The hallway ends, and the guard and Talis stop in the rounded room with high ceilings and high-up windows. Talis turns to the guard who’s finally let go of her arm, and she straightens herself up to her full height.
And Lellie’s right.
“We’re ready,” says Talis pleasantly, her smile bright. “But you must understand—Cinda isn’t a fighter. There’s been some sort of mistake,” she murmurs, as she indicates me. “She can’t fight.”
The guard’s brows furrow. “You are the four champions that General Uru gathered for the Wild Night fight, yes?”
“We’re only three, sadly,” says Lellie, her voice smooth as she steps forward. “Our fourth…died. Tragically. From bandits.”
“Then who is this?” asks the guard, waving to me. She’s starting to get agitated. “You’re the ones the general asked me to get, the ones who will fight the—”
“Yes, yes we are,” Tahlia promises, spreading her hands. Her smile is warm and just as bright as her sister’s. “But this is my…handmaiden. Our fourth fell to bandits. It’s tragic, really. But you can’t expect my handmaiden to fight, or—”
The guard glances up at the high windows above her, her eyes narrowing at the loud sound of hands clapping, feet beating against the ground. The crowd is agitated, that much is obvious. She shakes her head. “There must be four. There have to be four. She’ll have to go out with you.”
“No,” Talis begins, her face tight, but I step forward, too.
“Of course I can!” I tell the guard. “I’m ready!”
Talis glances at me, her mouth open, but the guard nods immediately, obviously relieved. “Good. Right. Here are your weapons, you may choose.” She gestures to a wooden table in front of us, layered with every pointy thing imaginable.
I stare at the hundreds of weapons, and I can feel my stomach tighten. Lellie shakes her head, refusing the weapons—she has her sword strapped to her back—and Tahlia, too, has her sword, but Talis looks through the assembled things and picks up a blade from the end of the table, a plain-looking silver thing with no ornamentation at all, but when she hefts it up in her hand, she appears to like the balance of it.
It’s all happening too quickly. I gulp as I look at all of the tables and my choices, and I say the very first thing that comes to my mind:
“Do you have a rolling pin?” I ask the guard mildly.
The guard’s eyes narrow, and, as she breathes out, actual smoke curls out of her nose and ascends past her head.
“You’re joking,” she tells me flatly.
“No, not a joke…I was, uh…trained in the. Um. Ancient art of…rolling pin…combat.” It does not sound remotely convincing, but the guard has had enough of us. She shakes her head, throws up her hands, and strides past us.
There are two doors in the chamber, and she prowls to the one we didn’t enter through. “Can someone get me a rolling pin?” she barks out of it. “Just go to the kitchens where they make the pies for the Circ-goers.” Someone makes a noise outside of the door. “I don’t care, just do it,” she snarls, and slams the door shut behind her.
“And…what are we going up against? If you’ll remind us again?” asks Lellie.
The guard stares at her in disgust. “You honestly don’t remember? The most important thing is the one you don’t remember? I thought you were using the extra time in the general’s chambers to try and figure out a pattern to defeat the undefeatable.”
The…undefeatable.
That…sounds pretty terrible.
Talis shakes her head quickly, behind the guard, and Lellie shrugs a little, jutting her hip against the counter and leaning against it.
I wonder what the knights and Tahlia are thinking? What if we just told the guard? Would it be easier/less painful/less dying-related if we just told her the truth? That we were in the general’s quarters, and we were trying to steal back a ring that the general stole? Maybe we could appeal to her humanity. After all, the general took what wasn’t hers, surely she could understand that feeling…but as I move around the table to stand beside Talis, she reaches across the space between us and takes my hands in her own.
“Listen to me,” she whispers, searching my eyes. The guard is turned away, her arms crossed in front of her, as she waits for whoever she sent to get the rolling pin. She’s not paying attention to us, and Talis uses that to her full advantage. Her voice is low, anguished: “there is no reason that you should fight with us.”
“But I want to,” I tell her quietly. “I don’t want you to have to go up against…whatever we’re going up against alone. I know you’re a knight, Talis, and I know that you’re brave. But I don’t want you to do it alone. I want to be with you. I want to help. I’m not some china doll who should be kept on a shelf. I’m brave, too,” I insist, even though my voice shakes. Because it’s true. I am brave. I’ve been brave my whole life, in the face of sadness and tragedy, I still kept going. That takes bravery.
I’ve been brave.
And now I need to try and be braver.
And I hope I can rise to the occasion.
The pain in Talis’s face deepens as she grips my hands tightly, as she ducks her head. She takes a deep, quavering breath, and when she looks back into my eyes, there’s such anguish in her own gaze that I’m taken aback by it.
“Talis?” I whisper, “are you all right? What’s wrong?”
“I have to tell you the truth, right now…before anything else happens. Because I’ve been lying to you. And I’m so sorry, Cinda. I’m so sorry that I lied. It was so wrong, and I can never make it right. I…I met you under false pretenses,” she growls, all in a rush, pain edging every word. “You need to know: I am not a knight. I’m…not a knight.”
I stare into her face, and I try to make sense of what she just said. But I can’t, and I tell her as much. “I don’t—” I begin, but Talis is talking again, all in a rush, as if she’s worried she’s going to be cut off, and she has to get everything out between us in only a matter of heartbeats.
“I stole this armor, just for the evening. I wanted to go out on the town and forget my troubles. I’m…I’m a stablehand. And I’ve been working in the palace stables at Arktos, trying to work up to being a squire. But I was told, earlier today, that they weren’t going to let me become squire anytime soon, because some of the knights had a trouble with my…with my family lineage. They didn’t trust me. I never should have stolen the armor, I never should have taken Rane out on the town, even though she wanted to go…it was wrong, it was all wrong—but the worst part, perhaps, is that even though it was all wrong, and even though I was wrong for doing it—I met you because of it all. So I can’t be fully sorry. I can’t be. Because I’m so very glad I met you, Cinda,” she whispers to me, her eyes blazing. “I’m so glad.”
I take a deep breath as I try to process everything she’s said, but I don’t get a chance, of course. Another guard, wearing the exact same uniform as the one in the room with us, enters through the door, holding onto a large, wooden rolling pin gingerly with two fingers. There’s flour and a bit of dough coating it—she looks like she snatched it right out of a cook’s hand a moment ago…which she probably did.
“Your…rolling pin,” she manages.
“Thank you.” My words are brisk as I take the rolling pin out of her hands, and then the guard is waving her arms at both of us.
“Move, move, we’re already late—the crowd’s going to revolt on us.” She sighs and ushers us through the door the other guard came through. “Right down here. Step lively.”
The corridor is very low—my head brushes against the top of the ceiling, and the knights and Tahlia must duck their heads…
Well. I suppose only Lellie is a knight.
Talis…isn’t a knight?
I think about it for a long moment, because I have a long moment. The corridor is very lengthy, and it gives me that blessed moment to put everything together. Talis said that she stole armor and Rane. But she only stole them for the evening? For a
night on the town, for drinks? She wants to be a knight more than anything, but the knights had prejudice against her family…I gather?
That’s…wrong. They shouldn’t have prejudice against anyone. I know Talis, and I know that I’ve only known her for a night, but that doesn’t make my knowing any less valid. Because we’ve moved together, in this night, and we’ve been on adventures together, this night, and we’ve experienced so much in these hours.
And I know she didn’t mean to mislead me.
And I know she has the heart of a knight, even though she may not be one by book definition.
And I know I love her.
And I stride forward, trying to catch up with her longer legs, because I want to tell her all of this, need to tell her all of this, but the guard is between her and me, in this narrow corridor, and I can’t quite catch up…
And then it’s too late.
For we’ve reached the gate to the Circ.
When the Circ was explained to me earlier, I remember, vaguely, a lesson or two on it in my youth. I remember it being taught to me that once, long ago, there were amphitheaters scattered across Arktos, and—for sport and entertainment—women were pitted against other women, creatures, animals, and they fought to the death. These places were, of course, outlawed long ago because they were inhumane, to the humans and the creatures and animals…but I had assumed, of course, that this meant they were no longer in use all across Agrotera.
But, I’m beginning to realize, that we’re not in Arktos anymore. And there may be similarities between our countries, but there are always, always going to be differences. They can be bad or good…
And this one. Well, it’s just bad.
And now we’re caught up in it.
And we’re going to have to fight for our lives.
This isn’t how I wanted the night to go. But would I change anything, knowing that meeting Talis would bring me here tonight?
No, because I met her. I met her. No matter what comes now.
I take a deep breath as the guard lines us up in front of the large, metal gate.
“Good luck,” the guard mutters, but she rolls her eyes, and it’s very much implied that all the good luck in the world won’t help us.
It’s…not the most reassuring of thoughts.
Talis reaches between us, and she takes my hand in hers. She squeezes, tightly, and she won’t look at me, but she lifts her chin as the gate begins to rise.
It is, apparently, an old-fashioned portcullis that separates us from the arena. Everything about this endeavor, this Circ, is old-fashioned, so I don’t know why I’m surprised by the gate, but it is a little surprising, a little whimsical, and a little quaint. In any other circumstance, I would think the portcullis was actually adorable.
But I’m not in any other circumstance.
And as the portcullis rises, as the gate clears our sightline, I take a deep breath, staring out…
The reason that the wall was so tall on the outside of the Circ was that this is a stadium, with lots and lots of seats. And the seats are all full. The magelamps overhead are gargantuan, and illuminate the arena perfect. The whole place is as bright as day, and I’m able to see the many, many faces of the people in the seats, waiting in anticipation for us to enter the arena.
I’m also able to make out that there was just another fight in the arena. And that there are people out there on the arena floor right now with big, wooden buckets of water, trying to throw water on the patches of blood on the sawdust.
This is also not a reassuring thing.
I try to focus on the fact that I can smell pies. Delicious-smelling pies, hand pies like the ones that they sell in Arktos when we’re having festivals. There’s a stand right along the edge of the lower arena—where we’ll have to fight—and there’s a line alongside that little stand of people waiting to purchase pies. I can see the stacks and stacks of hand pies, and the mouthwatering aroma reaches us, even here.
I wish I was eating a pie right now.
“What do you think they’ll have us fight?” asks Talis almost nonchalantly. We step forward into the arena.
“This is Bright Coast,” remarks Lellie wryly. “I’ll be surprised if we’re not fighting an actual dragon.”
“That’s gonna be fun,” mutters Tahlia. She sounds just a wee bit sarcastic.
Talis and I, hand in hand, step forward with Lellie and Tahlia. Tahlia takes the sword out of her sheath, Lellie shimmies her shoulders, trying to loosen her muscles, as Talis takes a deep breath of air.
Lellie glances sidelong at her friend. “No matter what happens, I love you, Talis. I’ve been glad of your friendship. You’re a good person. It’s good you found Cinda tonight.”
“Oh, we’re doing this? I don’t think we should do this. That implies we’re not going to make it.” Tahlia says the words lightly, but there’s a little bit of sadness to the undertone of her voice as she shakes her head. “Come on, ladies. We’ve been through a lot, all of us, yeah? We can do this.”
“We don’t even know what we’re up against.” Lellie slides her sword out of her sheath over her back and draws it down, pointing the blade at the ground before rolling her shoulders again. “Have you seen the opposite gate?” She arches a pretty brow and nods toward the gate across the arena from us.
That gate is…quite large. It’s about five times as tall as the gate we, ourselves, came out of. I look over my shoulder to make sure. At least five times as tall. Maybe taller.
“Well, for the record,” I say, gulping and gripping the rolling pin with sweaty fingers. I’m trying not to shake and very much not doing a good job of it. “I’m so glad I met you, Talis. And you, Lellie. And you, Tahlia. Even though you kidnapped me.”
“Sorry for kidnapping you,” she mumbles, but the apology seems heartfelt.
“If we’re making right with the gods, I’m glad for your friendship, Lellie. And glad for you sisterhood, Tahlia. And so glad I met you, Cinda.” Talis’s voice breaks on that last, but she stares straight ahead, gripping the sword with her other hand. “Come what may—let us be brave.”
“We’re always brave, my dear sister,” Tahlia snorts. “Let us be victorious.”
“I can get behind that,” I grin, lifting my rolling pin.
And the opposite gate across from us in the arena…it begins to rise.
Click, click, click. The gate slowly opens. And I do mean slowly. I think I’ve aged a hundred years as the chains causing the gate to rise click so unhurriedly that the suspense is going to kill me long before whatever-it-is-behind-that-gate manages to. I grip the rolling pin, my palms so sweaty that I’m in danger of dropping it. And we stand, side by side, the four of us.
And we wait.
The first thing I notice about what’s behind that gate is…well, darkness. Whereas the area we stand in is somewhat lit with magelamps, whatever is behind that gate is bathed in pure shadows. Everyone in the arena has gone silent now, which is a bit unnerving. I would think they’d be calling out for everything to move a little faster, yelling at us, booing at us…I don’t know. I’ve only ever been to one public theatrical production, and if I remember correctly, there were a lot of rotten vegetables involved and quite a lot of booing (it wasn’t a very good play).
But as the gate slowly ascends until it stops, all the way open…the crowd is silent.
Lellie looks around at the people in the stands and growls a little, hefting her sword aloft. “Why are they so quiet?” she murmurs to us, and Tahlia and Talis shake their heads, and I do, too. We don’t know.
The gate is fully open, and whatever it is…it’s quiet, in the darkness.
Talis takes a step forward, and then another. She lifts her sword aloft.
“Come out!” she shouts, her voice strong. “Come out and face us!”
It does.
If we’d told the Draco who we were, there would probably be imprisonment and death. And possibly being eaten.
But as the creature steps into t
he arena, I wonder if that might have been a better way to go.
I’ve never seen anything like it. It…well, I suppose the closest approximation would be that it sort of looks like a dragon. Or an enormous lizard. The few dragons that I’ve seen this evening are sleek-looking, and actually pretty, with their iridescent scales and fluted shape.
This thing before us…he’s not pretty.
He’s a big, stocky lizard, with thick, squat limbs and a long, thick tail. He has a long snout, and he waddles out of the darkness slowly, slithering almost like a snake as he moves forward on his thick legs. His scales and skin are jet black, and he’s enormous, towering over us, but he moves so slowly. And is it my imagination, or are his eyes closed?
“Tahlia, do you know what that is?” Talis calls back over her shoulder. Her sword hasn’t wavered, held over her head, and her voice is still strong—but not so sure.
“No idea,” says Tahlia, clearing her throat. “Uh…Lellie?”
“Not a clue—I’ve never seen something like that before,” says Lellie, taking a step backward as the thing slowly slithers toward us.
The crowd, still, is painfully silent.
“Hello,” Talis murmurs to the creature. “I can understand you, if you want to speak to me…” She trails off.
The creature has stopped.
He stands in the center of the arena across from us. Under the glaring lights of the magelamps, far above, he looks almost matte black, the kind of black that seems to suck in all of the light around it. He stands there, perfectly still, and I realize my heart is in my throat. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And then it does.
The creature opens his eyes.
I stare in shock.
His eyes?
They’re actual fire.
Well…that’s not quite right. They’re the embers of a fire, right as the last of the flame has died out, when the embers become living things, the soul of fire licking along its sides, red hot and ready to spark into flames at a moment’s notice. The creature has actual ember for eyes, and when he opens his eyes…
Well, everything else comes to life, too.
Just One Knight Page 23