Font Size
Line Height

Page 11 of Ironhold, Trial Two

“Reach out further!” Lady Elara says. “Feel!”

I'm standing in the ancient temple, reaching out with my powers, trying to sense the animals around. Each of my sessions with Lady Elara seems to proceed in the same way, even as she has been working on different nuances of the skills I possess.

I can feel so many creatures around me, but now I do not reach for all of their minds the way I did before. I know better than to try to split myself between so many consciousnesses, risking tearing my mind apart, and allowing some element of the beasts to control me.

“You must be the one in control,” Lady Elara says. “The goddess was a careful hunter, stalking her prey, understanding it so that she might take it down when she was ready. You must be the same with your magic. And you must not allow yourself to be distracted.”

Even as she says that, something stings my skin and I yelp. I realize that another figure is there, covered by the cowl of their robe, a heavy rope in their hands with a knot at the end. It is that which must have struck me.

“Concentrate,” Lady Elara says. “But do not forget about your surroundings. My colleague here will give you something to dodge and duck, but you must still be able to use your powers. You must find a way to reach out and connect with a single mind out there. There is a crocodile down here in the depths. Find it. Connect with it. Summon it. And try not to get hit too many times while you do so.”

She turns to leave.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“I have other business in this temple,” Lady Elara says. “I will return once you have succeeded.”

The rope is already swinging towards me so that I must duck it. It means I can't go after her, even if I want to. She has sent me a task, and I am determined now to succeed in it. I keep dodging the swinging rope, trying to find the part of me that can control beasts even as I do so.

It is anything but easy. As much of a natural part of me as my powers are, they still require concentration and effort, especially for something as subtle as this. I'm not just reaching out randomly the way I have in the Colosseum before, not just grabbing for the minds of all the closest animals. Instead, I must search the catacombs below the city with my mind, seeking out the one presence I have been tasked with bringing to me.

Every time I start to sink into a near trance, searching for the presence of the crocodile, the knotted rope stings my skin, dragging my attention back and making it clear to me that I would have been cut by a weapon in the arena.

“I don't see what Elara sees in you,” a woman’s voice says from beneath the cowl. “You draw too much attention, and you are nowhere near as powerful as she seems to think.”

I ignore the criticism, knowing that it is just one more method designed to distract me. I must keep my focus, keep trying to find the creature I'm looking for, even as the attacks continue. In the arena, I will need to be able to do this while a foe is trying to kill me. I have done it before but that is instinctive.

Maybe I can use those instincts now. I stop trying to systematically find the crocodile and simply reach out for an image of it in my mind. I gasp as my mind snaps into another, and I realize that I'm not in the crocodile because I'm looking down from the ceiling at people below. Lady Elara is one of them, while the other is shrouded in their robes, like all the others here, even like the one striking me.

“…to kill the emperor. I could do it easily,” the robed figure says. “It would stop the persecution!”

“It isn't just about death,” Lady Elara says. “It's about what happens then. If we are to bring about real change, Aetheria must be in a position to begin to accept it. Kill the emperor without doing everything else that's needed, and we simply give them another reason to hate us. We would be hunted down in spite of our precautions. We need them to love us. Then the emperor can die.”

Shock fills me at those words. They’re planning to kill the emperor?

“And you think that the gladiator is a necessary part of all of this?” the robed figure says. “She is too open, and-”

I don't get to hear more than that because another stinging blow across my flesh snaps me back to myself.

“Useless!” the robed figure in front of me says, even as she swings the rope around again.

This time, I catch it as it comes, and I reach out almost without thinking with my mind. I find the crocodile this time. I can feel its reptilian brain slinking along some of the old tunnels, keeping up sight until it can snatch prey. For the briefest of instants I am one with it, then I'm separate again, but riding its mind, coaxing it to me.

It comes scuttling quickly, short legs propelling it along the tunnels towards the temple. It has memories of this place, of being fed sacrifices in it. The crocodile is ancient, and it remembers the days when people would come here and offer livestock, even criminals, to the beasts of the goddess. It wonders if it is being called to feast once again.

I am simultaneously looking through my own eyes and those of the crocodile. I can hold the two viewpoints now, as it comes to me. It slithers out of the darkness into the patch of sunlight let in by the crack above. It waits there for me.

“Well done,” Lady Elara says, entering the temple space. I try not to think about the things I've just seen. The conversation I've just heard her having. I know she will not like me eavesdropping on her like that, even if it was accidental. “There, I told you she could do it.”

She says the last part to the robed figure.

“She has not finished yet,” the woman in the robes says. “There is still one part to go.”

Lady Elara raises an eyebrow. “We have not insisted on that for a long time.”

“And yet it is part of this,” the woman says, not giving any ground.

Lady Elara looks troubled, but finally nods. “You are correct. Lyra, there is another step once you have summoned the crocodile. You must demonstrate your control over it. You must be willing to put your arm in its mouth and hold back its hunger so that it will not bite.”

I swallow back my fear. “That’s… why would I do that?”

“If you wish to be a beast whisperer,” the robed woman says, “that is what it takes. It's easy to do half of the thing, but if you're ever going to be one of us you need to show us you can do everything.”

Do I want to be one of them? Do I want to be part of whatever secretive cult or society this is? Do I want to be the one hiding my face and plotting against the emperor?

“You can do this,” Lady Elara says. “It is no more difficult than when you controlled the Ironhide. Remember, we do not just communicate with creatures, we have mastery over them.”

“And if I don't want to put my arm in a crocodile's mouth right before the games?” I ask.

Lady Elara’s expression hardens slightly. “If you do not wish to train with me, you can return to Ironhold and train their way. You do not have to accept me as a patron. And I do not have to call on you further.”

Meaning that she would abandon me to deal with my remaining seasons at the Coliseum alone. Maybe I could manage it, but I have seen the importance of politics and connections within the games. I cannot afford to alienate the one person who can teach me more about my powers.

So I do what she asks. I command the crocodile to open its mouth, and I put my arm inside. It wants to bite down. It thinks that this is an offering to it. It wants to devour me. I do not let it. I stand there, holding it back, not letting it bite me.

Finally, I take my arm out, and the crocodile’s jaws snap shut. The creature slithers off into the shadows, and I look in challenge at the robed woman. I hope this is what she wanted.

“You did well,” Lady Elara says. “Now we should get you back, before they miss you.”

She has her palanquin return me to Ironhold. I'm grateful to just find Rowan and Naia playing dice in the main hall. I go to join them.

“Are you all right?” Rowan asks. “You look troubled.”

I am troubled. What I've heard suggests that the Spectral Covenant is doing far more than just helping people. Am I about to be dragged into an attempt to kill the emperor? Are they everything that he and his prophecy claim? And what about the way I was made to risk myself with the crocodile? I don't know what to make of them or what I should do. But I also know I can't talk about it. Not even with my friends.

“I'm just worried about the games,” I say. I am worried about them. They are almost upon us. Soon, we will need to fight for our lives once again.

“You'll be fine,” Rowan reassures me.

“And if you’re injured, I’ll patch you up,” Naia says. That makes a huge difference to the danger of the Colosseum. The healers around it are good but having a friend close by whose talent is for healing means that we have a chance to survive where we might not otherwise.

“I'm grateful for you both,” I say. “Without the two of you, I'd be dead by now.”

“Don't talk like that,” Rowan says. “You have your own talent and your own strength. You'll get through this. Five seasons, remember.”

I remember. I know his plan. Just get through his seasons and get out of there to buy the freedom of his sisters. It seems I'm wrapped up in more. Do I want to be?

I start to head back through Ironhold, heading for the bathhouse before I return to my room. I'm making my way along one of the corridors when I see Alaric. He must have returned from his own visit to his patron, whoever they are.

The most shocking thing is the bruise on the side of his face, flowering in purple, as if someone has struck him hard.

“Alaric!” I say, hurrying up to him, reaching out for the bruise without thinking. “What happened?”

He catches my arm, but gently, offering me a brittle smile. “Nothing of any importance.”

“It's important if someone hit you.”

He laughs, but again it has the edge of something forced. “I'm sorry to be the one to break this to you, but we're gladiators. People try to hit us all the time.”

And if this had happened in training, it would just be one more thing to shrug off. Even then, I'm not sure I would want to see Alaric hurt. But this has the feeling of something else.

“This is different,” I say. “If your patron is hurting you-”

“Leave it alone, Lyra,” Alaric says. “There is nothing you can do, and this… this is my business.”

“I just want to help,” I say.

“Why is that?” he asks. He moves closer to me. For a moment, I think he might reach out for me. Then he shakes his head. “Focus on yourself for tonight. The games are coming. You must be ready for your bouts.”

He turns and leaves. I could follow, but what would I say? It's obvious that Alaric doesn't want to talk about this. Sometimes, he feels as unreachable as the world beyond the walls of Ironhold. And if he will not let me help, then he is right. I need to focus on myself.

Tomorrow, the games begin.