Page 31

30

T he dining hall felt different tonight. No victory songs, no boasting, just the quiet murmur of exhausted voices and the occasional scrape of a plate. Half the benches stood empty, a stark reminder of those we'd lost. The air hung heavy with sweat, blood, and dread.

I pushed my food around my plate, too aware of Tarshi's presence beside me. Even without touching, I could feel the heat radiating from his body, could sense every small movement he made. The strange connection between us seemed to grow stronger with proximity, making my skin tingle with the need to reach out, to find comfort in his touch. But I kept my hands firmly on the table, conscious of the eyes around us.

Across the room, Marcus sat with Antonius, both of them sporting fresh bandages. They spoke in low voices, heads bent together, probably discussing strategies for tonight. For the dragon. My stomach churned at the thought.

"You should eat something," Tarshi said softly, his voice carrying that gentle concern that made my heart ache. "You'll need your strength."

I shook my head. "Can't."

He understood. He hadn't touched his food either. After a moment, he stood, his movement careful - hiding the pain from his wounded shoulder. "I need to sharpen my axes," he said, loud enough for others to hear. Then, quieter, "I'll see you soon."

I looked up at him then, unable to stop myself. Our eyes met, and everything we couldn't say in front of others passed between us in that moment. My throat tightened with words I wanted to speak. Instead, I just nodded.

He left, and the space beside me felt suddenly cold. I watched him go, remembering how his hands had felt on my skin last night, how safe I'd felt in his arms. How different everything had become in just one day.

"Livia."

I turned at Septimus's voice, then immediately looked away. He slid onto the bench beside me, too close. When he reached for my hand, I snatched it away.

"Please," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Just... let me speak. Just for a moment."

I wanted to walk away, to keep punishing him for his betrayal. But something in his tone made me stay. I stared at my plate, waiting.

"None of us know what's going to happen tonight," he began. "A dragon... it's not something any of us have trained for. The odds..." He trailed off, then took a breath. "I know you don't want me to, but I'll be watching your back in there."

"I released you from your vow," I said flatly. "I don't need your protection."

"This isn't about the vow." His voice dropped lower, intense. "I want to keep you safe. I know I screwed up, I know I hurt you. If we survive this, I'd spend the rest of my life proving myself to you. But considering what we're facing..." He gave a bitter laugh. "Well, that might not be very long."

I finally looked at him. His face was sincere, eyes pleading. "I just needed you to know that I care about you. Really care."

"Do you?" I asked, studying his expression carefully.

"Yes."

"And do you trust me?"

"Of course," he said without hesitation.

I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "Would you do something for me? Something that could mean flogging or worse if we survive tonight?"

His brow furrowed. "What are you-"

"No." I cut him off. "I'm asking if you would trust me enough to do something, without knowing what it is. Something important to me."

He was quiet for a long moment, considering. Finally, he said, "I would do anything for you, Livia. Anything."

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of what I was about to set in motion. "Then I guess we'll find out if that's true tonight."

I stood before he could respond, before I could change my mind. As I walked away, guilt gnawed at my conscience. I hadn't wanted to involve anyone else in what I was planning. The punishment would be severe - possibly fatal. But I couldn't do it alone, and some dark part of me whispered that Septimus deserved to suffer for his betrayal, for the secrets and lies that had cut so deep.

Around me, the other gladiators continued their quiet conversations, cleaning weapons, adjusting armor. All of us preparing to face death in different ways. The dragon's roar echoed from somewhere deep in the arena's underground chambers, making the plates rattle on the tables. Several people flinched. Someone dropped a cup.

I kept walking, straight-backed, steady steps, even as my heart thundered in my chest. Tonight, everything could change. We could all die out there. Another roar shook the building, closer this time. I didn't flinch. I had faith that my scaly friend wouldn't hurt me, but I knew I would never be able to reassure the others, and even now a tiny doubt gnawed inside me that I could be wrong, that once that creature was unleashed upon the arena, that bond I'd felt might mean nothing at all. The dragon was still wild, still dangerous. One wrong move and I'd be ash like anyone else.

But I couldn't think about that now. Couldn't let doubt creep in. Everything depended on my certainty, on my ability to stay focused when chaos erupted. My life depended on it. I paused at the dining hall's entrance, allowing myself one last look back. Marcus was watching me, concern etched on his features. He started to rise, probably wanting to check on me, to offer more promises of protection and peace that I could never accept. I turned away before he could reach me. His dreams of a quiet life together felt like a sword in my gut - another person I would hurt tonight.

The corridor stretched before me, torchlight casting dancing shadows on the walls. Somewhere in the depths below, the dragon roared again. This time, I let myself really listen to it, trying to understand the notes of rage and frustration in that sound. It too was a prisoner here, forced to perform for Drusus's entertainment.

Not for much longer, I silently promised, both to myself and to the creature below. One way or another, this would end tonight. Either in fire and death, or with our freedom. I knew I couldn't go with Marcus, but I still wasn't sure if I could leave him, or Tarshi, or even Septimus. Things might have changed between us, but he was still my one link to my past, my anchor, and maybe even more, but I didn't want to think about that now.

The sound of footsteps behind me made me quicken my pace. I couldn't face anyone else right now - couldn't bear to see more concern, more fear, more determination to protect me. They all thought I needed saving, but they didn't understand. None of them did.

I wasn't looking for salvation. I was looking for freedom. And sometimes, freedom could only be bought with fire and blood.

The arena sand was already dark with spilled blood from the day's earlier fights, and more would soon follow. Around me, both teams of gladiators stood in ragged formation, our previous enmity forgotten in the face of what was coming. Nobody stood quite straight - some nursed broken ribs, others favored wounded legs or arms. The metallic scent of blood mixed with sweat and fear hung heavy in the evening air.

The hammer at my belt felt like an anchor, its weight unfamiliar and awkward. I adjusted it again, hoping it wouldn't throw off my balance when I needed to move quickly. The worn leather grip of my sword felt more reassuring, more natural in my palm.

Above us, the crowd's roar was deafening. I'd never seen the stands so full - they seemed to pulse with movement, bodies pressed against bodies until there wasn't even space to raise an arm. People clung to the support pillars, perched on each other's shoulders, crowded the aisles meant for walking. The setting sun cast long shadows across their faces, turning them into a writhing mass of darkness and light.

"Whole town's here," Antonius said beside me, his voice raised to carry over the din. "Including most of the imperial garrison, in case things get rowdy."

I followed his gaze to the rings of white-uniformed soldiers positioned strategically around the stands. Their armor gleamed in the dying sunlight, spears held ready. I guessed there was at least two hundred of them.

My hand tightened on my sword hilt as bile rose in my throat. Those pristine white uniforms, so careful, so precise - they'd been just as white the day they'd dragged the people of my village into the streets and butchered them. The blood spray had shown up so clearly against the white fabric when they'd run my brother through in front of me, Tarus little more than a child himself. I could still hear the screams of the dying in my head, far louder than those from the stands. Still see those soldiers as they went about their deadly work. They'd been so clean about it, so professional. Even their boots had been polished to perfection as they'd stepped over countless bodies. Now, watching them stand at attention around the arena, I wondered if these were the same men, if they ever thought about the families they'd destroyed, the lives they'd taken. Probably not. We'd just been another day's work to them, another order followed.

"Who's left to police the town?" I asked, forcing my voice steady, trying to push back the memories that threatened to overwhelm me.

Antonius laughed, the sound warm despite our circumstances. "What would be the point? Everyone who could walk, crawl, or be carried is here tonight." He gestured at the overcrowded stands. "Look at them - merchants closed their shops early, farmers left their fields untended. Even the temple priests are here, though they'll deny it tomorrow."

He was right. I could see the different classes mixed together in a way that never happened anywhere else - wealthy nobles in their silk tunics pressed against dock workers still smelling of fish, merchants' wives sharing space with tavern girls, children of all ranks squeezed into any gap they could find. The normal social barriers had broken down in the excitement.

The wooden support beams of the upper stands creaked ominously under the weight of too many bodies. If panic broke out, if the crowd tried to flee all at once...

"It's not safe," I muttered. "There are too many people."

"Safety stopped being a concern the moment they announced a dragon fight." Antonius shifted his shield, wincing as it pressed against a fresh wound. "They're here to see either a miracle or a massacre. Either way, they don't want to miss it."

The crowd's roar suddenly shifted pitch, becoming higher, more excited. I looked up to see Drusus taking his place in the viewing box, resplendent in ceremonial armor that had never seen actual combat. The sight of him made my stomach turn, but I forced myself to keep watching as he raised his hands for silence.

Antonius touched my shoulder gently. When I turned to him, his weathered face bore a fond smile that made my throat tight. In all the months I'd known him, he'd always been kind, always treated me like a person rather than property. I knew he was Marcus's closest friend, knew he dreamed of seeing us both free and happy together.

"Whatever happens tonight," he said softly, "it's been an honor to fight beside you, little warrior. You've come so far, you should be proud."

I reached up and squeezed his hand where it rested on my shoulder.

"The honor has been mine," I said, meaning it more than he could know.

Above us, Drusus began his speech, but I barely heard the words. In the depths below the arena, the dragon roared, drowning out even the crowd's answering cheer. I felt it in my bones, in my blood, in that strange place inside me that had always been different, had always been more. Soon, my majestic friend. Soon you will be free.

The massive iron gates to our right groaned as the ludus guards heaved them open on ancient hinges. Both teams had positioned themselves on either side, as far from the entrance as we dared while still maintaining our formations. The sunset painted the sand blood-red, and the usually smooth surface was churned and pitted from the day's earlier battles.

Through the gates, darkness yawned. The tunnel beyond seemed to swallow what little light remained. Another roar echoed from its depths, closer now, accompanied by the sound of chains dragging across stone and the heavy thud of massive feet. The temperature around us began to rise.

Marcus moved along our line, his voice low but firm. "Circle round fast, then hit them hard. If we can force them back toward the dragon, it'll do most of our work for us." He gestured to the other team, who were gripping their weapons with white-knuckled hands. "They might even manage to wound it before they fall. Then we go in for the kill."

The others nodded, the plan making sense from a tactical standpoint. But my heart raced as I tried to calculate how I could possibly get close enough to the dragon to do what needed to be done. The space between where we stood and where the dragon would emerge seemed vast and exposed. Too many eyes would be watching, too many swords ready to strike.

I glanced at Septimus, standing rigid a few places down the line. His face was grim, resigned, but I caught the glint of steel at his belt - another hammer, matching the one I carried. Something tight in my chest loosened slightly. He'd trusted me enough to follow that one instruction, even without knowing why. The gratitude I felt surprised me, considering everything that had passed between us.

But would he follow through when he realized what I truly intended? When the moment came, would he help me free a dragon, commit treason against the empire, and likely doom us all to a fate worse than death if we failed?

The sound of claws scraping stone drew closer. Sparks flew as they caught the iron bars of the gate, accompanied by a deep, rumbling growl that made the sand dance at our feet. The air grew thick with the smell of sulfur and hot metal. Even the crowd above fell silent, holding their collective breath.

I shifted my grip on my sword, felt the reassuring weight of the hammer at my belt. Everything I'd planned, everything I'd risked, came down to the next few moments. I thought of Tarshi, somewhere behind me with his axes ready. Of Marcus, who dreamed of our freedom together. Of Antonius, who'd been so kind. Of all the others who might die because of what I was about to do.

But then I remembered my family, murdered by those pristine white-uniformed soldiers who now ringed the arena. Remembered all the other families they'd destroyed, all the lives they'd ruined in the name of imperial order. Remembered the dragon's eyes when I'd visited its pen in secret, saw the same rage, the same need for vengeance that burned in my own heart.

A massive shadow filled the tunnel entrance. Steam hissed between the iron bars, and the first glint of scales caught the dying sunlight. The dragon was coming, and with it, chaos would follow. I took one last deep breath of relatively cool air, tasting the fear and anticipation that hung thick around us.

"Ready!" Marcus called, raising his sword.

I lowered into a fighting stance, but my eyes were fixed on the gate. Through the bars, I caught a flash of golden eye, pupil contracted to a slit in the fading light.

Yes, I thought, as the gates began to swing wide. Together, we would burn this whole corrupt empire to the ground.

The gates swung wide, and my breath caught in my throat. No matter how many times I'd visited the dragon in secret, nothing had prepared me for seeing it in its full glory, unfettered by the confines of its underground prison.

It emerged like living darkness, each movement a fluid ripple of muscle beneath scales that seemed to absorb what remained of the daylight. Those scales, black as obsidian, caught the dying sun's rays and reflected them back in bloody crimson highlights that made the beast appear to be bathed in fresh gore. Steam rose from between them, distorting the air around its massive form.

Its head alone was the size of a war horse, mounted on a serpentine neck that allowed it to tower above us all. Golden eyes, ancient and intelligent, swept across the arena with predatory focus. Each pupil contracted to a narrow slit as they adjusted to the light, and I could see my own reflection multiplied in their depths when that gaze passed over me. Despite our bond, despite everything I'd planned, primal instinct screamed at me to run.

The dragon's shoulders were broader than a merchant's cart, rippling with power as it moved. Four legs, each as thick as temple pillars, ended in curved talons that could disembowel a man with a single swipe. They left deep gouges in the sand with every step. Its wings, currently folded along its back, occasionally twitched and shifted, offering glimpses of the leathery membrane that could block out the sun when fully extended.

A massive tail, longer than its body and studded with spikes, swept behind it like a deadly whip. The tip carved patterns in the sand as it moved, and I watched in horrified fascination as it crushed a discarded shield left from an earlier battle into splinters without apparent effort.

Around its neck, the iron collar seemed obscene - a mockery of such savage majesty. Thick chains trailed from it, rattling across the sand as the ludus guards hurried forward with hooked poles to guide them toward the four great stone columns that marked the corners of the arena. Even through my terror, rage burned in my gut at the sight of those chains, at the scars they'd left on the dragon's scales over the years.

Behind me, someone whimpered. I heard the distinct sound of a bladder releasing, followed by a choked sob. From the other team, a young gladiator - barely more than a boy - suddenly broke ranks and ran for the arena wall. He made it perhaps ten paces before the dragon's tail whipped around with impossible speed. The crack of bone echoed across the sand, and the boy's scream cut off abruptly as his body hit the wall with a wet thud.

"Hold!" Marcus's voice cracked like a whip, keeping our team in formation even as I saw hands shaking on sword hilts, saw the sweat pouring down pale faces. Antonius had gone grey beneath his tan, but his shield remained steady. Even Septimus, for all his experience, looked like he might be sick.

The dragon released a sound that was part roar, part scream - a sound that contained all the rage and pain of its captivity. The very air vibrated with it, and I felt it resonate in that strange place inside me that had always connected us. Above, the crowd's screams of terror nearly drowned out their cheers of bloodthirsty excitement.

The ludus guards worked quickly to secure the chains to the columns, their movements precise despite their obvious fear. Each chain was pulled taut, limiting the dragon's range but still allowing it to reach most of the arena. I noticed they kept well away from its head and tail, using the long poles to maintain distance.

Steam hissed between its teeth as it tested the chains, muscles bunching beneath those terrible scales. One guard got too close, and faster than thought, the dragon's head snapped around. The man's terrified scream ended in a crunch of bone and armor, his body disappearing down the beast's throat in two quick gulps.

The remaining guards scrambled back to the relative safety behind the gates, leaving us alone in the arena with the creature. It rose up to its full height, chains creaking with strain, and spread its wings at last. The leathery membranes blocked out the sky, casting us all in shadow. Drops of something fell from its jaws - blood or venom, I couldn't tell.

Those intelligent eyes swept the arena again, but this time they lingered on me. Recognition flickered in their golden depths, and I felt that familiar connection surge between us. But there was something else there too - a wild, ancient hunger that no amount of human bonds could fully tame. Friend or not, this was still a creature of fire and death, and it had been caged, tormented, forced to perform for too long.

The first horn sounded - a deep, brass note that echoed across the arena. The dragon's head snapped toward the sound, a growl building in its chest that made the sand dance at our feet. The second horn followed, higher in pitch, setting my teeth on edge. I gripped my sword tighter, felt the weight of the hammer at my belt.

"May the gods protect us," Antonius muttered beside me.

The final horn blast split the air, and the dragon's answering roar shook the very foundations of the arena. The final game had begun.