Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [150]
“Who’s to do ‘im?” Mox asked, pulling out a dice cup and rattling it suggestively.
The boy grinned, then glanced at the sergeant and wiped his expression blank.
“Know ‘im?” Mox said. “Called ‘im Giant in the arena.”
The sergeant glanced up from honing his dagger and shot Caelan an appreciative look. “Gladiator, eh? You’re big enough.”
Mox laughed. “Why, yer lookin’ at the champion! Weren’t no fighter able to beat ‘im, never. Not a single defeat in all the time—”
“Shut up, Mox,” Caelan said, furious at the man’s chatter. Now they would be more on their guard. He shouldn’t have waited this long to strike.
The sergeant sighed and leaned over to put his helmet on the floor. Taking off his cloak, he folded it neatly and efficiently into a square and laid it atop the helmet. He tested the edge of his dagger with his thumb and eyed Caelan.
“Arena bait, or not, he’s finished tonight,” the sergeant said. “Hold him.”
“You were told to wait until the prince left the dungeons,” Caelan said.
The sergeant sneered. “What the hell’s the difference? Me and my men can’t go off duty till you’re done.”
Mox rattled his dice box. “Can we cast lots fer the heart?”
Caelan glared at the gladiator, and severed without waiting for the sergeant’s answer. To his relief, the swift icy rush of detachment engulfed him, and he went deep into the coldness.
With every sense heightened, he gathered his feet beneath him, ready to spring. He watched the guards approach him and saw their threads of life. The sergeant’s were gnarled and tough, streaked black from dark deeds. The boy’s were spindly. Mox and the fourth man moved behind Caelan, and there was no more time to calculate.
As the unnamed guard gripped Caelan from behind, and the sergeant reached for his hair, Caelan spun on his knees, severing as many threads of life as he could reach.
Screams filled the air, but Caelan had no time to count who was down and who was still standing. Sensing a blow from the corner of his eye, he ducked aside, hampered by his chain.
Roaring curses, the sergeant slashed at him with his long dagger, nicking Caelan’s shoulder as he dodged again. It was a shallow cut that stung fiercely. But Caelan ignored it. He gripped the chain with both hands and heaved against it with all his strength. His muscles bulged. The linking pin of the chain sheared in half with a shrill ping and went sailing across the room.
Links of chain slid through the bolt, and Caelan went staggering off balance just as the sergeant tackled him.
They went sprawling together in a tangle of arms and legs.
Caelan blocked the dagger thrust with his elbow, feeling another slice of the point along his arm, and looped the chain around the sergeant’s throat.
Choking and struggling, the sergeant tried to knee Caelan, but Caelan was already hauling himself to his feet, pulling the chain tighter and tighter while the man shuddered and flailed. The dagger fell to the floor. The sergeant’s face began to turn scarlet, then purple. Veins bulged in his temple, and his tongue protruded from his open mouth.
Something sharp plunged deep into Caelan’s back, catching him just below the rim of his ribs and slamming upward.
He dropped severance and staggered to one side, his strength gone, his breath gone, the world dancing in shades of black that flickered in and out of his vision.
The chain slid from his hands, and the sergeant dropped to his knees, making gasping, guttural noises.
Glancing over his shoulder, Caelan saw the hilt of a dagger projecting from his low back, and Mox’s fingers whitening on it as he twisted the blade.
Screaming against the agony, Caelan turned and swung both his shackled hands together. His forearm slammed across Mox’s face, knocking him back. It was a foolish blow, a good way to break his arm against the hard bones of Mox’s skull, but Mox went sprawling awkwardly. He seemed paralyzed on one side, his left arm and leg not working right. But he came crawling back, his scarred face contorted, death in his eyes.
On Caelan’s other side, the sergeant was still coughing and gasping,