CHAPTER SIX
There is one place I always gowhen I'm upset, one place I'm guaranteed to find comfort, and sadly that place is not Alaric’s rooms these days.
Instead, I walk down through Ironhold, heading for the beast pens. The scent of them hits me before anything else, in a mixture of dung andwarm earthy smells, the wet fur of animals, the occasional smell of blood from the meat they're being fed.
I hear the creatures next, with everything from hisses to roars echoing along the corridors. The sound is accompanied by the feeling of the creatures. Without the dampener on my wrist, I would be able to pick them up from anywhere in Ironhold. As it is, I must be closerto start to sense them, their minds and their essences, their emotions and their needs. I can feel the ones that are hungry, or angry, the ones that are briefly contented, the ones that are still hurt after bouts. I think they sense me as well, a thread of connection reaching out to them.
I move down into the beast pens, and now I see the creatures. They are spectacular, some of them kept in pens, some in cages, some restrained with chains that glow with magical runes. There is a giant snake, easily big enough to swallow a person whole. There are chimeras constructed using magic from parts of different animalsand bred just for fighting. There is a rhinoceros like ironhide, its hide and horninfused with the metal of its name.
And there are shadow cats. Most of them are kept in cagesenchanted to stop them from escaping by leaping from shadow to shadow, but one has a pen to itself, and rests there now, on its side, its silky black fur glisteningin the torchlight. I can see Stefano the master of beastsa little way away working witha horse like thunder hoof, using his talents for healing to help the creature. He is a burly man in his fifties, with thinning dark hair and a mustache. He nods to me as I enter. By this point he is used to me being in his domain, and seems happy enough for me to be here.
I approach the shadow cat in the pen, moving slowly. It rises as I do so, slinking towards me, disappearing through one shadow and appearing next to me. That is how the creatures hunt, and it makes them deadly, something to be feared. Except that this one purrs as it rubs against me, letting me run my fingers through its fur. It is almost fully grown now, almost as big as the others in the pens, yet it still reacts to me as if it is a kitten and I am its mother. I connected to italmost as soon as I arrived at Ironhold, and it has wanted to be by my side ever since.
“What am I going to do?” I whisper to the creature, trying to make sense of everything that is happening. Lady Elara’s news is troubling. Is it a coincidence that bandits have started to attack Seatide? Are they even bandits if they're just killing people? It feels as though something more is going on, but I don't know what.
My instinct is that I must be there, but I cannot be there because I am trapped within this fortressfor at least two more sets of games. I am not free to go to my people, to my family, however much I wish I could.
The pain of that hits me in a way that it has notfor some time now. I thought I had grown used to the idea that I was not free. That I have no choice other than to fight. Now though, I weep silent tearsat the thought of everything I'm powerless to stop.
I wipe those tears awayas I hear someone approaching on quiet feet. I turn and see Alaric. It has been a while since we met one another in the beast pens. Since we have simply spent time together here.
He approaches and draws me into his arms, clearly seeing how upset I am, reacting automatically. This side of him, without the arrogance or the distance, is what keeps drawing me to him.
“Lyra, what is it?”
“I've heard news of my home village,” I explain. “It is being attacked over and over by bandits, and I can't do anything about it. I wish I could just…”
“What? Flee here to go back there?” Alaric asks. He looks worried that I might actually try it. “Lyra, you understand that you can't do that, right? If they even think you're trying to escape, they'll kill you for it.”
“Do you think I don't know that?” I snap at him. “That's the point . I'm helpless here. I’m trapped.”
“You're far from helpless,” Alaric says. “You have come so far from where you started. You have become one of the most feared gladiators in the colosseum.”
“That doesn't help my family or the people of my village,” I point out. This isn’t about the colosseum.
Alaric steps back from me, looking at me carefully. “You can't focus on them. You can’t think about them, or it will drive you insane with worry.”
“I'm meant to just push my own family from my mind?” I ask. “Could you? We both know you don't.”
His mother is his patron. She paid the money for that so that she would be able to see her own son.
“This is a place where we need to focus on ourselves,” Alaric says. “Until our seasons are done, we can'tallow anything to distract us fromthe task of becoming the best gladiators we can be. Winning our bouts and survivingare the things that matter. Nothing else.”
He says it with such conviction, as if he actually believes that.
“Why do you say things like that, Alaric?” I ask. “Why do you pretend like nothing matters to you but the glory here?”
For a second, I think I see through his facade to some real emotion beneath. To pain and worry, to the part of him that I know cares about the world. All too quickly, it's replaced by the familiar maskof arrogance and humor that he uses to deflectany attempt to get deeper.
“Haven’t you noticed, Lyra? I’m all about the glory.”
“Even if I believed that, it wouldn't make it possible for me to just ignore what's happening to my village.”
“But you must ignore it,” Alaric insists. He puts a hand on my arm. “Don't you see, Lyra? You can'tgive your energy and your thoughts to something you can't affect. You need to focus on surviving, on winning. I came to find you because thebouts for the new season have been decided by Lord Darius and Lady Selene. I thought you would want to know.”
Lord Darius is the master of Ironhold, the former gladiator who is in charge of our training. Lady Selene Ravenscroft is the arch magistrate ofAetheria. Together, They decide on what will happen in the games, subject to the approval of the emperor.
A thought crosses my mind. “I could appeal to the emperor. Ask him for help with my village.”
Alaric shakes his head, looking even more worried now. “And when he decides to punish you for your impertinence? He could do something to you that will affect your performance in the games. He could make it harder for you to win.”
“Winning isn't the only thing that matters,” I insist.
“Of course it is,” Alaric retorts. “If the choices are victory or death, then you can only choose victory, whatever it takes. We do what's necessary here.”
“And what if there were something at stake that mattered to you?” I ask.
Alaric shrugs. “I wouldn't let considerations from the outside world get in the way. My intention is to win these games, Lyra. I only have this season before I’m able to go back to my family with honor. Then I can think about other things. But there's a world of difference between merely surviving and being the champion of the games.”
“And you would do anything for that?” I ask. “What about…”
I hesitate before I ask the question, because there are some questions that we don't ask here. Some questions to which it's better not to know the answer. I ask it anyway.
“What about if they made you fight me?” I ask. “What about if they said that the way to win this season and gain all the glory was to kill me?”
He hesitates and in that hesitation there's a kind of answer in itself.
“You would do it, wouldn't you?” I say, accusing him. “You would actually kill me out on the sands! I thought I meant something to you, Alaric.”
“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's necessary .”
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.