Dumber shrugged and strode up the bridge. He was savoring the moment, I guess, because he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. He kept coming at me but he spent a lot of time waving his arms and flexing, trying to show how big and strong he was.
I’d fought bigger. I’d beaten stronger.
His first swing came from a place called Obviousland and I ducked it. His second swing came from the neighboring village of Predictableville and that one missed me too. I gave a couple of half-speed punches thrown from the shoulder so he’d have something to duck and make us even. I didn’t want to take out all my frustrations on him. Not yet.
He held his hands low and tossed a jab in my direction. I let him hit me and there was some mass behind it. I felt it but it was a long way from being strong enough to ring my bell. I stepped back and felt the corner of my lip. No blood but I gave him a nod.
When I launched my one-two combo, I didn’t give him a chance to see it coming. I jumped forward and my left jab went over his fists and caught him in the eye and as I pulled that hand back I delivered a hard shot to his midsection.
Bam-bam.
Even without my shield, I could hit like a semi-truck. The air went out of him hard and he bent over about thirty degrees, which was a lot like last time. That felt good. To me. I let him have a second or two to decide if his stomach was where he’d left it or not.
“Keep your hands up,” I said. “You’re leaving your head exposed.”
He didn’t stand straighter but he tilted his head to look at me.
I resumed my stance and waited.
He put his hand on his belly, where he’d have a bruise tomorrow.
Finally, he brought his fists up and stepped toward me. I let him come.
My hands were just below my eyes. When he threw a roundhouse punch, I tried to duck. It took a fraction of a second to realize I wasn’t moving. Dumber’s fist drove into my shoulder like a sledgehammer.
There’s something screwy going on around here.
When Dumber’s punch hit, the force that held me was jostled loose. Ur stood with his hands clasped behind his back. If he thought I couldn’t see the pool of blue light reflected on the ground behind him, he was an idiot. I stared him down. I’m onto you. He was using magic to hold me still so Dumber could make hay.
When I promised my friends wouldn’t interfere, it was a given they’d abide by that. I should have asked Ur to agree as well. He hadn’t agreed so, technically, he didn’t have to.
Fine. And also dandy.
There was a slope not far away from the bridge that led down to the ground. It was about eight feet down and had enough dirt to keep some grass and short shrubs. I squatted at the edge of the bridge for a second and then dropped down, rolling on my shoulder as soon as I landed. Textbook.
I waited down the slope to see if Dumber would jump to the same place. If he did, I’d hit him while Ur couldn’t get line-of-sight and freeze me. It would be a jerk move but this wasn’t a boxing match, it was a street fight.
No movement on the bridge. I waited ten seconds and moved off. He’d be coming from a different direction instead and I might as well not be where he could find me.
I looked for loose rocks or a branch thick enough to use as a club. Apparently, the arena was designed for fights using the weapons you brought with you. There were trees and the pond and a few boulders but they weren’t suitable for impromptu armaments.
At least Dumber was stuck using his fists and feet as well.
I went fifty yards in the opposite direction, watching for holes in the ground. I moved quietly to the stone column where Hope was standing and heard her breathing overhead. She was a brave girl and it sounded like she was forcing herself to breathe deeply to calm herself. Even better, it sounded like it was working. She wasn’t hyperventilating anymore, and I knew she had a massive dose of adrenaline to deal with, but she was doing the right thing.
Good girl.
Rage slammed into my chest and I almost grunted out loud. For a moment, my fire erupted from my hands and I had to force it back down. Sweat beaded instantly on my face and I felt a flush of heat all over my body.
We will make you angry.
They’d almost made me flare up in front of the Máithrín. They were doing it again. The piece of deamhan heart inside me was tough to resist. What if it pushed me too far? I might give in to the rage and lose my temper. Call up my magic. Burn things. Then they’d have an excuse to unleash every spell in their arsenal and claim it was me who broke the deal.
Crap-tastic.
I felt something. A blip of movement inside that told there was movement outside.
A split second later, Dumber came out of the bushes from behind me and got his arms around my middle. He growled as he pushed me off balance and slammed me into the ground. I rolled out of his grasp and kicked sideways, catching him just below the knee. It wasn’t enough to break anything or sweep his feet out from under him—he had too much mass—but he swore a blue streak and backed away.
I jumped to my feet, but Dumber had vanished into the shadows. The lights in the arena were primarily behind the plateaus, so they provided very little illumination and instead threw long dark patches of blackness over everything below the bridge.
My shoulder ached. What had I felt just before the bug-breather had attacked? It was part of the anger that still roiled in my chest. It was like a reflection. Or an echo.
This was a lousy time for experimenting, but getting ambushed again was low on my list of preferences. I found another pillar of rock and looked for the darkest section. I reached up and found a shelf of sorts, and jumped up to get my arms over the ledge. My shoulder complained but I managed to haul myself up and press my back against the rock wall.
I put my hands behind my back. If I experienced another wave of anger and my fire erupted again before I could squelch it, it would be hidden. And possibly light my shirt on fire.
Another wave of anger hit me. I gritted my teeth. I wanted to yell. I sucked my power into my core, refusing to let it out. I tried to feel outward.
I sensed a spot of rage to my left and a second spot behind me. The one to my left had to be from the piece of deamhan heart in Feithid. The other had to be from the piece in Ur.
Seconds later, Tweedlemoron swept around the pillar swinging a freaking sword.
Where’d he get a sword?
Dumber held the sword out to the side, half-forgotten, confused that I was not standing in front of him bleeding. Since he was expecting me, I shouldn’t disappoint. I jumped off the ledge, kicking him in the face, and planting my other foot on his shoulder so I could push off as I dropped. He flew backwards, slamming flat on his back. The sword sailed out of his hand and landed in the grass. I hit him as he tried to sit up, dropping a pile driver on his face. He tried to sit up again. I hit him again.
Anger flared in my chest and I wanted to let it out with fire.
The deamhan heart in Dumber spoke to me.
Almost immediately the heart in Ur spoke to me too.
He’s close.
“I won’t give in!” I shouted.
Ur stepped out of the darkness, hands glowing.
I clenched my jaw. Made fists so tight the veins in my forearms stood out. Through my teeth, I managed, “Won’t give in.”
The light faded from Ur’s hands and with it, most of the anger at my core.
Ur didn’t say anything. No praise for my self-control. No bitter sarcasm. No petty insults either. I would have gone with petty insults. In fact . . .
“Since you’re bat-crap crazy,” I said, “it makes perfect sense that you use anger like sonar. You send out the signal and it bounces off the deamhan hearts and you can sense where we are. Right? But it only gives a general direction. Right? Now I understand what you’re doing. You can’t make me angry anymore.”
“In time, you could use the Call as I do. To unify the Dubhcridhe. Give them strength.”
“Still not interested.”
D
umber started moving.
“Give up, man,” I said.
He bled from his nose and mouth. His left eye was swelling shut. He felt around in the grass and I guessed he was looking for his sword.
“Just give up,” I said. “I don’t want to keep hitting you.”
“Ní stopfaimid go dtí go mbéarfar orthu,” he mumbled.
I’d heard that phrase before. We won’t stop until they’re hunted down. I knew exactly where I’d been when I’d heard it.
“Nathair was Dubhcridhe too.” I looked at Ur.
“Yes.”
“She said the same thing before she became a deamhan and was banished.”
“Yes.”
“She sent an enchanted dragonfly to deliver a message. We never knew where it went.”
“It went to inform her master that she was giving her life for the cause.”
“Does bug-breath have a dragonfly too?”
“He doesn’t. I already know he’s preparing to die in the name of the Dubhcridhe.”
A blizzard’s worth of ice hit my veins as Ur smiled and vanished.
He isn’t a servant. He’s the head of the cult.
Dumber coughed. His hands were alight and a blue glow was coming out of his throat.
He’s conjuring a swarm.
“You used magic first,” I spat.
The first bug flew off Dumber’s broken lip. I swatted it down with my burning hand. More bugs gathered in Dumber’s open mouth. No more.
I kicked Dumber in the chin. He bit down with a crunch. I slipped behind him and wrapped my arm around his throat, pulling his head up against my chest so he wouldn’t be able to open his mouth. He thrashed, trying to get free.
Ur started off into the shadows. “Aren’t you going to stop me?” I asked.
“You continue to serve us.” Ur shot over his shoulder. “We thank you.”
He had me in a corner. If I didn’t stop the bugs, they’d eat me alive. Then they’d go after everyone else. I held on. Dumber grabbed at my arm. I burned his hand and he let go. One very enterprising insect worked its way out of Dumber’s nose. I torched it with a quick lance of fire and clamped my hand over Dumber’s face.
It was better not thinking about what was happening to him. He was having trouble breathing. I couldn’t miss the rasping in his lungs. My imagination ran rampant anyway and I pictured the swarm, unable to escape, running over each other with no way back where they came from and deciding to gnaw their way out. I listened to his muffled grunts as his thrashing became more violent. I couldn’t let go but it was all I could do to hold on.
He groaned and his muscles tensed. He raised his hand and gave me the deamhan bite.
Seriously?
For a heartbeat or ten he went rigid, quivering. His hand fell.
He was limp but his body kept moving.
Bile rose in the back of my throat. I kept my hand over his face while I pulled off his shirt and tied it around his head to hold his jaw shut. I heard things inside him but they weren’t getting out and they weren’t able to breathe. The bugs were suffocating. A minute passed, and then another, and then the sounds stopped.
I left him on the floor of the arena in the dark and went to attend the living.
Chapter Thirty-Three: Judgment
The ramp up to the plateau was tucked behind some rocks. Everyone had gone except the Asaliompair and a few horses and my closest friends.
“Most of your company seems to have abandoned you,” Ur said. “Except for these few who somehow didn’t find a way out like the others. Curious.”
“The way you keep losing your people, you won’t have any cult left.”
Ur looked around the arena.
“If you’re trying to find out how they escaped, the answer’s right in front of you,” I said.
Ur shrugged, but I knew it was killing him that we’d done something he didn’t understand. I hoped so. I take pleasure in the annoyance of bullies.
“Well, this has been quite entertaining,” Ur said, pretending he didn’t care. “I need to make an appearance at court soon. Can’t have the Máithrín thinking I’m not there to attend to her every need.”
“It’s been real. Let’s never do it again. ‘Kay. Buh-bye.”
Ur raised a finger. “There is the matter of witnesses.”
I laughed. “As a reminder from ten seconds ago, the puppies are out of the box. There are at least twenty witnesses who have fled the kennel. They’re already spreading the word.”
“Stable boys? Old cooks? Diggers of latrines? An archer who’s a woman? Hardly the most reliable assortment of tale tellers. They’ll be fortunate to get pigs to listen. But you, the son of the Alder King, his wife, and the captain of the king’s guard. The three of you could stymie our efforts, if I allowed something as unwanted as the truth to be told.”
“Wow, that was ageist, sexist and overall misogynist. You got the dipstick hat trick.”
I was glad he hadn’t included Hope. I very much hoped he’d forgotten Hope.
“In any case, I must satisfy my curiosity.”
“Write down your question and we’ll get back to you next week. Two weeks, tops.”
Ur ignored me.
He stretched out his hands like he was trying to find a choir he could preach to. “According to some, the world will end when the Súilfirinne is left open on top of a mountain and passes judgment on every soul. While in her cradle, she sleeps. When she is exposed, she reaches out to find each soul in need of judgment. Every soul she judges makes her hungrier and she is only destroyed when there are no more souls for her to judge. Sadly, the legend says it would take a thousand years, and we don’t have that kind of time.”
“That’s a really nice story, but you told it wrong. It’s supposed to start with ‘Once upon a time’ and end with ‘happily ever after.’ Honestly, no wonder your people keep volunteering to die. You can’t even tell a decent fable.”
“They have given their lives for a purpose!” A vein pulsed visibly on Ur’s forehead, and he shook his fist at me.
Sooner or later, everyone gives in to the Got Luck charm.
He was planning on killing us.
But I was getting to him.
I was making him angry.
Turnabout is fair play.
Angry people make mistakes.
“I’ll stay and watch this,” he said. “I was going to go back to the Máithrín’s castle for a while. Just long enough for you to die. An hour, perhaps two. But now, I’ll take my chances. If I’m missed at court, I have many duties to give me excuses. I’ll stay here to make sure you are judged and when you are dead, I’ll return the Súilfirinne to her cradle for safekeeping and go back to the castle with the warmth of success to guide my steps.”
There we go. He’s making mistakes already.
“Let’s make sure you don’t escape before you die, my prince.”
His hands lit up and I found myself suddenly standing on top of the original pillar. A moment later, Fáidh stood beside me. I looked over the edge. The sides were sheer and we were almost as high as the pillar where Hope stood. The ground was hidden under the shadows. Somewhere. Jumping from here would be like jumping off a six-story building.
“As for you, sir knight.” Ur produced some silver tools. There was a rod like a thick wand and it had several rings on it. A focus of some kind. “Do you know, Prince Luck, what spell to use to destroy the Alder King’s personal guard?”
He didn’t care what I knew. He wanted to gloat. Megalomaniacs are like that.
The spell formed a pinpoint of light in the air, like a star, and it was over Sir Siorradh.
“This is stupid,” I muttered. I put my hands behind my back like Ur had and called my power. I crafted a thread of fire, as narrow as I could make it, and sent it winding toward Ur. The thread wouldn’t blow up rocks but if I got it down his throat, since he wouldn’t shut up, it could lash his heart and that would be enough. The thread floated high overhead, like a python i
n the treetops getting ready to drop on a pig. Ur’s spell thankfully needed a minute to cast. That’s all the time I had for him to be distracted. I needed to make it count.
“Can you find a way out, Sir Siorradh?” I called. “If so, please do it.”
It was possible that the pinpoint of light was tied to him but if Ur had to control it to make sure it hit its target, then that was an extra bit of distraction I could use. Siorradh started climbing the pile of stones blocking the exit, looking for a hole he could squeeze through.
“Wander all you wish, knight,” Ur said. “It will make no difference.”
The star stalked Sir Siorradh through the air. My thread of fire stalked Ur.
I needed to hit him before he finished the spell, but it took time to be accurate. I couldn’t afford to miss like I’d missed before.
So close.
Almost there.
“I feel your magic, prince,” said Ur. “And I can cast more than one spell at a time.”
Dammit.
He waved his hand and a gust of wind swatted my thread of fire out of the air.
An arrow sprouted from Ur’s chest.
“Can you cast three spells at a time?” Rós of Caerwood stepped into the arena.
“Get back!” I yelled.
Too late. Ur flicked his finger and Rós instantly stood on top of the pillar with Fáidh and me, only without her bow and arrow and without her knife.
Crap. He’s good.
Rós crossed her arms and stepped to the edge of the column to stare at Ur. She didn’t seem to worry about the height at all.
“Good job,” I whispered. “You may have saved us.”
“I missed his fuaire heart.” She scowled. “With your distraction, I got a shot off, at least.”
“If we’re lucky it will be enough.”
Ur wheezed. Hopefully, there was blood entering his lungs. “If anyone tries,” he paused to inhale, “anything else. The women fall.”
I believed him.
Determined to finish what he’d started, Ur resumed his spell, although there was a spot of red where the arrow had pierced his chest. It was spreading.
“That has to hurt.” I shouted. “You’ll need a healer soon. Come and join us up here. We’ll heal you real well.”
Got Hope Page 29