by J. F. Lewis
I’ve never understood the idea of nonfatal combat with real weapons, Kholster thought at Vander.
I’m told they have a point system. Look for scorekeepers at the cardinal points, each with a Long Arm and a Long Speaker.
How does one score nonfatal points with a pair of iron paws?
Superficial cuts to vital areas. There should be a tent for Torgrimm’s medics there somewhere. They’ll float the injured out by Long Arm.
What about broken bones?
Frowned upon, but accepted. It’ll be a new experience. Those are good, right? Vander thought.
Not always. Kholster growled and darted at Chains, throwing the quarterstaff in a slow spin that easily knocked the woman wielding the iron paws off the rim. She grunted in pain and surprise as she found herself suddenly flailing in saltwater.
*
Wylant brought her horse to a sliding stop, quiet settling across the tunnel.
“General?” Roc asked.
She answered with a palm in his direction, silencing any further inquiries. Above the riders, globes of mystic flame flickered, partially banishing the darkness, a vein of Dienoxin crystal running through the eastern wall, sending off irregular flashes of illumination in response. Wylant and her knights had already traveled farther than she thought likely, and the tunnel had not yet turned north as she expected it might. She grabbed a compass from her pack and frowned before putting it away. Southwest?
“Roc, do you feel that?” Pulling off her helmet, Wylant dismounted and put her ear to the ground. Something big was coming. Something unfamiliar.
Dust fell from the rock above her head, making the horses snort and whinny. Wylant clapped her helm back on and stood waiting on the near side of her mount, one hand firmly on the reins.
“What is it, sir?” Roc called over the rising rumble.
“Something new,” Wylant answered softly.
“I can’t tell if it’s coming from behind or in front of us,” Lieutenant Hira called out.
“It may be both.” Wylant cursed briefly as she swung up into the saddle. “This is wrong; they aren’t fighting like Zaur.”
“Should we report back now?” Hira asked hopefully.
No, Wylant thought, we will try to lure some of them out of the tunnel where we can see them properly first. She opened her mouth to give a brusque order but found she couldn’t. No, we must fight them here.
“I have to see them.” Wylant shook her head. “I have to cross blades with them before we report back. Otherwise, what kind of intelligence do I have for King Grivek? We got scared in their tunnels and ran away?”
“No!” Her knights looked at her in shocked silence from behind their eye slits. Numbness flushed across her cheeks and back along her gums. I. What? That’s not what I . . .
Wylant ripped off her helmet and threw it to the ground with a resounding clang. “We are the king’s Royal Lancers!” she found herself shouting. “Are we afraid to die for our king?”
“No!” they answered as one.
“Are we afraid to die for our people?”
“No!” they answered once more.
“Lances!” she ordered. Ten mounted knights surged forward.
“Roc. Hira. Mazik. Form up with me.” This is what I trained you for, she thought with satisfaction as each rider she named smoothly joined her, even if I don’t know exactly why in all the hells it has to go this way. As the others fell into well-disciplined ranks of four and three behind them, each with his lance couched under his right arm, Wylant felt herself pulled toward battle as surely as if she had been pushed from behind.
*
Kholster accepted the hit he was sure Chains meant for him to dodge, the right-hand chain wrapping around his left arm as he grabbed it left-handed and jerked the human toward him. A quick palm to the chest knocked the wind from Chains—and broke the man’s sternum from the sound of it. A second hit to the chest seemed too likely to kill, so Kholster delivered a kick to the stomach instead.
I wonder if that counts for points?
Coughing blood, the man held up his hands, and Kholster let him drop to his knees. As Kholster tugged the chain free, the Long Arms positioned near the scorekeepers at the cardinal points of the arena caught the human and jerkily floated his limp body up, away from the fighting, toward the tent of Torgrimm’s medics . . . Kholster could see it located atop the northern rim of the arena. He swung the chain over his head as he dodged another flurry of kicks and punches from the woman.
What are the others doing? he thought at Vander.
The big one with the trident and the one with the broadsword are just standing in the staging area watching. Same for the woman with the trident. Uh . . . hold a moment . . . none of the Bone Finders saw where the other two went.
Kholster barely dodged an attack from the gnome, Daggers, who darted in low and cut at the back of Kholster’s knees. Repositioning himself to keep an eye on the two heading for Rae’en as well as the two facing him . . . Kholster gave a quick scan of the ring and didn’t see the two missing fighters either.
*
“Charge!” Wylant yelled and snapped the reins.
Her Lance surged down the tunnel, developing a distance between their three ranks. She reined in sharply as twelve eyeless, rock-hided beasts came into view, each bearing a Zaur armored in black metal plates. These were a threat, clearly, but not, Wylant thought, big enough to shake the tunnel. “What in Aldo’s name?”
Each beast was shorter than a horse, with broad shoulders; a heavily muscled chest; and hardened protrusions along its shoulders, knees, forehead, and sides. A single long braid of hair trailed from what should have been their chins, but the beasts had no apparent mouths. Each leg ended with six long, thick splayed toes that gripped the floor of the tunnel. Both Eldrennai and Zaur came to a halt, considering their foes.
The leader of the Zaur, every bit as strange to Wylant as the mounts upon which he and his soldiers rode, was larger than his companions. Zigzag patterns of brilliant blue ran luminously through the black scales covering his body. Twin yellow eyes peered at her from beneath thick eye ridges on his wedge-shaped head. He looked right at Wylant, her bald head glinting in the magical light, and saluted before giving an order in harsh Tol.
At his command, the ranks of enemy riders surged forward, spreading up the walls and ceiling into a deadly ring of mounted Zaur wielding Skria, longer versions of the angular Skreel knives. Four ran along the floor and four along the ceiling, with two on each wall.
Thin steel chains ran between the Zaur riders and their mounts, hooking the rider’s armor directly into the hard, stony hide. Seeing no reins, Wylant could only guess at how they were controlling the mounts. Tail slaps, perhaps?
“How are they doing that?” Roc growled.
Wylant’s mind cleared suddenly, as if a fog were lifting from her thoughts. “Ice the ceiling and walls on my command,” she ordered.
I’ve felt like this before, she thought, just after I forged Vax. Almost as if . . . but Wylant put the thought aside. There was no time for thought. She had her information; now she needed to live to get it to the king and the High Elementalist.
*
Rae’en fought back a laugh as the woman with the iron paws scrambled frantically for the ledge. The sharks paid her no heed, and Rae’en wondered if it was because she wasn’t bleeding. Realizing she couldn’t reach the lip and had no way to climb out, the woman shouted something about the water being below regulation depth and demanded to be pulled out by a Long Arm.
She treaded water briefly, waiting, then made for the prep area where there was more of a slant and it looked possible to walk up out of the water.
Axe kept his eyes on his hands, feeling his way along the ledge toward Rae’en, so Rae’en gave him her full attention as well.
It’s three touches to beat him, right?
I never paid attention to points when I fought in the Oathbreaker Arena, Kholster thought back. We fought to the death. This is
more civilized.
*
“Now!” Wylant shouted. Unified pulses of elemental magic filled the air with bitter cold. Ice crawled up the walls of the tunnel ahead of them, each knight covering a different arc with his spell. “It won’t hurt the Zaur much, but it might break the ring of wall crawlers.”
The four beasts on the ceiling lost their footing simultaneously as they struck the ice. They fell, six-toed feet scrabbling desperately for purchase on the slick surface. Three riders were crushed as they struck the tunnel floor, but the fourth managed to free itself at the last moment, rolling clear of its flailing mount.
On either side of the tunnel, the four wall-riding Zaur succeeded in getting their beasts safely down to the floor, but the creatures came to a stop, refusing to continue forward despite the angry thumping of their riders’ tails against their backs.
Ha! It is the tails. “They steer with their tails! Chop ’em if you get a chance.”
Wylant urged her line of Eldrennai riders forward, and they clashed violently with the oncoming Zaur. The Zaur mounts made no attempt to sidestep the Eldrennai horses, bulling headlong at them. Roc’s and Hira’s horses managed to avoid a direct collision, but each knight lost his lance, buried deep within the body of a mounted Zaur.
Vax took the leader through the shoulder, shifting into an axe to avoid sticking fast, widening the wound as it tore free moments before Wylant’s horse struck the rock-hided Zaur mount. Wylant and Mazik both took hard, bone-splintering hits. The shouts and battle cries of Zaur, Eldrennai, and horses filled the tunnel.
Mazik caught himself with a hastily shouted blast of air, but Wylant struck the tunnel floor hard enough to spot her field of vision with sparks of light and start the cave spinning around her. Mazik placed himself between his general and the Zaur, evading a blow from the dismounted ceiling rider’s Skria. It struck at him from all fours, dashing past on the knight’s left, circling back on the right. Mazik instinctively tried to knock the first attack away with a blast of conjured wind, and the Skria slid along his armor, but the second attack caught him along the mail reinforcements behind his left knee. The armor held, but the force of the blow drove him to the floor. Ducking under a blow from the Zaur warrior’s tail, Mazik cursed and drew his longsword.
“Caught flat-footed like a novice,” he hissed under his breath. He pivoted on his knee, swinging his sword in a swift deadly arc. “It’s been so long since the last raid that I’d almost forgotten what it was like,” Mazik’s blade found purchase in the Zaur’s temple as it turned for another pass, “to fight you!” Blood sprayed along the blade as it cut horizontally, catching the top corner of one eye and slicing straight through the middle of the other. The dead Zaur fell to the ground scratching and kicking at random, its tail lashing up and down.
*
Kholster dodged a sweep from the disarmed woman only to find himself open to attack from the gnome with the daggers who’d slid around to his left side. Accepting the glancing hit to his mail, Kholster whipped the chain around, catching the gnome in the throat and then releasing his hold on one side so the chain wrapped around the gnome’s neck.
An exultant roar came from the crowd as the gnome went down, daggers forgotten, clutching his throat. Kholster grabbed for the daggers, but too slow. The woman snatched them both up and scampered away from him before he could react. Kholster transferred the name he’d given the gnome to the woman . . . name following the wielder of the weapons. I’ll show her as Daggers now . . . not that Vander was generating a map in his field of vision upon which a correction would be made . . .
The jab I took, Kholster thought at Vander, did that count as a point?
You’d think they’d have the score posted somewhere.
*
As Roc and Hira dispatched the floor-rider Mazik had wounded, the four Zaur wall-riders charged in, running back up the walls as they reached an area not covered by the summoned ice and clashing with the second rank of Eldrennai knights: Bakt, Dodan, Frip, and Tomas. The two wall-riding Zaur on one side brought their Skria down at right angles, killing Bakt and his mount in one motion. The wounded Zaur leader caught Dodan in the neck with his Skria, decapitating him. His lifeless body fell from his horse and was trampled by the rock beast. Two of the Zaur mounts with dead riders angled straight for Frip’s horse, sending the knight hurtling through the air.
Tomas leveled his lance at the opposing Zaur’s mount, striking it in the shoulder and splintering the weapon, then bringing his sword up and across, killing the rider. “Dienox!” he bellowed as the enemy rider’s Skria cut halfway through his torso, stuck, and sent him tumbling to floor beneath the feet of the enemy beast.
*
Kholster felt daggers slide along his mail, grunted hard when the woman danced out of reach, but he continued unwrapping the chain from the gnome’s neck. He was still breathing, but so shallowly Kholster feared permanent damage if his breath remained restricted. Why haven’t the Long Arms floated him out?
Tell me when she goes for my back again, Kholster sent to Vander.
I’ll try, but there’s a little delay . . .
Do what you can do.
Bending over the gnome as if he were checking him for signs of life, Kholster waited for the signal.
*
Blocked, Roc and Hira fought their way through Zaur mounts with dead riders. Four on three, the surviving Zaur charged toward the last rank of Eldrennai knights: Griv, Frindo, and Ponnod. Abruptly, the Zaur leader slowed. He shouted an order, and the three riders dropped their Skria, unlatched themselves, drew their Skreel blades, and leapt from the back of their mounts toward the mounted Eldrennai. One pulled Griv from his horse and landed on the ground atop his prone form. Frindo caught his attacker with the tip of his lance, steering clear of the mount and continuing toward Roc and Hira.
Ponnod’s attacker missed his mark and succeeded only in sideswiping Ponnod’s mount, severing the harness. The Zaur struck the ground beneath the horse’s feet before rolling miraculously clear of the hooves.
*
Now.
Kholster spun, catching Daggers by the right wrist, snapping it, forced the dagger out of her hand and elicited a sharp yelp of pain as he came up twisting the woman’s wrist, thumbs against the back of her hands. She doubled over, and he delivered a knee to the stomach for good measure, before following it up with a punch to the temple.
She went down hard. Perhaps too hard.
Kholster was moving in to check her pulse when he heard the splash.
Rae’en’s in the water, Vander thought at him.
*
More debris shook free of the roof, raining dust and dirt down on Wylant’s bare head. The cacophonous roar of galloping beasts puzzled her. It was growing louder.
Wylant finally caught sight of the thing that had caused the tunnel to shake—a serpent larger than any she had ever seen—as it rounded a bend in the tunnel and bore down on her remaining Lancers. “Great . . .” she slurred, catching herself before swearing by Dienox, “Bloodmane!” The beast tore Frindo from the back of his horse, and Wylant watched as he vanished wordlessly into that tremendous maw.
“Withdraw!” Wylant yelled as clearly as she could manage. “Every knight, take flight; tell the king what you’ve seen!”
Ponnod’s saddle slid sideways off of his horse, and, though the Eldrennai knight caught himself with a spell, the serpent snatched him out of the air.
*
Kholster locked eyes with Axe standing on the lip of the arena close to where Rae’en had been. He saw shock and surprise in Axe’s eyes. If the man had been responsible he—
A shark has her, Vander sent. On Teru’s side.
Where is Teru?!
But then he saw her, clutched in the middle by the shark’s maw, trailing blood in the water. Why wasn’t she thinking to him? A familiar warpick dropped past her, sinking like a stone.
She’d dropped Grudge.
*
Roc and Hira turned as
one, Hira hardening the air beneath the hooves of their mounts with a spell. Passing as far from the remaining Zaur as they could, the two knights galloped down the tunnel, back toward the ruined watch town. “Mazik,” Roc shouted, gesturing vaguely toward Frindo’s horse. “Grab the general.”
“Forget about the general and follow your orders!” Wylant bellowed. The Zaur leader and his one remaining mounted soldier slapped their tails down, urging their mounts down the tunnel after Roc and Hira. Wylant scrambled for Vax, relaxing slightly when the weapon’s mottled blue hilt came within her grasp. Mazik helped her to her feet. “I ordered you out of here, Mazik.”
*
Do you want Teru to— Vander almost asked.
No, she can get out of there. She needs to stop panicking.
But, Kholster— Vander thought back at him.
Would you jump in to save me?
Kholster watched Rae’en flail. He wanted more than anything to dive into that water, kill the sharks and . . . and it would teach her nothing.
If she is to be First, she must learn to control the panic, he reminded himself.
Rae’en? he thought at her. Calm down. Kill the shark and eat it.
*
Mazik stepped forward, parrying a blow from the Skreel knife of the last remaining Zaur. Even through the mental haze that accompanied her head wound, Wylant could tell he was smiling beneath his faceplate; the sound of it was in his voice even through the metallic distortion of his foci. “I’m disobeying orders, sir,” he answered, slicing the Zaur almost in half diagonally with his blade. “If we live, you can have me flogged.”
*
You can do this, Kholster thought at Rae’en. As he still held Testament, he knew she could hear him. He almost missed the two shadows sliding across the open ground.
So that’s where the other two were, Vander thought at him. Shadowpaths.
“Followers of Kilke, if you attack me before my daughter is safe, I vow to kill and eat you both,” Kholster snapped at the shadows.
Ignore the pain. Ignore the fear.
One of the other sharks swam toward her.
Just kill the shark. Use your hands. Use your teeth. It’s doesn’t matter how. Just kill it.
