The criminals on display were sentinae and there was no better word for them but scum. But they never seemed to go away, despite seeing the penalty. Looking around, I couldn't help but wonder how many watching would one day join them in the arena.
"They've committed crimes against the flesh,” the announcer proclaimed. “And they've taken what was never theirs to take! Testing the heights of their greed. So it's fitting they should reenact the flight of Icarus. Let's see if they can fly to the sun and escape their fate.” He laughed. “Though they may be animals now, even former sons and daughters of Aeterna deserve a second chance!”
The spectators jeered, ready for blood, because there was no second chance. The only chance the sentinae had was the chance to choose which painful death was better.
“If I ever gambled on these games, this would be the only thing I'd make bets on,” I commented.
The twins slapped a hand together. “We already bet three will. Loser's also running ten laps.”
“What? Why didn't anyone tell us! Missing out on the fun.”
Tiberius's eyes crinkled mischievously. “Because unlike us gladiators, Saturnia, you two are respectable members of society. Quintus and I bet ten. Whoever's closest wins.”
“How respectable can we be if we're hanging out with you?” I countered before turning back to the execution. Although spectacle was probably a better word. My eyes narrowed. “All of them. I bet all of them will jump,” I decided grimly.
Some of the figures attempted to climb down with bound hands. But the fire was just as greedy as its victims and tongues of flame raced up the tower. The crackling sound layered over creaking wood. Higher and higher they rose and soon the criminals were faced with the impossible choice.
Burn alive or jump.
All but one chose to take the leap. Some tried flapping the wings in futility, but the flimsy panels broke immediately. Others didn't bother and just accepted their fate by falling face-first. And a couple were too late, already catching on fire. But none of them died on impact because the towers weren't tall enough. They lay there, broken and wailing in agony.
As for the one remaining, he watched them in horror as flames engulfed him. A groan of pain escaped and then another until his tortured cries swelled into an endless scream. When the flames died out, a.charred form was all that remained. Gladiators came out to finish off the fallen sentinae who begged for mercy. I could've bet their victims’ pleas had fallen on deaf ears too.
The smell of burnt flesh and hair hovered over us and suddenly I lost all appetite. I covered my mouth as bile rose up.
"Disgusting, just like them." Praxedes curled her lip. "They deserve the pits of Tartarus in the underworld."
A cloth appeared in my face. Blinking in surprise, I looked up to see Quintus holding it out. I started reaching for it before I hesitated. “Did you…”
The corner of his mouth twitched. "I haven't used it for training yet, Max. If that's what you're worried about.”
"No, I wasn't," I said quickly. Too quickly and he laughed. Accepting it, I placed it over my mouth to breathe through it. “Thank you.”
The group split into different conversations after. Saturnia and I fell deep into discussion with Corvus about how he settled on his technique with two different blades. Praxedes, Quintus, and Tiberius, however, were apparently arguing over the finer points of stew versus soup. But how they got onto that topic, I had no idea.
"No, I said it before. What's in it doesn't matter," she snapped. “It's about the consistency!”
“I call it stew if there's meat in it. Don't think anyone's ever heard of beef soup,” Quintus replied flatly, crossing his tattooed arms while Tiberius nodded.
Amused, I tilted my head to follow the debate. It was worthy of the ones people would crowd around to listen to in the forum. When I finally remembered to check the arena, trees and boulders had been scattered throughout. A group of about twenty men and women huddled together. They wore no armor and clutched their swords and shields tightly.
But it was the small group of warriors gathered in the distance that caught everyone's eyes. Quilted garments over loinclothes, paint and tattoos marking their features. And obsidian-tipped weapons.
"Behold!" The announcer boomed. "Warriors from Solis!
Surprised gripped the crowd with silence and a hush weighed in the air.
"They've been granted a fitting prey to hunt down. Once citizens of Aeterna, this pathetic group dared take up arms outside of the arena, threatening the safety of our own streets. They attacked the Solis people in the Forum. And as a gesture of good will, we give them to these warriors to capture and return behind their walls."
It wasn't difficult for us to fill in the unspoken words—that the prisoners would be used as sacrifices to their sun god.
The warriors pointed at the criminals cowering before them and began shouting and leering. Some spun and lifted their loinclothes while others didn't even bother to turn, doing the same. Saturnia clapped her hands over her mouth to giggle as harsh laughter erupted from the crowd.
Then one barked an order. He was dressed in highly decorated armor that also covered his arms and legs compared to the rest. And in the middle of the mocking, two of the Solis charged at the group. Maybe they felt brave in numbers, but the criminals rallied to meet their attackers, weapons raised. The two warriors crashed into them. Shouts filled the air as they began fighting.
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"Look," Quintus murmured, nodding his head. His fingers fiddled with the charm around his neck again.
The remaining warriors split into two groups of three and ran along the outskirts to flank the fighting. Letting out whoops and war cries, they descended on the group. Some of them launched off of a rock, their targets looking up too late. Ambushing just like a jaguar.
The fighting devolved into frenzied chaos and gutted screams, maimed but not killed. The Solis officer stepped back as the fight dwindled to one-on-ones. I watched obsidian hack into flesh, cutting off chunks, and my eyes darted to Praxedes and Corvus. But their gaze was fixed on the scene, studying.
And then it was over. The criminals were all dragged by their hair as they struggled desperately to escape, although a couple gave up altogether and fell limp. A new chant shook the Colosseum and the warriors paused.
"Solis!"
"Solis!"
"Solis!"
After a moment, the leader thrust up his obsidian tipped spear to thunderous appreciation before they disappeared from view.
"Well, that was fast," I said. “Looks like you're all running laps.”
“Should've known better than to bet against a Vita,” Tiberius said with a wink before crossing his arms and nodding approvingly. "As I like to say. It's all about precision. Quick and brutal."
The crowd was buzzing with excitement after that display as the arena was prepared for the last stage.
Saturnia hopped on her toes. "I don't know about anyone else, but I'm starving."
"I'll go with you." Quintus rose to his feet.
"Let's hope no one recognizes you here," I snickered. "Or you'll return with more clothes than you left with again."
He narrowed his eyes at me before shaking his head with a chuckle.
Corvus stood too with a groan. “I'm going to find something that's…not meat, gods. I can still smell them.
The three of them left, and it was just me, Praxedes, and Tiberius. I closed my eyes, trying to ground myself in the comfort of their presence. The death matches were up next and I prayed the omens were good.
"Tiber, how did it feel when you first fought here?"
"At first, I was overwhelmed,” he answered Praxedes. “But once I started fighting, my vision narrowed to the only things that mattered. It was no different from fighting in Romachia."
I cracked my eyes open. "That easy, huh?"
He shrugged, eyes crinkling again. "What can I say? Maybe I'm a natural."
When the others returned, Saturnia handed me some bread and cheese, along with slices of that green fruit we saw in the market. The one with the round seed.
"Figured we might as well try it here," she explained, popping down next to me.
The texture was rich and creamy, almost like a custard. “Oh. This…” This would make for a very, very smooth drink. But I was immediately distracted by what Corvus held in his hands and my jaw dropped.
"What?" he asked defensively.
"That's not fried fish."
"I got sick of it." He grinned. "Did you really think I'd eat it forever?"
His sister pushed up my chin to close my mouth. "Told you."
Before I could absorb that revelation, trumpets sounded and the announcer droned on about the start of the final events. But while there was only one fight I cared about, the second match captured my attention.
A lonely howl chilled the air, hollow and hungry. The kind that made my skin crawl, claws just about to graze my skin while fear choked in my throat. It was the same feeling I got the few times Felix told me about the verspilles when I refused to sleep. That the dog howling in the dead of night was really a wolf who could smell my disobedience. And when the morning came, it'd transform back into a man and no one would know what happened to me. But he stopped telling me that story when he realized it just made me stay up all night, afraid to move even a toe off the bed.
And just like the first time we heard the death shriek, an eerie silence fell upon the arena.
“Oh, gods above,” hissed Praxedes, rubbing the raised hair on her arm. “They're so dramatic.”
The fight was between a retiarius and eagle warrior, the same kind that ItzCoyotl had been. She watched silently as the fight dragged out, both quickly covered in gashes. It was brutal and neither looked like they'd stay standing for long when the judge called for a short break.
"Did the omens tell you about this fight?" I whispered to Quintus.
"It did not tell me anything about a winner." He tilted his head to look at me then pressed a thumb—his right thumb—against my furrowed brow. "And don't worry about Ursus. He makes his own fortune, it seems."
Below, with blood dripping from his mouth, the gladiator finally managed to tangle his opponent under the net. The warrior's own obsidian club dug into his chest. Trident prongs followed, stabbing through him completely. But by some godlike feat of strength, the eagle warrior ripped it out with a howl. And instead of trying to remove the net, he crashed against the retiarius, the weight of his body driving the obsidian shards deep into both their bodies.
They died where they fell, a tangle of mangled limbs. There was no distinction between whose blood was whose.
Whispers circled the Colosseum. This was the first time I'd ever seen this kind of outcome, when there was no winner. The omen was right.
“I'm guessing all the gamblers just lost,” Corvus said with a smirk.
As if on command, the murmur rose to an uproar and I laughed. A few more fights happened and Saturnia and I only had to turn away once when someone's intestines spilled out, grains of sand coating them. The borrowed cloth came in handy again.
Then finally it was time for the final match. Ursus. His opponent came out to fanfare and deafening cheers. The gladiator was slightly older but somehow even bigger. Both were a provocator, a gladiator type that only fought each other—the same kind Flavia was. They wore a full face, rounded helmet plumes, a large rectangular shield, and armor over their chest, arm, and legs.
Tiberius turned abruptly to the Magnus twins. "The two of you should start coming to every fight here, to study your potential opponents. Talk to people about the favorites and emerging fighters. We'll help too." He shook his head, cursing under his breath. "We should've said this awhile ago."
Praxedes put a hand on his shoulder, her blue eyes sharp. "It's okay. We've started to gather some information. But we'll be more diligent now."
"So, what do you know about this one then?" Saturnia asked. "He's huge!"
"That man is called the Cyclops. Both because of his size and because he only has one eye left."
The name sounded strangely familiar and dread crept over my heart. "Why do I recognize that name?" I asked slowly.
Tiberius turned to look at me, the usual gleam in his bright eyes replaced with a somber gaze. "Because he's the one who almost killed your father."
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