The coiled beast sprung, and, beneath the Full Dry Moon, two rebels, hundreds of miles apart, sliced through each of the monsters bearing down upon them. Beasts two, three, even four times their size were slashed and stabbed as each rebel danced among their claws and dodged their snapping jaws.
The whole Arena shook with the crowd’s elation. It felt like the earth would break open. And in the box, Jac knew that it very likely was, because with each slash the woman landed and each swipe she dodged, with each member of the crowd who stomped their feet and screamed their appreciation, the Crown Prince grew more still. More calm. And that meant nothing good.
A huge shelled beast that kept its belly close to the ground lunged at Tobei with speed that such an awkward-looking creature should not have. He slashed at its face, spraying black blood, but his magic only bounced off that weathered black shell, and it lunged once more.
The woman caught two claws to her left shoulder, the first wound she’d taken tonight—from a monster, at least. It did no more than stutter her step, and she buried her sword in the beast’s paw and ripped, cleaving its foot in two. But it bought her no time—the next beast was already upon her.
It took Tobei and Ohara to flip the shelled beast on its back, and Tila to open its guts upon the tracks. Turning on the next monster, Tobei shouted, “This is what I spoke of, friends! True freedom!”
Stolen novel; please report.
“We’re just trying not to die!”
“Then you’re not doing it right!”
The Arena was in a frenzy. Barely any sand was left visible for all the black blood, reflecting the heavens above. Reflecting the clouds rolling in from nowhere, fat and full with Iabelia’s tears. It was supposed to be this woman’s blood that stained the sand to honor the Daughter, but she seemed as ecstatic as the crowd to receive this offering instead.
Three beasts left, their glittering eyes mad with hunger. None of them considered for a moment that they might be better off starving in their cages than facing down this woman and her dull sword. They surrounded her panting, filthy figure, their black bodies coiled, crouched low enough that their bellies dragged in the sticky sand.
The woman was still crying. Whether it was fear, rage, grief, or ecstasy that cut shimmering trails down her grimy cheeks was impossible to know, even for her. Her muscles were as taut as the beasts around her, and though she looked so small and so naked and so very alone down there with three enormous beasts staring her down, no one could deny that she was as much a predator as they were.
Her shriek shattered the night. “COME ON!”
Just as the first rain drop hit the sand, the beast before her lunged—