“Alden!” Braden banged on the pinewood door again. “We need to go. We’re going to be late!”

“Just give me a minute,” Alden shouted back through his inn room door. He had finished strapping on his vambraces, greaves, and breastplate, and had gone to the corner to fetch his new sword. His bone sword remained in its place in the corner, untouched. The metal sword should have rested beside it with their hilts touching, but the weapon had disappeared.

The young Shaman looked around the room in confusion. The window was on the second story, and Alden knew he would have awakened if someone had crept in to steal the sword. He was a light sleeper and always awakened when his brothers crept around at night to pounce on him and wrestle. Yet he’d slept through the night undisturbed.

“Alden!” Braden called again.

Alden looked around one last time. Finding nothing, he sighed, kicked his straw bedding, and froze.

Sunlight through the window glinted off something shiny in the bedding.

Alden flung his sleeping furs aside, dug into the straw, and pulled out the sheathed metal sword. The weapon had been tucked into the side between Alden and the wall, where he wouldn’t see it. Kicking the edge of the pile where his feet would rest had uncovered the hilt.

The young hunter hefted the sword sheath-first in his hands and gaped at it. “How did you…?”

“ALDEN!” The entire band shouted at him from outside his door, and the pounding of several fists rattled the door in its frame.

“I’m ready!” Alden shouted back. He strapped the metal greatsword sheath to the leather buckles on his back and rushed to the door.

Alden, Lalaine, Braden, Jincra, and Grath rushed through the streets and arrived at the registration hall as the guards were shutting the doors. Their disapproving frowns said they didn’t appreciate the Sacram band barging through at the last second.

None of his band wanted to listen to Alden’s story that his new sword had somehow magically crawled into bed with him overnight.

In a frantic rush, the five hunters shoved through the front doors. The same red-haired man from the day before ushered them to a side door and down a long staircase. Several minutes of walking down stairs and through tunnels led Alden and his friends to a large room carved into the rock underneath the city. Various areas of the cavern were sectioned off with low fences for each tribe to use as storage.

The band flung their packs down where the red-haired man showed them and rushed out through the cavern toward a tunnel at the far end of the room. Wind whistled across the rough stone, and as Alden ran he saw the breeze came from a large opening at the other end of the passageway.

Glaring sunlight blinded Alden as he barreled through the tunnel mouth and out into daylight. Hot sand baked the soles of his leather-wrapped feet. The teeming crowd roared, and Alden skidded to a stop in the loose sand. He had never heard or seen so many people gathered together in one place.

The arena was an oval pit carved into the mountainside, at least a hundred feet deep and easily five hundred feet long. At each end stood a massive gate made from megafauna rib bones lashed together with rope. The gate through which Alden and his band had entered was raised up with a series of metal-laced bone chains which disappeared into narrow holes bored into the smooth rock walls.

Up above, a wooden wall stood atop a ring of sharpened bone spears jutting inward from the sides of the pit, obviously designed to keep beasts from escaping the arena. The packed stands rose in tiers of benches above this wooden palisade.

Thousands of people, mostly human but including members of almost every race, screamed cheers down into the arena. Alden felt the weight of thousands of eyes pressing down on him. But rather than feeling smothered by their attention, the audience fed the young hunter’s drive to succeed.

All the hunting bands from the various tribes filled the arena floor. Alden spotted the Kilna tribe close to the opposite wall. Duarth noticed the latecomers and frowned at Alden before shaking his head and pointedly turning his attention elsewhere.

Alden also saw hunting bands from other races down in the pit. There was a band of Avyh, the fey race. Avyh stood only three feet tall but made up for their diminutive height with agility. Wings sprouted from each Avyh’s back, wings made of pure energy which rippled with fluorescent color patterns distinct to each individual. Alden marveled at their long pointy ears, bright hair colors, glowing eyes, and glowing spots sprinkled across their bodies. Their clothing was skintight and flamboyantly colored.

One black-haired female Avyh hunter with vivid red wings caught Alden staring and winked at him.

An Aibeck hunting band was present. The purple, tentacled hunters wore little clothing as was their custom, and stood apart from the humans up against one of the walls. Their furry muscles rippled with tension. If any hunter from another group came too close, the Aibeck band glared at the intruder until he got the point and backed off.

The Ishal did not compete in these trials, nor did the Kryf, so Alden was not surprised to see none of their hunters. The Ishal were half-flesh and half-spirit, gray-skinned humans with black hair and black sclera in their eyes, and considered it too dangerous to connect with the other races because of possible spiritual contamination. The Kryf were woodland humanoids partly made of wood and plants. There had been a war between the Kryf and the other races in the distant past over logging rights. Nowadays, the Kryf tended to kill anyone who got too close to their border, especially humans. Both Ishal and Kryf refused to take part in the trials because they refused to recognize a unified government.

Alden was surprised, however, not to see the hunting band for the tribe of Naital whom he knew lived not too far from Sacram village. This was one of the few villages Sacram traded with on a semi-regular basis. Their race was partly human but mostly animal, with long, furry ears, backwards knees, shaggy fur from their knees to large paws for feet, long tails, and fur gloves from the elbows down to their hands. Alden worried that perhaps they’d been swallowed up already by the Scourge spreading through the northern lands.

A loud gong rang throughout the arena, and Alden craned his neck to look up. A huge wooden stand was built into one section of the arena seating high overhead to provide the government workers a comfortable place to stand and watch the fights. Numerous Siki scurried about the stand looking for seats.

The middle-aged man who’d rung the gong lowered the rod he’d used to strike the rare metal device. He had olive skin, wore flowing red robes, and had long gray hair arranged in multiple braids. The robed man immediately reminded Alden of Duarth, and he knew he was looking at Huarth of Kilna, current Imperator of the nation of Veruscia. Huarth had held the throne for thirty winters, as long as Kilna had ruled the nation.

Huarth spoke, and his deep voice echoed perfectly into the arena pit.

“Most honorable greetings, assembled tribes. I welcome you all to the Bloodpit Trials!”

The hunters and the audience cheered. Huarth waited for the noise to die down before he continued.

“I am Huarth son of Garthok, and I am head of Kilna tribe and Imperator of Veruscia. Today begins the Trials, the determination of who shall lead our great nation through the winters ahead.”

The crowd roared again. Huarth didn’t wait this time but motioned for silence.

“These games keep us unified and prevent bloodshed. There has not been war between two tribes of Veruscia for over two-hundred winters. We gather today to insure a peaceful future for our children and grandchildren.

“The rules are simple. Each team will compete in a series of fights against giant beasts. The teams will earn points based on the beast’s lethality and the hunters’ speed, technique, team tactics, and injuries. The Siki who help govern Ceralahn city will decide how points are awarded to each team. They have declared themselves neutral and hold this neutrality sacred, thus they are the perfect judges.”

The Siki up in the stands cheered and waved at the audience.

“There will be a short break after the first three rounds of fights for the tribes to return home and attend to your tribal matters. Any who are low in points may stay home without shame. Each morning of the competition, hunter bands are to report to the registration hall to see if they are competing for the day.

“Bear witness, honored tribes, as the gods choose our next Imperator. Glory to the greatest hunters!”

The crowd thundered their approval.