She sat down next to Redden, close enough that he could see she no longer looked either haggard or beaten. If anything, she looked better than he had ever seen her.
“I know. I don’t look the same, do I?” She leaned close. “This morning they gave me something to drink that they said would make me stronger. I was weak from fear and lack of sleep and saw no reason to refuse it. How much worse could things be for me, even if I were being poisoned? But they were telling the truth; it was an elixir meant to strengthen my body and sharpen my instincts. I could feel it working on me right away. All of my despair and weariness disappeared. I felt better immediately.”
Redden shook his head. “Why would they do that for you?”
“Because the Straken Lord wants this to be a fight, not an execution. His pride and his manhood demand it. This is supposed to be a battle, so he must have an opponent who will provide a sufficient challenge. Make no mistake about this. I am to be killed—but not too easily. I am to provide entertainment and a few thrills first.”
“They’ve given you enough weapons for it.”
She glanced down at her assortment of blades and smiled. “After giving me the elixir, they took me to an armory and let me choose what I wanted. I took this armor and the blades and throwing weapons. They will provide me with a lance or spear of some sort once we arrive at the arena.”
She paused. “They said they will remove the conjure collar, as well.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “They will?”
“So they say. A mistake, I think, if they do so. But this is part of the spectacle. If I can be rendered immobile with a gesture, there is no point in the fight. If I can be subdued at any point, there is no suspense or even purpose to the battle. What this is meant to be is a demonstration of the Straken Lord’s power. He keeps his creatures in thrall by never allowing them to think for even a moment that he isn’t the equal of them all. Fear binds them to him. But fear must be instilled anew on a regular basis. I am to be the next best example of what could happen should they transgress.”
“But you believe your magic will give you the edge you need?”
“I think it might.”
She looked so confident and ready in that moment that Redden’s spirits were lifted. “Then we might escape this, after all.”
“We might. He may have overreached himself by giving me this opportunity. He thinks women are weak—all but Grianne Ohmsford, whom he worships. I learned this from the creature Tarwick. Tael Riverine has never forgotten her, his Straken Witch—the only female sufficiently strong enough to bear his children and extend his line. He is fixated on having this happen. He plans to dispose of me and then send you back to tell everyone what happened and what to expect. He assembles his army to march into the Four Lands and will do so as soon as the last of the Forbidding falls.”
A whip cracked and the rolling cage jolted forward, departing the courtyard. The crowd trailed after it, throngs of creatures and animals pressing close, pushing and shoving to gain a better position. Goblins, kobolds, Gormies, Harpies, and others Redden could not put names to. The demon-wolves roamed among them, growling and snapping at one another and anyone who got close. Every so often they would converge on an unfortunate creature that had caught their attention and drag it down, thrashing and screaming. None of the other creatures paid any heed to this. Those who were close just moved out of the way, avoiding the carnage and doing their best not to draw attention to themselves. The rest didn’t bother doing that much.