Shiva beat me to it. “Then let’s make this interesting, Father. If the two of you are unable to remove the troll, you’ll be leaving your Mau with us. New blood for the pack.”
Oh no, I was putting a stop to this now. “Not a damn chance,” I said.
“Fine.”
I spun on Artemis. He was making this worse; I had been planning to agree. What the hell was he goading her for? “What the hell do you think—”
I didn’t get a chance to give him—or Shiva—a piece of my mind.
“We are in agreement,” Shiva said. She whistled, and Normandy stepped out of the shadows and opened the cell.
They didn’t grab Artemis, though, they grabbed me. “What? No! I don’t do the fighting!”
“You said you would do anything to save your boyfriend, yes?” Shiva asked.
“And if we don’t?” Artemis asked.
Shiva narrowed her dark eyes. “Then I really have no choice. If you refuse to fight him in the arena, I drop you right back in with the mermaids, only this time it will be both of you.”
“It won’t get you power,” Artemis said.
Shiva’s eyes clouded over. “No, but I’ll take the semblance of power, if only for a little while longer.”
Normandy dragged me out of the cell. I shook him off. I would walk. At the curious looks Shiva and Normandy gave me, I said, “I figure out a way to defeat your troll, and you help me?”
“I give you my word.” Shiva lowered her eyes and regarded me. “And have no doubt about it: I can’t fix the Electric Samurai, but, if persuaded, I can help you stop him. And stopping supernaturals is nine-tenths of the way to defeating them.”
I swallowed. Rocks and hard places . . . “I suppose you’d better introduce me to this troll.”
I spotted two pillars, worn down and degraded in the dirt on either side of the hall. Sunlight bit through the foliage, and though vines had overgrown the entrance, chipping away at and obscuring the writing and symbols, I could still make out what I was being led towards: an outdoor arena.
“Down there they await,” Normandy said.
Through the stone pillar gate I could see a large, gray-tinged man. From this distance he looked normal sized. He was not.
Jesus Christ, what the hell had I been thinking agreeing to this? Combat with a half troll? Trolls didn’t move; that’s why they were trolls. Full-blooded trolls didn’t budge from their bridges, and there was no reason to think a half troll would be any more inclined to move from whatever spot it had chosen. Second, and more important, I didn’t fight!
“You know, I often threaten to sell people a bridge,” I said, and pushed a strand of hair damp from the humidity and heat out of my face. “This just made things, I don’t know, surreal? Or maybe meta is the word I’m looking for.” Normandy’s large mouth turned down at the corners, confusion on his face. If Carpe had been around, he’d have gotten it.
We reached the tennis court–sized arena outside. It was not so much in the Greek or Roman style but a modified version adapted to the uneven terrain. The high stone bleachers were overgrown with vines, reclaimed by the jungle, but today the vines had been trampled, filled by Tiger Thieves. In the sunlight I had a better look at the Tiger Thieves and the various ways they deviated from human. I also got a much better look at the half troll.
Shiva hadn’t overstated his height—he was easily ten feet tall, and as if his height weren’t enough to make him stand out in a crowd, there was also his grayish skin, much like the hide of his namesake elephant. His face was also more troll-like than human, his eyes smaller and partially hidden by ridges of gray skin and bone on his forehead, made even more apparent by his bald head. His nose was bulbous and trunklike, covering much of his mouth. His hands were massive clubs of thickened skin, good for pounding things into a pulp. And then there were his feet; rather than human-looking feet and toes, his massive legs ended in elephantlike feet, all the better for pounding you with, my dear.
He saw me watching him and smiled, then stamped his feet in a slow tempo. The ground shook.
Oh boy . . .
Artemis glanced at me. They’d given us back some of our supplies but no weapons to speak of. Either of us. “I don’t suppose you can fashion a weapon out of thin air?”
Beside me, Artemis was a mess, from the tips of his unwashed highlighted hair to his dusty designer boots. He shook his head. “No.”
“Fantastic.” Just remember, Owl, I told myself, every minute you wait is another minute that the armor sinks its tainted claws into Rynn. Another minute it had to wipe out whatever was left of him in there. Another minute it could make him kill, maim, and enslave both people and supernaturals at his whim.
“Any suggestions?”
Artemis shrugged. “Don’t let him hit you. And whatever you do, stay away from his feet?”
I could have told him that . . . “You know, this would be a really good time for you to make us disappear— Shit!” I swore as Normandy shoved me past the stone gate. I stumbled into the arena.
Shiva, who was sitting in a stone throne above the nosebleed bleachers, stood, and the crowd noise lowered to a murmur as all eyes fixed on me, including the troll’s. Shiva looked at me. “Let the combat begin.”
The crowd cheered, and the half troll grinned at me, showing block-sized teeth as he drove his fist into the ground.
Oh hell, what had I gotten myself into? Saving Rynn was one thing, but I couldn’t do it if I was smooshed on an arena floor. Nuts to this. I turned back to find a portcullis lowered and Artemis decidedly on the other side.
I grabbed the gate.
“Get in there and fight! Shiva must have something up her sleeve, or she wouldn’t have arranged this spectacle. She wants to remove a rival, not send a goat to slaughter,” he whispered.
I rattled the gate—no use, it didn’t budge. The crowd was laughing now as the troll roared. “Move! You’re making us look bad.”
“I’m not entirely convinced that her goal isn’t to feed me to the half troll!”
“Well, it’d be more guile than she’s ever shown before. A parent can only hope.”
“You’re an awful parent.”
“I’m well aware of that—now move!”
I glanced over my shoulder. The troll was running towards me with a wide, galloping gait. Shit. I let go of the gate and dived out of the way. Artemis dodged just in time as the troll’s clubbed fist came down. Its fist crunched into the metal, rendering and twisting the bars out of shape.
I did the only smart thing I could: I ran until I reached the other end of the arena.
Maybe I’d get lucky and the half troll would be clumsy . . .
My hopes were crushed as I watched him pivot and with a roar chase after me. Despite his massive feet, he moved with the grace and agility of an athlete, swinging his fists as though he were wielding mallets.
I was fucked.
“Hey, don’t I get a weapon?” I shouted at Shiva.
“That wasn’t in the agreement,” she called down. It was followed by a snicker from the peanut gallery.
I swore as the half troll moved on me. I dodged his fists once again and then dived as he tried to step on me. I knew better than anyone watching that I couldn’t keep this up forever.
We made a fast lap of the small arena until I was once again at the gate. Maybe the lock had been broken . . . I gripped the gate and tried to pull it open while the Tiger Thieves guarding the door looked on incredulously. I’m certain I looked ridiculous. I didn’t care. Laughter rose from the crowd and Normandy tried to detach me, pushing me back with the rounded end of a spear. With a none-too-gentle push he dislodged me and sent me stumbling into the arena once again—into the chest of the half troll.
I’d like to say I dodged, that I made a noble attempt to stay on my feet. Instead, I crashed into his gray, hidelike chest like a campus drunk reeling face-first into the ground after a run-in with a wayward beer bong. I hit him so hard I knocked the wind out of myself.
His mawlike hand gripped the back of my jacket as he laughed, low and rumbling, and I got a good look into his flat, gray eyes, laughing at me. Then he threw me. My back hit the stone wall of the arena before my ass hit the ground. Oh, that was going to hurt later on.
“I expected more from the great Owl. At least for some nimbleness on your feet,” Shiva called down to a course of snickers.
Come on, Owl, get up. “Open the gate and call the show off, then,” I called up to her as I used the wall to get myself back to standing. Okay, my head was wobbly, but nothing was broken—yet.
“Seriously, Shiva, you need to stop this. I’m not a fighter.”
“You’d better learn quickly, then. Gajaanan has not had a good fight in many months. His last opponent let his head be crushed in the first minute. Very disappointing,” she called back.
I was starting to think that the plan really was just to get me killed to spite Artemis. There were more snickers as I turned and ran right around the arena, Gajaanan roaring and the ground shaking as he chased after me. I needed time to think. Supernatural monsters, half or otherwise, were not my forte; they had always been Nadya’s domain.
“At least give me a last phone call!” I pleaded.
I winced as I saw the half troll raise his fist above me and closed my eyes. Nothing happened. I opened them again. Shiva was holding up her hand, the troll’s fist inches from my face. “I agree to your phone call,” Shiva said. “You may tell your loved ones you are about to die. See? I am not so cruel.” She whistled and made a gesture before one of her hangers-on handed her my phone. With a flick of her delicate wrist, she threw it down to me.
I dialed Nadya as the crowd watched me. Come on, pick up, pick up . . .
“Owl?”
“Hey, Nadya! Look, I’m in a bit of trouble.” I turned away from Gajaanan. “Know anything about stopping trolls?”
There wasn’t the slightest pause. “Don’t try. Owl, just what have you gotten yourself into?”
“You really don’t want to know. The good news is that I found the Tiger Thieves. The bad news is that Artemis kind of threw me under the bus, though oddly enough it wasn’t intentional.” I shook my head. Off topic . . . “The point is that they’re willing to bargain. I just have to kill a troll—well, a half troll.”
There was a lot of swearing in Russian on the other end.
“The only weakness I know of is that they are supposed to have trouble following more than one moving target, though usually it’s not a problem as they kill you with the first blow.”
“So what the hell does that mean?”
“It means run! And Alix—” I frowned as static garbled the line. Shit. “Nadya? Nadya?” I smacked the phone against my leg. Nothing—fucking fantastic. “Hey!” I shouted as the half troll snatched my phone. “That’s mine!”
“Time’s up,” Shiva called down. I heard the crunch as the half troll crushed my phone. I ducked out of the way as he threw the remnants at my head.
Then there was only the massive half troll looming over me, grinning with his blocky, graying teeth, his nose reminiscent of a small elephant trunk; to be honest, it reminded me more of an elephant seal’s trunk. Oh shit—
I dodged as the half troll struck again. Okay, it would be hard for him to track more than one target, but where the hell would I get another one? Shame Shiva couldn’t have thrown Artemis in here along with me.
I heard a crack as something hard hit the ground, and then I flew forward. I skidded and ate sand. The half troll was in a crouch behind me as if having landed, and I was on my ass on the ground—again. He recovered faster from the leap this time and in seconds was stalking me. His right mallet of a fist struck the ground in front of me. I managed to slide my legs open just in time to save my kneecaps, then rolled out of the way as he followed with his left fist, then tried to stomp on me with his right foot. I used the lull between the strikes that it took him to regain balance and ran.
Right mallet fist, left mallet fist . . . right foot.
Jesus Christ, how had I not seen that before? Just like the many video game bosses I’d done battle with over the years, he had a pattern—an obvious one.
Right, left, right foot . . .
World Quest couldn’t have designed a more picture-perfect, predictable bad guy if it had tried.
What I needed now was something to exploit it with.
I bolted for two guards standing near the edge of the arena’s bleachers. “Gimme that!” I demanded, and wrenched the nearest guard’s spear away from him. Whether he was surprised or simply wanted to see what I’d do with it, he let it go.
Not having time to rethink my course of action, I turned and planted my feet in the sand. The half troll stomped the ground with his left fist, then the right fist, then charged.
I turned the spear handle, my hands clammy against the wood. God, I hoped this would work like it did in video games . . .
Gajaanan struck—right swing, left swing—shit, left foot! I stumbled back, avoiding the foot as it struck where my feet had been a moment before. I fell back on my ass, but not before I raised the spear and jabbed it at the open spot. And I hit him—I actually hit him, uncoordinated, unathletic Alix . . .
The spear tip bounced off the half troll’s hide. I stared at the ineffectual tip, the unmarked gray skin, then up at the half troll’s face. He laughed, a rumbling, inhuman sound.
Then he batted the spear aside and wound up his fist to the Tiger Thieves’ jeers.
I readied to dodge once again, but the troll wasn’t aiming to beat my head into a pulp. As I dodged, his left arm caught me and pushed me into the wall.
I was pinned like a bug on a board.
“I don’t suppose we could talk this through? Come to an arrangement where I don’t die?” I managed to gasp out, struggling against the immovable arm.
He laughed, as did nearby Tiger Thieves—and then he squeezed.
I gasped as the air in my chest was compressed out. I tried to inhale, but my lungs couldn’t expand. I couldn’t breathe. I pounded my fists against the half troll’s stony hide while my vision faded, my lungs screaming for oxygen I couldn’t draw in. Through the panic overtaking me I was vaguely aware of the crowd’s increasingly loud cheers and jeers.
Gajaanan wound back his other fist.
I closed my eyes and hoped to hell dying didn’t hurt.
But the fist didn’t come down on my face, and the tone of the crowd changed from anticipation to surprise, and confusion.
I opened my eyes. Gajaanan still had me pinned like a butterfly, but he wasn’t looking at me anymore; he was staring over his shoulder at something beyond the bleachers—so was everyone else, for that matter. But what it was, I hadn’t the faintest idea, as the blood roaring in my head drowned out all other sound.
Whatever it was that had the Tiger Thieves’ attention, the half troll’s grip loosened. I gasped, sucking in sweet oxygen. The blood started circulating in my head again, and it was then I picked up what had the Tiger Thieves’ and half troll’s attention.
A chirp—then another chirp and another. I spotted the cream-and-coffee–colored coat skimming the top of the bleachers, nimbly navigating the stone wall, and then I picked out the other coats—a mix of gray to brown spotted fur, a mass of them, making their way through the Tiger Thieves.
Captain was in the lead, and when he lighted on the stone above me Gajaanan let go and took a step back.
The rest of the Maus took up residence around the perimeter of the arena, chirping to one another and letting out the odd hiss when someone tried to stand up.
Shiva stood up to a chorus of hissing, her face twisted in fury. “Get that Mau out of the arena!”
Despite my predicament I snorted as I rubbed my chest, trying to return the circulation. “You get my Mau out of the fight!” Half of me was curious just how far she’d get.
I wondered how Captain had gotten all the other damn cats to follow his lead; they’d struck me as pre
tty docile where the Tiger Thieves were concerned. He did look the worse for wear; he had a few more scratches and welts than had been there before . . . I watched as one of the other Maus, a large tomcat, came up to Captain and mewed. Captain whirled on the cat and batted him in the face, sending him scurrying back.
Oh, dear God, my cat had taken over the Tiger Thieves’ Maus and somehow beaten them into submission. I did not think that boded well for the future of the obedience Shiva had bragged about.
“Fight!” someone in the crowd screamed.
Captain ignored Shiva and the crowd and leapt in front of me, hissing at the half troll. Gajaanan didn’t seem to know what to do with himself or the angry Mau with the nontraditional coloring hissing and growling at his massive feet. I had to hand it to superstition—he didn’t even lift his feet in warning.
That’s how we found ourselves at a very strange standstill. It’s got to suck when your pseudoreligious icons don’t play ball with your plans.
“She’s making a mockery of our ways!” someone shouted, though I didn’t catch who. There was a murmur of agreement.
I lifted my hands as angry faces turned their attention back to me. “Whoa! Hey, I did not go and break your damned cats!”
“You are a harbinger of destruction!” came one voice, followed by “You are bad luck!”
The cats began to growl and turn on the crowd, Captain leading the mutiny.
Oh, for Christ— How the hell was I supposed to make this not a disaster?
While the cats growled and hissed and the Tiger Thieves tried to figure out why their sacred animals weren’t sticking with the program, I looked around for something—a weapon, a sign, anything that I could use to stop a fight.
A glint caught my attention, but whether it was the glint of metal or a trick of magic that caught my attention, I’d never know. Regardless of what drew me to it, the fact didn’t change that it was Rynn’s reflection I saw, staring right at me, smiling while everyone else around argued about how best to kill me without angering the Maus.
Owl and the Tiger Thieves Page 34
