AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Wisely,” Ivan said.
Fleshmancer Andre did not try to control his curiosity, scuttling across the blue tiled floor. The city guards crowded around the warrior in his antique armor, tense and wary, but Andre showed no hesitation. He poked and prodded the armor, then the man’s exposed cheek. Ulrich grimaced, thrashed his head, and snapped his teeth as if trying to bite off the fleshmancer’s fingers, but Andre was nimble and snatched them away. “Skin is stiff and hard, still partially faded.” He looked up. “Good news, Wizard Commander—your spell is only partially faded, hmmm?”
“Good news, indeed.” Maxim did not sound the least bit pleased. “Let’s hope it doesn’t happen again.”
Quentin tapped his fingers on the table, accusing Avery. “You bring a fully armed enemy into the duma chamber, Captain? Why didn’t you strip him bare?”
“We could not remove his armor,” Avery said. “We took away his shield, helmet, and sword, but other parts are still … fused to his skin.”
“His skin is still partly stone as well.” Andre rapped his knuckles against Ulrich’s bare arm above the spiked band that wrapped his biceps. “Very interesting. It would make him a very tough enemy to kill.” Ulrich flinched, then glared at him, but the fleshmancer did not seem to notice.
Chief Handler Ivan slammed a meaty fist against the stone tabletop in front of him. “He is an enemy of Ildakar. This man intended to overthrow our city, rape our women, torture our children.”
Damon glanced at the sovrena with a disrespectful sneer. “I always thought your son and his friends were foolish to go out and vandalize the statues. Now I think I understand. Perhaps we should have them do more of it. Send out entire crews to smash the stone warriors.”
“Waste of time,” Quentin muttered. “There are hundreds of thousands…”
Still angry, Ivan rose to his feet, his arms bent to show off the bulging muscles beneath his panther-hide jerkin. “Turning that army to stone granted us an unprecedented victory, but it failed to give us a modicum of justice. Now we have one of the enemy in our hands!” He looked around the chamber, scowling at the confused ancient warrior, who was barely able to stand with the weight of shackles. “Let’s throw this one into the combat arena and make him fight. All of Ildakar can watch him be torn to shreds.”
Nicci spoke up, and they turned to look at her, surprised at the interruption. “Interrogate him first, find out what he knows of General Utros’s plans. This is an unprecedented opportunity.”
“For history as well as for the city’s defense,” Nathan said.
“Another waste of time,” Quentin said. “How could his knowledge possibly be relevant after so many centuries? Emperor Kurgan is long dead; the army is stone.”
“Besides, he is just a foot soldier,” Damon added. “He would know nothing.”
From her own experience, Nicci knew that foot soldiers often understood many details that others didn’t realize. This ancient soldier would have kept one of Jagang’s interrogators busy for months, and the questioning would not have been quiet or peaceful. Not only did they need to understand why the spell had dissipated, but she imagined all the intelligence even this mere foot soldier could provide. To discard him seemed a waste of resources to her.
“Ildakar is a peaceful city,” Maxim said. “We know little of torture and interrogation techniques.” He sniffed. “Better that we use him for something else. Like the arena.”
Ulrich stood in his chains, filled with confusion, his face a knot of anger. “I will fight whatever you throw against me. I will fight all of you in the name of Iron Fang.”
“At least it would be something, hmmm?” Andre said. “I agree with the suggestion.”
“If the petrification spell is faltering, then we may be in great trouble,” Maxim muttered, troubled. He tapped the left corner of his lip as if it helped him think. “We have to eliminate this anomaly and make sure the weakness doesn’t spread.” He nodded at the sovrena. “Yes, I agree. Send him into the combat arena for another great exhibition. Chief Handler, do you have something interesting to throw against him?”
“I always do.” Ivan narrowed his hooded eyes, as if the wheels of his mind were turning.
Thora agreed. “Summon the citizens. We will give them a spectacle unlike any they have seen before.”
* * *
The hot sun shimmered on the sand of the combat arena. The merchants, tradesmen, gardeners, tailors, and craftsmen dropped their daily work, closed up shops and smithies, and hurried to see the fight. General Utros had nearly destroyed their city centuries ago, and that ancient army was more hated than any other. Now that one of the stone warriors had broken free of the petrification spell, they would have a chance to see justice served. They wanted to watch that enemy soldier defeated, slaughtered.
Deadly combat had been a part of Ildakaran culture for as long as the city had existed, and the people seemed to enjoy it as a release of their increasing frustrations and anger. Now that Nicci witnessed the tensions brewing among the populace, she wondered if this was the duma’s calculated plan to direct unrest toward a specific target and distract them.
Nathan followed her into the nobles’ observation tower as the crowds gathered with a drone of voices and jostle of bodies. Splashes of colorful fabric and furs among the wealthier patrons stood in contrast to the drab brown garments in the lower seats, clearly delineating the classes of spectators.
Through the grace of Maxim, Nicci had been invited to sit on one of the high platforms again. On the other side of the stand, Thora was closely attended by Avery, although not because she needed his protection.
Nathan continued his conversation with Andre, but the fleshmancer seemed preoccupied by this unusual reanimated warrior, no longer thinking about restoring the wizard’s gift. “We will work on it, my dear Nathan. There’s no hurry, hmmm?”
The burly Norukai slavers also came to watch the bloody combat. Kor and his muscular, scarred companions jostled for seats in the lower levels, shoving spectators aside and claiming benches down at the edge of the arena among the lesser workers and unwashed slaves.
Sovrena Thora had invited the Norukai to sit among the nobles in the high observation seats, but Kor spurned the offer. “I want to see the sweat, smell the blood, and hear every grunt of pain. We might learn something we can bring back to King Grieve. This is the sort of amusement he might like.”
Deeply disturbed, Bannon worked his way up to join Nicci and Nathan. “Sweet Sea Mother, it’s shameful,” he said in a low voice. “When Ulrich awakened, he was lost and confused, and he asked me for help. Amos lured him to the city walls with promises, but as soon as we brought him through the gate, the guards seized him. He’s going to be killed!”
“He is their mortal enemy,” Nicci pointed out, “A warrior from the army that tried to destroy Ildakar.”
“That was fifteen centuries ago!” Bannon said. “He’s no threat anymore.”
“Maybe not a threat, my boy,” Nathan said, his lips turned down in a frown, “but for millennia, the people in this city have been seething over Emperor Kurgan’s plans to rule the world. They have seen that army of half a million warriors turned to statues. This is their first opportunity for revenge.”
“It’s still not right,” Bannon muttered.
“No, it is not,” Nicci agreed. “There is much about Ildakar that isn’t right.”
Men in sleeveless tunics hammered on gongs with a crashing metallic clamor that drove the spectators into silence.
From the top of his high stand, the announcer cried out in a booming voice, amplified by magic, “Today Ildakar will witness an execution, and not an easy one.” The crowd muttered until
the speaker drowned them out again. “An enemy from the past shall receive the punishment he deserves—the punishment they all deserve! He will die in our combat arena.”
The crowd began to cheer, hiss, and boo, venting their emotions, ratcheting up their hatred.
Wizard Commander Maxim seemed entertained, while Sovrena Thora was pleased to channel the citizens’ anger in an appropriate direction. When the spectators in the lower benches rose up for a better view, the people behind them also had to stand, triggering a ripple of motion throughout the crowd.
The Norukai down at the lowest level leaned forward. When one man stood up and got in Dar’s way, the raider knocked him off the edge. The man tumbled down into the pit and scrambled back to his feet on the sand. In panic, he gaped at the opening gate and jumped, clawing for the rim, which remained well out of reach. His friends reached down to grab him, hauling him up and out of the way before the ancient warrior emerged.
The cheering shifted to grumbles as the reawakened warrior marched onto the combat sands. Ulrich moved sluggishly in his antique lapped armor, which was still dusted with gray from stone that had not yet been restored. He held his curved sword, which had been returned to him for the fight. He strode into the arena, moving uncertainly. He looked up at the crowds, still disoriented. Their mutters turned into a chorus of angry threats.
Ulrich stepped to the middle of the sands and turned to stare at the high platform where the wizards sat. He bellowed, “What do you want of me?”
“We want you to die, you fool!” said Maxim, and then giggled.
Elsa sat next to Nathan, primly holding her hands on her purple skirts. He said to her, “Where is Chief Handler Ivan? I would have thought he’d want to watch the combat.”
“He is down in the arena,” she said, “where he can manage the beasts.”
Remembering the combat bear, Nicci felt a chill. “What beasts?”
Down on the sands Ulrich turned as a second gate opened.
Nicci stiffened as she saw three tawny and muscular felines. The troka of sand panthers bounded out onto the fighting field, looking much like Mrra, their hides branded with spell symbols to make them impervious to magical attacks.
