There are a few boos around the pit as I step out.It's not that they hate me, they just think I'm not going to be much of a challenge.Barca looks me over with contempt.
“You sure you're in the right place, boy?You'd be better off selling yourself out in front of this inn.”
He laughs and moves forward, fists raised.
I move around him, trying to gauge his movements.He throws a jab, and I slip to the side, reading the kick that comes after it and dancing back from it.Barca nods to himself.
“Looks like we got ourselves a runner,” he calls out to the crowd.They laugh dutifully in response.
I don't look at them, keeping my eyes on my opponent instead.He throws more attacks, forcing me to defend, because each blow has real power behind it.He throws one strike with his hand open, fingers aiming at my eyes.I move aside from it, secretly pleased that he's going for something so violent.It means he's finally starting to take me a little more seriously.
“Come on, boy, why don't you fight?”he demands.
I can hear jeers coming from around the pit.I don't listen to any of them.I wait and I watch, letting Barca come to me, letting him overextend.
Finally, I see my opportunity.Until now, he's been disciplined, but my defensiveness has lured him into chasing me, arms coming away from his body as he does so.I change direction sharply, power flowing through my body, my fists seeming to blur with the energy that pours into them.I step inside Barca’s reach and I hit him with a series of blows to the stomach that would fell most men outright.
He starts to double over with it, his own magic healing him and letting him absorb the damage.But I'm not done.I hit him with an uppercut that snaps his head back, then I leap up, throwing everything I have into a punch that connects sweetly with his jaw.My magic covers my hand with a plane of force as I connect and I hear the crack of breaking bone.
When Barca topples, it isn't the fake, exhausted tumble of the man who fought before.It's more like a falling tree, hard enough that he bounces from the floor of the pit, his eyes rolling back in his head.
I stand there, hand raised in victory in the silence that follows.People are too shocked to even cheer, at least at first.When they finally remember the noise is overwhelming, cheering and booing, arguing and excitement blending together into one wave of sound that runs through me, feeling better than anything else could.Moments like this are the reason I fight.I drink it in, loving everything about it.
I bow to the crowd then leave the pit, re-dressing, then heading up to the floor above to collect my winnings.People look at me warily now, with the kind of respect I was never given as a servant, the kind of respect my heroes used to get.
They're talking about me, but I'm surprised to find that I'm not theonlything they're talking about as I head to the master of the pit, collecting a small pouch of coins.I also head to one of the bookmakers, because I've bet on myself, obviously.That's where the real money is.It means I have to wait in line while the few others who've dared to bet on the newcomer collect their winnings.There aren't many, because who would bet on me against Barca?But there are a few who were drunk enough, or are there either to argue over the results or to make a bet on the next bout.
I'm waiting in the line when I hear it, one man talking to another.
“Forget this.The rumors say they’re thinking of starting therealfights again.Weapons, not fists.They're trying to get a motion through the senate, and the first senator can’t stop it.”
“They're always saying that kind of thing,” another man points out.
“Yes but this time, Lyra Thornwind is coming back to the city.A messenger just arrived to say she’s coming.Do you think she'd be here if they weren't planning to reopen the games?”
That name stops me short.Lyra Thornwind is the most famous of all gladiators, the beast whisperer who slew the emperor, who made it through her seasons and kept fighting anyway.If she's coming back, who knows what will happen?
CHAPTER FIVE: LYRA
I’ll never forget my first sight of the city of Aetheria, so long ago.Then, I was marching in chains, part of a long line of others claimed by the city.I remember how spectacular it seemed then, larger than anywhere I could have imagined and more beautiful as well.
It’s still beautiful, constructed in white marble painted in bright colors and decorated with the most spectacular effects of magic.Banners declare the locations of noble houses, while grand buildings stand over the city, festooned with statues and held up by elegant columns.The former imperial palace is at one side, surrounded by extravagant gardens, while elsewhere I spot temples to the gods and public baths.The docks are crammed with ships today, their masts standing like a forest to one side of the city.
The colosseum stands at the heart of it all, huge, round and imposing, not hung with flags anymore to declare the different factions in the games, but still adorned with statues of those who had fought within it and attained the acclaim of the crowd.
I look at the spaces outside the city walls next, the sprawling spaces filled with the poorest of Aetheria, the slums that seem as extensive as they ever have.How much has changed about them in the year I've been away?Is life any better for the people there?
Inevitably, my gaze is drawn further still, to the familiar, dark shape of Ironhold.The fortress prison is huge, constructed from black granite when the rest of the city is mostly in shades of white.It clings to a nearby hillside like a limpet, its walls still adorned with spikes, although I'm grateful to see that no one is impaled upon them now.When I first came here, the spikes were adorned with the bodies of those who had broken the rules of Ironhold too severely to be forgiven.
I can see figures up on the walls, though.What are they doing there?I hope they're not gladiators, not after Rowan promised that he would get rid of the games.
As far as I know, though, he's kept his word.He's done away with some of the key institutions of the empire, freeing slaves like his sisters and stopping the brutal spectacle of the games, where so many had died for the entertainment of the crowd, and to feed the stones beneath the city.
So much is the same as it had been, but much of the city is different as well.There have clearly been rebuilding efforts in the areas damaged by the uprising against the emperor, whole sections of buildings that I don't remember being there before.But there are also scars of the rebellion visible in some of the burnt-out buildings that haven't been replaced at the edges.As always it seems to be the poorest areas that are the slowest to recover.
I take a deep breath as I stand above the city.I'm alone by now.The messenger has gone on ahead, using whatever magic he possesses to outpace me as he seeks to return to the city.I guess that means that Rowan and others know I'm coming.
I could have kept up with the messenger, of course.I could have taken speed from the animals we passed along the way, but in doing so I would have risked draining them of their strength.And even if I didn't, there are risks to taking attributes from animals as a beast whisperer.I've seen others of my kind twisted by doing so, given animalistic features that they can't get rid of.
