Crimson Trials

Chapter Seven, Harken

Damyan rolls over in his bed and I shuffle one of my knives in my hands as my ass pushes into the stone floor. Damyan's cell or room I suppose, is exactly like mine. Only his is closer to the pit than mine. We've been sitting here in silence for a long time, both lost in our own heads after sharing what we'd both learned from his resonance of the prison and my chat with the three women seemingly running the place.

Mara seems like the one with the most balls of the three, but the other two are more dangerous, purely for their magic alone. Jackola especially since Damyan had managed to figure out that the Vrucian warrior was also a powerful water wielder. Gaedier seems powerful too, her air magic wasn't hard to push through to take our weapons back, but it wasn't effortless either.

"Why do you think we are here? Honestly." Damyan doesn't look over to me though I look up from the knife twirling in my fingers. "If the king wanted us dead he could have ordered it done. It didn't have to be in the trials."

"Yes, it had to be."

There's a long pause and Damyan blinks slowly and sighs. "Maybe not for you, but I could be killed quite easily."

"Not with me free you wouldn't. I think the king knows that too."

He grunts. "Encouraging. Thank you."

I study the small cracks in the stone on the wall across from me in the small room. "I think he wants heroes."

Damyan coughs. "What?"

"The king. He wants people in here, going through the trials that people can cheer for."

"People have been placing bets and cheering on prisoners for years."

"But not like this. Think about it. The Red City's two highest-ranked fire wielders, in a game of death. The king is giving Dieran people something to cheer for and watch."

Damyan looks about ready to hurl. "I was hoping to keep to the sidelines."

I snort. "Seems that won't be happening."

More silence falls over us and I stare at the engraving on the metal of my knife. It's old Xennian, the symbols tarnished with time and years past and unreadable now. It's the only knife I carry that's old, something in all these years has made me keep it and yet there has been no reason to.

"Four days Har."

I nod, though Damyan is still staring at the ceiling. "I know." Mara had said a week yesterday, but from talking with others, or at least those willing to speak with us we'd figured out the actual date and though a week would be easy to assume, the first trial is always on the fourth. The rest follow on each consequential weekend.

"What do you reckon it will be the first time around?"

It could be anything, I think that much has been made clear to everyone either in the trials or not. The surprise of not knowing what might kill you is part of the torture. It could be something from the Tieretien Forest, or it could be an ultimatum from the king. Something makes me think it won't be something in which people can find loopholes. It's going to be something physical, something tangible for an audience to watch.

"Nyxes."

Damyan scoffs. "Fairies? Har seriously, that's your guess."

"I hate the things, like flying rats." I groan.

Damyan laughs, not the deep, full laugh I've gotten accustomed to over the years, but a laugh so foreign to this place all the same. "I guess if you forget the fact that they are similar to tiny blue people than rats."

I shiver. Nyxes are little flying four-limbed creatures and they turn blue as they grow, though they only grow to be about the size of a boot the flying rats have sharp teeth that can do some serious damage, wings like a bat- maybe they are more like violent horror bats than rats. Their skin is blue from living in and close to the cold waters of the North Sea. Shove I don't know ten or so of them in the arena, they could flood it.