Shadow Queen (3 page)

“My friends,” he said, pausing to wait for
the clamor of voices to die to a murmur. “We live in a place of
death. Today, our crops may wither and die. Tomorrow, our families
may do the same. The Pit was made to speed things up a little.” No
matter how many times the grim faced humans heard this speech they
still laughed at each appropriate moment and hung onto each word as
if it were the last drop of ale in the world. “With each new moon,
there is a new tournament, a new set of trials, and a new hero that
will rise from the ashes of his competitors. We all know the rules.
Those who fight must fight well. Those who fight well must conquer
or die. After all, we are a people with literally nothing left to
lose. Yet there is so much for us to gain.”

Three hunched over goblins, all waiting for
Fryx’s cue, scrambled from their places and hauled large black
sacks to the base of the podium. They opened the sacks and let the
gold pieces skitter from the openings like blood spraying from a
slit throat. Astrid tightened her grip on the balcony’s railing at
the sight of so much gold in one place. No matter how many times
she had snuck a peak at the fights in the Pit, the vast winnings
always took her breath away.

“The prize is great for those who prove
themselves worthy,” Fryx said, briefly twirling a strand of curly
blond beard between his fingers. “My friends, are you ready to
witness history written before our eyes?” He raised his arms once
again to the tiers of blood thirsty peasants. Their voices cried
out in one loud savage rumble in reply. “Are you ready to see
blood?” The thunder of their screams shook the very dust of the
earth. “Then let us begin!”

Down below the contestants were being led one
at a time into the Pit. The first to go in was a warrior covered
from head to toe in dented metal armor. He carried a long knotted
spear which he raised above his head in response to the cheers of
the crowd. It took a moment for Astrid to realize that he what he
was wearing wasn’t real armor at all. His was covered from head to
toe in pots and pans of various size, all lashed together with
black leather ties. On his head was a lopsided cauldron with two
uneven eye holes cut into its coal black belly. A bright red beard
stuck out the bottom like a limp hanging flag of his dwarven
heritage.

“Oh gods,” leered a nearby man missing the
entire top row of his teeth. “Look what stumbled out of the
kitchen!” The surrounding audience roared with laughter.

Astrid leaned over the twisted railing,
trying to catch a glimpse at the other competitor. A squat
shirtless man with leathered skin hobbled down into the rocky dirt
arena. He had the slanted eyes of a sea dweller but it was obvious
from the scars along his back that he had seen too much battle to
be a mere merchant. Astrid guessed him to be a pirate, probably
competing in the trials on a whim, or worse, because of a lost
bet.

The pirate held duel cutlasses. Each had a
jagged spike at the end of the handle, perfect for stabbing with
one hand and slicing with the other. He paid little attention to
the crowd, which caused them to quickly erupt into a chorus of boos
and to shower down the spoiled bits of their lunches. A blackened
hunk of cabbage hit him in the back of the head. He let it roll off
his skull like a summer rain. Astrid couldn’t help but smile at his
indifference.

The two competitors stood far apart, studying
each other for any signs of weakness. The pirate spat into the dirt
and began to pick at his blackened teeth with his long yellow
fingernails. The dwarve roared and clanged at the cauldron on his
head with his gnarled spear, trying to intimidate the sea dweller
like a rabid dog chained in its master’s yard. With a grunt, the
pirate spat again, only this time the yellow glob landed inches
from the dwarve’s thick stubby boot. Astrid expected the dwarve to
forfeit the trial by running the pirate through before the fight
officially started. Instead, he stood clutching his spear in his
rocky fist. The sounds of murmuring could be heard echoing from
inside the cauldron.

A pale blue goblin with a nervous tick stood
in attendance on the podium cowering next to Fryx’s cushioned seat.
The sea dwarve waved his pudgy hand at the goblin, beckoning him to
step forward. The goblin stumbled forward and raised a twisted
black horn to his lips. He blew a sharp sour note until his lungs
wheezed their last bits of air, making the wretched sound fizzle
out like a damp match. Fryx took a small golden hour glass from his
breast pocket and delicately sat the device sand side up onto a
small wooden table cluttered with bowls of cheese and grapes and
half empty wine goblets.

The dwarve charged at the pirate with his
spear extended, ready to ram it through the little man’s abdomen.
The pirate ducked and tumbled out of the way. He landed back on his
feet as graceful as a cat. He glared at the dwarve over his crossed
cutlasses, waiting patiently for the next charge.

It took some time for the dwarve to realize
he had missed his mark. He finally turned and charged again at the
pirate. This time the little man used his cutlasses to redirect the
spear deep into the ground. The force of driving the spear into the
dirt made the dwarve stumble forward onto his face. Yowling like an
alley cat, the pirate sprang onto the dwarve’s back and slashed at
the dented armor with his cutlasses. He moved so fast, the blades
were a blur of glinting metal from where Astrid stood leaning over
the edge of a faraway balcony. She debated jumping down and helping
the pirate finish off the obnoxious dwarve.
No,
she thought
as the crowd booed and hollered at the conquering sea dweller,
there has to be a better moment. If I can gain the favor of the
crowd, I’ve already won half the battle.

Suddenly the dwarve’s back bucked and flung
the pirate off as like untamed stallion throwing its rider. The
peasants exploded into cheers and vicious laughter. The man with
the missing top row of teeth snorted and elbowed his companions in
the ribs. “Well look at that,” he said. “Apparently our boy isn’t
finished cooking up trouble after all!”

Astrid expected to see the dwarve’s back to
be shredded and bloody. However when he rolled onto his feet the
baking sheet armor fell from their cut tethers and crashed into the
dust, revealing an unscathed canvas shirt underneath. Somehow the
dwarve’s armor had been thick enough to spare him from the pirate’s
savage blades. Not a single pinprick of blood could be seen on the
milky cloth.

The pirate scrunched his brow in a deadly
squint, clutching the cutlasses hard in his fists until veins
bulged and snaked across his arms. This time he was the one to
charge.

He drove the unsuspecting dwarve back into
the dirt wall of the Pit, pinning him against the rocky bits of
earth with his savage cutlasses like the horns of an angry beast.
The dwarve, seeing that he was quickly running out of options, did
the only thing left to do in his position. The dented cauldron
crashed forward into the pirate’s face, loosening the sea dweller’s
grip on the hilts long enough to stumble away from the dwarve.
Blood spurted out of the little man’s nose. The crowd lost
themselves in hysterics.

“Compliments of the chef,” said the
half-toothless man, throwing a wink to a withered hag he had been
eyeing between blows. Astrid felt her stomach sour at the thought
of the two blowing kisses at one another while blood was being
split below.

The dwarve stumbled forward, brandishing his
spear and growling. Though the pirate was injured and weaponless he
still had agility and speed on his side. The sea dweller dove
between the dwarve’s stumpy legs and sprinted to where his
cutlasses were left sticking out of the dirt like the buck teeth of
a giant.

Right as the pirate plucked the blades out of
the Pit’s wall the goblin attendant sounded the sour horn signaling
the end of their trial. The two combatants froze in their steps,
each desperately awaiting their judgment.

Fryx rose from the purple cushions and spread
his arms, welcoming the hoots and yelps of the crowd. “My friends,”
he said, a warm smile teasing his painted lips, “how have these two
warriors faired? Who deserves to continue to glory? Is it our
friend, the sea dweller?”

To Astrid’s surprise a good portion of the
peasants yelled in favor of the pirate. Humans were always so
unpredictable.

“Impressive,” said Fryx. “But what about this
brave dwarve here?”

Again the crowd roared, equally as loud as
before.

“Oh my. It appears we have a tie.”

“TIE BREAKER! BRING US A TIE BREAKER!” The
half-toothless man screamed again and again until the crowd
screamed along with him. The hag had scooted closer and was now
whispering something scandalous into his sagging ear.

“Tie breaker is it? Bring out the tie
breaker!” Fryx clapped his hand, snapping his attendants into
action. Smooth blue faced goblins scattered from their posts.
Murmurings from the crowd buzzed in Astrid’s ears, each person
voicing their own opinions on what Fryx will have brought out this
time. Bets were being placed and replaced. Astrid shook her head at
the humans scrapping the bottoms of their pockets for spare change
while their starving children tugged on their cloaks for a scrap of
food.

Ethen poked his head over Astrid’s shoulder,
his face split open in an enormous grin. If she hadn’t seen his
cloak bobbing up in the crowd of the balcony a few seconds earlier
he might have actually been able to sneak up on her.

“It’s about time you showed up,” said Astrid,
trying her best to make space next to her along the cluttered
ledge.

“It’s complete insanity up here, in case you
haven’t noticed. I thought you would have made your debut by now,”
he said, squeezing through to the splintered railing. “Have you
changed your mind? I wouldn’t blame you if you had—”

“—No, I haven’t changed my mind.” She jabbed
him hard in the side to make her point. “I’m just waiting for the
right moment.”

“And just when will that be?”

Astrid’s answer was cut short by the sour
noted horn. The Pit was divided into the actual arena and the
entrance ledge where Fryx’s attendants stood flanking his towering
podium. Behind them stands a fence made out of tall wooden spikes
bleached to the color of old bones. In the middle is a curtain of
thick black velvet, similar to a stage’s curtain. It was this
curtain that everyone was staring so intensely at. A large bulge
had formed against it, pushing through the black cloth, like a
beast emerging from its evil womb. The giant head of a snarling
troll slipped through and howled long and low, sending shivers down
Astrid’s spine. Ethen gasped from beneath his hood. The curtains
parted and a heavy collar could be seen encircling the troll’s
thick neck. Nearly a thousand gasps followed from the crowd. Lyell
appeared through the cloth, a rattling chain clutched in one hand
and a roaring torch in the other. A group of goblins followed,
edging the troll along with their own torches. Astrid could see
Lyell smile as he watched the troll wince away from the flames.

“What are they doing? Are they crazy?” Ethen
frantically tugged at his cloak as if it were about to fly off his
back. “This is only a trial! A trial! What the hell are they
thinking? No one’s supposed to actually
die
during a
trial!”

“Quiet,” said Astrid with a hiss. He was
right, she knew that, but she couldn’t think with him buzzing away
like a bee in her ear.

The competitors seemed equally surprised as
the rest of the crowd. They cowered before the troll, mere toys in
the presence of a destructive child. While the dwarve’s expressions
were a mystery, the pirate, however, didn’t even try to hide the
look of ripening horror on his face.

Lyell released the chain from the troll’s
collar and gave one final heave of the torch into the creature’s
backside. The stony skinned troll toppled into the Pit, sending
both dwarve and pirate scrambling to get away. The impact rumbled
the arena and surrounding buildings like a star fallen from the
heavens. Astrid clung to Ethen’s arm as the balcony swayed beneath
their feet. A cloud of dust bloomed and rushed above their heads,
encasing them in a dingy brown haze. On the tier across from Astrid
a small girl slipped from between the railing and disappeared in
the darkest part of the swirling storm below.

Astrid felt her heart stop dead in her chest
as her eyes strained to see past the cloud of dust stirred up by
the troll’s landing. She didn’t know how she had managed to catch
sight of the girl falling, but Astrid was sure if she had seen her,
someone else must have, too. Yet no one screamed for the lost
child, or even called out for her. Her mother was most likely one
of the humans throwing their money away on lost bets, if she had a
mother at all.

The troll howled again, rumbling the arena
like thunder. The smothered cry of a child drifted up through the
dust.

With beady eyes blinking, the troll’s head
peaked up out of the settling dust cloud. His back was to Astrid.
She knew now was her time, more than ever.

“See you on the other side, brother,” she
said, springing from one well-placed foot on the railing, arms
spread wide, and a long, dangerous hunting knife in each hand. She
could hear Ethen’s gasp echoing far behind her.

The force of colliding against the troll’s
rock solid back shook Astrid to her core. She could feel the fleshy
crunch of her blades sinking into the troll’s tree bark skin. The
troll cried out and cranked its stocky neck over its slumping
shoulder to see what was causing it so much pain. The dust had
cleared enough for her to see the two warriors shielding themselves
from the thrashing of the troll’s long tree trunk arms, swinging
like limp maces in the hands of a drunken knight.