarf.
Around them, voices buzzed, and people drank. No one seemed to notice their conversation.
“Take it.” The dwarf made eye contact. “Keep it close while you play the game. You need all the good luck you can get for the game. The mountain said you must.”
“I didn’t say I was going to play.” Raven picked up the coin.
The mountain said I must?
Surely she heard the dwarf wrong.
The dwarf was gone.
Raven stared at the silver coin on the bedside table. She couldn’t shake the dwarf’s last words. The mountain said you must.
Whatever had happened to her dream was now getting out of hand. Other creatures were participating in her hallucinations, and it wasn’t amusing. Mountains didn’t talk. She knew that.
And now creatures were bringing her good luck charms. No matter. She’d carry it with her to the games. There was no dark magic surrounding the coin that she could detect, and she was superstitious enough that she couldn’t leave it in the inn or spend it.
She glanced at Ben curled up on the bed. He’d questioned her about the mountain, but he didn’t seem to believe that she’d heard it talking to her—saying it was her anxiety playing tricks on her. He was
probably correct.
The heightened excitement in Cliffhold about the game didn’t help ease her mind or her anxiety. So many residents were talking but so few planned to compete, or so it sounded like. Why was that? Didn’t everyone think the opportunity was one that couldn’t be missed?
She plucked the coin up and held it close. One side bore the shield of Wildhold with its moon and three stars. The other side depicted the great fire mountain, molten earth pouring down its side.
The coin glinted in the lamplight and she reached to set it down, when it glowed a bright green. She held it up as the green faded.
So, the coin was magic. Faintly, but magic nonetheless.
That was an interesting twist. Maybe that’s what gave it its good luck aura. She still didn’t sense any subversive magic or evil, so it probably just held the charge of a good luck amulet, nothing more. With her protective necklace, her sword, and the coin, she should be covered against dark magic and dragons.
Raven’s mouth hung open as she made her way onto the field. The crowd filled the amphitheater with chatter and the field widened toward the middle. The field was a lot larger than it looked from her room at the inn, and she could barely see end to end.
Vendors sold colorful wares along the edges, and gambling tents overflowed with people preparing to bet on contestants they liked. Even a few temporary bars had set up to take advantage of the crowd.
She’d already gone through the initial check-in, which was really nothing more than name and hometown, and now stood in the center of the field, waiting on the rules to be announced. Ben had convinced her not to wear her armor, but her sword hung in its scabbard on her side. She touched her necklace, feeling it warm beneath her fingertips. The coin was in her pocket.
She was ready.
Ben was in centaur form, and that kept everyone from crowding around her. His intimidating presence kept everyone a couple steps away. Seemed that the residents of Cliffhold didn’t trust centaurs either, or they were afraid of them. She stood close to him as they waited for the announcements they’d been told were coming.
The grass underfoot was damp with dew and the morning sunlight cast a rosy pinkness across the sky. Crowds had filed onto the field and she wondered how many people were still in the town preparing for another work day. So many had turned out really early in the morning to see what was going to happen and it seemed that everyone in Cliffhold knew about the contest.
“There’s the podium.” She pointed to a wooden structure at the end of the field. “Let’s get closer.”
Ben nodded and cut a path toward the stage. Raven put her hand on his warm flank and stayed close. The crowd parted for them to move through and Raven avoided eye contact with anyone. She was at the contest to win, not to make friends, and she didn’t really care if everyone was nervous around Ben’s centaur.
Maybe it gave her a bit of an edge.
But how would she win against so many others? She leaned on Ben when he stopped close to the stage. She hadn’t really thought about how many contestants would compete in the games. For some reason, she’d been under the impression it would be a more intimate crowd.
She’d been focused on herself and her own drive to win, and now she realized that there could be a lot of participants.
A tall, thin man climbed onto the stage and moved to the podium. His black hair flamed in a poof of fuzz on the top of his head, and his skin had darkened in the warm sun of Wildhold. A thick scar cut over the corner of his mouth, giving him the appearance of a perpetual scowl.
The crowd quieted and the man looked out at everyone, pausing before speaking. Raven couldn’t tell if he was elf or fairy or what kind of creature. Not that he mattered. He wasn’t a contestant.
The man’s entourage joined him on stage. An elf, a dwarf, and an exotyl circled him, the exotyl on a leash and snapping its jaws at the air. The dwarf fought to hold on to the leash as the creature lunged and bit at phantom enemies. How anyone could have one as a pet confused her, especially when there were so many cute and furry creatures in Lorkhit Ka. Exotyls didn’t even have fur over their whole bodies. And their bite could envenomate with a very painful poison if they chose. Who wanted a pet that could hurt you if it got mad?
Or one that could leave sticky prints wherever it sat?
Ben squeezed her hand and she smiled at him.
“My name is Rupe,” the tall man said. His voice, though low and soft, carried over the crowd and seemed to whisper in Raven’s ear, as if he were standing beside her. “Welcome to the game of the ages.”
His voice sent vibrations throughout her body.
The crowd clapped and cheered. Raven kept her eyes on the podium. She was almost certain that the elf with Rupe was Zelonga. But how would he have gotten to Cliffhold before they did unless he was able to ride all night? It didn’t matter. He said he worked for Rupe, so it probably was him. If he left right after talking to her, he would have had several hours to get ahead.
“Those who intend to compete, please step forward. I will go over the rules with you before you decide if you’re brave enough to continue. The stakes are high, and I don’t want any confusion, so we will take this very seriously.”
“Uh oh,” Ben said. “That doesn’t sound good.”
Raven tugged him. “Let’s get closer.”
She stumbled backward, catching herself before falling, but not before she stepped on someone’s toes. He appeared to be a dwarf. He was muscular, with broad shoulders and thick arms. Maybe he was a blacksmith.
The dwarf was dressed in a long, brown tunic with deep-green trousers. Very likely a dwarf from the mines in Wildhold.
“Watch out, you oaf.” He crossed his arms, and his eyes flickered from dark green to red. His muscles continued to bulge and Raven fought the urge to roll her eyes.
He thought he was something special because he was muscular. Ben could take him with a swift kick, and she could fight circles around him with her sword.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
She hadn’t meant to step on him, and there was no point in upsetting him. What hag had cursed his attitude?
“Stupid fairy.”
His words hit her in the gut worse than a punch. Anger rose in her stomach and she was about to lose it when large, warm hands clasped her upper arms.
“Raven.” Ben’s closeness soothed her. “Don’t…he’s not worth it.”
“I’m not stupid.” Anger gave way to pain and she wiped her nose.
“You are not stupid. Let it go.” Ben pulled her away from the dwarf and toward the stage. “He’s nothing. We’re here for the game, not to fight with people we don’t even know.”
She nodded and hugged the centaur’s neck. “You’re right.”
He was right, too. She didn’t need to get tossed from the game before it even started.
“Come on, let’s get closer.” He guided her to a spot near the front of the crowd, everyone moving out of his way as he walked.
Raven glanced back at the dwarf. His long hair fell past his broad shoulders in a tangle and his nose bent to the side like it had been broken several times in the past. He caught her staring and raised his fist. She looked away.
Some people were grouchy for no reason.
“Here are the brave ones. So, you want to play my game?” Rupe paced the small stage. “Fewer than I expected, and the number will certainly decrease before the sun moves again.” He patted the exotyl and the creature gnashed its teeth.
“He must use magic to get his voice to do that,” Raven whispered. “I can hear him as well as if he was as close to me as you are.”
“Definitely using magic, and that makes me worry.”
“Magic isn’t bad,” Raven said.
“No, but this is supposed to be a fair game. Magic isn’t fair. He could use it to throw the game to the contestant he prefers. Or to stop someone who is winning. I don’t like it.”
“It’ll be fine. I’m sure his rules cover the details, and it’s no
t like he’s competing.”
“True, but I have questions. What’s in this game for him? Why would he hold a game with a prize, if there’s nothing for him to gain?”
“I guess we’re going to find out.”
“We’ll see if he reveals his magic.”
Though the dragons had stolen most of the magic in Oriste, small bits of it still existed, especially in less populated areas of the continent. In Lorkhit Ka, there were areas that were rumored to still have tribes that used magic in their everyday lives. Even Lostmere had magical objects, and it was a small village compared to larger cities like where the palace was in Summercliff. She held her necklace, the slight magical tingle tickling her palm.
The dragons would never be able to take all the magic from Oriste, though they could control enough of it to rule everyone that lived there, unless they were stopped. She glanced at Ben. He and his guards would be fighting the dragons when the time came.
And it would probably be soon. She instinctively scanned the sky for the beasts, but only white, trailing clouds streaked across the blue dome of the sky.
Rupe continued, “All of you are here to watch the festivities?” He waved his arm over the crowd. “Cheer on your friends? It’s going to be an exciting game, if I do say so myself.”
Raven turned. The group that intended to compete was much smaller than the crowd on the field. Most had stepped back to watch, leaving maybe twenty-five in the closest area to the stage, waiting to play the game. The dwarf remained, too. The fury she’d felt when he called her stupid had eased but the urge to crush him in the game grew.
I’ll beat him if I get the chance.
It didn’t matter what the rules were, she was competing. She hadn’t come this far to turn around and go home empty-handed. Her gaze stopped on the dwarf again. With his broad shoulders and muscular build, she was sure he was a leader where he came from. He had that air of authority, however misplaced. She snapped her gaze back to Rupe before the man spotted her staring again.
Nothing was going to intimidate her.
Raven's Game Page 5
