He turns in place, searching for a disturbance in the cyclone. I’m too close to him, and he brushes my arm. He lashes out. I swerve to avoid his blade and then plant my dagger in his sword arm, hitting close to the elbow joint. He can’t lift his weapon anymore. I pop back into sight, pulling my knife out with a twist.
His eyes blaze with pain. Then burn with rage. The Elemental’s mouth opens on the start of a snarled chant, and I punch him in the arm wound, cutting the spell short. He gasps. I grab his hair and drag his face down as my knee flies up. His nose cracks, and he staggers back, doubling over. The wind dies, and sand thuds to the ground. I shift my balance, spin, and kick him in the head. He crashes like a marble statue, blood spraying from his nose.
A quick check reveals the other Magoi still down and unconscious. I run toward Jocasta while shouting, “Go!” to Flynn. I’ll protect her, and he can help Griffin better than I can.
Exchanging places with me, Flynn races into the fray. The injured Tarvan disengages from Griffin and deflects the first mighty blow from Flynn’s ax. The force of it makes the man stumble. Flynn follows up with a brutal strike from his short sword, and his opponent drops and rolls away. Flynn stalks after him, his weapons raised.
Jocasta clutches my arm from behind. “Can’t we do something?”
“Stay out of the way.” I learned that lesson the hard way, thanks to the Hydra.
“Something else!” she cries.
I shake my head. “They’re moving fast and turning a lot. It’s risky to throw a knife. We’re trying not to kill anyone, especially our own.”
“But they’re trying to kill us!”
I glance over my shoulder. Jocasta looks less terrorized than before. She’s agitated and bouncing on the balls of her feet.
A slight bite creeps into my voice. “You get into one fight and start thirsting for blood?”
Her eyes widen. “No! I just want it over.”
“Our men are better,” I assure her. “If they were fighting to kill, it would already be done. But we’re making a statement. Strength with mercy. The new beginning and all that.”
Jocasta scowls. “Humph.”
My thoughts exactly. Mostly.
The audience starts yelling, but it’s nothing like the usual raucous cheers and jeers. I look toward the loudest of the noise. Left to their own devices, thousands of spiders are now climbing the divider between the sandy arena and the coliseum seating. They spill over the top in a seemingly endless, scuttling black wave. Screaming spectators jump up and scramble for higher ground. It’s the beginning of a stampede.
My eyes return to the pit floor in time to see Carver sink his long blade into his opponent’s abdomen. The thrust is clean, going all the way through without hitting ribs or spine. Carver slides his sword back out. White-faced, the Fisan holds his belly and keeps swinging through the pain. Carver parries, looking bored.
A kid screams, high-pitched and terrified. Turning again, I search the crowd.Who would bring a child to the Agon Games?I see him then. A boy. His small, dark head disappears, pushed down as bigger, stronger people race up the steps. I yell, pointing, which is completely useless, but then I see a sharp-faced man stop and haul the boy up before propelling him forward.
Suddenly seething—kids at the Agon Games!—I march toward the swarm of spiders. Jocasta follows, trying to drag me back.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Getting the spiders.”
“What!” She digs in her heels. “Don’t touch them!”
“I’m not planning to.” I’m really, really not.
Jocasta leaps back, kicking out when a hairy straggler crawls over her boot.
“Stay behind me,” I order. “Tell me if anyone’s coming.”
She turns without question, and I concentrate on one thought—urging the spiders back down into the pit. I don’t feel anything at first, but then a tiny light starts to glow inside my head. Another flashes, then another, and another, and then so many so fast I can’t keep track. They flood me in a bright, barely sentient rush, and I corral each minute spark of each minuscule brain. In a heartbeat, they turn into a cohesive, pulsating mass, ready to obey.
Come.
An undulating sea of black washes back over the wall. It rolls toward me, and then thousands of spiders are suddenly swarming up my body.
Screeching, I hop and dance like a deranged puppet, flinging them away. “Not to me! Off! Off! Off!” I give the glowing orb of spider consciousnesses inside my head a mental push, and they jump, evacuating like I’m on fire.
Jocasta shrieks, high-stepping back.
