AutumnQuest (16 page)

When I awoke, the room was pitch black. No light, no sound. Tebina must have been sleeping. I sat up slowly. All right so far. I swung my feet over the side of the bed. No dizziness. I stood up. I felt a little weak, but that was it.

In the dark, I felt around the room until I discovered a wood chair on which my clothes lay folded. They smelled fresh and clean. I put them on, then reached under the chair and, as I hoped, found my pack.

The doorway, covered with a heavy curtain, was easy to slip past without making a sound. The room beyond was filled with moonlight, allowing me to move a little more freely without worrying about banging into something. I unlatched the front door, then took a quick look back. It was ungracious to leave like this, but I had no choice.

Two pale green lights appeared near the floor, and I almost cried out aloud. Then Ralli strolled into the room.

“May you have success.” And to my surprise, he didn’t try to stop me leaving.

“Thank you,” I replied without thinking.

I went outside, carefully closing the door behind me.

My son~

Something disturbs the feel of the game. I suspect that I, too, begin to become cognizant of our opponent’s unfolding strategy. We must soon determine our countermove, lest this opportunity to win be lost for our lifetime. The long ages of careful moves must not be allowed to go for naught. We must play our final piece soon, though as you say, carefully and without haste.

I await your word to move the Dagger and the Crown.

~Your father

The first thing I noticed outside was that the cold seemed to have arrived. I rushed down the front path to the street, barely noticing the cottage garden in bloom.

Once clear of the windows of Tebina’s house, I stopped, dug my cloak out of my pack, and huddled into the heavy fabric. Then I looked around to get my bearings. Glancing at the stars, I saw that the sky was deep blue, signaling that sunrise would be soon.

I needed to get to the arena. Xyla had said something about being enclosed far from the sky, so she must have been underground, and it seemed likely that they would keep the dragons near the huge arena.

As before, I kept following the streets that led uphill. Before long, the effects of my illness began to tell on me. I hadn’t been walking fast, just briskly enough to keep warm, but a sudden wave of nausea washed over me. I leaned against a wall, waiting for the feeling to subside. When it had, I moved on, now worried about one more thing—whether my strength would last.

The sky began to lighten, and soon, a few people appeared in the streets. Heat pouring out of the open door of a bakery was irresistible. I stopped, soaking up the warmth until my joints began to loosen. But basking in a warm doorway wasn’t going to get me any closer to my goal, and I forced myself to move on.

Eventually, I reached the market next to the arena. The buzz from the traders setting up their stalls seemed more excited than I would have expected. I meandered through the market, wondering what was causing the stir. Then I heard the high-pitched voice of a newsboy.

“Emancipation Day’s feature fight: the traitor. Guilty of stealing a dragon egg, he faces a dragon today.”

I felt the blood drain from my face, and my knees almost buckled. In just a few hours, everything I’d been dreading would happen, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I rummaged in my pack, hoping to find a few coppers to pay the newsboy for the full story, but instead, my fingers closed on my meditation candles. Once again, days had passed since I’d meditated.

I headed out of the market. Walking around the arena, I looked for a likely place where I could sit out of sight and out of the breeze. About two-thirds the way around the huge stone structure, there was a short passageway that ended with an ancient door. I walked down the passageway, then kicked aside some of the thick layers of dried, dead leaves. This would be perfect.

I pulled the meditation kit from my pack and dumped the small candles into my hand. Even in the dim light, their colors gleamed. Forest green for strength and red for love. I picked those candles out of the bunch and placed them in the silver Autumn and copper Winter candlesticks. Then I lit them and began my routine.

In my distraction of the upcoming events, it took time to find my calm center. My breathing slowed. I settled.

Anguish! Hopelessness! Imprisonment! My emotions twisted out of control, wrenched away by some unseen force. Anger smouldered, a rage so deep that once it burst forth, its flames would consume the world. And there, a tiny thread of consciousness that felt like Xyla. It had to be dragons! I must have been right above their stable. Or prison, more like.

With an effort that practically left me prostrate on the ground, I grasped hold of my thoughts to drag them free of the dragons’ clutches. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to return to my calm center. My breath came in gasps. After struggling for several minutes against the pull of the dragons, I finally regained control of myself. I concentrated on taking deep, regular breaths. In, out. In, out.

Calm settled over me, and I opened my eyes to see the candlelight flickering delicately on the walls of the passage. Rising to my feet in one fluid motion, almost as if an unseen hand helped me up, I grabbed the doorknob and turned it. To my surprise, the door swung silently open.

I peered inside. It wasn’t pitch black as I’d expected. I turned back to my candles, blew them out, put everything into my pack, and passed through the door. It clicked softly closed behind me, and I walked down this new passage.

It was more like a tunnel with a spot of light blazing from the far end. The air was fresh, though tinged with an almost earthy odor I didn’t recognize. On either side were doorways. I tried each one, but they were all locked, and the handles felt grimy and disused.

Finally, I drew near the opening to the outside. Sunlight poured in, making me blink. A huge flat field stretched out in front of me, and all around rose rank upon rank of stands. A few workers were in the distance, no doubt taking care of a few last preparations for the day’s fights. For Breyard’s fight.

I shrank back into the tunnel, not wanting to be noticed. Against the odds, I’d managed to get inside the arena with no money; I didn’t want to get caught now. Before long, the workers disappeared.

I stepped out into the sunlight, wishing it were warmer. No sign of movement anywhere. I found the nearest stairway and started to make my way up it.

The wide seats on the lower rows gave way first to backed benches, then to backless benches, and finally, as I rose higher, to rows with nothing but the ground to sit on. These must have been the cheap seats, where people stood to watch the events far below.

I sat down in the first standing row and leaned back against the next riser up. As if it had been waiting for me to stop moving, exhaustion immediately set in. I closed my eyes, trying to absorb some of the sun’s healing power as it shone warm onto my face.

I awoke to the sounds of people all around as the stands began to fill. I rose to my feet, wondering whether it wouldn’t be better just to leave, not ever to know for sure what happened. But something deep inside—instinct, almost—made me stay. This was where I belonged today.

My row filled up quickly. A well-dressed, good-looking young man took the place next to me, giving me a friendly nod and a smile. I nodded back. He had a slightly vacant look to his eyes, and even as I watched, he pulled a pouch out of his pocket, took a pinch of green powder, and snorted it.

For a moment, I couldn’t believe it. Taking dolg powder, right out in the open? I glanced around, but no one seemed to have noticed—or if they had, they didn’t care. It also explained why an apparently wealthy young man would be in the standing rows rather than in the comfortable seats lower down.

“Got a problem with it?” His melodious voice sounded more jesting than threatening.

I shook my head quickly. “No. Not at all. It’s just . . .” My voice trailed off. I didn’t want to seem backwards and out of place.

He held the pouch out to me. I shook my head again. “No. No thanks.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Sure? You might not get another offer soon.” Then he grinned. I just held my hand up to decline again. “So who’s your money on?” he asked.

“No one. Just came to watch today.” He gaped at me. “It’s my first time to the capital.”

“Oh! Well, allow me to introduce you to the King’s sport properly. First of all, my name is Lang. And, my dear, you are in for a treat today.”

Before he could say more, a deep musical tone rang out. The people still climbing the stairs began to rush.

“Warning gong,” Lang said. “Five minutes until the first fight. Everyone must be in place before it starts.”

“Why?”

“Because movement from the crowd distracts the dragons. They might even attack.”

He continued speaking, his words tumbling out faster and faster as the dolg powder took effect. I didn’t really listen. A few minutes later, a blast of trumpets silenced the crowd. The echoes bounced off the stone walls of the arena, so loud it hurt my ears.

Black-robed figures filed out and surrounded the field. I knew who they were even before Lang said, “Dragonmasters.” Their arms and staffs moved in unison, almost like a well-rehearsed dance.

Then Lang pointed to an opening in the wall surrounding the field, and a moment later, a man walked onto the field. He wore only a loincloth, and his head was shaven. He held a sword as if he didn’t have any idea how to use it. A large flock of birds swooped into the arena, and even though they didn’t come near the man, he ducked down as if in fear. This was how a man faced a fighting dragon? He didn’t have a chance. I tried to swallow down the bile that rose in my throat. Lang’s eyes gleamed.

The dragon entered the arena from a large opening opposite the man. A scream burst from its throat. The man quailed. There was no hope for him, and he knew it. He stepped forward, brandishing the sword.

Seeing the movement, the dragon focused its attention on the man. It crouched, its white belly almost touching the ground, and flicked its tongue. Then it stretched out its silvery wings and pounced.

A roar of excitement rose from the crowd as the dragon closed in on its prey. Next to me, Lang practically squealed in delight. The doomed man on the field swiped at the dragon with his sword, but it wasn’t close enough yet. As if to taunt the man, the dragon swooped its head around him, keeping just out of reach of the flashing sword.

Finally, the dragon jumped into the air and came down next to the man, raking him with its talons. His screams rang out for a moment, then were drowned by the cheering crowd. Or maybe they just stopped.

The dragon threw the limp, bleeding body into the air and caught it in its mouth. I imagined I could hear the crunching of bones.

I fell against Lang, who grabbed my arm to steady me.

“Wasn’t that fabulous?” His eyes were glazed over now, and the ecstatic tone of his voice sickened me even further.

“I . . . need to sit down.” Lang let go of me and turned his attention back to the field.

How could a person, much less so many people, take pleasure in such a horrific death? I felt as if I’d never really understood anything about humanity before, and now I didn’t want to.

I remained seated through several more fights, and I tried—without success, of course—to block the sounds from my ears. I wondered briefly why I couldn’t feel the vibrations of the crowd but was thankful for it. Surely such a disgusting orgy of vicious emotion would drown me.

Then there was a break. Lang sat down next to me, unconcernedly asking if I was all right. “It’s been a great day of fighting so far. I’ve already won five gold pieces.” He rubbed his hands together. “The big fight of the day is next. The infamous, egg-stealing traitor. I’ve bet ten gold pieces that he dies in less than three minutes.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Wanting to change the subject, I asked, “Why don’t the dragons fly away?”

“The dragonmasters,” Lang said.

I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”