Arena Shifters (A Paranormal Romance Novel) (10 page)

Petronia

* * *

The last few days had been
hell for the slave who saved the House of Tiberius. She really had believed she
would be spared. Thanks to her alone, they survived. She had gone straight to
the Dominus and told of the rebellion. Following her story Dominus and Doctore
had extracted a confession out of the slave girl they had recaptured. It had
been gruesome. It had taken them almost an entire day and only after they had
cut off six fingers and had her skin flayed from her back had she finally
confessed. Together with what Petronia had told them of the plot, and from what
they learned from torture, they were able to put a hasty plan into place. Even
with foreknowledge of the rebellion it had not gone well; but their lives had
been saved, all thanks to the loyalty of one slave named Petronia.

And now Petronia lay at the
end of a long line of slaves chained together and waiting their execution in
the Arena. At least she had the comfort of her longtime friend and fellow slave
Albinia. The older woman was the only reason she had retained even a shred of
her sanity while living in bondage. The woman was like a mother to her; or an
older sister, and now they were to die together.

“I’m so sorry Albinia.”

“What are you sorry for? I
have had a good life; at least for a slave. I have no complaints. It’ll be a
quick ending for those of us who are not gladiators. I won’t feel a thing.”

“I really thought I could
save us both. That’s why I did it.”

She looked at her young
friend quizzically. “For me? Don’t you mean for the Young Master?”

“What?”

“He would have surely died
had the rebellion been successful. I’m telling you, befriending the Dominus’
son will do you no good. Now you’re about to die in front of him. I say, you
should have escaped when the slaves attacked your caravan. But no, you get this
wild scheme to save him and somehow be set free…What did you expect from that,
his hand in marriage?”

“Gross!  He’s just a kid.”

“A kid who’s not much younger
than you, and clearly he’s quite taken with you.” She laughed out loud at the
craziness of the suggestion.

“He’s a kid who is what, 12?
I just feel for the kid. He’s not like his father. He’ll never be a slave
owner.”

Albinia laughed bitterly.
He’s a Roman citizen. He’ll be a slave owner.”

“He won’t, you’ll see.”

Albinia laughed again. “No I
won’t, I’ll be dead and so will you, so forget about him.”

Petronia was about to try a
new argument when the soldiers came to get them. I guess it’s finally over, she
thought as the guards began taking them out of the cell. Then a strange thing
happened. They were about to take her out when one of the guards stopped her,
unlocking her from the string of irons and shoved her back into the cell. Did
they have some spectacle reserved for her? Maybe she was going to have to go
out and fight against her fellow gladiators instead of with them.

“Petronia!” She looked up. It
was Albinia. She reached back with one hand grasping hers. “Be strong my love,
be strong!”

Petronia’s voice caught in
her throat and all she could manage to do was croak out a single word.

“Bye…”

* * *

Part Three

* * *

For what seemed like hours
upon endless hours, Petronia’s ears were filled with the roar of the crowd,
interspersed with the clash of metal up metal, searing screams of pain, and the
roars of defiance from dying gladiators and slaves alike. She wondered which of
the cries of pain, or screams of defiance belonged to her friend. And she
wondered what kind of spectacle was going to be made of her when it was her
turn. Obviously she was being saved for the Primus, the grand finale. She hoped
she would make a good showing of herself. For years now she had trained to
fight and die. She had been taught that the highest glory a gladiator could
receive was death in the Arena at the hands of another gladiator. She had been
prepared for death from a young age, but she couldn’t help but wonder, when she
was at death’s door, would she be brave, or plead for her life? No…she was
better than that. She would give them a fight and an honorable death. Glory
awaited.

Strangely, as she sat there
in her cell, the floor covered with the blood and filth from a hundred
gladiators before her, she thought of Lucius and the two…three days they’d
spent hiding from their pursuers. At first he didn’t talk at all. It wasn’t
like he was in shock or something. He was a Roman citizen after all. He had grown
up watching the gods of the Arena hacking each other in bloody matches to the
death. No, he was no stranger to violence and death.

Then he began to talk to her.
In some respects he was his father’s son, and in completely different ways, he
was his own man…well not yet. But he had his own ideas of right and wrong. His
moral compass swung in a completely different direction than that of his
father. She really did believe he did not want to be a Dominus. Of course the
reality of his world, and the economy of having a Villa with a Ludis, he would
probably follow in his father’s footsteps. He would have to. But where he
father was cruel, a man governed by the lusts of his flesh, he son would not
be; or so she believed.

Now his older brother, he’d
been a different sort. He was cruel and cunning. He would govern the Ludis with
an iron fist and he would love grinding his thumb on other people’s lives. He
was getting to be the age where he wanted to run things. He fought constantly
with his father over why he did the things he did. It was easy to see why
Lucius hated his brother and never mourned his untimely death. The House of
Tiberius would be a different place with Lucius at the head of it.

A sudden and thunderous
applause startled Petronia out of her reverie. The applause continued for some
time then suddenly there was quiet. Someone, probably the Praetor was talking,
but she couldn’t hear what was being said. With no sun down under the Arena it
was impossible to tell if it was time for the Primus or not. Suddenly the crowd
began their applause again. Clearly they were happy about something.

They were still carrying on
when a soldier came to get Petronia.

I guess this is it, she
thought to herself. The soldier led her down the long corridor to the gate. As
she passed the staging area she tried not to look but she had too. This was
where the bodies of the dead were collected to be cut up and disposed of. She
didn’t want to look, but she had to. As soon as she did she regretted it. She
didn’t see Albinia, but what she saw was bad enough. All those brave
gladiators, those men who died with honor and glory, they were just pieces of
meat now. Bloody chunks of meat lying in a bloody trough underneath the
stadium. Where was the honor and glory in that? And in a few minutes, that’s
where she would be. Suddenly she vomited. She couldn’t help it. She just
vomited, narrowly missing hitting the guard in front of her.

When they opened the gate and
led her out into the middle of the Arena she thought her eyes were playing
tricks on her. There standing in the middle of the Arena was her friend
Albinia. She was bloody, but standing on her own two feet with a sword in one
hand and a dagger in the other. Lying at her feet was a gladiator, very
obviously dead. How she could have done that Petronia had no idea, but there
she was the victor.

Up in the Pulvinus the
Praetor was speaking but for some reason his words failed to reach her ears,
but the message was clear enough. Slay your best friend and you get to keep
your miserable life. Fail to take her life, and someone else kills you both.
From Albinia’s expression it was obvious she understand what was at stake here.

Kill or be killed. Well
that’s not going to happen Petronia thought to herself. I’ll never kill my best
friend. She looked back at the Praetor just as he gave the signal for the
contest to begin. She turned back to face her friend.

Albinia looked at her with
compassionate eyes and mouthed the words “I love you.”

Then she reversed her gladius
so that the point was resting against her throat and Petronia screamed.

“No!”

* * * * *

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

Blood Sisters

* * * * *

Petronia
stood there in shock, staring at her only friend in the whole world, Albinia.
The Praetor was speaking from the Pulvinus but she couldn’t hear a word despite
the prolonged silence from the normally rowdy crowd. It was almost like her
brain refused to let the words in. She didn’t have to hear them to know what
was being said. It was obvious Albinia understood what was happening perfectly
well and that was the reason for her unthinkable actions.

It
was like one of those dreams where everyone could move but you. Like when she
was a little girl and used to dream about some creatures chasing her. It was
like her legs were stuck in molasses and the tiger that was chasing her could
run perfectly well.

The
bloody sands of the Arena was her molasses, and Albinia the tiger. She was
moving fast and Petronia was in slow motion. She had to just watch as her
childhood friend reversed her gladius and put the razor sharp tip to her
throat. Petronia opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. She lunged
forward to grab the blade but she couldn’t get her body in forward motion.

The
moment the spray of blood hit her face she suddenly became mobilized. The
scream that was caught in her throat was ripped from her vocal chords and her
cry of anguish rose above the Arena. The wind carried it out over the city of
Savona and up into the clouds where it was returned to her like rain. The
people in the arena that had been sweltering in the mid- day heat opened their
mouths but it came with an ashy bitter taste that did nothing to quench their
thirst.