The Dragon and Rose

by Gerhard Gehrke

  A second hidden door?

  He found himself holding his breath as he pushed and prodded at the trophy case and then the wall behind it. An identical catch like the queen had used opened a spring-loaded section of wall with the trophy case attached. This led to a narrow hall barely wide enough for Digger to squeeze through. He instantly knew Hellard wouldn’t fit.

  “Figures,” Hellard said.

  Digger went in search of a weapon and settled for picking up the side table. It might survive one good blow. He stood on the opposite side of the doorway from Hellard.

  “What are you doing?” Hellard asked.

  “We can hold them off. Maybe fight our way down the corridor.”

  “You’re just going to get in my way. I can seal myself up in here and wait them out. Get your skinny backside down there and save her.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Yes, you are. If you don’t I’m going to clobber you and stuff you in that hallway. But not before going through your pockets for spare change.”

  Digger looked down the narrow corridor and tried to guess where it might lead. “Why?”

  Hellard shrugged. “Marcus is right. There’s going to have to be a reckoning between fel and pureblood. But killing Claudia won’t help. At least today. Now get out of here.”

  Digger heard the first bootsteps of the guards coming closer. From the sound of it there were now a dozen or more men. Hellard shut the door to the waiting room and began to pile furniture against it.

  Digger squeezed past the open wall and into the passageway. Before he could turn to say anything, the wall clicked as Hellard closed it behind him, leaving him in the dark space all alone.

  Chapter Fifty

  DIGGER’S ACUTE NIGHT vision was not much help when there was no light coming from any direction. But the narrow corridor only went one way. The passage made several abrupt turns and soon he was hurrying along with hands outstretched before him, even as he heard men shouting and wood smashing behind him.

  “Give ’em hell, ogre.”

  As he squeezed his way along, he realized he might be passing any number of concealed doors flush with the walls. And where this corridor might lead remained a mystery. But he had been in a few of the large chambers within the catacombs. Surely this corridor would eventually connect to one of them where he might be able to orient himself.

  The hallway reached a dead end. A simple heavy latch allowed a door to swing open. Faint light from a stairway leading up revealed the entrance to one of the galleries. From here the spectators could watch the game contestants slaughter each other while remaining safe above the fray. From what he had observed, the galleries were connected to all the game rooms.

  Another door stood directly across from his. Stairs leading down. Those would take him to the same level where Claudia had fled. He hurried, hands on either wall to prevent a crippling stumble down stone steps.

  The cavernous chamber he entered echoed with distant bells and cries of alarm carrying from all directions. But that was all from the castle above. He crouched and tuned it all out. Strained his ears.

  Soft running footsteps. To the left.

  He ran. He became hyperaware of his own shoes making too much noise. If only he had kept the doeskin boots they had been issued during training.

  As the chamber began to slope downward he discovered a large section of wall standing open. Lamplight flickered from a passageway beyond.

  This part of the catacombs looked familiar, but the walls had been stripped of decorations. Parts of the floor had been pulled up. The air smelled damp with a trace of bleach that stung his sinuses. The memory of the crowd and their catcalls, jeers, and applause almost paralyzed him.

  Was he really going to try to save the woman who had built this place?

  He could backtrack, return to the waiting room where even at that moment Sprat Hellard was fighting off the castle guards in a futile last stand.

  Even if he stopped Marcus, what then? Claudia could have him killed for any number of reasons, not the least being he had been there to see her humiliated in her home. And his brother and friends wouldn’t survive the aftermath.

  But what would follow if Claudia was killed?

  Isabel had mentioned the duke’s ships patrolling outside the harbor. He hadn’t heard anything about it. Who but Claudia would stand up to the duke if he made a play for the island? And if she were dead, nothing would stop Tito from carrying out his designs upon every fel in the city.

  Only as he passed through the open doorway did he realize he was heading towards the room that had held the final encounter of the catacomb games. The nymph’s bedchamber. Would this be where Marcus caught the queen of the island?

  But as Digger kept running, a new sound echoed.

  Lady Claudia was laughing.

  The final set piece of the queen’s games. Once the room had held a bed of seashells where Isabel had been placed, along with fel prisoners meant to be her bodyguards. Digger surveyed a room now filled with stacks of lumber, bricks, and crates. A workman or castle servant lay sprawled on the floor, his body still.

  Claudia was backed against a corner, a lantern in one hand and the hairpin in the other. Marcus loomed before her, the sword turning in his grip.

  “What sport,” she said as she fought to catch her breath. Then she laughed again.

  “I thought you’d turn to your god right now,” Marcus said. “Pray. Beg.”

  “You really don’t know me, dearie. And me beg you? For what? I’m the protector of your kind. Your mother. Who are the fel, really, but my children?”

  Marcus spun as Digger approached.

  Claudia’s face brightened, her mouth agape with wonder. “Ah, finally. My climax.”

  Digger kicked a crate aside, sending wrapped metal parts scattering. “Tell him the rest of it, Queen Claudia. In case Marcus forgot. Every fel who ever had to listen to a sermon has heard it: how we spawned from your blood and the dust. The children of the pure. We rose and populated the cursed earth and nearly hunted every pureblood down. And which crusade was it which turned that tide?”

  “Saint Aquino, Lord of Waters.”

  “That’s the one. But no one of your kind or ours ever saw him or even know if he’s real. Doubt isn’t allowed in Third Scripture. It’s a sin. But that doesn’t matter, does it? We fel are bound for damnation from birth.”

  “So it’s written,” she agreed. “But the stories do stir the emotions. How do you think I built this place? It’s all hopes and dreams.”

  “See, Marcus? This is what you’re fighting. Ideas and beliefs, even if she believes less than either of us ever did. But imagine what happens if she dies here. What she becomes to every pureblood who has passively gone along with the duke and his edict. Right now he rules over some seven counties. But this deed will spread to Altea and Pinnacle and the lands of the north beyond the delta. We’ll face annihilation.”

  A cold smile crossed Marcus’s face. “Then we rise from the ashes a second time.”

  Digger barely stopped the slashing blade as it cleaved towards his midsection. A fraction slower and he’d have been cut open. But he spun the spear and struck Marcus across an arm with the shaft. Marcus fell back a step. They faced one another, eyes locked. Unlike the cramped waiting room, there was room here to maneuver.

  Digger kept a defensive stance even as Marcus did the same. Marcus’s side was stained dark with blood where the queen had stabbed him. He kept licking his lips as if thirsty.

  “You can still run and make it out of here,” Digger said.

  Marcus paused for a moment and appeared to sag before smacking the spear tip aside with the sword. He rushed forward, chopping at Digger’s head. Digger caught the blow with the spear and body-checked him and tried to hook a foot with his own. Marcus was fast enough that he didn’t stumble. Their weapons clashed again. Digger feinted with a jab, saw an opening, and kicked a knee. Something popped and Marcus stumbled back.

  Marcus gr
inned as he limped to block Digger’s fresh attack. But he was slowing.

  Hadn’t their instructor told them that most fights were decided by the first blow?

  Digger felt distant and dreamlike, as if he were no longer in control of his actions. His training and reflexes took over. He thrust the spear again, this time using all his strength. Even as Marcus hacked at the spear, Digger shoved the weapon into him. It caught Marcus under an arm. Digger only hesitated for a moment before driving the steel home.

  Marcus heaved and spasmed as he dropped to the floor. Digger freed the spear and stumbled back, suddenly feeling dizzy and wanting to gag. He dropped to his knees, his eyes locked on Marcus.

  The one-time ranger died in moments. Digger stared at the blood pooling around him and wondered what he’d done.

  Claudia was clapping. She limped forward and looked down at them.

  “All just for me,” she said softly.

  He still held the spear. With one move he could strike her, eviscerate her, spill her guts for her to see as she died writhing.

  The guards were now somewhere in the catacombs, as their calls for their queen resounded around them. But for the moment he and Claudia were alone, separated by the dead ranger.

  His legs trembled as he stood, leaning on the spear to steady himself.

  “Tell your men the ogre is to be spared. He came here to help stop Marcus.”

  Her eyes shone at his words. “He’s down here fighting?”

  “The game is over. Call your men. Now.”

  He tried to think of what threat would move the woman to action but wasn’t sure anything would work. But she shouted for her guards. They came in moments with lanterns and swords and a few crossbows. Digger moved next to Claudia to face them as yellow light further illuminated the grizzly scene. He let the spear clatter to the floor.

  “Get away from her,” one of them ordered.

  “Tut-tut,” the queen said. “That’s no way to address my savior. Does the ogre yet live?”

  “We have him hemmed in the sitting room beneath the small library.”

  “He’s not to be harmed. Neither is my champion. Tonight they’ve saved me from a villain most foul. Let it be known that the games, at least for this weekend, are at an end.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  A SQUAD OF GUARDS FOLLOWED Hellard and Digger back up into the main floor of the castle. The queen hurried ahead of her knot of protectors down the grand hallway.

  Hellard had only emerged from the locked sitting room when Digger knocked and told him to come out.

  “They never came,” the ogre said with a note of disappointment. “Guess they were going to starve me out.”

  “How many months would that have taken?”

  Hellard scoffed and took a moment to nudge one of the nervous guards. The man almost jumped.

  A pair of servants passed them bearing Rochus’s covered body on a stretcher. Others were busy cleaning and it seemed as if every candle and lamp in the castle was burning.

  The light was driving a spike through Digger’s forehead. His throat felt raw. He thought if he stopped moving he’d collapse, but he managed to continue as they were escorted to the clock room.

  “Bring them in,” Claudia called.

  As Digger, Hellard, and their ten guards filed in, Claudia was standing at her desk and busily writing. She was going on and on about something but he had stopped listening, looking down at the slick of blood where Rochus had died.

  Hellard nudged him.

  She had stopped talking and was staring straight at him. “What do you say, my champion?”

  He squinted at her. “What?”

  “‘What’ indeed. We’ll leave the storytelling and big words to the game master. But after what I saw tonight, you’ll be the biggest draw I could ever imagine. Why, just the story of your duel with your former brother-in-arms is an epic tale which will be spun into song and set to the page. Do you know there’s a strong market for adult picture books?”

  A servant with a bucket and brush starting cleaning the floor nearby.

  The light in the room only got brighter. Vivid blues and gold radiated through a window. Some sort of light show, he thought, but then he realized it was the sun starting to rise. He also smelled a whiff of smoke.

  “Oh, champion? Am I distracting you?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  Her eyes went cold even as her smile remained. “Were you not listening? I’m offering you a place here. You wouldn’t even have to fight. We could have any number of tourneys with you as host, where all you have to do is wave, growl, or glare at them. You’ll be hated and loved more than any stage actor or troubadour. Red Eye showed us what we can do with a simple theater. Imagine the production we could have staged if I had more than a couple of days to prepare.”

  “The answer’s no.”

  The guards still surrounded him and Hellard. With a word she could have them seized or killed, to once again be thrown into her prison until she devised further torments. But he was too tired to fake anything but disgust at the idea of working for her.

  “You’re tired and hungry,” Claudia said. “The kitchen will make breakfast. A proper room will be prepared for you and for your ogre friend, and not one of the servants’ quarters. Get rest, and we’ll talk at lunch.”

  “Maybe it’s all the hair over your ears, but I’m done with you and your games.”

  Now she was frowning. “You dare talk to me like this?”

  “How else when you’re not listening. Your nobles and your nephew were all at risk tonight. So were the people I care about. You brought them into that death trap of a game. Your city might be burning. And all you can think about are new rounds of catacombs?”

  “Perhaps you need to see the duke’s court. There will always be more nobles. And nothing that burns can’t be rebuilt. But to recreate the excitement that I witnessed...that would be a feat. I’m offering you a place in the spotlight of the world.”

  “And my answer hasn’t changed.”

  Hellard raised a hand as if he were a stripling in a classroom. “Breakfast sounds good.”

  But Digger wasn’t waiting for the queen to reply. He elbowed past the guards. Even as Hellard caught up with him and they descended the stairs to the front courtyard, he kept his ears open for her command to the guards to stop them or fire their crossbows.

  The order never came.

  “We’re getting paid for all that fighting, aren’t we?” Hellard asked.

  Digger kept marching. “Why don’t you go back and ask her.”

  But the ogre didn’t. They walked out the front gate together and headed for the Dragon and Rose.

  DARK SMOKE HUNG IN the morning air. Even as a stiff breeze blew down the streets, Digger knew it wasn’t any factory running an early shift. The fire still burned in the Temperance District. Alarm bells rang and groups of people moved about the avenues. But Digger avoided the streets nearest the theater as they headed for the bar.

  Lady Sofia answered the door. She had bags beneath her eyes and her face was pale. But before he could say anything she grabbed him into a hug.

  “What’s that for?” he asked.

  “You kept him safe.”

  Monty and Jamie were waiting inside at a table, both appearing exhausted and covered with a thin layer of soot. A few lamps were burning but the sun was cresting the horizon now and shining in through the front door.

  Sofia released him but not before pecking him on the cheek.

  Hellard asked, “None for me?”

  She slugged his arm as they entered. The place had been cleaned since they were last there. Digger had grown so accustomed to seeing platters of food laid out that the bare bar was a surprise.

  “What’s going on out there?” Jamie asked. “The fire...”

  Digger found a pitcher of water and drank. “It spread and it’s still burning. We came straight here from the castle.”

  “And my aunt? And this Marcus?”

&nb
sp; “He’s dead. And she’s back in her castle planning the next season of entertainment. Where’s Isabel?”

  “I thought she was with you.”

  Jamie adjusted his sword belt and ran for the door.

  Digger moved to stop him. “I know where she went. Stay put and keep watching this place. I’ll go find her.”

  “I’m not staying here. Take me to her.”

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  Monty had been silent this whole time. “Wait, why you? You look like you’re ready to collapse.”

  “Because she’s one of us.”

  He saw his brother didn’t understand. He didn’t have the energy for an explanation.

  “Because Digger doesn’t trust anyone,” Hellard said. “But the people he does trust are all here, except for Isabel.”

  Monty shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Neither does your brother. He’s full of it. Tonight we had to kill pureblood and fel just to stay alive. But in his mind keeping the peace between the two is something worth fighting for.”

  “And what are you fighting for?” Digger asked.

  Hellard shrugged. “With the city burning and monster dogs on the streets, I’m taking this day by day.” He strode towards the kitchen. “Any leftovers?”

  “You’re not coming?”

  “Nah. We both know where she went. She’s not in any danger. And since you spoiled our breakfast invitation at the castle, I need to find something to eat.”

  “So we’re safe,” Monty said.

  Digger shook his head. “I wouldn’t go that far. The queen’s pissed. A lot of people died tonight in her games. And according to Isabel, the duke has ships intercepting anything that goes in and out of the harbor. On top of everything else, this bar seems to be on everyone’s map of places to visit. Safe will mean us stealing a fishing boat off the east side and getting as far away from the island as possible. But I know you’re not going to let me do that. So sit tight while Jamie and I find Isabel. And then we talk about our next move.”