Jane Carver of Waar (31 page)

“But ’tis unfair! I demand...”

“You demand? You forget you’re a slave now, Dhan Ruffler. I sympathize with you, and with Jae-En. Never have I had two better students, but I haven’t the power nor the inclination to put you in that match. That match is punishment for killing and attempting to kill gladiators out of the arena.”

Lhan smiled, sad and grim. “Then you have no choice but to put me in.”

“For what?”

Before I knew what he was doing, Lhan slapped Zhen across the face. It was so loud, half the yard turned and stared.

Lhan bowed. “Consider it my feeble attempt to kill you.”

Zhen stood stock still. His head had barely moved when Lhan had slapped him. Now he was as rigid as a sword. The whole yard held its breath.

Finally he spoke. “I will inform the brothers of your crime. They will decide your fate.”

He turned and walked to the trainers’ house, back straight as a Mountie’s. On the way he told his seconds to take over, but didn’t tell anybody to lock Lhan up. I hoped that was a good sign.

I turned on Lhan. “What the hell was that? What were you thinking?”

“Could I leave you to die, Mistress?”

“But what about Sai and Wen-Jhai? How are we gonna save the if both of us are dead?”

“We won’t die. We two are more than a match for six.”

I nearly hit him I was so mad. “That’s only if they put you in the match! What if they decide to cut your throat? Or put you in your own death match? Did you think of that?”

That brought him up short for a second. Then he shrugged. “What is, is. Honor would not have allowed me to do otherwise.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that sometimes us damsels in distress don’t need saving?”

He smiled at me, the bastard. “Never, Mistress. Never.”

***

Zhen made us wait a whole night to get the decision, and I didn’t get a wink. My head was full of escape plans which always stopped short once I got over the wall. It’s hard to make escape routes when you don’t know where you are.

Next morning at line-up Zhen called me and Lhan aside. The rest of the school got so quiet you could have heard an ant fart. Zhen turned and barked at them. “Have you all lost your tongues? Is the art of conversation dead?” He turned back when the fighters reluctantly started talking about the weather and who got hurt last week.

He stabbed a look at Lhan. “You’re a brave fool, Fancy. Fortunately for you, I was a brave fool myself once, or you’d be swinging at the end of a rope. Instead, I convinced the brothers that a noble-friend-comes-to-the-aid-of-his-lover story would bring in more women. You have your match.”

Lhan stiffened. “Lover? You insult Mistress Jae-En this way?”

I wasn’t a bit insulted, but now wasn’t the time to mention it.

Zhen looked like he was going to hit Lhan. “You do not want the match?”

Lhan relaxed and bowed. “My apologies, sir. You are kinder than I deserve.”

“Very true, Fancy.”

Zhen went back to the class. Lhan and I exchanged a glance. He smiled. “You see?”

“Oh, I see all right. Now I’m gonna have to watch out for your ass as well as my own.”

***

We’d already killed two of them when Lhan stopped dead beside me, staring up over my shoulder. “Sai!”

I couldn’t look. The big guy with the cornrows and the super-size spear and the little guy with the chain mail catcher’s mitt and the razorblade boomerangs were making things hot for me right then.

Lhan had been right. Six-on-one would have sucked. They had me scouted, but good. They knew all my tricks and had come up with some countermoves I didn’t like one bit. The maneuver that was a pain in my posterior at that particular moment was where Corn-Rows would trap me against the arena wall with that long-ass spear, and the little guy would hook those fucking boomerangs around him like a curveball buzzsaw out of nowhere. If I blocked a boomerang the spear jabbed in at me. If I blocked the spear the boomerangs got in my face.

Even leaping out of trouble was tough. If I jumped I’d either get a spear-head up my poop-chute or get picked off in mid-flight like a spooked duck. But just standing there wasn’t working either. I was starting to look like the world’s worst paper cut casualty. My whole body stung.

Lhan had his hands full with his two guys too. One was a whip-thin killer with a slim sword. The other was a bouncy guy with a long pitchfork. Lhan’s strategy was to keep moving so they got in each other’s way, but that meant constant running, and he was starting to get winded.

And now he had Sai to distract him. Great.

Corn-Rows’ spear shot toward my heart. I blocked it, but kept my eyes on Mr. Boomerang. He snapped off another throw and it winged over Corn-Rows’ left shoulder, right into my strike zone. Idea! Instead of deflecting it like the others, I swung at it like Mark McGuire and connected. The boomerang linedrived right back at Corn-Rows and buried itself deep in his forehead. His eyes rolled up and he sagged.

Boomerang whipped his last two kangaroo killers at me, desperate. I grabbed Corn-Rows as he fell and held him up like a human shield. Two jolts jarred me as the boomerangs bit into his back.

Mr. Boomerang ran to a dead guy, trying to get a weapon. I heaved Corn-Rows at him and knocked him flat. The crowd cheered. They were behind us all the way this time. They always loved the underdog, and two against six was as underdog as you could get.

As I ran to help Lhan I took a quick glance where he’d pointed. It was Sai all right. He was dressed in a dangerously short toga and painted up like a geisha, but I’d recognize those mopey shoulders anywhere.

He was in one of the private boxes, sitting beside his skinny, prune-faced owner. There were two hunky bodyguards behind them. The old perv was looking down at the action with shiny eyes. He seemed to like watching sweaty, naked men fight. Sai looked comatose, like he was on a heroin nod. But he wasn’t entirely out of it. When prune-face put a hand on Sai’s knee I saw him shudder. Then it was time to stop looking.

I’d done a stupid thing throwing Corn-Rows’ body at Boomerang. I was taking the Pitchfork guy off Lhan’s hands when a boomerang ricocheted off my helmet. Duh! I’d given the little fucker back his arsenal! Now I was back where I’d started, one guy stabbing, one guy throwing. And worse, Lhan wasn’t on his game. He was fighting as well as always, but he wasn’t capitalizing on his advantages. Every time he won some breathing room, he’d sneak another look at Sai and Prune-Face instead of pressing his attack. He could have nailed Swashbuckler twice over if he’d been trying.

I shouted to him. “Come on, Lhan! Get it over with!”

“The filthy, corrupting cadaver! He...”

I parried a boomerang like Luke Skywalker blocking blaster fire. “Worry about him later. I could use a little help here.”

I leaped a pitchfork thrust and we drifted apart again. I had to flip in mid-air to dodge another boomerang. Pitchfork ran under me, hoping to shish-kabob me, but I pulled my trick, throwing the weight of my sword out and snapping myself into a lopsided twist. I landed behind him.

He twisted and stabbed with his pitchfork, desperate. I batted the shaft away barehanded and ran him through, right up to the hilt. He puked blood on my armor. I shuddered.

A boomerang bit into one of my shin guards. No time to be sick. I spun, not even trying to pull my sword free, and threw the dead guy’s pitchfork at Boomerang, blind.

It wasn’t a good throw, but it was good enough. As the pitchfork wobbled past him, a barbed tine pierced his forearm. Not a killing blow, but he couldn’t throw with that fork hooked through his arm. He was out of the fight.

I turned to help Lhan. He’d kicked Swashbuckler to the ground, but instead of running him through, he was stepping toward the stands, shouting. “Sai! Beloved! Unhand him, you...”

I followed his gaze, thinking, ‘Beloved?’

In Prune-Face’s private box things had reached a climax, so to speak. Prune-Face had his hand under Sai’s loincloth and was fiddling about.

This was more than Lhan could stand. He threw his sword in Swashbuckler’s face, snatched up the super-spear from Corn-Row’s body, and chucked it as hard as he could toward the box. Prune-Face took it in the gut and flew back, pinned to the back wall like a butterfly.

The crowd gasped. Hell, I gasped. This was not good!

Everybody roared to their feet. The brothers screamed for the guards. Swashbuckler swung a brutal swipe at Lhan and cracked him on the head so hard his helmet spun off.

Lhan dropped. Swashbuckler turned on me. I backed up, totally panicked.

I screamed. “Lhan! You okay?” No answer.

What now? Fuck! A gladiator who killed a spectator, especially a guy rich enough to get a private box, was killed on the spot—no explanations, no trial. We had to get out of here, but how? Through the stands? Not a chance. The crowd had turned into a wolf pack, howling for our blood. Through the tunnels? Nope. The big iron gate that locked us into the arena was down.

No wait, it was going up. A squad of guards was forming up behind it, ready to march out and kill us. If I timed it right I just might be able to...

But what about Sai?! If I left him now, how would I find him again?

That cleared my head. I leaped over Swashbuckler’s lunge and kicked straight for Prune-Face’s box. I pulled myself up a few yards of stone work one handed, hopped the rail and landed beside Sai, sword at the ready. Prune-Face’s bodyguards stepped forward, drawing.

“Sai! quick. My hand!”

But Sai was moving in slow motion, still staring at Prune-Face, whose life was running in red rivulets down the shaft of the super-spear.

The bruisers swung at me. They must not have been watching the show. I knocked their swords away with one swipe and opened them both up with the back hand.

The crowd was tearing at the thin walls of the box. Hands ripped through like something out of a Living Dead movie. I scooped up Sai and jumped back down into the arena.

Swashbuckler was waiting for me, sword up, but before I could even begin to parry, two feet of steel exploded from his chest. He crumpled.

Lhan stood behind him, swaying. The back of his head was a red mess of sticky hair.

I landed. “Lhan! Thank god! I thought he’d got you.”

Lhan only had eyes for Sai. “Sai! Are you unhurt? Has he befouled you?”

Sai’s head lolled.

“I think he’s drugged. Come on.” I sheathed my sword. I was going to need both hands.

The iron gate was just cranking all the way open as we turned. The guards poured out.

I took Lhan by the wrist and ran right at them. They raised their spears to throw. Just as they did, I grabbed Lhan by the belt, cinched Sai tighter under my arm and leaped, carrying both of them over the guards’ spears. A guard looked up, amazed. I kicked off his face, and sprang through the gate into the darkness inside.

There were more guards in the staging area, but they dove clear as we landed. I dropped Lhan and Sai and drew again. Lhan went on guard too, only weaving a little. The guards recovered and turned on us. The guards in the arena were tripping all over themselves trying to do an about-face.

I looked at Lhan. “You good to fight?”

“Good is not the first word that springs to mind.”

If he could put together a sentence like that I wasn’t too worried. “Watch Sai then.”

I hopped to the cable that raised and lowered the gate, and chopped through it with one blow. The gate dropped with a crash that shook mortar out of the ceiling.

The guards in the arena screeched to a stop.

Lhan was fending off five guards. I jumped back to his side and brushed them back with a spinning slash. A captain shouted into the gladiator locker room. “Help us, you scum!”

But as I scooped up Sai and we started backing down the ramp into the innards of the arena, I heard Zhen. “My apologies, captain. But I can’t risk my employers’ property without their permission.”

The captain cursed him. I looked back, amazed. I swear Zhen winked at me.

***

We ran through the catacombs like blind rats, me with Sai over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Lhan leaking blood like a sieve until he tied a piece of his loincloth around his head like a bandana. It made him look like an eighties action hero, but it stopped the bleeding.

I knew the way back to the school, but that was no good. We had to find a way to the street.

Guards poured down every stairway, and we had to double back from them and from dead ends half a dozen times.

We ran past the animal pens, a long comet-tail of guards right behind us. The animals got pretty stirred up, snorting and hollering when we crashed by, and so did the keepers. They jumped in front of us with whips and clubs, but we fanned ’em back with our swords. Then I got an idea.

“Lhan, the cages!”

We leaped to the cage doors, ripped the locking pins out, hauled them open and ran. The keepers screamed, terrified, and tried to close them back up, but the animals bulled their way out—the huge vurlaks, the saber-toothed shikes, the slinky, black ki-tens. Behind us, the guards ran into a seething mosh of teeth and claws. We couldn’t outrun the sound. Horrible.

Unfortunately, there were more guards where those came from. As we started up a spiral staircase, a squad spotted us and surged after us, their spear points poking at our heels.

I popped out onto the next floor, banging Sai’s head on the doorframe. He moaned. “Sorry, Sai.”

Lhan was panting beside me. I wasn’t exactly fresh myself. Sai felt like he weighted a fucking ton. There were barrels stacked by the wall. I tipped one on its side and rolled it into the stairwell just as the first guard reached the top. He went down twice as fast as he’d come up, and took his buddies with him. It sounded like a whole kitchen full of Revere Ware bouncing down a hillside.

Finally, at the end of a long hall, we saw a big loading area, with crates, barrels, cages, props and pieces of scenery, including what looked like a fully functioning warship, oars and all, stacked up along both walls, and at the far end, a huge doorway, big enough to drive a double-decker bus through, with beautiful, dazzling sunshine pouring through.