Troy Denning: The Verdant Passage

Rikus screamed, “Help her!”

Agis grabbed the female gladiator’s legs and locked his own feet around the bridge’s handcord.

Sadira fished a piece of silk from her pocket. The sorceress pointed her free hand toward the trees. Flicking the silk at the dragonfly, she recited her incantation. The strand disappeared, and a gooey white web appeared on the insect’s wings. The dragonfly tried to force its wings to beat through the stringy webbing, but it was no use. The creature and Neeva dropped into the gap.

Grabbing the handcord, Agis braced himself. Neeva quickly fell the length of the rope connecting her to the noble, and the suddenness of the rope snapping taut made the noble groan.

Sadira dropped to the walkway and wrapped her arms and legs around the vines. Through the thick tangle beneath her face, she could not see what was happening between Neeva and the giant insect.

Rikus stepped over her, reaching for the noble. It was only then that the second dragonfly appeared above Agis’s head. Its rider leaned over to cast a spell. Sadira screamed a warning, but she was too late. Agis’s eyes fluttered, his head tipped back, and he fell into a magical slumber.

His hold on the bridge gone, the noble slipped over the edge and plummeted after Neeva. When he’d fallen the length of the rope connecting him to Sadira, the noose bit deeply into her flesh. A jolt of sharp pain shot through her abdomen. Though the impact threatened to rip her from the bridge too, the sorceress clutched the walkway vines and prayed she would have the strength to hang on.

Rikus grabbed the dragonfly hovering overhead by the wing. There was a loud crackle and a sound like shredding cloth. The mul pulled the creature’s wing from its body and tossed the mangled limb from the bridge.

As the insect screeched in pain, the rider reached for his dagger. Rikus knocked the halfling senseless, shattering his nose with a casual backfist. The dragonfly raked its claws across the gladiator’s chest, but the mul only gritted his teeth and ripped another wing off the creature.

Rikus dropped both the rider and mount over the side of the bridge, then grabbed the rope and pulled Agis up. The mul passed the noble, still under the thrall of the halfling’s sleep spell, to Sadira. She cradled Agis’s head in her lap and shouted at him. When that did not work, she slapped him across the cheeks, hard. He remained asleep.

“Typical noble,” Rikus grumbled.

Neeva came next, covered head-to-toe with black goo. In her hand, she clutched a dragonfly’s head. There was no sign of the rest of its body.

“Are you hurt?” Sadira asked.

The gladiator looked up and wiped the insect’s blood from her eyes. “No. Just a few scratches,” she answered.

Rikus pulled Neeva to her feet, then took Agis from Sadira. “Good. You carry the noble,” he said, placing the sleeping man in her arms.

The mul stepped past Sadira, then cautiously led the way forward. Though they were constantly watching for another of Nok’s tests, they reached the end of the bridge without further incident. Rikus immediately went to the tree and reached for the spear.

“Wait,” Neeva called, dumping Agis’s body on the ground. “Nok’s coming.”

Sadira and the mul looked back across the gorge. The halfling chief strode across the swaying bridge as if walking down a trail, not even bothering to hold the handcords. Behind him, moving somewhat more cautiously, came two dozen halfling warriors. None of them looked happy.

“We’ve passed enough tests,” Rikus said.

The mul gave the spear a mighty tug. When it slipped out of the tree easily, he stumbled and nearly fell. He stood with the weapon in hand, regarding its balance and shape in awe. At last, he looked up and said, “I feel its power. My hands are tingling!”

Nok stepped off the bridge, cradling Ktandeo’s cane in his arms. He regarded the mul with a look of disdain, as if Rikus had offended him. The gladiator returned the scornful expression.

At last, Nok said, “The Heartwood Spear will penetrate any armor. It will defend you from the energies of the body and those of the world-from the Way of the Unseen and from magic. Now that you have this wondrous weapon, what will you do with it?”

“Kill Kalak,” Neeva said, taking the spear from Rikus’s hands.

The halflings behind Nok gripped their daggers meaningfully. Sensing that she and her companions had not yet passed Nok’s most important test, Sadira took the Heartwood Spear from Neeva’s hands.

“We swore to offer our bodies and spirits to the forest,” she said, facing the halfling chieftain. “Is is not ours to decide what should be done to defend it.” She held the spear out to Nok, saying, “Please accept this offering.”

The halfling smiled and touched his hand to the weapon. “Now you are worthy of the Heartwood Spear,” he said. “It is yours to use in the service of my forest.”

Sadira passed the spear to Rikus, then fixed her eyes on the cane still cradled in Nok’s arm. “If we are worthy of the spear, then perhaps we are also worthy of Ktandeo’s cane.”

Rikus quickly added, “You were the one who said it would take more than strength to throw the spear.”

“If it is a weapon we can use to defeat Kalak and defend the forest, please give it to us,” Neeva said. “We have passed your test, but we’ll still need every advantage you can provide to defeat the sorcerer-king.”

Nok regarded the two gladiators pensively. Finally, he held the cane out to Sadira. “I entrust these to your keeping so that you may protect the forest as you have pledged,” he said. “Kill Kalak, and then you must return the weapons to me.”

Sadira accepted the cane. “We will not fail. I promise.”

Rikus and his three companions stood in an alley across from Tyr’s great stadium, listening to the roar of the crowd thunder over the high walls. Two templars stood in each gateway of the structure, their pole-axes gripped firmly in hand and their short swords dangling at their hips. Outside the gates, hundreds of men and women-overcome by drink, heat, or excitement-sat in the streets. These refugees waved fans before their faces or simply held their heads in their hands. They would have fared better returning to their homes, but the mul suspected that they hoped to recover in time for the day’s grand finale. Rikus thought they were fools-not the sort of people for whom he wanted to die.

The mul faced his weary companions. After a grueling four-day hike, they had arrived in Tyr last night, only to discover that the ziggurat had been completed and the games were scheduled to begin in the morning.

“This will never work,” Rikus said, eyeing the guards at the stadium.

“Do you have a better idea?” Sadira asked.

The half-elf was dressed like a noblewoman, with a silver circlet in her amber hair and a silken cape over her shoulders. On her fingers she wore rings of silver, gold, and copper, and the straps of her sandals were studded with tourmaline. According to their plan, she would find a vantage point in the noble tiers from which she could see both Rikus and the King’s Balcony. Just before the mul threw the Heartwood Spear, she would use Ktandeo’s cane to destroy the magical shielding that they assumed would be protecting Kalak.

“I haven’t thought of anything better-yet,” Rikus admitted reluctantly.

“We don’t have much time, Rikus,” said Agis, looking nervous and uncomfortable in a templar’s cassock. “They could close the stadium any minute.”

“Let them! Tithian will never join us.” Rikus tipped his spear toward the stadium. “If we go through those gates, we’ll all be killed before we can assassinate anyone.”