Page 148 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
The Phaedran woman comes at Dru again with a ferocity she’s never encountered, thrusting and stabbing forward without relenting. Dru thwarts her every attempt, while knowing she can’t tire herself out like this. Blocking another thrust down into the ground, Dru kneels down, grabs a fistful of dirt, and tosses it into the woman’s eyes.
Dru’s spear piercing her throat cuts off her virulent scream.
Without giving Dru a moment to catch her breath, someone else barrels toward her out of the corner of eye. Grabbing her shield off the ground, she rolls toward them, lands on her knee, and thrusts the point of her spear upward. Their eyes widen in surprise as blood gushes from the wound directly below their chest. With a short yell, she yanks the sword from their flesh and they fall to the ground.
“Better get up—it’s not over yet,” a familiar voice says behind her.
She turns on her heel to find Marcus standing above her, offering his hand. She gets to her feet with his help.
“When is it ever over?” She glances around, finding more than half of the competitors dead or bleeding out on the arena floor. Many of them wearing red arm bands.
She’s about to question his judgment, when she watches a Durevolian throw his spear at one of the Phaedran soldiers on theoutskirts. It meets its mark in the fleshy part of his leg and she gasps. Blood gushes from the wound as he falls to his knees and then collapses to the ground. Crimson soaks the dirt beneath him.
The crowd goes silent. Until a few rise up from their seats, their voices starting to cheer louder and louder, until the cheers become one tangible phrase:
“Morte all’Imperium! Morte all’Imperium!”
Dru searches the crowd of mostly Durevolian spectators, standing and pumping their fists into the air in tandem with their mantra.
“Death to the Imperium,” she whispers.
One of the few Phaedran left leaps out from behind the stone pillar, aiming for Marcus. He brings up his shield, going toe to toe with them.
Dru moves to help, when she notices a spear flying straight for her—she gets her shield up just in time. The impact forces her to stumble back as the point of it splinters the shield’s thick wood and digs into the surface of her armor, but doesn’t penetrate it.
Facing her attacker, she recognizes him as the man she beat in the first trial. Fury blazes in his dark eyes as he stalks toward her, yanking another spear from a lifeless body on the ground.
Tossing her useless shield to the side, she breaks her spear in half against her knee and grips both ends, taking a run at him once again.
Having given him no room to throw his next spear, she presses her advantage. With his spear aimed directly at her heart, she crosses the separate pieces of her own and thrusts upward. She bends her neck backward as far as it’ll go to avoid his sharp spearhead and slides on her knees as his weapon changes direction, lifting his arms and leaving his midsection vulnerable.
Breaking off, she dives forward before he can recover, thrusting the metal tip of her spear into the space between his ribs where the armor isn’t tied tight enough.
Crimson spurts from the wound, spraying her breastplate. He staggers, dropping his weapon, but doesn’t fall. Breathing hard, Druclimbs to her feet and kicks out, making contact with his stomach and forcing him to the ground. Where he stays, unmoving.
Marcus comes up beside her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she says breathlessly, gesturing at her last opponent. “Don’t worry about me; worry about Cato.”
He touches her wrist. “I’ll always worry about you.”
She almost smiles before picking up the dead man’s fallen spear.
Looking around her, more bodies litter the ground. The Durevolians have now started fighting the Phaedran soldiers on the edges of the arena, wounded and outnumbered. The spectators cheer louder and stronger—a sea of rebels demanding blood.
Only a few soldiers fall before three drum beats sound, and Legatus Ambitus stands to quiet the crowd.
“Stop this madness,” he demands. The arena refuses to quiet, until more soldiers fill the stairs of each row, hands firm on the hilts of their swords.I didn’t realize they’d brought so many here with them.Fear turns in her stomach.
“There was no cause for the Durevolian competitors to attack innocent Phaedran soldiers trying to keep the peace.”
“No cause?” Dru asks, while Marcus wonders, “Peace?”
“Because of this, the Durevolians involved must suffer the consequences of their actions. Drop your weapons and face your crimes.”
The Phaedran soldiers pick up their fallen swords and force the competitors without weapons to their knees. Those with spears glance at one another and continue to stand, but for how much longer?
“Stop!” Cato yells. Spinning around, Dru finds him beside the stone pillar. Blood drips down his face and chest, though she can’t be sure if it’s his or another competitor’s.
