by Adam Blade
Castor frowned. “So? Did you get hit on the head back then and lose your brains? Step out of the circle, boy.”
The Northern Mountains loomed over the town, jagged and dark in the daylight. The air was tense, as if a storm was nearby, ready to break.
“No,” the boy said. “When they took my father away, he told me I was to be the man in my family. I’m in charge of the house. I’m going to fight you — prove that I’m a man.” His bottom lip trembled and, for a moment, Tanner had to turn his face away.
Castor didn’t waste time on pity. He knocked the boy’s tong up and twisted his blade in an arc that sent the boy’s weapon spinning away. It hit the dusty ground.
“I’m going to put a stop to this!” Tanner said, setting off toward the outside of the circle, with Gwen at his side.
The boy was shaking, watching Castor’s sword. “Wait …” he said.
But Castor swung his blade high. The boy ducked, and Castor shoved him to the ground, planting a boot on the boy’s chest. He lowered the tip of his sword to the boy’s throat.
The crowd broke out into fresh cheers.
Castor grinned, showing white teeth, and waved his arm theatrically over the boy. “Go home to your mother,” he jeered. As the boy picked up his tong, Castor kicked his behind, knocking him into the crowd.
Tanner didn’t need to get involved. The fight had ended without bloodshed. “See?” he scoffed to Gwen. “He’s nothing but an arrogant coward.”
As he spoke, the crowd noise dipped, and the last word — “coward” — sounded louder than he’d intended. All faces turned to Tanner, and the darkest of all was Castor’s.
Castor flicked his sword from side to side like a pendulum as he studied Tanner. His eyes fell to Tanner’s own blade.
“It looks like we have another challenger,” Castor sneered.
The spectators erupted into fresh applause.
“I don’t want to fight you,” shouted Tanner over the din.
“You come here and call me a coward, yet you won’t back up your words with actions,” said Castor.
“I’ve seen enough ‘fighting,’ as you call it,” said Tanner. “I know my true enemies.”
Castor gave an uneasy smile. “All right, all right,” he said, signaling at the crowd to quiet down. “It’s getting late. We’ve been here all day, and my new friend is probably tired. The challenges are over until tomorrow….”
But the crowd groaned with disappointment and began to chant again. “Castor! Castor!”
Castor shrugged. “What’s your name, stranger?”
“Tanner,” he said.
Castor eyed Tanner suspiciously.
“Tanner …” he repeated, smiling. “You look familiar. Yes, that’s it! I once owned a hog that looked just like you. I slit its throat.”
Tanner felt a surge of rage and pushed past the jeering crowd, unsheathing his sword. Blood pounded in his ears and he could barely think straight enough to plan what he’d do next.
“You stepped into the circle, friend,” Castor sneered, pointing his sword at Tanner’s face. “Nobody is going to save you now. Give me your sword, and I’ll let you walk away.”
“Tanner, don’t …” said Gwen. But he hardly heard.
“You’ll have to take it from me,” Tanner snapped back at the boy from Colton.
Castor grinned. He paced closer to Tanner, his eyes narrowed, while the crowd cheered. His spare hand drifted toward the stubby dagger in his belt. Tanner drew his sword and held it low, ready to protect his torso.
Castor drew his dagger and attacked. In one hand he wielded his sword; in his other, the dagger. He swiped left with the sword’s blade, and when Tanner blocked, Castor spun — just like he had with the skinny young boy — and darted forward with his dagger. Tanner stumbled backward, and Castor kicked him to the ground. Castor’s sword blade was pressed against Tanner’s throat. He raised the point of his dagger above Tanner’s chest.
“All I have to do is let go,” he said, jerking his head at the dagger, “and it will plunge into your heart.” Before he finished speaking, Tanner swiftly rolled to one side. Castor released the dagger, but it pierced the muddy ground. Tanner jumped to his feet, and, as Castor retrieved his dagger, Tanner brought his sword down. Castor straightened up just in time, blocking Tanner’s attack. Hastily, Castor shoved his dagger into his belt and attacked again with his sword. Tanner parried high, dodged a sideswipe, and just managed to bat down Castor’s sword. They circled.
He’s better than I am, Tanner realized.
He could see that Castor knew it, too. He was waving his fist at the crowd again and nodding at the responding chants.
Castor knocked Tanner’s sword down, forcing him to double up. Tanner rolled under a swipe at his neck and dodged backward, so that Castor hacked the ground.
That’s it, thought Tanner as Castor, breathing heavily, wiped the dirt from his blade. I’m faster than he is! I’ll tire him out!
Tanner glimpsed Gwen in the crowd, surrounded by shouting women and children. Her face was creased with concern. Tanner was almost caught off guard as Castor charged at him. Tanner rolled and vaulted a low swing that almost caught his leg. He circled away again.
“Stand still!” Castor shouted, panting. “Fight like a man!”
Castor feinted right — but he was slowing down. Tanner dodged Castor’s blow, knocked his sword down, and slashed at him, slicing through Castor’s tunic.
He’s tiring. Tanner pressed in again. Castor blocked in fluid strokes and tried to push him back. But Tanner leaped around him, and as Castor spun, Tanner caught Castor’s sword from behind — the blades clanking and scraping — and Tanner pulled, trying to yank Castor’s weapon away. Castor strained against him, panting, his face slick with sweat.
The roar of the crowd was deafening. They weren’t just cheering Castor’s name anymore; Tanner was drawing just as many cheers. People climbed onto ruined rooftops and children perched on women’s shoulders to get a better view.
His face twisted with effort, Castor yanked his sword free. He yelled a battle cry as he leaped at Tanner.
Tanner braced his feet wide and held his sword ready to meet Castor’s. The blow made his blade shake so violently it felt as if it might shatter. But Castor had landed awkwardly. Tanner shoved him backward, and as Castor stumbled, Tanner clashed his blade against the other boy’s. Castor fell to the ground. Tanner kicked his opponent’s sword away, put his boot on Castor’s chest, and lowered his sword to the other boy’s throat. The crowd shouted its applause.
“This fight is over,” Tanner said, wiping the sweat from his eyes, his chest heaving. Castor stared up at him, more surprised than frightened. Tanner looked for Gwen again in the crowd and smiled with relief when he saw her. But she was cupping her hands around her mouth, shouting something at him.
“— out!”
Tanner frowned. Look out?
Something heavy hit him from behind. The world blurred as the ground came up to smack him in the face and chest. The crowd fell silent. Tanner rolled over.
A great, coiled ball of golden fur and muscle.
She was a massive cat, as large as Gulkien. The creature arched her back, her tail pointed straight up. Her eyes glittered with an angry green light, and she bared razor-sharp teeth at Tanner. At the edge of his vision was Castor, sitting up and brushing the dirt from his hair. The crowd screamed and scrambled away in fear.
A Beast!
Tanner stayed frozen on the ground, not daring to move. His eyes fixed on the creature, as her tense, gigantic muscles rippled under golden fur. Daggerlike claws slid out from her paws and she spat angrily at him. The Beast tensed, ready to pounce. Beyond the creature, Tanner could see Castor smiling. Tanner felt empty fear in his gut.
I’m going to die.
You’ve made Nera angry,” said Castor, wiping his sword as he walked up to where Tanner lay splayed under the Beast’s vicious jaws. “Now you’ll stay down there in the dirt until I let
you up.”
With a laugh, Castor allowed Nera to wrap her tail around his waist. Then he was swung up to sit astride her neck. The Beast raked the ground next to Tanner’s head, while Castor grinned and folded his arms across his chest.
Tanner looked from the Beast to Castor. He’s been chosen, Tanner realized with a jolt, just as Firepos chose me, and Gulkien chose Gwen. It couldn’t be!
I sense that my Chosen Rider is under attack — from an old friend. I break through the clouds, plummeting down on outspread wings, flames flickering at their edges. I land on the ruined market wall. I see Nera. She is wild, crazed to protect her Chosen Rider. This is not a game. Nera wants blood — I can see it in her eyes. Her loyalty has clouded her senses. Tanner is her prey.
I call to Gulkien. We must act — now!
Tanner started as the air rushed back in a whirlwind of dust. The crowd screamed, and Firepos and Gulkien burst into the square overhead on thundering wings. As Firepos shrieked, Gulkien howled a jolting, visceral cry. The villagers covered their ears, and the Beasts swooped low, huge and angry. Firepos flew at Nera, beating her wings and snapping with her hooked beak, forcing the Beast away from Tanner. Gulkien caught Nera’s leg in his jaws and yanked her into the air so that Castor lunged forward to cling to his Beast’s throat. Nera twisted, clawing Gulkien’s face in a bloody spray that knocked Gulkien off balance, but before Nera landed, Firepos had her. She clamped her beak on Nera’s neck — Nera’s claws flashed at Firepos’s eyes — and the flame bird jerked backward, releasing Nera. Gulkien roared, baring his gums and fangs, Gwen standing next to him.
Murmurs rippled around the crowd, as the people stared in astonishment at the three Beasts. “I was told about such things by my father,” Tanner heard someone say, “but I never thought they really existed.”
Castor leaped down from his Beast. Turning in a slow circle, he took in the sight of Firepos and Gulkien, looking them up and down. He tucked a stray lock of golden hair behind an ear and straightened his shoulders, facing up to the Beasts. Gulkien let out a low snarl.
“Your pets are impressive.” He paused. “If you like that type of thing.” He rested a hand in Nera’s thick fur and smiled up into her massive face. “For myself, I prefer a Beast that can actually fight.” As he spoke the last word, Nera sent out a claw toward Tanner where he was sprawled on the ground, placing its point against his chest. He didn’t dare move. Firepos cried out with an angry caw, and Nera slid her claws back into the pads of her feet and pulled her paw away from Tanner.
Don’t be fooled. Nera is a friend. Tanner heard Firepos’s message rumble through him. So why is his Chosen Rider acting like an enemy? he thought.
Gwen ran toward Tanner as he got to his feet. “Are you all right?” she asked.
Before Tanner could respond, Castor threw back his head and laughed. “This isn’t over. Get on your Beast, and let’s see who deserves to win!”
“Whatever you want,” Tanner shouted back. “I’m ready!”
Stop now, Firepos pleaded with him. End this. Tanner wouldn’t listen, pushed Firepos’s message out of his head.
Gwen grabbed his arm. “Stop it! This is stupid — you don’t have to fight! And have you forgotten — we have more important things to do.”
Castor laughed again on Nera’s back as she leaped from spot to spot, covering the entire length of the square, then back again. Tanner had never seen a Beast move so fast, her golden coat shining.
Tanner struggled to contain his anger. As Castor’s Beast paused, he stepped up.
The other boy raised his sword. “Well, Tanner, get on your bird, so I can fight you properly. Beast against Beast! Or are you too much of a coward?”
Tanner’s anger flared again, and he found himself climbing onto Firepos, disturbing her feathers as he scrambled. Let’s end this now! Tanner silently told his Beast.
“What about the mask?” Gwen cried. “What about defeating Derthsin?”
“I need to wipe the grin from Castor’s face first,” Tanner insisted, refusing to look at her. He drew his sword.
“You’re a fool,” Castor yelled. “This is going to be fun!”
The crowd was watching again from the nearby buildings, and when Nera bounded up to Firepos, the villagers scrambled onto the broken rooftops and nearby trees to get a better look.
“Let’s show him, Firepos,” Tanner said. “Fly!”
Firepos shrieked and took off, surging high above the square. As Tanner and Firepos rose, Nera circled the ground below them, raking the air with extended talons. It almost looked as though the huge cat was smiling. Tanner realized that Castor’s Beast was thinking the same as Firepos: that this was a silly skirmish they needed to get out of the way. For a moment, he felt foolish — then he spotted Castor’s mocking grin, and red spots of anger danced before Tanner’s eyes. Nera sent out a teasing paw toward Firepos’s tail feathers, and Tanner’s Beast jerked awkwardly to one side. That was all the excuse Tanner needed….
I twist in the air. Nera fights well, but so do I. We understand each other — this is not so much a fight as a game. We shall not harm each other, but these boys have so much anger running through them. They need to work it off. But I must control myself. I trust Nera to do the same. My Chosen Rider whispers into my ear, “We will win. Help me, Firepos.”
I don’t want to break Nera, and I won’t. But Tanner’s anger must run its course.
“This is your last chance!” Castor yelled. “Come down and give up, or they’ll be picking your pieces off the square in the morning!”
Tanner glanced beneath him. “You’re all talk, Castor!” he called down.
Castor laughed and raised his sword. “You coward. Taking to the air, far out of reach. What kind of a fighter does that make you?”
Tanner dug his knees into Firepos’s sides and directed her down. His Beast landed in the dust. Tanner and Castor locked eyes.
Castor leaned on Nera to urge her on. The Cat Beast surged toward Tanner and Firepos. Nera roared, her cry high and angry. Castor leveled his sword and bellowed.
“Now, Firepos!” Tanner told his Beast, leaning low over her neck.
Firepos swooped forward so suddenly that the wind knocked Tanner backward; he caught his balance and aimed his sword. The Beasts rushed closer — Nera roaring like thunder, Firepos screaming a terrible flame bird cry — and the boys braced their blades.
Tanner saw the glint in Nera’s eye and the vicious curve of her fangs. Firepos suddenly broke left, and Nera darted to the right. Tanner ducked as Castor leaned out dangerously far and slashed his blade through the air. The people watching cried out in alarm.
“Too late!” Tanner called back. He heard Castor yelling impatiently at his Beast. “Come on, Nera! Now!”
His Beast darted at Firepos. Tanner held his sword with both hands, gripping Firepos’s body with his thighs. As he rushed closer to Castor, Firepos flying low to the ground, he tensed. Their blades clashed in a shower of sparks and the impact almost wrenched his shoulder out of joint. Castor’s sword sailed through the air, clattering into the square.
“You’ve lost!” shouted Tanner.
For the first time since Tanner had met him, Castor looked uncertain, but his face set in a grim smile. “I’ve still got Nera!” he called back.
He urged the Beast around, and Firepos and Nera came at each other a third time. Firepos was flying so quickly that the air rush sucked Tanner dangerously over Firepos’s neck — he slipped, almost fell, and caught himself at the last moment.
A terrible howl cut through the air, and Gulkien flew into view. Gwen rushed to her Beast, her face full of understanding.
“Help!” she called, twisting around to look at Tanner and Castor. “The village is being attacked.”
Gulkien calls us. A warning cry.
Nera and I break off from the attack, and her rider cries out in anger. Creatures are already swarming the market square — varkules and riders. A cry rings out from the soldiers: “Death ha
s come, death has come….” The people scatter, but are chased down. The riders pursue them with lassos, bringing the townsfolk down like cattle, slinging them over their saddles.
I call to Nera. It is time to forget our battle. To still our hearts. Our anger should be directed toward our true enemies, not one another. She bows her golden head in understanding.
The villagers were screaming.
“Round up the women and children!” shouted one of the riders. “Any who can work. And keep your eyes peeled for those Beasts and their friends.”
Tanner saw an elderly woman squirming on the ground, her ankles bound with rope. Three varkules had pressed a clutch of Castor’s people against a wall, snapping with drooling jaws. Tanner could smell their awful scent from where he was. The foul, snarling animals didn’t see Gulkien until his shadow was directly overhead. The wolf collapsed his wings and dropped. Gwen’s Beast snarled and fought, tearing men apart with his claws and throwing bodies to the ground. Blood welled up from an open wound in a soldier’s chest. With a mixture of ragged growls and human shouts of terror, the varkules and their riders were no more. Gwen was watching Gulkien from a distance, her face white. Then she pulled her rapier from its hiding place in her cloak’s lining, ready to fight.
Tanner steered Firepos over the crowd. With two slashes of his sword, two enemy riders fell dead beside their steeds. The varkules, panicked from the aerial attack, ranged up onto their hind legs, nearly throwing their riders. They snarled at the Beasts above them, pawing the air, the hair on their spines bristling. But the Beasts were far out of reach. One by one, they retreated, galloping away. One of them dragged a lifeless armored corpse behind, tangled in his stirrups.
“Fall back!” shouted the soldiers’ leader. “Retreat!”
His men responded, charging from the village on any road they could find. The leader wasn’t so lucky. Nera pounced from the top of a building, burying her claws in his varkule’s chest. The hyena-like creature rolled over its rider, the striped fur on its spine crushed beneath its weight. An ear hung, torn and bloody, from the varkule’s head. The animal gave an anguished wail as its rider lay crumpled beneath it. Tanner could see the awkward twist of the man’s legs and the way that his head hung at a severe angle from his neck. He would fight no more.