The Beast of the North (30 page)

‘Ware,’ she said, and we stopped. I gawked at the sight. Beyond the alleys, the small streets widened and finally combined into a spacious road where thousands of people were slowly moving ahead. On top, a huge structure of white and yellow marble spread to left and right, curving out of sight. ‘Dark Sands,’ she told us, and up ahead, house Blacktower scouts were following Falg to the crowds. ‘Come on. We have permanent seats near the Sun Entrance.’

We waited in the line for an hour, slowly shuffling forward. People were swathed in leathers and cloaks, chatting merrily. The dampness and the light snow did nothing to douse the festive mood, not even when the snow finally turned into a drizzle. The façade of the massive structure was littered with small alcoves with burning lamps and candles, and a tune of flutes was playing high in the air, its source unknown. The Blacktower men were pushing resolutely forward, the people around us were scowling at us until Lith smiled at them, apologizing, charming them. Finally, we made it to the gateway, where a pale sun was painted on top of the doorway. ‘Tens of thousands?’ I asked her. ‘People I mean.’

‘Twenty,’ she agreed. ‘Blood and adventure, Maskan. Spill blood, and they remember it. Acts and plays pale in comparison.’

‘What is going to be taking place in there? Some kind of a group event? Was it eighty men and beasts?’ I asked her as we pushed up a stone staircase. Our voices and steps were echoing strangely. Up ahead, I could see huge spine-like supports arching across a vast, circular, gray ceiling.

Lith pushed me to the side. ‘Yes. They have a team event in the afternoon. There are four teams fighting in a maze, and they release a stak into the fray.’

‘A stak?’ I wondered as she pushed us to a small booth of simple stone and pillows. The vast chamber was echoing with voices; people were bustling all over the place like ants over their hill. ‘What is that?’

‘Stak?’ she grinned. ‘You peasant. It’s a lizard. Not terrifyingly huge like it might be, but still large, ferocious, and stealthy. Southern thing. Like most deadly creatures, it is imported.’

We sat there, waiting, and a harried servant in a blue tunic brought us mead. Lith toasted me, and the crowds scattered, settling down very slowly. A buzz of voices made it hard to hear Lith, and she gave up talking soon enough. There were yells and screams as families sought each other, and I could only wonder at the circular building with rows and rows of seats and booths, some very elaborate with house or business crests.

Only then, did I look down.

You could see the rectangular bottom easily from everywhere, but the closer you were, the better you could see the finer details of it. Teams of muscular men were working down there, erecting some last wooden walls with the aid of cumbersome lizards and clever pulleys. There was a large middle room and several corridors led out of it, and I guessed the teams were going to enter through the four corners.

‘Falg will fight with the Silver Fingers,’ Lith said as she leaned on me. ‘They are some ten strong each, there are four teams allowed, only the best teams, and so it’s forty such expert men and women down there in teams. In the evening, they will have famous duels and archery competitions. Most root for the Silver Fingers team. It’s noble sponsored and likely will do very well. Hammar Moonchild is their trainer, and he has rarely trained a losing team—’

‘Surely putting your money on surprise winners might make you rich? What are there? Red, Silver?’

‘Gold Helms and the Feathered Sisters.’ She grinned. ‘Feathers replaced the Blue Blades. It’s some southern outfit. They say they burned the trainers of the Blue alive and bought their arena contract from the owner who had seen it all take place.’

‘I’d wager gold on them,’ I decided, childishly excited about the whole affair.

One of the Blacktower men stood by our booth and held a foaming goblet of some juice nectar, his beard bristling angrily. ‘Won’t matter.’

‘What?’ I asked him, confused. ‘What do you mean?’

He leaned down to me. ‘A Brother, the White one is with the Silver team. I’m sure it’s him. He leads them, and he is not armored as a Danegell, of course, but I am certain it is him. You saw him leaving the house just now. Coincidence? Hardly.’

‘White Brother? A Brother Knight?’ I asked him, confused.

‘They are happy when there is a scuffle, those knights.’ He smiled. ‘That Falg is his guard. They all fight in teams of ten, but all teams have a Spear and a Shield tactic for pairs. Falg is the shield to the White Brother. He guards his partner. I’ve seen them before. Very evil duo.’

I sat there, stupefied. I leaned on Lith. ‘What if the Brother escorts Falg home?’

‘Then we will kill him,’ she whispered. ‘Like I told you. In the alleys.’

‘He killed fifty men the other night,’ I pointed out.

‘Only because he was given a chance to fight,’ she said. ‘We will not make that mistake. I have men looking at the dressing rooms at the Pit’s Edge. We will soon hear if we can take Falg alone down there. You saw how they moved separately, the Brother and he. He has to keep his distance from the slave. We have a hundred men looking at both of them. We won’t fail. Have faith.’

‘There are forty men down there. Thirty will go after him. How can you think—’

The man beside me grunted. ‘More than forty. Remember? Eighty total. There will be the fools as well.’ He looked at me and saw I was not comprehending. ‘Volunteers. The rabble.’

‘Volunteers? What does that mean—’ I asked, but choked as I spied the teams entering their starting areas. There was huge applause and whistling as men and women entered the four corners. There were forty in all. I spied the Feathered Sisters, ten females in leathers and chains, a gorgeous feather ornament on their headbands, their faces painted white and red. They were swarthy and albino, half and half, all hosting tall spears, and small shields. Then there was the Red team, red sashes on their hips and all sturdy fighters, chanting their battle calls, showing their weapons to the crowds who either cheered or mocked them. Then there was the Gold Helm team, their helmets glittering with the metal, and black horsehair reached their calves.

‘Dangerous,’ Lith grinned at me. ‘That hair has gotten many of them killed. You should never have hair or horns on your helmet. Perfect way to get yourself killed, eh?’

‘Yes,’ I agreed, and then the Blacktower man next to me nudged me.

The Silver Fingers team was entering.

And in the front, there was an enormous man with very white hair, pale, tattooed skin, and a feral looking, chain swathed helmet on his head. He raised a whip and a long sword in the air, and I winced as my ears ached for the screams of approval. Men and women were standing up, holding a piece of paper, probably those who bet on the Silver team, and the man in the helmet grinned mightily, showing his tremendous physique and white teeth to the masses. He was taller than I was, broad and powerful. So were the others of the Silver Fingers team, all sturdy men, and there was not a single female amongst them. And there was Falg, his ax, and sword out as he lazily spun them in the air, standing very close to the White Brother
. It was him
, I thought, looking at the leader, the whip was the same, studded with razor-sharp bits of metal.

They yelled some sort of scream of defiance, clashed their weapons together, and the clanging sound echoed even through the noise of the crowds cheering the teams. Then, each team hoisted a spear with a pennant and drums rapped all around the vast place.

The drums quit beating. Silence reigned.

A thin woman in a simple white robe appeared on a balcony that I had overlooked. It was built half over the pit, adorned with gilded pillars and silver leaves. She raised her arms high up to the air.

‘Blood cravings of Dagnar!’ she shrieked, ‘will be sated here this evening! Hail the brave!’

Curiously, none screamed in an answer. People thrummed their feet. I leaned on Lith. ‘I am pretty sure most people in the Fourth Ring and the Fifth have no idea there are such strange rituals in this city.’

Lith leaned on me. ‘Not supposed to speak. It’s an old ritual, one to celebrate blood letting with respect. It’s almost like a sacrifice.’

‘Forty volunteers for the battle,’ the thin woman yelled. ‘To represent the innocent and the weak!’

‘What is this?’ I asked Lith. ‘Where are they?’

‘Having mercenaries fight each other would be a quick, boring butchery,’ she grinned ferociously. ‘So there are forty volunteers.’

And then I noticed Taram. And so did Lith.

‘What is he about?’ she murmured.

Taram was walking our way. He looked very pleased with himself. He stopped before our guard, who stopped him while glancing at Lith uncertainly. Lith nodded, and the guard stepped away and Taram leaned over. ‘Well. Father was right.’

‘Was right?’ Lith asked him. ‘What do you mean? He has a message for us?’

‘No message from him. Only from me. He was right in that I cannot control my urges,’ he giggled. ‘I despise him too much. And he did dare me. He said I cannot hurt him any worse than I did. I think I can.’ He nodded at me.

‘What have you done?’ Lith hissed.

‘I took away your present, sister,’ he laughed.

‘No!’ she said softly, furious.

Taram nodded, near apologetically. ‘I did. Look carefully at the volunteers, boy. And suffer.’ He got up and ignored Lith, who shouted something after him. I got up to follow Taram, but Lith pulled me down.

There was a drumbeat. It was ominous, deep.

A hole appeared in the middle of the central room. Others opened in the corridors. Dust billowed up into the air. ‘Take him away,’ Lith told the guard who grabbed me. I pushed him off me.

Haphazardly armored and armed people appeared from those holes down below.

The elaborately dressed woman yelled. ‘Wish them luck! Let the real fighters win. Be they of the warriors or the innocents. And let there be a force of nature to make it much more interesting.’ She pointed reverently at the ceiling.

‘The sauk!’ someone said too loudly a few rows from us and held his mouth as people glowered at him. On the roof, a hole appeared. Misty smoke billowed from the hole, and then a thick chain rattled to the sight. I didn’t see it at first. I stared at the hugely thick chain coming down, but then I did spot it. What I had thought an abnormally thick part of the chain, moved. People gasped. There was a dark, sleek lizard twelve feet long, with long, elongated neck, thick, scaled tail. It was all entwined on the chain, and it eyed the masses of people staring at it and hissed audibly.

‘Begin!’ the woman shrieked; drums rapped and went silent.

The chain began to descend faster.

In the middle room, the volunteers, some ten of them turned against each other at first, but then they looked up at the descending sauk and all blanched. They ran off for the corridors. The teams bunched together under their colored or feathered pennants, and then I saw Sand.

It was Sand.

It was impossible, but it was he, and he was running from the central room. Lith saw him as well and got up. She was clutching at the railing, her face a mask of shock.

I stood up and whispered. ‘He died.’

‘He didn’t, though. Taram …’ she began. ‘The bastard. You have to think, Maskan. Think.’

I was thinking. And I decided what to do.

Down on the arena, some of the volunteers ran into others of their kind, who instinctively ganged up on the newcomers. A man stumbled into a savage ax cut and flopped to the floor, nearly lifeless. A burly woman speared another in the face and left the victim howling on the ground. People were throwing down dark flowers, celebrating the kills, and I knew then how the arena got its name.

I cursed, for Sand skidded to another room, where three men were waiting. They hesitated; Sand lifted his shield and backed off, his scimitar out. He even had his weapon. The crowd heckled him, but one of the three men gestured for Sand, and he joined them, though cautiously. Overall, the volunteers were trying to come up with big groups, someone always pushing them to cooperate. The Reds were now marching down a corridor, the Silvers were standing under their banner, in no hurry, and the Golds were etching very slowly forward in a big column. And the Feathers? The females? They ran wildly to the corridors and there, the first real battle took place. The ten deadly girls found six men locking shields, bunched up. The girls chanted, and the spears overlapping they went ahead, and their spears snaked for the shields, rapping against them. A deadly shriek could be heard, and I realized some of the spears were wicked razor-sharp hooks. Flesh and shields were pulled aside, spears flashed, and two men bled on the sand that turned dark with blood. The rest ran.

‘Those girls will give the Silver Fingers trouble. I think Maskan is right,’ the Blacktower man snorted, not noticing the tension Lith and I felt. I watched Sand nudge at a man; they moved off, and I knew I would have to help him. The sauk’s chain reached the floor, and the slithering thing got off, immediately hugging a shadow by a wall. It was a thing of claws and spear-like teeth, and it blended with the darkness. A woman ran past it, the thing let go a thrilling, high shriek and jumped on the back of the runner. They rolled in a ball of scales and red, torn flesh.

The Silver team chanted and moved.