Page 13 of Dominion
CHAPTER SIX
Eloy leaned forward as he watched the fight wage on. At first, he wasn’t too impressed with the three men who’d entered the arena, granted, one did catch his eye. The prettiest of the lot, but he knew he’d be dead in a matter of seconds once the real gladiator joined the party. Never did he expect to see such vigor in the young man who, even injured, was fighting with so much passion. He wanted to live, and watching the boy struggle against a man who was his better thrilled Eloy.
“Does the god, Eloy, see something he likes?” Odessa asked him.
“Possibly,” was Eloy’s one word response as his eyes remained glued to the pretty young one whose body looked like it wanted to give up, but his heart and mind wouldn’t let it.
“They should both surrender and let the gladiator take them. It would be a more merciful death,” Simeon said.
“Giving up is not in this boy’s future,” Eloy said. “Besides, what is the fun in that?”
“He’ll die, it’s only a matter of time,” Kijani grumbled. He frowned as he watched the humans battle it out. Again, he cut a glance over to Eloy and his frown deepened as he watched his fellow god be transfixed by the one human on the sands. He wanted the boy to die if only to take Eloy’s attention away from him.
Eloy gripped the armrest of his throne as Mateo was slashed across his chest by Haraka’s blade. The boy’s blood flowed from the wound as he fell down to one knee. He bit his bottom lip as Mateo rolled out of the way just as Haraka brought his sword down. The other prisoner charged toward the gladiator, his blade held high above head.
Eloy saw the error in attacking this way, and it came to fruition when Haraka blocked the man’s sword with his shield and ran the man through his chest with his sword. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers with two men dead and one to go.
Haraka pulled his blade from Jorome’s corpse and turned all of his attention on Mateo. Though he had dominated the fight, he hadn’t remained unscathed, as the three prisoners managed to cut and slice him on both arms, legs, and on his chest. The wounds ranged from shallow to deep, requiring stitches. He stalked over to Mateo who was scooting back, trying to regroup. His sword dripped with the blood and flesh of his victims and he smiled behind the mask as he drew closer to his last.
Eloy’s heart pounded in his chest as he saw the desperation to survive in Mateo’s eyes. It was a look he’d become accustomed to seeing in many eyes, but there was something about the boy’s fight for life that spoke to him. The sand was covered in puddles of blood from the four men in the arena and still the crowd screamed for more. And their fervor fed into Eloy’s own bloodlust, only he wanted the boy to win.
Mateo managed to climb to his feet, his body weakened from lack of nutrition and blood at this point. This would be his final stand, he would not die on his feet cowering. Haraka blocked his sword with his shield and thrust forward, causing him to fall back, his body hitting the sand hard. He grunted in pain and rolled away from the threat that thirsted for his life. Haraka was on him again, not giving him a chance to get his bearings before he brought the blade down once more.
Mateo blocked it with his sword, but then Haraka kicked his bleeding wound, causing Mateo to double over in excruciating pain. Standing over him, Haraka raised his blade and brought it down to deliver the final blow. Mateo’s eyes widened, his heart thundered in his chest, and his breathing ceased as he saw his death approaching.
“Stop!” Eloy commanded, the power in his voice silencing the crowd and stilling Haraka’s hand, stopping the blade inches from Mateo’s throat.
Odessa chuckled. “It would seem that the god, Eloy, has eyes for the human,” she teased.
“Why bother? Let him die, he isn’t worthy,” Kijani complained, the frown on his face deepening.
“Will you give him your blessing?” Simeon asked Eloy. The fact that his fellow god had interceded had him quite intrigued, as it was a first.
Eloy ignored the chatter from the other gods and raised his hand, officially halting the match. Haraka lowered his weapon and bowed his head, then took a few steps away from Mateo, who was looking around in a state of confusion.
“This one outlasted the others who were not worthy, and he fought bravely. I will see him on these sands again, as a trained gladiator,” Eloy said, then lowered his hand to the cheer of the crowd.
“Ahh, so the god, Eloy, grants this human his favor. This one does not wonder why as she can see the lust in the god, Eloy’s, eyes when he looks at that battered human,” Odessa crooned, grinning.
“He has earned the privilege to fight again, is all,” Eloy said as he settled back into his throne. His eyes didn’t leave Mateo as the young man struggled to rise to his feet with Haraka’s help. The two walked off the sands as the crowd cheered.
“Should have let him die,” Kijani grumbled. “The wretch didn’t even give you gratitude for sparing his pathetic life. That alone warrants his death.”
“Mercy is always a thing we should grant,” Simeon countered.
“Bah!” Kijani scoffed and waved his hand dismissively at Simeon, who only gave him a knowing smirk.
“Besides, he was so wounded. When he is healed, if he survives his injuries, I’m sure he’ll show his gratitude,” Simeon added.
Kijani turned his gaze from Simeon to Eloy, and his eyes narrowed as he speculated the real reason why Eloy wanted to spare the human. It sickened him, Eloy’s rampant desires to bed these humans when none of them were worthy to touch the flesh of a god, in his opinion.
“I look forward to more matches,” Eloy said, then gestured for the announcer to continue the day’s events. As far as he was concerned, the gladiatorial matches started off with such promise.
Mateo’s body burned like fire where he’d been sliced and stabbed. He could barely walk and leaned all of his weight on Haraka, who was talking to him as they both limped back to Cervantes.
“You are very fortunate that a god blessed you. Even I do not know why,” Haraka said. “I doubt you survive the training it takes to be a gladiator, but remember this day.”
Mateo heard the words spoken to him, but couldn’t really concentrate on their meaning as he was still reeling from having lasted the battle. Granted, it was not on his own skill, for he had none, and Haraka proved that in the arena. He was surprised he had endured as long as he had and he knew part of that was because of the other two men he’d fought with. The other part was because he didn’t want to die.
