Swords of Waar (32 page)

Then the matador killed it.

There were no fancy dance moves or cape flapping. The guy just dodged and ducked until he could get behind the maku’s head and cut its throat. But the fun wasn’t over yet. As soon as the thing was dead—and sometimes even sooner—he started skinning it and cutting it up into its various parts, all of which got thrown into various piles—legs over here, head over there, carcasses in the middle, guts behind, skins to the side—blood everywhere. There were huge, six-foot mounds of steaming, bleeding meat behind each of the matadors, and they were rising higher every second. As soon as a guy finished sorting his meat, he gave a signal and the guys in the middle let another one out. It looked like they were counting which guy slaughtered the most in the shortest amount of time.

It was so horrible it was hard to tear my eyes away. I mean, I know that’s pretty much what goes into making my bacon cheeseburgers, but making a sport out of it, hearing everybody cheer when another one of those big dumb beasts went down gushing out its life blood? It made my stomach curdle.

“There they are!”

With a grunt of relief, I turned and looked where Lhan was pointing, and saw Paar-Il and some other hick Dhans sitting in a private box with the Aldhanan way at the top on the other side of the arena. The Adhanan was dressed like a Dhan now too, only with a domino mask to hide his face, but there was no way you could miss that jaw.

I sized up the guards standing at the foot of the stairs that led up to the boxes. They were tough-looking hombres, and we weren’t going to get by them with a laugh and dirty joke, but maybe we could sneak up to another box and—

“Priests!” Beside me, Sei-Sien was suddenly pointing like a bird dog at a duck hunt. “And disguised as Flames! Infamy!”

Lhan and I turned. Sei was staring at the box to the right of Paar-Il’s, where a bunch of guys were pulling up the hoods of their cloaks. One of ’em had a face I knew.

“The high priest! Duru-Vau!”

Lhan glanced at the box on the left left of Paar-Il’s. It was packed too. “And more on the opposite side!” He edged back. “Come, we must find a way to warn the Aldhanan before they—”

“Murderers! False priests! This is not the church I love! I will slay you all!”

Lhan and I froze as the little poindexter Yal-Faen ripped Sei-Sien’s sword from his hand and started running full tilt around the arena with it, screaming at the top of his lungs.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

ASSASSINS!

T
he crowd was too busy watching animals being skinned alive to notice Yal-Faen, but that beady-eyed little fucker Duru-Vau saw him right away. Then he saw me and Lhan. Then he waved to his men.

The disguised priests moved like they were one big, multi-legged animal, swarming over the railing and swinging around the little dividing walls into Paar-Il’s box, swords out, while more kicked in the door at the back and poured in that way.

“Yal! You dumb-ass!”

I charged after the accountant, rage rising and heart sinking. The stupid goober had ruined everything! Somewhere behind me, I heard Lhan shouting.

“Sei-Sien, take the priest back to the cart! Go!”

I didn’t hear Sei complaining, and I didn’t wait for Lhan to catch up. There was no time. I kicked off Yal-Faen’s back and launched into the bleachers, sending spectators diving every which way.

Up in the VIP box it was dire. There had been about ten guys standing guard around the bigwigs, and they had at least kept Paar-Il and his guests from dying in the priests’ first wave, but they hadn’t lasted long, and now it was Paar-Il and his Dhans and the Aldhanan who were fighting the fake heretics. They were doing a fuck of a lot better than any politicians back home woulda done, but it wasn’t enough. They were still outnumbered three to one.

I leapt a rail to the next bank of bleachers and kept going. Three more jumps and I’d be there.

“Stop her! It is the giantess who kidnapped the Aldhanan’s daughter. Now she’s helping the heretics kill Paar-Il!”

I looked around in mid-leap. Aur-Aun was running out from a ramp to my left and pointing at me, a gang of priests—for once dressed like priests—at his back.

With all the cheering and the shrieking of butchered maku, it had taken the arena until now to realize something was happening up in the boxes, but what with my human flea routine and Aur-Aun’s shouting, they were catching on fast. All of a sudden, people weren’t diving out of my way anymore. Instead, they were all screaming bloody murder and grabbing for me. I felt like the beach ball at a rock concert.

I shoved at a beefy guy who had a hold of my left calf. “Get off! I’m the good guy! I gotta go save them!”

He wasn’t listening, and neither were the rest of them. There were twenty hands grabbing at me now. I was swamped, and Aur-Aun and his little orange buddies were closing in. Goddamn it! I didn’t want to hurt these people, but I had to get through. The Aldhanan was fighting for his life up there. I could see blood on his arms, and under his mask.

I grabbed Beefy by the belt and swung him around at everybody else, smashing them back like meat bowling pins. I was in the clear, but just for good measure I heaved the fat fuck at Aur-Aun and his pet priests, then took off again without bothering to see if I’d connected.

Two more leaps and I vaulted over the rail into Paar-Il’s box, slashing around like a weed wacker. The fake heretics were busy butchering the Dhans and went down like—well—weeds. I cut the legs out from under three guys on my first slash, then beheaded another guy on the backhand. The rest turned to face me, and I tore into ’em like a steel tornado, snapping swords, chopping off hands, smashing rib cages as, behind them, I saw Paar-Il and the Aldhanan fighting back to back.

“Hang on! I’m coming!”

But then I wasn’t.

As I hacked down another two priests, I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye and glanced around just in time to see Duru-Vau step over the rail from the box to the right and stare right at me with his mild little eyes. He didn’t have a weapon and he was fifteen feet away, so I put him on the back burner and was turning back to my fight, when the little pip-squeak thrust his palm at me like something out of Five Fingers of Death and I flew backwards across the box like I’d taken a cannonball to the tits. It felt like it too. My skin was tingling and my heart was hammering like I’d touched a live wire. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t feel my hands or feet.

My mind hurt worse than all that combined. The little fucker hadn’t touched me, and yet he’d knocked me on my ass and fried all my circuits. How the fuck do you do that? I’d seen a lot of weird-ass shit since I’d showed up on Waar, but I’d always been able to put it into the science fiction category—alien technology, super science, whatever. This was straight up wizards and witches shit! He’d hit me with a fucking death spell!

Then I had some more down-to-earth death to worry about. All the guys I’d been chopping up started charging forward, ready to chop me up, and I was a long way from doing anything more than remembering how to breathe. I felt like I’d been tazed. Fortunately, Lhan chose that moment to throw himself over the railing and drive ’em back.

“Mistress, can you stand?”

I tried. I felt like I was made out of rubber chickens. “What the fuck wuzzat?” Even my tongue was rubber. “Little prick jus’ hit me with a lightnin’ bolt.”

“A Gift of the Seven.” Lhan blocked another stab, but they were forcing him back now. “Divine power granted by the gods to their most devout.”

“Shure packs a helluva whallop.”

I made it to my feet, though I felt like I was standin’ in a rowboat on a stormy sea, and saw Duru-Vau cocking back for another death strike. I beat him to it. Somebody’s helmet was on the ground, with a lot of blood and hair still sticking to it; I scooped it up and hurled it at him over Lhan’s head.

It was a sucky throw, and didn’t come within a foot of him, but he was balanced on the railing and jerked back when he saw it coming, and next thing I saw was his sandals kicking up in the air as he took a header into the cheap seats.

I was still moving like the Vicodin had just kicked in, but at least I was moving, and plowed into the guys who were driving Lhan back. I couldn’t swing in a straight line, but a six-foot sword doesn’t have to be precise to be scary, and I had ’em ducking and blocking while Lhan took care of the actually hitting them part.

Five seconds and five corpses later they’d had enough and broke for the exits, and Lhan and I charged for the Aldhanan—way too fucking late.

Paar-Il was face-down in his own blood. The Aldhanan had a sword through his guts, and a cut on his neck that was never going to heal. He was still up, still hacking at four last priests, but he was weaving like a two AM drunk.

The guys he was fighting were trying to pull the water token satchel from his shoulder. Lhan and I hacked two of ’em down and the other two fled, diving over the rail, and it was just the three of us. The Aldhanan turned on me, snarling and slashing, so much blood in his eyes he couldn’t see. I blocked the cut and backed up.

“Aldhanan, it’s us! Jane and Lhan!”

He checked his swing and stumbled against me, wheezing through the hole in his throat. “Mistress Jae-En, we are betrayed. We…”

I caught him before he fell, then sobbed as his knees buckled and he clutched at me. “Oh, god, Lhan, this can’t— We… I shoulda run faster. I shoulda—”

The Aldhanan’s sword dropped from his hand. I lowered him to the ground. The world was all swimmy and blurred. Tears were splashing on his face as I leaned over him, making little holes in the blood.

“Hold on, sir. Please don’t die. I’ll find somebody who can fix you up.”

But I knew it was a lie as I said it. There was no fixing all that. Not on this stupid fucking backwards planet. Not without EMTs and a medevac. Goddamn it! Why did I ever come back to this shit hole? I—

The Aldhanan gripped my hand. “Mistress, Lhan, listen to me.”

I wiped my eyes and leaned in. “We’re here. What is it?”

“Protect my daughter. And her… f-fool of a consort. It will not go… well for them, now I am… gone.”

I wanted to tell him he should find somebody who hadn’t just failed to save his life, that I was the wrong person for the job, that I sucked in every way possible, but he was fading fast, so I just squeezed his hand. Lhan did too.

“We’ll do our best, sir. I promise.”

“Aye, Aldhanan. Of course.”

He was dead before we’d finished.

My throat closed up like a giant was choking me. “Goddamn it, Lhan. Goddamn it all to hell.” My lip started to quiver and the tears came again, I was shaking so hard. “I fucked up. I didn’t save him. I should have—”

Then Yal-Faen pulled himself over the rail and looked around. My grief turned to rage in a hot second. I grabbed for my sword and stood up, staring at him like a can of Raid stares at a roach.

“You little puke. You did this.”

I started toward him, sword raised, but behind me, Lhan gasped, then grabbed my arm and pulled me back, pointing to the stairs at the back of the box.

“No, Mistress. The priests come, with a wand. We must fly. Hurry! To the roof!”

I pulled away, snarling, and raised my sword, but Yal-Faen was staring past me at the body of the Aldhanan, a look of horror on his face.

“What have I done? What have I done?”

“You killed him. And now I’m gonna kill—”

A blue-white light stabbed out from the stairwell.

Lhan jerked me aside. “Forget him, Mistress! Go!”

I staggered back as orange shadows swarmed in the stairwell and another blue bolt sizzled into the box. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to cut Yal-Faen in half, then chop through the priests until they gunned me down, but then Yal-Faen looked up at me, and his eyes were more steady than I’d ever seen them.

“There is no need to kill me. I am already dead.”

And with that he turned and charged, howling and hacking like a berserker with the sword he’d stolen from Sei-Sien, just as the priests spilled into the box.

Lhan tugged my arm. “Now, Mistress! The roof!”

I backed to the rail as Yal-Faen went down swinging and bleeding like a fountain, then looked up. There was a tile roof overhanging the box. It was an easy one-hand vault. I pulled myself up, then reached down, but Lhan was looking back at the Aldhanan.

“Lhan! What are you doing?”

He dodged back to the corpse, snatching up the box with the water tokens, then charged back to the rail and leapt up.

“Stop them!” Aur-Aun’s voice.

I heaved Lhan up just as a blue beam passed through where he’d been standing and crackled out across the arena. I wanted to shake him.

“What the fuck?”

He slung the token box over his shoulder, his face like granite. “We cannot allow his cause to die with him.”

The last thing we heard as we raced up the slant of the roof and over the peak was Aur-Aun shouting like the hero in a bad play.

“By the Seven, it is the Aldhanan! In disguise! Those heretic assassins have killed the Aldhanan! After them!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

OUTLAWS!

I
kinda thought Sei-Sien woulda got while the getting was good, but he was waiting with Ru-Zhera at the cart just like Lhan had told him. Unfortunately, the dumb-ass hadn’t had the foresight to turn the fucking thing around, so we were gonna have to cut a tight turn to make a run for the street. And the timing was gonna be tight too. As we jumped on and Lhan grabbed the reins, the entire arena flowed out after us like a tsunami wave.

“Go go go!”

“But, wait!” Ru-Zhera grabbed Lhan’s arm. “Where is Yal-Faen!”

“Dead. Killed by the priests.”

The old priest choked, but Sei-Sien only had eyes for the crowd. There were priests in the middle of it now. “By the One, what happened?”

“The—the Al—the Ald—” I couldn’t get it out.

Lhan took over. “The Aldhanan is dead. We were not in time.”

Sei-Sien stared. “The—the Aldhanan is dead?”

“Impossible.” The old priest was shaking his head. “Impossible.”

I felt the same. How could a guy so alive be dead? It didn’t make sense! If only I’d insisted that Lhan leave Yal-Faen and the priest behind. If only I hadn’t let those spectators slow me down. If… if… IF!