Chainers Torment

CHAPTER 13

Chainer caught sight of the pair from the same vantage point he had first spotted Kamahl. He recognized KamahPs sister Jeska and the dwarf Balthor from the descriptions he had and the fact that they arrived together. Now that he saw her, he thought he could have recognized Jeska as one of Kamahl's kin without forewarning.

She was of medium height and build, but she had Kamahl's blazing red hair and brass colored skin. Where Kamahl's was cropped close to his head, Jeska wore her hair long, braided dwarf style into hundreds of finger-thick strands. Each braid was interwoven with ribbons or hide or polished stones, and she had gathered them all in the middle of her back with a heavy iron clip. Chainer recognized a weighted whip when he saw it, but he was impressed with how casually she wore a weapon that most fighters wouldn't recognize.

She also wore a peculiar metal gauntlet that covered her left forearm. It was etched with runes but unpolished, with two small horns at the wrist edge. It looked like a miniature slingshot, but Chainer couldn't quite credit the whole thing as a weapon. He reasoned it was either a sword baffle or some other sort of protective armor.

Finally, she carried a wooden baton that was intricately carved and ringed with metal. It was about as long as her arm, and it looked extremely solid. Her muscles lied about it, as well, effortlessly concealing how dense the baton actually was. In addition to the decorative metal rings, Chainer guessed the baton also had a metal core to give it extra punch.

Jeska carried herself and her weapons with extreme confidence. Her eyes were focused straight ahead, her jaw was set, and her pace was so stern it seemed more like a march than a hike. She didn't even glance at the dwarf by her side, though he matched her stride for stride and never fell out of her peripheral vision.

Balthor was built like all dwarves Chainer had seen, short and broad and gnarled as a stump. His long beard was split into two equal points that fell to his waist, and he wore an ornate headdress with a large red gem at the center. Instead of a fighting axe, he carried some kind of axe-staff that was neither completely weapon nor completely walking stick.

The strange duo was met at the gate by a Cabal representative and escorted into the arena. Chainer waited until the door had shut behind them before he turned from the window and made his way down to the pits.

Several hours later, an oily-looking fixer met Chainer on the staircase.

"You Chainey?" the fixer said. "Chainer."

"Whatever. Come on, let's go. You're on."

The fixer's attitude annoyed Chainer. "What's the rush?"

"They are. The woman's insane, and the dwarf is really cranky. They say they're going to fight now, or they're going to start wrecking the place."

"So? Turn some stalkers and some hellhounds loose on 'em. The Master of the Games said-"

"The Master of the Games just said you should get your butt down to the main pit." He held out a sealed scroll. "See that? It's official. Now come on."

Chainer stood perfectly still. "What's your name, sunshine?"

The oily Cabalist sneered. "Louche," he said.

"Bet all you have on me, Louche. I can't lose."

"Is that so?"

"It is."

"Thanks, kid." Louche had a sarcastic tone that never wavered. Chainer couldn't tell if the fixer knew he was being misled, or if he just didn't care. He gave up trying to argue with a person who negotiated for a living and fell into step behind him.

Louche led him down the main pit floor. The stands were full, everything seemed ready to go. His opponents waited on the far side of the circle.

"Good luck, kid," Louche said, already distracted and moving on to his next assignment.

"You mean that, Louche?"

"Sure. Why not." Louche didn't even look up as he disappeared into the crowd.

Overhead, the prep horn sounded, and Chainer lit his censer. It was to be a straightforward flag match, two against one. Jeska and Balthor would attempt to take or destroy the simple black pennant that was spiked into an eight-foot-tall mound of packed dirt behind Chainer. Chainer would defend the flag. In this case, that meant he would try to stop them but would fail as convincingly as possible.

In the distance, Chainer heard his match being announced, the usual build-up of the fighters and the standard teasers about blood and danger to whip up the crowd. Chainer scanned the rows and rows of eager faces. The smoke was getting thicker around him, and he fought back a rush of dizziness. "Game on," he whispered. He had to stay focused.

The starting horn sounded, and Chainer's opponents came straight at him. They moved well, but they were terribly out of sync with each other. Balthor strode forward with his head and his staff held high, taking strides as smooth and as grand as his stature allowed. Jeska, on the other hand, was hunched low into a battle crouch, her hands free and empty at her sides. Her baton was ready at her hip, and she kept one hand near it as she stared fixedly at the flag behind Chainer.

"Let's finish this quickly." Chainer heard Balthor's impatience through the dwarf's clenched teeth.

"Just hold up your end," Jeska growled back, "and stay out of my way." They were attacking together, but they were not a team. Chainer decided to exploit that.

As they had no long-range weapons, Chainer waited until Jeska and Balthor were a stone's throw from the mound. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, he shuddered, and he threw his arms out, palm-up, at Balthor. There was a flash of black light, and for the briefest moment a purple ring of energy flickered. Through that ring came a three-foot dragonfly with a scorpion's tail. Its multiple wings buzzed with the fury of a full swarm as it shot high above the arena floor and then dove straight down at Balthor, its stinger poised for the kill. Chainer wanted to test himself against Kamahl's sister, and the dragonfly would keep the dwarf busy. The insect would bedevil and sting until the dwarf hacked at it with his axe or his fists. If he injured it, its sticky blood would spurt and foul whatever part of Balthor it touched.

As Chainer expected, Jeska completely ignored the threat that was ignoring her. As the dragonfly homed in on Balthor, she continued straight on at Chainer. Her movements became much sharper and quicker once the action began, and her approach became more like an acrobat's tumbling run. Chainer ditched the censer and drew his dagger, waiting, his stance inviting Jeska to attack.

Behind Jeska, Balthor stood straight as the dragonfly swooped down on him. The gem on the dwarf's headdress glowed, and red fire leaped from the gem to the blade of his axe-staff. Chainer could see Balthor's lips moving. His eyes were shut.

A blast of flame erupted from the head of Balthor's axe and burned the dragonfly to ash in midair. Chainer stood shocked for just a moment, and then dove forward as another blast slammed into the ground near his feet. Before he could get up off his knees, Jeska was above him and her baton was bearing down on his skull. Balthor smugly crossed his arms.

Years with the fighting chain had given Chainer extremely fast hands, and Jeska had badly underestimated his speed. He caught her baton in mid- swing, threw his weight backward, and tossed her back over his head with an assist from his boot. He held onto her hands, so she slammed painfully into the ground. Chainer released her, rolled, and came up with his hands in position. There was another black flash, and a second dragonfly buzzed out and oriented on Jeska. Chainer cursed for repeating himself. Skellum would never let that go. Chainer pushed the thought of his mentor aside, saw that Jeska had not yet regained her feet, and squared off on Balthor. He scooped his dagger up off the arena floor and dared Balthor to come forward with it.

The dwarf could not blast Chainer with Jeska so close behind, but the gem on Balthor's head was still glowing. The old devil was clearly waiting for Chainer's next casting, so he could blast it to cinders. Chainer kept his hands in front of him to keep the dwarf's attention away from the flag. Instead of giving him a target,

Chainer snapped his arm out and sent a weighted black chain singing into Balthor's headdress. The weight smashed through one of the glowing gem's supports and knocked it off center. The gem buzzed and stopped glowing. For the first time since Chainer had laid eyes on him, Balthor looked something other than haughty. He looked downright nervous, maybe even slightly embarrassed.

"You broke his special hat," Jeska called. "He's going to be furious." Despite the dragonfly darting all around her head, Jeska seemed savagely amused. She was keeping the insect at bay with her baton and a vicious barrage of the most obscene threats and language Chainer had heard outside of the city docks.

Chainer whistled. The dragonfly broke off and hovered in the air between them. Chainer jerked his head at Balthor, and the dragonfly buzzed hungrily toward the angry but still shame-faced dwarf.

"So you're looking for your brother," Chainer said. Jeska was not being drawn in by his stance. She had seen him sling a chain at Balthor from twenty feet away, and she didn't seem eager to let him do the same to her.

"I am. You know where he is?"

Chainer sheathed his dagger, touched his hands together, and pulled a ten-foot length of chain with a smooth, weighted end out of thin air. He held the chain out for her to see, then started it dancing around himself.

"I know where he went," Chainer said.

Jeska maintained her stance, daring Chainer with her baton as he had dared Balthor.

"I guess that means I shouldn't kill you," she said. "Tell me, and we can end this now."

Chainer began to circle around Jeska, his weapon in constant motion. "Let's come to an arrangement, you and I," he said. "I have information you want, you have information I want. If you agree to share, I'll let you walk right past me." He looked around the arena. "After we put on a good show, of course."

"I'm not making any deals with you, Cabalist," Jeska spat. "For all I know, that's what my brother did, and that's why I can't find him."

Chainer flicked the weighted end at Jeska, who easily batted it aside. "He left here free and whole. I can tell you where he went. Will you tell me where he came from?"

Jeska lunged at Chainer with her baton. He ducked under it, and slashed the iron pin out of her hair with his dagger. She looked totally shocked, then angrily shook her braids loose, spun her baton, and charged again.

Chainer snarled the end of Jeska's weapon with his and tried to jerk it out of her hands, but the polished wood slipped free. Jeska spun under the chain and tried to drive the heel of her hand into Chainer's nose. Chainer dodged and then missed Jeska's knee with the weighted end on his return stroke. They traded feints and then held their positions, facing each other.

"Look, barbarian," Chainer said. "A show of faith. Your brother is competing regularly in one of the minor pits to the north. Kamahl is alive and well."

Jeska paused. "What's he doing up north?"

Chainer relaxed but didn't lower his weapon. "Chasing after treasure."

"You mean I've been halfway across Otaria looking for him, and he's not even lost?"

"Seems that way."

"How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"For Fiers's sake, Jeska," Balthor yelled. He was jabbing at the dragonfly with his staff, but he seemed more concerned about preserving the staff than he was about harming the insect. "Stop babbling and finish this! Did you forget the rules of this thrice-damned farce?" Chainer saw realization crowd the anger out of Jeska's eyes. She let out an ear-splitting war cry and heaved her baton at Chainer's head. While he was distracted, Jeska stuck her gauntleted arm straight out and sighted down it like a crossbow at the black pennant. She drew a smooth red stone from her pouch and touched it to the gauntlet between the horns. She spoke one word, and the horns sparked, igniting a thin stream of fire that stretched between them like a clothesline. Jeska drew the red stone back and prepared to release it toward the flag.

"Wait," Chainer said. The gauntlet was a kind of slingshot, and if he didn't act quickly, Jeska would win the match before Chainer had gotten anything out of her. Chainer sent a collar chain slamming into Jeska's wrist and jerked her off-balance, so that she couldn't target the flag.

Pulling Jeska away from her first target was a passably sound pit strategy, but Chainer immediately realized the flaw in his execution. As close as he was to her, once he pulled her off balance the only thing Jeska could fire her slingshot at was him. Jeska barked out an incoherent warning as the red stone flew. In the eight feet of space between Chainer's eyes and the oncoming stone, the missile transformed from a shiny, glasslike bead into a glowing ball of concentrated heat. Chainer's hands proved to be faster than his brain as he jerked his arms up to protect his face.

His eyes slammed shut as a blast of heat burned his eyebrows away. He was temporarily deafened by the explosion, and the pain in his right arm was agonizing. The impact blew him back on his heels, but he didn't stagger or fall.

"Held my ground, gods damn it," he heard his own voice say. He started to sway, his eyes still squinted and unfocused. He could barely make out the old dwarf and the brass girl as they stood, side by side, staring over at him. They were curious, but they were keeping a safe distance.

Confused, Chainer looked at the flag, still untouched. He was helpless. Why weren't they finishing him off or climbing the mound?

"Do you give, Cabalist?" Chainer could see her shouting, cupping her hands around her mouth, but he could barely hear her. He recognized her tone, however, as that of someone who knows the fight is over even if nobody else does.

Chainer reached for his dagger, and a fresh wave of searing pain dropped him to his knees. His left hand seemed fine, but his right felt thick and vague and clumsy. Chainer held his arm up to get a better look at his hand.

"Or not," he said out loud. His right arm ended in a charred, smoking stump. His hand was completely gone, and his forearm now ended two inches below the elbow.

"Damn," Chainer said. He turned his dazed eyes on Balthor and Jeska. He looked back at his mangled arm. With an amiable smile, Chainer raised his arm and his stump over his head.

"I give," he said evenly. Then he collapsed face- first onto the arena floor. The last thing he heard before he passed out was the sound of the horn signaling the end of the match.