professions were filled by the other races-the dark ones, the humans, the dwarves, and the halflings like Darnae.
Shadar-kai like Skagi, Cree, and Chanoch can nourish their pride on their military service, Ashok thought. What of Vedoran’s pride, no lesser a force and too long diminished by his rank as a Blite?
“You could leave,” Ashok said, “take your services to another enclave. You could go far.”
“I was born here,” Vedoran said. “It’s my city. It belongs to me as much as it belongs to Tempus.”
He looked at Ashok, and the burning was still there, but mingled with it was a curiosity that softened him and made him voice his next words with trepidation.
“I look at you,” Vedoran said, “and see the last place I should look to find hope. Yet I do. Perhaps with you, things will be different.”
They had reached the paddock. The wide field was empty, and Olra was nowhere in sight. Ashok knew she was preparing to bring the nightmare out. The only time they could force a lead on him was when he was in his cage, deep in the caverns, where his deathly screams wouldn’t touch the nearby buildings.
For in the Camborr compound the forge masters also worked, the Guardians who created all Ikemmu’s weapons for its warriors and its trade. There at least, was a craft the shadar-kai could engage in. They worked the dangerous fires, day and night, forging the tools of battle. Ashok had learned to recognize the black smoke that drifted up in a constant plume from the forges. Olra came out of the cavern first, leading the nightmare with his face chained and hooded. Beside her walked a contingent of guards with spears. She nodded at them to spread out along the fence.
“Are you prepared for this?” Vedoran asked, as Olra released the nightmare into the paddock. The beast immediately began to run in ever-widening circles, striking sparks off the rocky ground, stamping his black marks into the cave grass.
“Worried your great hope might get his brains dashed out under a flaming hoof?” Ashok asked in a light tone.
“Why is it so important to you that he be broken?” Vedoran asked. “I’d have thought … you of all the rest would want him to stay as he is.”
Ashok met Vedoran’s shrewd gaze. “Did I ever say I intended to break him?” he said.
“Then what are you planning?” Vedoran asked.
But Ashok just shook his head. “You’re right,” he said. “I do want him to stay the way he is. So I hope he and I can come to an understanding. Though I admit, he is the last place I should look to find hope.” Smiling crookedly, Ashok checked his armor and weapons, then pulled himself up and swung a leg over the iron fence. “If he tears me apart,” he called down, “you’ll know I was wrong.”
He landed in a crouch. The dry, scorched grass crackled under his boots. His heart rate had already picked up, but he worked to even his accelerated breathing. He fought to show his respect for the red-eyed menace bucking wildly across the paddock, so the beast would not misinterpret the relish in Ashok’s eyes.
Olra caught sight of Ashok standing on the wrong side of the fence. Her eyes widened in furious horror.
“That wasn’t our agreement, fool!” she shouted at him.
“Don’t stop him now, I beg you,” came Skagi’s voice. “The fun’s just beginning.”
Skagi, Chanoch, and Cree walked side by side toward the fence from the direction of the training yard. Vedoran joined them, and together they spread out and climbed the fence at various points, forming a protective perimeter around Ashok. The guards filled in around them.
The nightmare stilled when he saw Ashok inside the fence. Ashok watched his cunning eyes and saw them register that something was different. Somehow, the beast knew what was coming.
A quiver ran down the nightmare’s body as it regarded Ashok from a distance. He didn’t charge, as Ashok had expected him to do. Instead he regarded the shadar-kai calmly, pacing back and forth thirty feet in front of him. There was almost no fire burning up the beast’s mane, only the intermittent flashes of gold nested in the flowing black hair.
Ashok stood with his arms loose at his sides. Slowly, he removed the chain at his belt.
“What’d you do to your spikes?” Chanoch called out, and the nightmare froze, hissing a steamy breath that hung on the cold air like a phantom.
Ashok turned a brief, fierce glare on Chanoch, and the young one obediently fell quiet. He unwrapped the chain and let the spikes loop upon the ground. The sharp points he’d wrapped in a protective coating of leather- stiff, but not fire resistant-into an iron whip, except he had no intention of striking the beast unless it was absolutely necessary.
But the nightmare couldn’t know that. As soon as he saw Ashok loop the end of the chain across his knuckles, he backed off, rearing high in the air, his flaming fetlocks streaking yellow afterimages across Ashok’s vision.
Ashok slid a step forward, refusing to show any sign of intimidation.
The nightmare snorted a breath and charged, his scream echoing across the paddock and beyond, into the city.
Ashok dived to the side. He felt the wall of heat graze his body as the nightmare barreled past, but it was the scream that tore into his concentration and shredded all his carefully composed plans.
In the open space, the sound echoed off the canyon wall and came back magnified a dozen times. Skagi, Cree, Chanoch, and Vedoran all wavered on the fence, but they held, balancing with their legs and clamping their free hands over their ears until the sound became bearable.
Ashok didn’t have that luxury. As soon as the nightmare could, it skidded to a stop and turned its huge body, charging again. Ashok leaped to his feet and whipped the chain over his head in a wide arc. He brought the weapon down in front of his body to strike the ground, over and over, warning the nightmare off.
“My ground,” Ashok cried, and his voice was loud and disjointed in the wake of the awful scream. “Yield!”
But the nightmare kept coming, heedless of its own safety. It was going to run Ashok down.
Ashok knew it was a critical test. If he gave way, the nightmare would always be in control. No matter what he tried, the beast would know that in the end, Ashok would be the one to yield.
So Ashok swung the chain and forced himself to stand while the flaming death charged him, eating up the ground between them in mere breaths. The scream rang out again, and crimson eyes were all Ashok could see.
It happened so fast, Ashok hardly had time to register the outcome.
The nightmare changed its course a fraction and charged past him. Ashok felt the heat again, so close that his eyes watered. He felt the burn in his nostrils. But he was still standing. The nightmare charged past him and screamed in terrible fury.
The nightmare ended its failed challenge by ramming its head into the fence inches from where Cree perched. The shadar-kai was forced to jump down to safety, and Ashok caught the faint scent of singed hair where the nightmare’s flames had kissed him.
The beast’s mane was fully ablaze, with flames that glowed blue at the roots. The nightmare gave off a horrible scent of burning flesh, though Ashok knew he was unharmed by the fire that came from within. The stench of burning was for the benefit of its prey, a warning to any who would dare attack him.
“You won’t burn me,” Ashok said, “not when I’m on your back.”
“You won’t ride him without a saddle,” Olra hollered across the field. “Don’t even try it.”
“She’s right,” Cree said. “The wizards have a means: a saddle enchanted to protect you from the fire.”
“I’ll get it,” Olra said.
“No,” said Ashok, shaking his head. “It’s not fair to him. He should have his chance at me.”
Olra cursed, loudly enough for Ashok to hear across the field. “I knew this would happen,” she said. She motioned to one of her guards, who handed her a longbow and a full quiver. She perched on the fence and nocked an arrow, training it on the nightmare.
Ashok glared at her. “You won’t use that,” he said, “unless I give the word.”
“Careful,” Vedoran warned from Ashok’s other side.
Ashok set his chin stubbornly. “This is my fight,” he said.
“This is my ground, fledgling,” Olra said. She raised the bow. “You do as I tell you.”
