The blackdeath feasted once more. When it was done with Kroy, it rose again to an erect posture and surveyed the playing neld. Here it was, back at the north end of the diamond. The five remaining Quintaglios had made their way down to the southern vertex. The beast seemed to be thinking that it was a long distance to that end, and that Quintaglios really were too puny to pursue. It turned its back, as if to go, but then stopped, its massive head swinging left and right. Now that it had had something to eat, it seemed to be realizing for the first time that it was trapped again, that there was no way out of this arena.
The beast threw back its ebony head and let out a massive, rumbling roar. It turned toward the spectator stands, two angled banks of compartments high up, out of reach. It could surely see the Quintaglios, each in its compartment, almost like a gift box of candy raloodoos. Hundreds of morsels, each good for a few bites, but maddeningly inaccessible. It roared again, sweeping its head in an arc as it did so, as if to make sure that each and every spectator understood that it was personally an object of the blackdeath’s anger.
But then it caught sight again of the five remaining contestants, milling around at the far end. They, at least, could feel its wrath directly. It began to march toward them.
The beast took the shortest course, its massive legs pounding straight along the line of orange powder that marked the major axis of the stadium. The powder rose in little clouds with each divot kicked up by its footfalls.
As it closed the distance, Cadool continued to speak to Afsan, trying to make the spectacle as clear as possible. “Nesster, Spenress, Wendest, Rodlox, and Dybo are left,” he said. “It’s hard to say which one the blackdeath is going to go for next. I think it’s Nesster—yes. Nesster, from Mar’toolar. His belt is pink. God, that thing can move! Nesster is running now, as fast as he can, I’m sure, but he’s no match—he’s tripped! He’s down, muzzle-first in the grass. The blackdeath is almost upon him, jaws gaping. The blackdeath’s head is coming in. Nesster is scrambling to get to his feet. The blackdeath’s got him—no, wait! It chomped down on Nesster’s tail, just above the rump. The tail sheared clean off. Nesster is scrambling again. He’s on his feet, but his balance is all off without his tail. He’s leaning too far forward in his run; he should be more vertical. The blackdeath’s throat is distending; it’s swallowing the tail whole. It’s lunging after Nesster again. Roots! I knew that was going to happen. Nesster has tumbled over onto his face again. The blackdeath—the blackdeath’s got him. Jaws digging into Nesster’s shoulders, a giant foot pinning his lower back, and—and—Afsan, it’s arched Nesster’s back, yanking up with its jaws. I’ve never seen a back bent that far backward. It’s ripping, God—the thing’s torn Nesster clean in two. And there goes the upper half—head and shoulders—right into the mouth.”
Silence for a moment, throughout the stadium. Afsan could hear the wet sounds of flesh being torn. Finally he said: “That leaves four. Dybo’s halfway there.”
“Maybe,” said Cadool. “Maybe not. The blackdeath isn’t spending much time on Nesster’s remains. It’s looking for another target, and I’m afraid—yes, it’s Dybo. The beast is charging toward Dybo.” Cadool shouted, despite himself. “Come on, Dybo! Run!”
“He won’t run,” said Afsan.
“But he is,” said Cadool. “He’s running for his life. No, wait. He’s—he’s stopped, Afsan. He’s just standing there, absolutely motionless, about twenty paces from the blackdeath.”
Afsan made a soft hissing sound that might have been the word for “good.”
Dybo froze completely, even his breath held. The blackdeath stopped charging and swung its giant head left and right, as if momentarily lost.
“I don’t understand,” said Cadool.
“You were once an animal handler,” Afsan. “I think you do.”
“I don’t see—I do see! But it does not! The blackdeath can’t see him unless he’s moving! Its tiny brain doesn’t register stationary objects.”
“Exactly.”
“But how does Dybo know this?”
“He knows everything there is to know about blackdeaths now. I made him study every source, every scientific paper, every popular account. I made him spend days just watching the blackdeath in its pen.”
“But he can’t stand still forever. And even if he does, the blackdeath can smell him, and hear him—”
“But something else will attract its attention—”
“You’re right! There goes Wendest now, trying to make it back to the north end. The fool! The blackdeath has seen her and is leaving Dybo behind. It’s on her tail!”
Wendest was short work for the blackdeath. It tore her limbs off, ripped the meat from them, and disemboweled the torso. There were now five bloody corpses spotted around the great diamond field, and three contenders left—Spenress, Rodlox, and Dybo.
Rodlox was targeted next: Rodlox, the governor of isolated Edz’toolar, the one whose challenge of Dybo had caused all this. His belt was brown, the color of his province, the color of barren soil like that which covered much of his land. The blackdeath barreled toward him. Rodlox was strong, strongest of all the contestants. He did not run away from the blackdeath. He preferred to meet it on his own terms. Instead, his muscular legs propelled him toward the creature. The ground shook as the two of them ran together, closer, closer still, a collision imminent…
Suddenly Rodlox feinted to the right, running now in a circle, around and around the blackdeath. The great carnivore couldn’t turn with the facility Rodlox could, and although it tried to bring its jaws to bear on him several times, Rodlox managed to keep out of its reach, running and running and running in circles, around and around, dizzyingly…
The blackdeath continued to circle, too stupid to know that if it simply stopped for a moment, Rodlox would come rushing around into its reach.
The strategy was brilliant—disorient the monster. And what a definitive win it would be! Not just surviving the culling of the blackdeath, but actually defeating the creature. Rodlox would secure his position firmly.
The blackdeath was weaving now, tottering back and forth as it rotated, dizziness taking hold. Rodlox’s strength and stamina were incredible, to keep up the game for so long. At last the great dark beast staggered and dropped to its knees. Rodlox seized the moment and launched himself onto the creature’s back, his toeclaws making red scratches in the ebony hide as he scrambled higher and higher, the bony ridges down the monster’s spine like tiny stairs in profile.
The blackdeath yelled. Rodlox positioned himself firmly between the beast’s shoulders and opened his mouth wide, preparing to chomp into its neck—
But then the blackdeath rose to its feet, higher and higher, Rodlox himself now temporarily disoriented—
And then it did something that no one had ever seen before—
It tipped forward, way, way forward, the upper tip of its muzzle pressing against the ground, then it pushed with its hind legs, its spine curving, and it rolled forward, somersaulting, head over heels, its shoulders taking the brunt of the roll, Rodlox expiring with a loud wet splat between the blackdeath’s shoulder blades and the hard ground of the playing field. The blackdeath completed the revolution, the stiff tail flexing around, and rose back to its feet, shrugging its giant shoulders, as if to dislodge Rodlox’s remains. But the bulk of them were stuck there, a flattened bloody mess. After a couple more futile shrugs, the blackdeath seemed to resign itself to carrying around the residue. Perhaps it would let wingfingers pick at its back later, cleaning away what was left of Rodlox.