The Warrior

by Joseph Delaney

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Rules of Combat

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  1: The Death Gambit

  2: A Dangerous Invitation

  3: Crossing the Barrier

  4: Death from the Air

  5: The Grey City

  6: Death

  7: The Stone Bridge

  8: Leif the Scholar

  9: The Museum of Lights

  10: The Art of War

  11: Barsk and Orl

  12: Something Touched My Neck

  13: We Rule the Stars

  14: Leif the Warrior

  15: Glad Tidings

  16: Hope they Never Find Out

  17: The Sycoda Shatek

  18: My Lord is Merciful

  19: The Breath of the Wolf

  20: My Name is Kwin

  21: The Wheel of Revenge

  22: The Emissary

  The Midgard Glossary

  About the Author

  Also by Joseph Delaney

  Extract from Dark Assassin

  Copyright

  About the Book

  THE WORLD NEEDS A WARRIOR

  It is time to take down the monsters who have imprisoned humankind.

  A FIGHTER TO BATTLE THE DARKNESS

  Kwin is the first female combatant ever to enter the often deadly Arena 13. But even she might not be able to defeat the diabolical killer Hob.

  THE ODDS ARE AGAINST THEM

  After his successes on Arena 13’s fighting floor, Leif ’s journey takes him into a world where few humans would dare to venture.

  Kwin and Leif have both picked fights they can’t hope to win.

  BUT FREEDOM MIGHT BE WORTH DYING FOR

  For Marie

  RULES OF COMBAT

  PRIMARY RULES

  The objective of Arena 13 combat is to cut flesh and spill blood. Human combatants are the targets.

  No human combatant may wear armour or protective clothing of any kind. Leather jerkins and shorts are mandatory; flesh must be open to a blade.

  An Arena 13 contest is won and concluded when a cut is made to one’s opponent and blood is spilled. This can occur during combat or may be a ritual cut made after a fight is concluded. If it occurs during combat, hostilities must cease immediately to prevent death or serious maiming.

  If death should occur, no guilt or blame may be attached to the victor. There shall be no redress in law. Any attempt to punish or hurt the victorious combatant outside the arena is punishable by death.

  The right to make a ritual cut is earned by disabling one’s opponent’s lac or lacs.

  The defeated combatant must accept this ritual cut to the upper arm. The substance kransin is used to intensify the pain of that cut.

  An unseemly cowardly reaction to the ritual cut after combat is punishable by a three-month ban from the arena. Bravery is mandatory.

  Simulacra, commonly known as lacs, are used in both attack and defence of the human combatants.

  The min combatant fights behind one lac; the mag combatant fights behind three lacs.

  For the first five minutes combatants must fight behind their lacs. Then the warning gong sounds and they must change position and fight in front of them, where they are more vulnerable to the blades of their opponent.

  A lac is disabled when a blade is inserted in its throat-socket. This calls the wurde endoff; the lac collapses and becomes inert.

  Arena 13 combatants may also fight under Special Rules.

  SPECIAL RULES

  Grudge match rules

  The objective of a grudge match is to kill one’s opponent. All Primary Rules apply, but for the following changes: • If blood is spilled during combat, hostilities need not cease; the fight continues.

  • After an opponent’s lac or lacs have been disabled, the opponent is slain. The throat may be slit, or the head severed from the neck-the decision belongs to the victor. The death blow is carried out by either the victorious human combatant or his lac.

  • Alternatively the victor may grant clemency in return for an apology or an agreed financial penalty.

  Trainee Tournament rules

  The objective of this tournament is to advance the training of first-year trainees by pitting them against their peers in Arena 13. For the protection of the trainees and to mitigate the full rigour of Arena 13 contests, there are two changes to the Primary Rules: • The whole contest must be fought behind the lacs.

  • Kransin is not used on blades for the ritual cut.

  A challenge from Hob • When Hob visits Arena 13 to make a challenge, a min combatant must fight him on behalf of the Wheel.

  • All min combatants must assemble in the green room, where that combatant will be chosen by lottery.

  • Grudge match rules apply, but for one: there is no clemency.

  • The fight is to the death. If the human combatant is beaten then, alive or dead, he may be taken away by Hob. Combatants, spectators and officials must not interfere.

  SECONDARY RULES

  Blades must not be carried into the green room or the changing room.

  No Arena 13 combatant may fight with blades outside the arena. An oath must be taken at registration to abide by that rule. Any infringement shall result in a lifetime ban from Arena 13 combat.

  Spitting in the arena is forbidden.

  Cursing and swearing in the arena is forbidden.

  Abuse of one’s opponent during combat is forbidden.

  In the case of any dispute, the Chief Marshal’s decision is absolute. There can be no appeal.

  The dead do dream.

  They dream of the world of Nym and twist hopelessly

  within its dark labyrinths,

  seeking that which they can never reach.

  But for a few, a very few, a wurde is called.

  It is a wurde that summons them again to life.

  Cursed are the twice-born.

  Amabramsum: the Genthai Book of Wisdom

  PROLOGUE

  MATH

  When Math glimpsed the west bank of the River Medie, his heart soared. He was almost home. Ahead, in the far distance, was the Barrier that enclosed Midgard, a black mass of cloud and mist that reached from the ground high into the sky, writhing and churning as if it was alive.

  It had been created by the djinn after they defeated and destroyed the Human Empire in a great battle long ago. Now the last few thousand humans were trapped within it, permitted to live out their little lives as long as they did not attempt to cross.

  Soon he would be back within that Barrier, safe from those who pursued him – or so he thought.

  But now Math glanced back and, to his dismay, saw riders watching him from the top of the rise, dark silhouettes against the grey sky. They had caught him at last.

  He counted them quickly. There were thirteen.

  In truth, twenty-six, not thirteen, creatures were watching him. Advancing down the hill towards him were barska and orla – binary djinn, each a double entity. Each barsk rode an orl, a creature with a massive head covered in dark scales, its double row of teeth angled slightly backwards into a mouth dripping with silver saliva. It ran upon two sturdy legs, and its elongated hands had four fingers and an opposable thumb. Each digit terminated in a murderous sharp talon.

  Their riders, the barska, were even more daunting. Although roughly human in shape, each had four arms. Two were used to grip black spurs of bone jutting from the armoured neck of the orl, while two gripped weapons: a spear and a blade.

  The barska wore black armour and leather gloves. The head was covered with a conical helmet, a nasal strip protecting the nose. Only the face was vulnerable to the thre
e weapons carried by Math – a short sword, a shield and a bow. The round shield was not merely for defence; its rim was razor-sharp and could inflict terrible damage on an adversary.

  Math was on foot and would be hard-pressed to defeat just one such binary djinni. Against thirteen such entities he stood no chance at all. He was as good as dead.

  For weeks he had been journeying back towards his homeland of Midgard. Under cover of darkness, he had made his way south, knowing that he would be followed by the barska and orla, the deadly servants of the powerful asscka djinn who dwelt north of the High Wall; knowing that he would be slain.

  For he had done something that was forbidden to all humans – he had dared to cross the Barrier. The penalty for that was death.

  In addition to fleeing for his life, he had performed one important task. He had drawn a map detailing the route he had taken. He would give it to his people, the Genthai. One day they hoped to ride across the Barrier, defeat the djinn and, by force of arms, take back for humans the whole world. His map would show them the way.

  So now, at last, they had caught him. He was so close to home – but not close enough. He would die on the riverbank, within sight of the Barrier that enclosed his homeland.

  But then Math was given a sliver of hope. The line of djinn halted and only a single barsk and orl charged down the slope towards him.

  Did they have some sense of honour? Would they only fight him one at a time? he wondered.

  Math placed his sword and shield at his feet, nocked an arrow to his bow, drew it back and tensed, holding his breath. He waited calmly for a target to present itself.

  The djinn was almost upon him when that target became visible.

  His arrow flew fast and true, and found the eye to the left of the helmet’s nose guard, burying itself right up to the flight feathers. It had gone deep into the brain, and the barsk fell backwards off its mount, all four arms convulsing and desperately reaching for the arrow.

  Math dropped his bow, and just had time to take up his sword and shield before the orl reached him. He rolled aside, and its two massive feet thundered past before circling to come at him again. He noted that the barsk was still on the ground, writhing in what seemed to be its death throes.

  But the orl was a formidable opponent, the massive dinosaur head swinging from side to side as it bore down on him, the thin arms and taloned hands reaching out, ready to rend and tear his flesh. He used the curved edge of his shield to slice away those arms just short of the elbow. They spurted black blood, and the orl let out a scream.

  He spun away from it, but not before lunging for its face with his sword. The weapon went deep into the bridge of its nose, slicing across both eyes. The orl ran on unsteadily, the stumps of its arms still spraying blood. It blundered blindly on into the river and, within seconds, still shrieking, had been borne away by the fast current.

  The sounds of distress grew fainter and fainter, until all was silent. Math stared up at his enemies. No doubt they hadn’t expected him to be victorious. But before he’d ever fought in Arena 13, Math had been a warrior, skilled in the use of sword and bow.

  It was too much to hope for – to face another single barsk – and indeed the creatures moved down the slope in two columns to encircle him. Slowly that circle tightened as they advanced. Math spun on his heels, still holding up his shield and his sword, but it seemed likely that they would all attack at once. The best he could do was inflict some damage on one of his enemies.

  As he moved, Math was aware of the weakness in his left leg – the old injury he’d received in Arena 13. It reduced his mobility, and the long walk had put it under increasing strain.

  It was then that the light suddenly faded. The sun was hidden by cloud, but it was close to noon and the sky had been bright. Why was it suddenly becoming so dark? he wondered.

  Math didn’t dare take his eyes off his enemies, but he noticed that the barska and orla were no longer looking at him. They were staring up at the dark cloud, which was descending rapidly.

  Math glanced upwards too, and felt a moment of fear. He knew what it was. That dense black cloud was swooping down like a flock of birds, though it was something far more deadly.

  These winged creatures were the gungara, creatures of the djinn that were used to devour and absorb the mind and tissue of their enemies. The barska and orla had no doubt summoned them. Within seconds, he reflected, only his skeleton would remain.

  Instinctively, but knowing that it was useless, Math held his shield above his head. All around him he heard the beating of wings. He thought they had come for him, but to his surprise they attacked the enemies that surrounded him. He glimpsed jaws and teeth dripping with blood, and heard the shrieks of the barska and orla as they were shredded and devoured. He knew that djinn often fought djinn – these gungara must be the enemies of those who had attacked him.

  Math still feared that they would come for him next, and waited for those teeth to sink into his own flesh. He was afraid but resigned. He took a deep breath and waited for death.

  But nothing happened.

  He crouched there, still holding the shield above his head, as the darkness gradually gave way to light again. The gungara were taking flight, soaring upwards, leaving him untouched.

  Math looked at the ground around him. It was soaked in black blood; despite their scaly armour, the flesh of the barska and orla had been stripped, leaving only bloody bones. And the eye-sockets of each entity had been split open, the eyes torn out and the brains devoured.

  But why had he been spared?

  He stared up at the dark flock of gungara wheeling above. Suddenly they formed a distinct shape against the light grey of the clouds. That shape was unmistakable. It was the head of a wolf.

  The gungara belonged to a lupina djinni – the Trader Math had been travelling with before being forced to flee.

  The Trader had saved him.

  Now he could go home and give the map to his people.

  Math was the great hero of Arena 13. He had defeated Hob fifteen times before being forced to retire because of his injury.

  But that was in the past. Now he had a future: he was destined to marry a woman called Shola, whom he would love more than life itself. They would have a son called Leif. Math would enjoy twelve years of happiness before the evil djinn Hob slew his wife and brought about his own death.

  But his son would survive and live on to fight in Arena 13.

  Leif would seek revenge for what had been done to his family.

  THE DEATH GAMBIT

  The Mihalick Manoeuvre is the riskiest tactic for any human combatant. It invariably results in death or maiming.

  The Manual of Trigladius Combat

  LEIF

  It was the last night of the Arena 13 season.

  Somewhere out of sight a bass drum began to beat like a throbbing heart. As the huge thirteen-branched candelabrum descended, illuminating Arena 13 with yellow light, Pyncheon, the Chief Marshal, appeared to announce the first of the evening’s contests. He wore a broad red sash over his black gown, and carried a long thin silver trumpet.

  He remained the highest authority here in the Wheel, but things had changed. Although he still strutted across the arena and was a member of the expanded Wheel Directorate that now ruled Gindeen, he’d lost much of his power.

  Pyncheon had always been arrogant. I smiled to myself as I thought of the distaste with which he would view this first contest on tonight’s List.

  The tiers of plush red-leather seats were packed to capacity, with almost as many women as men among the spectators.

  An anticipatory hush had fallen over the gallery. We could now hear the sound of boots approaching the minos door of the arena, through which the combatants fighting with one lac entered. My heart thudded in my chest as the first combatant entered ahead of the armoured lac. It was Kwin.

  She walked forward confidently and stood facing the Chief Marshal before taking up her combat position behind her lac. Lacs w
ore full metal armour and were strong and fast, their manoeuvres guided by the patterns placed within their minds. The only way they could be downed was when a blade was inserted into their throat-socket, which was held in place by an iron collar. This called up a patterning wurde called endoff, which immediately brought the lac crashing to the arena floor.

  The spectators were here to see history made, and my mouth was dry with excitement and fear.

  I was not afraid for myself. I had fought and won my final contest the previous evening. I was just a spectator. I was afraid for Kwin – although I was excited for her too.

  I knew how much this meant to her: she was about to fight in Arena 13, the first female ever to do so.

  The audience erupted with excitement. There was wild cheering, and they began to stamp their boots on the floor. Kwin smiled up towards the gallery. She knew where I’d be sitting and her eyes sought mine. She waved at me and I waved back enthusiastically, pleased that her dream of fighting in Arena 13 was finally being realized.

  Then, as the first roar from the spectators began to subside, there was a new sound that caused the smile to slip from Kwin’s face.

  A group of middle-aged men seated in the front row began to boo. There were some in Gindeen who wished to keep to the old ways. The last thing they wanted was for women to be the equal of men. Some claimed their jobs were at risk; others that it was improper and against female nature to fight in Arena 13.

  But the women of Gindeen were out in force tonight and they began to cheer Kwin enthusiastically, chanting her name and blocking out the boos. They were dressed in silken finery, and most had painted their lips the traditional black – though a significant number had adopted the style first used by Kwin. She painted only her top lip black; the lower lip was the rich red colour of arterial blood.

  Her opponent, a man named Rubico, now entered the arena through the other, larger, door, the magus, with his three lacs. Both Kwin and Rubico wore the regulation leather shorts and jerkin, their flesh open to the blade, and you won a contest by cutting your opponent.