Mikros Leonidas's Arc

Chapter 10 of 11

The far gate groaned wider. It stood taller than any Mikros had seen, dark as a well. Something moved behind it, slow and heavy. Mikros gripped Cassandra's spear and watched. He knew nothing about what waited inside. A beast he could study. But a shape he could not see left him blind. He could not pick his tactics without knowing what charged out. So he tried the one tool he still had. He took a breath through his nose. The red nose fused to his armor caught the air. Smoke. Wet fur. Under it, a sour rot, like meat left in sun. He had smelled that rot once before, on the manticore. Mikros's grip tightened. Whatever waited was big, and it was no demon of grief. This one had teeth. "It stinks of the pit," he called to the sand's edge. "Cassandra. How fast can your spear strike twice?" Cassandra stood with her fists on the rail. The tall red-haired inventor had built this weapon six times to get it right. She never praised her own work past the facts. "Twice before a heartbeat," she said. "Aim low. Its guard sits high." She tapped her own chest. "Hit under the ribs." Mikros nodded. Her plain answer told him more than the gate did. He was small. His low stance was built for striking under a tall foe's reach. If the thing came out swinging high, he would go beneath it, the way he always did. Empress Gelda leaned forward on her falcon claws. Her green lips pressed thin. She despised short people, and she had sworn Mikros the worst trial of all. "Sniffing the air like a dog," she said. Her voice landed flat. "Smell will not save you. Open it fully." Guards hauled the gate to its full width. Mikros stared into the black mouth. He saw two eyes catch the light, low and yellow. Then a horned head pushed into the sun. The beast walked on four thick legs. Its back scraped the gate's top. It breathed that rot straight at him, and it swung its horned skull high to charge. Mikros did not freeze. The smell had warned him. The high horns had warned him. He dropped into his low crouch and ran straight at the legs. The beast's horns tore the air above his head and hit nothing. Mikros slid beneath its chest and drove the spear up, under the ribs, where Cassandra said to aim. He struck twice, fast, before the beast could turn. The creature screamed and crashed onto its side. Dust rose. Mikros rolled clear and stood, spear red, chest heaving. He had learned the beast before it reached him, and the knowing had won. Empress Gelda rose from her seat. Her claws snapped the stone armrest clean through. "Enough small trials," she said. She did not shout. "I will face the jester myself."