Page 47 of Shifter King
"It doesn’t matter," Naatos said calmly. He adjusted his grip on his spear; the double blade was sufficient for this. No sense in letting anyone think that his spear was the reason he was going to win. "Don’t get in the way. We won’t save you if you do."
Not entirely true. He’d seen enough Vawtrians die or be near death to last a lifetime.
Phobos stared at him, mouth hanging open.
Naatos turned his back on him and strode down the hill. If anything wanted to attack, they were more than welcome to. It would be a delight.
He had learned the necessary techniques and tricks for handling an illusionist's attack long, long, long ago. Shields and walls and barriers that his friends had helped him build and which he simply had to maintain. If there were no Neyeb in this world, it was not likely they had seen tricks like this before. And they certainly had never met anything like him. Besides, those wing illusions were so shoddy that even an Awdawm could do better with technology.
The grass muffled his steps as he strode closer. A few of the youths glanced up, halting momentarily before dropping their gaze once more.
Enver strode back and forth on the marble. His polished black boots made a hollow click and scuff with each step. "Are none of you bold enough?" he demanded. His long golden staff had three sapphires and two rubies fastened in its flared head. He used it to point at the kneeling Vawtrians. "I've heard tales of what you used to be capable of. Will none of you even attempt it? Look." He set the staff into an elegantly fashioned vase with a heavy bottom. "I won't even use my staff. Surely you don't fear sparring when I don't even have my staff? How much easier can I make this for you? Or are you all content that we think you weak and pathetic? You will all die in the sand pits if you can't find more fight than this. Is that what you want?"
The Vawtrians remained kneeling, all with their heads down and shoulders slumped. A few shook so hard it was a wonder they didn't collapse.
"I saw you," Enver continued, voice dropping to a low deadly pitch as he stepped to the edge of the marble. He pointed at the young Vawtrian in the center front row. He was gangly and uneven with an obviously broken shoulder and massive bruising that blackened the back and side of his neck. "Was that defiance I sensed?"
Umit sighed heavily. "I think it was. He was plotting."
The Vawtrian ducked his head down so that his chin was against his chest. He gripped his wounded shoulder and trembled, but he didn't speak. Blotches of red streaked across his tanned cheeks and throat.
"Get up," Enver said calmly. "You are a stench. Face me."
The Vawtrian nearest him, a curly-haired youth who appeared a fair bit younger, started to lurch forward but winced as the uneven points in the stone dug into his bloodied knee. "He didn't!"
"Gelto, don't." The blotchy-faced one tried to push him back.
That was family. If there was one area in which Vawtrians were predictable, it was this.
Naatos reached the edge of the staircase and leaped forward.
"There's room for both of you," Enver responded. He extended both hands palms up, the sunlight catching on the onyx bands wrapped around his wrists. "What do you fear? Come closer. Look into my eyes and let me see." As his fingers curled, the bodies of both Vawtrians started to drag forward. Blood streaked their trousers as they fought and the uneven texture of the rocks cut into them. Three of the others started whimpering, one starting to reach out but falling back.
Naatos landed on the coarse stone, making no effort to lighten his descent or soften the loud blow that followed. It jarred him through to his core, but his healing at once mended every fracture and ache in a bolt faster than a breath.
Enver dropped his arms as he jumped away, his eyes widening.
The two Vawtrian youths dropped, collapsing against their fellow prisoners. Several huddled together now. Two glanced up at the walls as if debating whether they could make a run for it. Most just stared. None of them had any idea what was about to happen.
Thank Elonumato for the small favor that Amelia wasn't here. She probably wouldn't like this, no matter what she'd said before.
THREE STEPS
Amelia stared down the hall. The muscles in her shoulders tightened as she forced herself to step forward. The problem was here. Was it what the hall represented? Or just the fact that none of these doorways had any doors?
The hairs on her arms lifted, prickling.
So many dark doorways. Anything could lurk within. If she kept walking, soon there would seem to be as many behind as before. And what would come out of them? At any moment, anything could appear.
For once, having the Ki Valo Nakar here wouldn't be so dreadful. Where was it?
"Neyeb."
She froze, her spine stiffening.
Things needed to stop talking to her inside her own mind.
Something plucked and pulsed in the air before her, as if the entire sight was simply an illusion. "Hello." She forced the word out, trying to make it bolder than she felt.
