by T. Norman
Gant watched her until she was out of sight, and then turned back to Mic. “So what’s our plan?”
The look on Mic’s face was one he had never seen before. It wasn’t fear or anger, but rather, satisfaction and revenge. He had been waiting for this day for years.
“I’m going to draw Vas out, and you are going to kill him,” Mic stated.
Gant was shocked at seeing this new side to his friend. He was afraid, but knew they had to take drastic measures to save their friends. “All right, let’s do it. Lead the way.”
Mic started heading down a long hallway. As they moved around the coliseum, Gant heard a horn sound, signaling the first fight of the day. They had to get moving before it was too late.
48
Carn stood still, sweat dripping from his brow, blood from his blade. His whole body ached. He knew he had some serious injuries, but there was no chance he could stop fighting.
He looked up at Vas in the crowd. The man was sitting back in his chair scratching his chin. This was Carn’s fifth battle of the day, and he had yet to fall. First, with a group of slaves, he faced a bear. He and two others survived that encounter. Next, they faced a dozen guards; Carn was the only one to survive. After the guards, he endured two rounds of facing six armored soldiers, during which they continuously took his weapons away.
In the most recent round, they brought six more slaves in to join him as they released two lions into the pit. Again, Carn was the only one to survive.
He felt his thigh burn; one of the lions had bitten him before he killed it.
Carn watched as Vas waved a servant over to his seat. He whispered something into the man’s ear, and the servant quickly ran from his master’s seat. Carn knew the message concerned who he was to face next. The crowd slowly began a chant. They knew what was about to happen, as well.
Carn couldn’t quite make out the chant, but it sounded like they were calling out a name. Vas’s champion, he thought. This ought to be interesting.
Carn heard a door open behind him. He turned quickly, raising his sword. The pain in his leg flared up as he shifted awkwardly, fighting to stay on his feet.
He felt a pang of relief as he saw Rysh and Grenn run out of the tunnel.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” He greeted each man with a forearm embrace. Grenn, with his bulk, moved under his shoulder to help support him and take some weight off of his leg. Carn let out a sigh.
“Any idea what’s next?” Rysh scanned the fighting pit for a sign of what was to come, but everything was eerily still.
“I think it’s a champion fighter of some sort. Before you came in, the crowd was chanting a name. I couldn’t make out what they were saying.” Carn looked between the two men and asked, “How did you get in here?”
Rysh and Grenn exchanged a glance, each seeing if the other would answer. Rysh decided to speak up. “We kept seeing them bring bodies back in, and we knew eventually it would be yours. So we might have caused a scene in the cell. They decided they might as well send us out here and make a show of it.” Rysh actually smiled as he spoke.
Carn was impressed with their quick thinking. He also knew they were lucky the guards didn’t just kill them on the spot. “Loot the bodies,” he instructed his friends, gesturing to the dead soldiers. “There are still some weapons lying around. I’m guessing we’re going to need them.”
Rysh quickly searched the surrounding area, finding a short sword and shield for himself and a large hammer for Grenn. Carn swung his own sword a few times, working his muscles back into motion. He pulled a dagger from where it had been stabbed in a body and slid it into his belt.
The gate across from them opened up, and six chariots came into the arena. They immediately began circling around the ring. The riders had whips and took turns cracking them at the three men. The riders were just out of their range, limiting the movements of the prisoners.
The chariots slowed to a stop, taking up positions surrounding Carn, Rysh, and Grenn.
Carn saw a man walk out of the tunnel and instantly knew this was the champion. He was shirtless, showing the scars covering his chest and back, and he wore a wrap around his head, covering most of his face so that only his eyes showed. Carn tried to take stock of the weapons this man was carrying. On one hip he had a whip, on the other an axe. On his back was a staff, and Carn could tell that two more daggers were strapped to his ankles.
The stranger stopped just inside the circle of chariots. The whole stadium was silent in anticipation. The man suddenly threw his arms in the air and the crowd erupted in cheers. Carn could make out the name being chanted: Dallan.
“Carn, let Grenn and I take care of him. You can barely move on that leg.” Rysh stepped forward to face the man. Grenn stepped up next him, swinging his hammer. They were both ready to fight.
Grenn and Rysh moved to circle Dallan. The guards on the chariots kept them from getting too far away, cracking their whips. In a flash Grenn and Rysh lunged forward, trying to take the champion by surprise. Carn watched, amazed, as Dallan moved with blinding speed away from the two men, simultaneously drawing his whip. He whipped it around Rysh’s ankle, pulling him to the ground. He had his axe drawn as he lunged, trying to land a killing blow.
Grenn was able to get a swing of his hammer in, sending Dallan off balance and away from Rysh, who was able to roll to his feet.
Grenn rushed forward, still swinging his hammer. Dallan’s whip caught it beneath the head, and with a simple pull, it was ripped from Grenn’s hands. He continued his rush, facing the armed man with his fists.
The first axe swing missed by inches, giving Grenn time to grab his hand. The two were locked hand-in-hand until Dallan head-butted Grenn in the nose. The man stumbled away dazed. Rysh was able to intercept Dallan’s killing blow with his shield. However, the axe penetrated the rotting wood, rendering it useless.
Dallan stepped away, placing his axe on his belt. He drew the staff from his back. He planned on toying with these two, making a show of it.
Carn didn’t know how long it went on, but Dallan was able to repeatedly disarm Rysh and Grenn, leaving them nothing with which to defend themselves. His staff whipped through the air, making a screaming sound as it collided with their bodies.
Carn couldn’t bear to watch any longer and stepped forward. Dallan noticed his movement, quickly landing blows to both Rysh and Grenn, sending them to the ground.
The champion turned to face Carn. Dallan bowed, indicating the real reason he had been sent into the arena. Rysh and Grenn weren’t part of the plan; he was meant to challenge Carn and prove that he was still worthy of being Vas’s champion.
Carn clenched his jaw in pain. He would have to finish this fast, before his leg gave out. Dallan rushed him, swinging his staff through the air. Carn easily deflected the object and held his ground by countering after his parries. Unfortunately, the reach of the staff and Carn’s immobility allowed Dallan to stay out of reach.
Carn only had a few options. Dallan swept in on his right, trying to push Carn’s weight onto his injured leg. Carn shifted his weight to his right side, meeting the blow as it hit. Carn winced in pain as he felt a few ribs break. He dropped his sword and quickly grabbed Dallan’s staff with his right hand. Carn quickly pulled the staff toward him, sending the champion stumbling forward. Carn used his left hand to pull the dagger from his belt and swing at Dallan. He wasn’t surprised when the man avoided the initial blow, but as Carn kept pulling on the staff, Dallan tumbled to the ground.
Carn shifted the staff so that it stretched across Dallan’s chest as he knelt on it, immobilizing the man. Dallan fought and struggled to move, but he was helpless. Carn landed a few blows to the man’s face, hoping to keep him still.
Grenn and Rysh made a move to help Carn, but a chariot rolled between the men and their friend. They weren’t meant to interfere.
Carn grabbed the wrap around the man’s head and ripped it free. He wanted to be able to look at the man he was
going to kill.
A woman screamed in the stands as Carn looked down not at a man, but a boy. A large scar spread from the boy’s brow to his cheek.
“Finish it already,” Dallan spat at Carn. “I’m a disgrace.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Carn said. How someone so young could turn into a coldblooded killer was beyond him.
Dallan continued to struggle. “If you aren’t going to kill me, then get off of me so I can end this fight now.”
Carn landed a solid blow to Dallan’s temple, knocking him unconscious. As Carn stood, he heard more screams erupt from the crowd. He looked up, searching the scene, when he noticed Vas was standing in his tent with his sword raised.
A man stood below him. Even though Carn could only see his profile, he recognized him immediately. Mic, what are you doing here?
Then Carn noticed the body of one of Vas’s servants laying at his feet, an arrow sticking out from his chest. He scanned the area to find the archer. He had an inkling of who it could be.
A few rows above in the stands, Carn found Gant standing with a bow in hand, a second arrow nocked and ready to fire.
Everything seemed to stand still for a moment, before the stands erupted in chaos. Spectators started fleeing out of the stands as fast as possible, while guards made their way toward Gant and Mic.
To Carn’s surprise, a handful of individuals rose from their seats and drew weapons, charging at the guards instead of aiding their defense.
Carn smiled and thought, It’s time to get out of here.
49
Amalia rode through the gates of Bravestone and immediately dismounted her horse in search of Captain Gabe Fallan. She had heard a rumor about Zaren’s fate and needed confirmation from a man she trusted.
She found Gabe in the mess hall, sitting in silence and eating with some other soldiers. Amalia ran up to him, causing his head to turn. As he saw her, Gabe stood from the table and led her out of the hall and into the courtyard.
“My Lady, it is good to see you again.” Gabe’s voice was empty and cold. Amalia could tell from the bloodstains on the ground and walls that it had been no easy task taking this fort, and knew many men had lost their lives.
“I need you tell me honestly, is it true what happened to Zaren?” She didn’t want to play around with small talk.
Gabe frowned as he looked into her eyes. Amalia began to weep before he could say a word. Captain Fallan wrapped his arms around her and Amalia let her tears flow onto the captain’s shoulder.
“How did it happen?” Amalia stepped back, trying to compose herself.
Gabe shook his head. “My Lady, I would prefer to spare you the details.”
“No, I need to know.”
Gabe sighed, dropping his shoulders as he surrendered to the determined woman. “There was no way to break in, so Zaren scaled the cliffside at night, making his way to the eastern gate. When we attacked, he waited for the eastern gate to open and for riders to be sent out. He made his way through the gate and fought through to the western courtyard.” Gabe paused, not wanting to continue.
Amalia took a deep breath. She didn’t want to ask her next question, but she needed to know. “How did he die?”
Gabe slowly shook his head, not wanting to tell her the details, but he knew she wouldn’t relent. “We don’t know for sure. We were attacking the fort, waiting for the gate to open, when all of a sudden it creaked open slightly. We quickly pulled it open and marched in to find Zaren laying on the ground, badly wounded.”
Amalia stared off into the distance. She had told him to be safe. “Where’s his body now?”
“It was,” Gabe paused, seeing the sorrow on Amalia’s face. “He was taken inside. They were cleaning and dressing him for burial.”
Amalia nodded, no words left. Turning from Captain Fallan, she walked up the steps and onto the battlement, wishing to be left alone.
Amalia was halfway around the battlements when she noticed two riders approaching from the west. She immediately recognized her brother, and wasn’t the least bit surprised to see him riding in Lady Velmar’s company. They entered through the gate, dismounting their horses quickly and walking into the fort.
Curious, Amalia decided to follow the two and quickly ran down the battlements in pursuit. She watched them ascend a number of steps in the castle up one of the towers. She stayed a distance behind to go unnoticed as they approached the top of the large staircase.
At the top of the steps, she watched as they went through a door and entered a large chamber. Amalia knew what that chamber held.
Amalia marched confidently toward the door. The guards stepped in front to block her way. “I am Lady Amalia Stowen of Gold Pass,” she informed them imperiously. “I believe my presence has been requested at the small council meeting.”
The two guards looked at each other, and without saying a word, they stepped aside and allowed her to enter.
Every head turned as Amalia entered the large room. She quickly took stock of everyone within. Allister sat at the head of the table, with Lady Velmar, Tyrell, and Brother Greydel sitting on his left and Master Puck and General Tenue on his right.
“Nice of you to join us, Lady Stowen.” Allister gave her a devious smile. He gestured for her to take the open seat next to Master Puck.
Amalia noticed that Prince Stowen was absent from the meeting. She hadn’t heard any reports of him being injured in the siege and wondered where he was.
“Now that we’ve taken the fort, we need to prepare for their army to mobilize,” General Tenue said after Captain Fallan had left. “Their riders should arrive in Ellsdorf within the next day. We can expect their army here within a week.”
Lady Velmar spoke up. “It will take longer for the Dusseldorf army to mobilize. They don’t have a standing army as we do. They have five smaller forces spread throughout the land” she reminded those present, “and it takes time to gather men.”
Allister’s voice was stern and commanding as always when he said, “Lady Velmar is right, we have more time. Lord Stowen and his men should be reaching the Vur Desert soon. Lord Cread and his men will be landing on our shores shortly, as well.”
“What steps must we take to prepare for the coming battle?” Master Puck inquired.
“We are going to need to restock our supplies. Master Puck, take a score of men back to Vendos. I expect you back in a fortnight.”
Amalia was shocked when Tyrell spoke up. “Your Highness, if I might, I offer my services leading the men back to Vendos,” he said.
Allister looked from Tyrell to Lady Velmar. She simply offered him a shrug. “Very well, your men gave us a great service taking this fort. I give you leave to restock our supply.”
Tyrell nodded at King Stowen. Amalia could tell he was avoiding her gaze. He wasn’t acting like himself.
“General Tenue, you’re in charge of defending the fort. I want it fully fortified and prepared for an attack. I want our defenses outside the fort, as well. Set up trenches and a camp to the east.” Allister was determined to hold Bravestone at all costs.
Amalia wondered what Lady Velmar and Brother Greydel’s roles would be. To her disappointment, Allister ended the meeting before she could find out. “That’s all for now,” the king said. “Lady Velmar, if I could talk to you privately in my chambers.”
The council members rose from their chairs, making their ways out the door. Tyrell moved quickly, and Amalia tried to catch up to her brother. She knew he was trying to avoid her.
She followed him down a hallway, but lost him as he rounded a corner. Running ahead to catch him, she stumbled as she turned the corner and found him standing stone still, staring at her.
“Tyrell, you startled me.” Amalia rose from the ground, wiping off her dress.
“Why are you following me?” Tyrell’s voice was cold. He turned and began walking away again, slower this time. He meant for her to follow him. Amalia rushed forward, catching up to him. “I was worried about you. Wh
at made you want to go to Vendos?”
He turned to look at her coldly, his eyes piercing right through her. Something about him was very different. “My decisions are none of your business.” He looked forward again, focusing on his next step.
Amalia and Tyrell didn’t speak, but simply walked in silence. Tyrell took a few turns, leading higher up in the fort. Eventually they came upon a large door. Tyrell opened it and gestured for Amalia to walk through. She went through the door to find herself standing at the top of one of Bravestone’s towers. The wind whipped at her clothes.
Tyrell stepped through the door as well, closing it behind him.
“So are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“No.” Tyrell drew a knife from his belt, holding it out in front of himself. “I’m going to show you.”
Amalia immediately raised her hands in defense, stepping away from her brother. “Tyrell, what are you doing?”
He stepped forward, slashing at her palm. Amalia felt her skin tear as blood poured from her palm. Grasping at her hand, she stepped away further and bumped into the stone ledge.
Tyrell had his eyes closed, a smile working its way across his cheeks. “Father always told me I was worthless, that I would never be as strong as him until I learned how to fight.” He opened his eyes and stared at his sister.
Amalia started to shake. He was going to kill her. She knew it deep in her bones.
Tyrell flexed his fingers. Putting his knife back in his belt, he walked toward his sister. Then, reaching out his hand, he lifted Amalia off the ground.
Amalia started to panic when she saw that his hand wasn’t touching her—it was inches away from her neck, and yet she was floating in the air.
“I have more power than Father ever will. First I am going to kill you, then I am going to kill him.”
Amalia was gasping for breath, her arms pinned at her side. She tried to speak, to do anything to fight, but she was helpless.