More assailants surrounded him. He backed up, but paused to pry up one of the flagstones. He hurled it at the closest man. The spry man dodged it but the rock struck the knife wielder behind him in the leg. There was a sharp snap of bone. His howls punctuated the night.
The spectators above cheered.
But another attacker charged. This one carried a metal pole with a pointed end that looked to have been recovered from one of the planter boxes. The sharp tip slashed across Hellard’s side. The man sprang back before Hellard could grab him only to thrust at him again.
Hellard once again snatched up his two wooden swords. The other theater patrons were content to let the fellow with the metal pole take center stage. Hellard swung at a nearby man as he retreated towards the path between the ferns.
“Get him,” the recovered archer hissed. But she had no more arrows.
The man with the sharp pole followed, stabbing with his weapon as if trying to taunt Hellard into making a mistake.
Hellard stepped over a spiked plate. He swung his swords and knocked fern fronds everywhere. His assailant remained cautious and, without even looking down, also avoided the spikes.
The man had his hair back in a short ponytail. Scars ran the length of one arm and across one cheek. He had a tattoo displayed on the opposite forearm, but Hellard didn’t take the time to identify it. His face was lean and his eyes hungry and cruel. This rogue was no amateur fighter. Fel weren’t the only ones eager for coin.
Another thrust of the pole. Hellard parried with both his swords.
A second attack almost caught Hellard in the thigh as fern fronds kept pushing at his face.
The rest of the armed theatergoers were following the rogue. From above the spectator on the ropes was pumping his fist wildly and cheering hysterically.
Hellard’s side stung where the makeshift spear had slashed him. Warm blood oozed down to his waist.
The rogue played the tip of the stake in front of Hellard’s face, baiting him. “He’s bleeding. Close in!”
Someone was coming up behind him.
Hellard pivoted in time to smash a sword into the face of a clumsy attacker. But the rogue didn’t hesitate. He thrust forward, catching Hellard in the arm. Hellard spun again, ignoring the pain as the pole’s tip tore at his flesh. The weapon ripped free from the rogue’s hand and fell away. Hellard kept moving, dropping his swords and springing at the man. With his good hand he clamped down on the rogue’s head.
They stumbled back, the rogue fighting to free a blade tucked under his belt. Hellard used his size and momentum to keep both of them shuffling and then falling, landing on the spike plate with a jarring thunk.
The tips of the spikes that jutted through the rogue were sharp. A few had missed Hellard’s cheek, jaw, and eyes by a fraction of an inch. Hellard pushed himself up. He had to keep his injured arm pressed against his side. His forearms were bleeding from several shallow wounds from the spike plate. The rogue lay gasping as he expired.
Hellard recovered the sharp metal stake and faced the closest group of masked men. He thumbed sweat from his brow and grinned.
“So is it to be one at a time or the whole lot of you?”
No one moved. When Hellard stomped a foot down in their direction, they backed away. He spun to glare at the ones opposite him and they too were fleeing, some throwing down their knives.
Hellard ignored the pain spreading up his side and from his arm as he limped out to the stone circle. The closest theatergoers were filing away through an arch of potted palm trees, leaving him alone.
Applause rose from beyond the rope wall. Stagehands moved a row of plants aside and part of the wall opened like a curtain.
The mock queen was clapping as she, Red Eye, and a few guards approached him.
She was all smiles. “The round is over. The game is won!”
Hellard kept his hands fixed on the metal spike and trained it on the incoming group. “Let me out of here.”
“All in good time. First, your rewards. Then we tend to your wounds.”
“You tricked me. Tricked us. The others...?”
“Safe. Sound. You were the only one who was still standing, so you alone were placed into our finale. Don’t worry about them. They’ll receive money for their troubles, which will serve as a balm for their aching skulls. Now please, let us see to your wounds.”
He looked around to see who else was close. It was hard to tell with the claustrophobic plants everywhere, but he could only guess the crossbow-wielding guards were out there somewhere.
Red Eye tipped his hat back as he admired Hellard. “Looks like betting on an ogre results in a not entirely unexpected upset. You get a cut, you know. A pretty nice slice, all things considered.”
“How much?”
“Straight to the point. I like that. Besides the purse from the preliminaries, I make it out to be another thirty tencoin. Not a bad haul, eh?”
“For my life?”
“Don’t act all hurt. You came here willingly knowing you’d be fighting. It was all in print. And that’s no scrip I’m paying you but coins you can sink your teeth into. Sure, there’s risk, but this was only a preview of what we might accomplish in our humble theater. When word gets out we have another set of games besides the queen’s, we’ll fill the house. Think of the ticket sales we could do. No waiting for weeks or months while she refits her dungeon. And we’re open to the public, not just the hoity-toity crowd. Now imagine, my ginormous friend, if we can fit you onto a playbill. Ensure your purse, win or lose. Have you fighting next week and we all make a tidy bundle.”
A few of the stagehands were trying to peel the fallen rogue off the spike plate.
Hellard watched them for a moment. “No, thanks. You said you wanted monsters but you never said anything about a fight to the death.”
Red Eye waved the comment off. “Tosh. This was fixed in your favor, believe it or not. We sold our theater tickets at the bar next door to a bunch of prelubricated deadbeats. Those knives were dull as a stick of soap. Besides, it looks like you only had trouble with one of them.”
The mock queen had a frilly handkerchief out and she moved to dab at Hellard’s cheek. He batted her away.
Hellard was done with his nice ogre routine. “You have coins for me? Hand them over. And then show me the way out of this place or so help me I’m going to ram this pole so far up your backside you’ll taste the rust.”
The mock queen made a show of disgust.
Red Eye shrugged. “A cooling-down period, then. You know where we are. Maybe when the coins I give you get spent, you’ll see what we can do here together. But think about it. Seriously. You want armor? I’ll get you some. Make you a few ogre-sized weapons? Hire a few friends to really even the odds? You don’t know any other ogres, do you?”
“This isn’t a negotiation.”
“Fair enough. Right this way. Queen Claudia, this brave soul is cashing out. Let’s see him paid.”
He was escorted beneath the rope barrier and towards a building adjacent to the theater. The spectators were gathered in front of a set of bleachers where the girls with the headdresses were serving drinks. The men with the clipboards appeared to be settling bets and money was being exchanged.
The buzz fell into a hush as he was appraised with admiring eyes.
“Lots of action there,” Red Eye crooned. “Fame. A bit of notoriety for you now. It’s something you could build on. Might even cultivate a fan or two, myself included. Think of what that fel who won the queen’s games managed to do.”
Hellard stopped walking. “What did he do?”
“Surely you’ve heard the scuttlebutt. He’s accumulated a lot of admirers, and not all of them fel.”
Hellard was too tired to laugh.
The thought of Digger somehow enjoying the attention from winning was something he’d revisit once he got this night behind him. He then started to think about the coin he was about to receive. The preliminary purse, plus his share of the bets, along with the
pennies...he’d have to count it all to be sure but it was more wealth than he’d imagined ever owning. Now he might not only rent a place with a cellar but buy one. Maybe two. He could afford a place big enough to really start something in the city. Or what about a boat on the harbor? Some of the barges he had seen were as large as a warehouse and might be perfect for a pair of trolls. The possibilities were endless.
He was escorted inside into a dark, plain room and a cage door slammed shut behind him.
“Hey!”
He grabbed the door and shook it but it was locked. He reached through metal bars and tried to grab Red Eye but the gangster had moved out of reach and was standing outside.
“Shame, really,” Red Eye said. “The things we could have done working together. But this suits me just fine. Hate to pay a stake when it’s not needed. Hate even more to see talent like you walk away from what will become obvious to you—the start of something special between us.”
Chapter Thirteen
TOURISTS LINGERED AT both ends of the alley leading to the back of the Dragon and Rose.
Digger felt horribly exposed as he wheeled the cart with the body along the empty street to the front of the bar. The entrance remained nailed shut. He pressed an ear to the door and heard the buzz of the crowd.
He had lost track of time. Was it second watch or third? Somewhere between, he guessed, so there remained a few hours before dawn. The bar’s new fans were staying later and later.
Voices echoed from down the streets. Too boisterous to be city guards. But they were coming his way. Shadows moved in his direction, backlit by a streetlamp that hadn’t burned through its oil.
He brought the cart to the bakery lot, where he lifted it up onto the raised foundation and pushed it into the dark. He watched a pack of laughing tourists pass him by as they went to the front door. They banged on it for a while before loudly deciding to go around back.
“What are you doing?” Isabel asked.
He spun and was surprised to see her there wrapped in a cloak and holding a large basket. He smelled food. Garlic. Eggs. Meat. His stomach rumbled.
“Hiding from them.”
“I can see that. Bring your work home with you?”
He looked at the cart and tried to block her view but she stepped around him. Even in the gloom there’d be no hiding what he was carrying. But besides her jaw tightening, she showed little reaction.
“I need to take this down to the trolls,” he said.
“There’s still customers here.”
“Yeah, I heard. Your place has a door which leads to the cellar.”
“Out of the question. You’ll have to wait.”
“Why?” he asked. “What have you got down there? Who’s that food for?”
“It’s not your concern.”
“It is. I’ve got my brother hiding next door and whatever you’re doing could bring trouble our way.”
She let out a laugh. “He’s hardly hiding. And you’re going to get upset with me while you bring a dead man over to my place? And it’s not like you’re around much. I spent part of the evening in the kitchen watching Monty, not that you’d notice while you’re doing who knows what.”
“Not so loud. I was working.”
“If this is work, you wouldn’t need trolls to take care of it.”
He uncovered the dead man.
Isabel leaned closer. “Who is he?”
“This is the fourth murder in two nights. This one was dumped in my cart right in the back alleyway a few hours ago. Someone’s playing games with me. Did you see anything?”
“You know I’d tell you.”
“Like you said, I haven’t been around. Were there any strange tourists inside the bar? Anyone who was alone and not part of a group?”
“They’re all strange. It’s like the bunch of them are so hopped up on living whatever dream Loom Island is selling, they’ve forgotten who they are. This catacomb nonsense has spread to some of the other bars and businesses on the waterfront. But no, no one that stood out.”
“What about any fel?”
She shook her head. “Hard to tell at night. It’s been all purebloods in the bar, from what I saw. What are you thinking?”
“I’m trying to figure this out. The bodies were all killed a certain way except for this one. He had his finger cut off perhaps to get at a ring. Somehow I’m involved, but it doesn’t add up.” He covered the body again. “The sheriff is looking for me and maybe whoever this is here. Right now the trolls are the best bet. So—your basement?”
“No. You can’t go down there. We’ll have to wait for the Dragon to close. Give me a minute and I can hurry them up.”
She took her basket and went to the cellar doors, where she unlocked a padlock and vanished down the steps. A moment later she returned empty-handed.
“I’ll tell Monty he needs to shut it down,” she said. “But it occurs to me you still might not want to go into the cellar tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Hellard’s not around. Neither is the girl who takes care of the trolls.”
“You’re telling me the trolls have been unattended this whole time?”
“He said he was getting them a barrel of fish. Didn’t see him come back though.”
“Great. How long before those creatures break out of there in search of their next meal?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. They’ve been quiet all night.”
He had more questions but she raised a finger. Lights were coming their direction. A new group of pedestrians approached. They were quiet but for their bootsteps and carrying a few lanterns. Not tourists. The city watch. They stopped at the front of the Dragon and Rose. They lingered for a moment as if deliberating something.
Was this a normal patrol? Or were they looking for him? The Temperance District didn’t see many guards. But with the influx of tourists, that appeared to be changing.
The guards headed past the bakery and cut down the alley. Digger and Isabel stayed quiet. Digger strained his ears for any hint of conversation. A riot of laughter erupted from somewhere in the alley.
“Best you be going home,” one of the guards shouted.
A group of tourists were escorted out onto the street, where they argued with the men of the watch for a minute before shuffling away. One girl kept shouting and offering obscene gestures at the guards.
“Kids today,” Isabel whispered.
“The same kids who were trying to kill us both in the games.”
“It’s not all of them. Just the dumb ones.”
“Your boyfriend Jamie was with them.”
She didn’t comment as they waited. A second group was shooed off by the cops. Then the patrol gathered out front and headed away.
The party inside the bar continued unabated. But before Digger could ask again about access to Isabel’s basement, a deep wail began that reverberated through the ground from somewhere beneath their feet.
Digger looked at Isabel and saw fear in her eyes.
The cry repeated, a long, sorrowful howl, which was joined by a second voice. The music in the bar stopped. As the eerie duet only grew louder, Digger was certain that the sound was carrying throughout the district. The watch would hear the sound, but would they know what it was?
“You need to be careful what you wish for,” Isabel said. “You wanted hungry trolls? Sounds like you’ve got two of them.”
Chapter Fourteen
DIGGER USED HIS SHOVEL to pry the wood from the front door. It popped open enough so he could wedge his fingers in under the board and tear it off. The door flew open and he strode into the Dragon and Rose.
“Everyone out now!”
The musicians and a small crowd of tourists were still inside. Most were clustered around a table playing some kind of dice game. Monty and Sofia were standing near each other near the kitchen door and looking at the trapdoor behind the bar.
Something thumped.
Isabel hurried past them to the table
and pulled a woman to her feet. “Bar’s closing!”
“What’s going on?” the woman asked. “What is that down there?”
“Oh, you know. Monsters need feeding, right? We allow the polite ones to serve our guests.”
Thump.
“You keep monsters in the basement?”
Digger couldn’t tell by her question if she was shocked or curious. Drunk, he decided.
He marched over and helped the others to their feet and began to direct them towards the front exit. “This isn’t a debate. It’s past closing time.”
Sofia cleared her throat. “Their bill.”
Digger plucked a coin purse from one of their hands. “Will this cover it?”
Sofia caught the purse and nodded but she jumped when the floor shook. This time the commotion below only grew as it continued to rattle the bar.
Thump. Thump! THUMP!
Isabel got the rest of the tourists out the door. “Go home. You’ve all had enough to drink. Check back with us tomorrow.”
The tourists were jostling each other and laughing nervously as they spilled out onto the street. But they didn’t seem eager to linger as the thumping gave way to more crooning.
“Where’s that ogre?” Sofia asked over the noise.
Digger examined the trapdoor. “We were hoping you knew.”
While the trapdoor appeared sound, it was the rest of the bar he was worried about. A floorboard bucked. The cellar wouldn’t contain them for long.
“Why don’t we just let them go?” Monty asked.
Digger gave him a look. “Might have been a good idea before you let those tourists in here to hear them. The sheriff’s already following me around. Letting those trolls loose to eat people is going to get us all arrested or worse.”
“And they might eat us, Monty love,” Sofia said.
Isabel stepped away from the bar as the trapdoor shuddered. “We might not have a choice.”
“You have any more fish?” Digger asked Monty.
Monty shook his head. “Do you think they like broiled tomatoes? Those weren’t a hit tonight.”
“I don’t think tomatoes will do it,” Sofia said. “We’ll go buy some fish. Something the ogre was supposed to do today. He promised me he’d take care of it.”
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