Page 10 of Dominion
CHAPTER FIVE
The sound of keys clanking against metal woke Mateo and the other two prisoners up. He opened his eyes, rubbing them a little as he focused his vision on the man opening their cell. It was Cervantes, the doctore, and if he survived the day’s events, maybe his new trainer.
“Get up and move asses,” Cervantes commanded.
Mateo and the others rose to their feet, weakly as they had been starved of food for days. In all honesty, Mateo wasn’t sure how he would be able to fight a trained gladiator who was not weakened or dehydrated like he was, and still hope to survive at the end. He would surely need the favor of the gods, and he didn’t see that happening.
A part of him wanted to be resolved to his fate that death awaited him in a few short hours. But the other half of him wanted to fight with everything he had. Only time would tell when he entered that arena, which half of him would take the reins. His stomach grumbled as he exited the cell, and he pressed his hand on his abdomen as if to quiet it.
Once all three were out of the cell, Cervantes connected another chain to the loop on their collars, and then attached that to the metal loop on a carriage. Inside the carriage were seven gladiators, Haraka being one of them. Each man seemed to be carrying his own fighting gear in netted sacks, but no weapons. The men looked at them from the semi-comfort of the carriage and laughed.
“Keep up your pace or be dragged. We’re not gonna stop for you, comprehend?” Cervantes warned.
“Yes, doctore,” Mateo said, understanding what was said. He didn’t know if he had the strength to keep up with the carriage he was now attached to, but he’d try.
Cervantes’ gaze traveled to the other two men who repeated what Mateo had said with nods of their heads. His lips drew up in a sneer. “Your voices gone?”
“Apologies, doctore,” the two men said.
“Good, answer me.”
“Yes, doctore,” they said.
Satisfied, Cervantes turned and began addressing the gladiators sitting inside the carriage. There was another carriage waiting as well, this one far grander looking than the one the gladiators were riding in, which looked more standard. A simple bench with a canopy. The other carriage was a full cart, double doors, and from what Mateo could see, leather seating and curtains covering the glass windows. The outside of the carriage had intricate designs carved into the wood. Also, the same “R” crest that was engraved over the balcony was also engraved over the doors on the carriage.
It was very pretty, and Mateo knew that one was for their master, Rama. The driver of the carriage waited by the door, and eventually Rama walked out of his home. He didn’t address Mateo or the other men, he only climbed inside of his carriage. The driver closed the door, then walked to the front, taking position and control of the horses’ reins.
Cervantes climbed onto the bench of the other carriage with the gladiators and took control of their horse’s reins. Soon, both carriages headed out, and Mateo and the other two men were forced to keep pace. They jogged, barely keeping up, and struggled not to fall, lest they be dragged, probably to the arena. They only paused in their journey twice so that the men could rest before moving on.
After an hour of travel, their feet bloody, muscles aching, the men exhausted and mentally, emotionally, and spiritually battered, they finally arrived at the arena. Mateo struggled to catch his breath, but as he did, he looked up at the arena, which was positively magnificent in its appearance. Mateo, mouth agape, stared up at the arena in awe. It was the largest structure he had ever seen. Granted, he hadn’t seen much, but what he had seen so far, the arena rivaled all of it. He turned towards the other two men and noticed they were also awestruck by the building.
The arena stood fifteen stories tall and was so wide, it almost looked like a small village to Mateo. The structure was made from marble, stone, and steel, from what he could see, and it was so beautiful with its open windows, carved statues of past gladiators, and the lush greenery that covered some of the walls. He could only imagine what the inside looked like.
He didn’t have long to wonder, as the carriages continued forward toward the gladiators’ entrance of the arena. Rama’s carriage continued on in another direction as theirs stayed on the path. He and the others trotted alongside the carriage Cervantes drove until he stopped once again and disembarked along with the gladiators. Each man climbed out of the carriage, carrying their gear, and stood in a single line. They wore loincloths and sandals, which was different than how they’d all been dressed the night before at the ludus.
Mateo let his eyes wander over the man he was about to face. Haraka stood six-feet-six, a hulking beast with long dread locks that nearly touched his ass. His dark skin was covered in a full body tattoo of tribal markings and other tattoos that Mateo didn’t understand. Some were names, and Mateo wondered if those were the names of Haraka’s victories, his victims.
“Follow me, filth,” Cervantes ordered, and the three prisoners followed behind the doctore, and the gladiators followed behind them, making sure they didn’t try to escape, even though that would have been impossible, as Cervantes held tight to their connected chain. The men were led to one room with stone walls and hooks on the wall.
Another man approached Cervantes; he was tall, muscular, and bald. He wore what looked like a linen robe. His blue eyes looked over the three prisoners. “These your offerings? Sad if so, Cervantes.”
Cervantes shook his head. “Don’t insult, Samson. Not these three, they be filth still needing to prove themselves worthy of the gods in the Trial of Fate. Haraka, Boris, Feilong, Sonder, Osiris, and Titus are our offerings.”
Samson’s gaze left the three prisoners to look upon the hulking gladiators, and he nodded his approval. “Quite worthy of being offerings, especially the Champion.”
“Indeed,” Cervantes agreed.
Samson turned back to the three prisoners. “Who will they face?”
Cervantes gestured toward Haraka. “These three must fight him.”
Samson nodded. “Ahhh, I see. Do you wish to prepare the gladiators?”
“Aye, but I have these to look after.” He nodded his head toward Mateo and the other two men. “I trust you to tend to them.”
Samson nodded. “I will take these gladiators and prepare them, then.”
Cervantes nodded and gesture for the gladiators to follow the other man. “Go.”
