Page 34

33

ONE PISSED OFF DRAGON

I looked along my row of friends and wondered who would be next. Minkin sat on the end now, but I wished she would be spared. Hestia had funny notions about women. I hoped that extended to The Soundless, but since Ciro was in charge, that hope was probably misplaced.

“Our next criminal is unusual. We don't have many women breaking the law here in The Soundless. But nevertheless, punishment must be rendered. Bring her forward.”

They were going in order! If the pattern held, that meant Tearloch would be next to last, and I could have wept from just that limited reprieve.

I held my breath while I waited to see who Minkin would fight. She had no chance against a dragon; maybe a slow-witted man would be perfect.

At least they hadn't called Sweetie to the arena floor.

Once Minkin was in position, a short sword and a shield were dropped at her feet. Her guard retreated, and she stood alone, only a few yards from where Morrow's blood had spilled.

She picked up the offerings, tested their weight, then waited patiently.

“Considering her size, it wouldn't be fair to make her face a dragon. And it wouldn't be right to make her face a man.”

One of the female DeNoy started making her way down the steps. Her clothes flesh-colored, she was unmistakably the woman who had carried Tearloch, Nogel, and me into The Soundless that first day. She hadn't seemed simple-minded in the least, but even if she were, I didn’t know if Minkin's powers worked against women. This fight might be over even sooner than the last.

Poor Minkin was already backing away!

The DeNoy took her time. She raised her arms and invited encouragement from the crowd, which they were happy to give.

We were all distracted, however, by a commotion at the side of the arena where half a dozen men were trying to restrain Sweetie. There were ropes on his horns and around his arms, but they couldn't get him back into his seat. They had to settle for dragging him to the side and forcing him to his knees.

The DeNoy woman dared to walk his way, and in a loud voice, she promised Sweetie he could be next. "Won't that be romantic, to die by the same blade?"

The monsters loved her.

Still grinning, she headed back to face Minkin, moving with purpose, flaunting her practically nude body.

Again, I held my breath.

She didn't slow until she stood within ten yards of my little friend. Then she tossed her sword aside, which made me think Minkin might have a hold of her mind. But then she searched her belt and pulled out a dagger instead. She took a moment to glance up at her pale dragon before stepping forward and dropping to her knees. She placed the tip of the dagger against her heart…and fell forward.

The monsters waited for the trick to be revealed. But Minkin wasted no time. She ran to the downed body, tossed her shield to the ground and took her sword in both hands. She had to chop half a dozen times to remove her enemy’s head.

Still, the crowd waited, unbelieving.

Minkin dropped her blade and ran for Sweetie. High atop the arena, a dragon screamed. The tan beast spit fire into the sky until its breath was spent. Then it jumped from the black rock and dove for the arena floor, for Minkin.

Minkin’s skirts tripped her up. She hit the ground and rocked onto her face just as the dragon's talons reached for her. They bounced violently against the dirt floor and came up empty.

Up, up, and up, the dragon swooped to the top again. Its talons caught onto the metal grid of the dome and held. It watched Minkin, seething.

Ciro got to his feet and looked for his own dragon. Some communication went on between them and Skullcrusher flew up to join the tan. He, too, grabbed the metal grid and held there while he roared at the aggrieved beast.

Reluctantly, belligerently, the latter cowed to the larger dragon, released its hold, and returned to its perch. Once there, it let out another scream, another stream of fire, but stayed put.

"The little lady lives to fight another day." The announcer sounded as disappointed as the rest of the crowd, but his tone changed back to cheery as he moved on to the next battle at hand.

I was exhausted. I was exhilarated. Minkin had survived! I wanted to run to her, to celebrate with her, but I was stuck in a box with the mad DeNoy.

“Clever girl,” he said. “I had no idea she had powers. What about the others?”

I ignored the question and huffed. “Why am I here? If I will be punished too, why can't I join my friends until it's my turn?”

"All in good time. All in good time."

I gestured to the mob. “They all know I hate you. They can see it in my eyes. Hosting me here only makes you look like a fool.”

He shrugged with one shoulder. “Keeping you here is part of your punishment. And I don't care what these people think. They are…temporary. I am forever.”

I finally understood. "You, your name doesn't go into the collective. Do they know that?” It was my turn to smirk, but my smirk was short-lived.

“Next, we have the bull man. Bring him forward!”

After dragging and fighting Sweetie all the way to the center of the arena, the guards surprised me. Instead of removing the ropes from Sweetie's horns and arms, they dropped them and ran.

No weapons were forthcoming.

At the right end of the arena, opposite Kivi and Lennon, a large door opened and a giant bull, black as night, came trotting out, expectant. Ears forward and alert, it searched the first row of seats, looking for a target.

Sweetie stood perfectly still, waiting for it to find him. His only weapons were his horns. Hopefully, that would be enough.

I didn't want to watch, but I couldn't look away as if I could help Sweetie by keeping my eyes upon him.

The animal made it nearly all the way around the arena before noticing Sweetie. It turned to face him and stopped, assessed.

Sweetie braced himself, and it must have been the movement of his horns that set the bull off. Or maybe it was the smell of blood that still lingered on the ground. In either case, the bull began pawing at the dirt. It snorted and snuffed, lowered its head, and charged.

Sweetie waited until it was mere feet away before he stepped aside. A horn caught on his arm and ripped, causing the bull to spin. When it had its balance again, it searched for Sweetie, who had run to the opposite side of the space.

Again, it pawed the ground, lowered its head, and ran. This time, when Sweetie jumped out of the way in the opposite direction, the bull plowed into the first row of spectators, crushing benches and sending bodies left and right. Some fleeing and others swinging from its horns.

For the first time, I jumped to my feet and cheered.

Ciro grabbed the back of my dress and pulled hard, yanking me into my seat. I folded my hands nicely in my lap, but he couldn't take the grin from my face.

All my friends were grinning too. Even Nogel.

Tearloch and I exchanged a poignant gaze that briefly soothed my heart, then we looked for Sweetie again.

Though the big man had been given no weapons, the ropes still lay in the dirt. He gathered two and tied them together while keeping his eye on the opponent that was more than four times his size. Despite the blood covering his arm, it seemed to be functioning fine.

This time, when the bull charged, it kept its eyes on Sweetie. But at the last second, it lowered its horns to do the most damage.

Sweetie moved fast, hooking his rope around the animal’s horns before turning aside. In the same smooth move, he dropped to the ground and pulled the rope over his shoulder.

The bull's front legs flew into the air, and the horns twisted along with the neck. When it landed on its back in the hard dirt, bones cracked. The beast and Sweetie lay still on the ground. Only one of them was breathing.

Again, I jumped to my feet and hooted with all my might. Ciro didn't stop me because the rest of the crowd was doing the same. I nearly screamed myself hoarse before I resumed my seat, sobered by the fact that another fight was coming.

Sweetie and Minkin reunited on the sidelines and refused to let go of each other. Perhaps they were sobered by the same thought and returned to their seats to see what Ciro had planned next.

* * *

While one of the green dragons took the bull from the arena, the audience was entertained by a dozen dancers that flitted up and down the steps and teased them with colorful scarves and tinkling bells. Magicians came behind them, throwing bright red and blue and yellow papers into the air that turned into tiny birds. The poor creatures flew frantically through the arena, searching for a place to land. When they ventured too near the dragons, they were snapped up by surprisingly agile jaws.

Behind the magicians came women with baskets who passed small dark things out to the crowd. Since no one put them in their mouths, I assumed it wasn’t food.

The dancers, magicians, and basket-carriers filed out of the stands and all eyes turned to the announcer. The man was practically giddy.

“This next criminal is the source of the gift you’ve all been given. Once one of the proud seraphim, his crimes have cost him…” He paused while Griffon’s guards stripped his shirt from his back, then peeled away blood-soaked bandages beneath.

Griffon didn’t flinch.

“Have cost him his wings. Go ahead! Raise them up! Show him your gratitude for your gifts! Who knows what power may lie inside!”

The monsters lifted their hands in the air, each waving a bronze feather. My stomach turned, and I considered puking on Ciro, but he was on his feet, waving his own morbid flag. And I changed my mind. I didn’t want him to suffer. I just wanted him dead.

Down in the dirt, Griffon tipped his head back and closed his eyes. His mouth twisted with what I assumed was emotional pain. Ciro was out-doing himself. An expert on torture. So what would he use to torture me—other than watching my friends fight for their lives, one after the other?

“And now… this villain will pay the rest…”

I split my attention between the door behind Kivi and the one at the other end of the arena from which the bull had emerged. But nothing moved. My chest froze with dread at the thought of Griffon and Lennon being forced to fight each other or die together, because I knew they would choose the latter.

I was only half wrong.