Page 26 of Gladiator Moon

I get the sense that the young prince is enjoying all this. Probably the first time in his life he’s ever flown or even been out of the arena.

“I can’t let them hurt her,” I say.

“So what? She’s just a wood sprite.”

“She’s a living creature.”

“Yeah, so? Everyone dies.”

“But she doesn’t have to die today and so gruesomely.”

“But the Dark One prefers gruesome. More blood!”

“Well, not her. And not today.”

“But why?”

“I like her. She’s cute and spunky and wants to live.”

“But she tried to kill you.”

“She was forced to fight, like all your warriors are.”

“Some like to fight. Then again, I am told it is all they know. For some, it is a great honor to fight for my father.”

“Well, I think these fights are cruel.”

A similar popping sound erupts as we reenter the arena. The waiting net is still there, though already fading from existence. Below it, half a dozen guards have the little wood sprite stretched out on the pitch. Heavy iron chains pin her tiny wrists and ankles to iron stakes driven deep into the ground. She fights like a cornered hellcat, hissing, kicking, and biting anything foolish enough to come within reach.

Refusing to fight is, of course, a capital offense in this godforsaken place.

With the prince still dangling from one hand and my ice sword in the other, I bank hard, slip through a widening gap in the dissolving net, and dive.

The guards scatter like field mice beneath a hawk. My ice sword flashes once, then twice, and the iron chains fall away in pieces.

I toss the ice sword aside and scoop the little warrior up by her ankles. Just like before, she immediately goes limp, her body relaxing into that strange trance I’d accidentally discovered. Her wrists, upper body, and legs remain bound, which isn’t such a terrible thing, considering her temperament when awake, but at least she is no longer staked to the ground.

A royal prince in one hand, and a slumbering wood sprite in the other.

Not exactly how I pictured my morning.

I beat my wings hard, climb past the royal box once again, past the king and queen and high wizard, and angle toward the shrinking opening in the magical net. We burst through and soon out through the dome as well.

“Whoa!” the prince shouts, twisting around to look at me. “You really are crazy!”

I can’t help but smile. “You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.”

Chapter Eight

The slumbering wood sprite awakens in a bad mood.

She suddenly kicks violently, surprising me enough that I nearly drop her. Next, she jerks violently, fighting me and demanding that I turn her around. I could be transporting a possessed, talking worm.

“Best be careful, my little friend,” I say. “You really don’t want me to drop you, though I suspect you’re semi-immortal, like the elves of my planet. Yes, let me turn you around. Hang on.”

With my other hand occupied with the prince, I am forced to use my foot to brace her as I adjust my grip, crawling my fingers along her legs, then back, until I grip her by the chains along her neck.

“Better?” I ask.