"Neyeb, why?"
The voice could have been male or female. It was low, vibrating through the floor of her mind and making the air shimmer as if it were now water.
"Why what?" Which doorway was it coming from? Or was it from the hall itself? She stepped forward, steeling her voice. "Who are you?"
"Why abandon us?" The whisper now sounded like a dozen. "Why leave us?"
The voice did not seem to be getting closer or farther as she continued down the hall. "I don't know who you are." Her mouth was so dry. She started forward. This was her mind though. If something else was in here, she would deal with them. "Whoever you are, please say. Show yourself."
She turned toward the doorway directly at her left.
Red reptilian eyes lit up in the darkness.
Crespa.
She knew those eyes.
* * *
"What do you fear, Enver?"Naatos paced along the edge of the coarse stone, putting himself between the Abliatos and the Vawtrians. "Do you want to look in my eyes and see what horrors haunt your dreams?" Ordinarily, he'd have preferred a far grander entrance. Something with flames and scales. But this, it would be satisfying in a different way. He strode forward, his gaze fixed on Enver.
Enver straightened his shoulders, the shock fading in all but the sharpness of his eyes. The turquoise in the markings along his temples and cheeks intensified, and his false wings pulsed. "You were not in the processing unit."
"You’ll let that stop you?" He chuckled. "I thought you simply wanted to spar. To test out those legendary powers of illusion."
The Abliato students huddled together, scowling and pointing as they whispered back and forth. Umit remained seated, but his brow furrowed. He held up his hand to silence them.
Enver chuckled darkly as he looked Naatos up and down. "The punishment for intervention is death or surrender to the sand pits until you find your weight in ceyden. Unless you have a compelling reason for this interruption or an explanation for who you are, your fate is sealed."
"Is it?" Naatos walked to the edge of the arena, then turned so that his back was nearly pressed against the cut stone. Then he resumed walking again, his pace casual. "I’d say that the punishment for your acts could only be death. A hard and painful one. Surrender is only acceptable if you surrender now." And even then maybe not. "Not that you're likely to surrender to a Vawtrian."
Enver's painted eyebrow lifted.
Umit leaned forward, his black-wrapped arms resting on his knees. "You think you can walk in here and speak to us in this fashion, skinchanger?" He spoke the words in a low even tone, but rage sparked in his bright-blue eyes. "Do you not understand respect in front of your superiors?"
"You think you are my superiors?" Naatos stopped at the edge of the stone and laughed. "You are less than the sand in the treads of my boots."
Enver scoffed. "For your arrogance, you should be half broken and saved for Withercrown. Potentate Tezcan would like to see you wither. You must be from the wilds. I've met skinchangers like you before."
"You've met my brothers? I find that unlikely as you have all your limbs," Naatos said. "Though not even they are entirely like me."
"If I met your brothers, I would have broken them, drained them, and fed them to my kraken. You are not so special. Skinchangers like you think that surviving in the wilderness means they are strong enough to combat civilization and ingenuity, but they are nothing before us. You may be large, and you may be strong, but you will bow and writhe and beg as all those who have come before you. And you will be presented in Withercrown as a warning."
"Oh, I will be there. And with an exceptionally serious warning. Have no concern on that. You, however, won't be able to attend."
"Won’t I?" Enver exchanged glances with Umit, both appearing more amused. He almost seemed to take comfort in knowing Naatos was a Vawtrian. Most likely he believed that gave him an advantage. Fool. "Zumna, Toros, request a transport. This one goes back." Enver pointed at Naatos.
AaQar dropped back from the boulder, likely turning into some sort of serpent or low-running lizard. Phobos fell to the side, his eyes widening before he disappeared from sight.
Naatos allowed himself a smirk. No one would be leaving this arena without AaQar's approval.
The two attendants stepped away from the others. Their grey and turquoise robes caught in the wind, flattening against them and making them much smaller now. They glanced between Naatos and Enver as if afraid something horrible might happen.
It would. Just not right away.
Death waited silently for them at the top of the stairs.
"Tell them to hurry," Naatos said. "Because you die as soon as I tire of you. Both of you."