Читать книгу Soul Seduction, Book 2 of The Third Wish Duology - Dawn Addonizio - Страница 6

Disappointing Balthus was my most fervent wish. But although I had managed to mislead Lady Nightwing on that point, I wasn’t sure how much good it had done me.

The only thing I knew for certain was that I wasn’t going home without whatever she could tell me about that infinity tattoo.

“What kind of wager?” I croaked.

Lady Nightwing’s vicious grin grew broader with the knowledge that I had chosen to stay.

“Well, let’s see. We could have a riddle game,” she offered with a nonchalance that I trusted about as much as I’d trust Leslie Horowitz with my life savings.

“I’m not very good with riddles,” I answered in a careful tone. “And I’m not sure how much sense a human riddle would make to you, and vice versa.”

Lady Nightwing gave me a nonplussed look and Hob grumbled his displeasure.

“No, Hob, perhaps Sydney is right. A race, then?” she suggested. The calculating light in her eyes made me suspect that, of the two, this was the option she would have preferred anyway.

I rubbed my palms against my jeans in a nervous, unthinking gesture, feeling as if a vise was closing ever tighter around me. The rough denim reopened the drying cuts and the friction pushed the splinters deeper. Cringing, I stilled my shaking hands and lifted them away from the fabric.

The renewed sting was forgotten when I looked up to find that the imps had begun to creep closer on all sides, a writhing wall of misshapen flesh moving to box me in. Hob was sniffing the air, his gaze fixed hungrily on my torn and bleeding skin.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets, unmindful of the pain. What was a little stinging compared to the possibility of being eaten alive?

“Your pardon, Lady Nightwing,” I sputtered in a high voice. “But I don’t think I’m in any shape to run a race at the moment. Maybe a game of chance, rather than skill, would be the best choice to even the playing field?”

“I did not mean for you to join in the race, Sydney.” Lady Nightwing’s dry words were accompanied by a derisive snort from Hob. At least he had stopped scenting for my blood. “We would choose our contestants from the slave stock below and pit them against each other.”

“Oh,” I said, still not enamored of the idea. I definitely wouldn’t put it past Lady Nightwing to rig a race in her own favor. Nor was I especially hot on the idea of participating in the forced racing of her slaves.

“Um, I’m afraid I wouldn’t even know where to begin as far as picking out a suitable contestant,” I ventured apologetically. “I’ve never been much of a gambler.” As a matter of fact, I had taken more chances in the past twenty-four hours than I probably had in my entire life. “How about something simple, like …”

My finger brushed the edge of thin metal deep within my pocket and an idea hit me. “The flip of a coin,” spilled from my lips, just as Lady Nightwing decisively said the word, “Dice.”

She blinked at me as I pulled Sparrow’s silver coin from my pocket, knowing it was likely my best chance at receiving fair odds. After hearing stories about weighted dice, I had a feeling I wouldn’t fare any better with that suggestion than I would with races or riddles.

“What do you say? It’s straightforward and quick, with a fifty-fifty chance for each of us.” A storm-cloud of suspicion drifted across Lady Nightwing’s brow. “And you can call your side first, since it’s my coin,” I added hurriedly. “You can’t get a fairer wager than that.”

“Let me see that,” she demanded, presenting me with the outstretched fingers of one marble-veined hand.

I balked at the idea of placing something that I knew was so precious to Sparrow in her possession. What if something happened to it? How would I tell Sparrow I’d lost his good luck charm and the last thing his mother had ever given him?

Lady Nightwing’s face darkened with my hesitation and I realized it was too late to change my mind. If she knew the thing was important to me, I would be in even more danger of losing it. I schooled my expression and reached out to drop the coin in her palm.

She snatched it away from me and held it up, flipping it over to study both sides. Bright silver glinted in the pale light spilling from the crescent moon upon her forehead. She grimaced as if the coin offended her, and I scrambled to catch it as she flung it back at me.

“How came you by such an old sidhe coin?” she asked, her distaste evident.

I shrugged, trying to make it seem insignificant. “I saw it and thought it was interesting, so I held onto it. But you can see that it’s just a plain old coin. No tricks. You choose the sun or the tree, and we’ll toss it in the air and see where it lands.”

“You have strange friends for a human,” Lady Nightwing said with a thoughtful gleam in her eyes. “I am not best pleased that you brought this Seelie token into my domain, but fine - if it will make you more comfortable with our wager, then this is what we shall use.”

She gave me an ingratiating smile that made my skin prickle with unease. “You are, after all, my guest, Sydney. Now, let us venture below to the arena. Our contest will take place there, for the amusement of the Hoarde.”

She turned and glided across the deck toward the raised mast platform, the hem of her transparent gown fluttering around her pale ankles in the breeze. Hob smirked at me nastily and gestured for me to follow her with one thorn-spiked arm. I had no choice but to comply.

The imps drew apart in order to allow Lady Nightwing through. A rotten peach sailed past, narrowly missing my head as the night grew darker with the retreating light from the Lady’s crescent moon. Laughter and grumbling faded to silence as the imps blended into the shadows once more.

I followed in Nightwing’s wake, past the mast and down the opposite side, where a door had been cut into the platform wall. It opened onto a steep, narrow stairway that descended into blackness. There was no railing, only rough walls crowding in on either side, close enough for me to brace my forearms against as I ventured deeper into the belly of the Hell Barge.

The climb was endless, the dank air disturbed only by the rasping breath of Hob at my back. Absolute darkness enfolded me, clinging and sticky like tar. It felt sentient, a heavy waiting presence that gradually suffocated life and hope. On and on I pushed through it, straining to keep moving despite the voice in my head screaming for me to turn around and run back, toward the feel of wind on my face and the familiar darkness of the night above.

A steady rising panic engulfed me, leaving me breathless and dizzy. I stumbled, scraping my arms against the invisible walls of my prison as I steadied myself. A grunt sounded close behind me and something sharp pricked the back of my leg through my jeans. I gasped as I forced my feet to continue forward.

“Hob!” Lady Nightwing grated from somewhere below me, a warning peal in her tone.

The sound was a relief to my ears as I struggled blindly toward her voice. It was a dark comfort – the seeming lesser of two evils.

“Your pardon, Mistress,” Hob mumbled. “On my life, it was an accident.”

Lady Nightwing huffed irritably in response. “It is not much further, Sydney,” she assured me.

I managed to propel myself onward for several more minutes with those words repeating in my head.

Just as I was sure I couldn’t take another step, an abrupt brightness ripped across my eyes and a cacophony of voices assaulted my ears. I squeezed my eyelids shut against the resulting ache and lurched forward. Finally the ground leveled off and my fingertips moved past the edges of a doorway. I floundered into the shock of an open space, reverberating with sound.

Fumbling to a halt, I cracked one eyelid, willing my pupil to adjust faster to the light. Although it was painfully bright after the blackness of the stairwell, in reality the space was dim - lit only by the hungry licking flames of swaying iron chandeliers and scattered torches.

We had arrived in a marketplace of sorts, crushed with a bizarre assortment of creatures. The whole space must have been magically enlarged, because it sprawled out far beyond the size of the deck above. Merchants hawked their wares behind ramshackle stalls and tables. Most I recognized as goblins, bow-legged and standing about four feet tall with pale, beady eyes, flat noses and too-wide mouths.

A few wore their wiry reddish-blonde hair in long, straggly strands past their shoulders. Something about their features seemed softer than the others, and I guessed they were the females.

Imps scrambled or waddled past, their bodies low to the dusty wooden floor. They wove between the legs of the crowd, grunting and squealing when they were kicked or stepped on. Creatures like Hob were scattered throughout the throng, all appearing as the perverted embodiments of various trees or shrubs, as different from each other as the species they mimicked.

There were tall, thin creatures with long emaciated limbs, who bore an eerie resemblance to the popular images of aliens. Their large black eyes gleamed hard and shiny like onyx, but were disturbingly cold and lifeless. They were given a wide berth by the rest of the masses.

“Come, Sydney,” Lady Nightwing instructed as she continued forward through the crowd. Most acknowledged her, inclining their heads respectfully as she passed. But even among those who didn’t, not one dared touch her or bar her way.

As I moved along behind her I received reactions ranging from disinterest, to avid stares, to sneers of contempt. Hob followed in my wake like a sinister bodyguard, growling with menace if anyone ventured too close to me. I was grateful for his protection, though I doubted its sincerity. He was probably just hoping to reserve the pleasure of tormenting me for himself.

Sickly sweet aromas assailed me from vendor stalls offering unidentified meats with bone and gristle poking through charred flesh. Several hobgoblins gathered to the side of one such stall, tossing glistening, pinkish-white objects the size of gumballs into their mouths like candy. The orb-like morsels popped between their teeth with a squelchy sound.

I thought it best not to dwell on exactly what manner of meat was being sold.

We passed shrill-voiced goblin merchants, striving to outsell each other as they boasted the quality of their weighted dice. Others stridently touted the potency of various spells. There were tables lined with jars of herbs and powders, along-side others displaying colorful assortments of pipes with which to smoke them.

Daggers and deadly-looking blades of every description rested on stands or were laid out in haphazard rows. Some had hilts encrusted with jewels that winked fitfully in the unsteady torchlight; others sported grips wrapped in tanned hide; while still others looked to be carved from bone and inlaid with strange, twisting symbols.

I watched as a faerie-like creature, with skin glistening a venomous green and wings resembling bug-eaten leaves, alighted on one of the tables and began haggling for a tiny, saw-toothed knife. It came to an agreement with the merchant, and was exchanging a small drawstring pouch for the blade, when shouts rang out somewhere ahead of us.

The crowd exploded like a hive of angry bees.

Idle browsers suddenly surged forward toward a growing knot of spectators that were gathering around the unseen commotion. A few smaller, more timid-looking creatures ran in the opposite direction. But most charged toward the disturbance, jostling anyone in their way and yelling violent encouragements.

The merchants stayed behind to guard their goods, but craned their necks and climbed on stools and tables to see above the mob. Through a break in the throng, I could see one of the tall alien creatures with the dead black eyes. A thick, pulsating aura bled from its skin, turning the air around it into a nauseating corona of shadows.

Lady Nightwing sighed. “It appears that Lathos is once again at the center of some disagreement. Come, Hob. Let us see what all the excitement is about. I require his overseeing services for my wager with Sydney.”

She continued forward, then slowed and looked back at me. “It would be best for you to remain here, Sydney. Nasty accidents have been known to befall humans in the midst of such mobs.”

Hob glowered at me as he moved to join Lady Nightwing. “If you are not here when I return you will regret it, human,” he growled under his breath.

I hung back and watched as the crowd parted to allow them through. I glimpsed a haggard and pitiful creature cringing at the feet of the menacing Lathos. It resembled a goblin in body and hair color, but its features were more elegant, its bone structure finer, and two velvet-tipped horns protruded from its hairline. Clad in only a loin-cloth, it writhed against the wooden floor as if in the throes of a nightmare, unmindful of the jagged splinters tearing at its skin.

The mob stilled as Lady Nightwing pushed her way through. Lathos, however, was unaffected. He continued to stare down at the creature with his intense, pitiless gaze. The shadowy nimbus surrounding him grew stronger, spreading from his body to caress the trembling wretch at his feet. It cried out and I cringed involuntarily. The sound was the embodiment of utter terror and pain.

Lady Nightwing allowed it to go on for a few moments more before interrupting in a bored tone. “Lathos, I require your services at the arena. Be done with this half-breed and join me.”

Lathos raised his head to fix his soulless eyes on Lady Nightwing. The shadowy aura surrounding him grew fainter and began to gather back toward his body. The creature at his feet wrapped its arms around itself and sobbed.

“This half-breed attempted to purchase a spell that I am interested in obtaining.” Lathos’ voice was soft and expressionless, and all the more unsettling for the fact that his small slit of a mouth didn’t appear to move when he spoke.

“Your pardon, Master Gleaner,” the half-goblin begged, its voice catching in misery. “I would most certainly have stood aside, but I did not see you at the table.”

Lathos tilted his head and considered the creature impassively. “That is because I had not yet reached the table.”

Malicious snickers sounded throughout the crowd.

“I shall have that spell,” Lathos stated.

Lady Nightwing shrugged. “So take the spell and throw the half-breed into a slave ring. We have more important business to attend to.”

The half-goblin whimpered and the mob jeered in excitement.

“The spell remains at the merchant’s table,” Lathos said without inflection as he turned to approach a nearby stall.

Lady Nightwing shook her head in exasperation and turned to Hob. “Take the half-breed to Ogre Malfecus’ slave ring, and then rejoin us,” she instructed, pointing to an area with a high chain-link fence around it.

Hob stomped forward and jerked the poor creature to its feet. It grimaced in pain, and I could see bloody gashes where the rough wood had ripped its skin. I winced in commiseration, gingerly running my fingertips over my own stinging palms.

The crowd began to disperse and Lady Nightwing trailed after Lathos. I remained where I was, standing alone and trying not to appear as nervous as I felt. A few of the retreating hobgoblins narrowed their glowing eyes at me as they approached, whispering amongst themselves.

“Hey Gorbuz!” a heavily barbed one called out in a loud, gravelly voice. I followed its eyes toward one of the meat-selling goblins.

“Jab Thornbriar,” the goblin answered with a courteous bow. “What can I sell you this night?”

“Gah – I’ve had my fill of flesh for the moment. Just thought I’d let you know – one of your livestock has escaped.”

The hobgoblin inclined its thorny head toward me and the group broke into evil laughter. The goblin vendor snickered and wiped his hands on a blood-stained cloth before continuing about his work. I waited for the hobgoblins to pass, and then inched backward toward the merchant tables, easing my way out of the more exposed thoroughfare.

“Human,” a cracked voice grated out behind me.

I spun to find myself at one of the spell tables. It was scattered with frayed scrolls tied with multi-hued pieces of string, and dusty, mismatched jars of different colored powders … as well as more unpleasant-looking ingredients. The merchant standing behind the table was an ancient goblin woman. Only a vague hint of red remained in her straggly grey hair. Her skin was leathery and worn, and one eye was a blind, milky white.

She spread her wide lips in a grin, revealing a mouth that was missing most of its teeth. “I am Ezrega,” she croaked. “Come closer, human. I have a proposition for you.”

My heart was still racing from the hobgoblins and the look I gave her was dubious at best. “What sort of proposition?”

“You seek a goblin with the mark of infinity on his hand.”

I blinked at her, unable to disguise my shock. “How … You know him?”

She broke into a wheezing laugh. “Ezrega knows and sees much, child.” She sobered abruptly and fixed me with her piercing, one-eyed gaze. “Firzag is no longer in this world. I have seen his passing, although the manner of it eludes me.”

She cracked her gnarled fist down onto the table in frustration, rattling the clusters of jars, and I started.

“Something clouds my vision,” she grumbled in irritation.

“He’s dead?” I asked, my heart sinking.

She cocked her head and pinned me again with her one bright eye. “Aye, I’ve said so, haven’t I?” she demanded. “But he’s left something behind, he has,” she continued in a low tone. “Something you may find useful.” The look she gave me was calculating.

“What is it?” I asked, afraid to hope.

“A book. Of no use to me, but he left it in my care. He won’t be returning for it now.” She cackled madly. “But the voices in the fire say that if I give it to you - if you survive this night - Firzag may be avenged.”

“What kind of book?” I whispered, refusing to speculate about whether I’d survive the night.

Ezrega grunted. “Don’t read. And don’t trust no-one to read it for me. So either it stays with me, closed forever, or I give it to you.” She tapped one twisted knuckle against her wrinkled chin. “But not for nothing. You must give Ezrega something in return.”

My face fell. “I don’t really have anything with me.”

Her gaze narrowed on me, the milky whiteness of her blind eye swirling like the surface of a disturbed pond as it focused in on my pocket. “Coin,” she croaked.

My hand flew protectively to my pocket. “I can’t give you that. It belongs to someone else. And Lady Nightwing and I have a wager on the flip of this coin.”

Her face grew blank, as if she was listening to something no one else could hear. Then her lips cracked into a crooked smile. “Wise human. You may survive this night after all. But if you want the book, and will not give me the coin, you must allow me to tap your vein.”

“What?” I blanched when I realized what she was asking. She wanted my blood.

“Come now, child. I will only take a little,” she encouraged in a grandmotherly tone. “You can’t have something for nothing.”

“But what will you do with it?” I sputtered.

“Why, sell it to the highest bidder, of course,” she answered with relish. “Human blood is a key ingredient in many powerful spells. But the Seelie Court makes it difficult to get away with spilling it. Freely given, however, it is legal.”

She grinned, showing off her few remaining teeth, and I blinked at her.

“Make your decision quickly, child. Nightwing returns soon.”

The old goblin woman pulled a thin, well-honed dagger from her belt and waited. My stomach gurgled with acid, and I closed my eyes as I held out a trembling hand. She grabbed it and pulled it toward her, her bony grip surprisingly strong. I felt the cold bite of metal across my wrist, swift and deep, and I flinched.

“Make a fist,” she ordered, turning my arm sideways and holding it immobile.

I did as she instructed, feeling the sting of air on the wound and the flow of blood across my wrist. I didn’t really want to see, but morbid curiosity forced me to look. I stared in fascination at the rapid, unstaunched stream of bright red spilling into the glass jar she had placed beneath my arm. It was filling up fast.

I began to feel lightheaded and nauseous, not surprising since I always had the same reaction when they took blood at the doctor’s office. It didn’t take much to make me feel that way. I had never even bothered trying to donate to the Red Cross.

An ache began to plague my arm - a helpless, shrinking feeling that spread through my veins as my body struggled against the loss of its life fluid. I inhaled through the discomfort, telling myself it was almost done.

Then the old crone moved the full jar out of the way and pushed a fresh one beneath my wrist.

“Ezrega, no!” I gasped, my voice growing unsteady. “I can’t give any more - I’ll pass out!”

She clucked her tongue, and with her free hand she reached into one of her display jars. She pulled out a palm full of ruby powder and blew it into my face with one strong breath.

I choked and sputtered as it went up my nose and down my throat, searing delicate inner passages along the way. Ezrega continued to hold my arm still with a ruthless grip. My eyes watered and my nose and throat felt burned and raw. But I felt stronger.

“Fire orchid powder - toughens and purifies the blood,” she told me with a wink. “This will be the last jar.”

Soon enough the second jar was full and she sprinkled a different, darker powder over my wrist. It stung like acid, but the blood stopped flowing immediately. She dipped one bony finger into the first jar of blood before sealing it and storing it out of sight. I grimaced as she stuck her finger in her mouth and tasted it.

She hissed and made a face. “What’s this child?”

Hob’s growling voice sounded behind me and I stiffened. “I thought I told you to stay put, human.”

Before I could form a reply, Ezrega grabbed both my wrists and yanked me forward. She nimbly stuffed something square and flat into the waistband of my jeans, and then sprinkled more of her dark powder over my splinter-shredded palms. It burned like fire and I let out a yelp of complaint, just as she blew more of the fire orchid powder into my face, making me tear up and gag.

She gave me a warning look as she scooped some of the darker powder into a drawstring bag and pushed it into my hand before releasing me.

“Have a care, Hob Nightshade,” she croaked. “Risky to leave your human unattended in this place with the stench of blood on it. Nightwing would not be best pleased to lose her evening’s entertainment.”

She fixed him with the milky, swirling gaze of her blind eye. “But then, your carelessness may have already robbed Nightwing of her nightly pleasures.” She let out a hearty cackle.

Hob was visibly startled, but recovered quickly. “Mind your own affairs, you meddling old hag!” he barked.

He looked as if he would say more, but he was interrupted by Lady Nightwing.

“There you are. Come Hob. Come Sydney. We have an appointment to keep at the arena. Lathos will join us there.” She turned back the way she had come, expecting us to follow without question.

Hob gave Ezrega one last glare before turning on his heel and hastening me away.

I shivered, both at Lady Nightwing’s icy tone and at the thought of meeting Lathos face to face. Ezrega’s insane laughter rang out behind us as we left her table, and I wondered uncomfortably what she had meant about Hob robbing Nightwing of her entertainment.

I felt in my pocket, relieved to find I still had Sparrow’s coin. My fingers traced the outline of the small book Ezrega had tucked into my waistband, pushing it down more securely. I was dying to pull it out and look at it, but that would have to wait until later … assuming there would be a later.

As we approached the tall chain-link fence that Nightwing had referred to as ‘Ogre Malfecus’ slave ring’, I could see the half-goblin with the velvety horns huddled alone in a far corner. His side was pressed into the grating of the fence and he trembled as he attempted to lick at his wounds.

“Hob!” called a high, child-like voice.

I turned to see a massive figure shuffling toward the inside perimeter of the fence near the miserable half-goblin. Its body was wide and round atop thick, stubby legs. Towering at least eight feet tall, its broad forehead jutted out over pin-prick eyes and a gaping mouth with large, uneven teeth. It held a long, cruel whip in one enormous fist.

“Hob!” it called out again, its tinny voice belying its girth. “They told me you just dropped this one off!” It aimed a well-placed kick at the half-goblin’s ribs, and the creature moaned.

“Fresh slaves are always appreciated – we seem to go through them so quickly.” It giggled, a grating sound that set my teeth on edge. “Lady Nightwing,” it added with a bow of its corpulent head. “As a small show of appreciation, I have a tip that you may like to take to the betting pools.”

“Thank you, Master Ogre,” Lady Nightwing answered graciously. “I have always found your tips to be quite useful.”

She and Hob approached the fence and began speaking with the ogre in low voices. I sidled over to the half-goblin and gazed down on him in pity. He clutched his side, no longer attempting to staunch the blood flowing from his wounds. I pulled the little pouch Ezrega had given me from my pocket.

“Here,” I whispered. “This should stop the bleeding.”

He flinched and gazed up at me with startled eyes. They were a lovely shade of blue-green, soft and wide beneath his down-fuzzed horns. I pushed the bag through a hole in the fence, blocking the view with my body. Slowly, he reached out and took it, the expression on his face a painful mix of fear and gratitude.

“But why?” he asked in confusion.

I shrugged. “Because you need it more than I do.”

“Thank you.” His beautiful eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I am Barnaby. And I will never forget your kindness.”

I blinked my own tears back. I needed to stay strong, now more than ever. “I’m Sydney.”

“Thank you, Sydney.” He sprinkled the contents of the bag over the numerous cuts and gashes on his arms and legs, wincing as the powder hit his skin, but not making a sound.

“Sorry. I know it stings,” I whispered with a sympathetic grimace. “Some old goblin lady used it on me after she took my blood.”

“It is nothing,” he dismissed, as he emptied the bag and stuffed it into a crevice in the dirty wooden floor. Then he flashed me a sad smile and tilted his head behind me in warning before turning away as if we’d never spoken.

I didn’t know if it was the discovery of a kind soul in all the madness, or the loss of blood, or simply the hour – but I was suddenly overcome with weariness.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

By the time we reached the arena, a roughly circular space bordered by a low plank fence, I was literally dragging my feet. My bruised right side was a mass of soreness, and the chaotic atmosphere was doing nothing to alleviate my pounding headache. I plodded after Lady Nightwing, each step more difficult than the last, until we reached a roped-off area near a gate in the fence.

Spectators ringed the enclosure on all sides, yelling and jeering at the contestants within, who appeared to be engaged in some sort of free-for-all fighting match. A pair of unconscious goblins was being dragged off to the side by an ogre, his meaty fists large enough to carry each one by a leg.

As I watched the remaining contestants, a satyr-like creature was knocked to the ground as well. It had horns like Barnaby’s, but its lower half was covered in shaggy brown fur and it had cloven hooves instead of feet. It lay there motionless and, after a moment, it too was dragged away.

Three fighters were left – a female centaur with a bare-breasted torso and the body of a horse with small, stunted wings; a creature that resembled an ogre, but with about three feet missing from its height; and a strange, feral-looking man that moved on all fours and had dark wings sprouting from his back.

The winged man and the ogre creature were ganging up on the female centaur. The ogre swung a club at her head while the man flitted back and forth at her rear haunches, striking out with what appeared to be metal-tipped claws. She reared back to dodge the club, roaring in anger and pain as the claws ripped deep furrows into her left flank.

The crowd screamed its approval, but just as swiftly the centaur shifted her balance and struck out behind her with a vicious kick, catching the man in the chest and sending him flying into the wooden fence. He smacked against it with a loud crunch, then sank to the ground and didn’t move again. Her eyes held fire as she advanced on the ogre, who stepped back uncertainly. In that moment of hesitation she plowed forward, knocking him to the ground and trampling him.

The uproar from the audience was thunderous as gamblers rushed forward to settle their bets. The prevailing sounds consisted of booing, cursing and ear-splitting insults. The centaur stepped back from the lifeless ogre and held her head high, as if unaffected. Despite my growing weariness, a small smile stretched my lips. They shouldn’t have bet against the only female in the ring.

The body-dragging ogre came to lead the winner from the arena as others quickly cleared away the losers. The crowd began to settle and a disembodied voice rang out over the murmuring din.

“And now, fellow members of the Hoarde, we have something very special for the next event of the evening. A fairly unexciting contest, perhaps – but for interesting stakes. Please welcome our own Lady Nightwing to the arena as the sponsor of, and a participant in, this challenge …”

The voice was drowned out by raucous cheering and the vigorous stomping of feet. Lady Nightwing smiled and waved one pale-veined hand in acknowledgment. When the noise died to a dull roar, the speaker continued.

“The contest will consist of a simple coin toss. The challenger - a human female.”

There was a collective grumbling, but the crowd held their objections to a minimum, as if afraid to offend Lady Nightwing.

“Hoarde bets will not be taken on the outcome.” The grumbling went up several decibels and the announcer was forced to raise his voice. “The wager on this contest has already been agreed upon between Lady Nightwing and the human. It is as follows: if the human wins the toss, Lady Nightwing will transport her from the Hell Barge to the destination of her choice.”

The audience exploded in avid displeasure. Malicious eyes sought me out, burning in a multitude of ugly, leering faces. Fists were raised and angrily shaken. I was suddenly glad the fruit flinger wasn’t there to pass out rotten fruit.

“BUT …” the announcer broke in loudly, “If Lady Nightwing wins,” the cacophony lessened and the leering faces turned eager, “the human must remain with us for the night. And this is no ordinary human, my friends. She has dared to embark upon the Hell Ride willingly.

“The gleaners will not be required to remove her memories at the end of the night. She will leave us with full remembrance of the Hoarde’s games.”

The response was deafening, and I closed my eyes against it as I forced down a wave of nausea. I was beginning to feel really sick, and I didn’t think it was solely from the fear. My head hurt, my stomach gurgled unpleasantly and my skin was clammy with sweat. It almost felt like food poisoning.

I was making a concerted effort just to breathe, slow and deep, when the announcer’s voice broke through my misery once more.

“And since Lady Nightwing knows how eager you will all be to participate, she has chosen to allow the Hoarde to bid for equal time slots with the human. Her only stipulation is that winners curb their amusements so that the human remains conscious when they are finished. After all, we don’t want any of our time slot winners to feel cheated.

“The gleaner, Lathos, will preside over the coin toss. Time slot bidding will begin at the conclusion of the contest.” The speaker paused for emphasis. “Pending, of course, Lady Nightwing’s victory.”

If the mocking tone of those words hadn’t made my stomach pitch with misgivings, the evil cackles and howls of laughter from all sides would have done the job.

“Come, Sydney, it’s time.” Lady Nightwing’s cool voice was a balm compared to the harshness of the voices from the crowd.

I followed her through the gate and toward the middle of the dusty arena. The roar of the spectators barely reached my ears; I was so intent upon not stumbling, and avoiding the congealing puddles of blood and other bits of gore. I swayed to a stop beside Lady Nightwing and looked up to find that we were at the center of the circle.

The crowd, held back only by the short wooden fence and Lady Nightwing’s will, seemed even louder and more intimidating from here.

“The coin please, Sydney,” Lady Nightwing said softly.

I attempted to shake off the fog that was taking over my brain and reached numbly into my pocket for Sparrow’s coin. As soon as I touched it, I felt a little better. It wasn’t much, but it helped.

When I raised my head, I realized that Lathos was standing beside me. His lifeless black eyes seemed to leech away my brief sense of comfort.

Lady Nightwing turned to the crowd and smiled, gesturing to me as she spoke. “As you are my guest, Sydney, you may choose your side and perform the coin toss.”

“Thank you,” I said faintly, trying to conjure a weak smile of gratitude that probably came out more of a grimace.

I blinked at the bright silver coin, turning it over in my palm. The sun, beautifully depicted, seemed to swirl with heat. It symbolized the antithesis of this place of endless night, and Goddess knew I wanted nothing more than to escape and feel the light upon my face again.

But I was drawn to the tree.

The multitude of shimmering leaves, captured in minute detail, seemed to blow in the wake of a mystical breeze. It was gentle and comforting. My eyelids fluttered shut, and for an instant it was as if I could feel Sparrow’s presence, the hint of his warm breath mingling with mine.

“The tree,” I whispered. I cleared my throat and said it louder. “I choose the tree.”

“Very well,” she agreed. Again she addressed the crowd. “The sides have been chosen. Sydney will toss the coin and Lathos will confirm the result.” She turned back to me expectantly.

I rubbed the coin between my thumb and forefinger, feeling it grow surprisingly hot with my touch. Then I flipped it high into the air, following it with my eyes and catching it on the back of my hand as my other palm came down atop it. Lathos leaned in closer, the dark shadows of his aura pulsing outward toward my hands. As I uncovered the coin, a silent prayer spilling from my lips, an indistinct halo of light radiated from it, pushing away the seeking darkness.

I let out a painful breath, almost sobbing with gratitude. The side with the tree was showing. I looked up at Lady Nightwing with undisguised relief. The expression on her face was one of triumph.

Confused, I glanced down at the coin again. The shadows surrounding Lathos thickened and the image on the coin wavered, the sun flickering there for a single nauseating moment. Then it strengthened indisputably into that of the tree.

“It’s the tree. I won.” Suspicion rode my tone and I held the coin out for both of them to see.

The crowd thundered its discontent. But what captured my attention was the look that passed between Lady Nightwing and Lathos. Anger flashed in her lavender eyes, and his emotionless visage came close to reflecting discomfort.

“Two out of three,” she snapped.

“What? No! I won!” I insisted. It came out defensive and louder than I intended.

Lady Nightwing reined in her anger, but just barely. “Yes, Sydney,” she agreed with a hard smile. “You won the first toss. Now we will have two more to decide the contest.”

“But that’s not what we agreed,” I stammered in denial, clutching the coin tightly in my hand.

She narrowed her red-rimmed eyes at me and I was suddenly more frightened of her than I was of Lathos and the entire mob combined. “It is customary for such a contest to be decided in two out of three tosses. If you wanted the final decision to be based on a single toss, you should have specified that before we began.”

I stared at her, unable to speak.

She smiled again, her icy composure restored. “But I am not an ungracious host. To make up for this misunderstanding, if you win, I shall grant you an additional boon.

“What shall it be, Sydney?”

I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat. I felt faint, my skin now flashing between fever and chills. The crowd still roared, but it sounded hollow in my ears. I looked around, trying to think, trying to hold onto fading hope. New creatures occupied the roped-off waiting area by the gate. There were several vicious-looking hobgoblins, a gleaner and …. Barnaby.

His striking blue-green eyes met mine, and the sympathy I saw there was nearly my undoing. I brutally forced back a sob and looked away, steeling my face as I turned back to Lady Nightwing.

“Alright. If I win, in addition to our original agreement, I would also have you release that half-goblin, the one Hob brought to the slave ring earlier, and transport him – unharmed - wherever he wants to go.” I pointed toward Barnaby so that there would be no mistaking who I meant. But I didn’t dare look at his face again.

Lady Nightwing’s smooth forehead creased as if she couldn’t quite fathom my request. “You desire that I free a half-breed slave as your second boon?” she repeated, as if to make sure that she had heard correctly.

I nodded my assent.

“What is this slave to you?” she asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

I shrugged, hoping my request wouldn’t make things worse for Barnaby if I lost. “He’s nothing more to me than any other slave I’d want freed.”

The crowed snickered and jeered at my response. A mocking grin spread across Lady Nightwing’s features. It was tinged with what might have passed for pity, had it been someone else.

“Agreed,” she stated aloud for the benefit of our audience. “Let us continue.”

Then, for my ears alone, she whispered, “Sometimes I forget how pathetically amusing you humans can be.”

I ignored her derision and unclenched my palm, rubbing the coin between my fingers again before flipping it up into the air. Lady Nightwing and Lathos edged forward. “The tree remains my choice for this and the next toss,” I clarified, not wanting to leave them room to change any more rules.

Lady Nightwing glared at me impatiently. “Understood.”

The shadowy nimbus around Lathos writhed and reached toward me once more. I held my breath and removed my hand from where I’d caught the coin. My stomach roiled and my heart sank. I didn’t know if it was Lathos’ doing or the coin’s natural fall, but there was no doubt as to what my eyes were seeing.

“Sun,” I said in a choked voice.

“Once more, Sydney,” Lady Nightwing said with a calm smile.

I fingered the coin one last time, a desperate prayer on my lips as I tossed it. I uncovered it quickly, like ripping a band-aid from a wound. Lathos’ black aura seethed forward and I blinked. Shadows swirled violently around my hand, but the silver of the coin only shone brighter against them. It grew hot against my skin, insistently revealing the tree.

“It’s the tree,” I said with a strength I didn’t feel. “I win.”

The crowd erupted in uncontrollable wrath, and the fury on Lady Nightwing’s face was terrifying. My knees gave out and I collapsed to the filthy ground. The voices washed over me like a raging sea, hatred crashing against me in unrelenting waves. Sparrow’s coin was my life preserver, and I clutched it in desperation.

“I won,” I said, my voice sounding faint to my own ears. “You have to send us where we want to go.” I tried unsuccessfully to swallow. “What’s wrong with me?”

Lady Nightwing looked down on me with utter contempt. “You think you have outsmarted me, human, but I shall have the final victory. You may have cheated the Hoarde out of one night’s diversion, but by the looks of you, you wouldn’t have been good for much anyway.

“What is wrong with you?” she mimicked nastily. “The deadly poison from Hob Nightshade’s thorns burns through your veins. So I will send you to the one who bears the mark of infinity as promised. And your pitiful soul shall trouble me no more.”

My vision tunneled as I tried to grasp what she was saying. “The half-goblin. You will also send him wherever he asks,” I insisted weakly.

She ground her teeth. “As agreed. Now be gone.”

Dark fire seared through me. I tried to scream but my voice wouldn’t work. The tunnel around my eyes narrowed to blackness. All my senses collapsed into a single awareness – pain - and it tore through me as if I was being ripped apart.

And then there was blessed nothingness.