“Neither of you know Blixen,” Rathis said. “I do. I have also learned much from the bax held prisoner. More than anything, Blixen wants to discover the fate of his wife, and for his people to live in peace in the place they call home.”
“I hope you’re right,” Elsa said. “In any case, whatever we do, we must do it quickly. If Blixen reaches the city while the Protector rules, the people will react with fear. Frightened people are easily controlled.”
“And there’s no doubt the Protector will make them defend the city,” Taimin said grimly, “with their lives.”
Rathis nodded. “The Protector must be overthrown before Blixen attacks and the opportunity for peace closes forever.”
While Elsa and Rathis spoke, Taimin’s mind was working. He had the seed of an idea, a seed that grew and blossomed. It was risky, and could see him killed, but he had to do something to get out of the arena, to help in the struggle and free Selena.
“You said you have supporters,” Taimin said to Elsa. “How many are willing to fight?”
“They’re all willing to fight,” Elsa said. “Most would give their lives rather than see their children die of thirst or fall in battle. It’s the wyverns that pose the problem.” Her brow furrowed. “One got loose recently, but I don’t see how we could free the others. Even the one that escaped still flies over the city sometimes. The rest are guarded, night and day.”
“I have a better idea,” Taimin said. “What if I can find a way to get all of Galen’s men in one place at the same time, without their wyverns? Could your supporters do what needs to be done?”
“Go on.”
Taimin made sure he had the attention of his two companions. “Here’s my plan . . .”
“You can fight,” Vance said to Lars in admiration.
Lars sat down wearily on his pallet and scowled at the younger man, whose bed was right beside his. “What made you think I couldn’t? I’m old, but I’m not that old.”
“Hey,” Vance put out his hands in a placating gesture, “that was meant to be a compliment.”
Taimin’s lips tugged up at the corners as the two men bickered. He couldn’t tell if Vance and Lars genuinely disliked each other or were connecting in their own way. “You survived, that’s the important thing,” Taimin said.
“Bah,” Lars growled. “The assessors probably thought my heart would give out. It won’t be as easy next time round.” He glared at Vance. “It’s true. I’m old.”
“I never said a word!” Vance protested.
“I probably wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for that wyvern circling overhead.” Lars grunted. “Kept distracting the sand lizard.”
Vance frowned. “I wonder how it escaped its cage.”
“Who cares?” Lars glanced at Taimin. “What’s got your attention?”
Taimin was tense, watching something past Lars’s shoulder. He saw Rathis talking with the guards on the other side of the gate.
“It’s going to be soon,” he murmured.
The following day, Rathis was called up to fight. The guards didn’t bother hiding anything from the old skalen. He would be battling a firehound. He wouldn’t even be given a javelin, the weapon favored by his race; instead he would be fighting with a sword. Rathis had never held a sword in his life.
Vance was now on his feet and hobbled while he and Taimin walked Rathis toward the gate that led to the fighting pit. The pair of prison guards on the other side put their hands on the clubs at their waists when they saw that Taimin and Vance intended to join Rathis on his walk to the portcullis.
“That’s far enough.” One of the guards allowed the skalen through the gate, but stepped forward to block Taimin and Vance.
“Do you think he will survive?” Taimin demanded. “No, you don’t, and neither do we. We’re walking him to the next gate.”
The two guards exchanged glances. They were both armed, and Taimin had no weapon, but Taimin had built a reputation as someone who could fight, and he wasn’t asking for much. There were many more guards surrounding the pit.
“All right,” the guard said. “We’ll be close behind.” He nodded at Rathis. “He enters the pit alone.”
“Understood,” Vance said.
Escorted by the pair of guards, Taimin, Vance, and Rathis climbed the path and headed toward the archway and the closed portcullis. Voices from the crowd echoed down the corridor. Another two guards waited up ahead. A horn blared, and the portcullis made a grating sound as it moved upward.
“Well?” one of the guards said to Rathis. “Get moving.” He scowled at Taimin. “You two stay here.”
Rathis didn’t move. He had his gaze fixed on the circle of sand on the other side of the sliding portcullis. The snarl of a firehound cut through the rumbles of the crowd.
Taimin also cast a glance in the direction of the fighting pit. The portcullis was nearly all the way open. A second horn blast came from outside. The firehound bayed, excited by the noise around it. The two guards near the archway came down, and Taimin saw that they were preparing to force Rathis into the arena; it wasn’t the first time a fighter had been reluctant to meet his end. One of the newly arrived guards shoved a sword into Rathis’s hand. Vance intervened, pleading that Rathis just needed some time, doing his best to get in the way while appearing to be helpful.
The time was right. Rathis put his hand behind his back and passed Taimin the sword. Vance and Rathis both stepped in to block the group of guards, giving Taimin a clear approach to the fighting pit.
Taimin burst into a run.
He lumbered toward the open portcullis. He heard shouts behind him as the guards realized what he was doing.
The crowd had been somewhat subdued, but as soon as they saw Taimin everything changed. A powerful roar rose up to fill the entire arena. People shouted and cheered, waving their arms.
“Tai-min! Tai-min!” The chant began immediately.
Taimin walked to the middle of the floor and raised his sword above his head. He turned slowly to meet as many eyes as he could. The roar came up again, overwhelming the chant.
Taking his eyes off the crowd, Taimin turned his attention to the enclosure on the arena’s far side and saw that it was open. The red-skinned firehound inside leaped and snarled, eager to charge. Looking back the way he had come, Taimin saw two of the angry guards he had evaded reach the edge of the fighting pit. One of them made a decision. Rather than approach, the guard waved an arm toward his fellows on the arena’s other side.
Taimin heard a command, and the man holding the leash released the firehound.
The firehound came forward almost too fast for the eye to follow, legs digging into the sand as it sprinted. Long and lean, with a muscular body, oversized head, and curved crimson horns, the creature lowered its head when it was close to the end of its charge. Taimin knew the damage those horns could do. He turned his body, legs apart in combat stance. He waited until the last possible instant and then he stepped to the side, letting the horns spear the empty air as he thrust deep with the sword.
The firehound collapsed and skittered along the sand until it came to a complete rest. Barely any time had passed. The firehound was dead.
It was over so quickly that the crowd was momentarily stunned. Then the shouts began anew, a chorus of cheers that must have been heard throughout the city.
Taimin raised his sword into the air. He had a plan. This was his moment. “Quiet!”
He was almost surprised when the onlookers stilled as soon as they realized he planned to address them directly. He waited until the crowd was completely silent before sucking in his breath. He wanted everyone to hear what he had to say.
Taimin called out in a voice that he knew would carry throughout the arena. “I challenge the man Galen to a duel. Let the commander of the city guard defend his honor himself. I give him his choice of weapons, and I seek a battle to the death. Let the commander face me here in the arena. Let us all see how brave he is.”
Taimin threw
his sword so that the point slammed into the sand. He then turned and left the fighting pit, leaving the weapon where it was.
36
The Protector stood and gazed out from the observation room at the top of the tower. He sipped on the fragrant tea that Ruth made and stared past the rooftops and the wall, toward the rust-colored plain and the hazy outlines of the mountains. The low light of early evening began to settle on the landscape. Darkness was on its way.
A voice came from behind him. “Soon that plain is going to be full of bax,” Galen muttered. “I hope you planned for this.”
The Protector gave his commander a piercing stare. “Of course I did.”
He frowned. Galen should know better than to question him. The Protector was an intelligent man, and knew that while he couldn’t control all events, he could anticipate them.
Selena had just returned to her bedchamber, escorted by Arren and Merin. Galen’s plan to give her a demonstration at the arena had worked out better than they could have hoped. They no longer had to worry about her willingness to serve, not when they could force Taimin—a man she clearly cared about—to fight for his life at any time. Although, this talk of a duel did complicate things . . .
Exhausted from farcasting, Selena had struggled to walk, but Arren and Merin had revealed critical information and that was the important thing.
Blixen was crossing the plain much faster than the Protector had been expecting. An army of bax and skalen would be at Zorn’s gates in a number of days.
As Galen came up to stand beside him, the Protector glanced at his commander. “We were always going to face one of two outcomes,” he said, taking another sip of tea. “Either Blixen would flee, or he would gather his warriors and attack Zorn. Remember, our goal has always been to seize the Rift Valley while maintaining the support of the people. We have kept our secret. No one knows about the well. If we had not made an enemy of Blixen, there would already be riots. A decisive outcome is what we want. True, we have not driven the bax away. But Blixen is coming to us.”
Galen’s face was cold. “And you think that’s a good thing? I have a hundred men. Blixen isn’t even trying to hide his presence. He knows we can’t attack. Small groups are no trouble, but a sky full of arrows is something my men and I can’t defend ourselves from.” The commander’s eyes narrowed. “Blixen’s army is coming to this city, and there is nothing we can do to stop it.”
The Protector turned away to set down his empty teacup. “Stop it? Why would we wish to do that? You asked if I had a plan, and I told you that I do. We have a population of thousands. Our wall is strong. The people are already afraid of Blixen. How will they react when we say his army is on its way?”
“With fear.”
“Exactly.” The Protector nodded. “With fear. As panic spreads, we can tighten our grip. No one will be asking about the well below this tower, not when we are sending every able-bodied male over the age of fourteen to the wall.” He gave Galen a slight smile. “Under your leadership, of course.”
“These people are city dwellers. Most of them can’t fight.”
“And therefore many will die,” the Protector said.
“Yes,” Galen said flatly.
“But all we need to know is: will the city survive?”
As the Protector had intended, his question forced Galen to think. “Blixen has hundreds of bax in his army,” he said. “Skalen too. But the city’s wall is strong. If we put every man and boy up there, even if it’s just with a wooden spear . . .” He nodded slowly. “Yes, we can win.”
“They will be fighting for their homes,” the Protector said, “with nowhere to fall back to. Once we have broken Blixen’s army, the Rift Valley will be ours.”
As the Protector returned his attention to the darkening plain, Galen remained pensive. He finally spoke up. “I will agree to your plan, on one condition.”
“Not this again,” the Protector muttered.
“My honor is at stake.” Galen’s nostrils flared.
“I know you wish to see your enemy dead, Galen, but we need him alive,” the Protector said. “Selena has been much more cooperative lately.”
“I must face him,” Galen insisted. “You want me to lead the city’s defense? He issued a public challenge. I have no choice but to accept. The people know he killed my brother. Let me deal with him, Protector. I’ll kill him myself and then no one will question my right to command, from the stubborn old men to the mothers of the boys we’ll be rounding up.”
The Protector realized his commander might have a point. It was important for Galen to be both feared and respected. He was silent for a moment as he pondered. “Give me another mystic, one with Selena’s power, and I will allow it.”
“You think you need Taimin to control her?” Galen shook his head. “It isn’t true. Ruth would serve the same purpose. Selena is sentimental—ask Arren and Merin. Even toward our enemies.”
The Protector smoothed his neatly combed gray hair. As always, he thought about all the difficulties that would have been avoided if he had the power to farcast himself.
One thing he knew was that Taimin was a distraction. Once the man was out of the picture, Galen would be able to focus on his duties. “Consider this a favor. I will grant your request, commander. You may have your duel. But, my friend, I need you too much for you to be killed. Make sure it is Taimin’s blood, not yours, that soaks the sand of the fighting pit.”
“Gladly,” Galen said. His eyes gleamed. “It will appear to be a fair fight, but it will be nothing of the sort.”
As she slept, Selena’s dreams were dark and ugly. She was kneeling on the ground. A pool of blood surrounded her body, but she was frozen in place and unable to move her limbs. As the red liquid grew deeper, covering her legs and still rising, she kept telling herself to move but she couldn’t. Everything began to shake and tremble. Her body rocked from side to side. A sharp, pinching sensation developed in her shoulder. Her breath quickened. All of a sudden her world shattered into a million pieces as pain struck her cheek.
She woke with a gasp. For an instant she had no idea where she was. She threw her body violently forward so that she was sitting up, and at the same time put a hand against her cheek, which still stung.
As her vision took focus, she saw Ruth crouched beside her bed. The short-haired woman had clearly just slapped her across the face.
“I’m sorry,” Ruth said quickly. Her expression was grim. “I couldn’t wake you. I don’t have long. If they catch me here, they’ll kill me.”
Selena’s thoughts were sluggish. “What’s happened?”
“Taimin has challenged Galen to a duel. Galen’s accepted.”
Now Selena was truly awake. Her mind worked furiously. “Galen will make sure he wins.”
“Of course he will.”
Selena reflected on the fact that it was her farcasting that had been keeping Taimin alive. “They’re going to make me watch,” she said. “Then they’ll find someone else to threaten.”
“Probably.” Ruth left unsaid that it might be her, but they both knew it.
“We have to do something.” Selena held Ruth’s gaze. “You wouldn’t have come to tell me if you weren’t willing to help.”
A look of panic crossed Ruth’s face. “I just thought you should know. What can I do?”
Selena remembered the last time she had watched Taimin fight. Galen would make sure he had an advantage. She needed to do something to even the odds in Taimin’s favor. Yet this time wouldn’t be like the last. Arren and Merin would both be guarding her closely.
She had an idea.
“You know herbs?” she asked.
Ruth frowned. “Of course.”
“And you make their tea.”
Ruth stood and backed away. “I don’t like where this is going. And anyway, Galen never drinks the tea.”
Selena persisted. “But I’ll be at the arena, and Arren and Merin do . . .”
37
The mood wa
s tense in the prisoners’ quarters. In just a few hours, Taimin would fight Galen to the death. Conversations began and then faltered. Eyes drifted over to where Taimin sat on his pallet while he spoke quietly with Rathis.
After Taimin had issued his challenge to the commander, all other fights had been cancelled. Whether bax or human, Taimin’s fellow prisoners knew they were still alive because of what he had done. They wanted him to win.
As Taimin and Rathis discussed their hopes and fears, Taimin no longer found it unusual to have a skalen so close beside him. In fact, he was thankful for the companionship. Hearing footsteps, he turned and saw Vance heading his way, carrying a plate piled high with bread and dried meat.
“Here, eat,” Vance said. “You need your strength.”
“How did you get so much food?” Taimin asked as he took the plate.
Vance shrugged. “Everyone pitched in.”
“Wait.” Rathis put out a warding hand, just as Taimin was about to pick up a hunk of pink razorgrass bread. He cast Vance an inquiring look. “Has someone tasted it?”
Vance snorted. “I’m no fool. I tried it myself.”
Ever since Taimin’s challenge had been accepted, his companions had insisted on tasting his food before he was allowed to eat. No one thought the coming fight would be a fair one. It just remained to be seen what Galen would do to tilt the odds in his favor.
While Taimin ate, he glanced at Lars, who was pacing the far side of the room. Occasionally the big skinner cast anxious looks Taimin’s way.
“Your friend likes to keep his own company,” Rathis said, noting Taimin’s attention.
“He prefers not to rely on other people.”
“You trust him?” Vance asked.
Taimin pondered while he chewed on a strip of dried meat. “I suppose I do.”
Lars scowled when he saw the three companions watching. He hesitated and then made a decision to come over. Taimin could guess what he was about to say.
The skinner came to a halt and stood with his legs apart. “Are you sure this woman, Elsa, will come through for us? This plan has a lot of moving parts.” Lars frowned at the gate that led to the fighting pit. On the other side, Taimin recognized Lewin, the sad-faced guard who had taken him to his meeting with Elsa in the storeroom. “I don’t even know which of the guards are hers.”
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