The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,157
the day, but you'll do just as you described. You'll go in there without armor, without shield, and still shackled.”
“Then I beg you allow me to go now, Your Majesty,” Serovek replied, sickened by the idea of Anhuset being fed to the abomination she now fought. “Every moment I'm here, I'm not helping her.”
It was the perfect scenario for Rodan. The chances of Anhuset emerging from this fight were slim, Serovek's practically non-existent. The Beladine would have their bloodsport and the heroic margrave would die fighting in the forum helping his champion defend his innocence instead of under an executioner's ax blade at the king's orders. A potential usurper removed as a threat, a king unblemished for ordering the death of a hero. The king barely got out a nod of permission before Serovek was striding for the door, his escort of guards struggling to keep up with him as he raced for the stairwell.
The crowd's cheers reached deafening volumes when he jogged into the forum. He didn't dare call out to Anhuset, whose full concentration was centered on the scarpatine at the far end. He scrambled to find a suitable weapon for himself among wreckage of the weapons rack. There was no shield. Anhuset held the only one provided. Blades and polearms lay scattered in the sand. A sword would be useless against a creature with a carapace that worked like plate armor and was impervious to a sword's slash. He could take out its legs, but he'd have to come in close to do so. No shield meant no protection from that barbed tail which would impale him in an instant. His hand closed around his prize—a crow's beak with its hook on one side, ax blade on the other and spike crowning the top. A two-handed weapon with the long reach to keep him out of the way while he chopped away at the insect's legs. The limited reach caused by his shackles wouldn't stop him from effectively wielding such a weapon against the scarpatine.
He sprinted to where Anhuset and the scarpatine faced off, neither one getting the advantage over the other, though Serovek saw signs of Anhuset tiring. Her adversary remained just as quick, just as agile, and just as intent on making a meal of its annoyingly nimble prey. This close to the thing, his skin crawled at the sight of segmented legs, multiple eyes and bizarre jaws that extended and retracted over and over behind the protective wall of pincers. The spiky hairs covering its legs quivered at his approach, and the scarpatine spun to face this new threat, pincers clicking and snapping a warning.
Anhuset shouted at him over the boom of the audience's cheers. “No armor, no shield, and still in shackles.” She nodded to the crow's beak. “That will help if you can stay out of the way. I'll try to keep it trained on me while you hack away at it.”
She didn't question his presence or admonish him for it. She'd sized up his weaknesses and the challenges they presented and offered a solution for how to minimize both. She might strip off a piece of his hide later if they managed to survive this melée, but for now it was about the fight and only about the fight. It was one of many things about her that enthralled him.
The audience in the stands yelled his name and hers now, baying for blood, whether it was the scarpatine's or theirs. Anhuset balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to dart away the moment the insect lunged at her. “The plan is to stay alive,” she yelled. “But if you have a strategy, I'm listening.”
Serovek's only strategy until now was to convince the king to even let him on the forum grounds. He dodged the vicious tail, easing toward the creature's right side while Anhuset jabbed at its face behind the equally lethal pincers. They were effective shields, batting away the spearhead with ease, almost knocking it out of her hand.
A grim thought occurred to him as he watched Anhuset counter her opponent's moves—a memory of the sly triumph on Rodan's face when he gave permission for Serovek to enter the arena. Serovek didn't dwell on it. Couldn't dwell on it as he threw himself to the side when the tail swung toward him in a sweeping arc of venom droplets. A hot burn sizzled in spots down his arm and he glanced down to see scorch marks in his sleeve