The Verdent Passage

by Troy Denning

  The gaj's tentacles became flaccid, releasing Rikus's head and wrists. Its red eyes faded to dull maroon. Then it retracted its sticklike legs, and its scaly shell sank to the ground. Unfortunately the pincers remained closed, Rikus's limp body locked in the powerful mandibles. Where the gaj's antennae had held him, red welts covered the gladiator's skin.

  Both Neeva and Yarig looked from Sadira to the motionless beast. "What happened?" asked the husky dwarf.

  "It's stunned," Sadira replied, stepping toward to* thing's mandibles. "I cast a spell on it."

  The jaws of both gladiators fell slack. "That will mean your death!" Neeva uttered. "You'd do that for Rikus?"

  "I already have," Sadira replied.

  On top of the wall, Boaz screamed, "What happened to the gaj? Lord Tithian will have your head!"

  The scullery slave ignored him and tugged at a mandible. It did not open. "We've got to get Rikus free," she said. "The gaj will recover soon."

  Neeva stepped to Sadira's side and inserted a spear between the mandibles. "Rikus never told me you were a sorceress."

  "I try not to tell all my secrets," Sadira answered.

  Neeva braced her foot against a mandible and pried with her spear. As the pincers slowly opened, Yarig laid aside his own weapon and started to pull Rikus free. The barbs, still piercing the mul's abdomen, tore at the gladiator's stomach.

  "Wait!" Sadira said, laying one of her soft hands on the dwarf's arm. "Neeva must open those pincers farther."

  "Can't," came the strained reply.

  "What are you doing to the gaj?" Boaz demanded from the wall. "Stop! Don't hurt it any worse."

  The guards shuffled toward the rope and started repeating their superior's command to leave the gaj alone, but they did not move to enforce the order. Their hesitation did not surprise Sadira. Their fighting skills could not compare to those of the gladiators, and none of them was anxious to take the initiative in using force against the slaves.

  Yarig retrieved his spear and placed it between the pincers, next to Neeva's weapon. As the dwarf lent his ample strength to the effort, the mandibles opened another two feet. The barbs came out of Rikus's stomach and blood poured from the wounds.

  Sadira grabbed the big gladiator's shoulders and pulled, but the mul was far too heavy for her.

  "Anezka, help me!"

  The halfling slowly stepped to her side and took one of Rikus's arms. The two women pulled him from the pincers.

  When the unconscious mul was free, Neeva and Yarig abandoned their weapons and allowed the pincers to close. Each grabbed one of Rikus's arms, then dragged him toward the edge of the fighting pit. Sadira and Anezka followed a step behind, both glancing over their shoulders at the stunned beast, checking for signs of movement.

  By the time they reached the wall, the gaj's tentacles were beginning to twitch. Yarig grabbed the rope and climbed up, only to find Boaz waiting for him at the top. "I should leave you down there for the gaj," the trainer hissed.

  "We'd have to kill it," Yarig replied simply, hesitating at the top of the rope. "Should I go back down?"

  Boaz regarded the obstinate dwarf for a moment, annoyed at his own uncertainty. Finally the trainer stepped aside. "No. I'll think of a more fining punishment for your disobedience later."

  As Yarig scrambled out of the pit, Neeva picked Rikus up and lifted him as high as she could. Yarig turned and lowered himself onto his belly, then reached down for the unconscious mul. The dwarf's arms were too short to bridge the gap, but Anezka took care of the problem by scrambling halfway up the rope and passing Rikus's heavy arms to her partner.

  "Got him!" Yarig said, struggling to pull the mul toward the deck, with Neeva pushing from below.

  Behind Sadira, in the center of the pit, the gaj clacked its pincers loudly, snapping the abandoned spears with a series of sharp cracks.

  Neeva gave a loud grunt, then heaved Rikus up over her head Yarig seized the opportunity to gather his feet beneath him, then pulled the bulky mul to safety. Immediately, Anezka scrambled the rest of the way up the rope. Sadira dared to look over her shoulder. The gaj had risen to its feet and was pointing its hairy tentacles in the group's direction.

  "We've got to hurry," Sadira called. "It's awake!"

  No sooner had she spoken than a pair of strong hands seized her by the waist. Before the half-elf realized what was happening, Neeva had passed her to Yarig, who effortlessly hoisted her to safety.

  When Yarig set her atop the wall, Sadira spun around. The gaj was scuttling across the sandy floor of the fighting pit and was already halfway to the wall. Neeva leaped up and grabbed the rope, but Sadira doubted that the woman would reach the top before the creature caught her.

  Since she had likely exposed herself as a sorceress earlier, Sadira decided she would do no additional harm by using her magic to save Rikus's partner. She pointed toward the gaj and began to recite an incantation, preparing to shoot a bolt of magical energy into the beast's head.

  Just before she could cast the spell, Boaz shouted, "Stop her!"

  The shaft of a guard's spear came crashing down across Sadira's forearm, misdirecting her attack. A burst of golden energy flashed from her fingertips and blasted into the pit, striking well to the gaj's left. A geyser of sand sprayed thirty feet into the air.

  The gaj ignored the blast and continued its charge, loudly clacking its mandibles and angrily waving its antennae. One of Neeva's hands crested the wall, and Yarig grabbed her arm.

  As the gaj reached the edge of the pit, it lifted the front end of its shell and began scraping at the base of the stones in a futile attempt to follow. The creature's head lay only a few feet below Neeva's ankles. Her other hand crested the wall, and she started to pull herself free of the pit.

  One of the gaj's tentacles lashed out and entwined Neeva's bare calf. The woman cried out in pain and surprise. Her fingers slipped from the wall, but Yarig caught her arm and held it fast. Neeva regained her grip with the other hand. Still screaming in pain, she fought to drag herself up the wall.

  The creature's bristly antenna remained about her calf. Neeva jerked her leg upward, twisting savagely. With a loud pop, the stalk separated from the gaj's head. The beast emitted a piercing screech, then scrambled away. A few yards from the wall, it retracted its legs and head, and quickly lowered its shell to the sand.

  "Get it off!" Neeva shrieked, violently thrashing about. She tried to reach the tentacle around her leg, but the intense pain caused her arms and legs to jerk with agonizing spasms.

  Sadira reached out to help, but found herself facing the sharp point of a guard's spear. "Don't even move," the man threatened.

  Ignoring the guard's threat to the scullery slave, Yarig tried to assist Neeva, but Boaz stepped between him and the screaming woman. "I did not give you leave to help her," he said.

  The dwarf sneered and tried to sidestep the trainer. A guard lunged forward, pressing his speartip against Yarig's ribs.

  As Neeva continued to flail and scream, Boaz looked to the guards surrounding Rikus, who still lay prone on the deck. "Is the mul dead?'

  One of the guards shook his head. "He's breathing, but that's about all."

  "Then see if you can keep him alive," Boaz ordered. "We can't have our champion dying in his sleep. Lord Tithian would not find that to his liking."

  The guard nodded, then bandaged the mul's wounds. Only a few feet away, Neeva continued to cry out in pain. No one assisted her.

  Boaz looked to Sadira next. "What are we to do with you, my bewitching little wench? As I'm sure you're aware, the penalty for spellcasting is death."

  The scullery slave met the trainer's gaze steadily, though her heart was pounding with fear. "Lord Tithian certainly will want to question me before I'm killed," she said. Feigning confidence, she forced her voluptuous lips into a smile. "But I can see how that might make you uncomfortable. After all, Lord Tithian would not be happy to hear that you sent his prize gladiator to fight the gaj with only a pair of sin
ging sticks."

  "So I should just forget what I saw?" Boaz asked, meeting Sadira's smile with a cynical grin.

  "That would be in your best interest," she replied, careful to maintain an even tone.

  "I have nothing to fear from Tithian," Boaz said. "To him, the mul is just another slave."

  As the trainer studied her, Sadira looked for any sign of the doubt she hoped Boaz was feeling. Only the depth of his concentration gave her cause to think she had succeeded. Regardless of what the trainer claimed, Tithian would indeed be upset if he learned how Rikus had been injured. Boaz could be certain that the story would surface if he turned Sadira over to their master for interrogation.

  "Perhaps I should kill you now," Boaz threatened. "I could always throw you to the gaj."

  "That's your choice," Sadira answered bravely. "But Lord Tithian would be cheated of his opportunity to question me. Eventually he would learn of the magic I used today. Even if your guards keep silent, I'm sure these gladiators will tell him. Or would you kill all of them, too?"

  As the trainer considered his next response, Neeva finally ripped the gaj's antenna from her leg and flung it into the pit. Her anguished cries quieted to a moan. The sudden calm seemed to inspire Boaz.

  The half-elf gave Sadira a tight-lipped smile. "I'll consider your advice." He looked from the slave girl to the guard beside her, who was now holding the spear at her throat. "Lock her in the Break."

  Sadira cringed. The Break was an old storage house with dozens of small silos built into the ground. It was Boaz's favorite punishment. She was not sure what horrors the Break contained, but there were many, many rumors. The one thing Sadira knew for certain was that no slave survived imprisonment in the Break beyond five days.

  The guard took the young woman by the arm. As he led her away, the half-elf cast a final look at Rikus. Now two guards attended him. They had ripped the mul's robe into strips and wrapped it around his stomach, but blood still seeped from beneath the bandage at an alarming rate. Sadira was glad to see the bleeding, however, for it was the only sign of life in the mul's inert form.

  Boaz motioned to the guard holding Sadira. "See that she is bound and gagged."

  Sadira's heart sank with this last order. With bound hands and a gagged tongue, she could not use her magic. It would be impossible to make the gestures or utter the incantations of the spells she would need to make her escape. The guard nodded, then leveled his spear at Sadira's back. "You know where we're going."

  Sadira led the way across the deck to a short flight of steps. Directly ahead were a dozen squat buildings. Their walls were constructed from dun-colored bricks made of mud, and animal hides covered their roofs. Between the buildings shuffled a handful of gaunt slaves. They carried buckets of water and food to the cells that housed Tithian's gladiators and, more importantly, to the pens which held the exotic animals his hunters had captured for the ziggurat games.

  Beyond the buildings rose the compound wall, a mud-brick barricade twenty feet high, capped by jagged shards of obsidian. At each corner, a high, flat-roofed tower rose above the wall. The towers' roofs were covered with scaly hides.

  A pair of guards stood in each of the four towers. They wore no armor, for anyone dressed so heavily would soon faint in the searing heat of an Athasian day, but each guard was armed with a crossbow, a small supply of steel-tipped bolts, and a steel dagger.

  The steel weapons, Sadira knew, were more for intimidation than for actual use. On Athas, metal was more precious than water and as scarce as rain. Tyr was unique among Athasian city-states in that it controlled a working iron mine. For their metal, other cities had to rely on hard-bitten bands of salvagers. These hardy groups of fortune-hunters searched out lost armories and treasure vaults in the ancient ruins which were buried everywhere beneath the sands of the desert.

  The fact that Tithian entrusted his tower guards with metal weapons was a sign of the high templar's incredible wealth. Even in Tyr, where iron was relatively abundant a steel crossbow bolt cost more than a healthy farm slave' and the daggers were worth as much as a good gladiator.

  Sadira's guard prodded her in the back with his obsidian spearpoint. "Quit stalling."

  Resisting the urge to try a spell immediately, the half-elf descended the stairs leading from the arena deck. At the moment, Boaz and the other guards would be quick to react to the slightest hint of trouble, and Sadira knew better than to think she could fight a half-dozen ready guards. She would have to bide her time, then count on stealth to make good her escape.

  Sadira walked to the Break, a small building at the far corner of the compound. Here, a guard gagged her with a grimy cloth and bound her hands behind her back with a rope that bit into her skin. She was handed over to a pair of guards in charge of the Break, who pushed her inside. As she descended a flight of stone steps, the dank stench of offal and unbathed humanity washed over her. She almost retched, then nearly choked on the gag that filled her mouth.

  Laughing at her plight, the guards took her by the arms and dragged her forward. The rays of the crimson sun permeated the hide roof, lighting the interior with a ruddy glow that made the place seem even more corrupt and sickening.

  The stone floor of the hut was covered with heavy rock slabs. The guards led Sadira to the far side of the room, then pushed one of the stone covers aside. A hushed hissing, not unlike the whispering of a soft wind, rose from the silo below. The cell was as black as obsidian, but Sadira could see the scene below as clearly as if it had been by a torch. From her elven ancestors, she had inherited infravision, the ability to see ambient heat when no other light source was present.

  By the cool blue of the silo's brick walls, Sadira knew that it was a circular hole about two-and-half feet in diameter and ten feet deep. There was just enough room to stand, but not to sit or lie down.

  The cell was filled top to bottom with the green gossamer of a silky web. Throughout this web scurried dozens, perhaps hundreds, of pinkish reptiles that created a soft whisper by rubbing their pliant scales against the silk, the walls, and each other. They were about the length of Sadira's fingers, with soft tubular bodies, arrow-shaped heads, small squarish ears, and compound eyes resembling those of an insect. She was not sure whether to think of them as lizards or snakes, for they had tiny legs and feet in front, but none on their hindquarters.

  One of the guards grabbed Sadira beneath the armpits and dangled her over the pit. The half-elf groaned in alarm and braced her feet against the edges of the pit. She knew that struggling was futile, but the thought of being lowered into the squirming mass below was repulsive.

  Her captor's companion kicked the slave's feet away from the edges of the pit, and the one holding her released his grip. Sadira plummeted through the web, bringing a shower of slimy flesh and sticky strands down about her as she fell. When she hit the bottom, her knees buckled and her shoulder slammed into the brick wall. Sharp bolts of pain shot through her ankles and knees, and her left arm went numb. She found herself wedged into the cramped silo with her buttocks resting on her heels.

  Scaly ropes of flesh began to squirm over her bare legs, her shoulders, even down the back of her neck. Sadira let out a muffled scream of disgust and pushed herself into a standing position. The effort sent renewed streams of pain through her ankles and knees.

  At the top of the silo, the two guards chuckled and slid the stone slab back into place.

  Sadira stood in the cell, alone save for the repulsive creatures that rubbed their hissing scales against her skin and flicked her with their gritty tongues. She could not decide whether they were welcoming her to the colony or taste-testing the web's latest catch. The sorceress consoled herself with the thought that the greatest danger posed by the reptiles was that they would drive her mad. She doubted that Boaz would tolerate the things if they foreshortened the torment of his victims by killing them.

  The half-elf wasted little time panicking or bemoaning her fate, for she knew those were the reactions Boaz desired
. Having been born into slavery, Sadira had long ago realized that, while her masters could use threats and violence to keep her in physical bondage, they could not control her mind or her emotions unless she let them. As long as she remained strong and refused to accept their right to enslave her, then she was at least spiritually free. Of course, spiritual freedom was a poor substitute for the real kind, but at least it kept hope alive.

  The sorceress had seen too many people give up this last scrap of dignity. Sadira's own mother, an amber-haired human named Barakah, had died apologizing to her daughter for the "crimes" she had committed, crimes that had resulted in Sadira being born a slave. The half-elf did not consider her mother's actions to be crimes, however.

  From what the half-elf had pieced together, as a young woman her mother had supported herself in one of the few outlawed occupations in Tyr. King Kalak had declared it illegal to sell or buy magical components. Naturally a thriving trade in chameleon skin, gum arabic, mica dust, adder's stomach, and other hard-to-acquire items had sprung up in the notorious Elven Market. Barakah had made a living as a runner between the Veiled Alliance and the untrustworthy elven smugglers. She had also made the mistake of falling in love with an infamous elven rogue named Faenaeyon.

  Shortly after Sadira had been conceived, the templars had raided the dingy shop where Faenaeyon lived and did business. He had escaped and fled into the desert, but the pregnant Barakah had been caught and sold into slavery. Faenaeyon had simply abandoned his lover and her unborn child, making no effort to buy their freedom or help them escape. A few months later, Sadira had been born in Tithian's gladiatorial pits, and that was where she had been raised.