Page 28 of Ironhold, Trial Three

“You're wrong,” Rowan shoots back. “There won’t be any mercy.”

“Not if you keep refusing to fight,” I say, but he shoves me with his shield, forcing me back so that he can go back to keeping the distance and circling.

I attack him furiously because it's the only way I can give the impression that we're having a real battle. Rowan deflects my attacks with his shield and with his sword, because if he doesn't he will be hurt by them. I'm not aiming for vital areas, but I'm at least trying to get a response from him.

If I hope that this will be enough to satisfy the crowd, I'm sorely mistaken.

"Kill him! Kill him!" they begin to chant, while others continue their chorus of boos. It's obvious they can tell the difference between two fighters who are actively trying to kill one another and two who are merely engaged in some kind of elaborate dance, with only one of them making any real effort to attack.

The emperor's voice rings out over the arena. “I will give you both one turn of the sand to bring this fight to a conclusion. If it is not finished by then, both of your lives will be forfeit!”

Fresh terror runs through me. Now we don't even have time in which to work out a way through this situation. I have no more time in which to persuade Rowan to work with me. He seems to be making a decision as well, standing back and thinking for a moment.

Then he attacks for the first time in this bout. His sword swings at me, and I barely block it in time. His shield batters me, pushing me back. Now we are exchanging blows, my spear slicing around so that he must jump over it, my weighted chain slamming against his shield.

Rowan attacks, hitting me with his shield, forcing me to defend against his sword. I must give ground, stepping across the crumbling stone surfaces of the fake temple. The crowd are cheering more now, as if realizing that the action is finallyhitting up. Rowan pushes me this way and that, using his shield to direct me, his greater strength meaning that I must go with the movements because I have no chance of holding my ground without leaving an opening for his sword. We fight, and Rowan is the one in control of where the fight takes place. Arrows flash past us, triggered as a part of some trap. Stones crumble on the edge of a walkway as Rowan forces me back along it. We are heading for a stone platform that looks unstable, the edges of it already crumbling. If Rowan forces me onto that and it gives way, the way it is designed to, I will fall and be crushed by the weight of rocks following me.

“Rowan, wait,” I say.

“I'm sorry, Lyra. I have no choice.”

He lunges at me, sword raised, shield in front of him to prevent my spear from finding a home in his torso. Not that I can bring myself to thrust it home anyway. Rowan charges in…

… and then, at the last moment, he spins the two of us around and pushes away from me, making it look as though I've shoved him. He stumbles back onto the platform. He stands there for a moment, and I know that if he tried, he could stabilize it long enough with his powers to leap clear. Instead, he stands there, sword raised.

The platform gives way. Rowan falls with a cry, disappearing in a shower of stone and dust. More stone falls from above, rocks tumbling down onto his falling form. The noise of it is awful, and when it's settled, Rowan is nowhere to be seen. He is buried by a pile of rocks so large that no one could survive such a thing.

There is silence for several seconds, then the crowd erupts in cheers. Tears fall down my cheeks, even as I lift my spear in automatic acknowledgement. How could Rowan do this? How could he give his life for me like this? My heart aches with the agony of what has just happened. I feel numb, the outsideworld barely touching me at all. When the announcer speaks, the words seem to come from a distance.

“Citizens of Aetheria, I give you your victor, Lyra!”

Chapter Nineteen

My victory tastes like ashes in my mouth. Rowan is dead. I cannot see his body, but he is buried under so much rock that no one could have survived it. Even the fall was far enough that it might have proved deadly. A part of me hopes that it did, because at least that would have been quick.

Anguish balls up in me like a fist clenched around my heart. I reach inside for power, pain making me want to lash out, but the dampener around my wrist prevents me from doing anything.

I cannot breathe. I cannot think. I can barely see through the tears that cloud my eyes. I have already saluted the crowd, but I stand there, spear raised, for so long that it feels that someone must come and make me leave. And if they do maybe I will strike at them with that spear, because the guards and the trainers and the rest are all part of the system that has brought about Rowan's death. If I hated all of this before I loathe it now.

Somehow, I bring myself to stagger down from the temple ruins that they have crafted in mockery of the actual structures of the gods. I head for the iron gates, and they open for me to let me back into the depths beneath the arena. Alaric is there waiting for me, and for once, he does not play the part of the aloof and arrogant noble in public. He simply takes me by the arm, leading me back inside.

“I know it hurts, Lyra, having to kill a friend,” he says.

“But I didn't kill him,” I say. “Rowan did that deliberately. He could have shoved me onto the deadfall. I could have been the one buried under all that rock. Ishouldhave been.”

Alaric grabs me by the shoulders then, holding me there and giving me a serious look. "Do not talk like that. Don't even think like that. The whole point of this was that one of you had todie so the other could survive. If it's you who has survived… I'm grateful for that. You should be, too."

I know what he's saying, but I don't feel glad to be alive right now. Instead, I just feel guilty that Rowan has died so that I might live.

“He chose this,” Alaric says. “You said it yourself, he pushed himself into position for this to happen. Rowan allowed himself to be killed so that you can live.”

That doesn't make me feel any better. If anything, it makes me feel worse, because if it had been someone other than Rowan, they would not have done this. Only the fact that he cared enough about me led him to do this, and that is a fresh pain because it proves just how much he felt for me, even if he pulled back from me after he found out the extent of my powers.

“Lyra, listen to me,” Alaric says. His hands touch my face, so gentle and so sure. “You can grieve. You can do what you need to do but only for today. Tomorrow you will have to fight again, and if you're so weighed down with grief that you can't do anything, then Rowan’s sacrifice will be for nothing.”

"How can you be so cold about this?" I demand. "I know you hated him, but you can't just tell me not to feel anything!"

“It's not about what you feel,” Alaric insists. “It's about survival. Rowan has given you a chance. You owe it to him to take it, and you owe it to me to live through these trials. Everything you're feeling now, I will feel ten times worse if you do not make it. Please, Lyra.”

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