Its rider saw the chunk of flesh and stiffened, then bent over his mount’s neck, maybe trying to whisper to it, to control it. No luck. Keraal took two quick paces forward then flung the meat to one side of the beast.
The clawfoot whirled and lunged, snapping for the food. So did the next nearest clawfoot as both riders fought to control their mounts. In the moment of chaos, Keraal darted close. His chain snapped up and curled around the throat of the unfortunate halfling whose clawfoot had betrayed him. Keraal stepped back, heaving the struggling rider out of his saddle. The halfling hit the sand of the arena and an instant later, Keraal was on him, one arm around his neck, the opposite hand gripping his skull. The hobgoblin’s shoulders tensed and the halfling’s head twisted around on his shoulders, the snap of his breaking neck completely lost in the roar of the crowd.
The now-riderless clawfoot turned to stare at Keraal, who froze with the body of the halfling hunter still in his hands. The clawfoot lowered its head, taking a slow stride forward, and even from where she sat, Ekhaas could see a kind of feral intelligence and loyalty on its reptilian face. It knew its rider, knew he was dead, and knew that Keraal had killed him. Behind it, the remaining three riders spread out. Keraal let the corpse slip from his grasp and backed up slowly, swinging his chain.
It might have been his final act if the daggertail hadn’t at that moment staggered away from the arena wall, honking in pain and distress. It left a long smear of blood on the wall behind it, along with the broken body of its rider and the shattered shaft of the glaive-the head of which, Ekhaas guessed, must have broken off inside the wound, now even larger and uglier than before.
All four clawfoots turned to look at it. All of the surviving riders tried to rein in their mounts and control them just as the dead rider had tried to control his, but with no greater success. The distraction that Keraal had set up by wounding the daggertail was too strong. The halflings had left their clawfoots hungry before the battle. The sight and smell of the injured daggertail-natural prey for such predators-was too powerful.
The clawfoot that Keraal had initially brought down was the first to break. Twitching its head against the pull of the reins, it stalked out to confront the daggertail. The wounded lizard’s eyes fixed on it. The fearsome tail swung back and forth, but the clawfoot stayed well back. The other clawfoots moved in, forcing the daggertail to try and watch all of them. Ekhaas saw one of the lizards turn its head and fix its rider with an ugly stare. The halfling stiffened and whistled to the other halflings before he leaped to the ground to let his mount hunt. The other two hunters followed his example and the clawfoots, all riderless now, circled the daggertail.
The blue-streaked clawfoot looked once more at Keraal and threw back its head to let out a bone-chilling shriek. The daggertail swung toward the sound-and the other clawfoots pounced on it. The big spiked tail caught one in mid-air, bashing it to the ground with deep wounds in its flank, but the others were on it, trying to find a grip in its flesh with their claws and their teeth. The blue-streaked clawfoot shrieked again and leaped join in.
Keraal picked up a lost glaive, snapped the shaft over his knees to create a weapon that he could wield in one hand, and went after the three surviving halflings.
For a warrior who had defeated a tiger, a two-headed ettin, three Kech Shaarat bladedancers, and four Marguul berserkers armed only with the chains that had once bound him, they were no challenge. The clawfoots fought their own battle and the deaths of the hunters of the Talenta Plains were accompanied first by the screams of the daggertail and then by the sounds of the feasting clawfoots.
And by the roar of the cheering crowd, a roar that died away only when Keraal stood below the warlords’ box and let the head of the last halfling fall to the sand.
Tariic rose slowly and glared down. His face was dark and tight with anger, but somehow it didn’t reach his voice. “Keraal, who was warlord of the Gan’duur,” he called out-and if there was no anger in his voice, there was at least malice. “Who defied Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor. Who led his clan to defeat and watched it die. Who is now Keraal of nothing.” He paused, his ears trembling, before continuing. “You have fought in the arena and you have triumphed. By the tradition of the People, you have won your freedom.”
He gestured and one of the gates of the arena, the one farthest from the still feasting clawfoots, opened just a crack. Ekhaas was fairly certain that whoever stood on the other side was keeping a very close watch on the great beasts. Keraal, however, ignored both lizards and gate. He just looked up at Haruuc’s successor as Tariic pointed and said, “Go.”
“No,” said Keraal.
Except for the tearing and gulping of flesh, the silence in the arena was complete. “No?” asked Tariic, a hint of fury finally creeping into his voice.
“No,” Keraal repeated. He stood tall. “Where is Dagii of Mur Talaan?”
Partway along the box, just behind a wide-eyed Geth, Dagii rose and came forward. “I’m here.”
Keraal looked up at him. “You ride to war against the Valenar?”
“Yes.” Dagii glanced at Tariic, then back at the fallen warlord. “I leave Rhukaan Draal before twilight. I wait only for the blessing of the lhesh.”
Down on the blood-soaked sand, Keraal bowed his head, “You taught me the meaning of muut, Dagii of Mur Talaan. You defeated me in battle, but gave me respect. When my warriors were to be hung in trees, you bound them there yourself. When I would have died in shame, you forced me to fight and live.” He raised his chains in one hand and the broken glaive in the other. “If you will have me, I pledge myself to your service, to follow you and obey your commands. On blood and graves, I swear it.”
For a moment, Dagii just stared at him, then he drew his sword and held it high. “Keraal, I accept your service!”
The applause began with the thumping of a single fist against a single chest-and Ekhaas was surprised to see that it came from Senen Dhakaan. She was alone for only a moment, though. Up in the warlords’ box, Munta the Gray began to applaud. Then Garaad of Vaniish Kai. And Aguus of Traakuum. And Geth. And abruptly the applause was taken up all around the arena, no shouts, no cheers, only the beating of fists on chests so loud that even the clawfoots took notice and looked up from their grisly meal. Dagii lowered his sword and gave Keraal a curt nod. The warrior let his weapons fall and walked out of the arena with his ears held high.
Dagii turned to face Tariic, lifting his sword again, and the applause slowly died. “Lhesh,” said Dagii, “I go to meet the enemies of Darguun at your command.”
Some of the rage at Keraal’s defiance faded from Tariic’s face. He drew his sword as well and touched the blade to Dagii’s. “Swift travel and great glory, Dagii of Mur Talaan. Show the Valaes Tairn that Darguun fears no invader!”
They let their swords fall, the blades sliding against each other with the slow ring of metal on metal, then Dagii bent his head and turned away without looking back. Tariic turned to face the arena and thrust his sword into the air. “The games are over! Lhesh Haruuc is remembered with honor and Darguun is strong!”
The cheer that rose in the arena was the loudest one yet, so loud it seemed to shake the stands. Tariic simply stood and soaked it all in. The clawfoots hunched and stared around in fear.
Ekhaas turned at looked at Ashi. “That’s my sign too,” she said over the noise. “Dagii will be waiting for me. Great glory, Ashi.”
The human woman’s mouth tightened for a moment, then she spread her arms and threw them around her. Ekhaas stiffened, shame at the public embrace spreading through her, then she relaxed and returned it-very briefly. “Warriors in victory are permitted such displays,” she said in Ashi’s ear.
“I feel like we’ve won a victory,” Ashi answered. “Two days to the coronation. Come back as soon as you can.”
She released her and Ekhaas turned to Senen. The ambassador nodded to her. “Swift travel and great glory, Ekhaas duur’kala. Craft your tale carefully-I have a feeling it will be one for the ages.”
Ekhaas returned her nod and, like Dagii, walked to the exit from the stands without looking back.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
25 Sypheros
The next visitor Geth had to his chamber didn’t arrive with the same stealth as Chetiin. There was a knock at the door and Ashi entered. Midian slipped in after her and Geth caught a glimpse of Aruget speaking with the guards before the gnome closed the door again. Both wore tense expressions. Geth was certain Ashi’s was
