Page 55 of Court of Talons

But itwillbring me Gent. Here in the bright sunshine, where I can truly see him with my own eyes, on my own plane. And for that, I am grateful.

The far horns sound again, and the guards urge me on, their cheers more heartfelt than I would have expected. Beneath me, Darkwing races across the field in a blissful bounding gallop, and I feel the warrior band on my left arm burn in sudden awareness of the animal’s fervor. Unexpected laughter surges up within me, suffusing my entire body with its light. Gent will be coming, I think, and Gent loves nothing more than to run and feel the land fall away beneath his feet. He’ll enter this world a hero and he’ll leave it as such, I vow. All of Nazar’s words coalesce in my head, and I bend forward over the horse’s withers, urging him on.

Darkwing needs no more encouragement than that. He surges forward, easily beating Kheris’s mount to the centerof the field, and dances as the crowd roars with delight and laughter. He’s wonhisrace this day. The rest is up to me.

Kheris clearly wasn’t expecting that move, and though he lifts his arm in acceptance of the enormous rolling cheer, his face is already dark with annoyance. “You so quickly want to die, boy?” he shouts at me. The weight of his anger slams into me like a malevolent fist. “I can help you with that, if so.”

“I’m honored to fight you, Kheris,” I shoot back, “Nothing more.”

He blinks, but he can’t find the insult in my words, nor any challenge.

“Then you’ll be equally honored to lose.” He turns his steed sharply, pulling hard at the bridle as the horse fights against it.

I turn as well with a squeeze of my legs, but Darkwing knows his duty. He pivots and trots up to the two wooden towers. It suddenly occurs to me that the towers are all that remain of what I’d seen when I was last on this field, at this place. There are no fighting pits surrounding us, nothing but bare ground.

The attendants help both Kheris and me dismount, and we turn to our respective towers amid more raging cheers from the crowd. Two of my guards stand at the door to my tower, and they nod at me grimly. I give them a rueful smile. “Go easy on my horse. He just wanted to run it out.”

Once again, they start in surprise, and I pass by them, also grateful for my horse’s need to run. It seems to have cleared my head. The guard at my back speaks up. “A moment, Merritt of the Tenth. I’ll take your cloak. To keep you from tripping.” I wait until he pulls the heavy garment from my shoulders and feel lighter still. Bounding up the stairs, I round the series of tight corners and all too quickly find myself at the final door at the top of the platform. The light breaks in around it, and the guard comes up the stairs behind me. He speaks again. “You haven’t been in a tournament before.”

I grimace. It must be obvious to everyone. “I haven’t.”

“You’ll exit and acknowledge the crowd, then stand at attention, facing the Lord Protector while Kheris does the same. When the Lord Protector gives the signal—he’ll lift his arm—you’ll lift your left arm high and cross your heart with your right. When he drops his arm, summon your Divh.”

Hearing these instructions settles my nerves yet further. “Thank you,” I say, turning around to meet his gaze. “You may only be doing your job, but there are many ways to do one’s work. Yours is appreciated.”

He might have said something in return, but the door is opening now. I face forward and step into the sunlight.

Chapter 22

The crowd’s roar jangles my ears, and I follow the guard’s directions exactly, nearly blown back by the second roar when Kheris takes his position. I hadn’t realized how well I’d be able to see him, but he strides confidently onto the platform, taking the exultation of the crowd as his due. When he turns to honor the Lord Protector, his gaze sears me across the open space between us. I find myself suddenly glad that warriors don’t fight with their fists, as Nazar keeps saying, but with their minds.

The Lord Protector says something, and I rivet my gaze to the top platform, though in truth I can’t focus only on Rihad. Fortiss stands there as well, his face placid as he stares out at the crowd. He doesn’t look down at me, and I suppose that’s a blessing. He probably also expects me to lose.

Irritation sears through my gut, turning that river I’m supposed to be flowing along into fire.

Lord Rihad lifts his left arm high into his air, and mine shoots up as well. I can feel the fiery band clenching tighter around my arm. I curl my right hand into a fist and lay it against my heart. I can suddenly hear the pounding of my blood in myown ears, but unexpectedly, it isn’t rushed. It’s slow, like water falling over rocks.

Gent,I think in my mind, feeling the wind in my hair as we raced through the blue mists of the training field.Gent.

A far distant roar of joy greets my words.

Lord Rihad drops his arm.

The first thing I see is the coliseum, but not with my own eyes. Instead, I am far above it, staring down, the people screaming like so many field mice in their strange?—

I shake my head, hard, and am once more back in my body. I yearn to turn and see Gent in the sunlight, but my feet stay rooted to the platform, my breath hitching in my throat.Focus.

Kheris faces me now, his hands lifted in preparation for a strike. And then I look behind him with my human eyes to see the monster roiling at the far end of the field.

I blink.

Kheris’s serpent is everything Nazar had warned me of and more. Broader than the Tenth House manor, it’s impossible to tell how long it is because it hovers and darts and retracts and hisses all at once. Its hood is flared wide, and I see how it seems to leap up far enough to fly—it has hooded sacs all down its body, like flaring gills meant to catch the wind. It eyes the far end of the field with interest. Behind me, Gent lets out an almighty roar that drives the crowd’s cheers to a fever pitch.

But I know Gent a little already, if not his roars. As I shift back to his view, I feel the confusion in his mind. He’s never faced a monster like this. He surely didn’t expect to be attacking it when he came here today. He merely wants to run.

The serpent shoots forward. It moves with blinding speed, and my thoughts flow into command as clearly as I can make them.Run, Gent,I urge.Run fast!

In my mind’s eye Gent surges forward, but I don’t have to rely on a mental picture of him for long. I feel the shuddering ofthe earth and hear the pounding of his feet on the tournament field. As he shoots by me, I gasp at the sight of him—so much taller than I’d imagined, his long arms flowing behind him as he bends forward. Not only because he wants to make them into wings, with his silver hair flowing over dark green hide, but because his hands are bristling with long claws that click together heavily, a dead weight. Another claw sprouts from his elbow in a thick gnarl of bone, and his body seems bulkier now as well than when I’d seen him in his own plane.

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