The Dragon and Rose

by Gerhard Gehrke

  The crowd had fallen into silence.

  “This is where you clap.”

  The response was lukewarm, a smattering of applause.

  A hoarse voice shouted, “Get on with it!”

  The mock queen sighed. “Those of you participating have your weapons. There are more hidden in the garden out back. There’s not a lot of rules, except you have to beat the fel to win a share of the purse. Other prizes are awarded by popular decision on showmanship and flair. That means if you’re a skulker who doesn’t get his hands dirty, you’re not going to win much.”

  The mock queen turned to face Digger and the other three fel. “And as for you, my dear monsters, all you have to do is survive. Through that door is the garden. You get a ten count.”

  Digger made a quick check of the hanging weapon rack. There wasn’t much there better than the shovel in his hands. The other three had their wooden swords and clubs.

  “We can’t fight all of them,” Steel Earring said.

  Digger counted ten audience members wearing masks and holding swords and knives. They were on their feet and moving into the center aisle where the excited audience was jostling them and patting their backs.

  “This is the show,” the mock queen said. “If you wanted out, you should have quit in the first round. Now shoo and don’t disappoint your queen.”

  When Steel Earring began to move towards the edge of the stage, Digger stopped him.

  “They’ll kill you. Come with me. Do as I say.”

  A door swung open at the rear of the stage. The spotlight fixed on Digger and followed him as he moved towards the exit. The three fel were right on his heels.

  “Ten...nine...eight...”

  The countdown became muted as Digger emerged into a potted garden lit with hundreds of candles. Lamps and torches lay at the outskirts but there were plenty of shadows under the palm fronds and greenery. At the center of the garden was a tent pole holding up a canopy of netting made of rope.

  A waiting shape before them turned out to be a stuffed dummy tied to a stake.

  Knocking the dummy aside, Digger ducked beneath an archway of plants and found a path leading further into the garden. “She said there were hidden weapons. Start looking. But keep moving.”

  “Seven...six...five...”

  His sharp eyes adjusted instantly. But the corridor between the plants yielded nothing.

  “Four...three...”

  “Look!” Steel Earring pulled out a spiked ball attached to a stick by a chain.

  “Drop it. If you don’t know how to use it, it’s no good to you.”

  “Two...one!”

  A cheer erupted from inside the theater. From the far side of the garden, doors creaked open and the buzz of the theater crowd filled the garden. Beyond the walls of ropes was a set of raised benches on a scaffold.

  Steel Earring kept both the spiked chain weapon and one of his swords. The three fel kept up as Digger entered a small clearing. Spectators began to fill the benches and were looking down at them. The mock queen was with them and giving instructions as people filed past her.

  From the backstage door came a whoop. The pureblood contestants cackled and laughed as they bounded into the garden.

  Three paths led out of the clearing. One of the fel tried to push between two potted plants but was confronted by a trellis covered in thorns and barbs. As he tried to shove his way through, a pot tipped off a pedestal and crashed.

  “Keep quiet,” Digger said.

  There were sounds all around, from above and behind. A howling echoed from the distance that he couldn’t identify.

  He was about to head down the middle path when someone in the bleachers shouted, “This way!”

  Digger beckoned the others to follow. “Come on. We have to find a place where we can make a stand.”

  He pushed past some branches and almost stepped onto a pile of leaves when he saw a glint of metal. A spike plate was concealed there and waiting to be stepped on. He jumped over the hazard and pointed it out to Steel Earring, who did the same for the two who followed.

  “They’re here! They’re here!”

  The crowd was lined up above them and on their feet. There’d be no surprises as long as their every move was relayed to those hunting them.

  But then someone in the crowd laughed and said, “Ooh! Get the ogre!”

  “Hellard?” Digger called. “Sprat Hellard! Are you here somewhere?”

  From beyond a wall of greenery came Hellard’s voice. “Thought you’d never get here.”

  The path they followed let out in a second clearing. No ogre. “Where are you?”

  “Right here. But I can’t exactly come to you.”

  His voice came from beyond the next row of potted palms. Digger easily avoided a second spike plate. From the opposite side of a barrier came the sound of running footsteps. But then more footfalls pounded the dirt somewhere before him.

  He stepped through a tangle of greenery.

  Hellard stood in a garden near a stone plinth. He held a bat in one hand. The ogre waved.

  Before Digger could do anything, Steel Earring collided into him and dropped his wooden sword. It clattered on the stone. A spear thrust at them through a wall of plants. Digger jerked back and pulled Steel Earring with him as the spear stabbed again in their direction, just missing both of them.

  A voice on other side of the green wall laughed. “We got ’em!”

  Digger waited for the three fel to emerge from the corridor before running over to Hellard. He tugged at the chain and inspected the cuff on the ogre’s foot. It would need a key or tools, which he didn’t have.

  “What are you doing in here?” Hellard asked.

  “Not much choice. Queen’s got Monty and is protecting him in exchange for me playing this game.”

  “How does that make sense?”

  “It doesn’t. Where’s the key?”

  “One of the guards. Trust me, I tried to get out already. But watch out. There’s bows and arrows hidden in the maze and I’m a sitting duck.”

  The other fel were backing away from one of the pathways as the first of the masked contestants appeared. From a second path came more, including the man with the spear. The audience was shouting at them. The back of the garden behind the plinth had no more exits. They were trapped. At least none of the contestants had a ranged weapon, but the thought provided little comfort. His group of fel was outnumbered even with a chained ogre on their side.

  Hellard gave the bat in his hands a few test swings. He wore his ever-present smile.

  Digger readied his shovel in both hands. “What are you so happy about?”

  “Eh, you know me. I take out a pureblood before this is over, it kind of makes my night.”

  Steel Earring had disconnected the spiked metal ball from its handle. He threw the ball at the closest masked man. It beaned him in the side of the head. The man limped back. But the rest closed in.

  “You’re an idiot,” Hellard said.

  “Rub it in later. How about focusing for now?”

  “You’re holding a shovel. How about prying up that spike holding me down?”

  Digger realized he hadn’t been thinking, only reacting. He slid the blade of the shovel against the spike. It resisted, the metal scraping. But on his second attempt the spike inched up from the ground. He levered it again and it popped free.

  Hellard didn’t hesitate. He let out a bellow and smashed the bat into the ground. The fel stepped aside. The oncoming theater contestants froze.

  Hellard paused to gather up the chain still attached to his ankle. “There’s only nine of you?”

  He rushed at the purebloods. The closest scrambled to get out of the way and avoid the swinging bat. Hellard knocked one man down but before he could press his advantage the others were around him with swords drawn.

  Hellard didn’t stand a chance. But he did have their attention.

  “Charge them!” Digger shouted.

  Digger didn’t wai
t to see if the others would follow. The closest masked man saw him coming but was slow in dodging. Digger smashed the shovel down on his shoulder. Heard bones break and tendons pop. The man howled as a companion pulled him away.

  Digger swiped at the next closest man, who parried with his sword but fell back, clearly frightened by the screams of his fellow contestant.

  The spear wielder was keeping Hellard busy. Hellard in turn swung at anyone who got too close. Even if the gang of purebloods didn’t know how to fight, they’d wear him down eventually. One cut was all it would take to tip the balance decidedly in their favor.

  The other fel moved in. Several small fights broke out, steel smashing against wooden weapons, with the ogre at the center.

  Digger pressed his attack, moving three contestants towards a wall of greenery.

  Steel Earring cried out. A swordsman had slashed him. The fel was retreating, having dropped his weapon and clutching a wound on his side.

  The other two fel were barely holding their own.

  Digger’s lapse of attention almost cost him. A sword blade thrust at him. When Digger knocked it away, the pureblood grabbed the shovel while another slashed at him, forcing him to let go and back up.

  There were too many of them and now he was disarmed.

  He retreated as his attackers took a moment to regroup. When he bumped a scarecrow he drove his elbow into the dummy, thinking it was one of the purebloods. His elbow struck metal. Kicking the scarecrow down, he tore away the ragged clothes and found a sword.

  It was short and light and sharp enough. He readied himself for the next attack, daring to feel a budding confidence against the masked men.

  But they weren’t coming.

  Even as Hellard sent the spear wielder reeling, the ones Digger had been facing had stopped to peel the mask and gown off a second scarecrow to reveal a bow and a quiver of arrows.

  A curse left Digger’s lips. Two of the purebloods stood protecting the one readying the bow.

  The audience up on the bleachers were shouting themselves hoarse. The faux queen was whipping them up into a frenzy. Everyone was on their feet. The strange distant howling persisted, but Digger fought to tune it all out.

  All distractions.

  But he couldn’t help feeling a sting of hatred in his heart towards the men he faced, the pureblood queen of the island, and all their kind.

  They still had to get him first.

  He ran. An arrow whizzed past as he tackled a man who was toying with Steel Earring. They crashed to the flagstone. Digger pummeled him with the sword pommel and the man dropped his long knife. Snatching up the blade, Digger slammed it into the man’s chest. The pureblood let out an explosive wheeze before dying.

  One of the other fel lay dead. The second was nursing a sliced wrist and was trying to avoid two assailants by dodging around the plinth near where Hellard had been chained.

  “Hellard, archer!” Digger shouted. “Fall back!”

  Hellard had somehow managed to grab the spear shaft and was pulling the pureblood along with him. The man kept trying to yank the weapon away but only managed to serve as a barrier between Hellard and the archer.

  The archer fired again, the missile flying high and just above Digger. He was still their target. The plinth was the only cover.

  Digger got up and tackled a nearby contestant. They rolled across the flagstones, the man pressing the edge of his rapier towards Digger’s neck. With a heave Digger pinned him and twisted the wrist until it snapped. The man screamed. The blade dropped. Digger let him go and kicked him away.

  A dagger wielder was coming for him but Steel Earring slashed at him with a recovered sword.

  The man expertly parried, light on his feet, and was smiling right until he ran into the ogre.

  Hellard tore the spear away from the contestant gripping it and smashed the shaft across the dagger wielder’s skull. He then reverse-swung and took down the former spear wielder.

  He roared, but ducked in time as the archer shot again. This time the arrow passed between him and Digger.

  The remaining men on the opposite side of the courtyard had regrouped and were busy dismantling a second dummy. Another bow awaited them.

  “The brave warriors discover the ogre’s weakness!” the faux queen called. “Magic bows with enchanted arrows? How does that grab you, boys and girls?”

  The situation pleased the audience fine as they yelled and stomped on the platform.

  Digger collected Steel Earring and the other fel and hurried to join Hellard behind the plinth. The width barely shielded half the ogre’s girth, and Digger felt guilty for hiding behind him. But as the two archers spread out, it was obvious their hiding place wouldn’t last but another moment.

  “Did Isabel make it?” Hellard asked.

  Digger was trying to make himself smaller. “Don’t know. She left the castle to take care of her own business.”

  “Beats being here.”

  Hellard handed the spear to one of the fel and reached under his shirt. He produced two of the troll sticks and began smacking them together.

  “Vinca! Hey, Vinca! This would be a great time!”

  Someone in the audience cackled. “The ogre’s calling his desert gods!”

  “Vinca’s here somewhere?” Digger asked.

  “Yeah. And she has the trolls.”

  Digger wasn’t sure what smashing the troll treats against one another was going to do, but he began shouting her name too.

  “Vinca! Vinca!”

  The crowd jeered.

  But no trolls came.

  “You didn’t see any open sewer gratings, did you?” Hellard asked.

  An arrow smacked the stone plinth, causing all of them to flinch. The archers were both gaining an angle on them where they could fill them with arrows at a safe and comfortable distance. Their only limit was the width of the garden.

  And here he was shouting a peasant girl’s name in the hope she’d send her pet trolls to save them.

  He didn’t hear any trolls. He stopped calling Vinca’s name.

  He readied himself. Once the closest archer shot his arrow he’d charge. The second archer might stop him and might even get a second shot off before Digger could close the distance. And if the second archer waited, he’d have a target even a drunk with a bow couldn’t miss.

  But it was their only chance.

  The archer Digger was watching drew back on the string. Digger tensed. But then the archer cried out. The arrow fell from the bow and the man collapsed, a crossbow bolt jutting from his chest.

  The second archer paused to look around him before he jerked and dropped to the ground. A bolt had pierced the back of his head.

  The other contestants were pointing and looking up at the rooftops above the bleachers. The crowd fell silent. The mock queen was at a loss for words.

  A row of castle guards were looking down at all of them.

  From a nearby balcony a figure appeared, lit by bright lanterns carried by two men dressed in red suits with black lapels and top hats.

  “You want to play games?” the real queen of Loom Island asked. “Then welcome to mine. Because if you play in my city, we use my rules. And now all of you are invited to join me for an impromptu season of catacombs.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  A SECTION OF WALL BEYOND the rope barrier shuddered as what sounded like pry bars and hammers slammed the wood, and the wall came crashing down. As it turned out, it was a boarded-up gate, or at least it had been at one time. A crew of workers retreated from the doorway. Red lights beyond illuminated a covered alley.

  Soldiers on the opposite rooftops chopped the rope barrier away. As it collapsed, gaps appeared between the garden and the new alley. Digger also saw they were no longer separated from the audience. The crowd in the bleachers stood confused. The masked contestants were huddled together and fearful, as if the crossbowmen might resume fire.

  Although he had no idea what lay down the alley, it was a way out. Bu
t before he could shove Hellard to get him moving, the queen spoke again.

  “You wanted a game. Here’s your chance. Just like you, I’ll start a countdown. Let’s give you all a minute to clear these stands and move towards the street.”

  Red Eye hurried next to the mock queen and climbed onto one of the bleacher benches. “What are you doing, Lady Claudia? This is my event! We’re not breaking any of your rules!”

  Claudia laughed. “Dearie, you’ve been free to ply your trade in my city and profit from every enterprise imaginable. I’ve never said no. This time you’ve overstepped into my territory. If you want to play here in my city, this contest is as much mine as yours. So play well.”

  She checked her wristwatch.

  “Thirty seconds.”

  “Come on!” Digger whispered. “Out the alley.”

  “What about the archers on the rooftops?” Steel Earring asked.

  Hellard peered up from behind the plinth. “Those soldiers aren’t aiming their crossbows at us.”

  Digger took a moment to confirm a few of them were indeed keeping crossbows pointing at the bleachers and the group of spectators.

  “It’s hard to hit a moving target,” he said. “When we break cover, don’t stop.”

  “We’re not breaking any laws!” Red Eye protested.

  “Twenty seconds, dear.”

  “I’ll give you a cut. Don’t do this.”

  “I’ve placed my wagers. I do hope you and your ruffians do better than my oddsmakers claim.”

  Digger got Hellard moving towards the gate. The other two followed. While there was no way to know what the street beyond the alley might hold, getting ahead of whatever the queen was planning seemed prudent. Plus there was an adage his ranger captain taught them early on for if they ever found themselves in an ambush.