Shotput of Power

by Drae Box

  “He’s been bit,” stated one, pointing at the dragon head still attached to Raneth’s leg. “No point chasing him. He’s gonna be on the floor soon enough.”

  Raneth ignored them and scooped Pedibastet, almost losing his balance. He staggered away from the arena, aiming for Sasha’s. Just a bit longer, body, begged Raneth. I have to come back and rescue Aldora.

  Chapter Eight

  Aldora

  The Dagger Bearer awoke to stiff shoulders. She had wrapped her torso in a tight hug, fighting back tears before falling asleep in the corner of her cell. The dragons had bounded after her partner last night with shrieks that had hurt her ears, and left her wondering how he and Pedibastet could have escaped them, especially when they didn’t return. She coughed down the dust she had inhaled in her sleep and lifted her chin from her clammy chest.

  The men in the cell beside hers were sat next to each other, resting their backs against the stone wall, just as she was. One of them glanced her way, but he didn’t give her a smile.

  “Too bad your mate couldn’t get you out, miss,” he stated. “But just as good for the rest of us. See, they’ll go easy on our pairings today so the crowd is extra restless when you’re put in front of your dragon. It’s gonna kill you so quick, those of us who survive today will be jealous.”

  “Dragon?” asked Aldora softly.

  She stood up and rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen them ready for whatever was going to happen. It makes sense that the inspector would make sure I have to fight soon, but it means Raneth might not make it back in time, assuming he’s OK after last night. It’s just me and the Dagger now. She leaned forwards, repositioning her legs so that she could stretch them awake.

  “A moth dragon. I hear they were once native to your land.”

  “I’m not really an expert in dragons,” stated Aldora, as she turned to face the man. I bet Raneth is, though, being a Bayre, just in case his future kid’s gift-form ends up being one.

  The man stood up and came over to the bars that separated them. “It’s big, and it kills with vomit.”

  He’s got to be kidding me, hoped Aldora as she wrinkled her nose.

  “Puke? How?”

  “It’s how it digests, miss,” said the Newer prisoner. “Make sure you dodge or use that fancy dagger of yours. I hope it does something more than just look pretty on your hip.”

  Aldora glanced down at the Dagger of Protection then stepped back from the bars, ensuring the man couldn’t reach through and take it from her. The Dagger is all I have to keep me safe right now.

  A bell rang and the thunder of hundreds of feet thudded against the stones above the cells, making dust fall like grey and brown rain.

  “That’ll be the first lot of watchers,” warned the man. “Some of us will survive, but not many. Good luck, newbie.”

  “Um… thanks. You too,” replied Aldora, frowning slightly. Why’s he being nice to me? Is it pointless not to be?

  As the man returned to his spot, Aldora turned her attention away from him and over to the corridor between the cells. She looked up towards each of the two doorways, trying to see any sign of the little dragons from the night before. They must be kept somewhere when the fights take place, she thought. Else there would be visitors bitten. She started pacing back and forth in her cell, ignoring as four of the ex-fighters came and collected two prisoners from a cell at the other end of the room, dragging them out of the holding cells and pulling, sometimes pushing them towards the doorway. How’s the Dagger going to react to all this? She rose a fisted hand to her lips as her stomach twisted and bile flooded her mouth. It would be her turn soon.

  Around midday, the Dagger Bearer watched as two of the arena guards strolled towards her cell. Since the other prisoners had started to be dragged from their cells, Aldora had begun to pace restlessly in hers. Her stomach kept twisting and churning and her armpits were damp with the sweat of her growing fear. It gnawed at her, leaving her fingers trembling, and every past fear now seemed tiny in comparison. She would have to deal with the vomiting dragon on her own. Without Raneth. She ran a clammy hand over her hair, resisting the urge to yank it out of its ponytail and tie it back up, just to try and calm her hands’ shakes. She’d barely ever had to go into a dangerous situation without Raneth. She’d always had his back-up. His skills and experience. I was naïve to think the Quest was all me. Inspector Ian was right. Raneth did all the heavy-lifting when I looked for the Dagger. She cast her attention over to the other fighters she could see through her bars and noticed that they were all looking back at her. Must be my turn, she thought. She dry-retched as her stomach twisted tighter.

  One of the guards, a man with only the slightest hint of muscle, took from his trouser pocket a set of keys and slotted one into her cell door. Aldora’s mouth dried up as the other man stepped into her cell. He was the same height as Raneth, but with far more muscle than was sensible, and veins that popped at his temples and along his bare arms. His oversized hands reached for her as he strode into the cell, fingers ready to grab her. Aldora edged backwards, her right hand settling onto the grip of the Dagger of Protection. The man paused as he eyed the Dagger, then he frowned at her.

  “Come on, miss. Not now. You’ll need that fight in the arena.”

  “Just grab her arms and drag her out. If she can’t reach it–”

  “I know what I’m doing!” snapped the man in the cell, turning to face the other.

  Good opening. Better use what Raneth’s been teaching me. Aldora dared to dart close, and as the man turned to face her again she slammed her fist into the underside of his jaw. His head snapped back. She rushed past him, slammed the cell door shut, twisted and yanked the keys free. The skinnier man leapt at her and Aldora kicked his stomach, pleased when the hit struck home and knocked the man back. She threw the keys into one of the other cells and pounced into motion, running towards the nearest of the two doorways as she drew the Dagger.

  “I’ll get her!” snapped the smaller man, chasing after Aldora and looking briefly over his shoulder at his surprised colleague.

  Aldora ran down the corridor and ignored the heavy breaths and the slapping feet of her pursuer. She pushed herself hard, ignoring the stitch that was forming in her side. She spotted spilt blood in a shaft of light at the foot of some stairs. Stepping on the sticky blood, she almost slipped. She climbed to her feet and moved up the stairs just as the man’s fingers brushed against the back of her shoulder. On the top step she crashed into a metal barrier. She grabbed two of the bars and shook the obstacle, rattling it against the ceiling stones from where it had been dropped. No, no, no! She looked over her shoulder even as a hand grabbed her arm and yanked her around. Aldora lost her footing, falling against the man’s chest, and he wrapped an arm around her and took hold of the Dagger with his other hand.

  “Save your fight for out there, idiot,” he said, yanking her back down the stairs. “Where’d you learn to punch like that anyway?”

  “The royal official captain taught me,” growled Aldora. “He cares for me.”

  “He can’t save you now. You realise that, right?” asked the man as he yanked her down the last step. “When you’re out there,” he paused to pull her away from the stairs, further into the corridor, “you’ll have nobody but yourself to rely on. The crowd wants blood, too, so give them it.”

  “What do you care?” snapped Aldora. She yanked on her arm, but the man’s grip became tighter.

  “I didn’t join the arena by choice. Just like you. Survivors become servants of the arena and eventually we might pay for our own release. Eventually.” The man gave a tired sigh.

  “If you expect sympathy from me, you’re not getting any,” growled Aldora.

  He pushed her into a small room and pulled on a lever beside the doorframe. Aldora turned as metal bars glided down between them, stopping an inch from the floor.

  “Aim for the chest or head,” warned the ex-fighter, sliding the Dagger of Protection into her hand. H
e leaned against the wall opposite the doorway and folded his arms.

  The Dagger Bearer turned. The room was square and so small that there wasn’t any space to hold her arms out to either side of her. A latticed metal gate stood opposite the doorway she had been shoved through; it led into the arena’s fighting grounds. The floor was covered with bloodied sand, mostly brown, with spots of black where the blood was especially heavy. Aldora glanced down at the Dagger of Protection, taking some comfort from its presence. I’m not the useless girl I was when I saved the village four years ago. I’m trained now. I just have to power through any fear. I’ll survive this. I’m the Dagger Bearer with fight training from Raneth Bayre. I’m not a complete pushover anymore. She stepped close to the arena gate, trying to get a better view of the fighting grounds. She could see barely anything of note – bloodied sand and the tall walls of the arena’s fighting area. She couldn’t even see the faces of the audience, but she could hear them. A rumbling ripple of people talking filtered through from the doorway, assaulting Aldora’s ears, and then the mass of people started to quieten. Something must be going on.

  “Today we have a fantastic treat for you, courtesy of the Oreg inspectors!”

  Jeering erupted, and the stones above Aldora started to shed dust as feet all around the arena stamped.

  “Giften scum! The favoured woman of their despicable royal official captain! The same woman who the masses of Giften dross adore! Their clueless Dagger Bearer!”

  Arse! I’m not clueless. Aldora adjusted her grip on the Dagger as the booming voice continued.

  “As promised, we will treat you to the sight of an ancient fight brought back to life: a moth dragon against a Weapon of Protection Bearer! One Giften tale speaks of the Sword of Proof and the rampage of a moth dragon in Silmarhare Village–”

  “SHUT IT AND BRING OUT THE DRAGON!” roared someone near Aldora’s head, causing similar shouts and claps to explode around the arena. Aldora winced.

  “Very well! Newers have spoken! Bring them out!”

  The gate separating Aldora from the arena shuddered and dust and sand slipped from its bars. It rattled as the bottom of it swung out into the arena, and then a mechanism clunked somewhere above Aldora’s head and the gate was drawn into the room. When it was behind her its angle changed and the bottom kicked out at her, forcing her to step into the arena or face being impaled by the metal bars. As her feet disturbed the sand, the copper stench of blood tickled her nose and Aldora nearly gagged.

  She eyed the people staring at her from above, some crowding the edges of the fighting pit’s large stone walls, others standing in their seats, looking at her curiously, whilst even more were craning their heads to see her better. Above her, red strips of fabric flapped in a breeze she could barely feel across her skin. On the other side of the fighting pit, a large gate set into an alcove started to rattle. Aldora tried to ignore the quickening of her heartbeat. Squeezing the Dagger’s grip, she did a quick survey of the faces looking back at her, searching for Raneth in the crowd. Someone caught her eye, but it wasn’t Raneth; it was Pedibastet, sitting on the wall of the fighting pit. He looked back at her, his tail dangling down the inside of the pit, tapping against the wall. Does that mean Raneth is coming? she wondered.

  Snuffling came from the opposite alcove and the moth dragon slowly stepped out. It had short brown, dark red, orange, white and black fur mottled about its body, and as it lifted its head high and stepped further onto the sand, its paws left large dimples in its wake. Aldora frowned at it curiously, noticing that it had four wing vanes instead of two, which it didn’t fold away. Its head was the oddest part, though – unlike the sort of snout Raneth’s father had in his gift-form, this dragon had an almost elephant-like truck that was extended, and the end was like an unfinished hand with too many fingers twitching around its black edge. It seemed to point her way and the finger-like appendages wiggled at her before it started to approach.

  Its movement was slow, but as Aldora stood and waited, she noted that its feet were similar to Pedibastet’s and to those of Raneth’s griffin-self. Cat-like movement, she theorised, watching the back legs move as it stalked further into the arena. It might be able to move fast.

  “Well, it looks like our moth dragon isn’t extra hungry today! We’ll need to make it angry! We all have stones under our chairs today. No beating the people near you! Throw them at the dragon!”

  Aldora winced as a flurry of stones smashed against the dragon, several ripping through the thin skin of its wings and making it grumble before it started a low continuous growl. The Dagger Bearer yelped as a stone struck the side of her jaw. She raised the back of her hand to it and her hand came away with fresh blood smeared across it.

  “Not the girl, you idiots! We want a fight!”

  The moth dragon drew closer. Aldora sidled away to the left, nearing Pedibastet’s side of the arena. Pedi can’t help me. He’d better not jump in here. She could feel sweat sticking to the back of her top as she held the Dagger up slightly, pointing the blade’s tip towards the trunk of the moth dragon as it curled, above where it protruded from the bottom of the triangular head. A bubbling sound like that of a boiling kettle came from the dragon’s chest. Aldora stepped towards it, watching it closely. The trunk extended quickly and a stream of yellow liquid gushed towards Aldora. She dodged and watched the liquid splatter to the ground behind where she had been standing. The puddle steamed and the sand it touched changed colour, going from bloodied brown to black.

  Aldora turned her attention back to the moth dragon. OK. Acidic vomit, maybe. Better keep clear of that like that fighter warned.

  The dragon ran at her. Where do I run? She screamed and ran along the side of the arena, knees trembling under her. She gripped the Dagger hard. I’m not completely defenceless. She glanced over her shoulder; the moth dragon was just as fast as she was. It’ll come down to endurance. Raneth would make it bleed to turn the fight in his favour. I need to do the same.

  As if the moth dragon had sensed what she was thinking, it slowed, its tail swishing before slamming against the wall of the arena. Cracks ran up between the large bricks, ripping through the concrete between them, but the bricks stayed in place. Aldora pointed the Dagger at the moth dragon as it lowered its front nearer to the ground, its eyes trained on her. Its eyes were like those of a cat – the pupils were so wide they almost swallowed the brown iris, but enough of the yellow sclera remained to unnerve Aldora.

  The dragon’s trunk curled in on itself again, so Aldora jabbed the Dagger of Protection towards it. Lightning rushed down the blade from the hilt, twirling around the gold and then leaping off. It struck the moth dragon in the neck and chest. The crowd booed. The dragon shuddered and shrieked as its fur caught fire and it rolled against the sand, rubbing its chest against the ground. The Dagger Bearer backed away, the Dagger still pointed at the moth dragon. Please don’t get too angry, thought Aldora as it slowly climbed to its feet, tail slamming side to side so viciously that each time it connected with the ground, a flurry of sand rose into the air and the thump rumbled up through Aldora’s legs. It lowered its front at her again, its back end up high, wiggling side to side.

  “Aldora,” yelled Pedibastet, bounding his way across the wall of the fighting pit.

  Aldora looked up.

  “It’s going to pounce. Kill it. Quickly!”

  Bugger. The Dagger Bearer eyed the moth dragon then twisted at the torso, drawing the Dagger’s tip to the front of her right shoulder before sweeping it away as she extended her arm. A ripple of soft blue light ripped through the air where the blade sliced, smashing towards the moth dragon. The creature hunkered low and the ripple missed and smashed against the brick wall behind it. Nice! Something new, but it didn’t help. Try something else. Aldora jabbed the Dagger forwards again. Think of lightning. Yet the Dagger did nothing.

  The tail of the dragon swept side to side. Then the wiggle of its hips intensified and its tail stilled and lowered to the ground.
It leapt into the air, wings trailing behind it. Aldora crouched and jammed the Dagger’s tip into the sand. A blue orb and a second gold orb dropped from the edges of the guard. Aldora shut her eyes to the blinding light that erupted at her feet. The air around her crackled angrily, and the spectators started to holler. She heard the familiar pop and opened her eyes to see the two semi-transparent domes expanding in the arena, growing out from in front of her feet and moving through her as if she weren’t there.

  The moth dragon struck the yellow dome with its trunk but jerked back and batted at the magic with its paws, unable to penetrate the dome. It scrambled back from the blue and yellow domes, which continued to grow away from Aldora and pushed towards the arena walls. The blue dome overtook the yellow one and started to push the spectators back from their seats. The moth dragon sat between the blue and yellow domes, its chest bubbling as the yellow one inched closer to it, giving it less and less space.

  The yellow dome started to change shape, turning oval, like a squashed circle. It pushed at the walls and shoved the dragon towards them. The bricks, already weakened by the dragon’s tail, began to crumble under the pressure, until they started to fall back and away. Part of the wall crumbled inwards just as the yellow dome dissolved.

  The blue dome remained, still pushing people towards the outer edges of the arena. Aldora winced as the first person screamed and tumbled over the arena’s uppermost wall. The screams and shouts intensified as the blue dome pushed closer to the very edge of the arena, growing up from under the spectators so the only option they had was to fall backwards, out of the arena.

  Aldora scrunched her eyes tightly, shaking her head. This isn’t what I wanted to happen. I just wanted to be safe. Stop. A warmth spread over her hand that held the Dagger, like a ghost’s hand, before the blue orb faded into nothing. Those who had not been pushed over the edge fell back into the seats under them with cries of pain and alarm. Aldora returned her attention to the moth dragon; it was creeping towards the more broken of the arena’s walls. She eased slowly closer to it, careful to keep an eye on its tail so she wouldn’t be struck, but now the only movement came from the tip, the lower half of the tail remaining rigidly up in the air.