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“Aye,” Seph said, cleaning his blade and walking toward the man who’d spoken. “It’s me.” He motioned at the rest of us. “I’m sure you remember the champions of Pelas?”
Whispers filled the cages along the walls.
“Is it really them?”
“I thought they were dead.”
“What if it’s a mage trick?”
Nica cleared his throat. “We are the champions of Pelas. I don’t know what you may have been told, but let us tell you the truth. We escaped from House Natas, we joined the Resistance, and we’ve come to take this city and free every slave within its walls.”
“How?” someone shouted. “How did you escape?”
“I freed them.” Theon, Florin, and Cedric became visible at the mouth of the tunnel. More gasps filled the room. Walking forward, Theon lifted his arm, the NatasNbrand facing outward. “I freed them,” he said again, voice growing stronger with each word. “I’m a mage, but I’ve been a slave, the same as you.” He turned, making sure the brand on his arm could be seen by all.
“Bullshit! No mage has ever been a slave.”
With a snarl, Nica turned on the one who’d spoken. “He was. Thrown to us as a prize for victories on the sands. Fed the same gruel. Held captive. Beaten.”
“How did they keep him? Why didn’t he use his power to escape before?”
Theon took a deep breath, and I swore I could see the decision to share his secrets lift a weight off his chest. “I didn’t know I was a mage.” He swallowed hard. “My name is Theon Mydon Baniti. I’m the bastard son of King Oswyn Mydon of Enos. My mother was human.” Gasps escaped throughout the room, mouths hanging open in surprise. No human-mage halfling had ever been born with magic. At least not to the general public’s knowledge. Theon started to pull his tunic up and over his head, exposing his skin. “I shouldn’t have power, but somehow, I do. I just didn’t know it until Natas tied me to a post and whipped me.”
With the scars laid bare for everyone to see, Theon turned in a slow circle. Silence filled the room. A person might fake a brand on their arm, but the scars on Theon’s back told a story no one would endure willingly, and most of us in this roomhadendured it.
Theon continued, “As he beat me, and then my lover, Florin, I felt something building in my chest—a fire I couldn’t hope to control. It burst out of me, knocking Natas to the ground and allowing the rest of my lovers to get free. Lord and Lady Natas were both killed, and we escaped Zyon that night.”
The silence dragged on, men looking from Theon to all of us spread around the room, to the dead mages at our feet, and finally, to each other.
“Even now,” I said, projecting my voice so it would carry around the room. “Resistance warriors are inside the city, getting into position to take the arena. Everyone is concentrated here—mages and slaves from all three kingdoms. If we take this arena right now, the city will be ours, but we need your help to do it. The Resistance doesn’t have the numbers to fight all the mages on our own, but with you, the best warriors in Pelas—and now,free men—we will win the day.”
The Venerati who’d spoken first lowered his sword and stepped toward Theon but looked over at Seph. “You bore witness to this?”
Seph nodded. “I did. He speaks the truth.”
Theon tugged on his tunic and slipped it back in place as the Venerati’s eyes landed on him.
“Who here would choose freedom?” The Venerati asked, turning in a circle and eyeing the men in the cages.
“I!” a stout, balding shifter shouted from the front of one of the cages. “I choose freedom. I’d rather slit a mage’s throat than kill the innocent creatures they pit us against any day.”
A murmur rippled through the cages, more and more men voicing their assent.
I looked at our party. Nica was beaming at me. Braz, too. Seph had his chest puffed out in pride as the Venerati’s moved to unlock the cages, freeing the Venerit warriors. Looking through all the people moving in the space, I met Theon’s gaze. He smiled sweetly and started making his way to me. All of them did. Seph and Cedric reached me last, but once they had, I hopped up onto a bench and lifted my arms, asking for quiet.
“My fellow Venerits. You are now Resistance warriors. When this match ends, we take to the sands. The rest of the Resistance will descend upon the mages from the top of the stands while we fight our way up from the bottom—crushing the mages between us.”
A cheer rose up from the mass of fighters once more. The audience cheering above us was loud enough to hide our cries from the mages. My fellow warriors were hungry for battle. I recognized it in the glint in their eyes and the unrest in their bodies. Hope beat in my chest like a hammer. Today would be ours.
Dropping down from the bench, I went to the gate. My family was already there waiting. They stood in a line—Florin on the far left, Braz to his right, then Nica and Theon with a space left between them for me.
“Never thought we’d be standing here again,” Nica said when I fell in line with them. He’d stripped his clothes, leaving only the amulet around his neck as he intended to shift the moment the gate started to lift.
Braz snorted. “Neither did I.”
“Wait,” Theon said. “Is this where you always entered the arena?”
“It is, precious. And if I remember correctly, the half-orc and I were having an argument about you the last time we were here.”
