‘You speak boldly, but soon you will start to scream, haizda mage. I will bite off your arms and legs, and lick the stumps to stop the flow of blood. Then I will give you a slow, painful death so that all can delight in your screams. Finally I will slice the soft flesh of your purrai very slowly, savouring each morsel.’
Hearing those words, all three captives became even more hysterical, straining against their ties in vain, but I did not reply. We had talked enough. Action would speak much louder than words.
Then came the second trumpet blast. In the following silence I heard the Haggenbrood begin to move. As the creature dragged itself out of the pit, I registered a razor-beak and two murderously sharp-clawed hands. Within seconds, the first of the selves had emerged and was regarding me with hostile, hungry eyes.
I had never been so close to the unconfined Haggenbrood before, and it momentarily filled me with dismay. It was even more formidable than I had imagined. Despite the fact that each part of it had only four appendages and a long serpentine neck, they resembled nothing more than insects. Glistening as if smeared with some gelatinous substance, the sides and arms were covered in plates of bone like the ribbed armour worn in battle by Kobalos High Mages. It gave off a new stench now. I smelled its hunger and eagerness for battle.
I took a deep breath, straightened my back and gathered my courage. I was a haizda mage, an undefeated warrior. I would prevail.
Within moments its three selves were crouched on all fours, ready to spring, but they could not do so until the blast of the third trumpet was heard.
I prepared myself to cut the bonds of the human witch and thrust the blade into her hands as she had asked. I was reaching for it, but suddenly, at the last moment, I changed my mind and left it in my pocket – with good reason too.
OUT OF THE previous trial encounters that I had studied, on only two occasions had the Haggenbrood concentrated its efforts on its opponent, waiting to attack and devour the sacrificial purrai until after he was dead.
In both cases the opponent had somehow managed to inflict the first wound on the Haggenbrood. In neither case had the trial lasted long, but the move had succeeded in changing the pattern of conflict. If I could get it to concentrate solely on me, then the intervention of the witch would be an even more effective surprise.
As the sound of the third trumpet echoed from the walls of the auditorium, the twelve limbs of the Haggenbrood extended, and the three selves each came up onto two legs, growling with battle-fury. Then it attacked. I was the target, not the purrai.
But a fraction of a second later I began to move too – directly towards it. In my left hand I held Old Rowler’s sabre; in my right my favourite dagger.
Five strides, each faster than its predecessor, brought me to the edge of the pit and within cutting range of my multi-selved opponent. The element of surprise was now mine. It had not expected me to be so bold. Teeth snapped towards me. Hot foul breath was in my face. Talons missed my face by the thickness of a rat’s whisker.
Then it was my turn.
I attempted two blows, one fractionally after the other. The scything cut with my sabre missed because of the amazingly rapid reaction of the self I’d targeted; my favourite dagger didn’t.
Its tip penetrated an eye. The crowd roared. Three throats gave a simultaneous delicious scream. Each self felt the pain. That was good to know.
Now the Haggenbrood only had five eyes left.
Then I leaped across the pit, landing safely on the other side. My tail was parallel with my back and ready. I needed it for balance.
The selves scuttled towards me, jaws open wide, faces twisted in fury. But they didn’t leap over the pit. They kept to the edges – two on my left, one on my right. I waited until the very last moment, then did a back-flip, returning to the opposite side. Quickly I ran towards the post where the witch in the shape of Nessa was secured, and cut her bonds.
As I handed her the blade, a huge gasp went up from the crowd. This had never been done before, but there was no mention of it in the rules. It was perfectly legal.
We stood side by side facing the pit. Once again the three selves of the Haggenbrood circled it slowly, five eyes signalling their fierce intent.
Sometimes in battle we act instinctively. The thrust of a blade, the avoidance of a spear is automatic and faster than thought. One enters a trance-like condition in which the body moves of its own volition, far faster than any action can be planned.
So it was now. And there was something else: when I fought alongside the witch, it was as if we shared one consciousness. Whether she employed some human magic to achieve that, or whether, in the heat of battle, we somehow became transcendent, elevated to a fighting ferocity where our two bodies were controlled by one joint mind, I didn’t know. But it seemed to me that the way we two fought was similar to the Haggenbrood’s coordinated selves.
My concentration was total and I no longer heard the baying of the excited crowd. I fought with Grimalkin in a pocket of silence.
One touch was enough to cause kirrhos, the tawny death, but as we attacked, taking the battle to the Haggenbrood, its claws missed my face by inches. I felt its collective corrosive breath singe the skin of my face, but our blades flashed and the creature screamed. We cut it and it bled.
I was aware of Grimalkin’s cuts and thrusts as if they were my own; no doubt she too felt my strikes at the enemy that confronted us. It was as if I were floating just above my body, watching us do battle below. I remember briefly wondering how the fight appeared to the spectators on their tiers of seats. Surely they would not see it as I did?
For how could the purra, Nessa, fight with such consummate ferocity and skill? Somehow the witch must be cloaking that from their gaze, making it seem as if the brunt of the battle was all mine. In truth, it was hard for me to judge which of us made the greater contribution. As I said, we were like one. My arms were her arms; her blades were my blades. It was a pleasure to share combat with such a warrior.
Within moments two of the Haggenbrood’s selves had been cut to pieces, their body parts scattered across the arena floor. Victory was almost ours, but then, with victory almost in sight, there was a small reversal of fortune.
The last of the enemy selves broke away from us and scuttled straight towards Susan, the elder of the two bound sisters. This took me completely by surprise: the creature had hitherto shown no interest in the captives, who had their eyes shut in terror. The creature was defeated, and could not have achieved anything by such an act unless it could slay both purrai – but it would not have time for that. Perhaps it was sheer spitefulness.