Page 41 of Trial By Fire

Malekith cupped Aric’s face in his hands, trailing along Aric’s jaw with a tenderness that belied his fearsome appearance. “We will break these bindings for good,” he promised. “I swear it.”

Aric managed a weak smile, drawing strength from Malekith’s words. “I know we will.”

Thirteen

The Wrathforge’s pit arena loomed like a jagged mountain on the horizon, but the ground shivered from its pulsing red wards long before they reached the gates. Demons surged toward the arena from every direction in the capital, forming a chaotic river that flowed into the open maw of the structure. Aric strained to catch a glimpse of the arena floor, but it was lost in the sea of bodies roiling around them.

“Stay close,” Malekith said, his breath hot against Aric’s ear. “This is only the beginning.”

A low growl of warning built in Aric’s throat, but he forced it down. He’d faced down demon assassins, power-mad mages, and a host of other terrors in his time, but the crowd still made his skin prickle with unease. He felt the eyes of a thousand strangers on them, and while most of the demons seemed too preoccupied with the spectacle ahead to pay them any mind, Aric knew that could change in an instant.

Malekith’s hand settled on the small of Aric’s back, a warm anchor in the cold tide of the crowd. Aric tried to focus on that touch, on the steady presence at his side, and not on the doubts that nipped at his heels. He was a stranger in a strange land, anddespite everything that had passed between him and Malekith, he still didn’t know where he truly stood.

The air sizzled with power as they passed beneath the arena’s wards, a tangible force that made the hair on Aric’s arms stand on end. It was a heady, intoxicating scent, laced with promises of secrets and knowledge waiting to be unveiled. Aric inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the thud of his heart in his ears.

The closer they drew to the arena’s entrance, the more the air hummed with dark magic, like the steady pulse of a distant war drum. It was a living, breathing thing, coiling around them and seeping into their skin. Aric’s heart raced as he tried to steady his breathing, his senses hyperaware. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of a yawning chasm, and with each step, the void threatened to pull him in.

He risked a glance at Malekith, but the demon prince’s face was a mask of calm. Only the tightness in his jaw gave him away, a rare sign of the tension that coiled just beneath his controlled exterior. Aric’s fingers itched to reach for his hand, to offer some kind of reassurance, but he kept his arms firmly at his sides. Malekith had brought him here for a reason, and Aric would see it through, no matter what.

They reached the gates, twin slabs of obsidian that glowed with eldritch runes, and the crowd around them fell silent. The guards on either side of the gates loomed over Aric, their scaled faces carved into expressions of pure malice. With a hiss of approval from Malekith, they pushed the gates open, and the crowd surged forward into the arena.

The interior of the Wrathforge was a vast hollow chamber, carved from the living rock of the mountain itself. Molten streams of lava flowed down the walls, casting a hellish red glow across the seething crowds that packed the space. Malekith led the way, his posture ramrod straight and his movements precise, a living shadow parting the writhing mass of demons. Aric didhis best to mimic his stride, but he couldn’t shake the sense of unease that coiled in the pit of his stomach.

Finally, they reached a dais at the far end of the chamber, and a group of lower-ranking demons scurried forward, their heads bowing low. Malekith said something to them in the harsh, guttural language of the demons, and the smaller creatures chattered in response. Then they turned and hurried deeper into the mountain, leaving Malekith and Aric alone.

“What was that all about?” Aric asked, keeping his voice low.

Malekith’s lips curved in a sly smile. “Merely making the necessary arrangements for your trials. If you’ll come with me.”

He held out a hand, and Aric took it, the warmth of Malekith’s palm sending a jolt of heat through him. Malekith led him up a narrow staircase that wound around the side of the dais, giving them a vantage point over the roiling crowds below. Aric’s breath caught at the sight, the sheer scale of the arena unlike anything he’d ever seen.

“This is where the trials will take place?” he asked, his voice hushed.

Malekith nodded. “Each one is a test of a different aspect of your being. Mind, magic, loyalty. Succeed, and you will prove yourself worthy in the eyes of the demon court.”

“And if I fail?” Aric asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

Malekith’s grip tightened on his hand. “You won’t.”

The smaller demons reappeared, bearing an ornate casket carved with twisting runes. Malekith nodded to them, and they scurried forward to present it to him. Malekith opened the casket with a soft click of metal on metal, revealing a set of ancient-looking tools, a vial of inky black liquid, and a bundle of silken cords.

“Take him to the preparation chamber,” Malekith said, his voice cold and imperious. “And begin.”

Flames danced in the eyes of the smaller demons as they bowed low, and Aric felt a shiver race down his spine. They hustled Aric away, leading him to a small antechamber off to the side. The space was dimly lit, the air heavy with incense that stung at Aric’s eyes. A stone altar dominated the room, its surface etched with a tangle of arcane symbols, while the walls were lined with an array of wicked-looking instruments.

The attending demons fidgeted as they approached. “You are required to wear the ceremonial garb for the trial,” one of them said. He sounded like he was reading the line for the hundredth time, and must have been very tired of it by now. “We are forbidden to brand or bind you, per the Sovereign’s command.” The two lesser demons flanked Aric, their claws twitching, and they were utterly unable to hide their distaste at the situation.

Aric quirked a brow at the other demons, then turned away to hide a smile. “I think I can manage that.”

The other demons grumbled to themselves as they shuffled aside to give Aric some semblance of privacy. Aric peeled off his tunic and trousers and pulled on the simple dark robes, their gauzy fabric surprisingly soft against his skin. As he tied the sash at his waist, his hands shook, and he struggled to center himself.

Aric squared his shoulders and turned back to face the demons, doing his best to ignore the way they eyed him like a juicy slab of meat. “I’m ready.”

The smaller demons exchanged a look, then one of them picked up the vial of black ink and stepped forward. With a few deft strokes, he painted a series of sigils on Aric’s bare chest, the cool substance sending a shiver through him. The other demon unraveled the bundle of cords and began to braid them together, his claws clicking against the beads. Once the vial was empty and the braid complete, they stepped back and bowed.

“The ceremony is concluded. You are prepared for the first trial.”

Aric turned back to Malekith, forcing a confidence he didn’t feel. “Then let’s get on with it.”

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