Page 10 of Ironhold, Trial One

CHAPTER FIVE

“Welcome to Ironhold! I am Lord Commander Darius Bloodhawk.”

The man who says it looks to be in his forties, armored as if for battle, his dark hair greying slightly.

We stand in the middle of a huge, sandy enclosure. He stands above us, on a platform, looking down. I have the impression from him of strength, that he has as little give in him as the fortress in which he stands.

Only I see now that it is not a fortress in the traditional sense. Those are designed to keep people out. This is a prison, the walls ringed by guards, designed to keep us in.

“This place exists for one purpose: to train and house those who will fight for the entertainment of the masses in the colosseum of Aetheria,” Lord Darius explains. “Almost all of you have magic. We will see which of you have heart.Those of you who are judged worthy will fight there, maybe die there.”

If so, I’m not sure Iwantto be judged worthy. I have no wish to fight anyone, especially not for the simple entertainment of others. The idea of having to hurt someone… I was raised to be a healer.

"Those who are not worthy will be taken to the slave pits to see what price can be gotten for you," he continues. "Or you will be kept here to serve those whodofight.”

Thatmakes fear run through me. The thought of being dragged up onto some slaver’s block, sold to the highest bidder, is somehow even worse than being made to fight.

“The worthy ones will have a chance,” he says. “A chance to live. A chance at greatness. A chance, perhaps, to be free.”

He looks us over, his eyes seeming to fall on each of us in turn. “I once stood where you stand. I was once as you were,a prisoner, a slave, a mere hopeful. I survived. Aetheria holds games on its holy days, celebrating the strength and magic that make it great. Feeding the stones that are the source of all magic, honoring the gods.”

Games in which people fight, in which they die.

"Five seasons. That is what it takes. Five competitive seasons in the colosseum, and a gladiator earns his or her freedom. Their children will be noble born citizens of Aetheria.That is what you are aiming for here. Do not forget it. Let the flames of that need carry you forward. For now, though, you will be assessed. Strike their chains!”

Figures move down among us. They are heavily muscled and dangerous looking. I get the feeling that these are gladiators, moving among us as much to test how we react as to simply set us free.

They do that too, however. One of them, a large woman with a shaven head, unlocks my manacles. She gives me a contemptuous look.

“Too scrawny. You will be lucky if you lose a single bout. More likely, you're going back to the slave pits. Some noble will keep you in chains and take you to his bed until he tires of you.”

She moves on before I can reply. Naia is free of her chains now too, although we both still have collars around our necks, marking what we are. Soon, we are all free of our bonds.

This just means that the testing can begin.

“Run!” Darius commands. “Around the training area. Begin!”

We run, and when we do not run fast enough, the gladiators hit us with switches. There are few guards here. The others are on the outer walls, keeping us in, presumably with magic of their own to contain such dangerous figures.

My breath comes in ragged bursts. After so long walking, I'm not sure I have the stamina for this, but I force myself to keep going. The alternative seems far worse. A couple of peoplecollapse and stop. They are quickly dragged to the side. The sight of that is enough to spur me on.

After the running, we are made to do basic physical exercises, lifting stones above our heads and pulling ourselves up on bars. After that, we are made to run across beams and leap between posts while the gladiators laugh at our lack of skills. I get the feeling that skill isn't the point, though. At each stage, the ones who are dragged to the side are the ones who stop, who collapse, who give up. That is the way to fail, and I know what failing means.

I do not give up, and I don't allow Naia to, either. In one exercise, carrying baskets of rocks back and forth she looks as though she is ready to drop to her knees and surrender. I look over at her, shaking my head.

“If you stop, they will take you to the slave pits,” I say. “You won't even have the chance of freedom. You can do this, Naia.”

She groans, but she keeps going. We both do. At the end of our first day there, we are shown to rough barracks and given rougher clothing to replace our own. It is brief and clinging, as if not wanting to give an opponent anything to hold on to. I get a loincloth, skirt, halter top and sandals, all in the same dull brown. I feel far too exposed in it, especially when the eyes of some of the gladiators rove over me.

I get a small room, barely more than a cell, with a bed and a chest for my clothes. The same gladiator who taunted me earlier walks by.

“Still too scrawny, even if you did last the day. What are your powers? What magic do you have?”

“Does everyone here have magic?” I ask.

She laughs. “This is Aetheria. Magic runs through the air and the water. There are nulls, even here, but most people have at least a glimmer. And if someone as scrawny as you wants tosurvive here, you'd better have more than that. So what can you do, new meat?”

“I can… communicate with animals,” I say, slightly uncertain about admitting it.

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