"Servant of Empire" - Ch 24

A while later, we re-convened in the dining room, which had been cleared while we had put our things on. Zur Nav was still not to be seen.

“What now?” Nix asked.

“We wait,” Sered said. “Our host is still preparing.”

Cannon laid his head on the table and within moments was snoring.

“Well, that’s one way to pass the time,” I said.

“What are we going to do here?” Nix asked.

“Well, it seems Zur Nav must issue his challenge publicly and in person, so I think we’re going to be bodyguards or decorative,” Sered said.

I nodded my agreement.

A while passed, and I grabbed a few bites from the sideboard.

“Friends, are you ready?” The voice of the giant came from the hallway. It had a different timbre, more resonant.

Cannon’s head shot up. “Time to fight?”

Nix grinned. “Time to crow, too, maybe.”

Rendo looked at her quizzically. She waved it away.

We walked out into the hallway, which was well-lit with torches burning steadily. At one end was Zur Nav.

The Fomor may not be a pretty bunch, but by the Gates, they can dress.

He had a robe of metals and jewels, draped in a riot of sheens and sparkles. Upon his head was what could be described as a boxy-looking helmet, part crown and part cover, with a silk trailer that joined with his robes behind him. Hanging from it were various baubles, sparkling in the torchlight. It almost seemed as though his outfit had a slight glow of its own. His missing eye was covered with a silver-and-gold patch that was designed in a vortex pattern, glittering with gemstones that had an impressionistic outline of an eye.

He had two attendants, roughly human sized. I could see they were G’torrian after I looked more closely. Each was carrying a tray piled high with disorganized jumbles of paper, or perhaps leaves. They were connected to Zur Nav by a thin, sparkling chain of silver.

His hands had rings on every finger, and he had a staff in one hand which was inlaid with silver, capped at both ends with steel. Was it a bone? Hard to say in the light we had.

He brushed some of the dangling ornaments from before his face, and held them aside to look down at us. “I am prepared, friends. Let us go make our destiny.”

“Not so sure I like the way he said that,” said Nix.

I nodded, and looked up at Zur Nav. “So…where are we going?”

“Follow me,” said the giant. “We are going to the central square to make an announcement.” He let the ornaments fall back into place and snapped his fingers. Naetel appeared between the two attendants behind him, picked up the ends of his robe in a makeshift train, and we all walked to the door.

The gate opened, slowly, and we walked out into the dark street. I could hear the distant sounds of the city, and the musky, dusty smell of the roads crept into my nose.

Instead of side alleys and hiding, though, this time around we took a main street and with a considerably lower measure of stealth. Two more of Zur Nav’s attendants had joined us and were preceding, one banging rhythmically on a wide skin drum, the other waving a large cymbal which it tapped in harmony.

We walked with stately grace, the Wayfarers arrayed around Zur Nav, who paraded like a peacock, nose high in the air and eyes half-lidded. The two tray-bearing members of the train were tossing their little papers on the street as we went. I picked one up and saw it bore the phrase “Zur Nav – Combat Majeur” in Common.

And yes, I am aware of just how gaudily Zur Nav was dressed. But we are his friends, and this was pretty much his victory lap, showing off to his city that he hadn’t just been summarily killed in the wilds of the darkness.

Within minutes of setting forth, I caught sight of two Shadrim up a ways on the main street. One noticed us and held a hand out to stop the other, pointing at us. They exchanged words, and one of them ran off. I nudged Rendo and he took note of the pair as well.

“Looks like we’ll have company soon,” I said.

He nodded with a grim look on his face. I saw him fiddling with his bow, checking that it was ready.

Our procession went along for another fifteen minutes or so, and I recognized down one street the door of the small trader who had exchanged goods with me. Marching up that street I saw two full squads of mixed human and Shadrim infantry form up behind us, and before long another three appeared ahead of us. Every last one of them had a uniform harness on, bearing the Shal Rava insignia. A Shadrim woman led the force ahead of us, and she gestured to us with her drawn weapon.

One of the squads readied bows, nocked and drew down on us. The other two drew swords – straight-edged modern weapons, not proper Voruscan-style blades – and began spreading out to encircle us.

The woman called out, “Archers ready!”

The men and women of all species on the street simply evaporated. Into doors, windows, whatever place they could vanish into, they disappeared.

I drew my own weapon, Sybarron left its purple after-image trailing around my waist as it emerged from its sheath. The others also had their weapons out, and Rendo was positioning behind cover.

“Take aim!” The woman was a captain, I could see her rank insignia now.

I muttered a few quick words of enchantment to disturb the air around me, to at least take the aim off of archers zeroing me.

“STOP!” A shrieking voice exclaimed from well down the street. Its volume was amazing, given its distance.

Bustling down the street, another giant rapidly waddled towards us. This enormous woman was dressed similarly to Zur Nav, and had her robe bundled up into one fist. The other held a large, fat leg of meat on the bone which she took a great bite out of as she approached us. Her rolls of flesh beneath the robe jostled uncomfortably as she jogged to meet us. Her face was a travesty of pox, several pustules had burst and were drooling purplish fluid down her right cheek. Attendants scuttled after her, desperately beating drums of their own, and she was dragging a third who had been attempting to hold up her trains.

“STOP!” She screamed again. “Stand down!” She waved at the mercenaries to get them to back away. The captain barked out a quick order, and the entire platoon sheathed their weapons and returned to formation.

Zur Nav straightened his back. “It is good to see you still remember proper form, sister.”

Flay Gaz whipped her face to him. “I would not abdicate my throne on a simple mistake by moronic outsiders,” she said. “How are you still alive?”

Zur Nav’s face screwed up in a smiling rictus, and his voice elevated two octaves. “Your mistakes are more numerous than you assume, dearie. My life is my own and how I keep it is my own business.”

“How dare you even return here? Do you have any idea how quickly I had to dress when I heard you emerged in robes of State? You impertinent cock!”

He paused for a moment, and drew a huge breath. An arm extended, and its enormous finger pointed at the giant woman.

“FLAY GAZ!” He bellowed with a voice like a screaming water buffalo. The next came out in a steady rhythm, his assistants with the instruments keeping time with him. “I invoke Combat Majeur! Our father’s throne belongs to me, and you have given me great offense! Submit to me now, you weasely, traitorous, troll-whore BITCH of a sister, Flay!!” I was pretty sure the word bitch broke some glass somewhere in the city.

I realized he was using an accented form of the Common tongue, apparently for the benefit of the non-native residents of the city. As he recited this, he smiled - apparently he'd rehearsed the phrase for quite some time mentally, and felt a sense of true accomplishment at getting it out whole - his finger went to point at the fat Fomorian woman, shaking with intensity.

She drew up as if struck physically. Her jaw hung open, and her skin beneath the caked-on makeup began to lose color.

"These here are my champions, you stinking troll-slut! They will mince yours to sausage, which I will eat and then I will shit them out between your filthy, fat, stripped tits in this very square! HEAR ME, IHNBHARAN, I AM ZUR NAV!!" His face had gone rather pink at this point, spittle flinging out randomly, and I was genuinely afraid he was about to suffer a stroke before our very eyes. His raised and outstretched arms rotated slowly as he turned a full three-sixty, facing all the city. His train-handlers raced around him, trying to keep his train arranged.

“I demand your answer, you insufferable dripping yeasty CUNT!” He ejected the final word like something venomous on his tongue, drops of spittle spraying from his lips, and somehow making it sound like two syllables. He made tearing motions with his hands while stomping about. “I will own everything that belongs to you! I will rip that robe from you and YOU WILL BEG TO LICK MY ASS!”

I glanced over at Rendo with my eyebrows about to climb onto my horns. He was struggling not to break out laughing. I shook my head and turned back to face this spectacle playing out. Sered was coldly looking on with a frown, and Nix was staring fixedly. Cannon was pumping the air in front of him with a fist, his falchion in the other hand.

Zur Nav’s face deepened in color as he screamed the words, stamping about in the street and banging the ground with his staff to emphasize his words. The two instrument bearers did an admirable job timing their playing to synchronize with his footsteps. Zur Nav was so incensed, I think I actually saw a tear well up in his one eye.

“Combat Majeur, you bitch!”

Her own color had drained away with each syllable. She stood up straight.

Her voice was quiet and calm, now. “Combat Majeur it shall be, Zur Nav. Your skull will adorn my gates, as a warning to future generations, and I will eat first your heart, and then your liver. I will feed your ass-cheeks to my fungus garden. Tomorrow morning.”

She drew her robe close and tight, but I could see the leg of meat she still held was trembling.

Glad I’m not the only one who gets the shakes.

“MAGISTRATE!” Zur Nav shouted. One of the bats flying above – all of whom had approached and begun circling above us – dipped down and alighted on the side of a building just above us, sending a grey-bellied crow fluttering off. I wondered for a moment at how such a bird got down here into this city, then returned my gaze to the bat rider. The bat’s claws gripped the building confidently, and the goblin looked at us while licking its lips furiously. Strapped into its saddle, it pulled the reins viciously while craning its neck around to see us all clearly.

“Your highness!” The goblin shouted.

“MAGISTRATE!” Zur Nav shouted again. This time, his voice carried far, I felt some form of magical amplification was used. I guess he didn’t notice the goblin was already present.

“I am here, your highness,” the rider shouted his response, raspy voice like grey stone smacking upon brick.

“Combat Majeur is invoked! Ready the Stadium for the morning! I demand Flay Gaz pay for her insulting treatment of me, and answer my challenge at the throne of our father!”

The goblin first looked startled, then alarmed, and now grim. “I hear your order, your highness. Lady Flay, is this…?”

She didn’t even look at him. She threw the meaty leg to the ground, where it landed with a fierce splat. “ACCEPTED!” She screamed, and I could almost hear the windows beside us rattling in their frames.

She never looked away from Zur Nav, hatred dripping from her voice, from her gaze. “You are done, brother. I will skin you alive and make a rug of you to warm my feet before my hearth.”

Zur Nav smiled. His voice took on a slight lilting accent as he said, “The only warmth you will feel is when I render your oversized corpse for its tallow so that I might read our father’s books by the light of your burning fat, you insufferable, disease-ridden anal sore! You shit the bed when you cast me out, and I’ll be paying you back in the morning. The first thing you will pay for will be my eye.” He emphasized the last by tapping on the metal shield which covered the empty socket.

The goblin magistrate flew off.

Zur Nav looked over to one of his trailing servants. Very seriously, he pointed at it, and said: “You. Follow her. MAGISTRATE!” He was back to shouting again. The servant handed its tray to Naetel and detached the chain on its neck, then hurried after Flay Gaz.

Another of the bat riders fluttered down, hovering above us.

“I charge you to follow her and see no harm comes to my observer,” he said. The goblin rider nodded and flew off, trailing the small convoy.

Flay Gaz shooed her mercenaries away and gathered her other attendants, and marched back down the street the way she’d come. She looked back once, casting her gaze disapprovingly across the rest of us, then caught sight of her tail. She grabbed one of her own servants by the neck, said something I couldn’t hear, and half-threw it in our direction.

The Gtorrian stumbled and then hurried towards us. How it was able to navigate to us without a guide or a stick, I still don’t know. Before long, I noticed a bat-riding magistrate trailing us.

Zur Nav gently took the drum from his instrument players, and pointed to a building a few doors down. “Fetch us all drinks, now.”

The creature scuttled off towards the building. Zur Nav turned back to us, handing me the drum. “That went swimmingly, my friends! Absolutely glorious!”

The servant returned shortly with three large pitchers of wine, and was trailed by several others from the building who carried ceramic mugs and cups. “Drink up! We should celebrate!”

“Fucking A!” Cannon shouted.

“Shouldn’t we be getting back to shelter?” Sered asked calmly.

“No, no, we’re fine,” Zur Nav said. “We are prohibited from taking action against one another until after the tournament is resolved. None at all. If I even accidentally fall over and break my finger, she suffers a defeat and I win.”

“Why don’t you, then?” I asked. “If you can win that easily, why not do so?”

He looked down at me quizzically. “Because that would be silly! Why would anyone do that?”

“To win?” I said. “Wouldn’t that win?”

“Oh, no,” he replied. “It just wouldn’t be proper.”

He pointed to Flay Gaz’ servant, who had stationed itself on the far side of the street from us, and waved vaguely at the sky. “That’s why they’re watching us, to protect me, make sure I don’t injure myself. We’re saving each other for after the contest.”

“And that’s why you sent yours to watch her, isn’t it?” Nix asked.

Zur Nav laid a finger against his nose. “Precisely, my lad.”

Cannon whooped once, wiping wine off his lips on his sleeve. “Then let’s go party, right away!”

Nix held a hand to his chest. She turned her face to Zur Nav. “Not so fast. We’re fighting in the morning, aren’t we?”

“Indeed!” He squealed, clapping his hands together. The rings clicked on one another loudly.

The flat hand on Cannon’s chest became a single finger drilling uncomfortably into him. “You aren’t fighting hung over, my friend,” she said.

Cannon froze for a moment, then a slow smile spread on his face. He remained motionless while his eyes tracked from one of us to the other.

“Did you guys hear that? We’re friends now! I’m in, baby!” The last sentence was punctuated with a fist pump into the air.

Althea shook her head. “If you show up and can’t fight, I’ll take your head myself.”

“You can have my head right now, babe, just between friends,” he grabbed his crotch and fondled it slowly.

“You are just the most disgusting shit-stain,” she said, and walked towards the bar where the G’torrian had retrieved the wine.

“Yeah, bitches, I’m a shit-stain, she wants me. You know she does.” He sauntered after her.

Zur Nav had been watching this with something like amusement. “They have the right destination, let’s go find seats and celebrate properly.”

“I don’t understand why we’re celebrating,” I said. “We are fifty-fifty here. That’s way too close to being dead than I ever like to be.”

He bent down to one knee beside me, and pulled me in with one of his great hands. His smile was radiant. “Three days ago I was an inch from death at the hands of a mad gnome. Today I am a flip of a coin from the throne of my people. The momentum is mine, and it is all thanks to you and your friends. I will not forget that.”

I couldn’t resist smiling myself. “When you put it that way, I see much more clearly. But momentum, I’m not sure I want to rely on something so ephemeral.”

“Wait and see,” he said. “The best is yet to come.”

He straightened up. “Now is the time when we DRINK!”

And did we ever.

***

I woke to find Naetel shaking me. Before I could stop myself I had grabbed him by the arm and had my knife against his belly. I stopped myself and turned the blade in time, stifling a shout. It hadn’t been that long since I fought them at war, I still reflexively saw them as the enemy.

“Time to wake, sir.” It stood when it sensed I was moving on my own. It paid no attention to the knife, and didn’t seem to notice my rough handling. “You are due at the Stadium in two hours.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“For what, sir?”

“For almost killing you,” I replied.

It paused, holding somewhat still. “That is always a possibility, sir.”

“My killing you?”

“Dying, sir. Everyone does it,” it added with a little bow. “Perhaps even you shall today, though I hope otherwise.”

“I’m not sure how to take that,” I said.

“I mean no offense, sir. My kind are given to philosophy.”

I smiled. “What do you know of history?”

“Enough,” it said. “Are you referring to the conflict between our kinds? We maintain our traditions, and one cannot philosophize effectively without some level of history. Otherwise it would simply be meandering in the breeze.”

“I was referring to that, yes.”

“That was millennia ago, sir. You and I are not opponents in war.”

“Of course. Please tell me, how are these combats resolved?”

“You mean the Combat Majeur today?”

“Yes.”

“Apparenty it is quite the spectacle. Obviously, I have never seen one,” it drew a hand across its face, palm outwards. “Best to inquire of someone with sight, sir. Now, if you have no objections I will awaken the rest.”

“Of course, I would not want to get between you and your duties,” I nodded.

“Thank you. A pleasure, sir.” It vanished from my room.

We all gathered haphazardly in the central area between our rooms. I could feel the anxiety in my gut building. Before any battle during the war, I always had this feeling. I think anyone who doesn’t get a little nervous before drawing a weapon must be a little off.

Which probably meant that Cannon was out of his mind.

After taking care of basic hygiene, I poured a little water and wine to calm my nerves, and took myself out into the main room, strapping on my armor.

As always – it seemed – food was laid out on the table. Various fruits, some kind of preserved ham, and a couple of pitchers of boiled water and coffee were present. The others were trickling into the room slowly, and we were all making the same assumption. Everyone was geared up for a fight.

Cannon was sitting at the table, casually chewing on a meat-crusted bone. He chased it with a mug of something that steamed. He saw me and nodded at me. “Good morning to you, demonspawn. Ready to get cracking?” He grinned, and I noticed his beard had been trimmed expertly to show more of his face than I’d seen before. Three gold rings had been braided into it beneath his chin, and beneath them grey threads extended through its hair.

He saw my gaze, and stroked it lovingly. “Yes, tradition calls that when we know a battle is coming, we prepare for it! Can’t fight looking like a common peasant!”

I smiled thinly. “I wish I had your stomach for fighting,” I said.

Sered cocked his head from where he stood. “I thought you were a decorated officer?”

I nodded. “I am. I was. Just because I’m good at it doesn’t mean I like it.”

Nix remained expressionless. “Your kind was known for having great enthusiasm in battle,” she said. “You surprise me.”

“Are we really going to do this now?” I asked. “Yes, many Voruscans love fighting, especially members of the Caern Jale. I’m sure each has his or her reasons. I don’t like them. Too many chances for things to go wrong, I prefer that we get it over as quickly as possible to avoid letting something slip by.”

Cannon scoffed and drank some more.

Rendo grinned over at me. “We’ll be good, I have a feeling about this, it’s going to go well.”

I nodded. “Just be thorough. Don’t take anything for granted.”

I ate a little, and before I knew time had passed, a small bell rang somewhere out of sight.

“Guess that’s my queue!” Cannon said. He stood and grabbed his heavy sword from where it was leaning against the wall, strapping it on over his back. I hadn’t really looked at the great falchion before, but I got a good view as I followed him out through the hall. The heavy forward end was engraved intricately, and the handle was almost two full hands in length, wrapped in steel wire and leather.

I double checked my gear as we walked the halls. Daggers, quiver, sword, bow, and my armor was strapped on just loosely enough to let me move. The chain links made soft noises as I walked.

In the main hall, Zur Nav was waiting. He was wearing another ornamental gown, similar to the one he’d worn to challenge his sister, but this one was colored red and the metals were predominantly copper. He had a sword of his own belted at his side, a longsword for his size which easily was longer than Sered’s greatsword. The silver eyepatch remained as before.

“My friends! You all look so ferocious!” The giant clapped his hands as he spoke, and his robes clanged like a professional kitchen experiencing a small earthquake. I’d seen the robes of State worn by our emperor and high nobles before, and the overwhelming kitsch of Zur Nav’s outfit almost had me laughing.

Almost. I’m no fool. I won’t be caught laughing at a giant.

“Is everyone ready?” He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. “It’s going to be a glorious day!”

“Ready as we’ll ever be, I think,” Sered said.

“Fantastic! Then let’s be off!” Hew drew up short. “WAIT!”

"Oh, goodness GRACIOUS! How could I forget?!" His hands clapped together rapidly again, like meat drums. He calmed almost immediately, "Indeed, this is good. You will need capes! Wait here!"

He quickly walked out of the room. "Capes?" Rendo asked. I could only shrug.

Shortly after, Zur returned bearing a large bundle of light-green fabric. He handed pieces out to everyone - they turned out to be crudely fashioned capes with ropes to fasten them around our necks. Each one had crudely written "Zur Nav" across their backs in red wax. "Put these on!”

We left the main gate, and where the place had been little more than a dark alley when we arrived, it was a glaring blaze of light when we emerged. Servants bearing magical lanterns were waiting to either side of the gate, and took up formation around us as an escort.

As we walked, I recited a war-chant from the Caern Jale, a reinforcing enchantment that would banish exhaustion for the day. I noticed through my concentration on the ritual, crowds lining the street to watch us, some waving but mostly just quietly talking among themselves.

I finished the ritual and checked my gear again. I was beginning to hear a heavy beat in the distance, deep echoing tympani sounds, growing steadily louder like some great heart pounding.

“What is that?” I asked Cannon.

“Beats the shit out of me,” he said. “But I like it.”

“That is the call of the Stadium,” Zur Nav said over his shoulder.

I had to gaze around in wonder. Only months ago, I was a soldier moving through the jungles of Arrol territory, and we were closing in on the defeat of the rival empire. Now, the war was long dusty history, my home gone, and I was walking through a city of magic and sinister intent to rival even my own home.

Within a few minutes, we had taken several turns down main avenues, and the city opened out, away from us. Within the baleful lights, the ground simply fell away, and a massive crater was revealed, or perhaps it had once been a sink-hole. Its sides were carved into seats and stairs, turning it into a massive amphitheater. At its base it became a broad oval sand floor, littered with a variety of obstacles – pits of spikes and burning pitch, great metal walls graced with more spikes standing upright in polished channels inset in the stone, small fields of uneven steps. All around the ring wall surrounding the contest grounds, evenly spaced giant-sized gates stood closed.

Zur Nav drew up. “Our Stadium,” he said proudly. “We normally host competitions and entertainment here, but it goes back in our history all the way to Bres, that we have used this ground to decide rivalries such as ours here.”

He pointed down into it. “This is where my city’s future will be decided today.”

Turning to us, his face was cramped with joy. “Isn’t it so exciting?!?!”

This didn’t help my nerves at all. Knowing that our future was somehow tied with this creature’s instability just added more layers to my concern.

A short distance away Flay Gaz was being carried in a litter by a squad of trolls, with a full army of some sixty of the greenish-grey abominations marching in formation behind her. One particularly large one - Dorad, I presumed, as I had never seen him - stood behind and to the side of the litter. He had a massive fomorian eye in his left socket, and a fine set of Fomorian armor on him. The other trolls didn't look so good, though. Many were missing limbs, eyes, and other parts. I'd thought it impossible to permanently mutilate a troll, but perhaps Flay had found a way through her flesh manipulations or something. Even for trolls, these looked bedraggled, unruly. They were at the end of their ropes.

“Oh, look! There’s my brother!” Zur Nav pointed excitedly at a Fomor who was leading a small retinue up the road towards the Stadium. “Gazul Kil! I’m surprised Flay let him live,” the giant said.

He waved at the approaching giant. “Gazul! Gazul Kil!”

Gazul Kil was big. When I say big, I want to be understood. Fomorians are large by nature. When compared to Zur Nav, this giant was about like comparing an ogre to me. That bastard was HUGE. I could see the emotions warring in him, one probably wanting to just behead Zur and be done with it, the other wanting to see how this turned out. I could also see fear - in spite of his advantages, today was an all-or-nothing bet against someone who had nothing to lose.

And he had zero control over the outcome. Even I had more input into the result than he did. The anxiety practically dripped from his forehead.

"You thought I was DEAD!!" Zur began. "Sneaky, random little brother mine, you thought I was DEAD!! You think I might have come to challenge you, didn't you?!?"

Zur Nav turned a little jig. "Ohhhh, no. I knew you’d sworn to Flay. Tricksy trickster! She probably gave you the cock of a troll in exchange, didn’t she?”

The big Fomor froze in place, and his retinue stumbled to avoid crashing into him.

“My mamby-pamby brother? Flying around with all his little angely wangels? Hmm? What's the matter? Do you have an angel to lick on your toes while you empty your bowels, Gazul? Hmm????"

The huge creature simply smiled at Zur Nav and picked at his left nostril, which had an enormous wart in which was set a glittering jewel. Zur Nav paused and fought for control for a few moments, various slurs escaping him.

Zur Nav turned back to us and whispered. “Gazul there spends a lot of his time hunting angels, but I think he gets a little more fun than just catching them,” his eyebrows jerked up and down as he said this.

Meanwhile, Sered had walked over towards Flay Gaz’ entourage, and stopped a short distance from the giant troll. "Here's your chance, bastard. No more hiding behind this woman, fat as she might be.” He gave her a contemptuous glare as he said this.

“No more proxies, no more cowardly using others to swipe at us. Look at what you've done to your people. How many did you sell out to get your safe, comfy little place here? King of the trolls? Your people are looking awfully woe-begotten. Where's your vaunted royalty?" As he spoke, many of the trolls looked at each other, and I could almost feel Dorad bristle.

I looked over at Rendo, surprised at Sered’s outburst. “What got into him?” I asked.

Rendo just shrugged, unknowing.

The troll turned and walked to Flay, that big greyish nose almost poking her in her swarming belly, and we heard some sharp hissing argument going on between them. Something was definitely breaking. At least, it seemed so.

Dorad reached up to his shoulder and unstrapped his armor. It fell at his feet, Flay's furious glare at him conveying a scorn and venom that made even me uncomfortable. He turned and walked back to us, and pulled up a few yards away.

He raised his voice and addressed the crowd in a wet, belching voice: "I revoke any claim to the throne of Ihnbharan that I might have ever had or will ever have, Recks’ naming of me I repudiate. I am Dorad, no more of Ihnbharan!"

He then turned to us and took one step closer. The smell of him was terrible.

"I will meet you as a champion of the Lady Flay Gaz. I will wear your intestines as trophies, and I will feast on your livers. Then, and only then, will I kill you." As he said this, he reached up and with three sharp tugs ripped the Fomorian eye from the socket in his head, dropping it to the ground, where he stepped on it. The hole oozed a dark ichor, and the troll walked back to his formation.

“Magistrate!” Zur Nav shouted.

He didn’t have to repeat himself, as a bat-rider fluttered down to us.

The giant gestured back at us. “My champions are prepared. Please see that they are readied.”

He turned back to us. “The die is cast, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, yet.” He winked with this last word. I glanced over at Sered, who was walking back and looking at our patron. He nodded once to Zur Nav as he rejoined us.

The goblin put its fingers in its mouth and let out a high-pitched whistle. Several man-sized goblins detached themselves from the guards around the Stadium, and took us below. Stone stairs, perhaps four yards long each, eight yards wide, with another yard of depth on each one, were obviously made for giant-sized feet.

We made our way steadily, if a bit awkwardly. Rendo walked beside me, taking a small hop down on each step.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m scared shitless,” he said quietly. “That troll is pissed.”

“You wouldn’t be a good fighter if you didn’t feel a little fear,” I replied without looking at him. “I always get scared before a fight.”

“Easy for you, you were a war commander, right?”

“It’s never easy. I hated every fight I was in. Even the ones where I got everything my way, and there were a few of those, I was still going to lose someone. And it might always have been me.”

“What do I do? I feel like…” a pause and slight grunt as we dropped a step. “My knees are going to give,” he finished. “I never had time to think about a coming fight like this one.”

The walls were carved granite, laced with some kind of iridescent glitter. “You’re an archer. You shouldn’t be going hand-to-hand, ever, if you can avoid it. We get in there, start figuring out where your feet go, and shoot targets of opportunity. If that medusa is in there with us, I’d really prefer that target be her.”

“I thought you liked her?”

“I do, but that doesn’t change that she’d be the enemy. My old commander might be out there, too, but I’ll still have to try to drop him.” I started tapping my hand against my leg in a rhythm for a battle-chant. This one needed a bit of prep time, as it affected everyone’s weapons, putting a bit of elemental Earth into the edges. I could feel the exquisitely sharp edges of crystal and iron lacing the far plane, and their essence slowly infusing the air around my friends.

Friends…that was the first time I had really thought of them that way.

“Shouldn’t I shoot him? The commander guy? He’s tougher, yeah?”

“He is, but you need to be on the move. He’s an archer too, and a damned good one. If he’s there, you need to get out of his way. He’ll be wearing armor that deflects all but the most deeply enchanted bows or arrows. We’re going to have to chase him down and drop him hand-to-hand if we want to get him.”

“I see.”

“Look, just don’t stay in one place for more than two shots. Get your bow ready, get to a position, shoot, put another arrow on, maybe shoot again, and then run. Pick the next cover from which to shoot and get your next arrow on while you move. Think you can do that?” This time I looked at him.

His face was pinched with worry. “Yeah, I think so.”

I thought it over. “You are really something, you know?”

“How do you mean?”

“Look, six months ago my world had your kind serving as menial labor. Pulling carriages, cleaning things. I would never in a million years have put weapons in the hands of a half-size. But here you are, and you’re as much of a warrior as any of my soldiers.”

He smiled thinly. “I’ll try not to be insulted by that,” he said. “But I like that you think I’m as good as a Shadrim.”

“Good. Now try not to get killed, my armor’s gonna need cleaning when we’re done.”

“Fuck you. You can clean mine,” his grin was full now. He trotted ahead of me, further ahead on the stairs.

“That was good,” Cannon said quietly, moving up alongside me. “I was worried about him.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“You really were a commander, weren’t you?”

I nodded.

“You earned your place in legends, then,” he said. “Kids should be scared of you.”

This time it was my turn to grin. “I’ll try not to be insulted by that.”

“Why? You’re an ugly bastard and kids should run,” he smiled widely. “Now let’s go fuck some bad guys up!”

We entered a wide antechamber, where the guards moved off to one side. We were lined up single-file, and a G’torrian in the middle took off our primitive capes, then used a wide brush with a yellow paint to slap a broad stripe on our chests and back.

“This better come out of my armor,” Cannon said.

“I’ve got a cleaning spell that’ll take care of it, later.” I said.

“It better, I’m not going to go back wearing a yellow belly.” He grumbled.

Sered had been unusually quiet, even for himself.

“What’s up?” I asked. “What was all that with Dorad?”

“Zur Nav asked me to challenge him last night, gave me specific instructions about calling him out,” he replied.

“Why?”

“He said he wanted to give us our chance to kill him as he promised,” he said.

“Fair enough, I suppose. I got the impression he was going to hand him over once we’d won, not have us fight him directly.”

“Still uncertain about what makes Zur Nav so certain,” he said.

“I’ve got a theory,” I said.

“Do tell,” he looked straight at me.

“Once this Combat Majeur begins, I’m betting that this technically lifts the prohibition on sibling violence. He’s going to be hoping Flay is distracted by her impending victory that he’ll have a short window in which to assassinate her.”

“Her impending victory?”

I motioned him aside and spoke so no one would overhear. “We’re up against a mercenary group whose commander has spent a thousand years or more fighting for the Legions of Hell,” I said. “As much as I might think we’re capable, I don’t know how we get ahead of those odds. He’s gotta act in the first few minutes, because I don’t think we’ll last long head-to-head.”

“That is not very comforting,” he said.

“Well, Rendo needed it more than you, and that took all the uplift I got,” I replied.

“You know, in another life,” he said, “…we probably still would have hated each other.”

I laughed at that. “Yeah, probably so.”

I slapped his shoulder. Just as we were turning back to the others, the goblin in the center snorted loudly.

“Contestants to positions!”

(All content here, outside of those elements attributed otherwise, is copyright (2025-) Thomas Theobald. With the exception of AI training, personal use with attribution is granted.)