rest of the colors, but she couldn't recall any of it. The anxiety pulsated through her with every heart beat.
Ahead a seemingly empty stretch of a suburban street rolled into the sunset. The round, red sun hung low above the horizon, a glowing brand upon the clouds.
Familiar magic brushed her and a heavy hand touched her shoulder gently. Nassar. He wore grey pants tucked into military boots. A long-sleeved shirt hugged his arms and over it he wore a leather vest that wanted very much to be called armor. She wore the same outfit. The leather fitted her loosely enough not to be constricting, but tight enough not to get in the way.
'Don't worry,' Nassar said.
Her gaze slid to the large axe strapped to his waist. She touched her own blade, a long narrow combat knife. Gerald had taught her the basics of knife-fighting a long time ago but she'd never been in a real fight.
A male voice rose to the side. 'Can he bring a servant into the game?'
It took a moment to sink in. Of course, her status would be public knowledge among them, but it still cut her like a knife. She turned. A group of people stood on the side. Five of them wore dark blue robes. The arbitrators, she remembered from Nassar's explanations. An older female in the arbitrator robe regarded her with serious grey eyes.
'If you want to withdraw, you may do so now,' the woman said.
She could withdraw. She could simply refuse to go in. If she did, Nassar would be doomed. He had already committed to the game and she knew he couldn't simply substitute someone else in his place. He wouldn't.
Overnight, her fears had grown into near panic. Now she could walk away from them.
Grace looked at the gathering of the clansmen. Her family used to be a clan. Her people should have stood right here. Instead the clansmen viewed her as a servant. Pride spiked in her. She had as much right to be here as anybody else. The vague feeling of unease that had eaten at her ever since Nassar had transformed into a bird crystallized and she finally understood it: it was envy. Envy of the magic used freely. Envy of knowledge. Circumstances had jettisoned her out of this world, but she refused to stay locked out.
Grace drew herself to her full height. 'Why in the world would I want to withdraw?'
A red-haired man in Roar's green shook his head. 'She can't refuse. She isn't even properly trained. She's a servant.'
'Not anymore,' Nassar said softly behind her.
The gathering suddenly grew quiet.
The arbitrator surveyed them for a long moment. 'Nassar, am I to understand that you've released Clan Mailliard from their service?'
'Yes,' he answered.
The arbitrator looked at her. 'You're here of your own free will?'
'Yes,' Grace said.
The arbitrator glanced at Roar clansman. 'There is your answer. Let the record reflect that Clan Mailliard chose to assist Clan Dreoch. You have our leave to proceed.'
They passed her. Grace let out her breath.
'Thank you,' Nassar murmured.
'You're welcome.'
Two young men in Roar's green came to stand at the other end of the street. Both were lean, strong, hard, as if twisted from leather and twine. Both had long hair bound into horse tails: one red, one black.
Nassar leaned to her. 'Conn and Sylvester Roar. Powerful, but they lack experience.'
The arbitrators passed between them, blocking her vision. As the blue robes fluttered by, Grace saw Conn Roar turn to her. He grinned, his eyes alight with feral fire, and snapped his teeth.
Alarm dashed down her spine in a rush of cold. She raised her eyebrows. 'Someone forgot his muzzle.'
'See the pendant around Conn's neck?'
Grace glanced at a small black stone hanging on a long chain.
'That's a summoning stone. They'll use its power to manifest creatures.'
Marrow worms. They'd use it to summon the marrow worms. Nassar had warned her that the Roars would try to kill them. Him, specifically. The game as only the opening salvo to the hostilities between the two clans, and Roars wanted to land the first blow by taking out Dreoch's best magic user.
The arbitrators raised their hands. A controlled surge of magic washed over the street. The reality drained down, as if it were a reflection in a melting mirror. A new street opened before them. Green and red lianas hung from the dark, sinister houses. Kudzu vines climbed in and out of windows. To the left a huge clump of yellow foam dripped rancid red juice onto the street. A puddle of brown slime slivered across the asphalt like an amoeba and slipped into the storm drain under the light of street lamps. Ahead something furry dashed across the intersection: a long, shaggy body with too many legs.
Somewhere in that zone a flag waited. Whoever touched the flag would be instantly transported out. They just had to survive long enough to reach it.
The woman arbitrator raised her hand, fist closed. Next to Grace, Nassar tensed.
'Let the game begin!' A white light pulsed from the arbitrator's fingers. The crowd erupted in a ragged cheer.
The two Roar clansmen screamed in unison. Flesh bulged under their skin. Their bodies contorted, their limbs thickened. Black fur sheathed their skin. Horns burst through their manes. Their eyes drowned in golden glow and an extra pair opened beside the first set. As one they raised monstrous faces up, the sharp fangs in their jaws silhouetted against the red sky. Eerie howls tore free from their throats, blending into a haunting song of hunt and murder.
The Roars dashed into the zone on all fours. Nassar watched them go, his face calm. Leaping and growling, they turned the corner and vanished behind the abandoned houses. The echoes of their snarls died. Nassar took his axe from its sheath, rested it on his shoulder, and strode into the zone, unhurried. Grace swallowed and followed in his footsteps.
The street lay quiet. They would be watched by magical means while in the zone, but for now the press of many stares bore directly into her back. Her nerves knotted into a clump.
They've reached the intersection.
A hint of movement on the roof of a two-storey house made her turn. Grace frowned.
A flat, wide shape leaped off the roof, aiming at her. She caught a glimpse of a fang-studded mouth among bulging veins. Too stunned to move, she simply stared.
Nassar's huge back blocked the mouth. A hot whip of magic sprung from his hand, cleaving the creature in two. Twin halves of the beast fell to the ground, spilling steaming guts onto the asphalt.
'You're allowed to dodge,' Nassar said.
The enormous blue beast bore on them. Grace watched it come. It thundered down the street, its six stumpy legs mashing pot holes in the crumbling pavement.
In the past seven hours, she'd used her magic for defense countless times. Blood splattered her face, some dried to flecks, some still wet. Her side burned where a red furry serpent had bit her before Nassar chopped off both of its heads. A long rip split her left pant leg, exposing puckered flesh of the calf where a liana stung her with its suckers. It never ended. There was always a new horror waiting to pounce on them from some dark crevice. Grace clenched her teeth and watched the beast charge.
It brushed against a house, sending a shower of broken boards in the air, and kept coming, cavernous mouth gaping wide, the sound of its stomping like a canon blast salute at a funeral. Boom-boom-boom.
Boom-boom-boom.
The beast was almost on her. Two bloodshot eyes glared. The black mouth opened, ready to devour her.
'Now!' Nassar barked.
She slammed her magic into it.
With a surprised roar, the beast rammed the invisible barrier. Her feet slid back from the pressure. The beast's momentum pitched it to the side. The mammoth body fell, paws in the air. Nassar leaped over it, a feral shadow caught in the moonlight. White light sliced like a huge blade from his hand and Nassar landed by her. Filthy
