Page 95 of House of Serpents and Slaves

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 wouldfollow. 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 theleathery 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.

31

The opposition charged across the blood-stained sand, their weapons raised and glinting in the dying sunlight. They showed a reckless courage that could only come from knowing they were already dead men - better to die fighting than be eaten alive. Their sandals kicked up clouds of dust as they ran, battle cries echoing off the arena walls. Behind them, the dragon's massive form cast long shadows in the sunset, its golden eyes tracking their movement with predatory intensity.

"Hold formation!" Marcus's voice carried over the thunder of approaching feet. "Circle left, keep it tight!"

We moved as one unit, our shields locked together, maintaining the disciplined formation that Marcus had drilled into us countless times in the practice yard. Every step was measured, deliberate, creating the illusion of retreat while actually executing a careful flanking maneuver.

---