Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [70]
The clawfoot whirled and lunged, snapping for the food. So did the next nearest clawfoot as both riders fought to control their mounts. In the moment of chaos, Keraal darted close. His chain snapped up and curled around the throat of the unfortunate halfling whose clawfoot had betrayed him. Keraal stepped back, heaving the struggling rider out of his saddle. The halfling hit the sand of the arena and an instant later, Keraal was on him, one arm around his neck, the opposite hand gripping his skull. The hobgoblin’s shoulders tensed and the halfling’s head twisted around on his shoulders, the snap of his breaking neck completely lost in the roar of the crowd.
The now-riderless clawfoot turned to stare at Keraal, who froze with the body of the halfling hunter still in his hands. The clawfoot lowered its head, taking a slow stride forward, and even from where she sat, Ekhaas could see a kind of feral intelligence and loyalty on its reptilian face. It knew its rider, knew he was dead, and knew that Keraal had killed him. Behind it, the remaining three riders spread out. Keraal let the corpse slip from his grasp and backed up slowly, swinging his chain.
It might have been his final act if the daggertail hadn’t at that moment staggered away from the arena wall, honking in pain and distress. It left a long smear of blood on the wall behind it, along with the broken body of its rider and the shattered shaft of the glaive—the head of which, Ekhaas guessed, must have broken off inside the wound, now even larger and uglier than before.
All four clawfoots turned to look at it. All of the surviving riders tried to rein in their mounts and control them just as the dead rider had tried to control his, but with no greater success. The distraction that Keraal had set up by wounding the daggertail was too strong. The halflings had left their clawfoots hungry before the battle. The sight and smell of the injured daggertail—natural prey for such predators—was too powerful.
The clawfoot that Keraal had initially brought down was the first to break. Twitching its head against the pull of the reins, it stalked out to confront the daggertail. The wounded lizard’s eyes fixed on it. The fearsome tail swung back and forth, but the clawfoot stayed well back. The other clawfoots moved in, forcing the daggertail to try and watch all of them. Ekhaas saw one of the lizards turn its head and fix its rider with an ugly stare. The halfling stiffened and whistled to the other halflings before he leaped to the ground to let his mount hunt. The other two hunters followed his example and the clawfoots, all riderless now, circled the daggertail.
The blue-streaked clawfoot looked once more at Keraal and threw back its head to let out a bone-chilling shriek. The daggertail swung toward the sound—and the other clawfoots pounced on it. The big spiked tail caught one in mid-air, bashing it to the ground with deep wounds in its flank, but the others were on it, trying to find a grip in its flesh with their claws and their teeth. The blue-streaked clawfoot shrieked again and leaped join in.
Keraal picked up a lost glaive, snapped the shaft over his knees to create a weapon that he could wield in one hand, and went after the three surviving halflings.
For a warrior who had defeated a tiger, a two-headed ettin, three Kech Shaarat bladedancers, and four Marguul berserkers armed only with the chains that had once bound him, they were no challenge. The clawfoots fought their own battle and the deaths of the hunters of the Talenta Plains were accompanied first by the screams of the daggertail and then by the sounds of the feasting clawfoots.
And by the roar of the cheering crowd, a roar that died away only when Keraal stood below the warlords’ box and let the head of the last halfling fall to the sand.
Tariic rose slowly and glared down. His face was dark and tight with anger, but somehow it didn’t reach his voice. “Keraal, who was warlord of the Gan’duur,” he called out—and if there was no anger in his voice, there was at least malice. “Who defied Lhesh