“Pretty,” the sheep farmer said in a dazed voice.
“Tro, man, don’t look at ʼem,” the city dweller said. “Keep ʼem in the corner of your eye and think about something else, or they’ll addle your brains.” He shook his head again at such ignorance. “Never mind. The nymphs are done. Here come the contestants for the Hammer and Munch.”
Gertie straightened with a startled grunt. “Kron’s Hammer, Mauric, ain’t that your sister on the field?”
“What? No, of course not.”
Raine swiftly turned her attention to the contestants on the green. Carr and four other men in kilts stood at the south end of the field, along with a young woman in a short tunic and sturdy boots. The woman’s honey-blond hair hung in a braid down her back, and she carried a small bow and arrows.
Mauric lunged to his feet. “Merciful gods, I’m going to wring her neck.”
Carr stood beside Tyra, gesturing angrily. She tilted her head, as though politely listening, and said something in reply. Carr threw up his hands and stomped back to his place in line.
Mauric cursed and plunged down the steps, taking them two at a time.
“It’s too late. They won’t let him on the field,” Gertie said, watching him leave. “The game’s begun. Seasoned warriors don’t survive the Hammer and Munch. What was that stupid gal thinking?”
Raine stared at Gertie in horror. “The ogres don’t—and the rock bears…they don’t actually eat the contestants?”
“Not on the field. There are children in the stands.”
“That’s…that’s brutal.”
Gertie chuckled. “I’m teasing, pet. No one’s been eaten during the Hammer and Munch since Finn’s day, when there was an…er…unfortunate incident. Now, the rowan makes sure the ogres and the rock bear are well fed before the games.” She lifted her head. “Oh, look. They’re opening the gates.”
Chapter 23
Dragon Flight
The huge gate at the north end of the stadium creaked open, and three ogres lumbered out wielding stout clubs with metal spikes. The ogres, though not as large as giants, were impressive brutes, roughly ten feet tall, and heavy with muscle. They were naked, their swollen bellies resting on their massive thighs, and hairless, with thick gray hides and heads too small for their bodies. Sharp tusks curved from their wide, sagging mouths, and knobby protrusions of spikes ran down their backs and down their short, stubby tails. A horn dangled by a piece of leather from each ogre’s neck. They brandished their cudgels and roared at the crowd.
Another gate opened, and two rock bears entered the arena. Though both creatures were enormous, one was twice the size of the other. The bigger one gave a trumpeting bellow that shook the stadium.
Raine made an inarticulate sound.
“Impressive, aren’t they?” Gertie said with a chuckle. “See the red bands on the big one’s legs? That’s a male. When a male rock bear gets riled, it shoots quills from its mouth.”
“A-are they poisonous?”
“They’re not lethal, but they sting like the devil and form blisters. I’ve known humans to swell up and stop breathing after being stung by a rock bear, so it’s a thing you want to avoid.”
“Tyra.” Raine wrung her hands. “This is madness, Gertie. You’ve got to get her out of there.”
“I’m sorry, pet, it’s too late. Once the players have taken the field, the rowan himself can’t stop the game.” Gertie swore under her breath. “Kron, Mauric’s trying to interfere, the fool. He knows the rules.”
Mauric was engaged in a shouting match with a gray-haired warrior. “Oh, dear,” Raine said. “He took a swing at that man.”
Gertie got to her feet. “Thall Grayfin, one of the judges. I’d better get down there before the young hothead gets himself arrested.”
She gave a sharp yip that carried over the noise of the crowd. People turned to gape. In the stands near the south gate, something large moved.
Tiny clumped down the field and halted in front of the section where Gertie and Raine were seated.
“Yessum?” he said, peering up into the stands at Gertie.
“Hold on, we’re coming down.” Gertie grabbed Raine by the arm and led her to the bottom of the steps. “Mauric’s sister has taken leave of her senses and entered the Hammer and Munch.”
“She has?” Tiny’s face puckered in dismay. “That wee slip o’ a thing? That be worrisome, fer sure.”
“Yes, and Mauric’s trying to pull her out of the game.”
Tiny looked shocked. “He can’t do that. It be against the rules.”
“I know. I’m going to try to talk some sense into him. Take care of Raine while I’m gone.”
“Sure thing, Gert.”
Gertie nodded and hurried off.
Tiny beamed down at Raine. “Well, Rainey, how you be liking the games? Did you see me in the opening ceremonies? The rowan hisself asked me to do the strut. Mam’ll be fit to burst.”
“Nobody cares,” a man sitting on the lower benches said. “Move it, chucklehead. You’re blocking my view.”
“Pipe down, squiggie.” With a flick of his finger, Tiny sent the man’s hat sailing into the bleachers. Bending, he lifted Raine onto his shoulder. “Some folks jes be set on nasty.”
The giant plodded back to the monster section and lowered his great weight onto a high seat between an earth-colored giant and a giggling ogre.
“You can sit beside me ifʼn you likes, Rainey,” Tiny said, patting a spot on the bench next to him.
Raine glanced around. A satyr leered at her and the chimera in the stall next to them smacked his lips. The trolls in the section to their right were having a raucous party. Empty ale tankards littered the stands, and beer vendors hurried up and down the steps, refilling cups. Fish baskets were scattered about, along with bits of uneaten sausages, chicken bones, and bread crumbs. A group of drunken trolls had captured a taffy vendor and were tossing the poor young man from row to row like a beach ball, scattering taffy wands into the crowd. Others sat, drowsy from gluttony, whiskered chins resting on their hairy chests. Trolls, Raine noticed, came in many colors. There were gray trolls and yellow trolls, blacks, browns, and even a brindle or two. None of them, however, had Gertie’s distinctive red fur. She looked for Ilgtha in the pack but did not see her.
“I’ll stay on your shoulder, if you don’t mind,” Raine said. “I feel safer here.”
“’Course I don’t mind, but don’t you be worrying. Nobody will bother you, not so long as Tiny be around. ”
“Tiny,” Raine said, looking around curiously. “Why didn’t Gertie sit in the troll section?”
“Gertie can sit wherever she likes.” Tiny’s voice darkened. “By rights, she should o’ been in the Rowan’s box, her being the mother o’ Finlara, don’t you know.”
The ogre sitting next to them giggled.
“Enjoying the games, be you, Jurg?” Tiny asked the creature.
The ogre’s response was a titter that reminded Raine of a screaming tea kettle.
“Addled,” Tiny confided to her in a low rumble. “Got drunk on curds and whey a few years back and fell off a mountain. Ain’t been the same since.”
Raine took a closer look at the ogre. “I know him. He tried to break into a cheese shop yesterday.”
“Aye, that be the way o’ it,” Tiny said. “One taste o’ green cheese, and an ogre be done fer.”
“Hello?” a deep whinnying voice said. “I thought that was you, Lady Raine. See here, my good fellow, change places with me. This young lady and I are acquainted.”
There was a shuffle in the stands as the chimera and Gowyr switched stalls.
“Delighted to see you again, my dear,” the unicorn said, sticking his head over the edge of the stall. “This is your first Trolach, is it not? Are you enjoying the games?”
Raine opened
her mouth to reply, but Gowyr cut her off, launching into a ponderous oration about the superiority of the past festivals he’d attended and the ribbons he’d won in the four-legged trials.
“I was quite the jumper in my salad days,” he said in his stuffy drawl.
The unicorn continued his homily, droning on until even Jurg stopped giggling and fell silent.
“Have done, blathergab,” Tiny said at last, losing patience. “They’ve rung the gong. The game be starting.”
Raine held her breath as the contestants scattered and the ogres lumbered down the green swinging their clubs. The male rock bear stayed at the north end of the field, and the female scuttled to the south end on her many legs. Snapping the claws on their chelipeds, the monsters stationed themselves in front of the posts like goalies, their disk-shaped heads swaying like pendulums on their skinny necks. An ogre pinned a warrior behind a log barricade. Snarling with glee, the ogre pulled the abatis apart, tossing the sharpened wood like so much straw. The warrior shouted in defiance and charged, leaping, one hand outstretched for the horn around the monster’s neck. The ogre snatched the man in midflight and batted him with his club. The warrior sailed through the air, landing in a broken heap on the grass. A stretcher crew ran out to carry the fallen contestant off the field.
“Hammer,” the crowd shouted.
“First blood,” Gowyr said. “Well done, Kronlings. Oh, I say, well done.”
“Heeheehee,” Jurg giggled.
“One down,” Tiny said, stamping his feet in approval.
“Haw,” the brown giant next to Tiny rumbled. “Haw, haw.”
In the next section, the trolls had abandoned the taffy vendor and were on their feet.
“Udom, Udom, Udom,” they shouted, rocking and swaying.
Two rows down, a swarm of fairies took to the air in a flutter of wings. Swooping and swirling in exhilaration, they formed sparkling patterns that lit up the monster section.
“Tiny,” Raine said, glancing at the crowd from Tiny’s shoulder. “Are you for Udom, or Finlara?”
“Eh?” Tiny’s face was flushed with excitement. “Udom, o’ course, but it all be in good fun.”
“Fun?” Raine said. “That man could have been killed.”
“Nah, Finlars don’t be like other squiggies. They heals fast. Look, one o’ them ogres gots him another one. Hoo, look at that shorty go.”
Raine returned her attention to the field and saw a man sprinting for his life before a rampaging ogre. As the warrior hurtled past a barrier of stakes, a second player, a brawny warrior built like an ox, heaved the barricade end over end. The abatis crashed into the ogre’s thick ankles. He stumbled over the obstruction and went down.
“Foul, foul,” Gowyr neighed. “Unsporting, I say.”
The warrior who’d tripped the ogre ran up to the stunned monster and snatched the horn from his neck. Holding the horn aloft in triumph, he made a dash for the posts at the north end of the field where the male rock bear waited. Opening his circular jaws, the rock bear coughed and ejected a stream of quills. The warrior skidded to a stop, instinctively throwing his arms up to protect his face. Snick, one of the rock bear’s claws shot out, severing the arm that held the horn. The warrior howled in pain and grabbed the spurting stump. The rock bear plucked the bloody limb off the ground and ate it, spitting the mangled horn into the spectators.
“Munch,” the crowd shouted.
Raine clapped her hands over her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“That be one for Finlara,” Tiny said. “See? The ogre what fell has to leave the game.”
The monsters booed and jeered as the ogre who’d tripped on the barricade trundled off the field, head down in shame, and the game continued. A second ogre blundered into a lava imp bed. He stood ankle-deep in the boiling magma, blinking in confusion until the pain registered. With a howl of anguish, he yanked his roasted foot from the lava bed and staggered about the field, knocking over log piles and hay stacks until he was prodded off the field by wranglers wielding spears.
“One ogre left,” Tiny said. “Look. Them other squiggies be working solo, but ʼpears to me the young roark and Tyra be working as a team.”
While the other two warriors tried various tactics to capture the horn from the remaining ogre, Tyra and Carr were crouched in conference behind a mound of dirt. The noise in the stands was deafening. Tyra gestured with her hands, and Carr nodded. Clasping her on the shoulder, he rose and ran from behind the man-made hummock. Waving his arms to draw the ogre’s attention, he made a rude gesture that elicited yowls of outrage from the monsters in the crowd. The ogre stared at him in disbelief and barreled after him with a roar. As Carr raced past the stone outcropping, Tyra rose from behind the rocks and loosed an arrow in a fluid motion. The arrow zinged through the air and buried itself in the spiny bristles on the ogre’s back. She released another arrow, and another, each shaft finding its mark.
Raine cringed. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Nah, them bristles on the ogre’s back be gristle,” Tiny said. “The big lug don’t feel a thing. He be so busy trying to wallop Carr, I doubts he notices Lady Tyra atall.”
Leaving the shelter of the rocks, Tyra stalked the ogre. The ogre, preoccupied with Carr’s maddening taunts, did not see her. Carr kept obstacles between him and the enraged monster. Hooting and jeering, he egged the ogre on. Tyra, at the creature’s rear, steadily nocked and released arrows to form a line down the ogre’s back and thick tail.
“Pitons,” Raine cried, clapping her hands. “I see what she’s doing. She means to—yes, see? The arrows are climbing pegs.”
Dropping her bow and quiver, Tyra trotted over and climbed the ogre’s back, using the arrows as handholds. She pulled herself to the top and straddled the ogre’s shoulders. Untying the horn, she held it aloft. The crowd went wild. Tyra tossed the horn to Carr, and he sprinted for the goal post at the south end of the arena. The ogre crashed after him. Tyra held on, balancing atop the lumbering creature like a bareback rider in a circus. Carr shouted at the rock bear and waved his arms. The rock bear swayed and thrashed her wiry tail; the heavy ball at the end slammed into the field, sending chunks of sod flying. Carr rolled aside and sprang to his feet. The rock bear wheeled about, tail lashing. The ogre took the full force of the bony knob upside the head. With a groan, he toppled over, pinning the rock bear’s tail beneath his weight. The rock bear bawled but could not break free.
Tyra jumped down and jogged over to Carr. He grinned and held the horn aloft. Together, they ran through the posts, breaking the ribbons and ending the game.
The stadium erupted in cheers from the Finlars and angry shouts and catcalls from the monsters.
“They did it, Tiny. They did it,” Raine said, whooping with joy and relief. “They won the game!”
“Aye, and they did it together.” Tiny blew his nose into a grimy handkerchief. “ʼCause they be friends, see? This be a first, and no lie. Teamwork, that be the thing.”
Singing and chanting, spectators poured out of the stands and onto the green. Tyra and Carr were swept up and carried around the field by the jubilant crowd.
“There’s Mauric,” Raine said, pointing from her perch on Tiny’s shoulder. “He’s trying to reach Tyra, but the mob won’t let him through. He looks angry.”
“The young miss done give him a terrible fright,” Tiny said, shaking his head. “I ʼspect the Lady Tyra be in for a rare trimmin’.” He got to his feet. “Reckon we’d best find Gertie. She’ll be fratchin’ about you.”
Jurg stopped giggling and pointed to a plume of dark smoke rising from the Citadel. “Fire,” he grunted.
Tiny squinted. “That be coming from the old mews. The barn be on fire.”
“Oh, no.” Raine clutched the edge of the giant’s vest. “Flame is in there.”
A shadow swept over the stadium, briefly
turning day into twilight.
Bad men, Morven. Flame’s voice was panicky. Bad men tried to steal Flame.
Raine looked up and saw the dragon circling the stadium. Here I am, Flame. Down here with Tiny. Are you hurt?
But Flame did not answer. Raine could sense his rage and alarm. Screeching in agitation, Flame made another pass over the stadium.
Morven? Morven?
His enormous wings raised a wind that blew down booths, flattened the Rowan’s box, and knocked people off their feet. Hats and cloaks flew into the air, and empty fish baskets and cups whirled in miniature cyclones, smacking people in the head and leaving cuts and bruises in their wake. Hundreds of fairies scattered to the wind, blown like paper bags about the stadium. The crowd screamed in terror and rushed for the exits, trampling one another in their haste to escape. Monsters kicked down stalls and overturned benches as they fled.
With a furious screech, Flame flew away to the north.
“Flame,” Raine cried. “Where is he going?”
Tiny put a hand to his eyes and squinted at the dragon’s dwindling form. “ʼPears to be headed into Udom.”
“Udom? Oh, no. He’ll be in danger.”
“From what, Rainey?” Tiny said. “No critter alive be dim enough to mess wiv a dragon.”
Smoke curled from the north end of the arena and flames licked up the wooden stands.
Gertie materialized at Tiny’s feet. “Raine, your infernal dragon has set fire to the stadium. Blew the coals from one of the cook fires under the stands.”
“It’s not Flame’s fault,” Raine said. “There were men at the stable. They tried to hurt him.”
“We’ll sort that out later,” Gertie said, her expression grim. “Right now, I’ve got to help Gorne clear the arena. Tiny, get Raine out of here. Take her someplace safe. I’m counting on you.”
The troll disappeared.
“Someplace safe,” Tiny muttered under his breath, his jovial features creased in a frown. “Gots to keep Rainey safe.”
“Hold, good giant,” Gowyr said, trotting after Tiny as he strode with Raine on his shoulder down the stairs and out the south gate. “I’ll go with you. I know many—”
A Muddle of Magic Page 33