Harvest Tournament (Sexcraft Chronicles Book 2)

by Edmund Hughes

  “Hal, this is Legs,” said Gangor. “And what Legs here is referring to are a few one off disappearances that have happened over the past few months.”

  He took another sip of the liquor and proffered it to the others. Hal accepted it again, this time being far more cautious with his swig.

  “One off disappearances!” shouted Legs. “Ha! Is that what you call the dozens of people who’ve gone missing? Is that why the Maxim has people seeking the hidden entrances to the catacombs to seal off?”

  “Legs…” said Gangor. “You’re ruining the merriment, my merry man.”

  “And this Harvest Tournament…” said Legs. “Grand prize doubled over the last year? That’s not charity on the Maxim’s part. You know it ain’t. He’s paying it out because it buys the city at least a few days of protection, more if some of the warriors in attendance sign on with his new militia.”

  “Are either of you planning on entering?” asked Hal.

  Gangor and Legs stared at him for several seconds, and then both of them began to laugh.

  “If I wanted to commit suicide, I’d do it on liquor and sleeping herbs,” said Gangor. “By Darros, do we look like we’d stand a chance up against the best fighters in the realm?”

  “Uh…” Hal tried not dwell too long on the fact that both of the men were larger and more muscular than he was.

  The next few hours passed in a mix of drinking and conversation. Hal enjoyed himself far more than he’d been expecting to. He even did a little bit of dancing, jumping in to showcase a few flows from Kye Lornis when one of the serving girls began fiddling.

  He was in the middle of singing a drinking song with barely comprehensible lyrics when he saw Laurel storm out of the ballroom and through the foyer. It took Hal a minute to extricate himself from the crowd of servants and follow her outside.

  She was already hurrying across the castle courtyard, holding the bottom hem of her blue gown up a few inches so she could run faster. She wasn’t headed back toward the guest lodge, but into town. Hal ran after her, feeling his emotions twist as he tried to imagine what had happened.

  “Laurel!” he called. “Hold on! It’s me!”

  She slowed slightly, but kept moving. It was late, and the city was dark apart from what little light the stars offered and the glow from the occasional lighted window.

  “Hey!” said Hal, putting a hand on her shoulder as he drew even with her. “What happened?”

  They were in the middle of an empty street, with nobody else in sight. Laurel turned to look at him, revealing a face streaked with tears. She shook her head, her body shivering with emotion.

  “It was a mess,” she whispered. “And everything I said… everything I did… just made it worse.”

  “It’s okay,” said Hal. “You’re okay. Look, you’ve been through worse.”

  “Have I?” She met his gaze, and the pain and sadness in her eyes was hard for Hal to bear. “It just went on and on. Lady Althis and the rest of those noblewomen with their mocking. Lord Teymus and his refusal to take a hint. By the end, it almost seemed like a good idea to just…”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” asked Hal. “Would that help?”

  “I let him dance with me, Hal,” said Laurel. “And all he did was put his hands where they didn’t belong. He spent the entire time seeing what I’d let him get away with. And people noticed, and it all became about me. All about shaming, and mocking, and torturing me…”

  Hal felt a deep rage surge through his heart and veins. His hand went to the handle of his pistol, and he suddenly found himself wishing he’d punched the smarmy nobleman when he’d had the chance.

  “I’ll make him pay for that,” said Hal. And he meant it.

  “No…” Laurel took a shaky breath and bowed her head forehead. “I just… don’t understand. Life doesn’t have to be fair. I just wish that my fate wasn’t so casually cruel.”

  Hal pulled her into a tight hug, wishing that it was enough to protect her from what she was feeling.

  “It’ll be okay,” said Hal.

  Laurel pressed her face into his shoulder, and he could feel hot tears soaking through the fabric.

  “And now, it’s your turn,” she whispered. “Why else were you brought into my life, except to be another thing for me to get attached to, and then lose?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Hal cupped her cheek as she pulled back slightly. The two of them stared at each other, alone in the empty street, with the stars overhead. Hal felt Laurel’s hand running along his arm. She rose up onto her tiptoes and brought her face in closer to his…

  It happened faster than Hal could follow. A dark form thundered out of a nearby alleyway, flanked by two others. Hal pulled Laurel behind him, unholstering his pistol and cocking it in a series of smooth movements.

  Even in the dark, he could recognize them for what they were, by sound, if not by sight. The wet, throaty moans. The shuffling sound of deformed feet. Hal focused the ruby essence of his heartgem and blasted a Flame Shot into the first of the oncoming husks.

  The light from the fire blast briefly illuminated the features of the undead monsters. They’d been human once, until their bodies had been reanimated by the twisted magic of necromancy. Their sickly grey skin was marred with strange lumps, and their mouths were too wide and too full of teeth. They wore no clothing, but little of their sexually identifying features were left on their rotted forms.

  One of them rushed forward on Hal’s left, striking his hand with its long, claw like fingers. He dropped his pistol and stumbled a step back, leaving an opening for the other unwounded husk to move into attack position.

  Hal drew his short sword and attacked in the same movement, cutting into the neck of one of the monsters. A wet gurgle came from its throat, followed by spurts of acrid blood as Hal pulled the blade loose.

  He left himself open for an instant too long, and the last husk crashed into him from the side. Hal let out a surprised shout, struggling to hold the monster back enough to keep his face out of range of its razor sharp, blackened teeth. It was stronger than it looked. Stronger than he was.

  No! If I die, then Laurel is next!

  Hal let out a snarl and slammed his head forward, knocking his forehead into the monster’s skull. It pulled back a few inches, leaving enough room for Hal to roll to the side. He rose to one knee and spotted Laurel holding his sword. She threw it to him, and Hal caught it by the hilt, immediately twisting into a spinning slash as soon as he had it in his grasp.

  The husk was fast, and dodged backward out of range. It slowly backed into the darkness of the alley, and Hal almost followed after it before realizing how vulnerable it would leave him. The monsters were smarter than he gave them credit for.

  “Back to the castle,” said Hal, picking up his pistol. “Stay close to me.”

  Laurel took hold of his shirt, hanging off him in the same manner that his sister Lilith would have while being led through a dark room, or a spooky hallway. They hurried back to the castle, flinching back from every sound they heard along the way.

  CHAPTER 19

  Hal and Laurel went straight to the castle’s guards as soon as they arrived back. It took a surprising amount of time for the guard captain to take their story seriously, and even then, he said little more than that he’d send some of his men out to look into it come morning.

  What unnerved Hal the most, as he mulled over the attack back in the safety of the guest lodge, was how empty the streets had been. It had been close to midnight, but that wasn’t all that late for a city the size of Meldence.

  He could understand the common folk being afraid enough over the disappearances to avoid the streets at night, but there hadn’t been any guards out, either. Was it due to a lack of properly paid men? Or was it a deliberate decision on the Maxim’s part, a way of keeping his guards out of danger, and to avoid losing trained soldiers to the monsters lurking in the night.

  Yua was worried near to tears over Laurel, and immedi
ately filled a bath for her once they’d returned to the guest lodge. Hal was unable to sleep, even knowing that he would have his first fight in the tournament the next morning. He spent an hour or so feeding and playing with Karnas, who still insisted on nipping at his fingers and hands whenever the opportunity arose.

  Hal only managed a few hours of sleep, and was close to exhausted the next morning. He arose to the sound of a familiar voice, and hurried to pull his clothes on so he could join the conversation in the sitting room.

  Cadrian stood across from Laurel, dressed in a grey tunic with matching leggings. Her hair was in its usual intricate braid, and her one remaining eye was entirely fixed on Karnas, who still wore the ridiculous shirt Laurel had fit over his wings.

  “Hello, Halrin,” said Cadrian.

  She had an odd expression on her face, and Hal instantly felt bad about not having told her about the dragon egg. He rubbed a hand down the back of his neck, feeling a bit like he had back when he’d shirked his duties given to him by his old master, Roth.

  “Look, I should have told you,” said Hal. “I was just… worried about how you might react if you saw that I was harboring a dragon egg.”

  Cadrian smiled, which caught him off guard.

  “It would have been easy for you to decide that the dragon deserved a similar fate to your own,” said Cadrian. “To destroy the egg, as the dragon destroyed your family.”

  “I guess,” said Hal. “But I made a deal with Aangavar. And… it just didn’t seem right.”

  “Many men do not have empathy on that level,” said Cadrian. “I am impressed. It’s a powerful thing, to forgive one’s enemy.”

  “I’m not so sure I would call it forgiveness,” said Hal. “More like placing blame where it’s due.”

  Cadrian nodded. Hal glanced over at Laurel, who’d put on a pink summer dress that looked like it would be a little cold for the season. She smiled, and Hal noticed how closely she was watching the interaction between him and Cadrian.

  “I thought you were away on business,” said Hal. “How did you end up in Meldence?”

  “My business was training a few noble lords and their elite soldiers with gemstones,” said Cadrian. “Most just go to the Temple for that kind of thing. But there are some who remain distrustful of the Keeper, and hesitate to enter his tower and submit themselves to his power.”

  “Training them?” said Hal, frowning a little. “Like… the training we do?”

  The passionate training. Fighting until our bodies are sweaty, and then falling into each other’s arms in the grass…

  Cadrian shook her head.

  “That is not something I can do openly,” said Cadrian. “For them, I teach the Temple’s methods, supplemented by a few emotional focusing techniques.”

  Her answer actually made Hal more curious. He’d never had anyone explain to him what the Temple of Lyris did to train gem holders, other than that they used a variety of herbs to draw emotional reactions out of people.

  “Can you teach me some of that?” asked Hal. “Even if it isn’t as useful as the true path, I’d like to be aware of what it entails.”

  “You are short on time, at the moment,” said Cadrian. “Laurel told me that you’re planning on fighting in the tournament.”

  Hal nodded.

  “Then you must hurry down to the tournament grounds,” said Cadrian. “All fighters need to check in and receive their fight number. The fights start shortly after dawn, each day.”

  “Right,” said Hal. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling more than a little fatigued from his lack of sleep.

  “And you’ll want to leave this behind.” Cadrian reached her hand out and pulled his gun loose from its holster. “You’ll end up with accusations of trickery if you bring it into the fights with you.”

  Hal nodded in agreement and reached into his to and pulled loose his heartgem, which was currently a deep red in color. Cadrian’s eyes went to it as he held it in its palm.

  “I presume you’ve found a way to keep your heartgem filled with ruby essence?” asked Cadrian.

  “Yeah,” said Hal. “That’s not an issue.”

  He hesitated, wondering if he’d just made a mistake by letting Cadrian know that he’d been intimate with someone other than her. Her expression was unreadable, but when her eye finally met his gaze, she didn’t look angry.

  “You should get moving immediately,” said Cadrian. “I must be on my way as well. I’ll watch your fight, if I can.”

  “Thanks,” said Hal. “Uh… Hopefully I’ll see you again soon?”

  Cadrian smiled, but said nothing. She disappeared out the door of the guest lodge, leaving Hal and Laurel alone.

  “You should at least eat something,” said Laurel. “Fighting on an empty stomach doesn’t seem like a good idea. Yua made breakfast before she went out, I’ll get you some.”

  Hal had some toast and a few spicy sausages, and then headed off with Laurel to the tournament grounds. He began to feel nervous as soon as they left the city, and he was able to get a good look at the size of the crowd that had turned out for the show.

  Most of the wooden stands were packed with people, and more stood on the grass in the space in between. The crowd broke out into a massive roar as the ongoing fight came to an end, one fighter knocking the other out of the sand arena circle, earning his victory.

  “Wow,” said Laurel. “It’s going to be a challenge for me to even find somewhere to sit!”

  Hal nodded, his mind elsewhere. The tent where he’d signed up originally looked to be where the fighters headed to wait for their turn.

  “I should get going,” he said. “Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck…” Laurel let her gaze linger on him, and for some reason, Hal’s mind jumped back to the previous night. They’d shared a moment, just before the husk had attacked. He’d been drunk, and she’d been emotional, but something had passed between them.

  She’s still looking at me. What… am I supposed to do?

  “I should get moving,” said Hal.

  “Right.” Laurel pushed forward and gave him a quick hug, and then hurried off to push her way up into the stands. Hal frowned, unsure if he liked the idea of her squeezing into the tight crowd on her own.

  He didn’t have time to waste, however. The next fight was already starting as he slipped through the tent’s flap. He recognized a few of the fighters from signups the day before, and felt the same overwhelming sense of being a small fish in the middle of a pack of sharks.

  There were already a few people waiting in line to learn the order of their fights, and Hal spent some time mingling with them. One of them was a burly man who seemed to be more interested in hawking special salves than preparing for his fight. Hal accepted a free sample of one that he thought might come in handy.

  “You’re late.” The fat, balding tent overseer finally waved him over, his mouth turned down in a frown. “All fighters are supposed to check in each morning. You can do your own thing if your fight isn’t until afternoon or evening, but if you don’t check in, you get skipped!”

  “Sorry,” said Hal. “This my first…”

  He trailed off in midsentence. There was an opening in the back of the tent through which the waiting warriors could observe the fight in progress. Hal’s eyes went wide as he recognized one of the combatants standing in the sand circle.

  It was the man in the golden helm. It was the man who’d been riding astride the dragon who had murdered Hal’s family.

  CHAPTER 20

  The tent overseer was still talking, but his words fell on deaf ears. All of Hal’s attention was locked onto the golden helmed warrior. He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t even begin to fathom how it was possible.

  I would recognize that helm anywhere. It’s him.

  The helm, itself, was probably worth a quarter of the tournament’s grand prize. It was solid gold, with only a thin eye slight, and an intricately carved mouth that was unnervingly realistic. It was the helm
of a rich nobleman, if not a king. It was one of a kind, and it belonged to the person who’d murdered Hal’s family.

  The golden helmed warrior was dancing around his opponent, a lithe man with a long spear. The fight had only just begun, and both combatants were putting on a show for the crowd. Hal was moving before he knew what he was doing, his hand clutching at his sword as he stormed toward the tent flap that would take him out into the arena.

  “Hey, hey, hey!” said the tent overseer. “Not so fast!”

  A guard stood on either side of the tent flap and they grabbed Hal as he attempted to approach, holding him back.

  “No vendettas,” said the tent overseer. “I don’t care who either of those people are to you. Settle it in the arena or you’ll be disqualified!”

  “You don’t understand!” said Hal. “That man. He…”

  One of the arena personnel was standing next to the sand circle with a flag, and finally lifted it into the air, signaling that the real fight could begin. Golden Helm spun forward with shocking speed, slicing his sword through his opponent’s spear and dealing the man a half dozen slashes to his chest, shoulders, and legs.

  “I… yield,” moaned the spearman, who was already collapsing into a bloody pile on the ground.

  The crowd roared with excitement. The guards still held Hal in place, and he could only watch as the arena announcer pronounced “The Golden Warrior” as the fight’s victor. Golden Helm didn’t come back to the tent, instead exiting out through an opening in between the wooden stands. Hal felt impotent, unable to do anything. Unable to take the revenge that he hadn’t realized he’d still wanted.

  “Hey.” The tent overseer snapped a finger in front of his face. “You’re up next. You wrote down your real name on the signup sheet. You were supposed to write down your battle name.”

  “Battle name?” Hal barely listening to him.

  “Are you a moron, or something?” asked the tent overseer. “What do you want the announcer to introduce you as.”