Page 40 of Bound

Rych looks up at the sky. The suns went down over half an hour ago, and darkness is spreading its fingers over the terrain. He looks at me.

“You are the mate of a Gryn gladiator,” he intones. “You are afraid of nothing.”

He sets his wings, and I feel terrible. He thinks I doubt his ability to protect me, whereas I’m more concerned for him.

We walk around the corner and into the main thoroughfare. I miss my stick. Not because my leg feels like it’s going to give way but because I could use it as a weapon if I had to. Rych curls his huge hand around mine, comforting and solid.

I need to have more faith.

I need to have more trust.

As we make our way down the street, we get stared at by the inhabitants of Szar. I notice there are few Tref, and the ones I do see scurry away. The rest are scrawny looking Habosu, a number of Yetag, and the occasional Oykig.

“Here.” Rych comes to a halt outside a small place which seems better kept than those on either side. It has several steps up from the street and a portico with columns.

“Gladiator!” The word rings out down the too quiet street.

Rych turns to see a large Habosu glaring at him. He pushes me back. “I’ll deal with this,” he says quietly. “Go inside.”

I take a few steps under the portico, but I don’t want to let Rych out of my sight.

“I am not a gladiator,” Rych says evenly.

“Could have fooled me.” The Habosu sneers, his green-gray flesh wobbling. “My brother was in the dome. You killed him.”

“I’ve killed many. Something your brother would have known if he willingly came to the dome,” Rych replies. “If not willingly, then he would have always been executed for his crimes.”

A chill runs through me. Tatatunga is a vicious place, I knew that, but his words bring the violence of the capital into stark relief. And how I’ve only survived because of my Gryn protector.

“He was killed by a Gryn, and now it is my turn to avenge him.”

A small crowd is gathering around Rych and the Habosu.

“Then you will die also,” Rych responds, pulling his sword from its sheath between his wings.

Something heavy drops onto my shoulder, and instantly I attempt to duck away. But I’m unable to get the grip released.

“What’s going on, Bort?” A strong female voice rings out in the still, cool air.

The Habosu’s stance suddenly changes. He straightens and blinks at me.

“There is a gladiator here.”

“I see a Gryn and a…female. I see no gladiator,” the voice responds. “If you spent as much time concentrating on your work as you do on your useless excuse of a brother, this town would be wealthier than Tatatunga,” she says. “Go about your business.”

The crowd melts away as the grip on me releases and I’m able to see who had hold of me.

A tall Voltes, an alien species which always reminds me of a werewolf, her tawny fur silky smooth, her blue eyes blazing at the Habosu who hangs on until the last moment before he too leaves.

Rych doesn’t sheath his sword. Instead he glares at the female, who moves to one side, away from me.

“You are not welcome here, Gryn,” she says coldly.

“No shit,” I mutter.

Rych lowers his weapon, takes two steps, and pulls me to his side away from the Voltes.

“I am Red, owner of this establishment,” she says, eyeing the pair of us. “Szar perhaps isn’t the place for you, Gryn warrior.”

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