Page 5 of Gladiator's Captive
Pain flashed where the blade sliced through the side of my ribcage. For ten years I had watched men die on this same patch of sand, had witnessed how fear killed them before the fatal blow even connected to their flesh. It was only the discipline born of years of training that allowed me to squash the panic that gripped me to a remote itch at the back of my skull.
Death was breathing down my neck like a jealous mistress.
Not today.
Clearing my mind from anger and hatred, from all desires of freedom, I called on my training as a Muharib warrior. I could not win this fight if I was distracted by emotions. The cold space within my mind forged by generations of Muharib warriors running through my veins awakened. I relinquished all feelings to the dark place where they lay in wait.
Then I fought.
I bolted to the side, right behind the Mandrago. Not a second after, the second Agapit’s club landed on the sand where I had been. I just avoided a lethal blow to my guts, but now the monstrous creature’s weapon was down. Using the moment where the Agapit was defenseless, I grabbed the Mandrago’s knife, jerking it from the ground where it was embedded, then quickly turned around and threw.
My aim was as true as ever and the knife dug deep in the Agapit’s throat. The large mammalian jerked the blade free from his flesh in an instinctive gesture. Blood gushed from between his fingers, full of the life that was deserting its owner. The Agapit paused, looking down on himself with a stricken expression on its porcine features as his fur was drenched in deep red. Around, the crowd erupted in ear-shattering shouts as the first of the two Agapits fell on the sand, his blank gaze turned to the sky as his life spread under him in a pool of shocking red.
One Agapit was dead. I was now down to two opponents.
There was a pause in the fight as I rose to my feet. I shot a quick glance at the balcony, shaded from the harsh sun by a magnetic sail. Arenius sat in the front row next to a woman I didn’t recognize, his face taut and his mouth twisted in a grimace.
I’m not dead yet, you bastard.
I turned to my remaining opponents, shaking my shoulders loose as I held my twin swords high. I could smell the fear coming from their bodies in waves of acrid pheromones. Their limbs were tight with fear and their backs pulled straight to the point of breaking.
I had the advantage of fear and I had to strike fast.
I sprang, easily ducking under the club of the Agapit then knocked the Mandrago off his feet with a quick hook of my left foot. The lighter reptilian fell off balance, landing in a cloud of dust. I had no time to lose, so I lost none. When I turned on the Agapit, the mammalian was almost paralyzed with fear. I struck deep with my sword, embedding it to the hilt in the creature’s chest. I didn’t pause to see him fall. As I rolled to my feet, the Agapit fell behind me. Dead. Then I faced the lone remaining Mandrago.
And soon realized I had misjudged the slimmer, weaker fighter. This one had no intention of dying.
The Mandrago had seized the few seconds it gave him to gather his fallen knives and he stood on steady legs, ready to fight. The Mandrago moved, intent on having the advantage of the attack, as his lighter weight gave him the edge on speed. I dug my heels in the sand, preparing for the thrust that would give me enough power to pierce the reptile’s scales. The Mandrago’s knife struck high, but I blocked it with a fast kick, then countered low with my sword.
The creature’s scream of pain echoed somewhere above my head. Blood splattered, bright and red, as my blade sliced through the Mandrago’s shin. This wasn’t a killing blow and I knew it, but it was a maiming one. And once maimed, one was as good as dead in a fight to the finish.
As he stumbled away, the Mandrago slashed wildly with its knife, the blade embedding deep in the flesh of my shoulder. The Mandrago’s hiss of victory sounded just behind me. He thought I was incapacitated.
He thought he had won. It was a mistake he would not live to regret.
Ignoring the pain, I leaped, pushing on the ground with both feet, my sword held steadily, pointed in the middle of the reptile’s chest. It embedded deep between his bones and into his heart. Hot liquid poured over my hand as my gaze locked with the reptile’s yellow eyes. Surprise and dismay shone briefly in them before dulling over. Then he fell to the ground.
And I was left alone, victorious once more, the lifeless bodies of my enemies around me like some macabre work of art. My art, the art of death and blood.
The crowd erupted in cheers and shouts, thousands upon thousands blending together in the back of my mind. I returned to my feet, the cold veil of the fight falling down. The crowd went wild. The chant of my name was on their lips, their love a sick embrace on my soul. Voices melted in a meaningless blur.
I’m still alive. Gods know how, but I’m still alive.
I opened my arms wide, holding the twin swords, one in each hand, my eyes closed, my face up to the scorching sun. Between my ribs, my heart hammered, life flowing into my veins with each powerful beat. Each breath I took as a gladiator turned me more into a monster, pushed me further away from the warrior I once was. Each life I took for the amusement of the crowd, I became more and more the creature Arenius wanted me to be. A beast without a soul, a creature made of violence and death.
No more. I’m done with this life, done with death.
I opened my eyes. My gaze scanned the crowd, faces twisted with lust for more, screaming my name. Bile filled my mouth as the cheers of the crowd invaded my ears, resonated inside my skull like an insect’s chant. Imperial guards entered the arena to escort me back to my master’s home. Back to the serpent’s lair, where poison lined the walls of the gladiators’ cells and despair wept from the ceiling.
I will have my freedom. One way or another.
