Another roar went up, this one a mixture of disbelieving boos and disapproving whistles. As before, it faded when the king raised his arm. “Serovek, Lord Pangion of High Salure and one of my most valued margraves stands accused of these crimes. Witnesses have come forth to argue against him.” Serovek wondered who these mysterious witnesses were. To his knowledge, only Bryzant had slandered him to Rodan.
“According to Beladine law, he may be tried before a tribunal or...” Rodan paused for effect, and the crowd held its collective breath. Serovek rolled his eyes. “have his innocence or guilt decided in judicial combat. A fight to the death.” This time the crowd held its silence, and the silence pulsed like a beating heart. “Long has it been since we in Timsiora have witnessed trial by combat—a fight to the death—but today we will. A champion has come forth to fight in Lord Pangion's name and Lord Pangion has accepted.”
It was Serovek's turn to growl, and Rodan glanced over his shoulder to flash him a wolfish smile at his obvious lie. The crowd erupted once more, this time with cheers and calls for a fight to begin. The king gave a signal and a gate at one end of the amphitheater opened up admitting Anhuset who, from this distance, looked small but not at all diminished as she strode toward the center of the arena. “My people,” Rodan shouted above the din of unsure cheers, “I give you Anhuset of the Kai kingdom of Bast-Haradis, champion of Lord Serovek Pangion.” The cheers, which had been quieter at first as the crowd gawked and pointed at the formidable silver and gray Kai woman standing tall in her heavy armor, rose to even greater volume when she pivoted sharply to face the king and offered him the Kai salute reserved for a monarch.
Serovek nearly choked on his own spittle when he saw it. He'd made it a point to learn more about his Elder race neighbors over the years, becoming mostly fluent in their language. He'd fought beside them on patrols, fought against them in raids, and diced with them in their barracks. He'd danced with their women during their festivals, rode with their regent into battle against demons, and fell in love with one of their high-ranking officers. The Kai salute was dramatic, sharp, and forceful. A thump to the chest with the fist before the arm straightened and was held stiffly to the side. It was also very similar to a much more vulgar Kai gesture in which the fist opened up to a spread hand before the arm straightened. A subtle change gone unnoticed by those unfamiliar with Kai gestures and lingo, which the king and likely every soul in Timsiora could count themselves. An obvious change to the Kai and to Serovek. Anhuset had just told the king in front of thousands of his subjects to go fuck himself.
She might well lose this fight and die this day as his champion, but she would do so undefeated. Serovek swore in that moment if she perished, he truly had nothing to lose, and Rodan would pay a heavy price for his paranoia.
Rodan gave a regal nod, accepting her insult with all the pomposity it definitely didn't deserve. Serovek clenched his jaw to keep from laughing out loud. His amusement was short lived when the king told Anhuset, “Choose your weapons, Anhuset, for you are about to meet your opponent.”
Dread replaced humor but Serovek's jaw stayed clenched as he leaned to the side like everyone else in the king's party when he signaled and another gate matching the one Anhuset came through opened on the opposite end. The tension in the forum was thick enough to walk on as they waited for someone to enter the arena. Anhuset stood by the weapons rack to make her choice once she saw her adversary.
Someone never emerged but something did.
A monstrosity the size of a small horse, encased in hard black scales, scuttled into the arena on multiple fast-moving legs that sent showers of sand into the air with its passing. Its long, segmented tail was equal in length to its body and arched over its back, tipped with a barb as big as a dagger and dripped a black liquid which left smoking puddles in the sand. A pair of massive front pincers, serrated along one inner edge, curved in front of its body acting as both shield and weaponry guaranteed to rip apart anything they managed to grab. The crowd screamed together, and several people abandoned their seats, trampling over those in the aisles in a bid to escape.
Serovek's own bellow stayed trapped in his throat, though his eyes ached from bulging from their sockets. A scarpatine, but one of a size straight out of a nightmare, something he'd expect to see in the world of the galla, where surely they would run screaming too if something like that scuttled across their accursed landscape. The colossal insect danced one way and then the other on its eight bent legs, its belly carving lines in the sand as it reacted to the movements of the crowd surrounding it.
Anhuset had wasted no time choosing her weapons. A straightforward pairing of round shield and long spear with a leaf-bladed spear head and weighted at its butt end by a ferrule for balance. She put on her helmet, pulling it low over her brow. Surely, she was half-blind under so much light.
The massive scarpatine paused in its dance as if waiting, its armor-plated body gleaming dully in the sun. Its tail curved forward even tighter, the tip twitching back and forth as it shifted position, its movements starting to match those of Anhuset, who slowly began to circle it. Suddenly the scarpatine pivoted and lunged, its many legs eating ground faster than any gallop as it attacked her. She leaped out of the way just in time to miss a blow from one of those pincers Her shield took the hit instead, the strike glancing off its rim with a loud thud. Anhuset jabbed with the spear from the side, aiming for a closely guarded soft spot—the top of the insect's head where numerous black eyes on short stalks covered the expanse. She missed in favor of dodging the downward plunge of the barbed tail.
“What do you think, margrave?” Rodan asked in a voice thick with gloating triumph. “The culmination of my sorcerers' hard work and many experiments. Human magic at its finest though we've cleaned the city of every stray dog and cat keeping the thing fed this long.”
And will you start with children next? Serovek kept the question behind his teeth saying instead “I beg Your Majesty to allow me into the forum to participate in this fight.” His leg muscles were practically twitching with the urge to break for the exit and race for the down stairwell. He watched as Anhuset made a second attempt at finding a chink in the scarpatine's armor for her spearhead. She and the creature circled each other, lunging and feinting at intervals.
He forgot Rodan altogether when the insect surged forward so fast, it almost landed atop Anhuset. It missed her by a hair thanks to her reflexes and the fact she was close enough to the weapons rack to shove it in front of the scarpatine. Its pincers caught and broke the rack apart, dropping polearms and swords into the sand like the inedible bits and pieces of consumed prey. Anhuset bent to fling a shower of sand over it, confusing its sense of movement long enough for her to put distance between them. The crowd roared its approval, chanting her name.
“How much does this woman mean to you?”
Rodan's question worked to pull Serovek's horrified attention off the fight and onto him. He didn't immediately answer. Such a question was a trap on numerous levels, an invitation to step into a pit full of spikes. Considering the circumstances, he had no choice but to answer and do it quickly. “I would take her place in an instant. Still shackled. Without armor or shield. Without a second thought. I never wanted a champion. You chose her. Not me.”