Igor Ironbeast's Arc

Chapter 4 of 9

Igor left the training yard with the small dragon at his heel. The sun climbed. The court would come for him before dusk, and he needed to know where Kong stood before a blade found his back. A warlord who kept a strange beast alive was not a warlord who spoke plain. Igor meant to ask him plain. He found Kong in the gallery above the fight pit. The warlord leaned on the timber rail, one gauntlet resting on the wood, the other hanging over the drop. Below, servants raked the sand of the arena flat. Torches waited in iron brackets along the stone wall. The pit smelled of old blood and pitch. Two figures stood at Kong's back. The skeleton in broken armor held a dagger loose in his finger bones. His eye sockets burned yellow. Rattle Boneshire. The court's knife. He did not turn when Igor entered. He did not need to. Beside him, a masked rider sat astride a huge pale wolf. The wolf's paws made no sound on the stone. The rider's white mask tilted toward Igor. Shade Nightfang. The one the court had sent to watch him die. Igor stopped at the rail. Emberling crouched at his boot. "You brought your escort," Igor said. Kong did not look at him. "They follow me. They do not answer to me." "Then answer me yourself. The champion at dusk. Is he your man or theirs?" Kong's good eye moved. It found Igor. It held. "Ask a straight question and I will remember it," Kong said. "You want to know if I want you dead." "Yes." Rattle's finger bones tightened on the dagger hilt. The wolf's ears flattened. Igor kept his hand off the axe. He watched Kong's jaw. He watched the milk-white eye and the good one. Kong laughed once, short and dry. He turned from the rail. He walked to Igor and stopped a pace away. He was a head taller. His breath smelled of iron. "If I wanted you dead, stray, you would be dead in the yard this morning with your beast beside you." He tapped Igor's chest with one scarred knuckle. "I want you tested. There is a difference. Win at dusk and I will know the difference is worth keeping." He looked down at Emberling. He looked at Rattle. He looked at the masked rider. "These two will be in the gallery," Kong said. "Watch the gallery, not the sand." He walked past Igor and out. Rattle followed on silent bone feet. The wolf turned and padded after them. The rider did not look back. Igor set his hand on the rail. The wood was cold. He had his answer. Kong would not order the killing blow. The court would. And the court would swing it from the gallery while he bled in the pit. He went down the stone steps to ready his axe.