Page 35 of House of Serpents and Slaves

I turned to see Marcus, the gladiator who'd been tasked with my training. His eyes were hard as he approached me.

"Listen carefully," he said, his voice low and threatening. "If you turn against us out there, I'll kill you myself. Understand?"

I met his gaze silently, my expression unchanging. After a moment, I gave a slight nod and turned away, hefting the hammer in my hands. What was the point? No matter what I did, they'd never see me as anything but a monster.

The gates to the arena creaked open, and we filed out into the blazing sunlight. The roar of the crowd was deafening, a cacophony of bloodlust and excitement. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the light, and took in the scene before me.

The arena was vast, its floor covered in sand to soak up the blood of countless battles. The sand burned beneath my feet as I took my position, scanning the opposite end for our opponents. Apparently sandals were only for human gladiators. Armour too. I walked out in the ragged linen skirt I’d worn since the soldiers had taken me captive and nothing else. Across from us stood another team of gladiators, their weapons glinting in the sun. And between us, emerging from trapdoors in the arena floor, were two massive skorpi, their chitinous armour gleaming and their stingers poised to strike. The heavy chains that restrained them would soon be released and then the real fun would begin.

As my eyes scanned the crowd, a flash of movement caught my attention. In the slave pens, separated from the main audience, stood a young woman. She was beautiful, with long dark hair and olive skin. For a moment, our eyes met, and I felt a strange flutter in my chest. For a moment I saw a flicker of something - not disgust or fear, but curiosity. I quickly looked away, my heart pounding. It was foolish to hope for anything more.

For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to be with someone like her. To feel the touch of another, to know the warmth of human affection. But I quickly pushed such thoughts aside. I knew the reality. Human women would never come to my bed. Even in my village, where I'd grown up, I'd had no friends, no female attention. Just fear and loathing. I was a half-breed, belonging nowhere and wanted by no one.

The roar of the crowd intensified but then quietened as Drusus strode to the centre of the sponsors’ box, his golden circlet and chain glinting in the harsh light.

"Citizens of the Empire!" His voice boomed across the amphitheatre. "Today, you shall witness a spectacle like no other!"

The crowd cheered, their bloodlust palpable. Drusus raised his hands, calling for silence.

"My gladiators," he gestured towards us, "will face not only the fiercest warriors from our rival ludus but also creatures of nightmarish strength!"

On cue, the arena gates creaked open, revealing the monstrous skorpi. The crowd gasped, then roared with approval.

"But that is not all!" Drusus's voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. "For today, they fight for a prize beyond measure."

He turned, pointing to a massive, iron-bound crate at the edge of the arena. As if on cue, the crate shuddered, and a bone-chilling roar emerged from within.

"Behold!" Drusus shouted. "The prize that awaits the victors - a dragon!"

The crowd erupted into a frenzy of excitement. I could feel the waves of anticipation rolling off them.

"To the victors," Drusus proclaimed, "goes the glory of taming this magnificent beast. To the fallen... well, let their sacrifice honour the gods!"

With a flourish, he raised his arm. "Let the games begin!"

The sound of a horn cut through my thoughts, signalling the start of the battle as the skorpi were released. I tightened my grip on the hammer, pushing all other thoughts from my mind. Here, in the arena, there was only survival. And survive I would, even if it meant fighting alongside those who hated me.

The battle erupted in a frenzy of clashing metal and bestial screeches. One of the skorpi lunged towards our group, its massive pincers snapping at the air. I side-stepped its attack, my hammer swinging in a wide arc. The weapon connected with a satisfying crunch against the creature's armoured head, sending it reeling back.

Nearby, Marcus and the other gladiators from our ludus engaged with the opposing team. The sound of swords meeting shields filled the air, punctuated by grunts of exertion and cries of pain. I caught glimpses of our opponents - a motley crew of hardened fighters, their eyes gleaming with the same desperation I felt in my own heart.

The second skorpus skittered across the sand, its stinger poised to strike. I watched as it targeted one of our younger gladiators, a boy barely old enough to grow a beard. Without thinking, I charged forward, my feet kicking up clouds of sand.

"Duck!" I bellowed, my voice carrying over the din of battle.

The boy looked up, his eyes widening in fear - whether of the skorpus or of me, I couldn't tell. But he heeded my warning, dropping to the ground just as the skorpus's stinger sailed over his head.

I brought my hammer down with all my might, catching the creature's stinger mid-strike. The impact sent shockwaves up my arms, but the chitinous appendage shattered under the blow. The skorpus let out an ear-piercing shriek, black ichor spraying from its broken stinger.

As I turned to face my next opponent, I caught sight of a gladiator from the opposing team charging towards me, hissword raised high. I could see the hatred in his eyes - not just the usual animosity between fighters, but a deep-seated loathing for what I was.

I met his charge head-on, using the haft of my hammer to deflect his sword strike. The man was skilled, but I had strength on my side. Each blow I landed sent him staggering back, the crowd roaring with each hit.

"Die, Talfen scum!" he spat, lunging forward with a desperate thrust.

I sidestepped his attack, pivoting on my heel to bring my hammer around in a devastating arc. The weapon caught him in the ribs with a sickening crunch. He crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

As I stood over him, hammer raised for the killing blow, I hesitated. This man was no different from the others who had judged me, feared me, hated me for what I was. But he was also a slave, just like me, forced to fight for the entertainment of others.

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