CHAPTER TEN
I pace the preparation area beneath the colosseum, listening to the sound of a bout taking place above me. I don’t watch it, though, wanting to stay focused on my upcoming contest.
Alaric is there, in the guise of an aging trainer. He looks at me with worry.
“You’re too nervous,” he says.
“Nerves before a fight are a good thing,” I point out. “The adrenaline will keep me sharp.”
“Not for this fight,” Alaric insists. “Not with an opponent who uses fear as a weapon.”
“What do you suggest I do, then?” I ask. I don’t know how I’m meant to stop myself from being on edge when I need to fight for my life in just a few minutes.
“Sit,” Alaric says, pointing to a stone bench. “Take deep breaths. Calm yourself.”
I do what he says, but it doesn't seem like enough to overcome the tension of the battle I’ll need to fight soon.
“There’s so much riding on this, Alaric,” I say.
Alaric nods. “But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that it’s a fight you can win. You have the full powers of a beast whisperer. What does he have? Just a few illusions! Get out there and win this, Lyra.”
I can feel my confidence growing, so that when the guards come to bring me to the gate, I feel ready, not afraid. My trident and net feel light in my hands as I wait for Marcus to announce the fight.
“In this corner of the colosseum, we have a fighter who should need no introduction. A fan favorite. I give you Lyra!”
I walk out, waving to the crowd as they cheer me. For this contest, a long platform has been set up across the middle of the arena. It's broad, but there are spikes below, so that any battle here will be like fighting on a bridge.
“Fighting her will be a terror of foes, a man who hunted the enemies of the empire under Tiberius, and who wields fear itself. I give you Karubus.”
The colosseum falls silent, and for a moment, I think it's just anticipation as the gates on the far side open, but now I can feel the oppressive weight of disquiet spreading out over the crowd as Karubus steps out onto the platform.
Alaric’s illusions didn’t do him justice. He’s tall and pale, with ice white hair bound back from cold blue eyes. He wears black armor, studded with spikes, while he carries a scythe, as if he’s some kind of harbinger of death.
“Begin!” Marcus calls out, but even his voice isn’t filled with confidence and authority anymore.
Almost as soon as he says it, Karubus charges.
I wasn't expecting a physical assault. Instead, I assumed he would stand off and use his powers against me, trying to stop me from closing. I have only a second to bring my trident up, and then we're exchanging blows, the crash of metal and metal resounding above the strange silence of the crowd.
“You aren’t strong enough, you know,” Karubus says, his voice coming out as a harsh whisper. “Not strong enough to stand against me. Not strong enough to save everyone else.”
I feel the sting of his scythe on my forearm, drawing blood. I retaliate with rapid thrusts of my trident that force him back.
I can feel his power wrapping around me like a fog, drawing my fears to the surface. So far, he’s only using psychomancy, digging into the darkest areas of my mind and trying to sap my confidence.
I reach out for the strength of animals in the arena, but somehow, impossibly, I can’t feel them. It’s as if my magic has fled from me, or as if every animal has been driven away. There’s nothing to borrow speed and strength from, nothing to lean on to make myself Karubus’ equal.
He attacks me again, in a flurry of sweeping blows that drive me across the platform, forcing me to dance away from the edge to avoid falling to my death.
“Why not let yourself fall?” he says. “It’s inevitable. As inevitable as Selene taking power. As inevitable as her killing those you care about.”
“Get out of my mind,” I snarl at him, knowing that he’s digging into my fears.
He just smiles the rictus grin of a corpse, before stepping back from me and moving his hands like a potter manipulating clay.
I brace myself, ready for an onslaught of deadly creatures, everything I’ve ever been afraid of.
But the truth is that I have never been afraid of beasts.
Alaric’s slavering wolves weren’t something that truly worried me, and it’s obvious Karubus knows that, because that isn’t what he conjures before me.
Instead, I see Alaric killed a dozen different ways in front of me.
I see him run through by a guard’s sword, impaled on a spike, torn apart by animals.
I see him disintegrated by Selene’s magic and beheaded by an executioner’s blade.
Everywhere I look, there are images of his death, and I can’t look away, caught as I am in my fears.
“It’s all just illusion,” I tell myself. “It isn’t real.”
“It will be, though,” Karubus whispers, and now that whisper seems to be in my mind, not out on the bridge.
Somewhere in those images, I see a scythe approaching, and I barely remember that not everything is an illusion in time to bring my net up to foul the blade. I wrench it from Karubus’ grip to send both weapons tumbling down among the spikes.
Karubus draws a dagger as long as his forearm and gestures again.
“So many people have died around you,” he whispers. “So many of the lost want their vengeance.”
I see images forming around him, ghostly at first and then more solid. It reminds me of the way Jor summoned the spirits of his ancestors to fight with him, but these aren’t the same. These are images of people I know.
Vex appears, haughty and noble, body still covered in the wounds that killed him. Knives dart out from him, propelled by telekinetic force, so that I must dodge and duck to avoid them. One of them cuts my side, and I cry out with pain, even though my mind knows that all of this is an illusion.
Cesca is there, even though I don’t know for sure the gladiator is dead. She’s merely missing after she betrayed Selene, and my fears are filling in the rest. She darts at me with an iron sword, sparks dancing along it so that I yelp with pain and drop my trident as the two weapons clash.
There are more enemies around me now, and more friends.
All those I killed in the arena. All those who died or are lost because of me.
All those who might still be lost. I dodge and duck, feeling the pain of wounds even though they don't appear on my flesh, and still, I don't have the strength to fight back against Karubus.
I can't connect to any of the beasts around the arena.
Somewhere in the violence, the other images fade, and Marcus steps across the platform. His hands crackle with lightning.
“I love you, Lyra, but I need to break you.”
“Marcus-” I begin, but lightning flashes out from his hands, forcing me to my knees in agony. The memory of the last time he did this roars into my mind, even as I try to tell myself that none of this is real.
“I need to make you into the perfect servant,” Marcus says, standing over me with lightning still pouring from his hands as I scream. “You’ll kneel beside me while I take power, and I’ll make you mine.”
I can see someone else approaching. My focus is so completely on Marcus that I barely see Karubus getting closer, his blade in his hand.
That will be the finishing blow. He still needs that, even as I feel the pain of the other wounds.
“It’s an illusion,” I mutter to myself. “It’s an illusion.”
“Your fears are real,” Karubus whispers to me.
They are, and normally I’d be able to reach for the power of the creatures around me to overcome that fear, but Karubus has cut me off from that power.
Except he doesn’t have the ability to do that. That isn’t his magic. His magic is about illusion, picking out my greatest fears and seeming to make them real. But that doesn't mean those fears are.
Being helpless is one of my greatest fears. I've experienced it too often in my life, cut off from my powers by magical dampeners, unable to fight back against those who want to hurt me. Of course, Karubus would be able to create the illusion of me not being able to touch my powers.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t. I might not be able to feel the power of the animals I’m taking energy from, but it’s there.
I know what it feels like to call on that power, and I do it, trusting that it will come to me.
I remember Alaric’s words before the fight: that I have the full powers of a beast whisperer, while all Karubus has is a few illusions.
An animal rage roars through me, and the illusions melt away.
I can feel myself almost bursting with power as I leap to my feet, flinging myself at Karubus.
He slashes at me, but I block the blow, slashing back at him with fingers that are now claws.
They tear into the exposed parts of his flesh, sending him staggering back from me.
He keeps stepping back, and now I can see the fear in his eyes. I leap at him again, and he takes one more step, but there isn’t any firm ground behind him now. He slips from the platform, arms pinwheeling, dagger falling from his grip.
For a split second, I'm tempted to let him fall.
But that's my fear and hate talking. I turn my lunge into a grab, my claws digging into his armor and flesh as I haul him back up onto the platform, tossing him to his back there.
He starts to rise, takes one look at me standing there over him, and slumps back.
Karubus’ grip on the crowd fades, and the cheer that washes over me is almost overwhelming. There’s no need to announce that I’m the winner of the fight. Everyone knows.
I stand there, letting everything I've borrowed from the animals around me fade. The fears Karubus has brought up are fading, too, but in a strange way, I'm grateful for them. They've helped me to clarify so much about what I care about.
And who.