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, bodiespressed 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 overcrowdedstands. "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."
