Rod of the Heart

by Cebelius

  By the time he recovered she was back on her feet, dusting herself off as she looked at him appraisingly.

  "I suppose there's a first time for everything, template," she said conversationally as she started forward again. "I've never been taken off my feet before in one of these fights. That was an interesting trick."

  "Yeah, and you weigh half a ton. What the hell did you have for breakfast this morning, granite?" he asked as he backed away, guard up, almost convinced now that there was no way for him to win. A fall like that should have done some damage or at least taken her wind, even on sand, but she seemed completely unfazed.

  I'll be damned if I give up though. There's got to be a way. There's ALWAYS a way. I just have to find it.

  "My first proxy was a rush job," she said, shrugging as she brought her hands up and stepped in. "This one is quality. While I've enjoyed your demonstration of skill, I'm thinking it's about time I wrap this up."

  She executed a quick one-two that he wove his head around, but then she surprised him by spinning violently away and into a crouch. The significance of the move didn't register until her tail swept both his feet completely out from under him, landing him flat on his back.

  She stepped in, but Terry's instincts were good. He set his hands above his shoulders and curled his body up, then slammed both his feet into her unguarded face with all the considerable power of his body.

  The blow landed squarely, and for the first time since the fight started it was clear Astur felt it. She staggered backward as blood flew from her shattered nose.

  Terry kipped to his now aching feet and rushed in, managing to land another straight right jab to her broken nose and then a hard cross that rocked her further back and sent her staggering to her knees.

  Unfortunately, Terry couldn't follow up. The ring and pinkie fingers on his left hand had broken when the blow landed and the pain lancing up his arm was enough to put spots in his vision.

  Yeah, that was stupid.

  Keeping his eyes on the slowly standing dragon, he rapidly unwound his left wrap and then retied it, binding his fingers together as tightly as he could but leaving his hand open as he secured the rest of the wrap to his wrist. His grip wouldn't have much strength, but it was the best he could do. One thing that had been made clear to him from the start; this fight had no rounds, no breaks. It was all or nothing in one go.

  When Astur came in again, it was clear from the murderous expression in her blazing eyes that playtime was well and truly over. Her blows came in fast and vicious, but as Terry worked to dodge them, he began to get a sense of her limits. He was faster than she was, just not by much. He knew with absolute certainty that if she landed a single punch squarely on him — anywhere — he was done.

  He couldn't block, and his attempts to deflect her punches did more damage than he could afford. His shoulders and upper arms were already a mass of bruises as a consequence. It was getting harder and harder to move, and he knew that if he didn't do something dramatic, this fight was over.

  The problem was there wasn't much of anything dramatic he could do. He already knew based on his attempts to lock up her joints that taking her to the ground would just be asking to get pulverized. She out-massed him too; he'd learned that from the throw. He needed leverage and a weak point.

  As he leapt away to get distance, he watched her coming on and noticed that she had her mouth open. Her nose was crushed against her face and enough blood was streaming down to stain her sarashi red, but she seemed able to ignore the pain.

  But her mouth is open. She still has to breathe!

  She closed with him again and he stepped outside her punch and landed a solid low kick to the side of her knee. The joint caved a bit, but didn't break. It was clear she was dense all over. His kick landed with a meaty thunk and she snarled and whirled in, her incoming left fist practically sounding a train whistle as it came barreling toward his body.

  That's it. It's over.

  Then, he got his break.

  Astur missed.

  Her knee apparently wasn't able to take the sudden change in direction and it wobbled, sending her blow wide as she staggered. He pressed what little advantage he had and slammed another low kick to the back of the same knee.

  Her leg again failed to break, but it did collapse. She screeched in rage as he stepped behind her, smoothly slipping his right arm around her throat and locking her head forward with his left.

  Then he hurled himself backward with all his might, lifting both legs up and wrapping them around both her torso and her arms as his back hit the sand.

  He locked his ankles around her middle and arched his back, straining with all his might as he pulled her head into the choke.

  It was his last chance. If she broke out of this, he was done. He had all the leverage. One of her legs was trapped underneath her butt, her arms were locked down by his legs, and he had her in a clean four square. It just didn't get any better than this.

  "Nighty fucking NIGHT, dragon!" he hissed as he heard her gag and shifted his elbow a bit. He didn't know if he could rely on a carotid choke so he targeted her windpipe instead, doing his level best to crush it.

  Pleaaaase pass out, pretty please? CHERRIES ON TOP PLEASE!!?

  He groaned as he hauled back on her with all his might. His back-bowed body kept her from getting enough leverage to straighten out, and her one free leg was kicking the sand and sending up a spray as she flailed. Her tail was pinned between her legs and swept from side to side just as violently, but apparently she didn't have enough control or the presence of mind to use it to flip over.

  Her arms strained against his legs, but though she was clearly much stronger than he was in a direct comparison, Terry's legs were no joke. He had them locked around her elbows, giving her no good leverage. Her efforts to press her arms open only pulled her harder into the iron bar of his arm.

  Seconds passed, and the roaring crowd fell into an almost reverent hush. The only sounds were Astur's desperate gagging sounds as her flailing got progressively weaker.

  At last, the tension left Astur's body and she collapsed.

  Terry didn't let up for another several seconds, doing his level best to make sure she was completely unconscious before he gasped and let her go, laying under her with his legs still wrapped around her torso as his chest heaved.

  Finally he rolled to his feet, straightened, and looked at a gaping Mamma Moo as he raised his hands in disbelief and shouted, "Start the fucking count already!"

  Mamma Moo counted, but it was pro-forma. It was clear Astur wasn't getting up, and if Terry had been inclined, he could have finished her. Once she'd started though, Terry got back down on his knees next to her and pressed his fingers against her throat, searching for a pulse.

  After several seconds, he found one. It was weak, but present. Her breath stirred the hair on his forearm, and he grunted as he shifted her, pulling her into a three-quarters pose with her head back, mouth open, arms and legs crossed to keep her on her side. After a moment's thought, he pulled her tail straight out behind her to further stabilize her.

  'There was no point in that. You should have killed her. This is only a proxy. Her consciousness will have already returned to her primary body. She could have woken at any time once you let her go. Stopping before you were sure she was dead was a foolish risk.'

  He thought about that, then shrugged and said aloud, "I'm not about to change my habits or inclinations because you or anyone else thinks I should have killed someone. I didn't have to kill her to win, and I'm not going to let her die now that it's over. I don't even pretend to understand this proxy bullshit she's got going on. She's got a pulse, she's breathing, she's alive, full stop."

  He got up and turned to face Mamma Moo. She'd finished counting and fallen silent as she — along with the audience no doubt — waited to see what he would do. He knew he should do something, raise his hands, yell ... but the truth was, he hurt too badly. Now that the fight was over and the adrenaline was fad
ing, he realized he probably couldn't lift his arms even if he wanted to. The bruising was bone deep, and both limbs were shivering with reaction. His broken fingers were killing him, one of his eyes was swollen shut, and the cut on his temple from when she'd slapped him at the beginning of the fight throbbed.

  "Ladies an' Gen'lemen." Mamma Moo's voice, though amplified, had a hushed, almost reverent quality to it as she said, "The winner an' new champion o' the pit. Terry, The Boss, Mack."

  As though to punctuate her words, Terry heard the distant, rage-filled roar of a dragon. Given the lack of cheering and surfeit of fearful expressions on the faces all around him, everyone else heard it too.

  Just after that, he heard bells all over the city begin clanging in a cacophony that penetrated the noise in the pit and which caused the folk in the stands to surge for every available exit.

  30

  Deal Breaker

  Terry turned in a slow circle, watching the people filing out of the stands. The mood of the crowd had gone from festive to fearful in the time it took those bells to start ringing, so whatever they meant, it was bad.

  Given they'd started ringing right after everyone in town heard the dragon roar, it didn't take a genius to put the pieces together.

  They think Astur is going to attack the city now that her proxy has been beaten.

  'That seems likely, Master. Your attention is being sought. I suggest you go talk to Cecaelia before she does something dramatic.'

  The Lady of the Waves was waving him over, and though her movement was idle he could tell even from halfway across the arena that her expression wasn't a smile.

  He jogged the distance, supporting his left hand with his right so as not to jostle his broken fingers. He came to a stop about ten feet from the edge of the wall, which was about that high. Their eyes met, and the raven-haired beauty smirked at him as she said, "I must say it was entirely worth it to come out here under this brutal sun and watch your performance, Terrence. I never would have believed you capable of subduing a dragon proxy on your own."

  "Well, you know me, I'm just full of surprises," Terry said, glancing from Cecaelia to Shy, who stood next to the palanquin, and from her to Euryale, who watched him with keen blue eyes while most of her snakes were pointed toward the sound of the dragon's last roar. Laina dropped down out of the stands, landing on the sands with a thump, and trotted past him, patting his shoulder as she said, "I believe in you, Boss. You can do this. I'll see you in a few days."

  Days?

  He glanced behind and saw the minotress pick up Astur's body, then head for the open exit from the arena that led into the keep.

  Most of the people in the nearest stands had already fled through the entrance into the Keep, and the murmur of the crowd grew distant. Sunset was less than an hour away, and the shadows were growing long. A desultory breeze stirred the air, but offered no relief for Terry's aches and pains. The more time passed, the more insistent those pains became. His fingers were by far the worst of it, and they throbbed angrily to the beat of his heart.

  For the moment, he did his best to ignore them.

  Shy looked despondent as she said, "Tee, I need to go. I'm afraid there's ... not much I can do to help you with what's coming. The Lady of the Waves suggested I get myself to safety, so that you don't worry. I love you, Terry Mack. Please be safe."

  He nodded, though he didn't fully understand what was going on he wasn't about to throw out questions he knew he'd be getting the answers to soon anyway. Instead he just said, "See you. Take care."

  Shy nodded at him, then turned and walked away and down the stairs toward the keep.

  He watched her go, glanced at an unmoving Euryale, then turned his full attention back to Cecaelia as he asked, "So you came here to claim the staff and just decided to hang around for this or what?"

  Her well-sculpted eyebrows rose marginally and she leaned up on one hand, her other draped over her hip, one of her tentacles remaining demurely over her modest but perfectly formed breasts as she said, "I'm wounded. In point of fact I was invited to attend several days ago by Viceroy Albrecht Ross."

  "Viceroy?"

  "Well, of course. Who do you think made Volai a Vicereine? There are no monarchies anywhere around here. The leader of Florence leads at my behest. I simply made your choice official. Ross is a bit of a goodie-goodie, but he'll serve the people well while he lasts, and well-served people honor the Powers. I will search for a suitable eldritch to replace him in the meantime."

  Terry shrugged as he said, "Here's where I admit I haven't got a clue what a Viceroy or a Vicereine is. I'll congratulate him later, but why did he ask you to come? Was it really for this?"

  She frowned at him and said in lightly chastising tones, "You really are far too cynical, Terrence. Is it so far-fetched that I would want to come watch my bonded man get beaten and mounted by a dragon in front of a crowd of thousands? You do know that had you lost, she'd have taken her prize right here in the middle of the pit. Surely that would be a spectacle worthy of my time, yes?"

  Terry's voice was flat. "No."

  He tried to fold his arms, felt them all but rebel, and gave up, feeling vaguely foolish.

  The dragon's roar sounded again. It was much closer this time, and coming from ...? He glanced at Euryale, confirming his suspicion, then turned around as he said, "That's not right. She should be coming from the southwest, not the north."

  "Ever the perceptive one," Cecaelia said, then sighed as she added, "We haven't got a lot of time, so let me summarize what has and will happen. First, Asturial lied to you. When she fainted a few days ago, that was not fatigue. It was the result of her link with her body being severed. Second — and I'm sure given the first piece of information you'll have already figured this out — her body is now being controlled by one of Thomas' agents. That agent is coming this way, and will likely attempt to destroy the city so that it can plant a death seed here."

  "How do I stop it?" he asked, turning and looking up at Cecaelia. "What do I have to do? Should I run? Will it chase me instead?"

  "You want to try and stop it?" she asked. "Surely you have seen how large that dragon is. This is not something you can accomplish by strength of arms."

  "Good, cause I'm beat to shit already. What do I do? How can I stop this from happening!?"

  Cecaelia chuckled, a wry sound. One of her tentacles flicked something at him, and he endured the pain it took to reach out and snag the bottle she threw. He didn't waste time with questions, but opened it and quaffed the contents.

  Still love how that tastes like vanilla ... Laina is freakin' amazing.

  As he drank, the Lady of the Waves spoke. "As there was some time to prepare, a sigil has been carved into the cobbles beneath the sand you are standing on. If you wish to make an attempt to save these people, you will have to make something of a spectacle of yourself. Once the zone agent sees you, it should attack you. Death seeds require one of two things to reach the potency required to germinate. Mass murder on the scale of genocide, or the life of a template. Given the agent has a dragon body, a city full of people, and a template present, these are essentially ideal conditions under which to attack. Once you die, the seed can be planted immediately, and it will kill or corrupt everyone else in and around the city. If you stay to attempt this, know that you will be shouldering responsibility for the lives of everyone for miles around."

  "Is there another choice?" he asked.

  Cecaelia shrugged and flicked her wrist as she said, "Flee. The dragon will attack the city, and either raze it to the ground or be slain itself. If slain, disaster will be averted."

  "And the odds of that happening?" Terry asked.

  "Slim," she said. "And it is likely thousands will die even then. Most of the major population centers on Celestine are protected by at least one and usually several very powerful eldritch. There are simply too many otherwise unstoppable forces in this world. Volai protected Florence from both my treacherous wrath and the depredations of the
Twilight Zone for hundreds of years. She was mighty. But the mighty fall, and now, you have a choice to make. Time is short, hero."

  "What do I need to do?" he asked. "I'm not leaving these people to clean up my mess."

  Terry met Cecaelia's dark eyes for a long moment, then she dropped a hand to the space in front of her and flicked the Rod of the Heart at him as she said in idle tones, "Catch."

  He stepped back without the slightest hesitation and let the apparently priceless artifact thump to the sand as he gave Cecaelia an incredulous look and asked, "How stupid do you think I am? I saw what Shy's rod did to her when she picked it up. If you want to kill me so the dragon can't use me, don't waste time with the dramatic set-up, just do it. I get it. BELIEVE me I do. You don't need to trick me."

  Cecaelia's eyebrows made a valiant effort at invading her hairline as she stared at him, then she burst out laughing. Euryale finally moved, glancing from the laughing Power to Terry as she asked, "Master?! She wants to kill you?"

  "No!" Cecaelia cried, still trembling with laughter. "I don't want to kill him! Terrence Mack, I just adore your surprises! While it's true that the Rod won't take kindly to you, I have fair confidence that you have the strength of will to master it. We are short on time, so pick it up! You'll need it for what you must do next."

  With a last, dubious glance at the woman who had as much as told him she was not to be trusted, he reached out and laid his left hand — its fingers no longer broken — on the staff.

  Nothing happened.

  Cecaelia made a show of rolling her eyes and said, "You're wearing wraps, idiot. Touch it with your bare hand."

  He swapped for his right hand, which was still wrapped in the traditional way and had skin showing, and a voice boomed through his mind.

  'MURDERER!'

  Raging heat flooded through his body and he stayed in a crouch. His blood was burning, he was sure his entire body was about to explode into flame as the heat tore through him. All the while the accusation repeated itself in his mind, over and over again.