Mikros Leonidas's Arc

Chapter 9 of 11

The deep gate ground open. Metal shrieked against stone, and the sound set Mikros's teeth on edge. He raised Cassandra's spear and watched the black opening. But no beast charged out. Instead a voice rolled from the dark. A deep bass, singing a slow and mournful song. The words spoke of children lost and homes burned. Every note dripped sorrow. The crowd went quiet. People shifted in their seats, uneasy. Mikros did not lower the spear. He knew this trick. The empress wanted him broken before a single blow landed. He stepped toward the gate. From the shadow shuffled a small gray creature with drooping eyes and a sagging mouth. It wrung its thin hands and kept singing. It was a demon of unhappiness, Gloomy Doomy, sent to drown him in grief. The song listed cruel things the demon had done to innocents. It aimed every verse at Mikros, trying to make him weep and freeze. From the stands, Empress Gelda leaned forward on her falcon claws. Her green lips curled. "Let the little jester cry," she said. Her voice landed flat and cold. "Grief is the worst trial. He cannot stab a song." The demon's voice swelled. It sang of a mother who watched her village fall. Mikros felt the weight of it press on his chest. His arms grew heavy. The crowd began to sob. Some covered their faces. The song was winning. Then a sharp cry cut through. "Hey! Red nose!" Cassandra stood at the sand's edge, fists up. She counted anything past two tries a failure, and she never softened a word. "You killed a manticore. You killed a fire-lizard. A sad puppet doesn't get to beat you. Move your feet!" Her plain words snapped him loose. Mikros thought of his promise to return and brag. He would not fall to a song. He grinned under his glowing nose and charged. The demon sang louder, but Mikros did not slow. He drove the spear's butt into the creature's gut and knocked the wind from it. The song broke into a wheeze. Mikros grabbed the demon by its spiky collar and lifted the small thing high. "Sing for them," Mikros shouted to the crowd. He shook the demon until its moans turned into a squeak. The frightened wail sounded foolish now, not terrible. The crowd laughed. For once, the laughter was not aimed at Mikros. He dropped the demon on the sand, and it scuttled back into the gate it came from. Mikros turned to the imperial seats and raised the spear. He had beaten the worst trial without shedding a tear. Empress Gelda sat back. Her claws dug grooves in the armrest. "The next trial," she said, slow and hard, "will not be a song." She raised one talon toward a far gate, taller and darker than the first. Something inside it began to move.