Will Wight - Of Dawn and Darkness

Petal tossed one more charge under Urzaia’s bed, and then raised both of her small fists triumphantly.

A second later, the supervisor turned to her. “Get away from him. Over here.” He knelt to pat her down, businesslike and professional. “I hope you took the Pilgrim up on his rites, Woodsman. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

Calder had no idea who this man was, but he spoke as though he knew something Urzaia didn’t. In the meantime, his subordinate had finished with Andel and moved on to Calder. He was in for a disappointment, as Calder had nothing suspicious on him.

His shoelaces were invested weapons, and he could kill a man with them given enough time. But nothing suspicious.

Urzaia raised his eyebrows at the supervisors words. “If it is twelve men and I must fight without my hatchets, that is not a surprise. I have done that already.”

The supervisor snorted, but said nothing else. Seconds later, he stood. “We’re done. Woodsman, we’ll see you on the sand.”

The two guards marched the crew into the hall, leaving Urzaia alone.

With half a dozen alchemical munitions under his bed.

The crew had to rise before dawn to make it to the arena in time to ensure seats, which meant that Calder had a grand total of three hours sleep. None of the others were much better off, except for Jerri, who for some reason was looking forward to the day with endless enthusiasm.

“Jerri, since you’re chipper this morning, sound us off.”

“With pleasure! Petal, you’re first up.”

“Checking the charges,” Petal whispered.

“Foster?”

“Oversight,” he grunted. “I’m on the closest guard.”

“Andel?”

“Backup. I have a seat on the opposite side of the arena, and I will signal Foster if I notice something wrong.”

“Cheer up, Andel, all you have to do is watch the fight! I, on the other hand, will close off the staircase as soon as the match begins.” Calder pointed to himself and said, “And then what, Calder? Why, thank you for asking. Once the fight is over, I will be the one to detonate the charges.” Technically, Foster or Petal should be covering this job, but he didn’t feel right leaving it to someone else. In the worst-case scenario, he could take full blame for the plan.

The Emperor needed him alive, or the thousands of goldmarks he’d sunk into The Testament ’s construction would go to waste. If Calder went before an Imperial court, he’d likely get off with nothing more than a swollen debt.

Which would be painful enough, but anyone else would be executed or imprisoned for life.

“And if something goes wrong?” Jerri asked, as though delighted by the prospect. She could roll out of bed bristling with energy. Calder, on the other hand, currently wanted to knife someone.

“Andel signals Foster, Foster signals Petal and me, I tell you,” Calder said. “Or we all notice and run.”

“What about the charges?” Petal asked, then shook her head. “The extra charges.” The ones they’d left with Urzaia.

“The arena can keep them,” Calder said. He and Andel had considered and discarded half a dozen different plans for retrieving them, but in the end, it was less dangerous to leave them where they were. They wouldn’t spontaneously explode, and unless someone was stupid enough to light them on fire just to see what would happen, they were no danger to anyone. The risk was that some guard would stumble on them and call off the fight, or increase security. So long as that didn’t happen, they were clear.

As soon as they bought their tickets and headed into the arena, Calder could tell something was wrong.

Seven Magisters waited in the arena—one for each section of spectator seating, and one in the Imperial box. They were in the process of attaching small bronze shields to the outside of each section, facing the arena.

“What are those?” Jerri whispered to him.

“Invested protections,” Calder whispered back. “They might be Awakened. If they think they have to protect the audience in addition to all the Intent already invested into the arena, then they’re preparing for something big.”

“What is it?”

“I’d need to get closer to be sure, which means we’d have to wait until the Magisters are gone.”

Only the Magisters didn’t leave. Petal scurried down the far staircase, checked both of the primary charges and the two backup charges, and then settled into a nearby seat. Andel grabbed his own seat at the end of the arena, Foster sat directly underneath a guard tower, and Calder and Jerri found seats together next to the victor’s stage.

When they first arrived, there were only a scattering of other spectators. Two hours later, the stadium looked full. Two hours after that , and Calder realized he’d been wrong before; only now did he understand what ‘full’ really meant. It was somehow even more crowded than it had been the last time he was here, as though they’d squeezed out all the air and replaced it with people.

At least it wasn’t as hot as it had been last summer, so he didn’t have to bake in the scent of sweat.

Jerri shot Calder a parting smile as she squeezed past him and a small family to slide into the staircase. The match would start soon, and when it did, she needed to clear the stairs as soon as possible.

If she didn’t, anyone in the way would die in their explosion.

Finally, after what felt like a night and a day of waiting, the crier made his way onto the arena sand. At the mere sight of him, the crowd lost all reason, and the coliseum shook with a sound like a berserk beast.

“LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND GOOD CITIZENS OF AXCISS!” This time, the crier didn’t only rely on the acoustics of the stadium, but raised an invested horn to his lips. His words boomed out, easily cutting through the noise. “TODAY, WE HAVE A TREAT INDEED FOR YOU! ALL THESE YEARS, YOU’VE SEEN ONE MAN TRIUMPH AGAIN AND AGAIN OVER STAGGERING ODDS! ONE MAN—IZYRIA’S VERY OWN WOODSMAN!”

At the mention of Urzaia’s name, the crowd erupted again, until it sounded as though Calder stood in the middle of a great battlefield. It did nothing but give him a throbbing headache on top of a night’s worth of exhaustion.

“BUT I’M AFRAID, GOOD CITIZENS, THAT THE ODDS TODAY ARE TRULY IMPOSSIBLE. FOR TODAY THE WOODSMAN FACES NOT MEN, BUT A CREATURE FROM MYTH AND THE NIGHTMARES OF THE ELDERS THEMSELVES! A TERROR OF THE AION SEA! THE DREADED…CINDERBEAST!”

As his speech reached a crescendo, the biggest gate onto the sand slid open. Two Greenwardens, robed entirely in verdant leaves, marched out. They each hauled on a leash…attached to a massive Kameira. The Cinderbeast was coal-black, shaped like a hairless bear or a misshapen wolf, with two spiraling onyx horns above its eyes. Its tail, longer than one would expect, lashed like a whip.

Its eyes were red, swollen orbs, and even from here Calder could practically taste its mad Intent. It growled, scratching at the sand, but its collar was obviously invested. It did not strike at the Greenwardens holding its pair of leashes.

The crier shouted again, embellishing an entry for Urzaia, but Calder didn’t hear it. Even as Urzaia marched into the light, black axes held high, Calder’s mind was whirling.

What now?

The plan called for them to wait for Urzaia’s victory, because after more than five hundred victories in a row, only a fool would bet against one more. Then again, he wasn’t fighting men. He fought some sort of…horned bear creature four times his size. And if it was a Kameira, as Calder was certain it was, then it would have some power over nature. Judging from its name, it might be able to set Urzaia on fire. Waiting for the fight would be ridiculous; they had to rescue Urzaia as soon as possible. So what was the plan? Detonate an extra charge somewhere else, as a distraction, and then get Urzaia up to the victory stage?