Page 12 of Ironhold, Trial One

“All right,” she says. “This is over. For now.”

He lets her go.

“Thank you for that,” I say.

“It doesn't matter how tough the situation is,” he says. “There always seems to be someone determined to make it worse for people. I'm Rowan.”

“Lyra,” I reply, “and this is Naia. You’re from the north? Did they take you from your village, too?”

Rowan looks bitter. “They bought me from my… former owner.”

“You were a slave before this?” I ask.

He nods. “My sisters and I were all taken. When my mistress became angry with me, she lashed out. This was the result.”

He touches the scar on his face.

“She decided after that I was only fit for the arena.”

It’s a painful story. There are so many of those in a place like this.

“Gyra is right about one thing,” Rowan says. “You’re holding the sword wrong. Let me show you.”

His hand wraps around mine, adjusting my grip. That brief moment of contact catches me by surprise, making me look up into his eyes.

“Is everyone here conscripted or enslaved?” I ask him.

Rowan shakes his head. "There are some free gladiators. Some of the nobles in Aetheria see it as a duty or a chance to show off their magic. They think that they will get better positions and marriages if they do well."

Magic seems to be at the heart of the games. Naia and I were taken because of our magic, however unsuited to combat.

“Do you have magic?” I ask Rowan.

He nods.

“What can you do?” Naia asks. It seems to be the key question around here. Size and strength matter, but magical abilities might be enough to make up for that. Although, in Rowan’s case, he already has more than enough in the way of size and strength. It is hard not to stare at the muscles of his back and shoulders, so much stronger than mine.

“I have some connection to the earth,” he explains. “Not much, I’m only a little more than a glimmer, really, but apparently more than enough for Ironhold to want me. I heard Gyra call you a healer, Naia. What about you, Lyra?”

“I can communicate with animals,” I say. Rowan looks worried.

“Beast speech? I had assumed that if they brought you here, it would be because you had some dangerous magical ability that would let you fight.”

It echoes the things Gyra said far too closely.

“You don’t think I can survive here, do you?”

"I… hope you will," Rowan says. "But the colosseum is brutal. Before I was sold to Ironhold, I was taken there to stand beside my old mistress and serve her. The fights there… the crowds bay for blood, and they get it. It is a place of death and cruelty.”

That is the part of this that I find the hardest to deal with: that I will be forced to fight against other human beings, other people who have been given no choice in the situation either. I'm not sure I can do that. I have spent my life learning the basics of healing people with powders and potions. Now, this place wants me to take lives.

“I'm not sure if I can be cruel or deadly,” I say.

Rowan gives me a sympathetic look, as if he understands the dilemma. “I hope that you are able to learn Lyra. Because the alternative… I would not want to see you dead.”

Are those my only choices? To become cruel or to die? I'm not sure that I like either option.

“And this is what they use for entertainment in the capital?” I say.

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