Ampris nodded in resignation. “Yes, Master Halehl.”
“Your opponents are Samparese—”
Ylea leaned back on the chain, snapping it taut, and roared loudly enough to shake the gate panels. The handlers perching on top of the fence drew up their dangling legs in sudden caution.
Ampris filed the information away. Samparese—a race used only in the arena—were tough opponents, nearly as big as Ylea, lithe, fluid, quick, utterly fearless, and nearly impossible to kill. Long-bodied with wedge-shaped heads atop muscular, sinuous necks, they had blunt, bewhiskered muzzles and razor-sharp fangs. But they did not work together well when paired, and that had to be an important advantage.
Unless, Ampris thought with a shiver, that advantage was balanced against the fact that she and Ylea did not work well when paired either.
When Ruar bent to open the battered case containing Ylea’s parvalleh, she knocked him sprawling and bent to grab it up herself. Brandishing it in her left hand, she roared and struck the gate panel with it, sending splinters flying.
“Ylea,” Halehl said in warning. “Save yourself for the arena. You will go in soon.”
Ylea roared again, but she stopped swinging the parvalleh.
Watching her act like this, Ampris felt her heart plummet to her feet. She did not think Ylea was going to be able to focus.
A beeping noise from overhead made them all look up. A wide disk-shaped qualifier scanner was floating above them, a red light flashing on its undercarriage.
Elrabin scuttled to one side and flattened himself against the gate panels in an unobtrusive corner. Ruar did the same on the other side. Halehl remained where he was, one hand resting lightly on the taut chain stretched between Ampris and Ylea. None of them moved until the scan was finished.
A yellow light flashed on, replacing the red, and the scanner hummed away.
Halehl flicked out his tongue and glanced at Ampris in visible relief. “Excellent. Now, both of you, listen to me.”
He was finishing his instructions when Elrabin darted up beside Ampris. While Halehl went on talking, smoothly stepping between Ampris and the surveillance cam mounted over the gate, Elrabin popped a boost globe into Ampris’s mouth.
For a moment the oily, slick surface of the globe slid across her tongue, then she bit it, and its sweetly sour contents splashed through her mouth in an intense burst of flavor.
A second later, her head grew marvelously clear and her senses heightened. She seemed to grow taller and stronger. All of her reflexes speeded up, and she seemed to notice everything at once with the greatest clarity.
Elrabin whisked her cloak from her shoulders and stepped away. Halehl’s eyes flashed at him in approval.
Ylea was slipped her boost globe, and soon her eyes were clear and surprisingly rational again. She stopped tugging on the chain like something demented and wiped the foam from her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Let’s go kill,” she said.
Ampris gave her a wary nod, hoping that in Ylea’s case the boost lasted. Sometimes it wore off too soon.
In the arena, the crowd was stamping on the benches, cheering and yelling in a swell of noise that drowned everything else out. At first it was just a roar, but then Ampris could hear a single word chanted over and over: “Ampris! Crimson Claw! Ampris!”
Ylea heard it too, and her ears went flat to her skull. Her eyes met those of Ampris, and sheer meanness raged in their depths.
The gate opened, but as they started out, Elrabin darted past Halehl and gripped Ampris by her harness. “Watch her,” he said breathlessly, his eyes wide with concern. “She’s going to turn on you.”
There was no time to react. Ampris kept going, matching Ylea’s eager stride, and Elrabin was dragged back and shut behind the closing gate.
They jogged through the shimmering barrier field that enclosed the interior of the arena. It blocked the signals to their restraint collars, or was supposed to. The arena officials kept trying to stop trainers from cheating, and the trainers kept thinking up ways around them.
Ylea’s steady growling swelled into a roar. Ampris’s own instincts fired up as well. She roared with Ylea, and the fearsome sound of two female Aarouns in battle cry reached above the cheering and silenced the crowd.
Ampris and Ylea broke into a run toward the center of the arena. As they came into view of the entire crowd, fresh cheering broke out, swelling as the spectators saw their weapons.
The Samparese females were not allowed to enter the arena until Ampris and Ylea reached the center.
“Go,” Ylea grunted, her gaze locked on their opponents.
Instead of stopping in the center of the arena and waiting for the Samparese to come to them, they kept running forward, straight at the other pair.
After a moment, the Samparese seemed to realize what was happening. One tried to bound forward. The other seemed to want to circle. Snarling and spitting at each other in argument, they drew their glaudoons and faced Ampris and Ylea.
Ampris snarled in joy. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was aware of Halehl’s soft voice murmuring to her from her collar. She knew then that while her restraint might be blocked, the secret communication feed still operated. Halehl was speaking the conditioning words, firing her blood, arousing her battle instincts, making her lust for blood.
Holding her parvalleh in her left hand, Ylea drew her dagger and gripped it in her right fist. They were running full tilt now. Ampris kept the pace easily, but knew that if Ylea did not slow down soon she would be spent before the battle started.
Then they met, the Aarouns’ greater momentum crashing them into the Samparese.
In well-trained unison, Ampris and Ylea swung their parvallehs back and forward. The lights reflected off the broad heads of the war hammers, making them glint and shine.
First blood for her weapon, Ampris thought. “Saa-vel harh!” she screamed, uttering the war cry she had learned at Bizsi Mo’ad.
Glaudoon steel crashed upon parvalleh iron, sending up an echoing clang that made the crowd gasp and rise. The Samparese, neither set nor braced for such a swift attack, stumbled back. One of them skidded off balance and nearly fell.
Ylea screamed and swarmed over her, pulling Ampris aside before she could finish a blow that would have crushed her opponent’s skull.
Furious, Ampris twisted in midair, gripping the chain that hampered her. She barely kept herself from landing on a Samparese dagger, and parried it with the broad side of her parvalleh.
Ylea was yelling curses as she was driven back, dragging Ampris with her. Drawing her dagger and finding both Samparese females close and furious now, Ampris went to work in feverish hand-to-hand fighting.
Blood splattered. Ampris, parrying and striking for all she was worth, had no idea who it belonged to; for all she knew, it might have been hers. Jabbing with the dagger in her left hand, she spun on her inside heel and swung the parvalleh around.
The Samparese opposite her, white-furred with beautiful patterns of black stripes, snarled something, blocking the swing of the parvalleh with her glaudoon.
Ylea twisted and jumped to one side, pulling Ampris off balance again. A Samparese dagger whistled a bare centimeter past Ampris’s arm. Furious, she snarled at Ylea, but Ylea only glanced at her and laughed.
The madness had returned to the big Aaroun’s eyes, and Ampris knew then that Elrabin’s warning was right. It was the last fight of the season, and Ylea meant to get rid of Ampris here and now.
Ampris told herself that there had to be a way to get through to Ylea, to convince her they were on the same side. They were both Aarouns; they should not be enemies. Perhaps during off-season, when they weren’t under constant training pressure, she and Ylea could talk, could maybe find some common ground.
But in the meantime, if she didn’t watch both Ylea and the Samparese, between them she was going to be dead meat.
Ampris ducked low beneath her chain, spinning around and this time yanking Ylea
off balance. Yelling her battle cry, Ampris swung her parvalleh low and straight, clipping her Samparese in the legs.
She heard the snap of bones, and the Samparese’s scream. Blood spurted in a high, crimson arc, and the Samparese went down in a crashing fall that pulled her partner down with her.
Ampris surged to her feet, pulling Ylea back into position with her. Now it was Ylea’s turn, the remaining opponent sprawling awkwardly with her glaudoon flailing as she tried to right herself. Ampris had served Ylea with an easy kill, like an offering of peace, the best gift she could think of for the veteran Aaroun.
Ylea roared and cracked open the wedge-shaped skull of the Samparese with her parvalleh. Lifting her war hammer aloft, she roared again.
It was over. Breathless, panting hard, Ampris sheathed her dagger and stood there next to her partner over their fallen opponents while she lifted her voice to roar in victory with Ylea.
Together they lifted their parvallehs, handling the heavy weapons as though they weighed nothing. The crowd threw coins and flowers at them, screaming accolades. Lights flashed across the top of the arena, filling the upper stands with dazzling arrays of color. Banners of blue waved here and there among the spectators. Some were leaping in the air, clutching their betting tickets like creatures gone mad.
“Crimson Claw! Crimson Claw!” the chant began, with the spectators stamping on their benches in unison.
Still panting hard, alight with triumph, Ampris stood side by side with Ylea and grinned at her. “It’s over,” she said. “We did it. We’re going to—”
Ylea’s eyes narrowed to slits. Twisting her large bulk with more agility than Ampris could have expected, she leaned close and plunged her dagger deep into Ampris’s side.
The pain took away Ampris’s breath. She could not move, could not cry out, could not even gasp. Her whole existence seemed frozen, held suspended on the blade of that dagger driven into her body. It felt immense, larger than anything she could imagine. The shock of it drove everything from her mind. She could not think, could not feel. Everything within her became the dagger in her side. She heard the thud of her parvalleh’s landing beside her feet, and only then realized she had dropped it.
Snarling, Ylea parted her jaws. “Yeah, it be over now,” she said. “Fancy hide, fancy moves. You got too fancy with Samparese, and Samparese dagger got you. So will I say when the master questions me.”
Little dots began to dance in Ampris’s vision. She heard what Ylea was saying, but her ears were roaring. With all her remaining will, she struggled not to pass out.
The crowd was still cheering, and now the vidcams came flying toward them. It was as though the cams had been caught unawares by the quickness of the combat and only now were coming this way. But maybe, Ampris thought hazily, maybe time was standing still while she was quickly—much too quickly—living out what was left of her life.
She gulped for air, feeling the strength fading from her legs.
Ylea released the dagger and lifted both hands to salute the crowd. Ampris gripped the haft with her hand, and for a strange, surreal instant she wondered how she came to be holding a dagger in her own side.
Then her thoughts stopped spinning dizzily, and she could think again, in short bursts of coherence.
Ylea reached for the dagger. “They coming now. Time to take what is mine.”
But her fingers curled around Ampris’s hand instead of the dagger hilt. Their eyes met and locked.
Ylea snarled. “You fool. You be finished.”
Ampris bared her teeth and lunged at Ylea’s face, snapping so fiercely Ylea leaned back. In that moment Ampris withdrew the dagger.
The sensation was horrible, indescribable. It felt as though she were pulling out her entire life force with it. Then the blade was finally clear, dripping blood. At the same time Ampris smelled it, hot and fresh, air hit her wound.
Pain ripped through her like fire, but it also cleared away the fog.
At such close quarters, Ylea could not use her parvalleh. She dropped it on the ground and reached for the dagger sheathed at Ampris’s side.
Ampris, however, struck fast and hard, gashing Ylea’s arm. Ylea screamed and yanked it back. Ampris lunged at her, plunging the dagger down through the harness buckled around Ylea’s hips. The blade sliced through the heavy leather, and chain and harness swung free, dangling from Ampris’s hip now.
Ylea roared and darted around her like something gone mad. She grabbed up a glaudoon from the dead hand of a Samparese and turned on Ampris.
In that small moment of opportunity, Ampris should have thrown the dagger into her throat, but a wave of dizziness made her hesitate, and the moment was lost.
From the corner of her eye, Ampris saw handlers racing toward them. She heard Halehl’s agitated voice coming from her collar, giving her instructions she could not hear.
Some individuals in the crowd were screaming. Others went on cheering. A siren blared warnings, and the vidcams hovered closer overhead.
Ampris braced herself, but Ylea hit her at full charge, toppling her over like straw and driving her to the ground. The pain flashed white in Ampris’s mind, obliterating everything, and yet Ampris knew she could not surrender to it. She rolled, by instinct alone, and by the time she got her vision and senses back, she found Ylea pinning her legs and swinging the glaudoon.
As long as they were inside the arena, there was no way Halehl could use his restraint mechanism in their collars. There was no way he could pull Ylea off. Ampris was on her own.
She raised her dagger and parried Ylea’s glaudoon, although the impact jolted the bones in her wrist and hand. With steel grinding against steel, they strained against each other, snarling ferociously. Ampris held on, refusing to give way to Ylea’s strength, feeling blood still leaking from her side, weakening her more with every passing second. She groped with her other hand, her fingers digging into the sand. Then she threw a handful of the stuff in Ylea’s eyes.
Screaming, Ylea reeled back, clawing at her eyes and slinging her head from side to side. Had she been sane, such a trick would not have rattled her. But Ylea was past all control or sanity now. Still screaming with her eyes clenched shut, she hacked blindly with the glaudoon.
Rolling free of that dangerous blade, Ampris struggled to get her feet under her. From behind her she heard shouts, but she wasn’t going to stop.
This was what she knew. This was what she had been trained to do.
She staggered up, took one step toward Ylea, nearly fell, and barely caught herself.
Ylea spun around on her knees, blinking open her streaming eyes. Finding Ampris, she uttered a feral cry that made the hair stand up on Ampris’s spine, then drove her blade at Ampris’s midsection.
Wind as air . . . Teinth’s instructions came back to her from that day early in training. All season Ampris had had no occasion to use the move. But now, in the moment of Ylea’s lunge, Ampris knew it was the only maneuver that could save her.
Without further thought, she tucked her arms to her side, holding the dagger tight, and did not let herself think that it was too short for her purposes. She leaped, twisting her body up and over Ylea’s blade a split second before it could hit her. For a moment she hung suspended, in time and in space, seeing the lights reflected on Ylea’s glaudoon, seeing the blood-splattered fur beneath Ylea’s crazed eyes, seeing the pretty gold cartouche of Lord Galard’s name swinging from Ylea’s ear. Only Ylea wore the cartouche, marking her as team leader. Everyone else, Ampris included, wore a plain iron ring with Galard’s name stamped inside it.
That was the last detail Ampris noticed before time shifted into normal speed again. Before she was ready, before she realized she must thrust her arm forward, she crashed headfirst into Ylea’s throat, knocking the bigger Aaroun down.
Ylea heaved once beneath her weight, nearly throwing Ampris off, then lay still.
Ampris, stunned by the tackle, lay there as well, unable to find her wits, unable to catch her breath.
The black spots were dancing around her again, clouding her vision. She told herself she had to get up, had to move if she wanted to live.
With a groan, she pulled herself upright just as the handlers reached her.
One of them carried a long pole with a noose on the end. Seeing it in a confused blur as they surrounded her, Ampris flung wide her hands in surrender and did not move.
Only then did she see her dagger, buried haft-deep, in Ylea’s throat. Ylea’s eyes stared at the ceiling of the arena, sightless and already dull with the film of death. They were crazed no more.
“Get back from her!” one of the handlers shouted. “Get back!”
They crowded closer with whips and the noose, and behind them hurried another figure, tall and Viis-thin. It was Halehl, actually running, with his subtrainers at his heels.
“Get back from the body,” a handler said to her, shaking his whip in readiness to lash her with it.
Ampris did not obey. She did not move at all. Tipping back her head, she sucked in air greedily, but it did not seem to be enough to keep the black spots away.
Then there was darkness around her.
Then there was nothing.
CHAPTER•TEN
In the summer, when heat baked the skin and the air lay still and thick, Israi’s imperial river barge came sailing into the harbor of Malraaket. Capital of the southern continent, the city dated from ancient days, when it had been a spice and trading center, an exporter and importer of exotic goods. Today, it was a modern port city, with a crescent of receiving docks and warehouses curving into the wilderness away from the ancient, seaward side, where old buildings of stone arches and spires stood clad with age and history. According to Lord Huthaldraril, who had accompanied her on this journey, Malraaket today served as the principal port of call for all Viisymel. Malraaket was the true center of commerce for the homeworld, just as Vir served as the center of government.
Lord Huthaldraril droned on, but Israi tuned him out, refusing to listen to his lectures. The pedant was far from old in terms of his actual life cycle, but he had a soul dried to dust by his love of history.
The Crimson Claw Page 16
