Tin Thoughts (The Downfall Saga Book 2) Page 8

  He carefully picked his way across the sandy floor, avoiding all of the shadowy shapes. He stopped in the same spot as yesterday and looked up at the dais in the stands. It was empty. He looked around the stands, but had no idea what was going on. He stood there, dumbfounded, waiting.

  He walked back across the pit to the entrance where four crossbows were pointed at his chest.

  “Don’t come any closer.”

  “What’s going on? I thought I was fighting.”

  “You’ll have to wait for the Magistrate. Now get back.”

  Donovan stalked back into the pit. He fell into a Vanora to calm his emotions. He kept his sword sheathed to not tire himself, and flowed through the slow movements. He was surprised to find that the few pounds of weight from the sword at his side forced him to make miniscule adjustments to many of his movements. His bare chest glistened with sweat by the time he was done, and he was relieved to feel a gentle breeze flow across the sandy floor. Looking up he saw that the stands were more than half full, and more people were making their way between the rows of benches.

  “This is what they woke me up for,” came a deep, rich voice from near the pit entrance behind him.

  Tulpa was a foot taller than Donovan and weighed nearly twice as much. He wore only a loincloth which allowed him to show off his muscular physique. Scars covered much of his body, but he walked with the brashness of an apex predator that had never met its match. He rested a claymore on his shoulder which he kept readjusting to better show off his muscular arms.

  “You the boy who cried for his mother when he saw blood?”

  Donovan warily watched him, and kept circling away to stay out of the reach of his sword.

  “You do understand that we’re here to fight?” asked Tulpa. “Yet you bring a kiddie sword with you. I’ve faced better men than you, and their swords were like insects stings irritating my skin.”

  He looked down at his chest and began flexing it, much to the delight of the nearby crowd.

  “The Viper’s Pit is my arena. I’ve been bitten so many times that I don’t even notice anymore. Your flesh is soft like a baby’s and their fangs will have no difficulty penetrating deep inside of you. Some of these snakes will kill you before you know it, most will leave you crying in agony, begging for my sweet release.”

  “It’s better that I don’t get bit then,” said Donovan.

  “You’ll get bit alright, but it might not be by the snakes. I’ll give you one chance at mercy. Crawl over here and kiss my feet, and I’ll end it with a single thrust.” He raised one of his sandaled feet out of the sand.

  “I’ll pass, but I’ll make you a similar offer. Crawl over there and kiss that snake on the lips, and I’ll make it painless.” Donovan pointed to a large snake with a diamond shaped head, coiled up on top of a nearby rock.

  They were interrupted by the same well-dressed man from the previous day cautiously making his way across the sandy floor.

  “Take your places,” he hissed as he passed.

  Donovan and Tulpa walked towards the dais, Donovan leaving a wide berth around each snake he passed while Tulpa completely ignored them. When he found a nearly snake free area in front of the dais, Donovan looked up and saw Magistrate Rach sitting on a large chair. An old man, dressed all in black, with a long grey beard, sat in the center of the dais.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat for you this morning. You may recognize the cowardly boy with the tattoo on his chest from yesterday’s festivities.”

  The crowd erupted in a loud chorus of hisses.

  “He watched an honorable man, fighting for his freedom in this very pit, slit his own throat to escape from the agony of the mortal wound that had been inflicted upon him. Today he is back to face the justice of Tulpa.”

  The roar of the crowd was palpable in the air. Donovan felt dizzy from the sheer force of their cheers. It took several minutes for them to quiet down again.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, there is more. At stake today is not only the life of this monstrous boy, but also the lives of his two wizard friends.”

  Two figures, heavily shackled with black hoods tied tightly over their heads, were led out into the pit by fifty soldiers.

  “That’s right. Once Tulpa is done dispensing justice on the boy, you will witness the execution of these two fiends.”

  Two soldiers holding ropes tied to Donovan and Tuff yanked on them, causing the two of them to fall. The soldiers continued to periodically yank on the ropes as they escorted the two sightless men back out of the pits.

  The well-dressed man quickly dodged past the snakes and left the pit.

  Donovan turned back to the dais and saw the old man studying him, a slight smile on his face. Casually, he lifted his arm into the air and let it drift down to his side.

  The crowd erupted, and the ground shook.

  Tulpa walked towards Donovan, sword still resting on his shoulder. Donovan circled away, his gaze darting back and forth between Tulpa’s hulking form and the pitfalls lurking on the ground.

  Tulpa stopped his advance and motioned for Donovan to attack him.

  “Let’s see if that sword of yours can draw blood,” said Tulpa.

  Donovan glanced around, trying to figure out why Tulpa had changed tactics. His eyes drifted upwards and he saw a glow in the sky directly behind where Tulpa stood. It was only a matter of time before the sun crested the top of the stands, at which point it would obscure Donovan’s vision if he stayed where he was.

  Donovan circled to the left, and Tulpa side-stepped to cut him off. He tried this several times, but it was clear that Tulpa was planning on waiting for the sun to make an appearance before taking the offensive.

  A glance behind showed that the far stands were already bathed in the glow of the morning sun.

  Donovan drew his sword and advanced towards Tulpa. Tulpa swept his sword horizontally in front of him, forcing Donovan to back out of its path. Donovan’s only chance was to quickly close the distance between them, but Tulpa surely knew that as well, and wouldn’t make it easy for Donovan.

  Donovan changed the grip on the sword and his stance, hoping that he could lull Tulpa into a false sense of security. Donovan repeatedly feigned various advances, all destined to fail, but Tulpa saw right through the ruse and barely reacted.

  “This isn’t my first kill,” said Tulpa.

  “You won’t be killing anyone today,” said Donovan.

  Donovan tried to dart around Tulpa, but he forgot to watch where he was stepping. He heard a hiss, but didn’t even have time to look down before a fiery pain blossomed in his left leg. His sword removed the head of the snake, but the damage was already done. He took several tentative steps. His leg could still support him, but his knee already felt tight.

  Tulpa stayed back, and seemed to be enjoying Donovan’s discomfort.

  “Tough luck,” said Tulpa. “That one is particularly nasty. First you’ll feel pain, and your leg will start to swell. Then you’ll begin sweating uncontrollably. You’ll experience numbness in your face, and your vision will blur. Finally ... well you can guess what happens after that.”

  Donovan thought he could feel each symptom appear as Tulpa listed them. He paused to calm himself, before preparing to charge at Tulpa while he still could ... except that was exactly what he would expect Donovan to do.

  Donovan took several steps backwards before stumbling to his knees, his left knee exploded in pain as it hit the ground. Tulpa took several confident steps forward, his eyes momentarily twitched to look at something beside Donovan.

  Donovan turned his head slightly to his left and saw a dark coiled shape in his peripheral vision. The snake coiled its head back before striking. Tulpa tried to time his attack with the snake’s and leapt forward.

  Time seemed to slow. Donovan could see individual grains of sand kicked up by Tulpa’s leap. Donovan’s left arm swung down, his hand caught the snake behind the head, and in one smooth motion he tossed it towards Tulpa. />
  Tulpa brought his arm up in front of his face to knock the snake to the side. Donovan dove into a forward roll. He came out of the roll and thrust his sword upwards into Tulpa’s chiseled stomach without thinking what he was doing.

  He froze in shock as he looked into Tulpa’s widening eyes. His heavy sword fell to the ground, narrowly missing Donovan on the way down.

  Steadying himself, Donovan withdrew his sword and stood up.

  “You should have kissed the snake.”

  He whipped his sword around and sliced Tulpa’s throat.

  He stepped aside to avoid being splattered by gore, and looked up at the figures sitting on the dais. The crowd was absolutely silent as the sun finally crested the top of the fighting pit and shone down on Donovan.

  Magistrate Rach’s face had turned a brilliant shade of red, and he was having an urgent discussion with the old man on the dais, his jowls roiled with his each word he spoke.

  Several soldiers made their way across the pit, crossbows pointed towards Donovan.

  Donovan kept his sword firmly in hand, awaiting his judgement.

  He made eye contact with the old man.

  The old man shook his head at Rach’s pleas, and made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

  The tension left Donovan’s body, and he limped out of the pit on his sore leg, his blurry vision barely distinguishing between the rocks and snakes littering the sandy floor. He held his head back and enjoyed the warm caress of the morning sun on his cheek as the crowd serenaded him with a chorus of heckles as he escaped his fate.

  Chapter 8

  The soldiers escorted him to a bench along the tunnel leading out of the pit. Donovan wearily lowered himself onto its cool surface and set his sword on the bench beside him.

  “Where are my friends?” asked Donovan.

  “They’re perfectly fine and will be released soon. It’s you who should be worried.”

  Donovan tried to focus on the speaker, but his vision refused to cooperate. He couldn’t make out more than a rough outline.

  “I won. That means I’m free to go.”

  “You’ll be free soon enough. You may have won your freedom, but it cost you your life, and we can’t allow a couple of meddling wizards to interfere.”

  Donovan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

  “The snakebite.”

  “The horned viper’s venom is deadly. I’m surprised that you’re still breathing.”

  “How long are you going to keep me here before letting me go?”

  “Didn’t you hear me? It’s only a matter of time before you’re dead.”

  “Don’t get philosophical on me. I won my freedom, now set me free.”

  “Fine. You can choose the spot where you die.”

  The black shape began moving down the tunnel. Donovan wearily stood. He picked up his still bloody sword and slid it into its sheath before following, bracing his hand against the wall as he staggered down the tunnel. Despite what they had told him, he thought he was feeling slightly better. He thought back to the time when his entire body had been severely burnt and had healed itself overnight. He hoped that something similar would happen with the snake venom.

  They led him to one of the buildings many exits.

  “I don’t want to break up a riot, so don’t go outside yet. I’ll be back with the others.”

  Donovan waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore, before sliding down the wall to a sitting position. He stretched his stiff leg out in front of him. He gently probed the swollen skin and was rewarded with a stabbing pain shooting down his leg. Gritting his teeth, he fought to contain a scream.

  He must have fallen asleep, but the sound of voices coming towards him roused him. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before pulling himself back to his feet.

  “Donovan, are you okay?” asked Osmont.

  “Take it outside.”

  They were herded through the door, before it was shut and bolted behind them.

  Tuff took a deep breath of the warm morning air. “Freedom always smells so fresh.”

  “What’s with your leg?” asked Osmont.

  “Snakebite,” winced Donovan. “Horned viper.”

  “You sure?” asked Osmont.

  Donovan nodded.

  Osmont knelt down and gently rested his hands on Donovan’s leg. He held his breath and concentrated on the leg, but Donovan felt nothing. He finally let out a deep breath and hung his head.

  “We need to get out of here, but I want to take a look at Eamon’s house before we leave. You okay to walk?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  Osmont led the way, picking a path through the crowded streets without hesitation. Donovan filled them in on the details of the match as they walked. They paused at the same door that Donovan had used on his first visit with Eamon.

  “I’ll collect our gear and meet you back here,” said Tuff, disappearing down the street.

  Osmont knelt down and peered into the lock. A small amount of light emanated from inside the lock. A moment later there was an audible click, and the door opened. They slid inside and closed the door behind them.

  “Why are we here?” asked Donovan.

  “Eamon seems to be connected to some interesting characters. Let’s see if he left anything interesting laying around.”

  “Surely the guards already searched the house.”

  “I doubt they can even read. They probably sent a few city officials who didn’t know what they were doing.”

  They gave the house a quick tour and found it in ruins. Furniture was upended and papers were scattered across the floor. They found none of the small casks full of the herbs they were accused of smuggling, and the wine rack was inexplicably empty. They returned to the parlor after finding nothing of interest.

  Donovan righted the chesterfield while Osmont prowled around the room, examining the items on the floor. Donovan started to pick up the second chesterfield when he saw a red stain on the floor underneath it.

  “Damn.”

  “Watch your tongue,” said Osmont, crossing the room to see what had set Donovan off.

  Donovan flipped the chesterfield upright and Osmont examined the stain on the floor. He probed it with his fingers and checked to see if any of the blood stuck to them.

  They heard the door open and close. They ducked behind the chesterfield and waited.

  “Where you guys at?” asked Tuff.

  They stood up and saw him laden with all of their bags.

  “Put those down, and come take a look at this,” said Osmont.

  He dropped the packs against the wall and headed over. He dug his finger deep into the stain on the thick carpet, and licked his finger afterwards. “Human blood.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know how you can identify that by taste,” said Donovan.

  “It’s the iron. We dwarves find it in the ground, but you carry it in your blood.”

  “It’s fresh,” said Osmont. “Two, maybe three, days old.”

  “You don’t think that Eamon would have come back, and someone was waiting for him?” asked Donovan.

  “It certainly crossed my mind. I’d expect more blood if he was left here to die.”

  “You sure know a lot about killing.”

  “Comes with the job.”

  “How can you be so heartless after what happened to you?”

  “You mean with my wife?”

  Donovan nodded.

  Tuff burst out laughing and gave Donovan a playful shove on the shoulder. “He’s never been married.”

  “So Jessica ...”

  “Was a lie,” said Osmont. “You were in no condition to fight, so I tried to distract you from thinking about yourself.”

  “You did what!” said Donovan, standing up and towering over the kneeling Osmont.

  “People lie. Welcome to adulthood.”

  Donovan stormed off and stared at a painting hanging on the wall, trying his best to ignore the other two. Glancing around
the room he saw that this was the only painting hanging crooked on the wall.

  “I let the poor murderer suffer as he sliced his own throat,” said Osmont in a mocking tone. “Why isn’t everybody worried about the poor murderer?”

  Osmont and Tuff shared a long bout of laughter.

  Donovan punched the painting of the boy and his flock of sheep. It did nothing but make his hand hurt. On the bright side, his vision had been steadily improving, and he could bend his knee again.

  “There’s nothing here,” said Osmont. “Let’s go.”

  The two of them gathered their packs and headed for the door.

  “Give the boy a minute to cool off,” said Tuff.

  After the two of them had left the room, Donovan grabbed the painting off the wall and smashed it over the back of the chesterfield. He grabbed the paper covering the back of the frame and ripped it into pieces, throwing each piece into the air, when he saw a folded piece of paper which had been stuck between the painting and the backing on the frame.

  Donovan unfolded the piece of paper and saw that it was the map of a heart shaped island with a much smaller island off the tip of the heart. The map showed some rudimentary terrain features of the island. A square had been drawn on a section of the island, and someone had added notes written in Shem along the side.

  He thought that this must be the map of the island his father was interested in.

  “Hurry up, Donovan,” called Osmont.

  Donovan carefully folded up the map and stowed it safely in his pack. He removed a shirt and slipped it on, before slinging the pack onto his back and heading to the door.

  Osmont and Tuff were in the middle of a quiet conversation as he approached, but broke it off when he neared.

  “Heading back to Haven?” asked Osmont.

  “So I can be reminded everyday about how weak my magic is?”

  “It’s the best place to go if you want to change that.”

  Donovan silently gazed at the door. He looked forward to seeing his friends again, but he didn’t want to commit to spending another year at school learning to use his nearly non-existent Gift. What he wanted was to get the Blood Magic removed from his chest so that he could access all of his old memories, and then to track down his parents to find out what had happened to them.