She kept her face blank. “Do what you want,” she said. “Why would I care what happens to your servant?”
Now it was the Protector who fixed his piercing blue eyes on her. “We shall see,” was all he said.
Selena could feel Arren and Merin’s wards clamped tightly on her mind. Their ever-present wall separated her from her ability to summon her power. She wouldn’t be able to escape what was about to take place in front of her.
The sense of anticipation grew. The fight would soon begin. The crowd became even more raucous, far too loud for Selena to hear her own shallow breathing. She was all alone, despite being surrounded by people.
“Please, let it be quick,” she whispered under her breath.
But she knew it wouldn’t be. The Protector wanted her to see this demonstration. She would witness every moment.
The crowd gave a collective gasp, although Selena couldn’t see what had caused it. Then Galen turned and spoke to the Protector, nodding toward the fighting pit. “Three trulls. Each with a tame firehound.”
The Protector peered down to make his appraisal.
Selena followed their eyes and saw an enclosure built alongside the wooden fence. The three trulls who waited inside were thick and muscled, over six feet tall, with upturned snouts and long incisors protruding from their mouths. Two held thorn-studded clubs while a third hefted the biggest hardwood sword she had ever seen. Each had a loop of leather around his left hand, connected to the collars of slavering beasts.
Selena had never seen firehounds in captivity before. She looked down in morbid fascination. As she watched, one of the creatures darted forward before its master reined it in. The firehound’s skin was red and it was lithe—a sinewy creature, built for speed. Its hind legs were powerful, but it was the oversized head that drew her gaze. Two curling horns sprouted from the firehound’s crown and its jaws looked large enough to crush a man’s skull with a single bite.
“Here he comes,” Galen said.
“At last,” the Protector said. He glanced at Galen. “I trust nothing will go wrong this time. Your enemy is becoming too popular.”
The crowd roared as the portcullis on the far side of the arena ponderously rose.
Two men walked forward to a deafening chorus of howls and screams. Galen clenched his fists.
The Protector’s voice was incredulous. “That is the man who killed your brother? He doesn’t look like much. Is he limping?”
Selena couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
The warrior with the limp was Taimin.
Selena wanted to cry out. Taimin’s face was bruised. He looked terrible. Thoughts whirled through her mind. How had he come to be here? She could hardly breathe as she realized that Taimin was going to be killed, and she would be forced to watch it happen.
Despite Selena’s horror, she had to know the truth. “Why did he kill your brother?” Her voice was shaking as she leaned forward to stare at Galen.
Distracted, he cast her a quick look. “Eh?”
“The man down there. You never said why he did it.”
It was the Protector who spoke. “In days long past, our commander was a rover. He and that man have a history.”
Selena gasped. It was Galen. Taimin’s parents had been killed by rovers—two brothers—when he was young. His injury came from the same event.
Now he was about to die.
Down in the fighting pit, Taimin’s head turned. He lifted his gaze, searching, until he stared directly toward Galen. Then a change came over his face.
There was some distance between them, but it shrank to nothing. Selena felt as if she was right in front of him. He met her eyes as he saw her.
33
Selena.
It couldn’t be.
Her eyes were wide, and Taimin’s vision shrank to a narrow focus so that he could see the irises and the whites around them. He saw her parted lips, furrowed brow, and long coal-black hair.
Hope soared in his heart. She was alive. He had found her. After all his searching, here she was, so close he felt like he could reach out and touch her.
Then his emotions swiftly changed. How could she be sitting beside his greatest enemy? He had last seen her with a group of bax, who had also been hiding from the city guard on their wyverns. Galen must have freed her.
Surely she couldn’t be working with the Protector? As soon as they came, his doubts vanished. Selena was pale. He knew her too well. She would never assist Galen in his raids unless it was against her will.
The trumpeter gave a strident blast of his horn, forcing Taimin’s attention back to the fighting pit. He clenched his jaw. He had to survive.
When the crowd continued to cheer, another series of blares rang through the arena until the citizens at last fell silent. The plump herald, dressed in a bright-blue tunic, entered through a gate in the fence and opened his arms. He cast a beatific smile on the people above him.
“Citizens of Zorn!” he bellowed. “Welcome once again to the arena! I bring you these words from our exalted Protector, which I will convey to you now.” He indicated the Protector, seated near Selena, who stood and waved. After showing himself, the Protector sat down once more and the herald continued. “Today, my people, I, the Protector of Zorn, gazed out from the Great Tower. As I searched the lands around our fair city, I watched mantoreans fight over the stinking carcass of a wherry . . .”
With no time to lose, Taimin put his head close to Vance’s. “The trulls aren’t quick, so it’s the firehounds we’ll need to worry about first.” The herald was making an elaborate speech, but if Taimin was being insulted, the man’s words were wasted. “At some point we’ll have to engage the trulls, but for now, whatever you do, stay away from them.”
Taimin and Vance stood side by side, near the middle of the sandy floor. Both men watched the enclosure on the pit’s far side. The three trulls were new; Taimin had never seen them before. Trulls were never known to back down, and, even as he watched, the firehounds were sensing the growing tension. The red-skinned creatures snarled and threw themselves against the fence.
“By the rains, look at those monsters,” Vance muttered. “Have you ever seen jaws that big?”
“Listen to me,” Taimin said sharply. “They crunch bones in their jaws, that’s why their heads are so big. Worry about the horns before anything else.”
“So what’s the plan?” Vance asked. He cast Taimin a fearful look.
“We need to stay clear of the trulls and wait until the firehounds lower their heads to charge. Right before they make contact, their heads are down and they can’t see. So you have to stand firm. Wait until they’re on you and then dodge at the last possible instant. That’s your opportunity.”
Vance swallowed. “You’ve fought them before?”
“No,” Taimin said grimly. “Never.”
“That’s comforting.”
“Remember: don’t go near the trulls. Run if you have to, but don’t get tied up in a swordfight until the firehounds are dead.”
“Taimin?”
“Yes?”
“You can’t run, can you?”
“No, I can’t.”
“We’re dead, aren’t we?”
Taimin let out a breath. “Our chances aren’t good.”
The herald left the floor and then a strident blare of the horn signaled the start of the fight. The crowd gave a shout when the enclosure gate crashed open. Taimin moved to the side, circling around so he and Vance would present two separate targets.
Immediately two of the trulls released their firehounds.
The creatures’ lean red bodies were a blur as they sped forward. Taimin cursed when he saw that both had gone for Vance, with one just ahead of the other.
The nearest firehound to Vance lowered its head to charge. Taimin tensed; the creature was big enough to place its horns at the height of Vance’s waist. Vance deftly jumped to the side and cut down with his sword. Taimin saw his friend’s blade bite deep into the firehound’s flank, o
pening up a terrible wound. It was a death blow, and the best start Taimin could have hoped for. The firehound gave a yelp and collapsed.
Then, as Vance’s lunge took him off-balance, the second firehound struck. The creature barreled into Vance’s upper leg, striking more with its head than its horns. Vance went down, and a trull snarled as he lumbered forward to follow up and attack the prone man. The trull raised his spiked club.
The crowd roared.
Although Vance was in trouble, Taimin was forced to tear his eyes away—the two remaining trulls, one with a firehound, were both nearly on him. Taimin knew he had to keep them both in front of him and backed away. A swift glance told him that Vance was fighting the third trull. His and Vance’s strategy had fallen apart in the first moments of the fight.
Retreating slowly, Taimin was keenly aware of the wooden fence behind him. He came to a halt and watched carefully as the two trulls closed in. One gripped an immense sword. The second held a studded club as well as the leash of his snarling firehound.
Taimin glanced left and right, desperate to find some new plan or advantage he could use. He decided to do the last thing his enemies expected.
Before the trull could release the firehound, Taimin charged.
He focused on his footing and struggled to control the jarring pain as he ran. After the trulls’ initial surprise, the one with the leash did what Taimin expected him to do. He released his firehound.
Taimin knew he was making a gamble, but this fight wouldn’t be won by conventional tactics. He planned to use his momentum, and that of the firehound, to best advantage.
Even as he lumbered forward, he judged his moment carefully. The firehound raced toward him. The distance shrank. Taimin sank to one knee. He held his sword in front of him with both hands gripping the hilt. He didn’t plan on stabbing the animal. He only wanted to create a threatening barrier.
The sharp point of the sword startled the animal and it reared. Taimin saw his chance. He grunted and stabbed. The firehound howled when the sharp sword plunged into its chest. Taimin withdrew the blade and immediately launched his body into a forward roll that would take him between his two snub-nosed opponents. He left the dead firehound and kept rolling, until he was past the trulls. When he shot back to his feet, he was behind them.
He took swift stock of his situation. He had startled his two opponents, but Vance’s expression was desperate as he fought his own enemy. Taimin’s movements had taken him closer to his friend and he knew he had to come to his aid. Taimin moved again into the awkward run that was the best he could manage. While Vance held the attention of the trull facing him, Taimin moved to approach from behind. He raised his weapon above his head. With a savage cry he slashed at the exposed back of Vance’s opponent. The basalt wood cut through the trull’s thick skin, biting deep.
The crowd gasped. As the trull twisted in pain, trying to combat the new threat, Vance lunged and the point of his sword thrust into the trull’s chest. Taimin and Vance moved to stand side by side as the trull’s body fell heavily to the sand.
Taimin and Vance exchanged glances. Vance was pale; he had escaped being gored, but the firehound’s charge had injured his leg. Meanwhile Taimin was panting and his bruised ribs hurt with every breath. He had been weak when the fight began, and already he felt light-headed. Despite the pain, he knew it was the fatigue that would kill him. As he weaved on his feet, Vance reached out a steadying hand.
But then Taimin realized that the firehound that had struck Vance was far from dead. The red-skinned creature had lurked near the barrier fence, awaiting its opportunity, and now it raced forward. Taimin only saw the blur of its passage as it struck.
“Look out!” Taimin cried.
Vance tried to turn but he was too late, and the firehound’s horns struck him hard in his side. For a moment Taimin couldn’t make sense of what was happening as the firehound tossed its head and Vance tried to evade the snarling creature. When Vance fell to one knee, Taimin made a desperate lunge and the point of his sword dug into the firehound’s side. Striking ribs, he pushed as hard as he could before the blade slipped through.
In an instant the last of the three firehounds was dead. Vance was on the ground, grimacing as he pressed his hands against the wound in his side. Blood welled between his fingers. He looked at Taimin and shook his head, and then fell back to stare up at the sky.
There was nothing Taimin could do for Vance other than put some distance between himself and his stricken friend. As the two trulls closed in, working together, Taimin’s gaze shifted from one to the other. The trull with the sword was tall and powerfully built. Taimin’s other opponent had a missing eye, yet he swung his spiked club with short, chopping motions, as if the heavy basalt wood was as light as a feather.
Taimin knew he could never defeat them both. If he was at his full strength, there was a small possibility he might survive. But his thoughts were dull and part of him just wanted to sleep. As hope fled, a growing weariness came over him. His short hardwood sword felt impossibly heavy.
The raised voices of the crowd came from all directions. There were no jeers or heckles; people in the front were standing and shouting, calling out words of encouragement. The two trulls approached slowly, still wary and taking their time. The bigger one glanced at Vance, lying in the sand, but knew he was no threat.
A man from the crowd yelled. “Come on, Taimin!”
A youth cupped his hands around his mouth. “Fight, Taimin! Fight!”
More shouts came from every direction.
“We’re with you, Taimin!”
“Don’t let them win!”
“If Abigail can do it, so can you!”
Taimin glanced at Vance again. His friend’s face was pale and his eyes were closed. Blood soaked the sand around him. Vance needed urgent help.
Desperation brought strength back to Taimin’s limbs. As the two trulls closed in to attack, Taimin’s hardwood blade immediately barred the air in front of his face to block a blow from the spiked club. The one-eyed trull snarled, and then Taimin’s intuition told him to duck. The bigger trull’s huge sword whistled over his head.
Taimin weaved and struck into the big trull’s backswing, scoring a shallow hit near the collarbone. Remembering Abi’s advice, he moved to place the one-eyed trull in the way of his bigger ally. For an instant they were both confused.
But Taimin had only bought himself a few moments. He faced his opponents and took steps backward, breathing hard as his lungs fought for air. He knew he couldn’t last long. He was simply too weak.
The big trull with the sword touched his fingers to the wound just below his neck and scowled when he saw his own red blood. Both trulls sensed victory and came in fast. If they could pin Taimin against the fence, he would die.
Taimin had to attack before it was too late. He singled out the trull with the sword and tried to rush forward, but his leg wasn’t up to the task. The big trull swung his sword and Taimin leaned to the side as the blade whistled past his ear. Off balance, Taimin fell and was forced to roll to evade a second sword blow. The agony in his foot gave him an idea, and while he was on the ground he chopped at his opponent’s ankle. The big trull bellowed and looked down to find the source of the pain, which gave Taimin the opportunity to thrust upward through his torso. Another roll took Taimin away from the trull as he collapsed.
Taimin’s chest heaved as he climbed to his feet. He now faced the one-eyed trull with the club. The trull came at him with a strong overhead swing, and with all of his weight on his good leg Taimin knew that if he tried to weave, he would fall. He raised his hardwood sword and felt the force of mountains strike the blade. The muscles in his arms screamed.
Taimin gritted his teeth and pushed. He put all of his strength into throwing his bigger opponent back. But as he glanced at the blade of pale basalt wood, he saw a long crack appear. The crack widened.
Wood splintered and the blade broke off at the midpoint. Taimin found himself holding not
hing more than a shard of wood. The trull raised his club over his head.
With a gasp, Taimin fell to one knee.
He knew it was over.
Selena felt the blood drain from her face.
Taimin’s sword had shattered. With just a wide splinter of basalt wood in his hands, he was on one knee with his opponent looming over him. The trull lifted his spiked club over his head. When it struck Taimin’s skull, nothing would save him.
Unable to restrain himself, Galen stood, eager to see the blood of the man who had killed his brother. The Protector chuckled and tapped his fingers on his knee.
The people of Zorn shouted until all their words mingled together, their pleas for Taimin to survive merging to become one. Every member of the crowd gazed down at the man below. Tight faces betrayed tension as the onlookers waited for what would happen next. The golden sun Dex was directly overhead, bathing the arena in a furious brilliance.
Looking up at the golden orb, Selena felt something terrible rise within her.
She could sense her power, trapped by the wall that the two mystics had built, confined by the pressure they exerted. Although they were behind her, she knew that Arren and Merin would be focused on the fight—as distracted as they would ever be. They weren’t aware that Selena and Taimin knew each other. They would be consumed by the prospect of death, excited that blood was about to be spilled.
Selena reached for her symbol, and as the savage emotion inside her spurred her to greater efforts she felt her ability swell. She fed her desperation to her power, and like dry tinder given to a fire, the radiance inside her blazed.
She couldn’t have calmed herself no matter how hard she tried, so she poured all of her fears into the raging inferno inside her mind. She fed it until it was too bright for her to contemplate, too huge to stay small for a second longer.
Then Selena realized what it was she had built. Rather than a moon, she had created a sun. Her sphere of fiery energy pulsed and glowed. The sphere was still confined, but inside her mind she had taken hold of more power than she ever had before.
A Girl From Nowhere Page 29
