Page 96 of House of Serpents and Slaves

The opposition's leader let out a bark of laughter that was quickly taken up by his men. "Look at them run!" he shouted, his voice carrying across the arena. "The mighty Marcus and his champions, scurrying away like rats!"

"Afraid of a chained beast?" another called out, though I noticed he kept well away from the dragon's reach as he advanced.

Their taunts grew bolder as we continued our circular retreat. They turned their backs completely on the dragon now, focused entirely on running us down. Even when a hot gust of the creature's breath stirred their hair, they paid it no mind, convinced the chains would hold.

I watched their confidence with a mixture of pity and grim anticipation. They had no idea they were being maneuvered exactly where Marcus wanted them - where the dragon wanted them. With each step, they moved deeper into the killing zone, and their laughter took on an increasingly hollow sound that echoed off the arena walls.

The dragon's massive head rose higher, those ancient eyes now fixed on the exposed backs of our opponents with terrible intensity. Steam curled from between its teeth, and I felt the temperature around us begin to rise. Still they came on, still they failed to see the trap they were walking into, too focused on what they thought was easy prey ahead of them.

A low rumble built in the dragon's chest, like distant thunder, but in their battle-lust and triumph, they didn't seem to hear it. Or perhaps they chose not to, believing themselves safe from thechained beast. Their formation began to break as faster runners pulled ahead, eager to be the first to reach us.

Behind him, others realized too late the trap they'd walked into. Our sudden advance had pushed them back toward the dragon's reach, and now panic spread through their ranks as they found themselves caught between our blades and those massive jaws. The dragon's rumble became a roar that shook the very sand beneath our feet.

"Hold the line!" Vitus screamed at his men, but fear had already taken hold.

A gout of flame erupted over their heads, close enough that I felt its heat on my face. The acrid stench of sulfur filled the air. Three of their men broke formation completely, trying to run. The dragon's tail whipped through the air with impossible speed, catching one in the chest. The crack of breaking ribs was audible even over the battle noise, and his body flew into the arena wall with bone-crushing force.

I drove forward, taking advantage of their terror. My opponent had recovered from the broken nose, but blood streaming down his face had half-blinded him. His parries were desperate now, clumsy. I feinted left, then spun right as Septimus had taught me, letting momentum carry my blade through a gap in his guard. Steel bit deep into his side, and he went down screaming.

To my left, Antonius fought with the fluid grace that had made him champion three years running. His sword moved like quicksilver, opening throats and severing tendons with surgical precision. But even he was showing signs of fatigue - his reactions a fraction slower than usual, his breathing labored.

"Keep pushing!" Marcus called out. He engaged two opponents at once, his blade a blur of motion. "Drive them back!"

Another roar from the dragon, followed by screams of terror. I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw its massive headdescend, jaws wide. A gladiator tried to roll away but wasn't fast enough. Those terrible teeth closed around his torso, lifting him into the air. Blood rained down on his companions as the dragon shook its prey like a dog with a rat, before swallowing him whole.

The sight broke something in their remaining fighters. The disciplined warriors who had charged so confidently across the arena were gone, replaced by terrified men who could think only of escape. But there was nowhere to run. The dragon's chains allowed it to reach almost to the arena walls, and our line pressed them steadily back into its killing zone. Over on my left, I caught sight of Maro desperately fending off two warriors, and I turned to go and help him, but a sudden wave of heat drove me back and I watched in horror as fire engulfed all three of them. Maro stumbled, still somehow standing. His scream changed pitch, became something inhuman as his flesh blackened and peeled. The stench of burning meat filled the air, and I fought back bile as he staggered, still somehow standing, his skin bubbling and sloughing off in sheets. The dragon's tail whipped around, ending his suffering with a sickening crunch.

Around me, the battle descended into pure chaos. The dragon's tactics were as ruthless as they were effective - it would snap at groups of fighters, forcing them to scatter, breaking up any attempt to reform their lines. Those who strayed too close were snatched up or burned alive. Those who tried to retreat were met by our blades.

Yet still they fought, the desperate strength of condemned men making them dangerous despite their fear. Vaius went down to my right, a sword in his gut. The woman who killed him immediately engaged Tarshi, their weapons moving almost too fast to follow in the fading light.

The dragon screamed in frustration as another fighter darted just out of its reach, the chains groaning against the stone columns. I needed to get closer, but I couldn't see a way forward.At least a dozen fighters still remained between me and the dragon, and I could already feel myself tiring.

"Keep formation!" Marcus shouted, but his voice cracked with strain. "Don't let them split us up!"

"Gods, they're breaking through!"

They were. Despite our best efforts, the other team had rallied. They fought with the desperate strength of condemned men, and we were all so tired. I watched in horror as Quintus fell, then Gaius, then young Lucius who'd only joined our ludus three months ago.

The dragon's chains rattled as it lunged at another fighter who strayed too close, but the iron collar held firm. Its frustrated roar shook sand from the arena walls. Golden eyes met mine for a moment, and I felt its rage and hunger like a physical force.

Two gladiators from the other team broke away, trying to flank us. They didn't see the dragon's head snaking down behind them until it was too late. Those massive jaws closed around the first man's torso, lifting him screaming into the air. Blood rained down on his companion, who stood frozen in horror. The dragon swallowed its prey whole, then caught the second man as he finally tried to run.

I remembered my visits to the dragon's pen, how Drusus had ordered its rations cut to nothing this past week. "Hunger makes them fierce," he'd said, smirking down at me as his hands... No. I couldn't think about that now. But I looked up at his viewing box, saw him lounging on his cushioned seat, enjoying the spectacle. Hatred burned in my gut, almost as hot as dragon fire. Soon, I promised myself. Soon he would pay for everything.

"Livia, watch out!"

Septimus's warning came just in time. I dropped and rolled as a spear thrust through where my head had been. Coming up in a crouch, I slashed at my attacker's legs. He jumped back, butSeptimus was there, bringing his axe down in a deadly arc that split the man's skull.

Our eyes met briefly across the corpse. His hand touched the hammer at his belt - a silent question. I shook my head slightly. Not yet. I needed to get closer.

Marcus was fighting two men at once, his sword a blur of motion. But I could see the strain in his movements, the way his shield arm trembled. Blood ran down his leg from a deep gash in his thigh. As I watched, he stumbled slightly, and one of his opponents got inside his guard.

The blade opened a long cut across his ribs. Marcus fell to one knee, barely getting his shield up in time to block a killing blow. I started toward him, but three opponents stood in my way.

The first came at me with a wild swing. Exhaustion made me slow to parry, and his sword bit into my shoulder. Pain flared hot and sharp, but I used the momentum to spin inside his reach, ramming my blade up under his chin. He fell, but the other two were already on me.

I caught a mace on my shield, felt the wood splinter. My sword arm was growing numb from the shoulder wound. A kick took my legs out from under me, and I hit the sand hard enough to drive the breath from my lungs. Rolling desperately, I barely avoided a blade to the throat.

---