The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,155
crimes. Witnesses have come forth to argue against him.” Serovek wondered who these mysterious witnesses were. To his knowledge, only Bryzant had slandered him to Rodan.
“According to Beladine law, he may be tried before a tribunal or...” Rodan paused for effect, and the crowd held its collective breath. Serovek rolled his eyes. “have his innocence or guilt decided in judicial combat. A fight to the death.” This time the crowd held its silence, and the silence pulsed like a beating heart. “Long has it been since we in Timsiora have witnessed trial by combat—a fight to the death—but today we will. A champion has come forth to fight in Lord Pangion's name and Lord Pangion has accepted.”
It was Serovek's turn to growl, and Rodan glanced over his shoulder to flash him a wolfish smile at his obvious lie. The crowd erupted once more, this time with cheers and calls for a fight to begin. The king gave a signal and a gate at one end of the amphitheater opened up admitting Anhuset who, from this distance, looked small but not at all diminished as she strode toward the center of the arena. “My people,” Rodan shouted above the din of unsure cheers, “I give you Anhuset of the Kai kingdom of Bast-Haradis, champion of Lord Serovek Pangion.” The cheers, which had been quieter at first as the crowd gawked and pointed at the formidable silver and gray Kai woman standing tall in her heavy armor, rose to even greater volume when she pivoted sharply to face the king and offered him the Kai salute reserved for a monarch.
Serovek nearly choked on his own spittle when he saw it. He'd made it a point to learn more about his Elder race neighbors over the years, becoming mostly fluent in their language. He'd fought beside them on patrols, fought against them in raids, and diced with them in their barracks. He'd danced with their women during their festivals, rode with their regent into battle against demons, and fell in love with one of their high-ranking officers. The Kai salute was dramatic, sharp, and forceful. A thump to the chest with the fist before the arm straightened and was held stiffly to the side. It was also very similar to a much more vulgar Kai gesture in which the fist opened up to a spread hand before the arm straightened. A subtle change gone unnoticed by those unfamiliar with Kai gestures and lingo, which the king and likely every soul in Timsiora could count themselves. An obvious change to the Kai and to Serovek. Anhuset had just told the king in front of thousands of his subjects to go fuck himself.
She might well lose this fight and die this day as his champion, but she would do so undefeated. Serovek swore in that moment if she perished, he truly had nothing to lose, and Rodan would pay a heavy price for his paranoia.
Rodan gave a regal nod, accepting her insult with all the pomposity it definitely didn't deserve. Serovek clenched his jaw to keep from laughing out loud. His amusement was short lived when the king told Anhuset, “Choose your weapons, Anhuset, for you are about to meet your opponent.”
Dread replaced humor but Serovek's jaw stayed clenched as he leaned to the side like everyone else in the king's party when he signaled and another gate matching the one Anhuset came through opened on the opposite end. The tension in the forum was thick enough to walk on as they waited for someone to enter the arena. Anhuset stood by the weapons rack to make her choice once she saw her adversary.
Someone never emerged but something did.
A monstrosity the size of a small horse, encased in hard black scales, scuttled into the arena on multiple fast-moving legs that sent showers of sand into the air with its passing. Its long, segmented tail was equal in length to its body and arched over its back, tipped with a barb as big as a dagger and dripped a black liquid which left smoking puddles in the sand. A pair of massive front pincers, serrated along one inner edge, curved in front of its body acting as both shield and weaponry guaranteed to rip apart anything they managed to grab. The crowd screamed together, and several people abandoned their seats, trampling over those in the aisles in a bid to escape.
Serovek's own bellow stayed trapped in his throat, though his eyes ached from bulging from their