Ironhold, Trial One (Ironhold #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY

This time, our procession down to the colosseum holds a grim note. People are still out in the streets cheering, but I do not wave back. I have seen too much of what they're cheering for.

Alaric, Vex, and a few of the others are still playing up to the crowds, but more of the gladiators are focused, all too aware of what might happen to them on the sands today. I am grateful when we reach the Colosseum, grateful when I can wait in the dark spaces beneath it. I seek out some of the animals there, kept overnight, ready to be used in the violence today. There was something comforting about being close to them, even though they are snapping and snarling, and I can feel the hunger among them.

“Haven't you fed them?” I ask Stefano, when I find him.

He shakes his head. “Lord Darius wants them hungry, ready to fight.”

Already, the games are already beginning. I can hear the sounds from the arena, the announcements, the clash of iron against iron, the screams. When I head to the gates to look through, I see Zara fighting a wiry foe, flinging one of her vials of water at him. It bursts, and the water seems to flow around his head in a bubble. I watch as he flails, then claws at it, then collapses, drowning in the middle of the sand thanks to her magic. Almost as soon as he does, the carrion birds swoop down. There are many more crows above today than yesterday, obviously drawn by the death.

Now I must prepare. I make sure I have all my all too revealing armor in place, and I collect my weapons. My net has been repaired by some of the attendants around the colosseum, and I have my dagger and trident once more. I test the weight of them, knowing that they are the only things standing between me and death.

Finally, the soldiers come for me, pushing me out into the arena beneath the hot sun.

“I give you Lyra!”

As I step out, the crowd cheers and boos in equal measure. They clearly haven't forgotten what happened yesterday. Business around the betting booths is brisk. Are more of them betting on my death?

“And her opponent, Braxus!”

The man who steps out onto the sands is big and heavily muscled A giant of a man who stands far taller than me and who looks as though he could pick me up one-handed. He has plates of armor over much of his chest and shoulders. He carries a large shield and a curved sword.

“Braxus! Braxus!” It's clear he's a crowd favorite, which means he's fought plenty of times before, even if I don't know him well. He's just a face I vaguely recognize from Ironhold. I can remember a little about him. I think he might be one of the nulls there, but he has succeeded in spite of that. He has a reputation for brutality and strength.

I stand opposite him, keeping my distance, trying to work out how to do this. I'm trying to work out if I can hurt somebody just so I can survive.

“Are you scared yet?” he calls to me. “You should be. I'm going to kill you slowly, and all your fancy tricks will do nothing to me.”

The bout begins, and he rushes in, clearly hoping to catch me off guard. I wheel away, swinging my net in his face to distract him as I gain ground. He bowls forward again, attacking with a series of blows that I barely avoid and block. His strength and aggression are phenomenal. I know that if I am caught in close to him even for a few moments, he will do enough damage that I cannot keep going.

I must dodge and look for an opportunity to use my net. That's how I’m meant to fight, avoiding attacks, trying to tangle my opponent, using my trident to keep the fight at a longer distance. But I don't have any advantages today, and without the help of the animals, I'm not sure I can win this fight.

As if to demonstrate that, the first cut comes across my arm, blood flowing down onto the sand. Another scrapes across my stomach. Both are painful, and I know Braxus could have done far worse.

“You’re going to beg me to kill you before I do it,” he says.

I can’t see his attacks coming well enough to be able to stop them. It is as if he is everywhere and I just don't understand what's happening sufficiently to be able to fight back on even terms.

I remember what Alaric told me: there are some animals around the arena. I can feel them, can feel the wheeling watching carrion birds, waiting for their meal. I can feel hundreds of eyes on the fight below, and in that moment, without even thinking about it, I reach out for them.

I am watching myself now, watching my opponent, and I can see the fight from every possible angle. I can feel the birds staring down at the fight, even as I’m still in it. And they whisper to me.

Dodge! Move!

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 allow Braxus’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.