“I’ve been hearing some legend,” Reaver said. “Among the gladiators, they say that if one does return, having left the arena free, it will bring the Dark Ones back with it, and there will be peace.”
I didn’t believe in prophecies, but there might be some rational explanation. No one could predict the future, not even powerful beings like the Lakunae. However, every story contained some nugget of truth. The Lakunae had promised peace. The most likely gladiator to win one hundred battles would be someone whom they altered and enhanced with their power. If that gladiator found the artifacts and assembled whatever it was the Void Gods wanted with them, maybe there would be peace.
“There is another legend,” Beatrix said, her voice low and solemn. “It is a hope and a dream. Maybe that is all, but it was told to me by another. It is of a place where there is peace already. A place where gladiators may travel to and commune with the Dark Ones. It is quiet. It is as black as a starless night.”
“What’s supposed to be there?” Reaver asked.
“No one knows,” Beatrix answered as she stared through the gate over the arena. “Some say it is a sanctuary. Others say it is a communication device to speak to the Dark Ones. Perhaps we should go there when we win.”
Black as a starless night, I thought, thinking of Ebon.
“Maybe we can,” I said. “Where is it supposed to be?”
Beatrix shrugged. “Somewhere cold, where the trees never die. Storms keep the flying things away. It is not obvious, and some who find it never return. Somewhere to the north.”
To me, it sounded a lot like the Ish-Nul village—or somewhere nearby. It also sounded like Void-tech. Maybe a weapons cache, or a bunker, but what intrigued me the most was the idea of communing with the Lakunae. If I could ask them direct questions instead of waiting for them to stick thoughts into my head, I might be able to learn what they were after. I might be able to find the rest of my crew.
We stood in silence for several minutes as the hologram replayed more close-ups from the battle. A few minutes later, lights came on all around the arena and flooded the battleground. The camera drones buzzed the audience with their own lights and showered small streams of brightly colored sparks behind them like fireworks. The audience howled their approval with roars of excited encouragement and shook the entire stadium with the force of their combined voice.
“Hurry back to your seats, citizens,” the announcer—Siddith—yelled over the stadium speakers. “Our next event is about to begin, and it’s going to be an exciting one!”
The crowd’s murmuring became a cacophony of whoops, cheers, and yelling.
“What should we expect?” I asked the women.
“Something bad,” Beatrix said. “They did pen us together, so whatever is coming up will involve all of us. The king would not allow for a boring match, and since Reaver and I are highly ranked, I am certain our opponents will be… special.”
“Any chance the king himself will fight?” I asked.
Reaver and Beatrix both laughed.
“Not a chance,” Reaver answered.
“Please take your seats, citizens,” Siddith interrupted. “Tonight’s special event will be The King’s Wrath!” The audience exploded in cheer.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Beatrix sighed before answering. “It means the opponents have been selected by the king himself. We will all be provided with weapons at the beginning of the match, though it is likely our opponents already have theirs.”
“Is he sending in the guards?” Reaver asked
“No,” Beatrix said. “They will be gladiators, but maybe none we have ever seen before. If he does not have enough at his disposal to make it a one-sided fight against us, he might toss in a few guards. But guards are paid. They do not have to fight. They would have to volunteer. I do not think even the king would force a guard to fight a gladiator. He would be risking an uprising from his own troops.
“Sometimes, the king will choose opponents based on their ability to cause fear. So, no matter what comes through the opposite gate, we must not be intimidated. We must not show fear. We must destroy them so that we may live and escape.”
A moment later, the wall of our pen opened to the arena, and we were bathed in bright lights and deafening sounds. A metal gate was still preventing us from entering, but I assumed it would open as soon as the match began.
Two guards pushed a wagon toward our pen, large enough to hold three people. The wagon had ropes lashed to the sides to keep the contents from falling and was covered with a filthy-looking canvas tarp.
One guard pulled the cart while the other pushed. When the one in the rear looked up to me, I recognized him. He was the guard who’d tried to talk me out of fighting with the others. He’d tried to keep me out of the arena. His eyes glittered with mischief as he looked at me.
I turned my head away from him so that the other guards wouldn’t be able to tell I had been staring at him. Whatever he was up to was something that could get him in a lot of trouble—possibly killed. Just before the guards stopped moving the cart into place, the mischievous guard used two fingers to lift a corner of the tarp.
There, mixed among several other weapons, was Ebon.
I’d left it with Yaltu. She was supposed to stay at her home. She knew some of the guards—obviously including the one who’d placed my sword in the cart. She knew other citizens, and many seemed to think of her as the rightful ruler. They treated her like royalty. Like the guard who snuck us into the city, they did things for
