Still Sprawled

An argument between Darius and an arena lanista broke out. It was in Latin, rapid-fire, and then money changed hands. The gate swung open, and the lanistas dragged some of the untrained out of the cell. They were supposed to fight in the regular culling later in the day.

Above, the crowd had settled into a dull din, but as soon as the untrained were in the arena, it roared anew. Whatever was happening, it had the crowd at a fever pitch. Whoever this new warrior was, the crowd loved him, and they wanted to see him kill more helpless men. Flavia's body was probably still sprawled, lifeless, across the sands.

Gone Again

"They're loud today," Dael said.

"Fresh blood. Girl. Non-citizen. Condemned for killing a citizen. They said she was defending a slave." Avery huffed. "I saw her, as they led her and the other prisoners out. One gladius, no armor. She doesn't stand a chance."

"I thought the gladiatrix had their own rules and opponents," Dael said. His throat closed. Flavia. The crowd must have been cheering her death.

"This girl upset some important citizen, so --" Avery shrugged, winced. "Whatever you did hurt like hell, but it worked."

Dael sat back. He'd just gotten Flavia back, and now she was gone again.

Well Done

"How bad is it?" Dael asked quietly, propping Avery against the wall in a sitting position.

The other gladiators moved away.

"Ribs. Hip," Avery grunted.

He was also bleeding from the thigh. Dael couldn't deal with the gash till later - someone would notice. He could fix Avery's ribs, leave the flesh brushed and heal the bones. If Darius found out what Dael could do, he'd never be free.

"You defeated the Lion. Well done." Dael smiled at Avery, who smiled back grimly.

Good. He was distracted. Dael built the blue energy between his palms, placed his hands on Avery's ribs, and pushed. The crowd's roar drowned out Avery's scream.

Unless Spoken To

"It's not your fault –"

The lanistas hauled him off balance and dragged him back to Darius's cell, locked him in.

Dael clung to the bars. "Flavia!"

The only response was the other fighters and inmates hooting.

Darius lashed out with his club. Dael recoiled sharply, barely missed having his fingers smashed. "Do not speak unless spoken to."

Dael opened his mouth to retort, but then Darius turned, calling out a jovial greeting.

Avery had survived against the Lion, if barely. He was limping, favoring his left side. His eyes were devoid of emotion.

"Well done, Breton," Darius said. "Maybe some more Roman matrons will come for you."

Avery stumbled into the cell. Dael caught him.

Alive How?

Darius's lanistas growled. "Keep moving."

Dael twisted in his grip. "Flavia!" She was alive? How?

Surely she and Angelus had been tried and condemned --

Condemned.

She was condemned to die in the arena.

"Dael, I'm so sorry. I'll get you out of this, I promise." Flavia clung to the bars, gazed at him with fever-bright eyes.

"Where is Angelus?" Dael asked. The lanistas tried to drag him, but he planted in a solid stance.

"Escaped. Fled."

"He abandoned you?"

"Escaped. Now go. Survive. I will free you from this." Flavia's expression was full of sorrow. "I am so sorry. This would not have happened to you if not for me."

One of Darius's lanistas released Dael, prowled closer to Flavia.

In a Prisoner's Cage

Dael nodded. "Win. I will."

Osbert's mistress smiled and drew up her hood. Then she called for Darius's lanistas.

As they led him back to the cell, he listened to the crowd, their cheers and shouts, boos and hisses. Were they happy or disappointed? How was Avery faring? The Lion was an arena favorite. More than once, Darius had bemoaned selling him to a competitor.

The prisoners hooted and hollered at him; they thought they knew what had gone on between Dael and the woman.

And then Flavia called out. "Dael!"

He turned instinctively and saw her, in a prisoner's cage.

Just Win

The woman threw back her red hood. She was a Roman citizen, matronly, elegant. Not Flavia.


"We will sponsor you," Osbert said. "Help you obtain food and medical treatment. So you can succeed. My mistress wishes to have the best in her personal guard." He lowered his gaze. "My mistress is compassionate. She cares for me. She knows you helped me survive the crossing." A blush crept up his cheeks.

Osbert's mistress smiled indulgently. "You are a rare specimen - that hair, those eyes."

"Thank you my lady."

"No need to thank me. Just win."

It Is You

Darius's lanistas dragged Dael out of the cell and herded him down the tunnel to one of the empty cells where they held prisoners awaiting execution by combat.

They shoved him into a cell and locked the gate after him. The two robed figures followed along, and they remained outside the gate.

Dael knew the rules: don't speak until spoken to. He crossed his wrists behind his back and bowed his head, waiting.

"They call you the Adder, do they?"

He brought his head up sharply. "Osbert?"

The shorter of the robed figures drew back his hood. "Dael - it is you."

Matrons of Rome

Two robed figures stood on the other side of the bars. Dael recognized the deep red cloak. His throat closed. No. It was impossible. Flavia had had a gift, but it wouldn't have saved her from death. While he'd been in a cell waiting to be sold again, or maybe when he'd been on the practice sands at Darius's ludi, Flavia had been executed. Or had she been? Dael had assumed, practiced the drills Flavia taught him as if he drilled enough times, she would tell him to correct his form.

Darius leered. "The matrons of Rome appreciate an excellent warrior."