Bloodguard

chapter 65

Leith

I jump up and latch onto the top of the crate. Using the heel of my boot, I kick down and strike one of the locks.

Again and again I come down on it hard until my ankle threatens to break.

I’m almost forced to use the sword. Almost.

But my next attempt does it. I bust the latch free and break open the corner of the door.

That’s all it takes for a sea serpent to shoot through the opening and attack. It’s young, probably four feet long and a quarter as wide. I doubt it’s ever fought a human before.

I punch the thing so hard in the head, its fangs clatter.

The skull is rock hard, and my fist throbs. In the time since Maeve began treating me, my left hand has recovered enough to mostly make a fist, so I punch it with that one, too.

My knuckles on both hands hurt now, and my sore heel throbs under my weight. Guess what? I’m not the only one hurting. The serpent bobs its head from side to side, the rest of its long, yellow body motionless. It’s stunned and partially blinded by my first blow. It won’t take long to recover, so I don’t waste any time.

I dive toward the axe and fall into a roll, clutching the handle to my body. The momentum gives me extra speed, and I come up swinging, slicing off the head of the next serpent that escapes the crate.

The familiar buzz of saws tugs my lips into a smile. I edge backward and toward the sound, allowing my ears to guide me. The buzzing escalates, as does the shrieking crowd. Maeve screams, trying to warn me. But she more than anyone knows how well I move my body.

Another serpent slides out, its long, heavy body creating deep grooves in the sand. This one is older and smarter, maybe six feet in length. It avoids every swing I take.

Except it’s new to the arena.

I’m not.

As it rushes me, I slide to the side and toward the crate. It doubles back, hissing, enraged, and unaware of what’s coming.

The first saw slices off the serpent’s tail. It wails and slithers diagonally, trying to avoid the two that follow. And failing miserably. The saws crisscross, chopping through its slick, leathery skin. As it lunges in a last effort to survive, I swing the butt of my axe up and into its jaw. It falls into what are now four spinning blades.

Blood sprays my face.

And I like it.

I wipe it away and crouch lower to the ground. The first, smaller serpent comes to its senses. Still partially blind, it strikes and misses, slamming into the battered door. One swing is all it takes to send its head flying.

A fourth serpent glides out between splintered planks, its mass and weight shattering what’s left of the door. This one is an experienced hunter, huge and fast. It easily avoids my blade and coils around me, causing me to drop the axe.

I expand my limbs, trying to create space for myself as it constricts, but my strength is no match for it. I use my weight to pitch left and right, but it’s useless. I can’t break free.

The serpent squeezes harder and buckles my frame hard enough to break one of my ribs.

I suck in shallow breaths and force myself to keep fighting. The saws that finished off the other serpent are headed my way.

This one must have missed the show. It whips me back and around, squeezing tighter.

My eyes fly open as the serpent drops closer to the charging blades. With all my strength, I arch my back, attempting to throw us the other way.

Except the serpent won’t surrender its hold.

It fights against my weight, rolling us back and onto the spinning blades. We fall sideways onto all four saws as they cross. One of them slices through the creature and into my left arm. It stings like hell, but I can still flex the muscle, so hopefully the damage isn’t too bad.

The serpent worked against itself. As the blades sliced through its flesh, its dense muscles and bones shielded me.

Its hold loosens, and I push through the corpse, shoving the heavy coils away.

Still acutely focused on the location of the buzzing sound, I avoid the blades multiple times.

I skid along, grabbing my axe the moment I spot it.

I’m out of breath and holding my side to quell the shooting pain in my ribs. When the fifth and final serpent attacks, my sliced arm is practically useless. I swing the blade, and it cuts into the beast’s throat but doesn’t clear it.

No matter. It’s enough to weaken it. I hold out my arms and snag it, my left arm around its neck and the other grasping its thick body, preventing the serpent from coiling around me. As the next set of blades arrives, I pitch it right on top of them.

I fix my glare on the royal box, axe draped over my shoulder as I stalk to the beat of the music. Maeve is no longer trying to lunge at Soro. She’s pacing.

Pega leaps onto the next crate with more difficulty than I wish. The way she cradles her broken arm against her chest throws off her balance. I nod my encouragement. Right now, she’s on her own.

The melody ends at the next crate. I almost forget to stop. This was easy. Too easy. I don’t waste time worrying about it. As with the first crate, I break down the locks with one strike of the axe.

I whirl to the side when I kick the door open. Nothing happens. Like with Pega’s crate, all is quiet. I sneak a glimpse, and that’s all I need.

Luther… Fuck me. Whatever mental game they’re playing, it isn’t going to work.

Like Pega, he was drugged. But unlike Pega, he’s already halfway through unwrapping his chains. I enter slowly as he makes it to a standing position. He hobbles forward, leaning heavily on his diminished left leg.

I’m covered in a mix of blood and sand. All in all, I resemble a swamp creature parents warn their children against feeding. “Hey, Luther,” I say.

He smiles. “What the plan?”

“You’re going to the top of the crate. Pega will explain the rest.”

“Pega?” At my nod, he narrows his brown eyes. “Bastards.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Ready?” I ask, not really asking. Ugeen called them a test of endurance, so I’ll wonder if the longer I spend in one place, the more likely those blades are to “randomly” appear underfoot. I’m not eager to test it.

He shuffles forward. It takes Luther stepping on my shrieking back and Pega pulling him up, but he makes it to the top, half drugged and glistening in the sun. That’s my buddy, Luther. The crate creaks, and I’m not sure it’ll support his weight.

But then the music resumes and it’s not my problem anymore. It’s fast this time, forcing me to take off in a sprint.

“Tell him, show him,” I shout over my shoulder.

I can’t be sure they’ll stay safe, but I can’t help them if they’re not.

I run at full speed to match the tempo, and as I pass the crate where I found Luther, it explodes. The blast propels me at an angle, and I land in a roll, hanging tight to my axe and sword.

The music keeps going, and so do I.

I circle the perimeter twice more before the music abruptly ends. I slide, digging my battered heel and my axe into the sand to stop. The front of my boot barely grazes the space between the crates.

The spears shoot up as if on springs, and I’m showered with sand.

“Damn!” Luther shouts a few crates behind me. That’s the quickest that giant has ever spoken.

If not for that shrill laugh of the vampire colt, I wouldn’t move right away.

Aside from the anxious whispering, the arena is quiet as I prowl forward.

Luther and Pega peer over from a crate three down from mine. They know what it is. It’s why they’re hiding.

Pega curses.

Luther does little more than shake his head.

Just another few feet and I’m at the crate door.

Again, the colt laughs. Again, she kicks. She’s ready to eat.

I’m ready to feed her—just not what she expects.

I charge, the last few yards between us vanishing beneath my feet. With a roar, I bring down my axe.

On the last two locks.

The colt rams the door. Bitch doesn’t realize she has to kick herself free the rest of the way.

I edge away from the door in the direction I came from.

I watch.

I wait.

I buy some time.

It’s not much.

It’s just enough.

The rules state I’m supposed to open the crate. Nothing says I have to open it all the way.

The colt uses her back legs to kick, exactly as I thought.

She breaks through, stumbling backward and facing away from me. I don’t wait for her to gather her wits. She’s out. That means I can run anywhere within the circle.

I crash my axe down on the locks of the next crate, which is home to some bellowing, snuffling beast, and circle behind it. Ugeen said I had to open the crate in front of me but never that I couldn’t open others. That eerie laugh grows shriller and closer. She’s tickled pink and coming for me.

But the troll bear I just released is coming for her .

He’s a big boy. A strong boy. The kind of boy that’s more than capable of breaking the rest of the crate door. The door slams into the colt just as she spots me. She may be a killer, but so is the troll bear. He shuts her down, jumping on the remains of the door and pinning her to the sand.

The colt hisses. Yes, hisses . Her long tongue shoots out to ensnare the bear’s throat. The bear must have had a relative killed by a vampire colt, because he reacts instantly, slicing her tongue with sharp claws.

She doesn’t appreciate that, and for all his brawn, the bear lacks serious brains. He smacks at her, disregarding the deadly points protruding from her neck.

My rescue bear ends up stabbing himself through the paw. Twice.

That familiar buzzing sound zings through the sand. It’s time to move.

I don’t wait to see what happens next.

I take off with my buddy the axe and my best friend the sword. I don’t care who wins between the monsters behind me. Either way, the victor will be famished once their fight is done. It’s up to me to provide the meal. I bypass the clawed and splintered crate. I won’t waste my time breaking something open that can break free on its own.

It’s my mistake.

And I pay for it.

I pick the next crate, busting down the hinges secured by the padlocks. Then I press my back against the side wall, waiting for something with fangs to skitter out.

My shoulders droop. It’s quiet. Just as it was when I found Pega and Luther. The door creaks open when I push it with my axe. I don’t have to see the face of the person cowering in the corner to know who it is.

The scars covering his head are telling enough.