Scars covered much of the one-time warlord’s skin, but Keraal had far fewer visible injuries than she would have expected. Someone must have been giving him magical healing in preparation for his next match. He looked worn and weary, though, anticipation for the battle only a faint flicker in his eyes. His ears were down. He didn’t respond at all to the crowd’s cheering or to the closing of the gates behind him.
“He looks like a knife that’s been sharpened too many times,” Ashi said in her ear. “I don’t think Tariic likes that he’s still alive.”
Ekhaas looked up at the warlords’ box. Tariic barely seemed to be watching the arena, but she caught him in a glance, and in that glance was anger fit to kill. She remembered what Geth said about Tariic choosing Keraal’s opponents. “He’s got one more chance to kill him,” she said.
“He’s fought a tiger, an ettin, bladedancers and berserkers,” said Ashi. “What else can Tariic throw at him?”
The answer came from the announcer’s speaking trumpet. “Keraal fights the Five Homas, hunters of the Talenta Plains!”
“The Talenta Plains?” Ashi asked. “Halflings?”
The gates opposite Keraal shuddered and jerked as something on the other side bumped them in its eagerness for combat. Ekhaas felt her throat clench, partly in amazement, partly in involuntary anticipation of inevitable bloodshed. “No,” she said, her voice feeling thick. “Not just halflings, I think.”
The gates shuddered again, then were forced wide as Keraal’s opponents emerged. Those gathered in the arena fell into a stunned silence-then shouted even louder than they had for Keraal. “Rond betch!” gasped Ashi.
“Khaavolaar!” said Ekhaas.
Halflings, yes. The same size as goblins, though with finer limbs and human-like features. And five of them, dressed in leathers painted in bright pigments, embellished with colored stones, and stitched in elaborate patterns. Their hair, coated with some kind of pale clay, rose in wild ridges and matted clumps above the bone masks that concealed their faces. Their weapons were glaives-wide, sharp blades pointed like a spear, edged like an axe, and set on long, curved poles.
They were mounted on the great lizards of the Talenta Plains, all of the creatures decorated like their riders so that it was difficult to tell where the shimmering colors of scales ended and vibrant paint began. Four of the halfling hunters rode lizards as tall as a hobgoblin that strode upright on their hind legs, powerful heads balanced by a thick tail. The beasts’ forelegs were small and grasping, their jaws terrifying, but their hind legs were the danger. They were massively muscular and the great toe of each foot carried a heavy claw as sharp as a sickle. The lizards prowled out into the arena, heads darting and nostrils flaring.
The fifth lizard came out more slowly. It was big, nearly twice the height of a hobgoblin in the length of its body alone, and easily twice that again from the small hook-beaked head on its lowslung neck to the tip of its long, powerful tail. A double row of bony plates rose from its back, but the beast had weapons as well as armor: the massive tail ended in a cluster of four long bony spikes. Its rider, nestled between the plates over its shoulders, used a small hook on the butt of his glaive’s shaft to prod the giant lizard just behind its skull. The creature raised its head as far as its neck would allow and let out a rumbling honk. The other four lizards answered with whistling shrieks imitated by their riders.
“What are they?” Ashi asked in awe.
“Clawfoots and a daggertail,” said Ekhaas. “Halflings may not put a lot of imagination into naming things, but they go straight for the important details.”
“They look hungry!”
“They likely are-the clawfoots at least. The daggertail eats plants.”
“Khyberit ghentis.” Ashi shook her head. “Keraal can’t fight all of them, can he?”
Down on the arena floor, the lone warrior seemed to be thinking the same thing. Ears flat back against his head, he watched the halflings and their mounts just as they watched him. The announcer gave the audience a moment longer to drink in the sight of the magnificent lizards, then shouted through his speaking trumpet, “For the honor of Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor and the glory of Lhesh Tariic-begin!”
Keraal let his chain slip down his arms, then whirled it up into a shield of spinning, flashing metal. The clawfoot riders urged their mounts forward with kicks and piercing whistles. They spread out to the sides of the arena as the daggertail lumbered to take a position closer to the center. Its rider prodded at it with his long goad, turning it around so the powerful spiked tail could be brought into play. It looked nervous to Ekhaas. All of the lizards did, in fact. One clawfoot rider even seemed to be struggling with his beast. Keraal shifted a few paces to the left, then back again as if gauging the reactions of his opponents.
Then he moved, sprinting at the nearest clawfoot on his right. The rider whooped and the clawfoot surged into a long leap, thick leg muscles bunching and releasing to send it high. The crowd in the arena gasped in unison and even Keraal looked startled. The lizard’s terrible claws slashed down, but Keraal dived to the ground, throwing himself away in a spray of bloody sand. The clawfoot missed him, instead landing in a heavy crouch. Another clawfoot leaped, forcing Keraal to scramble across the sand on all fours with his chain dragging behind him. The halfling on the daggertail laughed wildly and his mount’s tail slapped the ground-nowhere near Keraal but enough to intimidate even Ekhaas. They were toying with him, she realized, keeping him off-balance and weak. The other pair of clawfoots stalked closer. The first halfling whooped again and his clawfoot leaped Keraal flung himself aside once more, but this time as he rolled, he whipped out one end of his chain so that it wrapped around the clawfoot’s leg. In the same moment that the lizard landed, Keraal came up to his knees and jerked back hard on the chain. Pulled off balance, the lizard bleated like a sheep and smashed forward. Its rider swayed in the saddle, momentarily stunned-long enough for Keraal to free his chain with a flick of his wrist, turn, and send the chain arcing at another rider. Halfling and lizard both ducked instinctively, but neither was Keraal’s target. His chain tangled around the shaft of the halfling’s glaive and Keraal yanked it out of his hand. Another fast tumble across the sand and Keraal rose with the weapon in his grasp.
The crowd howled in approval. With a flip and a twist, Keraal wrapped the chain around his torso and gripped the glaive-sized for a halfling but still useable by a hobgoblin-with both hands. Three of the four clawfoot riders were circling him now. It was impossible for Ekhaas to see their expressions behind the bone masks, but they no longer seemed interested in toying with Keraal. The hobgoblin had landed the first blow-the downed clawfoot seemed reluctant to get up in spite of the cajoling and curses of its rider.
Then the three circling clawfoots broke and moved back. Those in the stands saw what was coming and their reaction may well have saved Keraal, who turned and lurched to one side as the daggertail’s spikes came swinging at him. He didn’t quite manage to get out of the way. The point of one spike gashed his chest.
But it also caught in the chain wrapped around him and instead of being thrown back to where the clawfoots waited, he was dragged along with the tail. As the tail curved back, he flew free, rolling across the sand and ending up near the daggertail’s head. The lizard’s rider stared at him for an instant, then started to goad his mount into a turn, heavy forelegs smashing into the ground, hooked beak snapping, small eyes wild.
“Plant-eaters?” said Ashi.
“Just the daggertail,” said Ekhaas. She pointed. “Look there!”
The rider of the fallen clawfoot had his mount up again. The creature’s pointed tongue licked at a muzzle covered in sand and the clawfoot might even have pressed itself back to the arena floor if the halfling hadn’t vaulted into the saddle and hauled back on the reins that guided it. The lizard shrieked in protest.