Page 17 of Ironhold, Trial Two

“I can handle it,” I insist.

“I just want you to be careful, and not get caught up in all the stuff around the colosseum,” Rowan says. “To not get distracted by people talking about politics and intrigue, or developing your talents more than you need to survive. The point is to get through five seasons. That’s it. Five seasons on the sands, and then we can leave. Think about what you’ll do then. Whatwe’lldo then.”

He talks as if he assumes that whatever we do, we’ll do it together.

“I could go home with you. We could go anywhere in the world.”

That's true, but I also have other options if I succeed.

“Or I could stay in Aetheria,” I suggest. “There are so many things happening here; there are conflicts brewing in the city and the empire. Maybe I could make a difference.”

Rowan crushes me to him. “The empire chews people up and spits them out. You need to focus on yourself and on me, on the here and now. We'll get through this together, and then… I’ll free my sisters, and we’ll get as far away from here as we can.”

He makes it sound as though that's the only dream worth following. The problem is that it's his dream, not mine. Rowan is so focused on his freedom that he can't see the bigger picture. There is more happening in Aetheria than I thought when I was brought here. Things are changing and there's a good chance that we're all going to be a part of that change.

We must be ready for it when it comes.

Chapter Nine

I keep training, knowing that every moment of practice is precious. That any skill I learn could make the difference between life and death in the Colosseum this season. I spar with my friends, I undertake the endless grueling workouts set by Lord Darius. And in between it all, I travel down into the city to train with Lady Elara.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Alaric says, in the middle of one of our training sessions. He seems happy enough to work with me, perhaps because he knows I don't pose a threat to him, or maybe because he just wants to show off his particular genius for fighting.

I pause, because I must admit I'm exhausted. I've been working so hard that I don't seem to have the energy for anything else.

“People keep telling me that I need to be ready. That I have so much to learn.”

“And that's true,” Alaric replies. “For example, you have a glaring weaknesshere.”

He thrusts at me with a practice sword, darting around my attempts to defend, poking me in the side with the point.

“Alaric!”

“Protesting won't help you. Keeping your elbow closer, so that you can use the haft of your trident to defend, might.” He says it is if I'm a wayward pupil. Worse, he says it as if my efforts have started to bore him. Alaric has started to deign to train with me, but only for as long as I keep his interest.

“Let's take a break,” I suggest. “Today's the day the matchups go up for the coming season, right?”

That catches Alaric’s interest. “I hope I've been matched with someone worthy this time.”

He says that as if getting to fight him it is a boon to be bestowed. He still views the Colosseum as a place to gain fame and honor, rather than as a place of blood and death.

We hurry back to the main dining hall. A few eyes glance our way at the sight of us entering the room together. Rowan gives Alaric an unfriendly look. It has been clear almost from the start that he doesn't like Alaric much. Ravenna looks a little surprised, as if not expecting me to be there with Alaric, although her look is not hostile, but merely seems to be calculating the implications.

“Great,” I mutter to Alaric. “More fuel for the rumor mill.”

“I'm sure being seen with me will enhance your reputation, not diminish it,” Alaric says, with his usual grin. His arrogance really does seem to know no bounds. “Now, ignore all of that. We need to find out who I'm fighting. And who you're fighting, of course.”

I suppose it's nice he's remembered that I'm fighting as well as him.

We both head over to the spot where a large board stands, matchups chalked on it. All of the others are gathered around. Rowan is there, checking his name. He has four bouts this season. I hope that will not be too many. He was injured last time. Worse, there seems to be another blindfold match up there on the board. Exactly the kind of bout he was almost killed by. But if he feels afraid at the sight of that, he does not show it.

“Five!” Alaric calls out, sounding almost joyful that he has so many fights to come. Five is a lot, given that the holy days on which the games occur typically last no more than two or three days. But Alaric seems to relish the chance to show off more. In his mind, five fights just means five chances to demonstrate his skills.

For a minute or two it is hard to get to the board, because there are so many people crowded around it. Vex and a clump ofthe noble gladiators walks forward as if expecting the rest of us to part for them. The worst part is that we do because none of us needs conflict this close to the games. Any injury could slow us down enough to get us killed in the arena.

The board varies. Some of the gladiators have matches set up in brackets so that the winners will face one another. It is more common though for the later matches to be left blank, so that the organizers can fill them in once they know which gladiators have survived to be able to fight in them. I notice that with the noble gladiators their matches tend to be more defined, as if the organizers expect it is more likely that they will survive. Perhaps the assumption is that they will be shown mercy even if they lose, although my last bout with Vex shows that that is not always the case. The emperor himself commanded me to finish him. Vex is only still alive because I chose to walk away.

Many of the bouts have symbols next to them indicating particular nuances of the rules or conditions. Some have a double mark against them, indicating a pairs match. Others indicate the presence of beasts or special situations. Rowan’s blindfold match is one such, the scenario designed it to test his ability to feel his opponents’ movements through the earth.

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