Shadow's Claim (17 page)

“Then convince yourself of this—I will influence the others, telling them that Caspion the Tracker is a
kingdomwide favorite who must be eliminated early. Unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“You vow to grant me a boon, one to be determined later.” He spoke over her sputtering: “And I will not only spare him, I’ll dispatch any competitor you choose.”

“You’re blackmailing me?”

“Consider it . . . bargaining.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“You know I don’t lie.” Leaning down, he murmured at her ear, “Tell me a target, or tell Caspion goodbye.”

She quickly said, “How am I to choose? I want them all gone!”

“Then promise me even more favors. Accept me as your champion, and I’ll rid the entire ring of life.”

After this night’s humiliating procession, she was tempted—with the exception of Cas, of course. But until she determined what type of “favor” Daciano might demand, she’d limit the exposure.

To
one
. Bettina found the serpentine entrants the worst. The mere thought of mating with one of them made her gag. Not to mention the idea of delivering
eggs
. “Fine. I vow to the Lore to grant you a boon, if you spare Cas and dispatch the larger Cerunno.”

Daciano gave her a formal bow. “As you wish.” Then he shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her. “Hold this, Bride.” Such a trivial request, but it made it appear that they were already together. “Naturally, if I have an opportunity in the ring, I could expand our arrangement . . . ?”

“For more of these boons? Forget it.”

“Know that I’ll kill the Horde vampire for free.” At her frown, he explained, “I will require his tent for the duration.” And then he was gone.

Trehan stood within the Iron Ring, surrounded by stands of gawking Loreans, but he focused his mind on what was at stake.

Her. Bettina.

Now, like so many times in the past, he had a sanctioned kill to make. He marked his prey—the Cerunno his Bride must fear above all the others.

Trehan gave a cursory glance over the weapons available: lances and varieties of spears, war axes, maces, swords, and two different types of whips. One was coiled razor wire, the other coated with a viscous layer of oil—a whip of fire. He was a master with all these.

He noted that many of the competitors were studying the placement of the weapons, deciding which would suit their own strengths best. But few were studying their opponents. Fools. Weapon choice depended upon the opponent.

Try felling a Cerunno with a spear and see where that leaves you. . . .

Besides, within moments there would be far more weapons than those alive to wield them.

Trehan made quick calculations. The males most likely to give him any competition whatsoever: the incredibly fast Cerunnos, the other vampire, the three Ajatars, the rabid—and therefore unpredictable—Lykae. The two massive stone demons as well. They
could make their muscles so rigid that blows would bounce off them, as if off stone.

The Horde vampire stared hard at Trehan, no doubt trying to assess his strengths. He would believe Trehan was a weaker Forbearer, a turned human.

Ah, but that ravening Lykae was barely able to refrain from attacking the red-eyed vampire even now. Could he be counted on to keep that Horde lord occupied?

And the Cerunnos? Trehan had stalked them in the past, had observed them in battle. He knew how they distracted your attention with their sword work, while their tails slithered up behind you. . . .

When Raum returned, apparently from arguing with Morgana, he signaled for demon guards to close the enormous iron gate. The other entrants’ muscles were tensed. Trehan’s were relaxed.

I’ve prepared my entire life for this tournament, even if I hadn’t known it—

He felt a vibration beneath his feet. Then another. Footsteps. Something was coming, something with
mass
. A last competitor?

Just before the gate closed fully, a being emerged from the fog, heading for the ring.

Trehan raised his brows as he craned his neck up. And up . . .

The things I do for my Bride.

W
hat—is—that?” Bettina murmured as a giant demonlike creature entered the ring.

He stood well over ten feet tall, with pebbly green skin like a toad’s. He sported not one, not two, but
three
pairs of horns. Rising straight up from his forehead were two slimy yellow ones that matched the color of his slitted eyes; two more capped his muscular shoulders; a third pair jutted from the backs of his elbows.

Fangs protruded up from his bottom row of teeth. A line of mottled tusks jutted down from its chin, like a bony, spotted beard. Lengths of chain crisscrossed his otherwise bare chest, holding up a leather half-tunic like suspenders from hell.

At each step, the packed-clay earth quaked beneath his boots.

Raum bit out a curse. “Goürlav.”

Mutters sounded in the crowd.

—“That’s the Father of Terrors.”—

—“He’s a pre-demon, a
primordial
.”—

—“If a drop of his blood hits the ground, a monster will spring up.”—

Looking furious, Raum said, “For once, the rumors have it right.”

“I don’t understand? What will happen?”

“If anyone so much as nicks one of his veins, he’ll spawn hideous new creatures bent on annihilating anyone who thinks to harm their ‘father.’ ”

Cas was about to be caged in—with that nightmarish being? “Can’t we kick the primordial out? Why wasn’t he in the procession?”

“The procession was just a formality. Someone signed a proxy contract to enter him. There’s no way to expel him, no barring entry to any Lorean.”

Raum’s craggy brow furrowed, sending a chill of unease through Bettina. This was the first look of regret he’d evinced over the tournament.

He’d been so positive that this was the right course—good for commerce, “good to show other Loreans that we’re a free and open kingdom.” He’d waved away all her concerns, and the concerns of the people; Bettina had overheard him assuring his cronies that a demon of some kind would have to prevail.

They’d surely never expected a demon of the primordial variety.

As the gate clanged shut behind Goürlav, Bettina’s stomach lurched. There was so much danger to Cas. Over all their years together, he’d been a lifeline, a mentor, a guide, and a protector. Now Bettina wanted to protect
him
.

But couldn’t. No amber light boiled up from her palms, no destructive sorcery.

She reminded herself how skilled Cas was, how quick.
He’s safe from Daciano. . . .

“Might as well get this over with,” Raum muttered. He gave the signal.

At once, the great horn sounded. The crowd’s roar grew deafening.

Many competitors charged for weapons, and within seconds the clang of steel rang out.

Then came . . .
chaos
.

Blood sprayed as if from moving fountains; bone cracked. Yells of agony carried over the drum of the crowd.

The Volar demon flew above, then dove to strike a fire demon, its razor-sharp talons slicing through flesh.
So reminiscent of the Vrekeners . . .
She flinched and gazed away.

The smaller Cerunno had used its meaty tail to spring up to the top of the cage, coiling around the bars to suspend its body upside down. Swinging like a grotesque pendulum, it snatched an unsuspecting foe up to his death.

Caspion had seized a razor whip, using it to lasso a centaur’s neck. Though the creature kicked and reared, Cas used all his considerable strength to tighten that noose.

“Come on, Cas!” Bettina yelled.

Tighter, tighter . . .

Suddenly the centaur’s head popped off, neck spurting arterial blood. Abaddonae yelled with delight.

And with that one kill, Cas had just become more powerful, a death demon collecting strength.

The Lykae slashed and mauled, biting the throat of its opponent until head and body no longer connected.
The pyromasters hurled balls of flame; competitors screamed as their skin sizzled.

The scent of roasting flesh increased Bettina’s nausea. Any lingering fog in the area evaporated away in the heat.

The other vampire seemed to have Daciano in his sights, but the Lykae began stalking the red-eyed lord, keeping him on the run.

Goürlav? He squatted near one side of the cage, running a knife under his claws, casually cleaning them. Everyone gave him a wide berth.

With cold, precise moves, Daciano methodically cut his way toward the larger Cerunno, which had a crocodilae shifter coiled in its serpentine tail. Though the shifter heaved its body in a death roll, it couldn’t get free.

The Cerunno widened its jaws and struck. Fangs the size of blades sank into the shifter’s thick hide over and over, puncturing its neck until the Cerunno simply pulled the creature’s head free, like a joint of tender meat.

It gave a short victory hiss up to the sky. Mistake. Daciano used that brief second to trace behind it.

The vampire’s sword flashed out so quickly, Bettina didn’t actually see the blade slicing through the air.

The creature whirled around to attack Daciano.

But the movement made its head slide from its sheared neck, tumbling to the blood-soaked ground. Daciano’s sword cut was as clean as a laser incision.

Raum patted her shoulder, startling her. “There, m’girl, that should make you feel better! A Cerunno down. See, I told you this would work out. And look at Caspion.” Cas was easily winning a hand-to-hand skirmish with another demon, and actually looked to be . . . enjoying himself?

Her gaze slid to Daciano again. Sheathing his sword, the vampire traced once more, dodging a spear jab to the back, then attacked one of the storm demons, the one who’d called out those vile things earlier.

With what looked to be a practiced maneuver, Daciano seized its horns; the armored male bellowed and thrashed.

To capture such a warrior in his hold . . . Her lips parted. The vampire’s strength was unimaginable.

Then Daciano cast her a steady, questioning glance, as if to ask,
A boon to be rid of this one too?

Her temper got the better of her as she recalled the demon’s disgusting words.
I’m only here to plow the princess!
Feeling not an ounce of regret, she gave a nod.

Arm muscles bulging beneath his shirt, Daciano shifted his grip. Without so much as a sound—or even a change of expression—he twisted the demon’s head on its neck. One rotation. A second. Then he ripped it free
with his bare hands
.

Before the demon’s head had bounced beside its fallen body, the vampire had already seized a second demon competitor. Another questioning glance at her.

So that was what he meant about expanding their arrangement!

Bettina bit her lip, peering around. How bad could these boons be? Daciano wouldn’t hurt her; he’d proved that last night. She was his Bride, so he’d want only what was best for her, right?

And he might die in tomorrow’s bouts, or even momentarily! How many boons could he collect on before he got killed?

Or maybe she was simply drunk on this power?

Another nod; one instant later, the male was dead.

As she watched Daciano fight—no,
fight
wasn’t the right word; as she watched him ruthlessly execute his opponents, she fully comprehended why Caspion had been certain he would die.

Trehan Daciano’s trade was killing. And he was a master of his trade.

Yet as long as he was doing her bidding, he was like an extension of her—a weapon to be utilized. Oh, yes, the power!

Daciano grabbed the repulsive pus demon—who’d actually made a kill—and flashed her an expression that said,
Well?

She got greedy. Another nod to the vampire . . . then another.

Before she’d realized how deep in she was, she’d agreed to five boons.
I won’t agree to any more. That’s it!

But then she saw Caspion besieged by enemies, teaming up to take him out. Assuming he was a kingdomwide favorite? Daciano hadn’t needed to point that out after all.

One Ajatar had lashed Caspion’s leg with a whip, preventing him from tracing. A second raised a handful of fire, readying to bomb Cas with it.