Page 11 of Ironhold, Trial Four

“Lyra, I-”

“But that's why you've been holding back from me, isn't it? In case we have to fight one another. You've been preparing yourself so you'll be able to do what'snecessary.”

He looks as though he might answer, but I don't want to hear his answer. There is no answer he can give that will be good enough. His hesitation has been eloquent enough. Maybe he has cared for me in his way but mostly I have beensimply someone to spend some time with, a pleasant physical distraction in his bed.

“Rowan almost killed himself to keep from having to hurt me,” I say as I turnto leave. “But you can't even say that you wouldn't cut my throat.”

I don'tgive him any time to reply but simply stalk away from the beast pensquicker than he can catch up. Not that he seems to be following.

I head up through the fortress, hoping thatwalking enough will assuage some of the hurt I feel. It doesn't. I know I shouldn't be surprised thatanother gladiator hasn’t ruled out fighting me, killing me, when we don't get any choice about who we fight, but I wanted to believe that I meant more to Alaric than that. Does his precious glory mean so much to him?

Of course it does. Alaric lives for glory. I was a fool to believe that he could ever care about me to the same degree.

I find myself drifting back towards the great dining hall, with its wooden benches and the constant presence of the other gladiators. At the moment, they are clustered at one end, where a giant chalkboard is located. The marks up on itshow exactly what Alaric was talking about: the bouts for the next seasonhave been declared. The holy days are almost upon us, and the games will begin soon.

I'm almost too hurt by it all to care who I'm fighting, but I drift forward anyway, waiting until there is enough space for me to find my name up there.

It seems I will have four bouts this season, rather than the three that I've been used to, or the five of the Champions Trial. Four suggests that the organizersfeel that the crowd wants to see more of me, and suggests they have enough faith in meto believe that I will survive to the last bout.

There is a mixture of different bouts up there although the details haven't been filled in. There is a doubles bout, and something with three sets of two. But only the first has been put in place fully, giving me the name of the gladiator I will fight on the first morning. He's already staring over at me, his gaze unreadable.

I am to fight the newcomer, Callus, and his expression suggests that he is looking forward to it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The procession for the first day of the games is normally a joyous occasion. It is a moment when the citizens of the city see us for the first timesince the last games, all of us gladiators in our shining armor, holding our weapons. It is our first chance to be out of our fortress prison since the last games. In the case of some of the newer gladiators, it is the first chance for them and the citizenry to see one another at all. It is a moment when the great beasts are being brought down to the arenaas a part of the procession, lending the whole thing a circus feel.

It is a moment when I see the ways in which the other gladiatorsinteract with the crowds. Alaric always seeks to win them over, smiling and waving, accepting a crown of flowersfrom a small child, bowing with mock seriousness to an old woman. Golden haired Vex, with his thin network of scarswhere my shadow cat wounded him in a previous fight, always drinks in the cheering and the applause as if it is intended for him alone. Rowan strides forward, looking neither left nor right, all but ignoring this side of the games as if not wanting to have to perform for the pleasure of the crowd.

Zaraa and Cesca are marching side by side, waving to the crowd. There are more than a few catcalls towards them. Since Ravenna’s death, a certain portion of the crowd seems to be looking for new gladiators to focus its amorous attentions on. Zara seems to be making sure that Cesca isn't over awed by at all, becausethis is her first time taking part in real games. Cesca looks around as if drinking in every scrap of it.

That thought makes me look around for Callus, but he is movingwith confidence. His chest is bare, but he wears shoulder guards and vambraces. He carries a spear and a net, a combination close to my own pairing of spear and weightedchain. He looks my way, seeming to sense that I'mstaring at him. Not that he can sense such things. After all, he is a null, one of those who lacks magical power to augment whatever physical skills he has.

I briefly try to imagine what it will be like to fight him, try to work out the way our bout will go. I have fought nulls in the past, and they are still dangerous, even if they have no magic. The ones chosen for the colosseum tend to be big, skilled and aggressive. My best hope will be to use my own magic against him, finding a way to use the animals of the arena to gain an edge.

Most of my thoughts are not on him though. Nor are they on the crowds as we wind our way down into the city, through the slums on the outskirts, then through the walls into the main part of Aetheria. I wave to acknowledgesome of the cheersand those calling my name, but my heart isn't in it the way it might have been on another occasion. It isn't just that I know they would shout just as loud for anyone who cut me down in the colosseum; I'm also thinking hard about my home and what is happening to it. I'm thinking about how little I can do to change that from here, but I'm also thinking about the one thing I might be able to do.

We head through the city, and here it's possible to see both the grandeur ofAetheria and the power of its magic. Statues line the streets, often of mythical figures but sometimes of gladiators. Houses are decorated with illusions. Several places sportmoving pictures of the gladiatorsinvolved in the last games, the Champions Trials. I see an image of myself in the moment when I slew Ravenna, and wince, remembering the pain ofkilling someone deliberately, intentionally, for the first time.

The colosseum looms ahead of us, rising from the heart of the city as if it is the only place that matters within it. It is festooned with flags and banners, people pouring into it through its manyentrances. We are heading down a broad promenade, again lined with statues, heading for a main entrance. It takes our procession out onto the sands directly, and a wall of noisefrom the crowd hits us as we do so. There are people everywhere, leaning out from the stands as if they wish to get closer to us, some using minor sparks of magicto produce colorful flames or streams of smoke. The magic that flows out from the stones of the city is so common thatit is rarer to find someone without a tiny talent than someone with one.

I stand there for a moment, drinking it in. The nobles are up in their boxes. I see Lady Elara is there, looking down. So is Selene Ravenscroft, white haired in spite of only being in her thirties, and with a severe expression. The bookmakers have set up their stalls and already seemed to be doing a brisk trade, taking bets on the outcomes of the bouts, the line up, and almost every other aspect of the games.

The emperor is in his box, waiting for us to arrive. He stands as we do so, spreading his hands for silence. The crowd falls quiet.

“Gladiators,” he says. “Welcome to the colosseum. Here you will help the city celebrate its most important virtues, martial strength and magical power. Those of you who succeed will win glory, while those who die will honor the gods with their blood. I salute you!”

He raises his fist in salute and we return the gesture, before we set off for iron gates that lead beneath the arena. There are guards there waiting for me, which is a surprise.

“The emperor would like to wish you luck,” one says. “Come with us. Leave your weapons.”

I hand my weapons to a trainerbefore following the guardsup through the arena to the emperor's private box. Although it is not so private, since as I enter it the crowd roars its approval at seeing one of their favorite gladiators. I kneel as I know I amrequired to, the emperorgesturing for me to rise in what seems like a benevolent move, but which also ensures that I'm seen by the crowd.

“Hear how they love you, following your victoryin the Champions Trials?” he says softly. “I trust that you will not embarrass me by losing too soon?”

“I will try not to, my emperor,” I say.

“Good, you may go. No, wait.” A thoughtful, cruel look appears on his features. “It occurs to me that you should stay for the first entertainment. Perhaps you will find it instructive.”

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