Chapter 19 Dahvid Tin’vori

Once more, Dahvid had a hood on his head.

He held tight to Cath's hand as the two of them stumbled on, shoulder to shoulder. A pair of guards was either leading them to a party or an execution. It all felt a bit theatrical. Dahvid had wondered this before his first meeting with Ravinia's famous warlord. If Darling had one of the largest estates in the city, why bother with hoods? It seemed likely that people knew where his home was and how to get there. So why the need for secrecy? He thought it might be an exercise in power. One more way to remind everyone of their standing before Ravinia's uncrowned king.

A rough hand slid the hood away. Night had come in earnest as they walked. There were stars overhead, countless in number. The only other lights were twinkling along the exterior of Darling's estate. Bodies moved in the darknesses between each of those glinting, amber orbs—and music trembled across the dunes to them.

"Just follow the path," one of the guards said. "It's safer if you're quick about it."

Dahvid wasn't sure if that was a real warning or more exaggeration. He did know there were sand prowlers and horned crabs that preferred the rockier coastlines in the north. It would be quite a spectacle if their great scheme ended with him getting speared on the dunes by an aggressive crustacean. Cath slid her arm through his, and they started through the shadows together. They did not speak, except to point out their favorite constellations. The two of them had already established a strategy for how they'd act if they were invited to a function like this one. There were four rules:

Do not leave each other's sight.

Do not mention the Broods.

Do not talk about his tattoos.

Flirt with each other as much as possible.

It was Dahvid's choice to add the last one. He thought it was important. They ascended a set of wooden steps and found themselves on the first of a series of sprawling balconies. The connected platforms formed a sort of blockade between the actual estate and the distant ocean. Each shadow took on a face in the flickering torchlight. Dahvid spied other gladiators, politicians, escorts.

At the very heart of their current platform, there was hired entertainment. A man and woman were twisting around each other—their clothing tight, their movements sinuous. It looked strange until he and Cath stepped a little closer. Music flickered to life. A perfect beat that matched the rhythm of the two dancers.

Dahvid took a step back and the music faded. Now, that was clever magic. A proximity charm of some kind. Anyone who cared to enjoy the music only had to step forward, but if they preferred a quiet conversation, they could move to the railing, out of range. He thought it was the kind of magic that Ware would have loved.

Cath tugged him away from the dancers, up another flight of stairs. The second platform was long and narrow. More walkway than gathering space. Along the oceanside railing, a number of looking glasses had been built into the metal bearings. Each one appeared to be a different size and shape. Dahvid and Cath followed another couple, leaning down to glance through the lenses, one by one. The first took Dahvid's breath away.

He witnessed a fast-moving sequence. The dunes and the ocean and the sky before him now, but in reverse. Stars faded. The sun rose and fell. The image cycled back through time, revealing storms and quieter days and ships passing off the coast. He witnessed what felt like several weeks, all in less than a minute. Dizzied, he followed Cath to the next looking glass. This one offered the most beautiful sunrise he'd ever seen. Colors so bright that they didn't even look real. He watched the waves retreat soundlessly before moving onto the third.

His heartbeat doubled in his chest. It was a bright, clear day. Out over the water, dragons. The extinct gods of this land. He knew they were all dead and buried. But for a moment, Dahvid watched them live again. Their glittering wings beat the air before widening back out to glide over the water. If not for Cath's touch on his shoulder, he might have sat there watching their graceful flights forever.

The last one. Dahvid expected this looking glass to somehow usurp the others. A challenge, no doubt, after traveling back through time and witnessing dragons. He bent down and was rewarded with the exact same view he could see with his own eyes. He squinted for some time, trying to discern what unique image was on display, but there was nothing.

He frowned at Cath. "What is this one?"

"It's just the stars," Cath replied. "I'm not sure. Maybe that's the point? They're magical in their own right."

There was one more staircase to climb. The two of them found the main balcony waiting for them at the top. It was three times the size of the other platforms, and far more densely crowded. Dahvid saw, too, that it was where the brightest stars in Ravinia orbited one another.

On his right, Agatha Marchment was in conversation with one of the city's dockmasters. Her figure was slight and unsparing. She did not look like the most vicious creature in the northern hemisphere, but Dahvid knew better. Even after a cursory inspection, he saw eight different weapons arranged neatly about her person. He could trace the potential movements—and attacks—that would force her to reach for each one. Dahvid knew she was older than she'd been when she won her gauntlet, but Darling's head general was likely one of the few gladiators that he simply could not beat in a duel. He quietly hoped that she'd retired from brawling.

It was hard not to notice the other legendary gladiators in the crowd. There was Little Ben, who'd famously died three separate times in the arena—only to drain his opponent with a final spell that brought him back to life. Next to him, Dahvid spied Beatrice Lively—who rode a livestone warthog into her duels. Even the Bearling was there, sipping a dark beer in the shadows. That was a surprise. Dahvid had left him for dead on the arena floor. He was glad the man had pulled through. He wore his graying hair slicked neatly back and respectfully raised his glass in salute when he spotted Dahvid.

As Cath led him deeper into the crowd, they finally saw the evening's main attraction: a fighting pit. Of course. The circle was carved out of the wooden beams with great precision. About twelve feet below them, two creatures kicked up sand as they probed at each other's defenses. Dahvid could hear the clacking jaws and pincers. He moved close enough to get a proper angle on the action. Two armored crabs. By far the biggest he'd ever seen. Both the size of full-grown dogs, their claws extending out from hardened carapaces. As he watched, the larger one bull-rushed the other.

There was a resounding clank. The crowd roared as the smaller crab skidded back through the sand. It barely kept its footing. The big one backpedaled, gearing up for another charge, when Dahvid finally spotted Darling. The warlord sat directly across from him—or at least the beautiful version did. His face was bright and oiled. His dark curls were arranged neatly. He looked like a painting in the dying light. Dahvid resisted looking just over the man's right shoulder. He could sense someone watching him from that darkness, and he saw the linked chain running in that direction. That was where the real Darling sat, a god in the shadows.

The big crab committed to another bull rush, but at the very last moment, the smaller crab darted to the right. Dahvid saw a claw shoot out beneath the other's carapace. There was a painful hiss as it found its mark. The iron claws clamped down tight on the back leg of the larger crab and started to twist. No matter how much the bigger one writhed, it wasn't fast enough to free itself. Everyone was shouting. Darling's proxy smiled down with satisfaction. Dahvid guessed the smaller crab was their champion.

The fight ended with a sickening crunch. The back leg had been severed, and the larger crab slumped to one side. There were shouts to finish the creature that turned Dahvid's stomach. All of it felt too familiar. How long before it was him down there? Facing his own life and death?

"I'm going to go look inviting," he whispered to Cath. "Stay here."

He grabbed a drink from a passing servant. There was an empty space by the railing. He leaned against it and sipped, hoping the reason he'd been invited tonight would appear. He did not have to wait for long. There was some satisfaction in watching Darling's handservants cross the distance to join him. Just like his first visit, the pair made a great show of wanting to talk, but it was all an effort to veil their master's approach. One complimented him on his recent victory in the Western Pits. The other asked if there was anything that they could arrange for him before his next battle. All pointless chatter. A suspicion that was confirmed by the fact that as soon as Darling arrived, the servants melted back into the crowd as if they'd never been there at all. The beautiful Darling leaned almost flirtatiously against the railing, perfectly blocking Dahvid's view of the other one. He raised his glass to the warlord.

"To your health."

Amusement flickered over Darling's pretty face. He raised his own glass with the barest of efforts. "And to yours. I was not present at your recent match. How did you like Golden?"

"I nearly fell asleep fighting him."

That dragged a laugh from both Darlings. "Paladins aren't very interesting. Effective but boring. That's why I like them, though. I've found if you set them beside a proper fighter, it draws out the colors even more. I'm told the crowd was pleased with you."

Dahvid nodded. "In the end, yes."

"The end is all that really matters," Darling noted. "They only ever talk about how it ended. Not the feint you made at the start of the fight. Not the strategy that positioned you to make your killing blow. No, all they'll tell their friends the next day is which fighter is still breathing."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

The pretty face stretched into a too-bright smile. "Once upon a time. Now that we've displayed you, it's time for a proper title bout. If you want to be paid like a champion, you have to beat a champion. Look around. All my best are here tonight. You can be one of them."

Dahvid followed the gesture. His eyes located Cath first. She was standing right where he'd left her, sipping a drink, watching the next fight. Then his eyes were moving from gladiator to gladiator to gladiator. This was what Nevelyn had warned him about. Her fear had been that he was advancing too quickly and would be put to the test far too soon.

"Normally, I would choose someone that I felt was a perfectly balanced match for you," Darling said. "I like a coin flip as much as the next person. Maybe you win. Maybe you die. It's the kind of fight that separates the wheat from the chaff. All of my favorites face a test like that."

Dahvid was listening closely. "You said ‘normally.'?"

"Yes. I did." The chain rattled as the pretty Darling shifted his stance. "The Broods have increased their presence in Ravinia. If they'd come to my city making threats, I would have shoved my boot straight down their throat. But they didn't make threats.…"

Dahvid sighed. "They offered money."

"They offered money," Darling confirmed. "A onetime payment, but that's not all they offered. They wanted to send their own fighter. Someone they knew would draw a crowd."

For a brief moment, Dahvid allowed himself to believe that they were sending Thugar Brood. He wanted it so badly. He'd hungered for that fight for so long. But that didn't make sense. The rest of the world had not survived by feeding on this hatred. Darling couldn't possibly know about it. And Dahvid suspected the Broods would not be foolish enough to send their heir to fight in a gladiator pit. There were other, more rational answers.

"I do not like being ordered around," Darling said. "I serve no man. But their offer was tempting. Too tempting for me to refuse. We have agreed to terms. You will duel Able Ockley."

Dahvid's entire world spun. Until now, the concern had been preserving his secrets. Nevelyn had known that a champion duel in the Western Pits would force him to use several key abilities. He also knew that some of his tattoos took longer to restore than others. He could summon his sword once every five minutes, as needed. But the scarlet traveler? He could use that tattoo once a month, at best. Burning one of his tattoos in a match had meant potentially not having it for his gauntlet attempt—which then meant not having certain abilities for his showdown with the Broods.

Able Ockley changed everything. Dahvid would be lucky to survive the fight even if he burned all his tattoos. The man was notorious. By far the most respected duelist in living memory.

"Well," Dahvid finally said. "That is unfortunate."

Not just unfortunate. It was a death sentence. At best, it would ruin their plans entirely. He could not hope to defeat Ockley and then turn around and win a gauntlet within their desired time frame. Darling's decision would ruin them. Dahvid turned back to look out over the ocean, leaning his forearms against the railing. His eyes traced the barely visible waves—brief slashes of white against the endless black. Darling unexpectedly grabbed his forearm.

"I don't want to die," the pretty man begged. "I don't want to die."

There was a sharp pull on the chains. The dancer's entire body was dragged back a few steps, stumbling away from Dahvid. The desperation on his features smoothed out instantly. Dahvid could only stare in shock as the bright smile was forced back onto that pretty face. What was that? Had Darling's spell faltered for a moment? He stared until the two voices spoke, and he could hear the gravelly voice more audibly than ever.

"My apologies," the warlord said. "You've stirred my emotions. Please know you fascinated me. I was eager to work with you—and to work with you for a long time. I truly hope you have enough to beat Ockley. We will make sure you have everything you need between now and then. There is a detailed record of his duels from the last time he visited the city. I'll make sure they're sent to you. It would be a fine coup if one of our own defeated Kathor's golden son. Please ask anything of my servants, and I'll make sure they attend to it. I wish there was some other way forward, but it always comes back to money. In this case, your life isn't worth nearly as much as your death. I do hope you'll survive. But if you don't…"

He shrugged those pretty shoulders. The chain rattled slightly.

"Enjoy the rest of your night."

It did not take long for Cath to notice that Dahvid was alone. He was still too shocked to move. When he did not move from the railing, she slid through the crowd to join him. Her dress billowed behind her. He thought he'd never seen someone quite so beautiful as her. Or maybe that was the inevitable thought of his own death talking.

"Well?"

"Change of plans."

She frowned. "What?"

"I'll be right back."

There was no other way. He needed to act now. Before it was too late. There'd been no public announcement yet. He felt quite certain that Darling was entrusting this information to him because of some misguided sense of sympathy. A warning shot to help Dahvid start mentally preparing for what was to come. The gambling halls had no idea of the news. Likely they wouldn't until morning. It gave Dahvid the smallest window in which to intervene. He secretly wished Nevelyn were there to confirm his decision. He hoped this was the wisest route, but deep down, he knew there was no route left to him that was wise. All of them were perilous.

Darling was back at the front of the crowd. He was watching some petty fight unfold below him. Dahvid pushed forward and raised his voice to a guttural, rattling shout.

"Darling!"

Everyone fell quiet. There was a small buzzing down in the pits, but every other sound died away. He saw hands drifting silently to weapons. Agatha Marchment was shadowing over to his position without making a sound. Dahvid raised his voice again.

"Darling. I challenge you. A gauntlet!"

His words echoed over the dunes.

"My name is Dahvid Tin'Vori. Before all of these witnesses, I challenge you to a gauntlet. I will defeat five of your champions. And when the last one takes their final breath, I will make my demand of you. Do you accept my challenge?"

He saw a run of emotions on Darling's face. Surprise, anger, humor. Eventually the pretty man settled on a grisly sort of smile. Dahvid already knew what he would say. They had studied all the rules. Darling's system worked because he was an immovable object. Always, he responded in the same way. Everyone waited for the warlord's answer, but there was only one possible response.

"Challenge accepted," Darling called back. "Let there be a gauntlet."

There was a great roar from the crowd. Champions were already clamoring to their lord, asking to be one of the chosen five. He saw one final look of annoyance cross Darling's features, and then Dahvid turned away from the scene. He reached for Cath's hand. Together, they glided down the stairs. Past the glittering eyeglasses and all the pretty things, back out into the waiting jaws of the night. Cath kept asking what happened. Why did he do that? It was far too soon.

Dahvid offered no answers. There were guards waiting for them with hoods. Ready to escort them back to Ravinia. He dipped his head down, and the world went completely dark once more. His stomach turned as he stared into the disorienting black.

He could not help wondering if this was what death looked like.

Like nothing at all.