A solution was reached, apparently. The Swordmaster approached her, shaking his head. “Unheard of,” he said, “The crowd wants you to miss the last ordeal of combat with human warriors. They demand that you face the Black Demon—and His Majesty has concurred. The new Khisihn, for some reason, disagreed, but the Khisu has prevailed.”
Aurian pulled herself upright, and looked Eliizar in the eye. What a farce! she thought with some irritation. My fate hanging on a Royal quarrel! “All fight,” she said resignedly. “Bring on your Demon.”
A tear ran down from Eliizar’s one good eye, as he embraced Aurian briefly. “Farewell, bravest of warriors,” he said. “I am sorry it had to end thus. May the Reaper be merciful to you.” And he was gone.
Thanks for cheering me up, Eliizar, Aurian thought rue fully. The westering sun beat down on the back of her neck as she waited. Flies buzzed, hovering around the blood that trickled stickily from her wounds. The crowd was hushed now— expectant. Aurian took one unsteady hand from her sword hilt to wipe the sweat and dirt from her face. She was desperately thirsty, but told herself sternly that that was the least of her worries. What was this Demon that they all seemed so afraid of? What form would it take?
A rumble of wooden wheels echoed in the tunnel mouth. A great iron cage, pulled by a dozen strong slaves, was wheeled into the Arena. As the cage halted, one slave darted up and pulled out the thick iron pin that held the door shut, then scurried away with his fellows as fast as he could, into the safety of the tunnel mouth. The wooden gates boomed shut behind them, sealing off the only exit. Aurian waited. The thick bars of the cage were set close together, preventing her from seeing what was inside. A dark, shadowy shape stirred restlessly within.
There was a sudden, rumbling roar that made the earth tremble beneath Aurian’s feet. A blood-freezing sound, full of fiiry and menace. The crowd shrank back, buffeted by the noise. Then slowly the cage door swung open, its metal hinges screeching—and a huge black shape with eyes of flame flowed lithely down onto the sand. A great red mouth opened in a snarl of defiant challenge, exposing curved ivory fangs longer than the Mage’s hand, Aurian gasped, and her hands tightened on the hilt of her sword.
The Demon was a great cat, larger than Aurian could have imagined in her worst nightmares. Twice the length of a man from nose to tail, it stood as high as her waist. Its yellow eyes blazed like fire as they fixed on their prey. Slowly, deliberately, it began to stalk her, its claws like great steel scimitars gleaming against the bloody sand,
Aurian planted her feet firmly and lifted her sword, her heart sinking, her fear sending that same heart banging wildly against her ribs. How could anyone hope to fight such a. creature? How could she fight it, hampered as she was by injury and exhaustion? Then her eyes met those of her foe, and with a sudden shock, her mind touched the mind of the massive cat. It was intelligent! Or rather, she. A Queen—the matriarch of her own people—captured, humiliated, and bent on vengeance!
The Mage gathered her scattered wits and reached out with her mind. “Wait,” she said.
“Why?” The reply was loaded with derision, but Aurian sensed the astonishment concealed beneath. It was coming closer—too bloody close—almost within pouncing distance, Aurian was almost glaji that her injured leg prevented her from running—almost. She tried again. “I’m not your enemy. I am a captive, too.” Steady, Aurian. Don’t plead. “All men are my enemies.”
“I am not.” The Mage kept her mental voice firm. “The people here are my enemies, too. Why kill each other, when we have the same foes?”
The cat paused with one huge paw uplifted, seeming to consider. Then it fell into a menacing crouch. “You lie!” it snarled. “Die!” And sprang.
But Aurian, a lover of cats, had seen the telltale wriggle of the haunches before it launched itself, and was already diving forward beneath the pounce. She felt claws rake her side like white-hot irons, and heard a yowl of furious pain as her sword point grazed the cat’s ribs. She tried to get to her feet to turn and meet her enemy, but the injured leg collapsed beneath her, then the cat was on her, flattening her facedown in the dirt and knocking the sword out of her grasp—out of reach. For the space of a few heartbeats, neither moved. The crowd held its breath. Again, the Mage sought the mind of her foe. “You’re making a big mistake,” she warned. If her plight had not been so desperate, she would have laughed at her own temerity.
The cat’s cruel amusement flicked across her mind like a whiplash. “Surely,” it mocked. Slowly, very slowly, Aurian eased herself up a little, not even daring to spit the sand from her mouth. Like a searing brand, the great claws raked lightly across her back, shredding her leather vest and scoring the tender skin beneath. Antian cried out in pain, unable to stop herself, but she had achieved her goal. Her right hand was now beneath her, groping for her dagger that she had stolen back from Eliizar and had concealed, inside her vest. The cat had unwittingly helped her by all but annihilating the garment, and the long, flat blade slid easily into her hand.
Suddenly a mighty swat from a huge paw knocked her rolling, over and over; the beast was playing with her as a per cat plays with a mouse. This time Aurian landed on her back, a sharp catch of pain hampering her breaching. Her ribs? Or the child? Unable to place the location of the pain, Aurian felt a jolt of fear. The great cat leapt on top of her, tensing its claws to disembowel her—and froze, the tip of the Mage’s dagger pricking its throat.
Aurian stared into the fierce golden eyes, only inches from her face. “Stalemate, I think,” she said. There was no reply, but she caught the faintest flicker of doubt behind those blazing eyes. The crowd, to a man, was on its feet—waiting. Aurian forced herself stay calm, to take the gamble. “They say that if I slay you, I will win my freedom,” she told the cat. “Have they offered you the same? Of course, if I make a move, you may slay me—or you may not be quick enough.”
The cat growled menacingly. Aurian’s thought cut through the sound. “You have nothing to gain from my death but a quick meal—and I assure you, you’ll find me very tough.” This time the cat seemed to respond to her humor, relaxing a fraction. Aurian pressed her point home, “But what if we refuse to kill each other? Do you think we could fight our way to freedom? If not, we could certainly take a lot of them with us into death. What have we got to lose? Do you want to stay here, caged and captive for always?”
“Men are not to be trusted.” The cat’s tone was flat.
“Very well.” Aurian had been hoping it wouldn’t come to this. She looked once more, frankly, into the cat’s eyes, “You must decide that for yourself. But you are the most beautiful, the most brave, the most magnificent creature I have ever seen. I would be your friend, but if that is not possible, I will not be responsible for your death.” Moving with careful deliberation, she removed her dagger from the cat’s throat and flicked it away from her, sending it bouncing and skidding across the sand.
The crowd gasped. For a moment, everything was still— then the cat opened its huge jaws, its long, lethal fangs gleaming white in the sun. The Mage flinched and closed her eyes against the sight of her approaching death—but at the last second the great head swung to one side, and a rasping tongue like a steel file licked the oozing blood from the wound on her arm. Aurian opened her eyes in astonishment, and the cat’s golden gaze met her own. “My name is Shia,” she said. “Drink my blood, and be Friend.” She backed away slightly, removing her weight from Aurian’s body, Murmurs of confusion welled from the crowd,
Aurian sat up weakly, unstrung with relief. Placing her mouth to the cat’s ribs she licked salty blood, mixed with sand. “My name is Aurian,” she said, “and I am honored.” Then, greatly daring, she reached out her bloodstained fingers and caressed Shia’s broad, sleek head. And a sound that had never been heard before echoed across the stunned Arena—the slow, bass rumble of the big cat’s purr.