The Emerald Storm (The Riyria Revelations #4)

“I’ve never even seen a Ghazel,” Grady admitted. “What are we talking about here?”


“Well,” Hadrian began, “they have deadly fangs and if given the chance will hold you down and rip with their teeth and claws. The Ghazel have no qualms about eating you alive. In fact, they relish it.”

“So they’re animals?” Wyatt asked. “Like bears or something?”

“Not really. They’re also intelligent and proficient with weapons.” He let this sink in a moment before continuing, “They’re usually short looking, but that’s misleading as they walk hunched over and can stand up to our height or taller. They are strong and fast and can see well in the dark. The biggest problem—”

“There’s a bigger problem?” Royce asked.

“Yeah, funny that, but you see the Ghazel are clan fighters, so they’re organized. A clan is a group of five made up of a chief, a warrior, an oberdaza, a finisher, and a range. The chief is usually not as good a fighter as the warrior. And don’t confuse a Ghazel oberdaza with a Tenkin. The Ghazel version wields real magic, dark magic, and he should be the first one we target to kill. They won’t know we are aware of his importance so that might give us an edge.”

“Leave him to me,” Royce announced.

“The finisher is the fastest of the group, and it will be his job to kill us while the warriors and oberdaza keep us busy. The range will be armed with a trilon, the Ghazel version of a bow, and maybe throwing knives as well. He will likely stay near the oberdaza. The trilon isn’t terribly accurate, but it’s fast. His job won’t be so much to kill us as to distract. You will want to keep your shield arm facing him.”

“Will we have shields?” Grady asked.

“Good point.” Hadrian looked over the weapons provided. “No, I don’t see any.”

“The clan is well organized and experienced. They will communicate through clicks and chattering which will be gibberish to us, but they can understand everything we say. We’ll use that to our advantage.”

“How do we win?” Wyatt asked.

“By killing all of them before they kill all of us.”





***




They spent the morning hours sparring and practicing. Luckily, they were all adept with basic combat. Wesley had trained with his brother and as a result was a far better swordsman than Hadrian expected. Grady was tough and surprisingly fast. Wyatt was the most impressive. His ability with a cutlass showed real skill, the kind Hadrian recognized instantly as something he called killing experience.

Hadrian demonstrated some basic moves to counter likely scenarios. Most dealt with parrying multiple attacks, like those from both mouths and claws, something none of them had any training in. He also showed them how to use the trilon Erandabon provided, and each took their turn with Grady showing the most promise.

Hungry after the morning’s practice, they sat to eat once more.

“So, what’s our battle plan?” Wyatt asked.

“Wesley and Grady will stay to the rear. Grady you’re on the trilon.”

He looked nervous, “I’ll do the best I can.”

“That’s fine, just don’t aim anywhere near the rest of us. Ignore the battle in the center of the arena and concentrate your arrows on the oberdaza and the range. Keep them off balance as much as possible. You don’t have to hit them, just keep them ducking.

“Wesley, you protect Grady. Wyatt, you and I will form the front and engage the warrior and chief. Just remember your line and stay away from him. Questions?”

If there were any, no one spoke up, so they all bedded down for a nap. After the workout, even Wesley managed to fall asleep.





***




The arena was a large oval open-air pit surrounded by a stone wall behind which tiers of spectators rose. Two gates at opposite ends provided entrance to opposing teams. Giant braziers mounted on poles illuminated the area. The dirt killing field, like everything else at the Palace of the Four Winds, had suffered from neglect. Large blocks of stone had fallen and small trees grew around them. Near the center, a shallow muddy pool formed. A partially hidden ribcage glimmered eerily in the firelight and a skull hung from a pike that protruded from the earth.

Walking out, Hadrian’s mind reeled with memories. The scent of blood and cheering crowd opened a door he had thought locked forever. He was only seventeen the first time he entered an arena, yet his training made victory a certainty. He was the more knowledgeable, the more skilled, and the crowds loved him. He defeated opponent after opponent with ease. Larger, stronger men challenged him and died. When he fought teams of two and three, the results were always the same. The crowds began to chant his new name, Galenti—killer.

He traveled throughout Calis meeting with royalty, eating at banquets held in his honor, and sleeping with women given in tribute. He entertained his hosts with displays of skill and prowess. Eventually the battles became macabre. Multiple strong men were not enough. They tested him on Ghazel and wild animals. He fought boars, a pair of leopards, and finally the tiger.

He had killed scores of men in the arena without a thought, but the tiger in Mandalin was the last. Perhaps the blood he spilled finally soaked in, or he had grown older and matured beyond his desire for fame. Even now, he was unw name, Ga what was the truth and what he merely wanted to believe. Regardless, everything changed when the tiger died.

Each man he fought had a choice, but not the cat. As he watched the regal beast die, for the first time he felt like a murderer. In the stands above, the crowd shouted Galenti! The meaning never sunk in until that moment. His father’s words reached him at last, but Danbury would die before Hadrian could apologize. Like the tiger, his father deserved better.

Now, as he entered the arena, the crowd once again shouted the name—Galenti! They cheered and stomped their feet like thunder. “Remember, Mister Wesley, stay back and guard Grady,” Hadrian said, as they gathered not far from where the skull hung.

The far gate opened, and into the arena came the Ba Ran Ghazel. Hadrian could tell from his friends shocked expressions that even after his description they never expected what now came toward them. Everyone had heard tall tales of hideous goblins but no one really expected to see one, much less five, scurrying in full battle regalia illuminated by the flickering red glow of giant torch fires.