Arren and Merin forced Selena to watch as Galen butchered mantoreans in the foothills. The city guard toyed with some bax infants, carrying them into the air on their wyverns before dropping them from a height to the rocks below. The two mystics controlled Selena’s casting for hour after hour, and sometimes the city guard brought home prisoners for the arena.
Galen never showed any emotion. The cold-faced commander butchered every non-human he and his men came across.
Blood flowed in the Rift Valley and beyond.
Selena was given a bigger room, with an oval window that at least let in some fresh air. The Protector even provided fresh clothing and a bone comb. He gave her water to wash the dirt from her hair and face.
She often saw Ruth, cleaning, carrying linen, or serving tea. Ruth was in the tower at all times of day and Selena guessed that, like her, she must have quarters inside. But every time Selena tried to catch her eye, Ruth’s mouth tightened and she gave a barely noticeable shake of her head. Once, when Arren and Merin were talking in the corridor, Selena tried to take the opportunity to speak with her, but Ruth looked panicked and rushed away.
Meanwhile, the things Selena had seen and done gave her nightmares. She knew that there were many more bax in the Rift Valley and hoped that they had the sense to flee.
The Protector was pleased. He made no secret of his hope that Blixen himself would soon fall under the commander’s sword.
28
Taimin glanced at the slim man seated across from him at the long wooden table. There hadn’t been much conversation over the midday meal. Usually Vance was talkative, making expansive gestures while he told stories from his time as a weapons trader in the city. But today his face was pale and he had barely opened his mouth to speak or eat. As the other prisoners finished and left the table, Vance stayed where he was, staring down at his untouched plate.
As soon as he and Vance were alone at their section, Taimin leaned forward. “It’s just you and me. Out with it.”
Vance looked up at him, and Taimin saw more than worry in the man’s eyes. His jaw was tight. He could barely hide his fear. “The guards told me I’m going to be fighting a wyvern.” He let out a breath. “I knew my luck couldn’t last forever.”
Taimin knew there must be more to it. “You’ve survived this long.”
Vance shook his head. “It’s got blood madness. One scratch and I’ll have blood madness too. You’ll have to put me down like an animal while I try to gouge out your eyes.”
Taimin became truly concerned. Fear was the greatest enemy of all. It was a heavy weight to bear and dragged at the limbs, causing hesitation when decisiveness was needed. He realized that it wasn’t just death that Vance feared; it was the manner of his passing. Vance needed to face down his fear or he would die.
He met Vance’s gaze and spoke firmly. “You’re not going to go mad. I know about these things. Humans can get blood madness from a firehound’s bite, but not from a wyvern.”
Vance raised his gaze. “Really?” He frowned, puzzled. “Why not?”
“I don’t know, but it’s something Abigail told me.”
“I can’t catch it?”
Taimin hesitated for the briefest instant. “No.”
Some of the tightness left Vance’s face.
“Like you said to me, just focus on the fight,” Taimin said. “You’ll still have to work hard. Even with clipped wings a wyvern can still bite and scratch. It’ll be angry, without doubt. I can give you some advice, if you like.”
“Anything.”
Taimin wondered if this was what it had felt like for his aunt when she taught him to fight the creatures of the wasteland. “First, wyverns are flyers, so they’re used to looking down. Use your height, and try to get above it and strike down. Also, their skin is soft under the wing. It’s a good place to strike.”
Vance gave Taimin a weak smile and returned to something like his usual self. “Thanks.”
“Do you think they’d let you have a spear?”
Vance snorted. “I’d have just as much luck getting a bow and half a dozen aurelium-tipped arrows. Or a steel sword made by Manis the blacksmith.”
“Don’t forget,” Taimin said, “it’s just a wyvern.”
“Just a wyvern,” Vance repeated. “Unfortunately for me, I wasn’t trained by Abigail.”
Taimin pictured his aunt, pushing him hard, tending her garden, grumbling about Griff sleeping in the doorway. His thoughts then turned to Griff. He knew he had broken the wherry’s heart by driving him away, and, although he didn’t regret saving his life, he missed him. Now and then he pictured his bounding friend, panting and grinning as he hunted lizards. He had to believe that Griff was happy and free.
Vance shook his head as he continued. “I still can’t believe you defeated a hellstinger and Sarg, all in the same fight. I wish I’d seen Galen’s face.”
Taimin lowered his voice. “Why am I still alive?” Enough time had passed for his wounds to heal after his last fight, and he had yet to be called up again.
Vance shrugged. “Be glad. It’s the arena. They keep bringing in more prisoners every day. They’re probably saving something special for you.”
Taimin turned to scan the prisoners’ quarters. Most of the newcomers scattered throughout the long room were human—a skinny and downcast bunch, imprisoned for stealing water or shirking work—but his gaze also took in some recently arrived bax from the Rift Valley. At least the two trulls weren’t around anymore.
Returning his attention to Vance, Taimin glanced at the untouched plate of food in front of his friend. “Going to eat that?”
Vance picked up a hunk of pink razorgrass bread. But as soon as he put it to his mouth, his eyes shot wide open.
He could hear the guards calling his name.
Taimin and Rathis watched through the bars of the lowered portcullis as Vance fought the wyvern. Taimin’s knuckles were white as he gripped the wooden bars and his stomach clenched every time Vance dodged the ferocious creature’s teeth and claws.
“He fights well,” Rathis said. “The overhead blows are effective.”
“Look at it, though—it’s mad,” Taimin said. The wyvern’s jaws snapped together, narrowly missing Vance’s sword arm. “The wing!” he cried. “Strike under the wing!”
“Thank you for helping him overcome his fear,” the old skalen said. “I was not aware that transmission of blood madness could not take place between wyverns and humans.”
“I lied,” Taimin said. “Look out!” he shouted as a swipe of the wyvern’s foreleg carved the air between the two combatants.
“You lied?” Rathis’s eyes widened.
“He was more afraid of blood madness than being killed. As scared as he was, he would have lost.”
Rathis tilted his head back, and a hissing sound came from his throat that Taimin realized was laughter. “Well done, young warrior. You would make a fine leader.”
Vance lunged forward and thrust his sword hard into the soft skin under the wyvern’s clipped wing. He withdrew the sword and a burst of bright blood splashed out of the wound. The wyvern trembled and fell to the ground. The creature gave a shudder and then its eyes glazed over.
Vance raised his arm into the air. The crowd roared, and Taimin cheered along with them.
“I hear that’s what you were,” Taimin said to Rathis. “A leader.” He decided that the skalen deserved to know. “I once met a skalen called Vail, a group leader in charge of a hundred warriors. Her plan was to join with Blixen and assault the city.”
Rathis made a sound of surprise. His shoulders slumped. “I feared this may happen. I hoped Vail would have the sense to stay away.” He paused as the crowd roared again. “The new arrivals among the bax say they are finding it harder to evade the city’s patrols. Even hiding in small groups, the Protector somehow finds them. Blixen will surely attack before his army falls apart, and he will bring Vail with him.”
“How do you feel about all this?” Taimin a
sked bluntly.
“What is it you are asking?”
“Zorn, the Protector, Blixen and his army . . . How do you see it working out?”
The old skalen pondered for a moment. “There is no way for it to end well, not unless every skalen, trull, mantorean, and bax within range of the city guard leaves this area to search for another home. I know, however, that this is something Blixen will never do. I once met him and took his measure. The Protector captured his wife. He still knows nothing of her fate. More bax are taking up his cause every day. A battle is coming. If the city falls, many humans will die. If it does not, Zorn will remain supreme, and,” Rathis indicated the arena, “this will continue.”
Taimin returned his attention to the fighting pit. He saw Vance walking toward the portcullis, which made a grating sound as it lifted.
“And you? What is it you want?” Rathis asked.
“I want to survive,” Taimin said. “I once had some friends. We dreamed of a new life in Zorn. One of them is dead, but the other . . . I’m going to find her, and I’m going to do something about Galen. When I grew up, I didn’t know any bax,” he met Rathis’s gaze, “or skalen. But here we are. This city needs to change.”
“A worthy ambition,” Rathis said.
Vance approached, breathless but smiling. Taimin and Rathis came forward to clap him on the back.
“It’s easy when you know how,” Vance said with a grin and a shrug.
“Stay quiet and follow me,” Vance said.
He glanced at Taimin as he walked. It was late in the evening, and Vance had been full of boundless energy after his victory. Taimin followed, perplexed, as Vance went straight to the barred gate that Taimin hadn’t passed through since he first came to the arena. Taimin waited as Vance said something to the heavyset guard on the other side. He saw Vance pass the guard a small chip of something shiny. The guard vanished.
“How did you get that in here?” Taimin asked, surprised.
Vance gave a quick shake of his head.
The guard’s bulk appeared again a few minutes later. He spoke with Vance in hushed tones, and then Taimin heard a creak and the gate opened. The guard gestured for them to go through.
Taimin’s eyes widened, but he kept his lips sealed. He followed just behind Vance, aware that he was walking corridors that might one day lead to freedom. He passed a junction and inhaled deeply to see which direction the freshest air came from. He peered along the tunnels to see where the light was brighter. But as the guard continued in front of them and he realized just how many doors and gates there were, his heart sank. If escape were easy, the guard would never have let them out.
The fat guard waddled along until he stopped outside a door, opening it wide to reveal a storeroom filled with wooden barrels of all shapes and sizes, as well as crates and boxes. He then held out a meaty hand.
“Now give me the rest,” the guard said flatly.
“The rest?” Vance scowled. “I told you, that’s all there is.”
“I said the rest. Or do you want me to call out I’ve found two prisoners in hiding?”
Vance’s eyes narrowed. “You’d get in trouble yourself.”
The fat guard shrugged. “Then let’s go back.”
Vance’s nostrils flared. He took out another metal chip and gave it to the guard, who shoved it into a pocket in his trousers.
“I’ll come and get you in a while,” the fat guard said. “The wine’s hidden in the usual spot. Don’t do anything stupid. If someone else opens the door, you don’t know me.”
The guard waited for Taimin and Vance to enter and then closed the door behind them. Taimin heard a clunk as a bolt was thrown. They were now alone in the storeroom.
“I’ve been saving my iron bits for a good time, and now seems as good as any,” Vance said, sitting down on a barrel. “I probably wouldn’t be alive without your advice. I always pay my debts.”
“You’re a resourceful man,” Taimin said. He looked around and found a seat for himself. “Ever thought of turning those talents to escape?”
Vance rummaged around in a crate to pull out a small flask that he revealed with a flourish. He took a blunt wooden tool from the same crate and levered out the stopper. “Aha! Here, take the first sip.”
Taimin sniffed the contents. Wrinkling his nose, he lifted the flask to his lips. Liquid fire touched the back of his throat and then spread throughout his chest. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he coughed at the sour taste. “Here,” he choked, passing over the flask.
“That good? They ferment it from lifegiver cactus.” Vance grinned. He took a mouthful, before giving a sigh of pleasure. “As I always say, all men are corruptible.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” Taimin said.
“Of course I’ve thought about escape. I know Rathis has, and so has everyone else.”
“What have you come up with?”
“Nothing,” Vance said with a shrug. “The whole city comes to watch us fight. They know our faces—there’s no doubt we’d stand out. And no one would hide us, they’re all too afraid of the Protector. The soldiers ride wyverns. Even if we could break out, they’d round us up in no time.”
“Why are people so afraid of him?”
“The Protector? For a start, he forces everyone to come to the fights. They don’t have a choice. Anyone who doesn’t attend gets marked for observation, and that’s not a good thing. The citizens know that if they speak out, they’ll end up where we are. It’s amazing what the frequent sight of blood can do.”
“Some of them love the fights,” Taimin said.
Vance laughed. “Ha! Yes, I know what you mean there.” He took another sip and then sobered. “But in truth, most people are simply afraid.”
“Why don’t they do something?”
“Because the Protector controls the one thing no one can do without: water.” Vance smoothed his moustache. “You’ve seen the groves of lifegiver cactuses? They take a lot of manpower to cultivate and harvest. Without the well at the bottom of the tower—which the Protector keeps guarded, of course—there wouldn’t be enough water to go around. The Protector controls the well. He pays the laborers in the fields. He’s the one who stores the water and sells it in the market.”
Taimin pondered the situation as he took another draught; the cactus wine was starting to taste better. “You said you stole something from him. What was it?”
Vance sighed. He looked at the wall, seeing something else entirely. “A woman.”
Taimin raised an eyebrow.
“One of the Protector’s ‘mistresses’,” Vance explained. “He takes the occasional city girl up to that tower—they know that if they refuse him their family will suffer. I met Cora out in the street without knowing the full story.” His voice became wistful. “She was different, Taimin. Beautiful and intelligent, with golden hair the color of Dex at noon. I charmed her, but she warned me away, and the more she told me I shouldn’t be speaking to her, the more I wanted her. I thought she was married, but I didn’t care. I could see that even if another man had claimed her, she didn’t love him. When she told me she wasn’t married, I saw no reason we couldn’t be together. It was only later, when she was in my bed, that I learned the truth. By then it was too late. I was in love.”
Taimin watched Vance take another swallow of the wine.
“It’s not a long story. We took risks to be together and the Protector found out. I ended up here.”
“What about her?”
Vance’s face became grim. “I don’t know. It’s why I haven’t given up. I have to find out what happened to her, and if she’s still alive. I realize she’s probably dead . . .”
When Vance faltered, Taimin leaned forward. “I’m sorry. This city is not the haven I thought it was.”
Vance controlled his expression and brightened, though Taimin knew him well enough now to realize it was a façade. “Perhaps I set my sights a little too high in thieving the Protector’s woman, eh?”
“Perhaps.” Taimin gave a slight smile.
“How about you?” Vance suddenly asked. “You must have someone who keeps you going.”
Taimin immediately thought about Selena. He always wondered where she was, and what she was doing. He constantly reminded himself that her talent meant she was valuable. She was still alive and well.
“There is someone,” Taimin said. He explained about meeting Selena and searching for the city with her, only to become separated. “I finally saw her with some bax,” he concluded. “But, before I could get to her, Galen found me.”
Vance handed Taimin the flask. “Here,” he said. “Your turn.”
Taimin drank more of the wine. He and Vance didn’t speak for some time, both lost in their thoughts, and they finished the bottle in silence. Soon after, the guard knocked on the door to escort them back to their quarters.
Taimin didn’t have long to wait for his own name to be called.
He wondered why he wasn’t following the usual route as he was taken along the stone-walled corridors. As the raised voices of the crowd grew louder in volume, his imagination conjured up one opponent after another. Perhaps he wouldn’t be fighting at all. Perhaps Galen had lost his patience, and Taimin was about to be shot full of arrows as the citizens looked on.
Taimin kept his face like stone, even though his heart was racing in his chest. Dread made his stomach churn. He kept reminding himself that fear was the enemy, and that, right now, fear was the only thing in his power to control.
He climbed a set of stairs, taking each step slowly while he made himself go through his usual exercises. He sucked in deep breaths of air and swung his arms. At the top of the steps he saw another barred gate, and beyond it lay the sandy floor of the fighting pit. His eyes scanned the area, searching for his next opponent. But the pit was empty. Taimin would be the first to enter.
A lanky guard handed him a sword and then pulled the gate open.
Taimin walked through.
What had been a loud murmur swelled to a powerful roar. The sound of it was deafening; it struck him like a punch in the face. He continued until he was standing in the center of the fighting pit. With no opponent in sight, he turned slowly, taking in the faces of the people of Zorn.
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