The Crimson Claw

by Deborah Chester

  Israi glared at the coverlet, furious with him. Why did he always have to think of himself? Why did he have to always come first? She was his successor. Why couldn’t he share more of his privileges with her? It was ridiculous to make her wait, to make her ask, to deny her what she wanted. She felt as though she were tied with chains, unable to act or to live life freely. And her impatience was like something raging inside her, driving her to challenge him, forcing her to reach past him at every opportunity. She hated it that he would deny her anything. After all, she had apologized prettily. Why could he not now relent?

  “Father—,” she tried one last time.

  But the Kaa left her in silence, without a backward glance, striding out as rapidly as he had entered.

  Startled by his abrupt departure, by the very rudeness of it, Israi stared after him open-mouthed. Then her anger came boiling up anew. She seized another cushion and hurled it at the door. Then another, and another, until all her cushions lay scattered across the floor.

  Wearied by her tantrum, she lay down again, curling on her side although it was uncomfortable now to lie in her favorite position with her egg sacs full. She thumped her bedding restlessly, still seething with resentment.

  The Kaa was unfair, with no sense of justice. If she had to lay her eggs in the Public Hatchery, then she wanted no part of them. She wished she’d aborted them. She would have been in deep disgrace, but she wouldn’t have had to enter a public facility among commoners, as a commoner. To be reduced in rank for even a day was degrading and humiliating. Every female present would be permitted to stare at her. Everyone would see her inexperience. She would never recover from the shame of it, especially from the idea of some stranger from another city fertilizing her eggs. He might be anyone, of any occupation. Her imperial progeny squandered in this way . . . she loathed the whole idea.

  Well, so be it. If her father was so short-sighted that he couldn’t see the advantages of allowing her superior offspring to live in the palace, then let him mourn the fewer and fewer hatchlings born every year. Why should she care, when he was determined to be not only a hypocrite but a fool?

  How many hours until dawn? She felt restless. She could feel the hour approaching in the very thrum of her blood. She would go, because she would be forced to, and she would leave as swiftly as she could. She would not say her prayers, and she would not bless her eggs before she departed. Though she carried them, they were not hers, would never be hers. Therefore, they had no importance. They were like her body’s natural wastes, to be disposed of and left. She would not waste her thoughts or her feelings on them again.

  But neither would she forget her father’s cruelty. Neither would she forgive, down deep in the secret places of her heart.

  CHAPTER•SIX

  Ampris dodged Ylea’s thrusting spardan point, stumbled in the deep sand of the indoor practice arena, and went with the fall, hitting the ground and rolling rapidly to avoid another jab of the spardan that narrowly missed her eye. Grunting with the effort, she jumped to her feet in an acrobatic kip and swung around on her heels with a whistling slice of her glaudoon.

  The edge smacked hard against Ylea’s armored side and bounced off harmlessly. Ylea roared in fury and attacked, but the whistle was blowing.

  “Halt!” Halehl’s amplified voice called down to them from the stands.

  Ampris obeyed at once, stepping back at attention. But Ylea continued her charge. Still roaring, she plowed into Ampris and knocked her flat, pounding her with both fists before a charge jolted through her restraint collar.

  Her roar rose several octaves to a shriek. Flailing, she fell over while Ampris scrambled free. Ylea’s muscles locked up and went into spasms, making her jolt against the ground with her eyes rolled back in her head for several seconds before she was released.

  Ampris watched her warily, knowing the jolts couldn’t be as harmless as everyone said. Ylea got too many of them, too often. It was making her crazier than ever, and harder to evade.

  Bruised by her hard fall in the tackle, Ampris resisted the urge to rub her aching hip, and stood at attention again while Ylea snorted and moaned into the sand. Finally the older Aaroun staggered upright and shook herself with a grunt.

  Glaring at Ampris, she stood a short distance away and pulled herself to attention also.

  Silence fell over the arena.

  “Well done, Ampris,” Halehl’s voice came down to them. “Ylea, go cool off and get some water. Teinth, your turn.”

  Teinth came trotting over to Ampris. After Ylea, he was the second most seasoned gladiator on the team. Never one to say much, never one to get himself in trouble with Halehl or the subtrainers, he was blocky and sleek, with pale beige fur marked with light brown stripes. A distinctive streak of brown marked his nose, and his eyes gleamed at Ampris in open appreciation. He was the one who had called her pretty on her first day. He was the one who always managed to sit beside her during their shared midday meal. He was the one who mumbled distracting chatter in her ear during their training vids unless one of the subtrainers caught him and made him sit elsewhere.

  Ampris, unused to being courted, had learned that among Aarouns it was the female who initiated the mating rituals. Teinth was just making himself attractive and available. But she had no desire for him. There was too much to do, too much to learn, and only a week left until the season opened. Ampris was still scrambling to learn how to fight with the team, in the famous Galard style. She had adapted to the gravity. She was learning to cope within the tight constraints of the sensor suit. But as the days went by, zooming up to her first professional competition, her nervousness was increasing.

  “Teinth,” Halehl’s voice called down to them, “show Ampris the Wind as Air trick.”

  Teinth lifted his right hand in acknowledgment of the order and turned to Ampris. “This is the best one got by us,” he said, his voice hoarse and ruined from an old blow that had once crushed his throat. “Can only use it once. Only if you outmatched.”

  “That’ll be the first day,” Ylea said from near the wall, where she was helping herself from the drinking pail.

  Ampris backed her ears, but Teinth ignored the interruption. The other team members stood out of the way, silent and watching. There were four males on the team and two females, herself and Ylea. The males had begun to accept her, although they continued to tease and talk about past seasons in a way that left her out. Ylea hated her more than ever, and constantly tried to trick her, hurt her, or get her in trouble with Halehl. But at the Bizsi Mo’ad, fellow trainee Sheir’s constant persecution had taught Ampris how to avoid dirty tricks during practice drills. She’d never thought she would be grateful for Sheir—until she met Ylea. As for getting her into trouble with Halehl, Ylea’s methods were crude and pathetically obvious. Usually they backfired on her, making her hate Ampris more than ever.

  “Ampris,” Teinth said loudly, snapping her attention back to him. “Listen close.”

  “Sorry,” she said, embarrassed, and focused on what he was trying to show her.

  “First, show you how to take trick,” he said. He gripped her shoulder and kicked at her feet. “It comes at you, you fall straight back, see?” He arched his back, demonstrating without actually falling over. “Fall back, clean and fast. No tumble. No roll like do most times.”

  Ampris backed her ears, not understanding. “But then you’re exposed—”

  “Listen close. Want to fall fast. Get to ground fast. Get back parallel to ground. Tuck legs this way.” He stretched himself out on the ground and drew up his legs tight against his middle, drawing one arm around them. “Momentum pull you down and under opponent. Like leap, only you fall. Must be fast, like wind sweeping under.” He motioned with his hand, then scrambled up and pulled her around to face him, kicking her feet apart until her stance suited him.

  “Attack. You drop back. Use attack force to help. Drop back, fall fast, tuck legs, go under.”

  Ampris nodded. “Then I cut from unde
rneath.”

  “No! No cut. No slash. Stab, straight up into vitals.”

  Revulsion shivered through her. Quickly she looked away, to hide it, but Teinth had seen.

  With a growl, he gripped the front of her training harness and pulled her close. He glared into her eyes. “No mercy in arena,” he said, his ruined voice rasping at her with more hostility than she’d ever seen in him. For the first time she glimpsed how he would be in the ring, facing down his opponent. The appreciative flirtation had vanished from his eyes, and only implacable purpose bored into her.

  “No mercy!” he repeated. “Stab to kill. You down where you can’t get up. No kill opponent, opponent surely kill you.”

  Swallowing hard, Ampris nodded.

  He glared at her a moment longer, as though to make sure she got the point, then he gave her a quick rub between her ears and pushed her away.

  “Try now,” he said, pointing at the ground. “Fall and tuck.”

  Ampris hated this part, especially when Halehl boosted the energy field in her sensor suit, making her suddenly twitch all over. Trying to ignore it, she flung herself on her back and pulled up her legs as Teinth had directed.

  She hit hard, making her teeth snap together, and knew even before Ylea’s raucous laugh drowned out the snickers of the others that she’d done it wrong.

  Teinth was shaking his head. He gave her a hand to pull her up. “Pretty one, listen close,” he said. “Don’t drop like supply sack falling off transport. Angle of momentum all wrong. Not straight down. Under. Try again.”

  Ampris thought a moment, visualizing the move in her mind. She realized she had to put all the momentum into her hips, leading with them. That meant she must spring up at an angle that would then turn her into a falling projectile.

  She leaped into the air, flinging herself back, and tucked. When she landed, the air came out of her with a grunt.

  Once she could focus again, Teinth was standing over her, shaking his big head. “Too high,” he said while she scrambled upright. “Throw your pretty self on my sword point that way. Not good to be here.” He held his hand at chest height, then moved it down below his hips. “Stay out of target zone. Do again. Not so high, and faster.”

  She pulled her ears down flat against her skull, determined to get it right.

  This time he lunged at her, and in startlement, she jumped too fast and got it all wrong.

  The next time she did it perfectly, finding herself skidding beneath him. He jumped aside, although she wasn’t holding a weapon, and grinned at her toothily.

  “Better,” he said, and she warmed to the praise.

  “Now, show you how to attack,” he said. “Trick go two ways. Someone come at you with this, drop under and stab up. Good. But maybe you go at someone too big, arms too long. You can’t get in close enough to reach.”

  “Yeah!” Ylea called, pounding on her chest. “Someone like me!”

  Teinth rolled his eyes. “Wish could be so,” he muttered, and Ampris had to battle back a laugh.

  “Wind as air,” he went on, regaining her attention. “Wind hold you up, and you dive at opponent. No drop on back this time. Instead, leap forward. Must go up high now, not low. Go high, over guard of blade, in arc.” He motioned with his hand, and she nodded, visualizing it. “Tuck in elbows close to sides, this way. Weapon part of you, part of arc. Again, you stab, but not with arm, with whole body.”

  “Like this?” she asked, tucking her arm close to her side, then driving it forward. “My momentum puts the force behind the blade?”

  “No. Arm not move. Hold tight to body. Hold hard. Blade in hand will be taller than head when held this way.” He drew his glaudoon and demonstrated.

  Ampris saw how the tip of the blade extended maybe a hand’s length above his head.

  “Stab with whole body, with force of whole body hurled at opponent. No move arm.”

  Ampris backed her ears uneasily. “But the opponent’s blade can draw back and slash me—”

  “Wind as air,” he said. “Too high. Too fast. Up over blade. Drive whole force into opponent’s chest, or throat. Throat is best if you get that high. Follow through completely. When you get high and fast enough, opponent no get you first.”

  She didn’t like it, but Teinth pulled his sword arm tight against his side, and leaped in demonstration. Not until he nearly hit the ground did he break the arc of his body and fold swiftly to roll upon his shoulder.

  Bouncing upright, he faced her breathlessly and said, “Will take opponent down. Hold blade till opponent hit ground, then break fall in roll. Timing must be good, otherwise, good way to break arm.”

  Sheathing his glaudoon, he took a stance and held his arms in front of him. “You try. Without weapon.”

  Ampris backed up several steps, taking short, quick breaths in preparation. She pulled her elbows to her sides, tucking her arms tight, then launched herself. As she leaped, the sensor suit boosted its energy wave, making her yell as though scalded. She jumped too high and too hard, hurtling nearly over Teinth’s head and landing in a rough, jolting tangle of arms and legs.

  Stunned, she lay there a moment until Teinth dragged her up and gave her a shake. “Okay, pretty one?” he asked in hoarse concern. “Okay?”

  The world was still spinning a little. She blinked at him, trying to focus, and gave an unsteady little nod.

  Teinth snarled and turned to glare up into the stands. “The master must stop!” he called. “She don’t need the boost.”

  A subtrainer ran over to them. “Quiet,” he said. “You know better than to question Master Halehl’s methods.”

  “They’re wrong for her,” Teinth insisted, while Ampris dizzily put her hands to her skull. “Work on Ylea. Work on Sanvath good. Not for Ampris. Mess up her talent. Make her—”

  A jolt went through his restraint collar, silencing him abruptly. Teinth dropped his hold on her and staggered sideways, gasping with his hands at his throat.

  The subtrainer glared at Teinth, then at Ampris. “Get back to work,” he said coldly and strode back to his place.

  Ampris gazed up into the stands, where Halehl sat in the shadows, but Halehl said nothing.

  When Teinth stopped gasping and choking, he slowly came back to her and resumed his stance. “Again,” he said to her in a strangled whisper.

  She gathered herself, putting her anger aside in order to concentrate. Again she ran at him and leaped. This time, however, Halehl did not zap her through the sensor suit. She went up and over Teinth’s outstretched arm, making the arc of her body like he’d told her, and crashed headfirst into his chest just below the base of his throat.

  He fell like a sack beneath her, but not before something flashed in his eyes. Even as they landed together, she knew that this was how his throat had been crushed.

  She scrambled to her feet, offering him a hand up, while she thought about Halehl’s cruelty in making Teinth show her the move that had probably nearly cost him his life. But at the same time, she knew there could be no fear in the arena, no hesitation.

  Teinth met her sympathetic gaze with eyes clear and reflective. He didn’t want her pity, and she knew better than to offer it.

  “Better,” he said and cast a defiant look in Halehl’s direction.

  They tried the move a few more times, with Ampris improving steadily, then they tried both moves with weapons.

  “Before leap, don’t tuck arms so far ahead,” he told her. “Too much warning to opponent. Last minute.”

  She had to practice it again and again and again before he was satisfied. Not until her fur was soaked beneath the sensor suit and her lungs burned for air did Halehl finally call a halt.

  Sanvath and Omtat were put through drills after that. Ampris rested on a bench and watched, learning and refining her skills. Then Teinth and Nink were harnessed together at the waist before working out against machines rolled into the arena.

  Ampris enjoyed watching them. They worked well together as team fighters, the
ir footwork always in unison, their bladework complementing each other.

  Then Sanvath and Omtat were harnessed together and faced the machines. And finally it was Ylea and Ampris’s turn. Ylea’s huge size made her an awkward teammate, especially when she and Ampris were yoked together. She tended to sling them around without warning, pulling Ampris off her feet. If Ampris lost her balance, Ylea would turn on her with a snarl of blame, forcing the subtrainers to intervene.

  “Ylea, you’re on the same side,” Halehl said, his voice less patient than usual. “It’s not Ampris you’re trying to kill. Remember that.”

  Ylea flicked her ears back hard enough to set her fancy cartouche jingling. “As the master says,” she replied reluctantly.

  The practice went on, with Ampris jerked and yanked about mercilessly. She stumbled, missed sword strokes that she shouldn’t have, and felt like a fool. This was the one way that Ylea could make her look stupid, and by the time they halted for midday break, Ampris was boiling.

  In the messroom, located to one side of the indoor arena, Ampris grabbed her filled tray from the Kelth worker who served her and marched over to smack it down on the table beside Teinth’s. She sat heavily next to him and bit into her meatroll with a snap of her teeth.

  As team leader, Ylea took her reserved place at the head of the table. She wore only two necklaces today and a number of bracelets that bulged beneath the tight webbing of her sensor suit. Her claws were painted green instead of carmine.

  “Two days from now we ship out,” she announced, her beady eyes glowering at each of them. “It’s a fast jump gate to round one this year.”

  Teinth was eating steadily, ignoring her, but Sanvath looked up from his food. “Rentaur?” he asked.

  Ylea flicked her ears. She was still rearranging her food on her tray. It was a ritual with her. Fruit had to be on the top left corner. Meat had to be in the right bottom corner. Grains had to be in the middle. The cup had to be in the top right corner, turned so that her name, which was inscribed on it, faced her. Vitamin and mineral supplement pellets had to be off her tray and rowed up on the table along the top center of her tray. She wouldn’t eat a bite until everything was in its place.