Page 39 of Fortune's Blade

I did not understand where it had come from, as everything in the valley that I had seen had been temporary. Tents and open fronted, collapsable booths had been the order of the day for those not merely selling out of the backs of their wagons. So, I did not understand why I was currently looking at a large arena of pitted, off-white stone, massive blocks of which had been used to construct towering rows of seats surrounding an open space filled with golden sand.

The arena had bright, red and white, striped shades over parts of the stands, hawkers selling refreshments and people waving banners in languages I didn’t know to cheer on their favorites. Or I should say, their favorite, as they all looked like the art that I’d seen on the side of the advertising wagon earlier. And I was starting to think that perhaps the size disparity between the combatants depicted had not, after all, been artistic license.

Because something was stomping about out of sight thanks to the high walls of the tunnel.

Something big.

The ponderous footsteps were audible even over the roar of the crowd, and heavy enough to shake pebbles loose from the gravel fill in between the large stones of the wall every time one hit down.

But the crowd roared again, nonetheless, and it was deafening, and that was before a mud-covered savage ran past the opening. It seemed that Marlowe had entered the arena through another gate while we were lost in the maze and did not look to be enjoying it. And neither did Ray, who turned on me with huge eyes.

“Alright. I’m gonna grab that guy,” he said, pointing at a massive, troll-ogre hybrid ahead of us. “You just stay here, and I’m gonna go get him.”

I blinked at him. That seemed . . . unlikely. The creature was even bigger than the one in our cell had been, not to mention that there were two of them, one on either side of the entrance.

There were dressed in shiny suits of armor they did not need, since troll flesh was as hard as steel, as I had cause to know. Fortunately, they hadn’t noticed us yet because they had their backs to us, facing out. And because of the noise. And because they were enjoying seeing Marlowe being thrown around the sand.

Ray watched as a first-level master was tossed through the air like a frisbee, slinging helplessly around and around as if blown out of a cannon, and then turned to me and began speaking rapidly. “As soon as I attack him, you zoom past and climb the stands before the other bully boy can react, okay?”

I looked at him some more, wondering if I had misheard. “And what are you going to do?”

He did not answer me. “They’re not nearly as fast as you, so you got an advantage. Find the entrance, battle your way through if you can, or better yet, blend in with the crowd. Keep this up—” he pulled on the hood to my ripped poncho-like garment until it covered my hair and ears. “And keep your head down. They won’t be able to tell you from a fey. You’re short, but there’s a lot of half breeds around here, product of some of the Green Fey’s slaves who ran away and intermarried with the locals—”

“Ray.”

“—so you’ll blend in fine. Just a spectator who got tired and decided to go home early. No big deal—”

“It is a big deal,” I pointed out. “I would be leaving you behind.”

But Ray was not listening. “And don’t look back. Just run. Find a village called Denhall in the Blarestri hinterlands. It’s got a big mill there; everybody knows it. There’s this guy—”

“I don’t care about that.”

“—named Penton. He runs the mill and he’s an ass, but he has a portal—”

“I am not doing that.”

“—in the basement and he’ll get you out, okay? Tell him the senate’ll make him rich for your return and he’ll do whatever you want. I know it’s a long way, but you’re smart. You’ll be alright—”

“I will not, because I will not be going.”

And, finally, something seemed to get through.

“You damned well will!” he said furiously, blue eyes snapping. “Look, I’ll find you, okay? I’ll get out. Marlowe is a bastard, but he can fight, and so can I when it comes down to it. And two is better in a brawl than one—”

“And three is even better than two, is it not?”

“No! Not if one of the three is you. Just go—”

“No.”

He stared at me, and for the first time, he didn’t look merely afraid. He looked terrified. “Please, do this for me. Just—please, Dorina. You have to, okay? I—you have to.”

“Like you left me when I was injured and could not walk, and we were in a cave being pursued by Svarestri warriors? Because I do not remember it like that.”

“Please—”

“Or when they caught up with us on the river, and I still couldn’t walk, and you could have escaped but chose to stay with me instead?”

---