“No,” Seth said, mostly meaning it.
“It’s usually some crazed fan trying to help one of their heroes,” Virgil said. “Occasionally somebody thinks they see a favorable situation, like two badly wounded competitors. Attempts to take advantage of injured gladiators usually earn boos, but some people are cutthroat. Those who join the fight spontaneously almost always perish.”
The six competitors had been introduced and were squaring up against each other, three on each side. One human had a war hammer, another a battle-ax. The minotaur swung a flail above his head, the hobgoblin brandished a spear, and the two dwarfs wielded swords. All wore various pieces of armor, and all showed some skin (or fur).
“These guys are all newbies?” Seth asked.
“At maximum, three will survive,” Virgil said. “At minimum, one.”
A horn blew, and the melee commenced. The minotaur barreled toward one of the dwarfs, swiping with his flail. The dwarf tried to repel the attack with his shield, but the minotaur swung so hard, the short defender was blasted to the ground, shield dented. He scuttled away, losing his sword, as the minotaur pounded at him relentlessly. As the embattled dwarf struggled to his feet, turning to run for a wall, the minotaur got a clear shot at the back of his head.
At the moment of impact from the flail, the dwarf vanished in a flash.
“Where did he go?” Seth asked.
“That’s what losing looks like,” Virgil said.
“Wait, is he dead?” Seth asked.
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
The battle raged on. The minotaur teamed with the axman against the hobgoblin, who retreated until he got cornered against the wall and finally vanished in a flash. The human with the war hammer was evenly matched against a dwarf with a sword, but when the minotaur and the axman closed in, the dwarf got reckless, and the gladiator with the war hammer delivered a blow that made him disappear.
The three surviving teammates raised their fists, accepting the adulation of the crowd. The announcer offered congratulations, and the combatants made their way off the arena floor to ongoing cheers.
“But where are the losers?” Seth asked. “Dead?”
“There is no definitive answer,” Virgil said. “We can theorize later. I’d love your guesses.”
Masked clowns swarmed onto the arena floor and engaged in physical comedy that Seth felt ran a little too long. After their act, a brawny, armored, full-sized giant strode into the arena, leading a two-headed dragon.
“Giants and dwarfs,” the troll announced from his platform, “centaurs and minotaurs, connoisseurs and dilettantes, some of you have seen the dragon Scipio in combat, but never matched against a single foe. In his fortieth contest, Gurnan must pierce one eye of the dragon to secure victory. As always, should Gurnan slay the dragon, it will count as three victories.”
“Can the dragon win the Wizenstone?” Seth asked.
“Animals and magical beasts compete only for their freedom,” Virgil said. “Thirty-three wins and they go free.”
Gurnan sauntered into the ring, fully ten feet tall, and also broad and muscular. Seth wondered how big he would be at his true stature. Gurnan wore a long leather duster, with armor over his chest, and a spiked helm upon his head. He carried a longbow in one hand and a lance in the other, a quiver of arrows slung over one shoulder.
“The dragon is gagged so she can’t use her breath weapons,” Virgil said. “Gurnan has done really well so far, but this will be a tough contest.”
A horn sounded, and the armored giant released the dragon’s chains and left the arena floor. Both dragon heads roared, and Seth felt his seat vibrating. Gurnan nocked an arrow, briefly aimed, and fired. One of the dragon heads whipped sideways, and the arrow pinged off its snout.
As Gurnan pulled another arrow, the dragon rushed him. The arrow sailed past the dragon heads and flashed against an invisible barrier that prevented the errant shot from sailing into the crowd. Dropping his bow, Gurnan gripped his lance in both hands and began fending off the heads that lashed at him, teeth glinting. Gurnan dodged and stabbed, coming close to the eyes several times.
“I can’t look,” Virgil said, partially covering his eyes with one hand.
The dragon swiped down at the lance, pinning it to the ground with lethal claws. Gurnan sprang away from a ferocious bite and produced a sword from beneath his jacket. He jumped over a swipe from the tail of the dragon, but the return swing clipped his legs and knocked him to the dirt.
Both heads of Scipio plunged forward, gripping Gurnan between them. The warrior vanished in a flash as the heads pulled apart.
The crowd roared. Seth noticed the Giant Queen rise from her seat and depart. The armored giant returned to the arena floor, and the dragon submitted to a pair of restraining nooses at the ends of poles.
“Feeling eager to join the Games?” Virgil asked.
“The challenges get harder than this?” Seth asked.
“Some are unbelievable,” Virgil said. “It is no coincidence that nobody has won a hundred rounds.”
While the dragon was being escorted out, a group of acrobats tumbled onto the arena floor and began to perform. They set up a big seesaw and used it to launch one another high into the air.
Seth thought back to his earliest memories at Stormguard Castle, entering the same chamber as the Wizenstone. How many challenges had he overcome to reach that moment? Was it the equivalent of a hundred gladiator battles?
“I intend to explore all of my options before I commit to these fights,” Seth said.
I would speak with the girl,” Madam Ladonna said, her voice coming from well above the overturned bucket that entrapped them.
“We have two girls,” Warren called.
“Not so,” Madam Ladonna replied. “You have a woman and a girl. I would speak with the girl.”
“What do you want to know?” Kendra cried out.
“You need not yell,” Madam Ladonna said. “Giants have excellent hearing. I am no exception.”
“How can I help you?” Kendra asked without shouting.
“Better volume,” Madam Ladonna approved. “The rest of you, move
