Lashyla snorted and turned to leave, but even as she did so, she felt a flicker of awareness, a barely noticeable tendril of doubt lurking in the back of her mind.
Red Espheria.
She’d almost forgotten to pay attention to the extra intuition it gave her, like a sixth sense that she was only beginning to develop. When she focused on that nagging doubt, she saw the truth of Aurelius’s words. The sequence of events last night became clear in her mind, flashes of color and motion, scenes from last night replaying in her mind’s eye.
Aurelius had awoken in his room and left to seek her out. He’d been looking for someone else, but he’d wanted her help. They’d spent hours touring the city in the middle of the night, eventually coming to the Launch. Soon after that, she’d become impatient with him and sent him back to his quarters. He’d returned, searched his room, gone back to sleep on the couch, and awoken hours later to hear her knocking at the door.
There was no memory of his having mated with the queen. Lashyla turned suddenly back to Aurelius. “Let us suppose that I believe you. Why would the queen lie about having mated with you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe . . .” Aurelius shook his head. “Maybe an Eld—” he cut himself off with a quick look at Lashyla’s guards. “—someone with my knowledge and skills could be very useful in Meria.”
Lashyla was surprised by his insight. That is exactly why someone might lie to have him, but assuming her mother had done so . . . Lashyla had nothing to gain from exposing the lie, and everything to lose. Her mother would be disgraced and dethroned. Lashyla would be in no position to take over without any mates of her own. She would be laughed off the thrown. No, that course of action would not be wise.
Lashyla turned to her guards. “Leave us.”
Without a word of objection the guards left and shut the door behind them. Lashyla stayed where she was. Her gaze flickered over Gabrian who stood to one side of the room with a faint smile upon his wrinkled lips. Then her eyes found Reven, and she frowned. “This is for Aurelius’s ears alone,” she said, her eyes flicking from one to the other. Gabrian and Reven reluctantly turned and shuffled into one of the bedrooms. When Lashyla saw the door close, she turned to Aurelius and said, “I believe you are telling the truth, but you have only one hope of escaping your fate.”
“What is that?” he asked.
“You must consent to mate with me.”
Gabrian stood with his ear to the rusty bedroom door, flecks of ancient, peeling paint pricking him through his beard.
Reven was pacing the room. “What can you hear?” he asked.
“Very little. The words are indistinct.”
Reven grunted and resumed wearing a rut into the floor.
But it was a lie. Gabrian could hear everything as clearly as if he were standing in the other room. Magic could reveal many things, but it was better for his purposes that the wolf man think he couldn’t hear. Reven’s allegiances lay closer to the elder than to him.
The princess went on, reiterating her plan, “It is the only way, Aurelius. If you mate with me, I can offer a challenge for you, and then you will be free of my mother’s control.”
“But you said it yourself, you have no other mates to fight a challenge for you.”
“Mate with me tonight and I will leave by the morning to find someone strong enough to defeat Thorin. My mother thinks she is immune to the challenges because Thorin is undefeated, but the only reason he is undefeated is because he is an ugly brute of a man, and no other maiden would be so cold and calculating as to mate with a man for his prowess in battle alone. It is repulsive, and against our very nature, but for you Aurelius, I will sacrifice myself.”
“I’m touched.” There was a dry, sarcastic note to Aurelius’s voice. “What will you do? Mate with a troll?”
“Don’t be absurd. That is impossible; otherwise my mother would have done it already.”
Aurelius’s bitter laughter bubbled through the door. “How can you be sure you’ll find someone to best Thorin in the ring?”
“I cannot, but what have you to lose?”
Aurelius was silent a long moment.
“You are not a virgin, are you?”
“Of course not, but . . .”
“Then?” Her voice returned a moment later, soft and seductive. “Am I so repulsive?”
“No,” Aurelius’s voice was but a whisper.
“Then give me a reason. Why do you resist me so fiercely?”
“It is hard to explain. I need some time to think.”
“Fine,” the princess’s voice returned with a hard edge of steel. “But don’t take too much time, for you’ll soon run out of it. You have until tonight to decide.”
Gabrian heard footsteps retreating, a door open, then close, and finally silence.
Reven stopped pacing. “They are no longer speaking,” he said.
Gabrian turned from the door with a curious look. “How do you know?”
“My ears are keener than yours, old man.”
Gabrian nodded and gave a wrinkly smile. “True.” Privately, he wondered if they had both heard the conversation clearly, and were both equally unwilling to share the details. Gabrian waited for Aurelius to come and open the door to let them out. When Aurelius finally came to let them out, he looked tired and haggard.
“What did the princess have to say?” Gabrian asked innocently.
Aurelius shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Perhaps we could help you?”
“Not unless you can get us out of the city before tonight.”
Gabrian smiled sympathetically. “No, that is impossible, I’m afraid. Even if we found a way out of the city, we must still find the relic before we leave.”
Aurelius brightened suddenly. “That’s right! I found a way out of the city last night. If you find the relic, we can leave!”
Gabrian cocked his head curiously. “Truly? What way is that?”
“Last night Lashyla took me to something the mermaids call the Launch. There’s a fully-functional submarine. After all these years, apparently it’s still working. The mermaids use it to transport their mates from the surface to Meria.”
“Indeed?” Gabrian fought hard to keep the triumphant smile from his face.
“I don’t think Lashyla understood that she was showing me my means of escape. She seemed to think no mere man could ever figure out how to pilot it, but she forgets I’m from a time where such vehicles are common place. It would only take me a few minutes to figure it out. Have you had any luck finding the relic?”
Gabrian frowned sadly and shook his head. “No.”
Aurelius grimaced.
“But take heart. I will redouble my efforts to find the relic. Perhaps I will succeed, and you will be gone before tonight.”
“I hope so,” Aurelius replied.
Yet Gabrian had no intention of taking the boy with him when he left. Aurelius would grow old and eventually die in Meria, and knowing the mermaids, his eventual death would be a gruesome one.
* * *
Gral sat cross-legged in a damp, dark cave that stank sharply of the filth and sweat of other trolls. They each kept to themselves, as far from the others as they could, talking only when absolutely necessary. Gral fumed silently, his mighty shoulders heaving with pent up rage and frustration. He would not fight and kill for these human masters with their sticks that shocked and burned whenever he didn’t obey, but he had no choice. He would fight or he would die.
Even now the wretched drums sounded with a hollow
thump, thump, thump
, calling them into the ring for yet more training. Gral was tired of training! He was tired of throwing heavy boulders around—of hurling nets and tridents at distant targets! He wanted to go home. He wanted to be back in his warm, furry bed inside his old tree cave. He wanted to eat real meat—
red
meat, not just
smelly fishes.
Soon Gral eat meat. Meat and bone of man. Juicy, crunchy, mmmmmm. . .
The heavy iron doors cycled open at the far end of the smelly cave and blinding light poured in from the outside. Gral shuffled out along with the other trolls, his eyes quickly adjusting to the brighter dimness of the arena.
The arena was a rough circle, ringed with thousands of empty chairs and filled with sand. The sand was patched red in places, even though Gral had seen men come to rake and clean it every day. No matter how clean it was, the arena always smelled of old, rancid blood. Gral’s nose wrinkled and he turned his gaze to blink up at the rising rows of seats.
Gral remembered how he’d stood at the bars of his cage last night and watched as those rows of seating had filled with men and mermaids—their cheers and cries, boos and applause booming out from the stands until Gral’s head had ached with the noise, and rising above that sound had come the screams of terror and pain: the songs of the dead and dying just before their souls left their bodies and made the long journey to Hagad.
Gral found the crudely constructed balcony arching out over the arena and remembered how his eyes had widened to see Aurelius, the old one, and that smelly wolf come to take their seats there with the queen. Gral gave an abrupt nod and smiled with a wicked flash of ivory.
He’d bring that stand down and tear them all limb from limb before he died.
“Oy! Ye stinkin’ brute, have ye no ears?” Gral felt a sharp, mind-bending jolt of electricity and his limbs jittered with uncontrollable spasms. “I told ye ta pick up yer trident and start practicin’!”
It was a full minute before Gral regained enough control of his body to turn a mighty roar and snarl upon the one who had jabbed him with his squid stick. It had been the ringmaster. Gral watched him walking away, his back turned, but safely guarded and flanked by three more men with their silly squid sticks. Gral remembered when he’d first seen the writhing tentacles of the creatures tied to the ends of those sticks. Curious, he’d reached out to touch one—
maybe they would make a tasty snack?
he’d thought—but upon only barely touching the creature he’d received a stunning shock that had left him flat on his back and looking up at the coral-crusted ceiling. The man in possession of that stick had clucked his tongue and muttered about the stupidity of trolls.
Gral had learned since then to keep his distance, and to do whatever his human masters bid him to do. That was the best way to avoid being shocked. He would tolerate their demands for now, but they would regret giving him orders. One day he’d catch the lumpy ringmaster by surprise; he’d take the stick from him, and before any of his guards could notice, Gral would beat the man to death with it.
Soon,
he vowed to himself.
But not soon enough. He needed to wait for the perfect opportunity. Until then . . .
Gral shuffled over to the gleaming tridents leaning up against the side of the arena. They were three times the size of those the men practiced with. He’d seen a man try to heft one before, but the weight of it had nearly knocked him off his feet. It took two men just to carry them out into the arena for practice. Gral picked up two in each hand. Moving down to the line of painted sandbags, Gral stepped up to the second farthest of the black lines inked across the sand and took aim with one of his tridents. He let it fly, and it whistled through the air, smacking into the target with a meaty
thump.
The trident buried itself up to the pole. Gral took two long steps back and aimed for the next target.
This time he missed, but not by much.
Gral hefted a third trident and this time he took more time to aim. At last, he hurled the trident with all of his strength. The weapon whistled sharply as it sliced through the air, hurtling toward its distant target.
Thump!
The sandbag went flying, and Gral roared in triumph.
* * *
While under house arrest along with Aurelius and Reven, Gabrian had plenty of time to consider his situation and to formulate a plan of escape. At the moment he was in his room, the door shut for privacy. He was pacing back and forth under the sickly yellow-green light of the coral as he considered his plan.
He would steal the relic from the queen and then . . . and then what? He could escape the city by swimming to the surface. A spell to protect his body from the crushing weight of the water and another to preserve the air in his lungs and he would be on his way. It would, however, take a lot of time to swim to the shore. He’d need to use another spell for stamina and strength. Whilst using so much magic his quarry was sure to sense him and resume pursuit. Not to mention the mermaids would soon discover he’d left and hunt him down, and he’d be hard-pressed to out-swim any of them.
No, it would be much better and easier to use the maidens’ submarine vessel to escape, but to steal such a vessel he would need someone to steer it, which meant he’d either need to take Aurelius with him or stow away on one of the maidens’ trips to the surface.
Lashyla had said that if Aurelius mated with her, she would go first thing the following morning to find a man capable of winning him from the queen. He could always stow away on that trip . . .
if
Aurelius decided to mate with the princess.
And if not?
Gabrian smiled. There were always ways around that. Aurelius would mate with the princess, one way or another, and then he, Gabrian, would steal the relic, and stow away to escape Meria. His plan was flawless.
But there was still the question of where his quarry had gone. Gabrian had watched him die in the ring, killed by an elf—irony of ironies—but that hadn’t been
him
, merely a decoy. No, his real quarry was hiding somewhere in the city. . . .