A pair of Kuritai led Lieza to a new structure rising from the centre of the arena—three circular platforms of descending size placed one atop the other to form a dais, constructed of wood but painted to resemble marble. The Kuritai secured Lieza’s manacles to a sturdy wooden pole that arose from the topmost platform whilst those guarding Reva placed a long, broad-bladed spear and a short sword on the sand in front of her before removing her shackles and quickly trooping off to the nearest exit.
The trumpets faded, leaving a tense hush as the slender form of the Empress appeared from the shadowed recess of her balcony. “Honoured Citizens!” she called out, her voice absent the mockery evident before. Now it was rich in joyous celebration, a benevolent ruler greeting loyal subjects with a grand reward. “Not for a generation has this spectacle been gifted to the Volarian people. The Council was ever mean in its responsibilities, grubbing to fill their own pockets and begrudging you the smallest entertainments. Now behold your Empress’s generosity, rejoice as I give you the legend of Jarvek and Livella!”
She spread her arms wide and the crowd cheered, though it sounded to Reva like the hoarse baying of some tormented monster. The people in the lowest tier screamed themselves red in the face in their desire to display loyalty as an Arisai looked on, teeth bared in mocking laughter.
The Empress lowered her arms, heralding an instant silence. “Be it known to the ages,” she said in tones of grave recitation, “that the Dermos did conspire to steal away good queen Avielle to the darkest pit beneath the earth.” She assumed a theatrical pose as she pointed at Lieza standing shackled atop the dais. “And there they did chain her under threat of vile torment, knowing her loving sister would brave any danger to bring her into the light once more. All will acclaim Livella, bravest of the Guardians!” Her finger swept towards Reva, drawing another chorus of hoarse cheering from the crowd.
“But the Dermos were ever cunning in their evil,” the Empress continued when the tumult subsided. “For having tempted the mightiest of the Guardians into lust and treachery, they filled his heart with malice and spite, moulding him into their most vile and savage servant. Behold Jarvek!”
The door at the opposite end of the arena swung open with an audible boom, the crowd screaming on cue, then gradually falling silent as nothing happened. For a moment Reva suspected some trickery on the part of the Empress, a great prank to stoke her fears before revealing yet another novel cruelty. However, a glance at the balcony showed her to be staring at the empty arch with palpable annoyance.
Then the roar came.
It seemed to fill the arena from top to bottom, cutting through Reva like a blade, not with its fury, but its pain. The anguish she heard in this cry was searing, the torment it spoke of unimaginable.
Varulek had told her what manner of beast she faced this day, but mere words could not have captured the sight of it. When she and Vaelin had travelled with the minstrel’s players she had seen some monkeys, small mischievous creatures prone to hissing and scratching at fingers unwisely poked into their cage. Come the evening show, their owner would play a flute as they danced, or rather capered about with some vague relation to the tune. The idea that what she saw now could in any way be related to those chittering imps seemed absurd, making her wonder if Varulek’s garish legends might have some substance after all.
It entered the arena at the run, or rather gallop, moving on all fours and raising a sizeable cloud of dust. Its full size was revealed as the dust settled, and a spontaneous gasp rose from the terraces. Even though it was crouched, this monkey, or great southern ape as Varulek called it, stood close to eight feet tall. Its fur hung in shaggy tendrils from its arms and shoulders, brownish red in colour except on its densely muscled back where the fur was shorter and steely grey.
It roared again, a vast howl of pain and fury, baring teeth like blunted ivory nails. As it reared Reva saw the scars that covered its torso, deep and barely healed. It raised both hands and she saw a gleam of steel, noting the leather straps over its wrists.
“They are peaceable beasts, in truth,” Varulek had said. “Keeping to their forests and valleys, eating only leaves, shy of man and not without good reason. Finding one with sufficient innate aggression to play the desired role is difficult, but when they do . . . Well, after a suitably harsh training period, they always seem to know what’s expected of them, and the steel claws we give them.”
Reva saw the truth in his words as the ape’s gaze swept the arena, fixing first on Lieza and then her. There was a definite knowledge in its eyes, an all-too-recognisable understanding of its circumstances. It growled, scratched at the sand with its steel-augmented claws, and charged.