Gates of Ruin (Magelands Eternal Siege, #6)

by Christopher Mitchell

  He gave her a smile. ‘You can sit with us if you want.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Sable.

  ‘Is this your first visit to the Northern Pits?’

  ‘Yes. How did you know?’

  ‘You look a little lost. You come to see the new dragon?’

  Sable nodded.

  ‘It’s a disgrace, isn’t it? The damn Deadskins get a second dragon, while we’ve only got one, and the idiot Bloodflies haven’t got any. I heard that the normal rules are going to be ignored today.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Well, usually, the fights are stopped before any dragon gets killed, but not today. Our boys are under instructions to kill the new beast if they can. That’ll teach the Fordian assholes not to cheat.’

  The group Sable was walking with entered a large plaza in front of the huge, stone arena. Buildings around it had been damaged from a recent earthquake, but the arena was still standing. A few Blue Thumbs supporters were picking up bricks and stones from the piles of rubble that lay by the edge of the plaza, and Deadskins supporters were doing the same thing on the far side of a thick line of militia.

  ‘Stick with us after the game,’ said the man who had been speaking to her; ‘it’s going to get rough tonight.’

  * * *

  It took nearly an hour to get from the plaza to their seats inside the arena. A quarter of the spectators were Torduans, while the rest of the stone benches were occupied by green-sashed Fordians. The man she had been speaking to was part of a group of around a dozen Blue Thumbs supporters, and she sat among them, trying to blend in. She recognised one or two other supporters as friends or associates of Gantu, and kept her head down. The executions had just finished when they found their seats, and the sands were being cleared of body parts by slaves with baskets.

  ‘Here we go,’ said the man, rubbing his hands together as a double line of blue-sashed warriors entered the arena from a gate.

  The massed Fordians booed and jeered at their arrival on the sands, while the Torduans let out a cheer. Sable’s eyes glanced around the arena. To their left, high up on a raised seating platform, three gods were sitting. She knew two – Felice, the new governor, and Latude, the former. Between them was sitting a third god, whom she didn’t recognise.

  ‘Who’s that in the middle?’ she said.

  ‘That’s Arete, the Seventh Ascendant,’ the man said. ‘I saw her at the games last month, when we hosted the Deadskins.’

  Sable stared at the Ascendant for a moment. Part of her felt a little guilty that she and the others would be leaving Lostwell without defeating the Ascendants first. After all, Corthie and Kelsey were still in Khatanax, and her niece was being hunted. She wondered how they would react when they learned that she, Blackrose and the others had abandoned them. It wasn’t her problem, she told herself, despite the chiding voice in her head. She had never been accepted as a Holdfast, so why should she help them now?

  Her attention went back to the arena as several other gates opened and a greenhide emerged from each. They ran onto the sand then jerked back, the chains linking their ankles to the walls of the arena going taut as they strained to get at the blue-sashed warriors. Half of the greenhides, Sable noticed, were daubed in blue paint, the other half in bright green. The volume inside the arena rose as the Blue Thumb warriors arranged themselves in the centre of the sands, then a chant of ‘Obsidia, Obsidia’ rose up from the benches where the Fordians were sitting. A huge gate was opened, and the head of the black dragon appeared to a roar from the crowd.

  ‘There it is,’ said the man next to Sable. ‘By all the gods, I hope it dies today; filthy reptile.’

  Sable watched as Blackrose strode out into the arena. Her jaws were clamped within an iron muzzle, and chains were attached to her wings and her rear limbs, leaving only her front limbs free. Even so, it was clear to everyone in the crowd that she was a formidable creature, and a few of the Blue Thumbs supporters quietened in awe.

  Sable tried to think of her next step. Her entire plan had been discarded, and she cursed herself for not taking one of the many opportunities to free Blackrose that had been presented to her. She could have sneaked into the training facility during the night and rescued her that way, but no; now she was going to have to attempt something that, even by her own standards, was ridiculously reckless.

  On the benches just down from where the three gods were sitting, an announcer stood up, his hands raised for silence.

  ‘Today,’ he cried, his voice reaching every part of the arena, ‘in the presence of the blessed Seventh Ascendant, we shall be witnessing the first contest of the new Deadskins’ dragon – Obsidia!’

  The crowd roared again, and many got to their feet, their fists punching the air. The Blue Thumb warriors lined up in front of the three gods and bowed their heads, then they turned to face the dragon. Several were armed with spears and long pikes, and all were clad in thick armour. Blackrose tilted her head at them, then waited. Just out of range on all sides, the greensides shrieked and snapped their claws together, desperate for anything to get close enough for them to kill.

  The warriors began to advance, spreading out into an arc in front of Blackrose, their long steel-tipped pikes extended. On the right, four of them rushed forwards, and Blackrose raised her forelimb to defend herself. As soon as her attention was distracted, the warriors on the left launched a barrage of spears at her flank. Most were turned by the thick black scales, but two bit deep and the dragon cried out.

  ‘Come on!’ screamed the man next to Sable, his eyes bulging and his fists clenched. ‘Kill her!’

  Blackrose swiped out with her left forelimb, and one of the warriors was sent flying backwards from the blow. He landed between two greenhides, who ripped him to shreds in seconds as the crowd roared. A large net was flung at the dragon, covering her head and tangling the claws of her right forelimb, and the warriors charged forward, their pikes levelled. Blackrose retreated a few feet, but a greenhide attacked her from the rear, its teeth and claws tearing into her long tail.

  Sable swallowed, and her hand moved towards the Quadrant. She pulled off the cloak, the copper-coloured device clutched in her left hand, and readied herself.

  Someone tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Hey, you.’

  She turned, blinking.

  Three angry-looking men were standing to her right.

  ‘You used to go with Gantu, didn’t you?’ said one. ‘It was you that got him killed, so I heard.’

  ‘Who?’ she said. ‘Never heard of him.’

  ‘Liar,’ spat one of the men. ‘I used to see you every day in Gantu’s apartment building. You ran off with that little rat Millen.’

  ‘You’ve got the wrong woman, lads,’ she said.

  ‘I even remember your weird accent,’ he said. He turned to a larger group of supporters a few benches away. ‘Boys, it’s Sable. The bitch has come back.’

  One of the men tried to grab her shoulder, and she powered her battle-vision and shoved him away. She sprang to her feet, and edged down the stone steps as dozens of faces turned to see what the commotion was.

  ‘Get her!’ cried someone. ‘Throw her to the greenhides!’

  She turned and ran, bounding down the steps towards the low parapet that surrounded the arena. She shoved a man carrying a tray of drinks out of her way, sending him and the wine crashing to the benches behind her, then reached the parapet and stopped, turning. A large group were charging down the steps after her, their eyes shining with hatred. Sable gulped, climbed up onto the top of the parapet, and jumped.

  She fell a dozen feet through the air, then landed in the sand less than a yard from a greenhide. It lunged at her, its thick talons cleaving the air as she pushed herself backwards. The attention of the majority of the crowd was still focussed on the dragon, but many were now gazing down at Sable as she dodged the claws of the greenhide. She rolled forwards under another lunge of claws, and picked up a spear that had been thrown at Blackrose, her lef
t hand still clutching the Quadrant. She raced away from the greenhide, and ran towards the flank of the dragon. Blackrose was bleeding from several wounds, and the heads of two spears were still embedded into her side. The shackles round her rear limbs were preventing her from being able to reach the warriors, who were darting forward with their pikes, and then retreating again before she could attack them. One of the warriors saw Sable, and stared at her for a moment open-mouthed, and Blackrose ripped him in two with her claws.

  The roar from the crowd increased as more people saw Sable down on the sands. A warrior tried to grab her, but she jabbed the spear into his face and he fell screaming to his knees. Boos started to resound from the stone benches from both sets of supporters, and the announcer stood, his hands in the air as he tried to quieten the crowd. Arete was leaning forward in her seat, staring at Sable, her eyes wide.

  ‘You?’ bellowed Blackrose as she turned her neck to look down at Sable. ‘I ought to kill you.’

  ‘Shut up, you stupid lizard,’ cried Sable as she reached the side of the dragon.

  A warrior drove a pike at her. She dodged, but the blade ripped through the sleeve on her right arm, scoring her skin in a thin line of red. The arena was in uproar. All three of the gods were on their feet, trying to have the games halted, and Arete was pointing down at the Quadrant in Sable’s hand.

  ‘If you intend to use that thing,’ said Blackrose, her eyes glowing like fiery embers, ‘then do it now.’

  Sable dropped the spear and slid her fingers over the device. The air shimmered, and the tomb materialised around them. Maddie screamed in surprise, then Sable noticed that one of the Blue Thumb warriors had also made the journey to the Catacombs. He was gripping onto a pike, the point of which was buried deep into Blackrose’s right flank. The dragon turned, and brought down one of her forelimbs, crushed him into the floor of the cavern.

  Sanguino poked his head out into the tunnel, his green eyes wide, as Millen and Maddie stared.

  Sable put her hands on her knees, panting, her heart pounding.

  Maddie ran towards Blackrose as if a spell had been broken, then she burst into tears as she hugged the dragon’s forelimb. Millen shook his head, staring at the wounds on the dragon’s flank. Then he noticed the dead warrior.

  ‘That’s Kelito!’ he cried. ‘You killed the captain of the Blue Thumbs.’

  ‘Welcome back,’ said Sanguino; ‘we have missed you.’

  ‘I have missed you too,’ said Blackrose. ‘Please remove the chains and the muzzle.’

  Maddie stepped back from the dragon, her face wet with tears, then she and Millen pulled the chains from her back, releasing her wings. They then removed the iron muzzle, and Blackrose stretched her jaws.

  ‘You’re hurt,’ said Maddie. ‘Are you hungry? What do you need?’

  Blackrose lowered her head and nuzzled Maddie’s shoulder. ‘We shall speak soon, rider, but before I say anything else, there is something I must do.’

  She lunged out with her claws and gripped Sable tight, making her drop the Quadrant to the ground, then she strode to the edge of the tomb and launched herself into the air. Sable tried to squirm in the dragon’s grasp, but the grip was so tight it was hard to breathe, and then she was dangling over the lava-filled valley as Blackrose soared into the bright sky. The dragon turned south, and they raced over the mountains, then began to cross the barren desert of the Fordian Wastes. Sable kept struggling, but it was useless, and her fear started to grow.

  They flew on, passing mile after mile of nothing but the scorched and parched wastelands, until Blackrose began to descend. She dropped Sable while she was still a few yards above the ground, and the Holdfast woman fell, and rolled onto her side, gasping in pain.

  ‘You treacherous liar,’ said Blackrose, hovering above her.

  ‘What?’ said Sable. ‘I don’t understand; I saved you.’

  ‘You selfish insect; how long have you been in possession of a Quadrant? And do not even think of lying to me again. If you do, I will kill you.’

  Sable pushed herself up from the rocky ground, another lie poised on her lips. She stopped herself. Somehow, the dragon knew.

  ‘I’ve had one since I first arrived in the Catacombs,’ she said. ‘I stole it from Alea Tanton before I came to find you.’

  The dragon’s eyes filled with rage, and fire licked around her jaws. Sable edged back, fear almost paralysing her. For a moment, she thought her life was about to come to an end, but the torrent of flames never came.

  ‘And Maddie?’ said Blackrose, her voice twisted by anger. ‘Did she also know?’

  ‘Yes, but it was my fault. I made her keep quiet about it. If you’re going to kill anyone, then kill me, not her.’

  ‘You will die, Holdfast witch,’ Blackrose said, ‘but not by my fire or claws. You are over a hundred miles from the Catacombs; the Fordian Wastes shall be your grave, and may rats pick over your flesh when you fall to the ground, dying of thirst. I hope your end is an agonising one.’

  She beat her wings and rose back into the sky, circled once, then raced off for the north.

  Sable gazed around. Nothing but flat, featureless wastes surrounded her in all directions. She had no water, or food, and the sun was beating down mercilessly upon her. She patted her pockets and found a pack of cigarettes.

  She lit one, and began walking.

  Chapter 13

  Plan, Interrupted

  A lea Tanton, Tordue, Western Khatanax – 21st Luddinch 5252

  Queen Emily smiled from the couch where she sat. ‘You’ve certainly given us much to think about, Belinda. It’s hard to believe that it’s only been a few months since you were last here in Cuidrach Palace, and harder still to believe all that has occurred on Lostwell in that time. We ought to have foreseen that salve would continue to cause us problems, but the news is worse than we could have imagined.’

  The small audience chamber fell into silence. To Emily’s right, King Daniel was frowning, a worried expression colouring his face, while to her left, Princess Yendra was standing, the Axe of Rand slung over one shoulder. Through the wide bay windows behind them, the sky was invisible due to a thick blanket of mist that was covering the City – the Fog of Balian.

  Belinda sat still, the Quadrant resting on her knees.

  ‘And your proposal,’ said Daniel, ‘how would it work in practice?’

  ‘I suggest that you excavate a huge amount of salve, several tons if possible,’ Belinda said, ‘and then I shall transport it to Lostwell and allow the gods to take it. A large enough quantity could keep them satisfied for centuries.’

  ‘But,’ said Daniel, ‘didn’t the City used to receive champions in exchange for the salve? Are you saying that we should hand it over, free of charge?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘It sounds a little like extortion to me. Would we not effectively be paying off a group of bullies? And if so, what’s to stop them coming back for more?’

  ‘If that’s the price for stopping them from overwhelming your world,’ said Belinda, ‘then I think it’s worth paying.’

  ‘It’s blackmail,’ said Daniel, ‘plain and simple.’

  Emily glanced at him, her eyes troubled. ‘How long will you be staying in the City, Belinda?’

  ‘An hour was all I had, and most of that has now passed.’

  ‘That’s a pity,’ she said. ‘I do not believe we’ll be able to come to a decision in that time.’

  ‘I tend to agree with his Majesty; this sounds like blackmail,’ said Yendra. ‘Is there anything that the gods of this Implacatus could offer us as payment for the salve?’

  ‘Such as?’ said Belinda. ‘Are you in need of champions? Haven’t the greenhides been driven away from the City?’

  ‘They have,’ said Emily, ‘but we have plans to eradicate them right up to the mountain chain that lies two hundred miles east of here, and then fortify those mountains to prevent any more from getting through.’

  ‘That would require a lot of soldiers,’ said Belinda
.

  ‘It would, but the benefits it would bring would be enormous. I don’t suppose Blackrose would like to return? A dragon would be extremely useful for this kind of job.’

  ‘Blackrose is currently… unavailable,’ said Belinda, ‘but I could look into the possibility of sending other dragons to assist you. If I do this, will you consider my proposal?’

  ‘We will of course consider it,’ said Emily. ‘You have proved a wonderful servant of the City, and we owe you that, at least. Give us some time to think it over, and when you return to us, you shall have an answer.’

  Belinda nodded. ‘Then I shall return to Khatanax. Prepare yourselves. If Implacatus attacks, they will do so with huge numbers of mercenary soldiers, enough to defeat any Blade army that you can put together. If that happens, surrender immediately; I have seen what happens to cities that resist them.’

  Emily blinked, then resumed her smile. ‘Thank you for your advice.’

  She stood, and Belinda also got to her feet.

  ‘I will escort you to the roof,’ said Yendra.

  Belinda inclined her head towards Emily and Daniel, then walked with Yendra to the door, which a Reaper guard opened for them. They went through the corridors of the old palace, passing servants and staff, and several more guards.

  ‘That was an interesting speech you gave,’ said Yendra.

  Belinda said nothing, waiting for the princess to get to her point.

  ‘What I found most fascinating,’ Yendra went on, ‘was what you left out. Why is Corthie still on Lostwell, for instance? And, where is Aila, my niece?’

  ‘I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to cloud your judgement. I kept to the relevant facts regarding the Ascendant gods and their plans.’

  Yendra moved to block Belinda’s way. ‘Then I’ll ask you directly, since that seems the best way to communicate with you.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Where is Aila?’

  ‘She was captured by Amalia.’

  Shock passed over Yendra’s face for a moment, before her calm demeanour reasserted itself.