The First Champion

by Sandell Wall

  Niad set out through the streets. Lacrael followed several steps behind her at a respectable distance. This communicated that Lacrael was Niad’s property, but also kept Lacrael in a position of outward submission. Niad had gotten into the habit of pausing at every intersection and glancing up and down the adjoining roads. If she spotted tomb keepers, she would take a detour to avoid them. So far, her caution had allowed them to avoid confrontation.

  Palacostian cities could not expand beyond the perimeter of their established walls, so if they wanted to grow, the only direction was up. This led to tall, multi-level buildings and ever-narrowing roads. Many streets were covered as builders claimed the valuable space overhead. On the ground level, it almost felt like wandering through a cave.

  Lacrael hated the claustrophobic cities. She almost preferred the dangers of the Ravening to the stifling confines of these enclosed streets. Add to this the harsh, militaristic society of the Palacost Empire, and every venture behind the walls of a settlement felt like infiltrating an enemy fortress.

  Thanks to Niad’s understanding of the culture and how these cities worked, they were not completely helpless. As they walked quickly through the streets, Lacrael marveled again at the other woman’s knowledge and fortitude. Niad did not speak much about her past beyond what she had already revealed, but the more time Lacrael spent with her, the more she began to suspect that Niad’s family had held significant power and influence before their fall.

  Niad turned a corner and slowed her pace. Lacrael came up alongside her. Niad nodded at the ground floor of a tall a building about a hundred paces down the street. There were women standing outside of it, and a steady flow of foot traffic moved in and out of the open doors.

  “See?” Niad said. “Just like I said. It’s still there. I don’t recognize the name on the sign, but that doesn’t matter. We’ll win our money inside.”

  “That’s a lot of women…,” Lacrael said.

  “We won’t run into tomb keepers here,” Niad said. “This is a gathering place for lowborn or disgraced women. Women who must work to survive. They won’t give you any trouble.”

  Lacrael trusted Niad, but beneath her tattered robes, she gripped Elise’s dagger with a white-knuckled hand as they approached the crowd of women in front of the tavern. They glanced up when Niad and Lacrael drew near. One even gave Niad a nod. None of them seemed to care about Lacrael.

  Inside, the low-ceilinged tavern was filled with round stone tables. Most of these were occupied by women, although Lacrael spotted a few men at the edges of the room. The lighting was poor, and the occupants seemed to prefer it that way. Faces were obscured by shadow. This was not a place of revelry. Private, hushed conversations paused when Niad and Lacrael passed between the tables.

  Niad ignored the looks they got as they weaved through the main room. She did not stop to sit at an empty table. At the rear of the tavern, an open doorway led into the back. Niad made for this door. The room beyond was packed with people. They were loitering around a trio of women who were crouched on the floor in the center of the overcrowded space.

  Lacrael hung back, finding an inconspicuous spot against the wall while Niad pressed her way towards the middle of the room. Everyone’s attention was on a small ring that had been set up on the floor. There, the contest of chance Niad intended to wager on was played.

  The contest seemed ridiculous to Lacrael, but the amount of money she saw people gamble away in every city they visited was nothing to scoff at. Niad had struggled to interpret the ancient Palacostian name of the game, finally settling on a loose translation that Lacrael could understand of “battle bug.”

  Anyone could bring a predatory insect to wager on. The most common was the large spiders found in the Ravening, but Lacrael had also seen scorpions and other hideous bugs she did not recognize. The imprisoned insects were forced to fight to the death in the tiny ring on the floor. The victor would continue to fight until it was killed or there were no more challengers.

  Gamblers put money down on not only who would win or lose but also the duration of the fight, how it would end, and how many fights would be won in a row by the same bug. Niad had a knack for picking the insect that would win more than once. She would place a few small bets on what she believed were the top contenders, and the return was so good that if she picked a winning insect, they walked away with a tidy profit.

  Once Niad showed her coin, she was hastily welcomed into the game. Fortunate for her, they had arrived while the ring was empty. She spent several long minutes inspecting the bugs yet to fight, carefully making her picks. Lacrael had seen her do this several times now, so instead of watching Niad, she inspected the other gamblers around the room.

  Most of them were like Niad: down-on-their-luck women who had not chosen this life but were trying to make the best of it. A few of them had the look of professional gamblers. These were women who made a living hunting for, and wagering on, the insects that fought and died in the ring. They were easily recognizable by their strange, baggy clothes and odd mannerisms. Having turned their back on normal society, they were more at home in the miasma than here. Lacrael shivered as eight phantom legs scampered up her spine. She could not imagine crawling through the Ravening, trying to catch spiders and worse.

  But there was one woman who stood out from the rest. She sat cross-legged in front of the fighting ring as if she personally presided over the contest. Her dark hair was cut short, and it framed a young face. She dressed similar to the insect hunters, like she was ready to venture out into the Ravening at a moment’s notice. Leather goggles with glass lenses hung around her neck. Mischief danced in her eyes, and Lacrael knew right away, she would be trouble. The young woman watched Niad intently. Niad had not noticed the attention yet.

  Satisfied with her inspection of the competitors, Niad moved to the center of the room to make her bets. She knelt, separated her wagers into three piles of coins on the floor, and pushed them towards the ring.

  “Three equal bets on the two brown spiders and the red scorpion,” Niad said. “One of them will win at least three fights.”

  Nods and murmurs around the room agreed that this was a smart bet. But the seated woman frowned.

  “We’re not spreading bets here,” the young woman said. “Make your best pick and put your money down.”

  Niad matched the woman’s dismissive tone. “You were happy enough to see my coin. Don’t try and tell me how to wager it.”

  Anger flashed in the younger woman’s eyes. Lacrael’s hand tightened around the hilt of her dagger again. Before the woman lashed out at Niad, someone from the crowd spoke up.

  “She doesn’t know who you are,” the voice said. “You can’t expect everyone who walks in here to know your face.”

  “Is that it?” the seated woman said. “You don’t recognize me?”

  “Should I?” Niad asked. She sounded cautious now.

  The younger woman threw back her head and laughed, and the tension drained out of the room. Lacrael thought the reaction seemed weird, a little too forced.

  “I like you,” the young woman said. “You’ve got grit. My name is Hexia, of House Riggor. Recognize that?”

  Lacrael grimaced behind her mask. Niad stiffened. Even Lacrael recognized the name of House Riggor. They were one of the oldest and most powerful families in the empire, with a reputation for terrible cruelty. Why would a member of such a prestigious house be in the backroom of this run-down tavern?

  “I thought you might,” Hexia said with a vicious grin. “Now, what’ll your wager be?”

  Niad was trapped. Lacrael sensed that most of the room thought Hexia was being unfair, but no one was about to give voice to their objection. To give herself time to think, Niad slowly pushed her coins into a single pile in front of her.

  “I’ll place it all on the red scorpion,” Niad said when she could delay no longer. “He’ll last for at least five rounds.”

  The room gasped. Lacrael sensed that Niad had just ma
de an absurd wager.

  Hexia’s grin never wavered. “I’ll match that bet,” she said. “If she wins, I’ll pay her myself. If she loses, she’ll pay me directly. That is, if she can afford to.”

  Lacrael tried to ignore the ominous undertones of Hexia’s last statement. Niad crouched next to the ring opposite from Hexia. At a signal from Hexia, the red scorpion was placed into the ring. An insect with two giant, clawed mandibles was dropped in next. The two creatures circled each other for a moment, before the scorpion ended the contest with a lightning fast strike of its barbed tail.

  The crowd shifted around the ring as money changed hands and new bettors moved forward. Niad and Hexia did not budge. The next two fights ended as quickly as the first. It soon became clear that Niad had picked a winner, and the rest of the room was getting more excited with every victory.

  During the fourth fight, the scorpion struggled. Its opponent was some sort of giant beetle, with jaws like swords and a shell as hard as iron. The scorpion struck at the beetle’s defenses repeatedly, but its barb just bounced off the thick carapace. The crowd cheered every strike and booed when the beetle remained unharmed.

  Finally, when it looked like the scorpion had met its match, it managed to flip the beetle over. Unable to right itself, the beetle’s underside was no match for the scorpion’s stinger. The scorpion’s barb pierced the beetle’s belly and unleashed its venom.

  While the crowd cheered and congratulated Niad, Hexia drew a dagger. Before anyone could react, she reached across the ring and stabbed the scorpion, pinning it to the floor. When the rest of the room realized what she had done, the celebration stopped. The only sound was the scrabbling of the scorpion’s legs against the floor as it writhed against the blade that pierced it. Soon, it went still in death. Lacrael put a foot against the wall behind her, ready to lunge forward if violence broke out.

  “You owe me for four wins,” Niad said.

  Lacrael was amazed that Niad kept her voice calm.

  “The bet was five,” Hexia said. “You came up one short.”

  Hexia smirked as she spoke. To her, this was just as much a game as the bug fights were. She was trying to appear threatening, but she did not quite pull it off. It was clearly an act that Hexia found terribly amusing.

  Niad lowered her head. The crowd inched away from the ring and the two women facing off over it. When Niad looked up and spoke again, she made no effort to disguise the edge behind her words.

  “You invalidated the wager,” Niad said. “I’ll take my money and go.”

  “I think not,” Hexia said. “You lost the bet, and now you owe me. I want what’s mine.”

  Lacrael scanned the room, hoping to find the face of a potential ally. She saw plenty of disgusted scowls, but no one that she would count on standing up to Hexia’s tyranny.

  “I can’t possibly pay that sum right now,” Niad said.

  Lacrael’s heart sank. Niad was giving in. She did not dare draw the ire of House Riggor.

  Hexia reached over and plucked her dagger out of the floor. She dislodged the slain scorpion with a shake and inspected the blade.

  “Of course you can’t,” Hexia said while she cleaned her dagger. “I doubt you’ve ever seen that much money in your entire life. But there are other ways to make good on your debt.”

  “What would you have me do?” Niad said, defeated.

  “Let me be your guide.”

  “What?”

  Now Hexia smiled, the twinkle of mischief back in her eyes.

  “You’re traveling to Orcassus, that much is obvious,” Hexia said. “You’ve got a slaver’s chip hanging from your belt, which means you’re transporting merchandise. For you to be in here gambling means you’re short on funds. And the only thing you’d need money for is to hire a guide to the capital. Let me be your guide, and I’ll consider your debt paid.”

  Niad rocked back on her heels, no doubt just as perplexed as Lacrael. The sudden reversal in Hexia’s attitude made Lacrael’s head spin.

  “Why would you make such an offer?” Niad said.

  “This isn’t the place to discuss it,” Hexia said. “This is the only chance you’ll get to accept. You can always pay in coin if you prefer.”

  “When you put it that way, how can I refuse?”

  Hexia sprang to her feet, suddenly giddy with excitement. When Hexia stepped forward into the torchlight, Lacrael’s eyes widened in surprise to realize how young she really was. She did not look a day over sixteen years old. Hexia grasped Niad’s arm like they were long lost friends and practically pulled her back into the main room of the tavern.

  Lacrael stayed close behind. On the way out of the building, she discovered something else about Hexia. Once she started talking, she did not stop.

  “You have no idea how hard it is to find jobs with my family name hanging over my head,” Hexia said. “Everyone’s too scared to hire me, which is beyond stupid. But my dream is to become a star hunter, and to be accepted into training, I need to log a thousand hours in the Ravening as a guide.

  “You know what a star hunter is, right?” It sounded like a question, but Hexia continued without a pause. “They track and study the blight stars. They’re the ones that chart the path of the stars, forcing them to change course if they get too close to a city. And if they try to reproduce, the hunters have to kill the younglings.

  “This is perfect! Once I guide you to Orcassus, word will spread that I’m not luring people to their doom, and I’ll start getting more jobs.”

  Hexia’s voice grated on Lacrael. The girl spoke with the supreme confidence of someone who had never been denied anything in their entire life. That she had manipulated them into hiring her meant nothing to Hexia. No doubt, she had been wielding the reputation of House Riggor to get what she wanted since she learned to talk.

  Back in the street, Hexia made to pull Niad in one direction, but Niad finally stood her ground. Hexia stopped in surprise.

  “That was a dirty trick you pulled back there,” Niad said. “You could have just asked.”

  “And you’d have said no,” Hexia said. “Besides, it was more fun this way.”

  “How old are you? How many times have you made this trip? I was intending to hire an experienced guide. Someone who can keep my merchandise safe.”

  Hexia waved a hand to dismiss Niad’s concerns.

  “I’m older than I look,” Hexia said. “This will be my first time acting as a guide, but don’t worry, I’ve studied all the texts. My family has access to everything ever written on the Ravening. You won’t find anyone more prepared than I am.”

  Niad glanced at Lacrael with a grimace on her face, as if to say that Hexia’s answer was exactly what Niad did not want to hear.

  Chapter 23

  MAZAREEM CATALOGED EVERY LITTLE detail as he followed Pynel through the crowded streets. Compared to the other cities they had visited, Orcassus was a bustling metropolis. The narrow roads were packed with people going about their business. Here, Mazareem finally saw men running errands and putting their backs into the hard labor of keeping the city running. He also saw quite a few robed individuals. These people always kept their faces hidden, and their ragged clothing gave them the appearance of plague victims. Their robes all looked the same, so it was clear that it denoted some sort of social standing.

  Whoever they were, it was obvious that these unfortunates languished on the very bottom of Orcassus’s pecking order. When Pynel and her seplica strode down the center of a street, these robed citizens cast themselves to the stones and went prostrate before the seplica. Pynel acted as if she did not even see them.

  The time for asking Pynel questions had passed. Mazareem sensed that the captain had closed herself off to him. He had earned her begrudging respect after saving her life, but her dedication to her duty was unwavering. If that duty meant that Mazareem must suffer, so be it.

  Pynel walked fast. Once they reached what appeared to be a main thoroughfare, they made straight for the c
enter of the city. The road ran straight until it terminated beneath the walls of the central castle. As the sun crept towards the western horizon, the shadow of the citadel’s spire stretched towards them. Soon, Mazareem walked in the fortress’s shadow.

  Mazareem stared down at the street where the edge of the castle's silhouette cut through the sunlight. He felt like he was walking towards the center of a great, unholy sundial, and the grasping shadow of its gnomon reached only for him.

  Pynel had been right about Mazareem being no more than a mere a pawn here. People did not give them a second glance as they passed them in the street. Seplica were nothing out of the ordinary to these citizens. Gone were the awestruck crowds. For the thousandth time, he wondered if he had made a mistake. It had been easy to believe his plan might work when people treated him like a God. But walking through Orcassus, Mazareem felt more like a fool.

  The walls of the castle rose to block out the sun as they drew nearer. Pynel slowed enough for Mazareem to come alongside her.

  “You can’t possibly hope to fight or resist her,” Pynel said. “Find a way to please her, and you might survive.”

  Those were the last words Pynel spoke to him. She picked up her pace again, not giving Mazareem a chance to respond. At the main gate of the castle they found a lowered drawbridge spanning a bottomless moat. Mazareem stuck his head over the edge of the bridge and peered into the abyss. A water-filled moat teeming with monsters would have been more comforting than that dark pit.

  The buildings of the city encroached right up to the edge of the cliff, and while they were crossing the bridge, Mazareem spotted someone tossing a pail of garbage out of a window and into the moat. The uncrossable span represented an impenetrable defense. With the drawbridge raised, the fortress would be completely cut off from the rest of Orcassus.

  Pynel’s seplica forced Mazareem away from the edge. Either they were bothered by the gut-wrenching drop or they worried he might jump. Mazareem passed through the castle gate surrounded by soldiers. The inner courtyard was empty. The high walls of the keep blocked out the sights and sounds of Orcassus, producing the illusion that they were somewhere other than in the center of a sprawling city.