The Meldeneans came streaming from every street and alleyway, sabres flashing as they tore into the red-armoured throng. The Arisai fought, as they were made to, killing with happy abandon, but for all their skill and ferocity they had no counter to the tide of pirates that swept over them, islands of red soon swamped and drowned in a scant few moments. The Meldeneans shouted their victory to the sky, sabres raised and heads thrown back in feral triumph.
“Took them long enough,” Lekran muttered as the carnage subsided.
Frentis turned to find Weaver standing over Master Rensial, head cocked as he cast a critical eye over his leg. “Can you help him?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, brother.” The healer shook his head with a grimace, then raised his gaze to a massive curved structure rising above the rooftops to the west. “I have a sense I will soon need all my strength.”
• • •
He left Master Rensial in the care of the Meldeneans, most of whom seemed content to stay and loot the many vacant houses, proving deaf to entreaties to join the advance on the arena. Frentis could find no sign of Fleet Lord Ell-Nurin, or any other Meldenean of appreciable rank beyond that of second mate, so was obliged to leave them to their rewards and move on. They found Thirty-Four stitching a cut on Draker’s arm a few streets on, the dozen surviving members of the newly appointed captain’s company clustered around them amidst the bodies of some thirty Arisai.
“Can’t you get through one battle without a wound?” Illian asked Draker, her caustic tone leavened somewhat by the affectionate hand she ran through his shaggy hair.
“I do like my souvenirs,” he replied, teeth gritted as Thirty-Four tied off the thread. He raised an apologetic gaze to Frentis and nodded at something lying nearby. “Sorry, brother.”
Slasher lay on his side with Blacktooth whining as she nuzzled his head. A short sword was buried in his chest and an Arisai slumped dead against a nearby wall, his face a ruin of chewed gore.
“We can’t linger,” Frentis said, tearing his gaze away to survey the drained, pale faces of all present. There were perhaps a third of the number that had followed him from New Kethia.
“Captain,” he said to Draker, “form your people up as a rear-guard. Sister, take the archers and scout the approach to the arena.”
“Surely there can’t be any left after this,” Sister Merial said. Her pallor was slightly improved, though the red smudges around her eyes and nose spoke of an attempt to conceal her exhaustion.
“We thought the same back in Eskethia,” he told her. “Stay by me and do not use your gift again except in direst need.”
The dense maze of streets soon gave way to broad avenues and parks, also littered with corpses. They were mostly black-clad here, plus a few slaves cut down at they tended the grass or polished the bronze statues. Of the Arisai, however, there was no sign. A hundred yards ahead the streets fell away completely to reveal the arena, every fighter and Politai come to a halt at the sight of it, the gently curving, red-gold tiers made vivid in the sun. They could hear a great tumult from within, thousands of voices raised in adulation, no doubt of some dreadful spectacle orchestrated by their Empress.
“No guards,” Illian reported. “As far as we can tell it’s completely undefended.”
Frentis looked at Weaver, for the first time seeing a troubled wrinkle to his brow as he regarded the arena, even a twitch of fear to his lips.
Weaver’s brow smoothed as he turned to him, banishing the fear with a faint smile. “I do not believe there is any safe place today, brother.”
Frentis nodded, stepping forward and turning to address them all, finding his voice hoarse and having to force the words out. “You have all done more than I could ever ask. Wait here, Weaver and I will proceed alone.”
There was no response, nor any change in expression as they all, as one, took a step forward.
“I do not know what awaits us in there,” he told them, hearing the note of desperation in his voice. “But I know many of us will not survive it . . .”
“Wasting time, brother,” Draker said. Beside him Illian hefted her crossbow, meeting his gaze with expectant eyes.
