Page 36 of Ironhold, Trial One

The thoughts do not come as words, but the feelings are there. The birds see more than I do and they are prompting me, showing me when I must slip to the side and when I must duck. These creatures have seen death again and again. They have seen more bouts in this arena than I can even imagine. They might not understand all human ways, but between the hundreds of them, they know when I must step back to allowBraxus’s swing to pass by, know when I must raise my trident to avoid a shove by his shield.

It is as if I can see everything as if I almost know what's going to happen. Sharp eyes pick out every twitch of Braxus’s muscles, every shift of his weight as he decides which way to go.

Dodge!

I avoid another of his attacks. I can see that Braxus is moving slower now, his heavy armor and weapon taking an effort to wield beyond the first rush of the fight. He is trying harder, too, no longer just playing with me. Every stroke of the sword aims to maim or kill me. But I see it coming, see more of the fight than he could ever manage. I am not just caught up in the moment, with the blade inches from my face. I'm seeing it as a hundred or more different observers.

It is as if I am just part of the flow of it all, one with the flock, moving in response to their thoughts as much as my own. I'm aware that I am the one bleeding on the sand but I am also so many other beings, so many other perspectives. It is easiest to just flow down into it all, losing myself and letting my body react automatically to the information I'm getting from the carrion birds.

Net!

I react to the thought, sweeping my net around, and it tangles with Braxus’s sword, pulling his arm wide.

Thrust!

My body moves even before I can think about it. I thrust forward with my trident, and now it spears into Braxus’s body. In an instant, I am back in my own skin, staring across at Braxus, as he stands there transfixed by my weapon. His sword clatters to the ground. Blood bubbles from his mouth as he looks at me wide-eyed, clearly not able to believe what has just happened to him.

I let go of the trident, and he topples back, blood flowing from his chest.

He dies there on the sands, and I am the one who has killed him. The full horror of that thought floods through me. He was going to kill me, was going to enjoy killing me, but that doesn't make it better. It doesn't take away from the fact that I have just killed a man.

The fact that I can feel the need of the carrion birds only makes it worse. I can feel their hunger for his flesh, feel their satisfaction that it has come to this. This is what they wanted, what they pushed me to do. Around me, the crowd is cheering. As far as they’re concerned, I have won with no tricks, and I have given them the blood they crave.

“Your victor, Lyra!”

It is all I can do to collect my trident from the body of the fallen man, lifting it to the crowd so that it shines in the sunlight. The sight of the blood on it makes me feel sick.

“Lyra! Lyra! Lyra!”

They cheer for me as readily as they cheered for Braxus. No doubt, they will scream out the name of anyone who manages to cut me down as well. The thought of that only makes the moment feel worse.

They want me to feel joy, to rejoice in the adulation, but all I can feel is the wrongness of what I have just done, the cruelty of cutting someone down like that. And it seems I have the answer to a question I wasn’t sure of. It seems I will kill to ensure my own survival.

As soon as I am able, I flee from the arena sands, back into the depths of the colosseum.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The worst part of what comes next is the people congratulating me for killing.

“That was incredible! I’m glad I bet on you this time!” Lord Marus says, grabbing me by the arms and spinning me around. It occurs to me that I have the training to throw him down on the floor of the grand chamber where I have been required to go be seen by the noblesas soon as the healers have stitched my wounds.

But if I do that, I know I will be punished. Maybe I will even be killed for it. So I don’t, waiting for him to pull back instead.

I'm in the same grand chamber as before, where the nobles gather to celebrate the successful gladiators, to be seen with them, to build connections with them for one night finally complete their time in the colosseum. As before, it is a place of fine food and decadence, of servants standing respectfully by, waiting for commands, and of nobles who lounge on elegant couches, occasionally heading back out to their boxes so that they can watch more of the violence.

Zara is already there, looking bored as she turns down some proposition from a nobleman. I head over to her as soon as she is free, because that gives me at least some protection from being talked to by the nobles around me.

“Lyra, you survived!” she says, throwing her arms around me.

She sounds slightly surprised.

“You didn't think I would?” I ask.

She hesitates. “It's just… this whole thing you have about not hurting people. It's hard to believe that you can win bouts without doing that. And I saw who you were up against. Braxus is tough.”

“He's dead,” I say, my voice flat. “I killed him.”

Zara’s eyes widen slightly at the news, obviously taking in the implications. “It’s your first time killing someone?”

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