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SOME MIRACLES SUCK

T he crowd was disappointed. Despite a triple decapitation, there hadn't been nearly enough bloodshed for their taste. And they were eager for more. They had also been poked and prodded and teased by Bain and Dower, so they were eager to see the two brothers humbled.

Ciro waved to the servant who held the tray, and again a drink was brought to him. Again, he did not offer me any. My throat was dry from yelling, and I would have welcomed a drink of water, but I would have refused anything that could dull my senses. I still had no idea how I would defeat my opponent when I didn't even know what my opponent would be. Man? Woman? Dragon? Or another beast? And besides Ciro, was I even capable of killing?

Dower and Bain entered the arena almost eagerly. There was no need for the guards to tell them where to stand or to even escort them. They took their place in the center of the dirt that was generally free of blood and bowed, waving and winking at the crowd, winning cheers and jeers alike.

Ciro leaned close but never took his eyes off the brothers. "I think you will be impressed. I have a surprise guest for your friends. I really cannot believe my luck sometimes. But a few days ago, this fellow purchased a dragon illegally—a DeNoy dragon, mind you—and abused it. That made him ours to punish. I had planned to save him for our quarterly games, but this was just too good to ignore.”

A surprise guest. That meant the brothers would not be expected to fight each other. That was a relief at least, but I could not imagine who the surprise guest might be. And how would Ciro know this mystery person would impress anyone?

I looked at Tearloch and wished I had some way to warn him, to tell him to brace himself. But then again, we were all braced for something mad.

The door that had opened for the bull opened again. Into the light stumbled a tall man who held his arm over his face to block the sun. Like us, he might have been kept in the dark for days. Maybe the brothers could kill him quickly before his eyes adjusted.

He reached the start of the arena floor and stopped.

Due to the jeering mob, Bain and Dower had yet to notice him. They stood with their hands out, clearly waiting for someone to throw them a weapon.

“We have the most delicious surprise for these two brothers," said the announcer. "A criminal we had planned to save for the next Moonless Quarter. But fate has a funny way of twisting here in The Soundless…”

Tearloch shot to his feet, his mouth agape, his eyes on the mystery opponent. A guard stepped forward and tried to force him to sit, but he shook the man off like a fly. Without warning, he vaulted over the wall and onto the arena floor, running not toward the stranger, but toward the brothers.

* * *

Tearloch…

“Listen to me,” Tearloch shouted as he ran toward Bain and Dower. He wanted to get their attention before they noticed. “Whatever he says, don’t believe him. Do you hear me?”

The brothers looked, blinked, then stood dumbfounded, staring at the older brother they never expected to see again.

“He’s not Huxor! For all we know, this is another changeling. They’ve found a way to read our minds. Believe nothing! This is our opponent, that is all.”

Huxor let his arm drop and looked around the arena. He winced and turned his head to the side, away from the sun, so he could see the men before him clearly. Then his mouth fell open and he started forward again without fear.

“Bain! Dower! You came for me! How did you find me? Fates be praised, I thought I’d never see you again!”

Dower took a step forward but Bain held him back. “Hello, Brother. Or should I say Iphocles?”

Huxor halted. He even managed to look disappointed. But anyone with eyes could tell he was only acting. “Forgive me. I was a fool. This power has given me nothing but heartache.” He shrugged and let his hands fall to his sides. “I want my brothers back.” He noticed Tearloch then. “My old friend!”

Tearloch reached for his sword but found only his belt.

Huxor noticed and came no closer. “I do understand. But remember, it wasn’t me who tried to take Minkin for her power. That was him . Remember? I would never harm our own.”

Dower smiled. “You see? It is Huxor!” Again, Bain had to hold him back.

“Even if it is,” Tearloch said, “we cannot trust him. Iphocles is still in there, still in charge. And there’s only one way to get him out.” He turned and shouted toward the bastard that kept Asper at his side. “Give us weapons! We’ll entertain you! But we can’t spill blood without weapons!”

Ciro came to the front of his fancy box and shouted, “Not your fight! Remove yourself and they shall have their weapons!”

“Not my fight?” He caught Huxor’s reaction, noticed the smirk that appeared and disappeared in an instant. His old friend was well and truly gone. Only the evil of Iphocles remained.

Bain gave him a nod. He’d noticed it too. “Go on, Tearloch. We can handle this.”

“What?” Dower was nonplussed. “He’s our brother! He’s back to himself. If we all fight together, we can get out of this madhouse!” He gestured to the sidelines. “Go ahead, brother. Change Sweetie back so they’ll believe you.”

Huxor nodded. Without hesitation, he reached toward Sweetie and mumbled a curse. Tearloch wouldn’t have been surprised if his big friend turned fully into a bull. But no. The horns disappeared. Sweetie’s shoulders, head, and face returned to their original size. He was a man again.

Tearloch exchanged a knowing look with Bain. The sorcerer couldn’t be trusted. His compliance was only a trick to get them to let down their guards. Yes, he was grateful, but he wasn’t stupid.

Bain nodded once again and Tearloch backed away. Huxor dismissed him as a threat and watched his brothers instead. Once Tearloch reached Minkin and Sweetie, weapons were once again thrown into the arena. Huxor walked calmly to the far side to pick up a long sword. Bain ran to claim two others, along with a grimthorn, then hurried to Dower to force a hilt into his hand.

“Yes, it’s him,” he told his younger brother. “Yes, he was once our kin. But Huxor is only the shell, Dower. Only the shell. We have to kill what’s inside that shell, do you understand? If we don’t, we burn.”

Still in a daze of hope, Dower watched Huxor advance, shaking his arms and stretching his neck, preparing to fight. “You wouldn’t hurt us,” he said, more than asked.

Huxor shook his head. “’Course not. But we must put on a show, mustn’t we? We’ll wait for a distraction, then make a run for it. No one can best the three of us.”

Dower disagreed. “We can’t go without the others. Sweetie and Minkin?—”

“They’ll have to fight their own way out. This time, numbers won’t be a strength but a weakness. They’ll understand. And they’ll have Tearloch.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Bain warned. “That’s Iphocles, lying to you, trying to sound like Huxor. But when did Huxor ever suggest we abandon the others? Never, that’s when.”

Huxor cursed. “Because we’ve never needed to leave them behind before. But this time it’s different. I have to save myself, but I won’t leave without my brothers.”

Satisfied, Dower turned to plead with Bain. “You see? Huxor would never—” The blade coming through his chest prevented him from finishing his thought. He hit his knees, still confused, and thankfully, he collapsed never fully understanding his eldest brother’s betrayal.

“No!” Asper’s cry cut through the cheers, and Tearloch’s watery eyes found her just as Ciro roughly pulled her back to her seat.

Half a dozen guards held blades to his and Sweetie’s necks, rendering them immobile when they both would have rushed onto the floor to end Huxor’s life, with their bare hands if necessary.

Bain was on his own, facing a man they all knew was better with a sword, better with any weapon. Every skill in Bain’s arsenal was learned at the knees of Huxor, Tearloch, and Sweetie. The younger man’s only hope was luck.

And at this point, they might not have any luck left.

* * *

Asper…

Huxor! The man who had killed Demius!

I saw it replay in my mind, saw it more clearly than before. How could I have ever confused that devil for my heartbound?

For Tearloch, I’d abandoned my plans for revenge. But now that creature had wounded Dower, his own brother, cut him down from behind! If that blade destroyed his heart, could he recover? Oh, how they all must be suffering!

Standing behind the wall, helpless with all the blades holding them at bay, Tearloch, Sweetie, and Minkin looked on in anguish. If Huxor killed Bain, and took Dower’s head before he could rouse, he’d be allowed to live. Madness!

Huxor abandoned the sword he’d buried in his brother’s back and took Dower’s weapon instead.

“No emotion, Bain,” Tearloch shouted. “Take your time! Wear him out!”

But Bain’s face revealed all his emotions, his pain, his devastation, and all his hatred for the one possessing his brother. Self-control and patience were beyond his reach. Soon, we would see if that fact would serve or destroy him.

Despite Tearloch’s encouragement, he and Sweetie grimaced while they watched. Minkin closed her eyes, perhaps a sign that she was trying to intervene. Lears and Poole cheered Bain on, their shouts swallowed by the calls of the crowd.

The dueling brothers circled again and again, taking turns attacking each other, neither of them landing a blow. All the while, Huxor’s mouth moved, either casting some spell or trying to distract the other man. He spoke too low to hear.

To everyone’s surprise, Bain suddenly stopped and straightened. He dropped to his knees and the mob quieted.

“I’m sorry, brother,” he said. “I cannot kill you. I cannot spill my own blood.” He tossed the grimthorn away, rested the tip of his sword on the dirt before him, and lowered his head. “Do what you must.”

There was no remorse on Huxor’s face, only the glee of the victorious as he rushed forward, sword raised. Just within reach of his brother, however, he froze, as if he’d come to his senses. Hope sprang in my chest. Had Huxor finally overcome Iphocles?

But no.

The man dropped his sword and stumbled back. One step, then two, then he fell like a tree…with the end of Bain’s sword seated under his chin.

Tearloch and Sweetie might have impaled themselves on the swords poised around them when they jumped up and down, euphoric. Thankfully, the guards stepped back. I celebrated by allowing tears to pour freely from my eyes. Two friends lost. One saved. And no one had killed Tearloch for stepping out of line.

But he was next…