by Helen Harper
***
I was dragged through many narrow corridors. Given how vast this place was, together with the fact that it appeared to be made entirely of stone, there was only one answer: I was in Edinburgh Castle. That was both good and bad.
I kept my eyes peeled and my wits about me, trying to learn as much as I could during the uncomfortable journey. Other than a large number of closed doors and a lack of decoration, there was little I could work out. The silence, however, was gradually giving way to a strange sort of thunder. I’d never been past the Veil when the weather was anything but hot and muggy but it was possible that storms occurred.
Eventually I was taken up a winding flight of stairs. A female demon was waiting at the top; she glared at me with such ferocity that I thought she was going to kill me right then and there. Instead she unlocked the door next to her and I was shoved inside.
Shaking my head and rubbing the bruises on my arms, I looked around. The noise was deafening. It waxed and waned but it sounded too unnatural to be a storm. I still couldn’t work out what it was.
‘It’s you!’
I jumped half out of my skin. From the shadowed corner of my latest holding pen came the tiny, familiar figure of a pixie. The last time I’d seen her, she was chained to a wooden pole on Arthur’s Seat. Now she didn’t look any the worse for wear for the experience; she was smiling so broadly, I wondered if her cheeks would split.
‘You’re here to save us,’ she breathed. ‘You came back.’
Uh-oh. I was here chancing my arm because I was out of other options and the Fomori army was on the verge of invading the Highlands. I was as much of a prisoner as she was, even if I had a plan or two up my sleeve. Taking the cautious route, I shook my head. ‘If only,’ I muttered.
She stared at me. ‘You’re right,’ she said eventually. ‘There’s always someone listening.’ She glanced round and raised her voice. ‘You hear me? We’re not imbeciles! We’re not going to fall for your stupid plots!’ I gaped at her. She turned her head and winked, then settled down in a heap on the floor.
‘Where are we?’
‘Castle, of course.’
I nodded. ‘Yes, but…’
‘Arena,’ she said sourly. ‘We’re in the holding pen for the arena.’
Nausea rose in my stomach. That sounded… ‘That’s cheering, isn’t it?’
The pixie nodded and my shoulders sank. So the arena was some kind of gladiatorial hell-pit. ‘They think it makes them civilized,’ she spat. I didn’t need to ask who they were. ‘Instead of killing us outright, they pretend to give us a way out. Win and you’ll be freed.’ She paused. ‘As if. No one ever wins.’
‘Execution as sport,’ I whispered. Even Aifric wouldn’t conceive something so horrific. No wonder the Fomori hadn’t hurt me.
The door opened and the scowling female demon entered, carrying something on a tray. She thrust it at me and muttered a string of incomprehensible Fomori sentences.
‘You’re to take the food,’ the pixie said. ‘It’ll help you in the arena.’
I blinked and stared. That was food? It looked like ‒ fungus. The demon glared and yelled something. Helplessly, I took the tray.
‘She doesn’t like you,’ the pixie offered.
‘I kinda got that.’
‘You killed her niece.’
I almost dropped the tray. ‘Excuse me?’
She shrugged. ‘That’s what she says.’
I looked wide-eyed at the demon. I’d never killed anyone; I was never going to kill anyone. She spat at me and backed away, not taking her eyes from me until the door was closed again.
‘The more dead Fomori the better,’ the pixie said.
I didn’t have a response to that. I huddled down with the tray, sniffing cautiously at the brown and grey lumps.
‘We are lucky. They feed us well before the arena. They want us to be strong enough to give them a good show.’
I grinned, thinking she was making a joke then I realised she was being serious. Sobering up, I avoided looking at her, lifted the crude cup and took a sip. It was definitely water. It tasted even fouler than the stuff I’d been given when I’d been held at the Steward’s pleasure. I tried not to think too hard about where it had come from and steeled myself to try the food. It helped that I was ravenously hungry.
I picked up the oddly carved spoon and gingerly tasted. It wasn’t as bad as I’d feared – just mildly salty – but the texture was off-putting, something between the sludge that collects underneath drainpipes and wallpaper paste. I had serious doubts whether it had any nutritional value. Then again, the same could be said for my normal diet of Irn Bru and salt-and-vinegar crisps. One day I’d learn to eat my greens but apparently not today.
I forced down the lot. As soon as I put down the eating utensil, the door was opened again. I was expecting the same angry demon as before but this time it was a different face. Two different faces, in fact.
‘Watch out,’ the pixie muttered. ‘This one can tell truth from lies.’
Interesting. That was at least one other Gift which had transferred to the Fomori.
The other demon, a pockmarked male with a sunken chest, kept his distance. He barked something at me. Unable to understand, I shook my head. He hissed and pointed at the pixie. She sighed. ‘He wants to know how much magic you have,’ she said.
Nonplussed, I frowned. ‘Er … quite a bit?’
She translated for me. The demon glowered and clenched his fists. He shouted at her. ‘How many magics,’ she corrected.
‘Oh. You mean how many Gifts?’ I considered. I supposed I had just the one: stealing. I said as much, holding up a single finger for emphasis. The pixie translated.
The demon’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. He stepped forward, his fist raised. His companion touched his arm and murmured something in his ear.
‘She says you’re telling the truth,’ my cell-mate informed me.
At this, he scratched his head. He looked as if he’d been given a simple sum to complete that somehow wouldn’t add up. He wrinkled his nose then lifted his knobbly shoulders. He yelled a few words, wheeled round and they both left.
I frowned after them. ‘Didn’t he want to know what my Gift … I mean, my magic … is?’
The pixie didn’t seem to care. ‘He already knows,’ she replied carelessly. ‘He told the others to make sure the arena fliers are overhead and at all the exits to stop you.’
‘Stop me from what?’
She glanced at me as if I were slightly mad. ‘Using your Gift.’
Now I was even more confused. Of course, they were under the impression that my Gift was something other than stealing. Last time I was here I’d used that strange dark cloud magic to make my escape. I’d used other magic too but, as far as the demons were concerned, that was the one they had evidence of because they’d seen me use it. Perhaps they thought Byron had created the Illusion of his body still in chains so he could fool them for long enough to run away. I couldn’t see how some winged demons would make a difference against a heavy choking poisonous cloud, however. I didn’t recollect it doing anything other than skimming the ground and rising up perhaps three or four metres. Some odd, nebulous thought tugged at the back of my mind, demanding attention. Unfortunately, before the idea was fully formed, it vanished again. Stupid synapses.
‘What does the brain do when it sees its best friend?’ I asked.
The pixie looked at me from under her eyelashes.
‘Gives it a brain wave.’ I smirked.
Instead of laughing, she looked dejected. ‘You’re not the one we’ve been waiting for at all.’
Everyone was a hater. ‘Guess not,’ I mumbled.
Outside, the arena crowd gave a roar. This time it was so loud I felt the vibrations beneath me. ‘We’re getting close,’ she said. ‘They’re building up to the main event.’
I licked my lips. ‘Us?’
‘Yes.’ She stared into the distance. ‘I suppose I should be proud
that they’re putting me out there with you, even if you’re not the saviour. They only hold these events twice a year so there are a lot of fights and executions to get through. I’ve been kept waiting for a long time.’
I put my arm round her little shoulders. Poor thing. She deserved better than my jokes. She deserved better than this. ‘What did you do to end up here?’ I asked softly, not really expecting a response.
The pixie answered, ‘Stabbed three Fomori and drank their blood.’ My mouth dropped open and I pulled away. She shrugged. ‘I was really hungry.’
I leaned my head against the stone wall of my new prison. The illusion of control indeed.
Chapter Eighteen
The food, if you could call it that, was still sitting uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach when they came for us. I made a last stab at negotiation. ‘Look,’ I said reasonably, ‘I have important information to impart. If you could take me to the guy in charge, I’m sure we can sort all this out.’
None of the many demons who were standing in the corridor and gawking at me answered.
‘Or gal in charge,’ I added. ‘If you lot are all about equal rights and it’s a woman who’s the boss, that’s great by me. I’ll talk to her too.’
All I got was silence then one of the demons, somewhat younger than the others, stretched out an inquisitive finger and poked me. He snatched his hand back and cackled. The demon next to him looked at it in awe. I was tempted to lunge towards him and see what effect that had but I had to make sure that none of these demons saw me as a threat. Frankly, from what she’d told me, the threat was the tiny pixie by my side. She was about as far removed from Lexie as it was possible to get.
We were taken to an open doorway. Peering out, I saw row upon row of demons arranged round a large open area where we were no doubt meant to fight. Hoardings, with lethal-looking spikes poking out, were in place around the audience, presumably to protect them from the evil they were here to watch.
There weren’t just Fomori in the crowd; I spotted various different races, including Sidhe. A frisson of fear ran down my spine; they were baying for my blood and I hadn’t even done anything. They hated me because of what I might do, not because of anything I had done. I wanted to march out there with my hands on my hips and tell them they were being ridiculous. Not that they’d hear me; now we were almost at the arena, the noise was deafening.
The surface of the arena was covered in grey-coloured sand. Here and there were dark patches; I knew without getting close that they were blood. I hissed through my teeth. There had been a lot of variables to consider before I crossed into the Lowlands but I hadn’t imagined anything like this.
There was a loud beating of wings. From this angle, it was difficult to see what was happening but the vast shadow of a winged Fomori was visible across the sand. I guessed he was someone important because the crowd immediately hushed. He began to speak, his harsh voice reverberating around the rickety stadium. He was the MC.
‘Hammer time,’ I whispered.
The pixie glanced at me. ‘They don’t let us have weapons,’ she informed me. ‘It’s not meant to be a fair fight.’
I nodded; an explanation at this point would be far too complicated. And pointless. As the MC demon droned on, and the guards at my back bounced around in a buzz of excited anticipation, I raised and lowered myself on my toes and cricked my neck. I couldn’t imagine just how shite things were about to get.
One of the demons shoved me hard in the small of my back, forcing me onto the arena floor. I stumbled forward, just catching myself from falling. The pixie followed. She might be a hardened killer but she was shaking. We both were.
I didn’t know how many eyes were on us but it seemed like hundreds. Everyone was silent, which was more frightening than the thunderous cheering I’d heard before. I swung round, taking in every inch of the crowd. The air was filled with hovering demons, all of whose attention was fixed on me. I ignored them for now. If this was like a Roman gladiatorial venue, there would be an obvious spot for the very important demons. As I turned to my left, I saw them.
There was a dais, elevated a few metres above the rest of the audience no doubt to keep the elite from being splattered with all that pesky blood or to protect their delicate nostrils from the smell. The combined body odours of all these Lowlanders rivalled the bucket in the cell.
Without the night vision that I assumed everyone else enjoyed, it was difficult to make out much about the demon leaders. There were six seated figures that possessed the same wiry, skeletal bodies as the rest of the Fomori. Beyond that, I couldn’t tell much more about them. I squinted, narrowing my eyes to see more, but it was a wasted effort.
There was a single harsh shout, which sounded like a heartfelt curse, from one of the audience members behind me. That yell opened the floodgates and they all began roaring and chanting again. Far too many tried to throw things. If the projectiles had been rotten eggs or squishy tomatoes that might have been okay but these were stones. With the force that they were being thrown, I’d only need to be hit once in the wrong place and I’d be a goner.
I bobbed and dodged. A small pebble glanced off my shoulder – it still bloody hurt. The pixie yelled, a figure of unmitigated fury. I had to admire her tenacity. She whirled round while I ducked yet another missile.
Just as I was starting to think we’d be stoned to death, a loud horn sounded. The stone hurling stopped and a loud cheer ran round the crowd. They began to stamp their feet, one after the other in perfect timing.
‘Here it comes,’ the pixie muttered.
There was a shudder from the other end of the arena and I saw a rusty-looking gate heave upwards. A furious bellow from the dark corridor beyond was followed by a snort. I licked my lips. ‘What is that?’
The pixie’s response was unequivocal. ‘Monster.’
She wasn’t wrong. The thing that emerged was something out of my worst nightmares. It had some of the features of a Fomori demon but it wasn’t like any of the ones I’d seen before. For one thing, it seemed to be twice the size of the others. Its body was crisscrossed with scars, some gouged so deeply into its flesh that it was a wonder the wounds had ever healed. It was wearing a covering around its groin which I doubted had anything to do with modesty. It wore enormous boots, studded with sharp nails; its face, contorted into a snarl, spoke of darkness and pain.
Involuntarily, I stepped back and the crowd roared louder in delight. The pixie held her ground though her legs were shaking. I kept my focus on the creature advancing slowly towards us, one heavy foot after the other. The closer it got, the more the promise of vile murder glittering in its eyes became obvious.
One of the winged bastards above us dropped something on the sand in front of the monster’s feet. It didn’t even pause but bent down and scooped it up while it continued to stride in our direction. With a sinking feeling, I realised that it was a medieval flail – a spiked ball on the end of a heavy chain. It was far larger than anything I’d seen on television or in a museum and its weight didn’t seem to bother the bastard. With as much effort as it would have taken me to wave a feather boa round my head, the monster began to swing. And still it advanced.
Suddenly it broke into a run, the flail spinning in the air with greater and greater speed. The pixie screamed, a sound not of terror but of a battle cry. She launched herself towards the monster and I had no choice but to throw myself after her. One swipe of that weapon and she’d be mincemeat.
I grabbed a hank of her hair and she yelled in pain as I threw her to one side and out of the demon’s path. It bared its teeth in what was supposed to be a smile. By this point, I was barely aware of the screaming crowd.
The best thing I could do was to get rid of the flail. That was where the immediate danger lay. As my hefty opponent took his first shot and almost lopped off my head, I concentrated on the last trickle of Apportation magic I had left. There was very little there and, even as I pulled it out and concentrated it towards the weapo
n, I knew it would be touch and go. I clenched my fists and focused. The flail vanished from the creature’s hands. While it stared down at its empty palms, I let out a quick breath of relief.
The creature snarled while the crowd booed their dismay then it barrelled towards me, using its whole body as a weapon. I ran, zigzagging away. It bellowed in frustration and turned from to me to the pixie, who was just getting back to her feet. Shite.
‘Hey!’ I yelled. ‘Ugly boy! Get your arse over here!’ I jumped up and down and waved.
It snorted and glanced back. Whatever it might look like, it wasn’t stupid. It knew that I was trying to distract it and didn’t veer off course. Before I could think of something to do, there was a sickening crunch of breaking bones as its fist connected with the pixie’s body. She crumpled like a rag doll. The move was so sudden and completed with such brute force that I had no way of knowing whether she was alive or dead. Whatever state she was in, the demon decided he was no longer interested in her. He twisted back to face me and grinned, his tongue lolling out of his mouth in delighted anticipation.
I backed up again, unable to go much further because of the dangerous spikes surrounding the arena floor. In my peripheral vision, I caught a glint of metal as something flew down from the crowd behind me. A knife thudded into the sand by my feet. Huh; so not everyone was against me. I picked it up, gripping the smooth blade in my sweaty, clumsy fingers. There was a scuffle in the audience, no doubt because of whoever had tossed me this weapon. I didn’t have time to worry about them; the demon was charging towards me again.
I took off, running away and following the ring of the arena round and round. I noted that the pixie was still breathing – that was something. The demon kept pace, hurtling behind me at full speed. When I felt it gaining on me, I switched direction and darted across the middle of the floor. It leapt high into the air, landing a foot or so away, then it kicked, catching me on my thigh as I spun away to avoid the blow.