CHAPTER SIX
Being in the resistance doesn’t mean what I expect, at least not at first. Alaric doesn’t send me out on raids like the one at the warehouse, doesn’t throw me out into the city to cause chaos or spread the message that figures within it are corrupt.
“What’s Alaric waiting for?” I ask Thalia as the two of us walk along the promenade leading to the colosseum. We’re both dressed as ordinary folk, there for the day of games that’s promised. “Why isn’t he making more use of me?”
“In the resistance or in his bed?” Thalia counters with a laugh. “Because honestly, that’s where I assumed you two would have spent the last few days.”
A part of me assumed it too, because Alaric and I were together for a long time, and the same stark, sharp edged attraction is still there between us every time we’re close.
But neither of us has acted on it in the brief time since I’ve joined the resistance.
Maybe it’s because we’ve managed to hurt one another in so many different ways in the time since we both moved to my home village of Seatide together, or maybe it’s something else.
“I guess he’s just being careful with you,” Thalia says, as we get closer. “Now remember, keep the hood of your cloak up and try not to let anyone see your face. Certainly don’t mention his name in earshot of anyone else. We don’t know who might be one of Selene’s lackeys.”
The precautions seem like a lot when all we’re doing is going to watch the latest set of games, but I guess that kind of caution is necessary now that I can’t just walk in and demand to inspect everything about them.
We join the throng of people trying to get in.
It’s a place I’ve never been before. I’ve always been either one of the gladiators fighting in the colosseum or one of those in the grand boxes dotted around the upper tiers of the stadium.
I must admit, it’s a very different feeling, being one more face in a sea of humanity.
The colosseum isn’t full today, but it’s still spectacular. Flags flutter in the breeze, vendors shout odds for the bookmakers or sell food from trays. People press in on me from every side. Thalia and I pay the small coin required for entrance and hurry in.
“It’s best if we split up,” she murmurs to me. “See everything you can, overhear any whispers about the grand tournament, and I’ll meet you back at the safehouse. And Lyra?”
“Yes?”
“Try not to get spotted.”
I frown. “It shouldn’t make a difference whether people see me or not. No one knows I’m part of the resistance, and there’s certainly nothing stopping me from going to see the games.”
Thalia sighs pointedly. "You're smarter than that, surely?
You think Selene won't have people watching for you?
Or that the Senate doesn't have spies who watch for any of the resistance?
If you're seen here, you'll quickly be the center of attention. You might have done nothing wrong… yet, but it will still make you a target.”
With those words, she hurries off into the crowd, obviously determined not to be too close to me in case something does go wrong.
I try to settle into the crowd as well, which isn’t easy when my powers let me feel their excitement and their bloodlust. The crowd feels like a single living organism, one that’s building up to a fever pitch.
“Citizens of Aetheria,” a voice calls out from the council box, and Marcus steps to the front to be seen. “Welcome to the games. Today, you will see gladiators fight in exhibition bouts for your delight and entertainment.”
“Give us the real games!” someone calls out.
“Now, my friends,” Marcus says. “I look forward to the grand tournament myself. But let’s not be hasty. Today exists to whet your appetite, so drink in the spectacle, feast upon the clash of blades, and enjoy!”
With that, the first gladiators walk onto the sands.
One is a familiar figure, a short, dark haired woman, dressed in armor so brief it’s scandalous and holding a slender sword that’s as much a conductor for her ability to generate sparks of lightning as a weapon in itself.
Cesca has long been a fan favorite, and they cheer her now as she takes on a pair of what appear to be twins who tumble acrobatically around her.
I wonder, as the bout continues, whether Cesca will continue to take part in the games now they’re to revert to the old style.
She was always timid about placing her life on the line, always quick to try to latch onto those who were stronger and who she thought might protect her.
My guess is she won’t want to risk death again if she can avoid it.
For now, the twins seem to be giving her trouble, moving around Cesca quickly and lashing out with flexible rope-darts that sting and draw blood.
One wraps around her legs, sending her tumbling to the ground.
Cesca succeeds in striking her attacker with her blade as he closes in, leaving him twitching on the ground as her lighting arcs through the blade.
The second attacker manages to loop his rope dart around her arms, though, leaving her helpless as he sets his dart to her throat while he looks up at the council box.
“The contest is at an end,” Marcus says.
The stadium erupts in a mixture of cheers and boos at the conclusion to the bout.
The twins help Cesca from her tangling bonds, raising her to her feet.
She bows elegantly to the crowd, then places a kiss on each of the twins’ cheeks in a gesture that draws fresh cheering from the crowd.
Especially when she takes their hands to lead them off.
Cesca has made a show even out of her defeat, but I can see the fear on her face.
She clearly knows that, if this bout were to take place just a short time from now, it might end in her death.
The next bout is already being set up. A trio of gladiators move out into the arena, armed with nets and tridents that remind me of the weapons I used to use on the sands.
They wear partial armor, designed to protect their most vital areas while leaving plenty of bare flesh that might suffer non-lethal wounds.
Nets are lowered around the edges of the crowd, obviously designed to contain something and stop it getting into the stands.
Once they’re in position, a voice comes from the council box. It isn’t Marcus this time, but Olivia.
“Our next bout is a show of skill against deadly beasts. One that will give you all the blood you could wish. Release the creatures!”
A gate at the far end of the arena opens, releasing a trio of creatures that look like ostrich sized hawks, except that their wings are glittering and sharp edged, their feathers like razors.
These are razor wings, deadly creatures that normally fly far above their foes, flinging their feathers like darts, or flying at them and slicing them open.
The nets in the colosseum mean there’s only so high they can fly, though, and they mill around in a flock that circles the gladiators in the moments before they attack.
They fling their razor like feathers, forcing the gladiators to dodge, but one is cut nonetheless.
The crowd roars in response as blood sprays the sand, but the razor wings are just getting started.
They dart down towards the gladiators, swooping past them, slicing at the exposed portions of their flesh with their wings. The gladiators cry out, but one of them manages to throw his net at one of the razor wings, bringing it to the ground before thrusting with the trident he holds.
It should be blunted, but instead, it pierces the razorwing’s heart, leaving the great bird to twitch and die on the ground.
The crowd roars in response and I know this is deliberate, something designed to give the crowd a taste of blood and death without risking the lives of the gladiators.
The razor wings will be able to hurt them, but not kill them, while the gladiators will slay them in return.
It seems deeply unfair, a travesty against the games.
The arena is a mere butcher’s block now, on which to slay these magnificent animals.
I can’t bear to watch it, so I send my awareness out instead, looking through the eyes of the other animals around the colosseum, looking into the council box through the senses of a rat no one has noticed, scurrying in the corner.
“I wasn’t told they’d be fighting with fully sharpened blades,” Marcus says.
Olivia shrugs. “It’s what the people want. As Selene points out, now my proposal has passed, we should get the people ready for the bloodshed to come.”
I drag my awareness back to myself, grateful Marcus didn’t know about this slaughter, but still sickened by the fact it’s taking place.
Except… I can hear screams around me now.
Another of the razorwings is down, but the third isn’t trying to engage the gladiators.
Instead, it’s flying around the netting designed to contain it, running its feathers along those strands until it hits a weakness.
The net falls apart, and that means it doesn’t have to attack heavily armed gladiators anymore when it can target the crowd. It flies at the common folk in front of me and I curse, standing and throwing out a hand as I reach for it with my powers.
“Leave,” I command it. “Go in peace. Go from this city.”
I back the words with my power, holding the razorwing back and directing it upwards, into the open sky.
It barely pulls out of its swoop before it can slice into anyone, then flaps its great wings and is gone, escaping the colosseum and fleeing Aetheria, my mind pushing it as far away from the city as I can manage.
Even as I do it, I realize my cloak has fallen away from my features. I try to pull my hood up, but people are already staring at me and pointing.
“Lyra Thornwind! It’s Lyra!”
They sound surprised and excited to see me, but others have harder expressions.
“A creature going crazy like that? She must be behind it!” someone calls out.
People start towards me and I run through the crowd, pulling my hood up again.
Someone grabs for me and I shove them away.
I reach for the emotions of everyone around me, making them fear me, forcing them back so I can rush through them.
I make for the exit, and I’m fast enough that the guards don’t seem to realize what’s going on before I’m past them and out on the promenade beyond.
As usual, it’s thronging with people, so I keep my head down and try to lose myself in the crowd.
A hand clamps onto my arm and I turn, ready to fight, but it’s Thalia. She passes me a mask, along with a yellow cloak that’s a contrast to my dark one. I realize she’s somehow managed to snag a disguise for me, even as she’s caught up to me.
“Which part of ‘don’t attract attention’ didn’t you understand?” she asks.
“I didn’t set the razorwings on people,” I insist.
“No, but now I’m sure the rumors will be sure you did,” Thalia says, with a curse. “Come on, we need to get back to the safehouse. If you’re spotted out here now, the crowd might kill you.”
We sneak through the streets together, avoiding those who might be watching.
“It’s worse than I thought,” I say, as we go. “I overheard Olivia talking to Marcus. The match was her idea, or rather, Selene’s. Something so people could enjoy blood being spilled, and get used to things being killed in the colosseum again.”
“Someone must have deliberately cut corners with those nets, as well,” Thalia says. “Chains would have stopped them, but rope was never going to work.”
“Why would…” I begin, but I can guess the answer. “Selene knew I’d be there. She knew I’d intervene. Which means she wanted me to look bad.”
“That’s my guess,” Thalia says. “She would have known you couldn’t stay away from the games, that you’d want to see what was happening.”
“But if I hadn’t come…” I begin.
Thalia shrugs. “Then a few people would have died before the guards killed the razorwing. Do you really think Selene cares?”
I shake my head. Of course she doesn’t. Selene only cares about gaining power, and she’ll do whatever it takes to get it. Today was bad, but I suspect things are only going to get worse.