ROC—100 POINTS
The beetles were a nuisance. A distraction, but they were no bigger than his foot, and though their claws could pierce leather and flesh, they could be crushed, kicked, or stabbed with minimal effort. The serpents had a head at each end, which meant you had to cut off both heads in order to kill them. They were more dangerous than the beetles, but they constricted their prey, which meant he could survive a bite if he was distracted fighting another monster when a serpent attacked.
He’d heard of a garmr before, but he’d never seen one until Sajda had sneaked him into the stalls two mornings before while the warden had been out on business. Huge black doglike creatures with shaggy hair, red eyes, and foam around their muzzles were a danger he couldn’t ignore. There were five of them, and they attacked as a pack. It was crucial that he, Kali, and Intizara didn’t get separated.
Which was going to be easier said than done because the reiligarda were a horror he’d only read about in his mythology class during seventh year. He still didn’t know what the creatures looked like because they’d arrived in iron coffins filled with dirt taken from the graves they’d guarded on Llorenyae; and until they were disturbed, they would sleep. According to the stories, they looked like black skeletons with decaying strips of black grave clothes hanging off their bony frames.
The stories also said the reiligarda were relentless in their pursuit of those who wore the dirt of the grave that had been disturbed. The warden had of course ordered Sajda to smear grave dirt on each competitor in full view of the audience so that no one could claim someone else’s favorite got special treatment.
That left the most threatening of the day’s creatures: the roc. The enormous bird of prey was strong enough to carry an elephant in its talons. It would attack from above—there was already a huge net erected around the arena to keep the roc from going after the audience or from escaping. It was rolled up and tied off with ropes, but at the warden’s signal, the guards would pull the ropes and trap the roc with the prisoners. Javan felt sick at the thought of destroying such a fierce and noble creature for the sake of this bloodthirsty game. There was no honor in it. No honor in killing anything that was joining him in the arena today, but he didn’t have a choice. It was kill or be killed, and Javan desperately wanted to live long enough to save his father from the impostor. Long enough to save himself from Maqbara and take Sajda and Tarek with him.
“I’ll take care of the roc first,” Javan said to Kali and Intizara as the last of the crowd filed in, heading to either the betting table or their seats. “We can’t risk being attacked from above while we’re busy watching for Hashim’s crew or the ground monsters.”
And it would give him a badly needed one hundred points. It wouldn’t quite be enough to put him in range of victory. He’d have to kill quite a few other beasts, both this round and the next, but it would help.
Quickly he whispered a prayer to Yl’ Haliq to forgive him for the blood he was about to spill.
“I trust our weapons are in place?” Intizara asked softly as guards ordered the prisoners to move to the arena’s wall and Tarek left to help Sajda, Batula, and the guards move the monsters into place, ready for release through the same gate the competitors were about to go through.
“In a triangle. Western edge of the arena. You’re the fastest, Intizara. Get there first and claim all three if you have to. We’ll be right behind you,” Javan said.
The warden stepped to the edge of the platform and raised her arms. Heat boiled through Javan’s veins as he glared at her.
She’d tried to kill him twice now. He was certain that if he hadn’t made such an impression on the crowd during his first round of combat, if there hadn’t been rumors and speculation that might damage Fariq’s bid for power, she’d have killed Javan that very night. Instead, she’d had to look for ways to kill him that could be easily explained to the aristocrats who were desperately curious about the skilled fighter who looked like a royal. She’d aligned herself with the dishonorable impostor who was bent on stealing Akram for his own ends. And she’d hurt Sajda deeply.
She was going to die. Once he had the power of the throne behind him, he’d see to it personally.
Now she spoke, her gravelly voice filling the arena. “Welcome to the fourth round of this year’s tournament. Betting is now closed. We are down to twenty-three worthy competitors.”
She paused and the weight of her gaze landed on Javan and then slowly moved to Sajda. Javan’s mouth went dry at the vicious malice in her eyes. She knew her slave was helping her prey, and Sajda was about to pay for her choice.
He started moving toward Sajda, looking frantically for a weapon that hadn’t already been placed in the arena, as the warden said, “But today I have two surprises for you. A bonus treat, if you will. First of all, only the top three point earners in the competition will advance to the final round.”
Murmurs swept the audience at this unexpected change in the tournament’s rules, and a band of pressure wrapped around Javan’s chest. The warden was hedging her bets in case Hashim and friends failed to kill Javan. He was nowhere near the top three point earners. To stay in the competition, he’d have to rack up significant kills this round, or all this would have been for nothing. He’d spend the next round locked in his cell like the rest of the prisoners who weren’t competing, and his father would die as soon as he abdicated the throne to the impostor.
The warden continued, “Second, today we will have a new competitor for your enjoyment. Aren’t surprises fun?”
She was going to put Sajda in the arena. Javan’s heart slammed against his chest, and fear was a fire burning through his blood.
Sajda was powerful. Stronger and faster than anyone else entering the arena. The warden had to know that. Which meant she had a way to hurt Sajda and turn her into easy prey.
He reached Sajda’s side as Tarek was saying, “Don’t hold back, little one. Not this time. You fight with everything you’ve got. Let them see that you’re a warrior to rival any of the prisoners.”
Tarek didn’t know the truth, then. Javan met Sajda’s gaze and saw the tremors beneath the sheath of ice she was desperately trying to hide behind. If Sajda unleashed her true power in the arena, she might defeat the monsters, but she’d have revealed herself as something more than human to a crowd who believed, as he had once, that the only good elf was a dead elf.