That’s just so wrong.
And the crowd loves it. Sick fucking bastards.
I’ve seen my fair share of blood sports—some pretty nasty shit too, but it’s the scale of this that blows my mind. When the boat first pulled up outside of the arena, I couldn’t understand what I was seeing. It’s not like anything I’d ever encountered on thesurface—this giant cluster of stone dangling over the water. What I couldn’t see from below was how the stone was hollowed out to create an arena floor, with stands rising something like four stories in the air around it. The fighters must look like a couple of ants running around from the upper tiers, yet every damned seat is filled.
And I’m next on the docket for tonight’s entertainment.
I grab the rusty sword they gave me from where I’d leaned it up against the wall and sweep it up onto my shoulder. My naked shoulder. Because it wasn’t enough they gave me a sword so dull it couldn’t cut butter, they had to throw me to the wolves in nothing but a loincloth.
The gate rises and my adrenaline kicks in, chasing away the nerves and suffusing my body with energy. Some soldiers get addicted to it, the battle high. Those are the ones who run into the fray without even a hint of fear, until they get a sword to the gullet. You see, fear is a good thing. It keeps our reflexes sharp, our minds sharper. Fear reminds us to check our backs and guard our front. Fear keeps us alive.
As long as it doesn’t cause you to freeze up like a rabbit before a wolf.
Then, you’re fucked.
As soon as I step out onto the sandy arena floor, the crowd’s screams seem to double in volume. I stake my spot, as close to the center of the arena as I can get, while avoiding the dark puddles of blood and viscera everywhere. You’d think someone would, at the very least, throw a little sand over it between fights, but nope. They’d rather you slip in it. The more gruesome, the better, right?
I turn in place, watching the tunnels for whichever gate rises. Hopefully, only one will go up. That would probably mean one bigger, meaner competitor, but at least you’re not going to get caught off guard that way.
The gong sounds, and the crowd goes silent. All except for one voice.
“Aemon.”
The sound of my name has me looking up into the stands. There, in box seats I assume are for the noble families, is Katya standing up, hand gripping her chest. What is she doing here?
A fae male I hadn’t noticed before grabs her by the arm and slaps her hard across the face.
My stomach dips, and I flex my hand around the hilt of my sword. Looks like I’ve got another name to add to my kill list.
I don’t get a chance to dwell on that thought because the screech of a gate opening calls for my attention. Glancing around, I don’t see any other gates rising, but that doesn’t mean they won’t go up later. For now, I keep my attention focused on the open tunnel, my sword raised and ready. At first, there’s only the slightest hint of movement in the darkness, then a soft growl reverberates off the tunnel walls, followed by a clacking sound, clack, clack, clack, like two sticks smacking together. My pulse speeds up at that sound. I’ve never heard anything like it before.
A paw the size of a small child crosses into the light, its massive claws scratching long trenches in the sand. Next, a golden snout with dagger-like teeth bared, black-lined eyes and the rounded ears of a lion emerges, but where the mane should be, coal black snakes writhe and hiss and snap at the air. Their scales take on a golden hue as they extend down the creature’s back, where its decimatedwings drag in the dirt. I’m struck with a pang of pity for the poor creature then. It’s as much a prisoner as I am. No doubt they’ve been starving it, so it’ll be that much more aggressive when it sees me, it’s dinner. When the rest of the beast comes into the light, though, that pity quickly turns to horror.
It doesn’t have the tail of a lion, as I expected, but of a scorpion, its stinger large enough to pierce straight through my chest and come out the other side. I was wrong before. This isn’t a fight. This is a death sentence. I glance up to where Katya is watching from the stands, the terror on her face evident even from here.
Close your eyes, witchling. This isn’t going to be pretty.
Turning my attention back to the beast, I lift my sword, plant my feet and wait for it to make its move. It steps forward slowly, carefully, eyes scanning its surroundings, as if it, too, is trying to assess the situation. Because that’s what I need, an opponent that’s both deadly and intelligent. The hard shell of its tail cracks against the tunnel walls as the creature whips it from side to side, causing bits of dust to rain down onto its back.
I guess I know what the noise was now.
The crowd’s whispers and gasps grow increasingly louder as the beast emerges from the tunnel. The fear in the air is palpable, or maybe that’s just me. My chest is tight, mouth cotton-dry and my heart is beating a staccato chant ofrun, run, run. But I have nowhere to go, no choice but to fight.
The creature prowls a circuit around me, its tail flicking back and forth like a pissed off cat. I’m not sure if it decided the people in the crowd weren’t a threat, or if it’s just so damn hungry it doesn’t care, but its eyes are fixed on me. I need to disable that tail. That’s got to be my number one goal. Its claws and teeth will mess meup, for sure, but that stinger so much as touches me, and I’m done for. It’s angling its body toward me, like it’s trying to fool me into thinking it’s not about to pounce—clever bastard.
It leaps, and gods help me, it closes half the distance between us in one bound. Anticipating another leap, I dive to the side. The floor, which appears to be stone beneath the layer of sand, tears the skin from my chest as I slide across it. I barely feel the stinging pain as the thump of the creature landing behind me spurs me back to my feet. I spin around to face it, sword at the ready. It’s closer than I’d anticipated, so close I catch the scent of death, maybe a festering wound, wafting off its body. Either it’s been rolling around in dead things, or it’s badly hurt somewhere I can’t see.
It darts forward, and I leap and roll away at the last second before that stinger comes down right where I’d been standing. The creature whips its head back around to look at me, its teeth bared. It snarls, the sound a deep rumble I can feel vibrating in my feet.
Fuck. I am so dead.
It comes at me again, and once again, I roll out of the way just in time. The crowd roars, but whether it’s for me or the beast, I have no idea. It slowly turns to face me, teeth snapping at the air. Another lunge, and I dodge, then again and again. Damn thing’s barely trying, and I’m already winded. It crouches low, its muscles bunched, back-end wiggling as it readies itself to pounce. With each flick of its tail, fat drops of venom fling off its stinger to wet the sand. It’s facing me because that’s its strongest position. I need to get to the side of it, out of its line of sight. I quickly scan my surroundings. There are a couple of barrels set out for the wranglers to hide behind when they’re herding the animals backinto the tunnels. They won’t protect me from the beast if it decides to bust through, but if I can block its view for even a second…
I look left, but spring right, hoping to fool the creature into moving the wrong way. It doesn’t work. Hot, searing pain tears down my back. I stumble, but quickly find my footing again and sprint for the nearest barrel.
My entire back is on fire. It hurts so fucking bad, tears spring to my eyes, blurring my vision. I keep racing for the big brown blob and pray it got me with its claws and not the stinger. I dive behind the barrel, then shuffle back to my feet and glance over the top. Our eyes meet. The creature huffs like a bull and rakes its claws across the sand. One of its paws is bloody, and I thank the god of lucky bastards, that’s what got me. My back must look like a freshly tenderized slab of beef, but it’s better than poison. I duck back behind the barrel and breathe. On the count of three, I’ll shove the barrel at him and—On your left, a voice screams in my head. I don’t question it. I lunge right and race around the barrels. The creature’s gone the other way around, leaving its tail visible on this side. No time to think. I leap and, with every ounce of my strength, bring the sword down between two of the lower segments. The hard shell cracks, sending vibrations traveling up the sword and into my hands. It stings like a bitch, but I refuse to let go. The blade sinks into soft flesh, severing the creature’s tail from its body, but leaving the lower half of the shell attached.
The beast lets out an ear-splitting wail and shoots across the arena, its ruined tail dragging along behind it. It swings around at the last second, crashing sideways into the wall and sending a plume of dust into the air. There it rests, chest heaving, while the dismembered stinger continues to wiggle as though possessed.I shake the pain from my hands, then lean on the barrel, giving myself a moment to catch my breath.
