Battleslave

by Elisabeth Wheatley

  The battleslaves spilled into the arena to fanfare and cheers. They broke off into smaller groups, probably those warriors owned by the same proprietor. Talitha gnashed her teeth to see the looseness of their formations, the distance between the warriors. They were weak formations and any trained force could break through them like a badger through a nest of mole rats. These slaves weren’t used to cooperating.

  Talitha surveyed the arena hastily. Iron spikes lined the top, facing inward. They were high as the height of a man and thick as spears, clustered close together in a tighter, layered gauntlet. That wasn’t to keep slaves in—something worse.

  There was no sign of any other enemy within the circus, but gates lined the opposite wall—that must be the menagerie. The sand shuddered under Talitha’s feet.

  An expectant hush fell over the crowd. Dozens of people clamored to be closest against the packed rows of spectators.

  Talitha cursed. Before she had time to turn and face it, a great head burst out of the farthest gate. It struck straight for the nearest cluster of fighters in the arena.

  An overlarge skull hung off an emaciated body. The creature’s ribs showed through leathery hide, its scales clinging to its skeleton. Burn marks scarred its broad snout. The stubs of fangs flashed and it whipped out its tongue, snatching up a battleslave and sucking down the screaming woman.

  “Holy—!” Talitha faced the thing as it whipped in their direction, closing the distance across the arena.

  A duneserpent.

  “Hope you’re as good as they say, Ilian!” Kiri grinned, raising her sword. She laughed in the face of death like it was a shared joke with an old friend. “Don’t worry. Juba tells me most of these slaves are green as you. They’ll go first!”

  Talitha swore in response, Kiri just laughed. Looking back to the serpent, Talitha swore again to find it heading straight for her.

  The thing slithered and whipped around the outside of the arena, feeling its way along, flinching when it bumped into the spikes that rimmed the tops of the walls—so that was what those were for. At first, Talitha thought it must be blind, but its eyes were intact, beady and orange.

  It was the length of five sirrushes standing end to end. Larger serpents had lived, but it was more than large enough to swallow all thirty or so of them and still be starving by the end.

  Scars pockmarked the snake’s body, slashed and buffeted across its hide like a patchwork. The serpent moved too quickly for Talitha to get a good view, but she guessed this thing had been in the arena before—many times. Besides its scars, it knew the shape of the arena too well. It had fought before, and it had won before.

  She looked up to the box with Naram seated in honor at Prothero’s right, but her gaze gravitated to Ashek. Ashek wore the bronze armor of an Ilian now, more well equipped and polished than she had ever seen him. She’d often thought the armor of Ilios would suit him and she was right. It set off the tanned bronze of his skin, hard and curved like the corded lines of muscle through his bared upper shoulders. His red cloak stirred in the breeze behind him. He was a picture of power and wealth in action. Talitha had never seen any man more beautiful.

  Naram had taken everything she loved—either for himself or for Anakti.

  She would see both their heads on pikes before her time was done. She would repay every gentleness, every word, every lie…

  “Ilian!”

  Talitha snapped her attention back to the arena. The serpent barreled straight for her and Kiri.

  Vek dove for Kiri, shoving her to the ground. Talitha jumped in the opposite direction.

  The serpent struck straight for the couple. Massive teeth clamped down, scraping over Vek’s back. Broken fangs grated over armor and the plates crunched. Vek let off a wordless cry that was drowned by the cheering of the crowds.

  The creature grabbed him off the ground, head rearing back. Kiri let off a howl of rage, but the serpent skirted out of reach.

  Talitha dug in her heels and charged. The snake tilted its head back, Vek clenched in its mouth like a flailing rat.

  Talitha stabbed her spear into the thing’s neck. The snake hissed and dropped Vek into the sand with a thud. It lunged for her. Talitha barely rolled out of the way in time to avoid its attack.

  The snake’s teeth slammed down into the sand. Its tail snapped from left to right in fury and it recoiled, diving for Talitha again.

  She rolled, shoulder first, leaping to her feet just as the thing came back around. She twisted to the side, but the snake was moving too fast to stop. Her spear pierced its nostril and the snake snapped backwards, hissing and flicking its tongue. Talitha’s spear lodged in its nose.

  The serpent retreated, slithering back across the arena. Another battleslave was too slow getting out of its way and the thing claimed another victim. Talitha didn’t see who.

  “Vek!” Kiri beat his chest with her fists. “Damn you, Vek!”

  Kiri was beside her lover, lying in the sand with blood pouring from his wounds. The dented armor had crushed in part of his ribs. He coughed up blood, heaving to breathe. If he had punctured a lung, he was done for.

  “Get his armor off,” Talitha ordered.

  “I can’t—”

  She grabbed the girl’s arm. “Do it!” Talitha roared in her face. “Then get him close to the wall. I’ll watch the snake.”

  Shaking, Kiri set to work.

  Across the arena, the snake struck here and there, turning back when battleslaves got lucky and were able to spear it here or there.

  Taking the serpent head on was the problem. It moved too fast. Attacking the sides outright only brought the mouth chomping down. No one could fight the thing head on. Those broken-off fangs were too powerful.

  Talitha took a deep breath, she adjusted her shield and served as guard while Kiri dragged Vek under one of the spikes that lined the edge of the arena. Talitha tossed the shield to Kiri.

  “Stay back and I’ll give that thing something else to worry about.”

  “How can you—?”

  “Shut up and stay down.” Talitha swung around.

  “Just stay alive,” Kiri shouted. “The more it eats, the more it slows. That’s how you win.”

  Talitha’s brow furrowed. The snake snapped up a second warrior, a third. Misshapen ridges bulged along its sides and it still showed no signs of slowing. “That’s not working out so well at the moment.”

  Talitha charged across the sands. She couldn’t help looking up to the pavilion where Prothero sat with Naram—and Ashek.

  The two ensaaks—she hated calling them that—had their heads together speaking. Ashek had his hands folded before him over the top of his sword, watching the fight without any sign of involvement or that he even gave a damn one way or the other. Ashek had probably murdered Gilsazi and Kasrei—along with their child—for the right to stand at Naram’s side.

  “Whore,” Talitha spat. “You sold your loyalty like the bitch you are!” Naturally, he couldn’t hear her.

  Swinging her attention back to the monster in front of her, Talitha slowed. She had no plan.

  A duneworm had its soft spot in its throat. A brusii was just like any other animal, only tougher and stronger. Duneserpents?

  She’d never hunted one, but her grandfather had always told her he and his brothers would kill them by spearing their heads. The serpents weren’t blind, but they hunted at night. Drawn to the heat and sound of their prey, fire still repelled them. According to her grandfather, having a large enough fire could disorient them.

  Talitha smeared an arm over her face and it came away drenched in sweat. Everything was hot. The sun beat down like a hammer.

  Across the arena, the duneserpent snapped and swiveled and struck in a matter of seconds. It would never get into more of a frenzy than it was now. If she wanted it to make a mistake, now would be the time.

  Talitha sprinted to the nearest battleslave—a middle aged man kneeling in the arena with one of his greaves missing, blood gushing from wh
ere the serpent had struck. How had he survive being attacked at all? Talitha grabbed him by the arm. “Get up and head for the south wall build a fire.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get the others and have them help you. Fire repels duneserpents.”

  “Yes,” the old slave agreed. “But it will take more than one of us to build a fire large enough to hide all of us. Unless you want to stand in it. We can’t all survive, you know.”

  “Only one way to find out. They want a show!” Talitha snarled, gesturing to the whole of the arena. “We’ll give them a show and we’ll live to tell of it. Now get on your feet. What have you got to lose?”

  Talitha was a little surprised when the stranger obeyed. He stumbled off in the direction of the north wall. Debris from the last fight still littered the arena, plenty of it wood. It wouldn’t be difficult to find something to burn. Talitha ran to the next person.

  A weathered woman with skin as brown and wrinkled as an old fig clenched a spear in knobby hands while a younger woman—probably her daughter—crouched close by, watching the serpent attack the next group of screaming fighters with rapt attention.

  “If you want to live, join that man and start building a fire,” Talitha ordered, pointing to the middle aged man at the north wall.

  The pair looked her over with the same disdainful sneer—definitely mother and daughter.

  “We’ve survived serpents before,” the older woman rasped, her voice like the croak of a desert grackle. “The trick is to make sure everyone else is eaten first.” She licked her lips for emphasis, grinning.

  Talitha blinked at her. “You think that thing will be slowed down by a few skinny slaves? It’s huge!”

  The woman shrugged. “Just means it will have to eat more of you to be slowed down.”

  Talitha swore.

  “Ma!” the younger woman cried.

  Talitha snapped her head around in time to see the massive snake charging straight for the three of them, mouth wide, broken-off fangs flashing white. The old woman yelled, shoving her daughter out of the way and at Talitha. Cursing every god in her grandfather’s pantheon, Talitha tackled the young woman, rolling her out of the way as the snake’s jaws crunched down on the girl’s mother.

  There was a wet ripping, tearing, and crunching that made Talitha’s whole body cringe. The old woman let off a cry that sent a jolt through Talitha’s chest, more animal than human.

  “Ma!” the girl screamed, diving for the other woman.

  Talitha clamped a hand over her mouth as the snake crushed the old warrior like a rat, gulping her down in seconds. Talitha dragged the young woman backwards, pulling her away from the snake’s head and as close to the side of the serpent’s body as they could possibly be without touching it.

  The great snake gulped down its prey and cocked its head in in a quick swivel.

  Talitha kept her hand clamped tight over the girl’s mouth. “Don’t move,” she hissed into the girl’s ear. “Don’t make a sound.”

  The girl panted, eyes wide over the top of Talitha’s hand, but she didn’t fight.

  Casting a hasty glance to the north of the arena, the injured battleslave she’d sent there was still fiddling with a fire at the foot of the wall. Several spectators pointed and whispered between themselves, but no one else seemed to have noticed. The roar of the crowd filled the air like thunder, rattling the ground. That was probably why the snake was struggling to find its prey.

  The snake flicked out its tongue, then a flicker of motion to the south of the arena caught its eye. It was off the next moment, striking for one of the men at the far side.

  “Ma! No!” the girl struggled in Talitha’s grip, batting and smacking at the other woman’s arm. “Ma!”

  Talitha dragged the girl to her feet. “There will be time to mourn later.”

  “No, she can’t. She—”

  Talitha slapped her and dragged the girl around to face her. “Help me kill it and the rest of us might live. Go that way and get a fire built. It will leave you alone if you stay close enough.”

  Mumbling, the girl stumbled off in the direction of the gate.

  Talitha ran to the next battleslave and the next and the next. One swung his sword at her and earned a fatal wound because for it. Several ignored her, but a handful obeyed and went running to the wall where a fire was being fed with broken bits of chariot, cloth, and debris from the previous events.

  The crowd shifted and pointed excitedly. The guards up top consulted one another. Had this sort of thing never happened? Perhaps no one had bothered to unite the others in the arena before. From the number of fingers pointing at the fire, certainly no one had tried that before.

  The snake hissed and writhed along the side of the arena, avoiding the blaze that had grown into a steady bonfire. Most of the other battleslaves were out of the way and the others who remained were hidden behind rocks and pillars inside the arena.

  Talitha gnawed her lip. The snake circled around the bonfire, giving it a wide berth. Good. Some of the oldest, wiliest wild duneserpents knew campfires as a signal for food, but this captive wretch only knew it as a sign for danger. If the scars on its snout where any indication, torches had been used to control it more than once.

  Talitha crouched low in the arena, thinking. She needed to take the thing from either above, below, or the side. As the snake wove back and forth, snapping left and right and left again with the speed of a much smaller reptile, she decided sneaking up on it wouldn’t be an option.

  Not moving, she waited. The crowd had reached a fever pitch of cheering, but it began to settle. Sick, silent anticipation settled over the vast arena. It went quiet, or perhaps Talitha had just gone deaf.

  The snake wove back and forth, tongue flicking out. Head snapping this way and that. Talitha stroked her thumb along the shaft of her spear.

  She would need to come up with an answer and soon. At her back, the traitors and usurpers were comfortable and safe in the pavilion while she fought for her life. If she couldn’t fight for her own survival, she could at least fight for their deaths.

  Talitha looked up to realize the snake’s attention was fixed on her. Beady, soulless eyes angled in her direction, tongue flicking out experimentally.

  The snake was only a hundred or so paces off, but more than close enough to strike.

  Talitha didn’t move, heart pumping faster, spreading hot blood through her body, making her all the more visible to the serpent.

  She could run. She could stay put. Either way, she was taking a chance.

  The snake’s body coiled under it while the serpent’s head stayed arched at a vicious angle.

  It moved. She had no choice.

  Talitha flipped sideways just as the snake’s broken fangs crashed into the sand. Rolling to her feet, she ran.

  It took a moment for the snake to recover, but when it did, it hissed and charged with a fury to compensate.

  She’d intended to drive the snake toward the main pavilion with the help of the others. Now she was being chased straight toward the ensaaks’ booth, exactly where she wanted to go, but alone with only a spear.

  Swearing, Talitha ran in a straight line. There was no advantage to be gained by weaving, the serpent could do that just as well. Talitha ran, arms pumping at her sides and heart pounding.

  She ran with a strength and speed she hadn’t know was in her, tearing across the length of the arena with the duneserpent snapping and striking at her heels.

  Talitha set off in a dead run for the wall, not slowing even a second. The duneserpent charged after her, rushing straight for the wall. The painted women and bedazzled courtiers murmured and a few screamed, but the ensaaks and Ashek watched in silent contemplation as the snake chased its quarry straight for their box.

  They must know as well as Talitha that the spikes around the edge were too high for the snake to climb. If Talitha didn’t slow down soon, she would hit the wall—but she had nothing left to lose.

 
With a growl of determination, Talitha barreled for the wall. She pivoted at the last possible second, slamming backward and bracing her spear against the bottom of the wall.

  The snake chased, furious, agitated, and angrier than ever. The crowd began to roar, only making the thing angrier. The snake reared its neck to strike and a hiss was all the warning she had before it struck.

  The creature’s maw opened and Talitha saw all four of the broken-off fangs and the gigantic pink gullet diving straight for her. She let off a wild yell and curled herself into the tightest ball possible, arms wrapped around her spear, head tucked down.

  The snake’s mouth descended, and jerked to a stop. Talitha jolted as the spear shaft cracked near her ear. The snake’s jaw snapped open wider and she had a brief view of her spearhead, buried to the wooden shaft in the top of the creature’s mouth.

  Saliva splattered her as it hissed, forked tongue flailing. Hissing, the duneserpent yanked backwards. It’s entire body writhed and reeled, knotting and flailing and convulsing. The snake slammed sideways and Talitha ducked, barely clearing its path as it struck the wall. Stones and bits of masonry broke free on impact, the spike shoved several inches farther into the wall.

  She jogged out of its path, backing away cautiously. Out of breath, Talitha could hardly believe what she was seeing. The serpent had impaled itself. That had been her plan, but she realized she hadn’t expected it to work.

  The snake’s sinuous body snapped, coiled, and snapped again, each time slower than the last. Finally, the serpent went still.

  The crowd broke into wild cheers and across the arena, the surviving battleslaves joined in.

  Shaking, Talitha took in the corpse. She’d killed it. She couldn’t believe she’d killed it.

  “Talitha!”

  She snapped her head around, startled.

  It was Ashek, watching from the stands. From this distance, she couldn’t quite make out his expression, but he was watching.

  Naram jutted a finger in her direction and the two of them exchanged hasty words while Prothero argued with a nearby courtier, gesturing to the dead snake.

  Talitha swallowed and didn’t look away.