A New Hero

by Curtis Jobling

  From there it was a short sneak through one of the disused beast pens that were situated beneath the sand. Again, the Shield Maiden had helped here, knowing the layout of the tunnels beneath the arena better than anyone thanks to her days spent fighting for the amusement of Boarhammer. On occasion, and for added spice, the Skull Army would unleash creatures upon the gladiators, but that was a rarity. Of the eight pens that dotted the arena, Erika had guaranteed them that this one would be empty, as it had been turned into a storeroom.

  Adjoining the pen they would find the slave cavern and, hopefully, their friends. Then it was simply a case of freeing the imprisoned warriors and launching a surprise assault on Boarhammer from within. They wouldn’t even need to enter the arena; once they were in the marble halls and staircases of the coliseum, their victory should be a formality. Simple. Trick shuddered, still wondering how he’d found himself in this mess.

  He glanced down as he climbed. His rope trailed below him, and the dim figure of a thief was visible four metres beneath him, illuminated by the hooded lantern that hung from Trick’s belt. Its light flickered, the fuel just about exhausted. That was no surprise: they had been climbing for hours – throughout the morning – desperate to reach the Upper City before noon, for that was the allotted time for the contest to begin. According to Zuma, blood would be spilled in Boarhammer’s arena once the sun was directly above Sea Forge.

  Trick scrambled on, allowing his companions above to haul him upward. His thighs burned with the exertion, and his muscles ached with exhaustion. The lantern died its death now, the oil spent. High above he could hear a commotion, the sound of battle. The rope went slack suddenly, jarring Trick and knocking the lantern off the hook on his belt.

  ‘Look out below!’ he shouted as it bounced off the tunnel walls, shattering and showering hot glass over those who followed. There was no more progress on the rope. No more hauling from above. With a grunt and a groan, Trick dug his heels in and started to climb.

  It was treacherous going. His hands were tattered, fingers useless, as all his adrenalin seemed spent. Trick used his fists, his knees and his elbows to clamber, putting every body part to work. Even his butt helped to anchor him as he wriggled and squirmed up the sewage-filled passageway.

  Occasionally he felt those below slowing his progress as his rope went taut. His quarterstaff, shoved through a loop of leather on his belt, caught against the rocks. Ravenblade fared no better, the bird’s-head pommel striking stone where it was stowed in a scabbard on his hip. Then above he saw a light, the mouth of the tunnel illuminated by sunlight. Trick hurried on, desperate to cover the remaining distance to the open air and the summit.

  He emerged like a grub from the ground, coated in stinking slop and scores of scratches. Trick rolled on to his back and turned his head, coming face-to-face with the fellow who had been climbing ahead of him. The thief’s eyes were wide, as was his stomach, his innards splashed across the floor. Trick squealed, shuffling clear as he looked around the chamber they’d arrived in.

  The ludus was situated in a natural cavern beneath the arena, and the ground was littered with training apparatus and weapon racks. The embers of burnt-out fires smouldered in braziers around the room, the ludus having been abandoned, as Erika had said. Well, almost abandoned. The sewage chute they’d scrambled up had deposited Trick and his companions in the latrine, and there they had encountered a trio of Skull Army gladiators paying a last visit to the toilets before the glorious fight.

  It had been a badly timed visit for both Boarhammer’s warriors and the luckless thief who’d been killed in the subsequent melee. Two of the gladiators lay dead, dispatched by Zuma and Kuro. Trick wriggled clear of the tunnel mouth in time to see the third drop to his knees, with Erika’s sword buried in his back. As he collapsed to the cold stone floor, she gave her weapon a twist, wrenching the blade free from her foe.

  ‘Nothing’s ever straightforward, is it?’ said the Shield Maiden, flicking blood from the sword as she stalked across the ludus towards a great wooden door.

  ‘Are you unharmed, Master Hope?’ asked Kuro, reaching down to help Trick to his feet while more thieves began to emerge from the tunnel. Zuma and Kazumi assisted, dragging and lifting a steady stream of footpads and street ruffians out of the terrible sewer.

  ‘Don’t worry about me, mate,’ said Trick, glancing down at the dead thief. ‘What was his name?’

  ‘Periwinkle,’ said another brutish-looking thief who appeared beside them. ‘And he was an idiot.’

  ‘That’s no way to speak of the dead,’ said Kuro. ‘That man gave his life for our cause.’

  ‘You’re noble all of a sudden, ninja. It don’t suit you.’

  ‘A man can change, Blocker.’

  ‘Yeah? Well, that don’t change the fact that Periwinkle was an idiot in life, and now he’s an idiot in death.’ He spat on the ground. ‘I ain’t gonna shed a tear for his loss. More booty for the rest of us to share out.’

  Trick recognized Blocker now. He was one of the rogues who’d been closer to Gorgo than the others, probably a lieutenant or some such in the guildmaster’s little army. Trick wasn’t entirely convinced that Blocker shared his vision of a fairer, more caring Sea Forge for all.

  ‘What happened to honour among thieves?’ asked Trick. ‘Periwinkle was a brother, wasn’t he? A member of your noble guild. He deserves something more than a sneer and a spit, doesn’t he?’

  ‘He was a prat for going first with you and your warriors. If he’d had any smarts, he’d have hung back with me and the others, let you guys soak up any trouble in advance.’

  Trick shook his head as the man strutted past. ‘Wow. Do all thieves just look out for number one?’

  Kuro considered Blocker carefully. ‘They’re not all like Blocker. He has more in common with his old master than you’d like to think.’

  Now the gladiators were dead, Gorgo’s former lieutenant was finding his voice and flexing his muscles, showing his fellow thieves that he was the closest thing the guild had to a new leader. He joined Erika by the wooden door, as the Viking held her ear to it.

  ‘This the door through to the old pen, then?’

  Erika looked him up and down and nodded.

  ‘Stand aside then, girlie,’ said Blocker. ‘We’ll take it from here.’

  Erika stepped away from the door. ‘After you, big man.’

  Blocker pulled a crooked shortsword out of his belt as his closest comrades gathered round him. There were only a handful who looked up to the man.

  ‘Beyond this door, we’ll be into the coliseum proper. These guys want to take the fight to Boarhammer. Don’t get in their way. You see anything of value, grab it. Anyone gives you trouble, you shiv ’em.’ He gave his shortsword a twist in the air to drive home the point. ‘We regroup back here in an hour’s time. You got me?’

  His cronies nodded, eyes lighting up greedily at the prospect of the booty they might get their hands on. Trick shook his head. They were better off without selfish swines like Blocker on their side. The big man grabbed the door handle.

  ‘With me, lads!’ he said, grinning as he threw open the door.

  The grin remained on his face for only the briefest moment. An enormous scaly foot shot out from the chamber beyond, raking Blocker from head to toe. He teetered for a moment, face in ribbons, shocked and stunned, before the clawed limb seized him and yanked him into the pen. Only a fine spray of red mist remained where Gorgo’s lieutenant had stood a second ago.

  Erika twirled her sword and lifted her shield. ‘Nothing’s ever straightforward,’ she repeated, and followed the dead thief into the room beyond.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Trick hung back as Kazumi, Kuro and Zuma followed the Shield Maiden into the beast pen. So much for it being unoccupied, he mused anxiously. He clutched his quarterstaff in both hands, willing his courage to the fore as the sound of battle began to build. Blocker’s companions looked less confident now, backing away from the door as
other, braver thieves joined the heroes on the threshold. No sooner had the last man passed through the door than he was flung out once again, struck by a mighty blow, his broken body skidding along the floor and knocking more thieves off their feet.

  ‘Right you are,’ said Trick, unable to allow any more men to die in his name while he stood idly by. He raised the staff and dashed into the beast pen.

  Daylight shone down from overhead through a ceiling grille, illuminating the chaos below. A great horned lizard, as tall as an elephant, filled the cavernous chamber, its six legs stamping the earth in fury as it lashed out at those who had invaded its holding pit. Zuma and Erika were on its back, hacking at it repeatedly with frenzied flurries, while Kuro hung beneath it, his katana buried in its throat.

  Trick looked at the sword on his belt – Ravenblade – its black bird-headed handle poking out of the scabbard on his hip. The others had insisted he carry it into battle, even though he didn’t intend to use it. No. He wasn’t about to unsheathe it and jump into the melee. He was a school kid from London at the end of the day; he’d be as likely to kill himself or a friend as harm the monster. He brought his attention back to the giant lizard just in time to dive clear of its thrashing tail. Then Kazumi was on the ground, her footing lost as the beast moved in, its jaws wide open.

  ‘This way, you big dumb lizard,’ Trick shouted, the words out of his mouth before he’d even thought about it. He struck the staff on the ground, and the hollow pole sent sharp, echoing cracks bouncing off the rough-hewn walls of the pen. The monster followed him, turning away from Kazumi and advancing, while the heroes still clung to it, stabbing and slashing. Trick hit a wall as the lizard’s jaws yawned open again, displaying rows of serrated teeth coated with scraps of torn and bloody flesh – the remains of Blocker, Trick figured.

  The boy ducked as the beast’s head struck the wall. Trick dived to one side as the giant reptile pursued him. He’d bought his friend just enough time. Kazumi suddenly leapt out of the chamber’s shadows, her naginata raised high before she thrust it down into one of the reptile’s bulging eyes. Then Kuro was moving, ripping his katana out of the monster’s throat as he rolled clear.

  Bright green blood poured out after each attack, spraying the pen’s floor as the behemoth collapsed on to its side. Zuma and Erika jumped clear as the lizard’s long tail flickered and trembled like a rattlesnake in its death throes. Then the beast was still; the warriors were victorious.

  The ninja stepped round the lizard’s body, flicking green gloop off his katana as he offered to help Trick to his feet. The boy waved him away.

  ‘I’m fine, Kuro. Are you though?’

  The ninja was probably smiling beneath his black mask as he replied. ‘Always good to stretch one’s muscles ahead of a battle. Our reptilian friend has provided us with the perfect warm-up.’ He slid his katana back into its scabbard on his back, before his eyes rested upon the black bird-headed sword on Trick’s hip. ‘Is she going to stay in there all day?’

  ‘Don’t you worry about Ravenblade,’ said the boy, stepping over to the slain monster. ‘I know exactly what I’m going to do with her. In the meantime I have my staff to protect me.’

  He looked up at the roof of the cavern, where the huge grille separated them from the sand of the arena. Iron bars criss-crossed the entrance to the pit, hinged along one edge by an enormous mechanism. The Thieves’ Guild maps and Erika’s directions hadn’t let them down. The sewer had brought them up through the cliffs and right into the heart of Boarhammer’s playground. At the allotted time, the caged roof would descend, providing the resident horror its means of escape and access into the arena.

  ‘I thought you said this pen would be unoccupied?’ said Trick.

  ‘That was news to me too,’ said Erika. ‘This chamber was a storeroom when I fought for Boarhammer. Makes me wonder … There were eight such pits in the arena, equidistant from each other; does each now contain its own horror?’

  Trick gulped, doubt now nagging at him. He had imagined that their main threat would come from the gladiators who were paid to fight for Boarhammer, his champions recruited from the Skull Army. Those brutes were stone-cold killers, murderers who were paid to deal death in the arena. What’s more, they loved their work. However, it appeared that there would be more than one monster joining them in the dust if this beast pen was anything to go by. The fight was becoming more daunting with each passing moment. The other warriors gathered round Trick, leaving the ever-growing horde of thieves to gather at their backs. Erika pointed to the rear of the chamber.

  ‘That, my furious friends, is another problem.’

  They all nodded. Even Trick saw it.

  A portcullis blocked their exit from the room, running from the ceiling to the floor.

  ‘Um, is that supposed to be there?’ asked Trick.

  Erika shook her head. ‘Another recent modification. That gate is there to protect the beast keepers from the monsters in their charge,’ she said, giving the lizard’s corpse a boot. ‘I’ve no idea how it’s operated, and it bars our passage to the slave cavern. I’m sorry. I wasn’t to know this would happen.’

  Zuma muttered a curse under his breath.

  ‘Was that directed at me?’ hissed the Shield Maiden.

  ‘And if it was? What then?’ said the Jaguar Warrior defiantly.

  ‘Can we not bicker,’ sighed Kazumi, as Trick stepped up to the portcullis to inspect it.

  How on earth were they supposed to reach Toki, Mungo and all the other prisoners now? They had intended to pass straight through here, enter the coliseum and cause havoc. Now they were trapped in a pit with a dead lizard, going nowhere fast. Trick looked at the iron gate, sizing it up. The gaps between the bars were too narrow for a brute like Zuma – or even Erika – to fit between. Not even Kuro would fit. There was only one among them who could get through and continue on to the slave cavern.

  Trick thought for a moment. If he stayed behind in the pit until the roof grille descended, then it put the kibosh on all their plans. Trick had wanted to liberate the prisoners – including Toki and Mungo – who were shackled in the arena awaiting their death. Trick had wanted to speak to the crowd, to give them a chance to repent and disappear before the bloodshed and madness started. Trick had wanted to speak to Boarhammer, to give him a chance to surrender. He couldn’t do any of that from the pit. Once the ramp had descended, all hell would break loose above and it would be every man and woman for themselves.

  ‘I’ll go on alone,’ said Trick quietly, but his words were missed by the others who bickered behind him. ‘ I said I’ll go on to the slave cavern.’

  ‘Quiet,’ hissed Kuro to the others, silencing them as the mob of thieves watched nervously. ‘You’ll go through this gate alone? Are you sure, Master Hope?’

  ‘I’m the only one who’ll fit through the bars,’ said the schoolboy. ‘It has to be me. Besides, if I am the Black Moon Warrior, isn’t it time I pulled my weight?’

  He was joking of course, but the others took his words seriously. ‘That’s the spirit,’ said Erika, clapping him on the back.

  ‘Stay in the shadows, Master Hope,’ said Kuro. ‘Remember all I’ve told you. Step lightly, strike swiftly – the darkness is your friend.’

  ‘Right you are,’ said Trick, rolling his eyes.

  ‘When the roof descends,’ said Zuma, ‘we shall be by your side!’

  ‘I know. Until then I’m on my own,’ added the boy.

  ‘We’ll be right behind you, Trick,’ said Kazumi.

  ‘Yeah, behind this portcullis,’ he said, handing his gear to Zuma before slowly squeezing between the bars. His ribs felt like they might split as he turned his head sideways, his ears and skull scraping against the rusted iron. He could hear the crowd above, their cheers and chants. Trick could feel his insides gnawing away with anxiety at the task that lay ahead. Perhaps if this were all a dream, and he climbed into the arena, a well-placed blow from an enemy’s axe might be just the thing to wak
e him up. A violent jolt to stir him from this mother-of-all-nightmares. He fell through to the other side of the portcullis and turned back to his comrades.

  Or perhaps it might just kill him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The guards stood at the gate to the slave cavern, rattling their swords against the lowered portcullis. While one held a guttering torch in his hand – the flame illuminating his pockmarked face – his companion couldn’t resist taunting their prisoners.

  ‘Don’t worry, boys and girls,’ said the Skull Army veteran. ‘Your moment in the sun is just round the corner. We’re taking you up top any moment. If I were you, I’d say my goodbyes now.’

  His friend laughed, giving him a dig in the back, as the pair of them walked away, returning to their guard room. Only when they had gone did Trick separate himself from the shadows. He peeled away from the darkness, having been hidden mere metres away from the pair of bullies.

  He danced lightly down the corridor, his sure-footed parkour skills carrying him smoothly and silently towards the portcullis. It was just like the one in the beast pen. Perhaps it was operated by a lever in the guard room? He glanced towards the light that flickered round the corner of the corridor. No, he wasn’t about to pursue that theory. Unbuckling his belt, he passed it through the bars, followed by his staff. Beyond, through the rails, he could see pale eyes watching him. Frightened eyes.