As Anders and his friends were led out to arena's sands, he reflected on the gossip he'd overheard between two of the Sultana's guards.
One had whispered, "I cannot believe she let them go. I thought the plan was to finish them..."
The other glanced about before replying, "You weren't there. The fight was like something you've never seen. They fought like ancient heroes come to life! Nobody should have survived what hellish forces they faced. I tell you, if she had tried to have them executed, the crowd would have torn this city apart. She knew it. It was not mercy, but survival that forced the Sultana's hand. Besides, who would have attacked them?"
He coughed sharply, then quickly drew himself up straight and glanced about them again, "I mean I would have obeyed", he stressed, "and maybe a few loyal and valiant others; but I believe that many of our brothers would have fled rather than facing them..."
Anders had to smile at that, but it was short-lived. A doubt as to his own prospects began to grow in his mind as his wiser, if darker, sensabilites condisidered the situation anew.
Anders and his crew came out out of the prison entrance and onto the arena sands. The heat shimmered off the sands like a djinn's tail, and the sun bore no mercy. The stands were packed full of wretches hoping to see another such spectacle as Larissa and her men had given; but Anders knew the truth of it. Now was the time for the Sultana to reassert her power. She would do all that she could to crush him and his companions while making it look as if they had a chance.
He was happy that Larissa was free, but he knew what it meant for him. He had begun to suspect what might be in store; but when the guards handed him gear that looked like his own, but were cheap imitations instead, hastily constucted of inferior materials, his fears were realized. The Sultana held all of the cards, and this time she was playing to win. Larissa's victory had cost her too much to risk breeding hope among her people, and Anders was about to feel the tyrant's sandle on his neck to allow her to re-establish her dominance.
Some cheers went up when he and his companions were introduced. The crowd especially loved the golden dragon that he had befriended, but the priestess of iron and the dwarf cheiftan also had their fans. The crowd went silent when the opposition arrived, however.
It came not from the pens or the prison as was usually the case, but flew in from the open desert, accompanied by flocks of noisy songbirds. It was a large, lion-bodied, and winged magical-beast with the head of a human. It seemed female, but with strong, broad features that could have appeared noble, but for that maw of feline needle-teeth, those seven-inch claws, and its baleful yellow cat's eyes.
It spoke in a deep, smooth rumble, in some language that Anders could not comprehend, and the Sultana herself replied in kind. Some sort of agreement was reached and the thing cast it's malevolent gaze at his party. The signal was given, and the fight began.
It was a bloodbath. Anders was surrounded by swarms of the noisy songbirds, who went for his face and eyes with their sharp beaks. He heard rather than saw the golden dragon's death-throes in the maw of the beast. The priestess swallowed curses as she herself went down under the things deadly claws, and the dwarf lasted little longer, as his mock-greatclub shattered under the force of the first blow he delivered it.
"Who would of thought I'd be eaten by a sphinx?", he marveled when his own mock-longsword broke under him as the songbirds drove him to his back...
One had whispered, "I cannot believe she let them go. I thought the plan was to finish them..."
The other glanced about before replying, "You weren't there. The fight was like something you've never seen. They fought like ancient heroes come to life! Nobody should have survived what hellish forces they faced. I tell you, if she had tried to have them executed, the crowd would have torn this city apart. She knew it. It was not mercy, but survival that forced the Sultana's hand. Besides, who would have attacked them?"
He coughed sharply, then quickly drew himself up straight and glanced about them again, "I mean I would have obeyed", he stressed, "and maybe a few loyal and valiant others; but I believe that many of our brothers would have fled rather than facing them..."
Anders had to smile at that, but it was short-lived. A doubt as to his own prospects began to grow in his mind as his wiser, if darker, sensabilites condisidered the situation anew.
Anders and his crew came out out of the prison entrance and onto the arena sands. The heat shimmered off the sands like a djinn's tail, and the sun bore no mercy. The stands were packed full of wretches hoping to see another such spectacle as Larissa and her men had given; but Anders knew the truth of it. Now was the time for the Sultana to reassert her power. She would do all that she could to crush him and his companions while making it look as if they had a chance.
He was happy that Larissa was free, but he knew what it meant for him. He had begun to suspect what might be in store; but when the guards handed him gear that looked like his own, but were cheap imitations instead, hastily constucted of inferior materials, his fears were realized. The Sultana held all of the cards, and this time she was playing to win. Larissa's victory had cost her too much to risk breeding hope among her people, and Anders was about to feel the tyrant's sandle on his neck to allow her to re-establish her dominance.
Some cheers went up when he and his companions were introduced. The crowd especially loved the golden dragon that he had befriended, but the priestess of iron and the dwarf cheiftan also had their fans. The crowd went silent when the opposition arrived, however.
It came not from the pens or the prison as was usually the case, but flew in from the open desert, accompanied by flocks of noisy songbirds. It was a large, lion-bodied, and winged magical-beast with the head of a human. It seemed female, but with strong, broad features that could have appeared noble, but for that maw of feline needle-teeth, those seven-inch claws, and its baleful yellow cat's eyes.
It spoke in a deep, smooth rumble, in some language that Anders could not comprehend, and the Sultana herself replied in kind. Some sort of agreement was reached and the thing cast it's malevolent gaze at his party. The signal was given, and the fight began.
It was a bloodbath. Anders was surrounded by swarms of the noisy songbirds, who went for his face and eyes with their sharp beaks. He heard rather than saw the golden dragon's death-throes in the maw of the beast. The priestess swallowed curses as she herself went down under the things deadly claws, and the dwarf lasted little longer, as his mock-greatclub shattered under the force of the first blow he delivered it.
"Who would of thought I'd be eaten by a sphinx?", he marveled when his own mock-longsword broke under him as the songbirds drove him to his back...
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Posted on May 18, 2012 12:43
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