“I guess we have a plan then,” said Terran, staring up at the wall rising over the buildings. “Let’s say we make our attempt after midnight.”
“Time enough for a gladiator viewing?” asked Zara, hopefully.
“Time for a nap. I need to be on the ball once I sneak into Northam,” said Terran.
They returned to the Golden Kumquat. Della took a break from her duties to help him sleep, which required the exact opposite for a short time, before he was snoozing. Zara woke him after dusk. They made their way to the Northam wall, to a point directly between the two gates.
“The trick is you need to make your distractions at the same time to give me a window to run over the wall,” said Terran.
“Don’t worry,” said Zara, who had two sacks slung over her shoulder. One of them had clinked the whole way across the city, while the other seemed to move occasionally on its own. “We formulated a plan while you got your beauty sleep. Just be ready to move.”
Terran positioned himself in the shadows at the center of the wall. There were two Watch Owl stations that oversaw his section of the wall, but he would be splitting them down the middle when he ran over, assuming his companions had done their jobs. Waiting in the shadows gave him sweaty palms, which he rubbed against his pants. He was beginning to wonder if he’d missed the signal, when he heard an awful crash to his left, followed by a string of cursing that would have made a sailor blush. It sounded like Zara had spilled a bunch of bottles across the cobblestones, and was now going through the process of drunkenly trying to pick them up, but accidentally kicking them away from her outstretched fingers. A grin formed on his lips as he thought about the picture, wishing he had a chance to see it himself. When he checked the upper left Watch Owl, he saw it staring down at the left gate. Mission accomplished, Zara.
But the second Watch Owl was still rotating its brass head, eyes glaring in all directions. Terran worried that Luna had encountered a problem, then he heard a host of squeaking and calls of alarm. It wasn’t until he heard the cries of, “Rats!” that he realized Luna had collected a bagful of rats and had dumped them near the gate. When the watchful Owl turned its head towards the commotion, Terran placed his foot against the wall and began his quick march up its side.
Within ten feet or so, he wished he’d practiced this maneuver before attempting it, because the pull of gravity on his back made him feel like he was about to fall to his death at any moment. But the distractions wouldn’t work forever, so he pushed himself into a run, which felt like he was being held back.
When he crossed the peak, he thought he’d made it through the worst part, but facing downward and moving towards the ground was even harder. The momentum, which had his ankles straining as he moved, only made it worse, and he wished he had more core strength to hold himself perpendicular. He managed to reach the cobblestone streets inside Northam without bashing his face on the ground and quickly disappeared into the shadows ahead before the Owls returned to their unblinking watch.
[You have increased the skill Stealth]
Skill: Stealth (AGI) 11
Never has someone with such a lack of natural ability in a skill accomplished so much.
“Whew.”
Terran skulked through the streets, avoiding the occasional patrol and the few denizens of the district up at this hour. His hand kept reaching for the rose crystal, in case he encountered anyone and had need of a quick charm, but he was able to make his way to the Loganspire residence, which sat near the eastern interior wall. The building had more in common with a cathedral than a place to live, but matched the other residences, which each had a similarly outrageous theme. The worst house he saw had been built to look like a pirate ship with a functional drawbridge that raised and lowered.
Standing in the shadows, Terran leaned back to see the Watch Owl huddled in its cage on the spire. If he tried to move to the side door, the construct would see him and alert the guards. But now that he was inside the wall, he wondered if his pathway traveler ability could work. When he brought it up, he sensed there was something inside the residence blocking him, and he almost let it drop, but realized that there was a small spot near the far interior wall that he could reach.
Terran had become more accustomed to the extradimensional travel, so when he triggered it, stepping through the world to a new location, he didn’t want to fall over, even though his head spun a little bit. He appeared in the bathroom of the Nostram house, a lingering stench letting him know he’d narrowly missed showing up with someone on the commode.
A peek out the door proved the hallway empty, though he could hear someone awake and moving through the house. Terran had no idea if this Nostram had family. It seemed more likely that a snooty book collector would be a bachelor, but he wasn’t going to trust his first impression. Terran stepped into the hallway, hand on the rose crystal that was hanging around his neck.
The carpeted hallways went in multiple directions. Terran mused to himself, Where would I place the library? Having spent a painful amount of time with Zoras in the crystalline conservatory, and hearing his diatribes about the loving care of his tomes, Terran decided that the library would be in the largest portion of the building, beneath the cathedral spire. After a brief sneak up the stairs, he found a set of double doors, which thankfully opened to his touch.
Before sliding through, he glanced around with the suspicion that something seemed very wrong and that he should abandon his quest and get the hell out. But he’d come so far, and if he couldn’t find Andelain’s place of power, then everything he’d done would have been for nothing.
With the double doors shut behind him, Terran stood within a magnificent library. He almost whistled in admiration. The shelves went high up the wall, which could only be reached with a roll-around ladder. At the highest point of the room, a crystalline star reflected glimmering light upon the room, giving it a tranquil feel. There were display cases in alcoves, places of honor for special books. Zoras would love this place, even though as beautiful as it was, it had the soulless feel of great art being locked in a vault.
Terran ignored the shelves—and the tickling at the base of his shoulder blades—because a valuable book like the one he sought wouldn’t be found there, but in one of the cases. He perused the displays, searching for the title he expected, but not finding his target. The worry in his gut, the feeling that he was in the wrong place, brought a thin sheen of sweat to his forehead. His mind warred between Get out! and Stay and find the damn book!
There were no side doors in the library, which left him worrying about secret doors. Terran was back at the display cases, checking to make sure that he hadn’t missed something, when he heard a click in the deeper part of the room, where the shelves were thickest. Someone had entered the room. He could hear their patient steps on the carpet. Terran hurried towards the double doors before the person rounded the shelves and caught him.
When he reached for the double doors, they swung wide, revealing a smiling Estabario Fane, dressed in the finest apparel, his gold eyes regarding him keenly. As the realization that he’d walked into a trap fell upon his shoulders, he turned, only to see Graffel Lumperdunken step from behind the shelves, followed by a tall, hawk-nosed man that he had to assume was Nostram.
“See,” said Estabario, backing Terran into the room. “I told you he was going to steal from you.”
Terran searched for a quick exit, but he heard dozens of boots pounding up the stairs. He tried to teleport out of the room, but the crystalline star was blocking his extradimensional travel.
“Nice try,” said Estabario. “I wasn’t going to lose to that trick a second time.”
“It cost a fair amount of coin,” said Nostram, nodding towards the star. “But my good friend, Estabario, told me that you’d escape through the ether if I didn’t.”
“Bastard,” Terran said to Estabario.
The crime lord winked. “Yep. Maybe you should have thought of that before you waltzed into my home and s
howed me up in front of my crew.”
The halfling blacksmith marched over to Terran with a small crossbow in his grip. “And maybe you should find out who people are before you threaten them. Everyone in this city has friends. It’s important to know who they are before you make your move.”
Terran pulled his staff from his shoulder. “Fine. Have it your way. I’ll fight my way out of here. You’ll find I’m not as easy as you think.”
Estabario crossed his arms. “Not so fast, Offworlder. We know how this works. We kill you, you go right back to your home. But it was a good idea.” He shifted his mouth to the side. “Just a shame that your redheaded friend and cat aren’t here too. But you’ll have to do.”
Surrounded by the three men and a dozen guards, Terran lifted his staff to his mouth, preparing to rain destruction upon them, but before he could, Graffel shot him with the crossbow. As soon as the point went into his back, he knew he was poisoned. The world revolved around him until his back was on the floor. The last thing he saw was Estabario’s gold eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
The headache that rocked his world was only made worse by a stinging in his side. It took Terran a few moments to realize that he was, one, lying on hard stone, and two, a chip of stone had pierced his side. Terran rolled over to find himself in a small jail cell, stripped of his belongings, with a strange bracelet clamped on his left wrist and the overwhelming urge to urinate.
“About time, sleepyhead, I thought you were going to waste the day away,” said a gruff voice from the shadows. “We got lots to do.”
“Huh, what...what do we have to do?” asked Terran, mind still fuzzy.
“Not a damn thing until they shove us back into the arena for another fight,” said the gruff voice.
Terran climbed unsteadily to his feet, holding his hand to his gut. “Where’s the bathroom?”
A muscled arm extended into the light. “Ye old bucket in the corner. Don’t worry ’bout privacy. I promise I won’t look.”
The straining of his bladder made the feeling of embarrassment irrelevant as he relieved himself in the bucket, even going so far as groaning with relief. When he was finished Terran turned towards his cell companion.
“Thanks, that felt good. How long have I been out?” asked Terran.
“Eight, maybe nine hours. Time’s kinda hard to tell in here. It’s only on fight days does there feel like a schedule,” said the gruff voice.
“Fight days. So I’m in the gladiator arena,” said Terran.
“Not a thing gets past you.” The muscled figure rose into the light. He had ochre skin and two tusks sticking from his mouth. “I’m El.”
His grip was strong, and Terran could tell El was holding back. “Terran.”
“You a Rock Leaf Elf?” asked El, wrinkling his forehead.
“Sort of,” said Terran. “Leader of the Gneiss Glen. Champion of the Mother Tree.”
“That’s it then. You don’t look completely like one. An Offworlder, right?” asked El.
“Right again.” Terran leaned on the cell bars. “You been here long?”
El shifted his mouth to the side. “Time’s kinda lost meaning to me, but if I had to guess, it’s been almost three years, which is a long time to keep dying.”
“What the Abyss? They kill you over and over in the Arena? That’s barbaric,” said Terran.
El touched the bracelet on his wrist that matched Terran’s. “These do a number of things. The first is bind you to the Arena should you die, the second is to keep you from using magic they don’t want you to use, typically anything that would help you escape, and three, causes a great amount of pain if you do happen to escape. They can, of course, apply this pain if you decide not to follow their directions. I suggest you not test them on this one. It’s like having your insides burned out.”
“So they’ll be making me fight? How soon?” asked Terran.
El lifted a single shoulder. “Hard to say, but we don’t get many Offworlders in the gladiator pit.”
“Well, Zara wanted to see a match. She’ll get her wish now,” said Terran with a sigh.
“Girlfriend?” asked El.
“Friend. She’s a berserker. Tall redhead,” said Terran.
“Sounds like my kind of woman. You’ll have to point her out to me if we’re on the fighting grounds together,” said El with a wink.
“You’ll know who she is. She’s hard to mistake,” said Terran. “How did you get stuck here?”
“Captured by the Howling Wind. I was causing too much trouble in their prisoner camps, so they sold me to a trader who brought me here,” said El, smirking.
“Why didn’t they just kill you? You must have been important?” asked Terran.
El made a noise in the back of his throat, glancing askance. “Only a gardener. But it was just less complicated to keep me alive, that’s all.” He glanced upward. “Not getting out of here anytime soon. If ever.”
“You don’t look like any gardener I’ve ever seen,” said Terran.
El stroked the tusk sticking from his mouth. “I can make anything grow, if it should grow. But not everyone agrees with my passions.”
Terran squinted. “I’ll take your word for it. Anything I need to know about the Arena?”
“Most nights are straightforward fights, but occasionally they switch things up, add group matches, other oddities. Otherwise, fight to win, put on a good show, and maybe someday you’ll be good enough to fight your way out of here,” said El.
Terran straightened up. “There’s a way to get out?”
El shook his head. “Don’t get too excited. It’s damn near impossible.”
“I specialize in the impossible. What’s the catch?”
El chuckled. “Well, first, you have to be good enough to even earn the attempt, so don’t go thinking you can just ask to Run the Gauntlet. They won’t let ya until you’ve earned your stripes, which could take years. Second, Running the Gauntlet involves fighting in consecutive battles, the top three gladiators in the Arena to either death or a yield. No rest, no break. It’s brutal.”
You have been offered a quest: Earn the right to Run the Gauntlet at the Arena.
You might want to consider a magic trick to excite the crowd, but definitely no clowns.
“That can’t be that hard, right? Who are the top three champions?” asked Terran.
El shook his head. “You Offworlders are so optimistic, but I’ll play along. If you want to Run the Gauntlet, your first opponent will be Lionhall the Broken. He’s the creation of a mad wizard, a war construct that delights in causing pain. I hate fighting him. The second is The Lightning Twins. Yeah, yeah, I see your face. It’s just one person, but he has a way to duplicate himself in battle, makes fighting him a bitch. The last one, whew, she’s a doozy.”
“Let me guess, Heavenly Death,” said Terran.
“Seen the posters, eh? They don’t do her justice. It’s like she’s the living, beautiful embodiment of death. Just last night she took down a gang of eight Crag Trolls. Big mean ones too. I don’t think they did a single point of damage to her, not even with all their various weapons. It was a sight to behold,” said El wistfully.
The march of boots brought the prisoners to the cell bars. “Damn, is it that time already?”
A guard in Arena livery unfurled a scroll, cleared his throat, and called out in a booming voice: “For tonight’s events, the following prisoners will be fighting in the Arena. The warm-up match will be Smollette Green versus The Noxious One.”
From somewhere in the cells, someone said, “Sorry, Smollette. Bad luck for you.”
The other prisoners nodded in solidarity. Terran furrowed his forehead, which brought a whisper from El.
“The Noxious One prefers to fight for the True Death. It makes him vulnerable to the same, but he usually only battles the easiest prisoners. He’s a sadist, that one,” said El, nodding grimly.
“The second fight,” called out the guard, “shall involve the n
ewcomer Terran versus the Behemoth.”
El clasped his shoulder. “Not a terrible matchup. There could be worse.”
Having his name called sped up his heart. Even though he couldn’t die, the thought of fighting in front of a cheering crowd made his palms sweat. He was so enthralled with his thoughts that he almost missed the final announcement, “...El’Kar versus The Silent Hammer.”
From the other cells, the other prisoners shouted their encouragement. “You got this, El!”
“Tough fight?” asked Terran as a guard released him and El from their cell.
El lifted a confident shoulder. “I can take him. A few more wins and I can move to the Winners apartments.”
The three gladiators moved to a prep room filled with various implements of battle. The third fighter, Smollette, meandered through the racks, touching weapons and gear as if he were browsing at a supermarket while El marched straight to the corner. The tusked gladiator slid bracers onto his thick arms with the ease of a professional.
Terran approached the guard. “Will I be given my regular equipment for the fight?” A snort and head bob was the only answer he received. “Right. Thanks.”
He checked a few racks, considering swords or bows, but ultimately decided it was best if he stuck to what he knew: his voice and earthen magic. When El was fully equipped in a simple breastplate, vambraces, and wrist guards, carrying a simple solid metal spear, he approached Terran, eyebrow raised.
“You’re not a pacifist, are you?”
“Nope. None of this gear works with my skill set,” said Terran.
“Mage?”
Terran wasn’t sure how much he wanted to give away. “I can hold my own.”
El nodded with approval. “Good choice. You never know if the guards will squeal to your opponent for a few coins.”
“Is this your normal setup?” asked Terran.
“I vary it depending on my opponent,” said El, spinning the spear in his hand expertly.
The three gladiators gathered near the tunnel that led to the fighting field. Smollette looked like he was going to throw up. He wore a chain shirt and open-faced helmet, and he carried a sword that he kept gripping with both hands. When Terran caught El’s eye, the experienced gladiator softly shook his head.
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