The Dragon and Rose

by Gerhard Gehrke

  The guards escorting Digger removed the manacles.

  Corporal Dario lingered. “Good luck, fel. Stay on your toes.”

  “I plan to. But tell me—why is the queen so interested in this show? It doesn’t look like much.”

  “It’s not just these fel you have to worry about. This is just the preliminaries. But once you make it out back, keep your eyes peeled. There’s more coming that no one here expects.”

  “What do you mean by that? What’s going to happen?”

  But the corporal hurried past the curtain and down the stairs.

  Red Eye brushed past the rest of the soldiers and tipped back his hat as he inspected the waiting players.

  “What a smart-looking bunch we have. Hope you boys and girls are ready for a fight. Keep in mind we pay for performance. You throw down your weapon, try to run, you’ll get hurt and lose your reward. But I’ve told all of you this already. So maybe this is just for our champion here. Give the audience a show and maybe the queen will share her cut with you. Because she bet big. But for the rest of you, you take out this big lug”—he pointed at Digger— “and I’ll pay you a shiny gold piece.”

  “Where’s the weapons and armor?” Digger asked.

  Red Eye grinned. “All in good time. We’ll see the crowd gets warmed up first. I’d hate to see any of you hurt yourselves while the curtain’s still down.”

  He exited stage right and shouted at someone. A five-piece band had set up in front of the stage and they began to play. The two clarinets, trombone, trumpet, and drum struck up a merry tune that got the growing crowd outside clapping and stomping.

  Digger went to the back door but found it locked.

  “Running already?” a contestant with a thick steel earring asked.

  Digger examined the stage rigging in search of anything that might prove useful. “How do you think this is going to go down? You expecting a fair fight?”

  “I expect you’ll beat any one of us. But not all of us.”

  “The queen’s involved. I learned in the catacombs to be ready for anything. We’ll do better if we work together.”

  “Not if they tell us to kill each other. It’s what they did Wednesday night. And a gold piece will do plenty to help me and my kids have a better future.”

  The others were listening. More than one nodded.

  Digger looked them up and down. “Any of you been in a real fight? Any of you trained? Held a real sword and know what it’s like to bring it down on someone’s arm and hear the bones crack? I didn’t think so. This is going to start in a few minutes. Maybe you’ll all gang up on me. You might win. But one of you will have to be first, and I can guarantee I’ll take that one’s life away from him like candy from a child.”

  Steel Earring grunted. “You...you don’t scare us.”

  But Digger was done talking. When he got too close to where Red Eye had left the stage, a thug warned, “Not another step. You stay out there.”

  Digger could only guess the men guarding the stage were armed.

  The clamor of the crowd only grew until someone wearing heels walked onstage on the opposite side of the curtains.

  “Hello, my dear city!”

  The actor was doing a half-decent imitation of the queen. Applause. The speaker waited until it died down.

  “As you may have heard, we’ve got some entertainment for you. The theater hasn’t seen a rowdy bunch of hooligans like you in a long time. Why, I see gutter rogues elbow-to-elbow with the socially hungry of Bahia, both of whom would slit their mothers’ throats if it meant they could get ahead in the world!”

  The crowd laughed. Digger studied the other contestants. They were shifting in place, wiping palms on slacks, and eyeing him back.

  “I see ladies who’d sell their children to ogres for the coin and boys who haven’t told their daddies they prefer to share their pillows with someone with a little more grizzle on their chins. And this is just the front row. But you’re not here to listen to your queen yammer on. Who’s here for a bit of fight-fight?”

  The theater patrons’ roar was stunning. This crowd wanted its violence bad.

  But there still weren’t any weapons and he had no idea what was expected of him and the other fighters. He took a step away from them, straining his ears for anything in the walls and stage floor.

  “We have a special contestant with us tonight. He’s the fel champion of the catacombs, the slayer of noblemen, the rescuer of nymphs, and the tamer of trolls. But he’s up against some fearsome competitors as his own kind seek to unseat him for riches and glory. Would you like to meet them? Let’s have a look at your monsters!”

  The curtain parted. The fake queen was backing off to one side of the stage with arms held wide. A bright light blazed down on them from the back of the theater. The crowd was a dark mass of jeering faces.

  Something was lowered towards them from above. It was a rack with sparkling weapons dangling from strings like ornaments. Swords, clubs, and maces bedecked with shining stones and glittering with sparkles hung from the rack. Even as it descended, Digger noticed the clack of wood on wood.

  Fake weapons.

  “Pull your punches, boys,” Digger murmured. “No one really needs to get hurt here.”

  Steel Earring hopped up and snagged a dangling wooden sword and pulled it free. “Is that what you told the purebloods you killed once they were down?”

  “Preliminary round,” the mock queen announced. “Best four move on to the main round. And a special prize to anyone who defeats the champion!”

  Digger reached for a club. But one of the other contestants body-checked him and knocked him away. The rack stopped lowering. The other fel had all armed themselves. Steel Earring swung his sword at Digger, keeping him away. The rest of them spread out but no one appeared to want to be first to attack.

  “Come on,” Steel Earring said. “We get him, we split a gold piece.”

  Two of the others closed in. Digger backed up to a secondary curtain. The stage was clear of anything that might make for an impromptu weapon.

  He bunched up the curtain. “Only four of us move on. I assume you can do the math. Pick which three of you want to leave this stage with me.”

  A club wielder came for him. Digger threw the curtain, the heavy fabric bouncing off the attacking fel and distracting him long enough for him to grapple with him and snatch the club away. He drove one end of the weapon into his belly. The fel doubled over, coughing. The others held back as Digger hauled his opponent up and shoved him off the stage.

  The crowd cheered as the contestant crashed down onto the drum set and sent the musicians scattering.

  Digger eyed the others. “That’s one who’ll live. Seven of us left.”

  Steel Earring motioned the contestants forward. “Same time. He can’t stop all of us.”

  The audience applauded and laughed as the six fel circled Digger. The club in his hand was top-heavy and a wild swing would put him off-balance. But with no room to maneuver, even this group of untrained fighters would find an opening.

  He charged and screamed, launching himself at the rightmost contestant and catching him off guard. His club smacked a fake sword aside as they collided and crashed to the stage. Digger caught the fel’s hair and smacked his head against the floor. He slammed it down a second time and felt his adversary go limp.

  Steel Earring was the first to move, swinging down with a wooden sword and catching Digger on the shoulder. Before he could strike again, Digger scurried off the unconscious fel and got to his feet.

  The others were coming for him.

  Digger kept his stance low, a raised hand out before him.

  An overeager attacker lunged.

  Digger deflected the blow with his forearm, stepped in close, and drove the handle of his club into his nose.

  Cartilage popped and blood spattered. The fel howled and lurched back. Another one out of the fight.

  The next attacker proved more cautious, parrying Digger’s swi
ng and almost catching him with a counterblow with a giant wood mace. Steel Earring bent down to retrieve a second sword. Digger had attackers on both sides. Steel Earring flung one of his weapons, forcing Digger to raise his club to knock it aside.

  The mace wielder used the opening to strike Digger’s club hand, smashing fingers and almost making him lose his grip.

  The din of the audience reached a new crescendo. The mock queen was shouting encouragements or taunts. But for Digger, the noise fell away, becoming a distant buzz as his own breathing and hammering heart filled his head. The world was only him and his opponents. The pain lancing through his fingers became a remote throb.

  He transferred the club to his left hand. Glared at Steel Earring. “You’re going down before I do.”

  Steel Earring hesitated. Shifted his weight backwards. His sword remained at the ready.

  Digger then launched into a fresh assault on the mace wielder.

  The fel was surprised, almost dropping his weapon in his attempts to parry as Digger delivered blow after blow, finally getting close enough to drive a vicious thrust of his knee up into his opponent’s tender parts and following with a dropped elbow to the back of his head. The fel gasped as Digger shoved him over the edge of the stage.

  The remaining contestants stood staring. Only Steel Earring looked ready to continue.

  Digger pointed to the contestant with the bloody nose. “Drop your weapon. You either climb off this stage or get thrown off.”

  The fel ran for the steps. He stumbled past a guard, to the rising derision of those watching.

  The mock queen climbed onstage and clapped her hands.

  “End of round! End of round! We have our four finalists! What a match! Let’s give them all a round of applause as we prepare for the main event! There’ll be a brief intermission. Refreshments are available in the lobby.”

  Digger didn’t relax his grip on his club until the guards came from all sides to separate the combatants. He began breathing hard, as if the exertion from the fight was just catching up with him. Sweat ran down his face. But the others also looked exhausted.

  The mock queen sashayed over and gave them a smirk. “A bit tame, boys. You may not want to pussyfoot around so much in round two. You have fifteen minutes to freshen up. And then the fun really begins.”

  A young woman wearing a skimpy pearlescent dress walked across the stage towards them. She held four tankards of frothing beer. Each contestant took one.

  Digger sniffed it but detected nothing but bitter grains and alcohol.

  “Chug! Chug! Chug!” a small chorus in the audience chanted.

  Digger sipped it and realized it was stronger than most brews, probably fortified with spirits. He set it aside. “Be careful. You don’t want to get loaded or cramped up.”

  Steel Earring hesitated even as the other two drank down their beers.

  “What do you think’s coming next?” Steel Earring asked.

  “We’ll find out in a few minutes, won’t we?”

  The server wasn’t finished with them. She next went to each contestant and put a mask with sequins and feathers over their eyes. More of the theater staff began doing the same to those in the audience seated at the front.

  These wore swords on their hips. Real swords. While a few of them were drinking, most weren’t.

  “Whatever happens, stick together,” Digger said. “Because the next round means the purebloods are coming for us.”

  Digger scanned the rest of the theater. One section was vacant. Wasn’t Lady Claudia supposed to be there? He felt a growing unease that couldn’t be ignored. Why go through all the trouble of inserting him into this game if she wasn’t going to watch?

  Red Eye took the stage. He held the shovel aloft. “Are we ready for more action? Place your last bets. One of the fans outside saw it fitting to hand over our champion’s weapon of choice. ‘Why, that’s just a shovel,’ you might say. Aye, it is. But this champion is no dandy nobleman trained to prance about with a foil, is he? He’s brutal. He’s a grunt laborer like so many of us. And this is the tool of a gravedigger. I say let’s let him carry this into the next round of the competition!”

  With a wink, Red Eye handed Digger the shovel.

  Digger took it and felt numb. How had Red Eye known? Had Marcus contacted the gangster, or had Red Eye made his own inquiries?

  What he did know was that any miniscule chance he’d thought he might have of getting away to resume his inconspicuous life in the city had vanished.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  HELLARD SUCKED THE last of the gristle from the chicken bone.

  The Karanog gangster who was his jailer had come through and provided a decent meal consisting of a whole boiled sweet potato, a green apple, two pieces of roasted chicken, and a fancy frosted white cookie, which Hellard had saved for last.

  The gangster lingered at the door. The halfblood had a habit of sucking air through the gap in his front teeth. The sounds of the theater crowd reverberated through the cell wall. They were cheering something and it kept getting louder.

  “What can I expect tonight?”

  The gangster looked outside over his shoulder. “More of the same. A few more fel will be in the ring with you. Figure if you do like you did on Wednesday you’ll make me a rich man.”

  “A rich fel you mean. How far do you think any of us will make it in this city catering to purebloods like you do?”

  “Weeping over your lot in life? Don’t know what to tell you. You came here to fight for coin. Don’t be taking the high road now. Do well. Maybe you’ll survive the night and maybe you’ll have the option of walking out of here with a full purse.”

  “What are the chances of that?”

  “We take care of our kind as long as there’s a profit.”

  “You fed me, so thanks for that.”

  Hellard rose and tried to stretch. The tight cage and hard floor were starting to lose their allure.

  Vinca hadn’t returned.

  He could only hope she was staying away until it was time. He had three of the troll chew sticks tucked in his belt behind him. With any luck they would be potent enough for the trolls to find him. If their timing was good, he might survive. If not, the theater’s games would be the end of him on account of two dense trolls and his decision to trust them.

  “Red Eye wanted you in costume,” the gangster said. “Had a loincloth for you. Figured that’s what you people wear out there in the desert. But I said letting you clothe yourself would suit the crowd just fine. Your muscles, your big belly—part of your charm without the need to dress you up fancy. So make it a good show, why don’t you, and I’ll make sure you get a fair shake at the end of the night.”

  Hellard was left alone to ponder what that might mean. More than likely, he’d be murdered by a fresh gang of contestants on Saturday. After all, why would the theater let go its star attraction?

  He tried to make out the words of the mock queen as she addressed the crowd. From the sound of it, the audience was getting quite enthusiastic over the night’s prospects.

  All this fuss over an ogre.

  Three guards came to the cage door. They held spears in their hands.

  The gangster waited outside. “Not going to be trouble for us, will you?”

  “Hate to be stabbed before my time,” Hellard said. He exited the cage, grateful for the chance to straighten up and stretch. The guards backed away. “Relax, boys, and easy with those poky things. I’m moving.”

  He was brought out into the murder garden where the previous fighting had reached its climax. It had been cleaned and cleared but appeared the same. Small candles illuminated the paths between rows of potted trees and ferns. The scarecrows which had populated the game area had been repositioned and touched up, now wearing bright paint on their canvas faces that gave them menacing eyes and leering grins.

  “This way,” the gangster said and led Hellard to the center of the flagstone circle. A statue must have once occupied the
space, but all that remained was its base.

  A guard locked a fetter to an ankle. A long chain ran to a ring set into one of the stones.

  Hellard grunted. “Cute. Hardly sporting.”

  “Can’t have you running off.” The gangster went to a potted palm tree and produced a long bat. “This should even the odds.”

  He tossed the weapon over. The guards had all backed away.

  Hellard patted the bat in his palm a few times, tugged the chain, and realized he was there to stay.

  “Keeping your shirt on?” the gangster asked.

  “I’d hate to catch a chill.”

  “Or afraid to let me see your colors. Not some simpleton desert ogre, are you?”

  He knew. The gangster’s gummy sneer told him enough.

  Hellard rolled up his sleeve to show his own skull-and-stars tattoo. “You take a peek while I was asleep? How romantic.”

  “Girl who sewed you up caught a glimpse. Told me. No one else knows. Red Eye probably wouldn’t care. But there’s a few true believers who think like you about purebloods in our ranks. You might even have some sympathy from them.”

  Using the bat, Hellard tapped the chain. “Enough sympathy to unlock this?”

  “Not that much. We all play our parts, ogre. Sometimes we get to be monsters.”

  “To them that’s all we are or ever will be. Our gang used to understand that.”

  “We do things differently in Diregloom. Maybe when this is done I’ll tell you how.”

  Hellard was left to ponder what that might mean. There were sounds of preparation beyond the screen of plants. And the crowd in the theater was getting worked up for whatever came next. But then he heard another noise, one he hadn’t heard since he was last in the desert.

  A howling.

  The sound rose in the night and was joined by more, a chorus that had always put him on alert. How it was here in this place was a puzzle he feared he would never live to solve.

  Chapter Forty

  “ALL RIGHT,” THE MOCK queen said. “I heard you lot prefer a story, unlike the Wednesday night crowd. Once upon a time there were four evil fel who wandered into the woods. In this case, the woods grew behind a venerable showhouse whose halcyon days were behind her, but with a thrilling new show which would once again fill her seats with patrons of the arts. Beer was served. Cash prizes were bestowed. The crowds took delight in hunting down the fel inside the magic forest. It was the show of the year. And the queen was delighted, even as she shed a tear for those who wouldn’t be back for the Saturday night show.”