At the start of the day, there were forty men gathered in the holding area, waiting their turn to play for the life-and-death stakes. Nate and his team stationed themselves against the far wall from the entrance to the court. He preferred a solid wall at his back, even this late in the proceedings. He didn’t trust anyone, and Lolanta’s threats lingered in his mind. Who in here might be willing to kill them at her behest, given the promise of escape from the altars she ruled? Nate didn’t want to risk a knife in the back or a poisoned drink of water for himself or any man on his team.
“Stay loose, don’t think too much,” Nate advised his teammates, telling them to do the opposite of what he was planning to do himself. He’d take the burden of worrying for all of them, since he was the captain.
“Take a look at Kalgitr’s team,” Thom said.
“Where?”
“Over there.” Thom pointed with his chin, and Nate swung around to find himself being glared at by the three men he remembered from the scrimmages, plus a fourth who stood slightly away from his teammates, looking unhappy to be involved.
“Their new guy doesn’t seem to be with the program,” Nate said to his team in a low voice. “That may be our edge. I don’t think he’s an eager volunteer.”
“When we take the field, he’ll want to live as much as any of us.” Atletl’s caution against overconfidence was delivered in a flat tone. “He’ll play hard.”
“Yes, but he isn’t one of them,” Nate said. “He’s a draftee in a high-stakes grudge match. You and Faric played together in your own village, and you’ve been a member of our team since the beginning, so we have an advantage.”
“I miss Haranda,” Thom said suddenly. “Wish we could have saved the poor kid.”
There was silence for a moment.
“All we can do for him now is win this damn thing,” Nate said.
Nate heard cheers from the mouth of the arena and watched a team come swaggering in. One of the men was limping, but all four were elated by their victory and consequent escape for another month from a grisly death dealt by the creatures in the well.
The head trainer shouted for the next two teams to ready themselves.
“Going to be a long day.” Nate sat on the sand, back to the reassuring wall. “Might as well rest while we can.” He shut his eyes and tried sending a questing thought to Bithia. As in the past two weeks, there wasn’t even a hint of communication. Resolutely, he shut away visions of her and made himself visualize play sets and strategies instead. Have to get into the game now, before we hit the sand, or risk falling behind on the first ball while trying to loosen up.
Eventually, there was only Kalgitr’s team and Nate’s left in the holding area. Both sets of players did stretches and simple warmups. There was no conversation exchanged.
Then the head trainer was standing in the middle of the room, waving his coiled whip at them all. “Take the field for your match! Get out there!”
He held Nate back for a moment as the others moved out onto the hot sands. “I bet on you, warrior. My whole savings. Lose and I’ll kill you myself before the priestesses can sharpen their knives.”
Nate jerked his elbow loose and glared, sending the man staggering back a step. “You already took your best shot at me, remember?”
The trainer paled and retreated into the waiting room.
Nate came into the glaring sun a few paces behind the rest. A low murmur rose from the crowd, unlike the raucous cheering usually accompanying the first appearance of a team. He revolved in a slow circle, his gaze sweeping the crowd, which shrank back almost as one, each person seeking to avoid eye contact, to escape being singled out. In the royal box, Lolanta waved insolently. Her husband glared at Nate with open hatred. Only Celixia, who’d been seated beside Lolanta, stood and cheered for them. Nate bowed low to her and then saluted crisply.
Celixia nodded her acknowledgment of his gesture and resumed her seat, fanning herself lazily, as if unconcerned about the possibility of the game going against her goddess.
Now Nate lined up with his three teammates, next to Thom, who glanced at him quizzically. “Okay?”
Punching his friend in the shoulder, he said, “Let’s do it.”
Sarbordon shouted from his royal box above the arena, and the first ball shot from the middle circle. Kalgitr’s team got possession, the two blockers sending Atletl flying. The other team’s shooter drove straight down the field and made the point in one easy motion.
Nate was livid. “All right, dammit, they got one. We can’t give up any more. Faric, you were assigned to blocking him, remember? This is for real, people, not the damn scrimmage!”
Thom caught the next ball by reflex and passed off to Faric, who failed to redeem himself, losing the ball as he worked his way toward the goal. Atletl managed to steal it back as the opposing man was taking the shot, passed it across to Thom, who scored the point off the low five hole, right between the legs of a defender.
As the third ball emerged, Atletl tripped the man who’d tackled him earlier. The ball rolled free on the sand, and a mad pileup ensued, all eight men grabbing and kicking for possession. Nate came up with it and jerked free of the tangle of bodies. He took one step, hampered by an opposing player’s arms locked around his lower legs, as a Kalgitr player made a desperate grab. Falling, Nate passed to Faric, praying the man had gotten over his earlier jitters. Instead, their new recruit fumbled the ball away, and only a lightning dive by Atletl saved the point. He flicked the ball off to bounce against the far wall and into Thom’s sure hands. Thom again made the point.
“Two to one, not bad, but don’t ease up!” Nate shouted above the roar of the crowd. “Thom, Atletl, try to stall them.”
“What the seven hells? What are you going to do?” Thom yelled as Nate raced past him. “You’re going the wrong direction!”
“Changing the damn game plan. Just hold them!” Nate charged Faric. “I think you’re playing for the wrong team, you bastard. What did they offer you?”
The man shrank back until he stumbled against the painted wall of the court. “I play for you, warrior, for the goddess!”
“I don’t think so.”
Trying to sidle away, Faric mumbled, “They offered me life, win or lose.”
As Faric broke away and ran toward the entrance to the holding area, Nate launched himself into the air and landed a knockout blow with his left foot, coming down neatly on the other side of the traitor as Faric slumped to the sand in an unconscious heap.
“Get over here and block, dammit!” Thom’s desperate shout in Basic cut through the noise of the crowd.
Nate spun but was a few yards short of the action when the other team made their second point, going right through the overmatched Thom and Atletl.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Thom said in between breaths as he sprinted to the other end of the court, where the final, fatal ball flew out of a red-painted circle. “You cold-cocked our teammate?”
“He was a ringer. We’re safer without the chance of him interfering. Now play!”
Outnumbered by one man, Nate and his team managed to get possession of the ball and move it upfield, passing and feinting. Nate directed his troops on the run. “Atletl, take it! We’ll guard! Thom, anything goes. Gotta get this point!”
Atletl caught the pass out of sheer reflexive terror and ran toward the required spot to shoot for the designated circle. Thom and Nate made a stand to buy him time and keep the opposing players from outflanking them to tackle their smaller teammate. A disbelieving outcry from the crowd rose to the skies as Atletl slammed the ball in for the third and final score.
“All right!” Nate gathered his two teammates in a tight circle, slapping each man’s palms in victory.
The black-robed priestesses came onto the sand to loop the losing team in the chains of death. Nate wheeled to stare at Sarbordon and an obviously enraged Lolanta. Celixia beamed.
“Your gods lost, admit it,” he said, the taunt ringing out
loud and clear as the crowd fell silent. “Our Lady T’naritza showed her power over Huitlani today. Now set us free.”
The ruler glared at him. “Not so simple and easy, warrior. I admit you won the game. I keep my word—you’ll live. But your goddess has something I want, and you’re going to help me get it.”
“What do you suppose he means?” Thom asked as the king left his box in the stands above them.
“I imagine we’re going to find out soon,” Nate told him. “Here come the guards. I bet we’re going into the maze again, to her.”
Thom shot him a speculative glance. “Which is fine with you, of course.”
“I figure our best chance is to keep playing out this ‘warriors of the goddess’ act. We might get a break, an opportunity to escape. Remember she indicated she might have a plan.”
“I’m with you,” Thom said. “What about Atletl?”
“He comes with us,” Nate said, both to Thom and to the guards surrounding them on the sand. “He’s in the service of the goddess.”
“True. She appeared to me, I serve her, she protects me,” Atletl said grandly.
Murrax furrowed his brow for a moment, but apparently his orders were to get them into the palace to meet the impatient man in charge as quickly as possible, so he motioned for the three of them to follow him off the playing field.
“And this man?” The head trainer knelt by the unconscious Faric.
“He’s a traitor. I don’t care what you do with him,” Nate said.
The rest of the guards fell into step with him, blocking any thought of escape for the moment. Escorted by the soldiers, he proceeded through the now deserted holding area and ascended the stairs leading into the palace.
CHAPTER FIVE
Nate observed Sarbordon and a pair of the black-robed priestesses waiting at the end of the corridor. There was no sign of Lolanta, whose absence made Nate glad. Celixia came out from behind the other two priestesses as the men walked up.
“Doesn’t he have to preside over the hideous public ceremony in the square? At the well?” Thom said.
Nate shrugged. “Maybe Lolanta’s handling the duties for both of them. I’d rather she was there than here. She’s one scary lady.”
He came to where the king waited, tapping one foot impatiently. The squad surrounding the team halted, Murrax and the guards saluting their ruler. Nate stood loosely, ready for action, secure in the knowledge that Thom had his six. Now that they’d won the sapiche game, he believed the balance of power had subtly shifted even further in his favor than it had after his miraculous recovery from the whipping. The team might still be prisoners, but their enemies were forced by their own belief system to view Nate and his men as backed by a higher power, making Nate a person to be seriously reckoned with.
Although he was concentrating on the king, Nate’s peripheral vision was excellent. He was aware that the priestesses were examining him nervously, whispering behind their black feather fans. Their unhappy agitation at his state of health gave him satisfaction.
Celixia took a step away from the two Huitlani priestesses. She bowed her head to Nate. “Congratulations on your victory, warrior. The match was thrilling to watch.”
“We go to see your goddess now,” the ruler said. “She’ll give me what I want today. You’ll tell her to comply.”
Raising a hand in warning, Nate shook his head. “I serve her. I don’t command her.”
“She promised that if you won the sapiche game, she’d request you to do my bidding. You’ll tell her that you won, against all odds, I must say, including the deluded fellow on your own team. Where can he have gotten the idea that if your team was defeated due to subversive action on his part, he could avoid the altar?” Sarbordon’s voice was lazy and richly ironic. One of the black-clad priestesses choked off a laugh and hid her face behind her fan.
“I wonder.” Nate kept his tone equally dry. He and the ruler understood each other.
Eyeing him, Sarbordon evidently decided to let the subject drop. “Your win was decided among the respective gods we worship, and as a corollary to the unprecedented event, it’s ordained that I am to have the sacred objects I’ve coveted for these many years. Come with me and let us set the events in motion without further delay.”
The king strode down the long hall. Nate exchanged glances with Thom as he followed. Celixia fell in behind them, walking with Atletl. “This doesn’t sound too good,” Nate said to Thom. “What would she promise him we’d do? She never told me any details.”
“At least you know she’s alive,” Thom said.
“Why she’d promise this bastard anything is beyond me.”
Nate and his companions went through the long series of corridors, moving deeper beneath the palace, approaching the mysterious chamber where Bithia had lain imprisoned for millennia. Nate was determined to seize at least a quick word alone with Bithia before their enemy launched into his demands. As the group approached the white carved wall, Nate shoved past the two Huitlani priestesses, who recoiled at his touch. Grabbing Sarbordon’s wrist, Nate prevented the ruler from activating the first symbol.
“I must speak with T’naritza privately first.”
Eyes wide in shock, the ruler appeared ready to refuse.
Ignoring the guards, retaining his hold on the man’s fleshy arm, Nate stared him down. “The goddess and I have matters to speak of which are not for the ears of others, not Celixia, not even yourself. Our discussion won’t take long, but only when we’ve settled matters between ourselves can we give our attention to your demand.”
The king sputtered, but Nate wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise.
“For weeks you haven’t given me a chance to report her father’s commands to her. The words of the gods aren’t meant for others to hear.” Might as well go for broke and embellish the hell out of this lie. “I’m but the vessel for her father Fr’taray’s words. Anyone other than the lady herself hearing the private message will suffer instant, horrible death.”
“And why would I believe ths is true?” The tone of the question was sharp, suspicious.
Nate kept a straight face and nodded with all the sincerity he could manage. “You’ve seen one example of my lady’s powers when she reached forth to heal my wounds. Her father has a thousand times the powers she possesses. Don’t tempt fate by overreaching in the moment.”
The ruler swallowed hard, then again. He checked with Celixia for confirmation. Nate held his breath until the slender priestess nodded her concurrence with his demand for a private moment.
Sarbordon shook him off. “All right, but be quick.” He waved one meaty finger in Nate’s face. “No tricks, I warn you, or you and she will suffer, this I swear. We’ll open this door, and you and Celixia may cross alone. She can sing the last barrier open for you. I’ll allow the space of a few moments for this private communication you insist you must have.”
“My sergeant stays here with you as hostage to my honor,” Nate said, which appeared to mollify the king. Thom probably wasn’t as happy about it, but made no comment.
Nate nodded to the priestesses. “Begin.”
The women chanted as required, standing well back from the wall. As before, the ruler did his part, pressing all the required symbols but the final one, which he indicated Nate should do. Using his fists, he depressed the central symbol, and in a heartbeat he and Celixia were standing alone inside the next alcove, the fat green snakes of pure light crawling harmlessly over their bodies. Nate felt refreshed and restored, much as the lights had cured his headache the first time he’d been here. As he and Celixia emerged from their short walk through the sloping, darkened final corridor, he glanced at his scarred wrists. The effect of the healing green light was further dimming the raw, red marks left from the day of his beating.
Celixia shyly touched his left wrist. “You’ll bear the scars, warrior, but as badges of honor.”
“Badges I could have done without earning. Will you open this final door and
let me have a few moments alone with her?” Nate nodded at the massive, translucent black slab barring their way.
She studied his face intently for a moment. “Sarbordon won’t be patient for long, I warn you.” Celixia chanted the three-word vocal key to the chamber, retreating as she did so.
Nate turned away from watching her to find the black door had already responded to her command by silently vanishing from view. He stepped across the threshold into the chamber where Bithia lay.
Strange to be walking where he’d been in dreams so many times over the past several arduous weeks. Nate descended the three stairs as he always did in the dreamspace and walked toward the silvery couch, the lights rising as he approached. Spreading his hand wide, he flattened his palm against the invisible barrier, staring at her.
“I’m here.”
I know. She kept her eyes shut, but one elegant hand twitched slightly on the couch. Meeting you again is a joy.
“Thank you for saving my life the other night.” Tongue-tied as he never was in their shared dreamspace, Nate berated himself for the inadequacy of his words considering she’d pulled him from the brink of death.
I had to save you—you’ve become dear to me, the only true friend I’ve known in all my time of imprisonment on this planet. I couldn’t let you die without trying to prevent it. Of the two of us, I’m the one long past their time, the one who must die.
“Don’t say that. We’ll figure something out, I promise.” Nate looked closely at her, realizing she was even more gaunt and drawn than when he’d first seen her. “Are you all right?”
I told you the device is not running properly.
Nate realized she’d mentioned that several times in the dreams, but he hadn’t considered the ramifications, much less the potential physical effects on her.
I had to push the absolute limits of what’s possible to come to you that night. But the sacrifice was worth it.
Trapped On Talonque: (A Sectors SF romance) Page 10
