Lycan Gladiator (Wolf Maiden Saga)

by Gordon, Eva

  He signaled for the dwarf, Varus, Ulric’s arena assistant. Varus approached, his head lowered. “At your service, master.” He turned and bowed to Cassia.

  Cassia gathered her long stola and followed Varus to the hypogeum, the vast underground tunnels where Ulric waited to be released into the arena to face some horrific beast. The rumors of a giant from the northern lands of ice were rampant and the betting on who would win ongoing. She draped her veil over her face as they passed gladiators awaiting their turn to face death. A few men made obscene gestures as she walked by. Fortunately for them, Ulric was not kept with the other gladiators.

  She gasped as she peered into a chamber where dead gladiators were stripped of their weapons. Their clawed bodies were torn and wet with blood. Had they just fought lions or tigers? The stench of body waste mixed with blood and guts caused bile to flood her throat. She pressed a hand over her mouth.

  Varus gently tugged on her wrist. “The spoliarium was not meant for such a lovely lady to view its horrors. This way.”

  She nodded and quickened her pace. They passed a long line of cages. Not just predators such as lions and bears but animals not meant for fighting such as ostriches, giraffes, and tall, elegant looking antelopes. “Varus, do you know what Ulric will be facing?”

  He shook his head, “I tried finding out, but it’s a well guarded secret. All I know is that the Emperor claims this man from the north is undefeated.”

  “A man?”

  “Dear lady, I doubt it will be just any man. Perhaps a sorcerer or a giant from the depths of Hades.”

  They arrived at Ulric’s locked chamber and she held her breath. Varus jingled his keys and opened it. In the corner stood Ulric, a cornered stag—big, beautiful, and dangerous. She stepped in, hoping she no longer carried Macula’s stench.

  He drew her in and pressed her breasts against his bare chest. “Cassia, my beloved, Cassia.” She shuddered at the feel of his solid warmth and the sound of his heart’s love.

  Varus slipped out and closed the door. She gazed up at him and her remorse unleashed. “Ulric, forgive me.” She lowered her head. “I allowed Macula to enslave me.”

  He lifted her chin and she met his gaze. “Do not worry. Our goddess will guide us to freedom.”

  She battled back tears. “One hopes.”

  With his thumb, he gently wiped a tear. “Lucius vowed to help us and my pack is ready to make our escape on my orders.”

  To think Lucius was a mystic, despite his parents.

  He sniffed her hair and then moved down to the hollow of her throat, inhaling her as if she were a blooming, succulent flower. “You must have washed in a garden pool; there is no trace of Macula’s foul piss.”

  She quipped, “The lycans are overwhelmed with my new scent.” She smiled in triumph, “I also cleaned my chambers with acetum.”

  He sniffed and smiled. “I’m well aware.” His tone turned serious, “Macula must never find out you are a wolf maiden.”

  She spat out, “I will take poison if he does.”

  He gripped her arms tight. His tone, gruff and sharp, “You will do no such thing!”

  Shamed, she twisted her face away. To kill oneself was the ultimate sin. Feronia forbid it. Her soul would forever roam on this earthly plane. Yet this was what Gauis had chosen. “What if he takes me as his mate?”

  “I will not allow it. Just promise me not to take your life, because I would join you as well and we would forever be parted.”

  She pressed her lips together and nodded, “I promise.”

  “Is there some salve you can use to cover your wolf mark?”

  Her brow furrowed, “I will try to come up with something.” She sighed and twisted a smile, pointing her index finger up, “Remember one touch and I can have him fall asleep like a babe.”

  He smiled back. “Then don’t give him reason to bind your hands.”

  Varus knocked on the door. “Cassia, we must return.”

  Ulric opened the door. “The physician has not had a chance to make sure I’m well enough to fight.”

  Varus glanced at Ulric’s skirt and what bulged from beneath. His low voice teased, “Well enough I see.”

  Ulric pushed the door halfway closed. He took her face in his two calloused hands and kissed her hard and fierce with a need that made her want to scream with her own desire to feel him inside her. He released her swollen lips and grinned, “Stay out of trouble.”

  “Just stay alive so you can make sure I do.”

  Varus interrupted, “Ulric, I have news.” He bent down to listen to what must be advice about his new opponent.

  Acca found her. “Come, I’ll escort you back to the imperial box. Macula wants to introduce you to Emperor Domitian.”

  She wanted to scream, NO! Instead, she bowed a nod. As she left, she half turned. Worry flashed in Ulric’s eyes.

  The battle drums matched her beating heart. She had seen Domitian from afar during a parade. He had sat on his fine golden chariot but had not been close enough to touch. Now she would be too close. She patted her dagger beneath her stola. Thoughts of saving not only her ancestral brethren but all oppressed Romans tempted her to stab him with a plunge to his heart. How many had attempted to assassinate the brutal tyrant? A sacrifice that would cost her life. If Ulric died, she would carry out the deed with determined vengeance.

  The imperial box was an elegant chamber complete with comfortable couches and enough food for a grand banquet. The tall Emperor sat on a purple silk cushioned chair with a matching footstool where he rested grotesquely gnarled, swollen feet. On his head he wore a blond wig crowned with a golden leaf wreath. His fine purple and gold toga did not hide his soft plump body; his flabby arms were absent of muscle tone. The body of a man that had not fought as other emperors had. His swollen face added to his sickly look. Behind him a boy massaged his shoulders.

  Excitement and the throng’s roars grew. In the arena giraffes, zebras, and one monstrous rhinoceros were released. Archers marched in and readied their bows for the slaughter to come.

  Macula stood and took her hand. “My lord, let me introduce the physician I just acquired.”

  Domitian gazed at her with scrutinizing eyes. “The slave of the traitorous Gaius.”

  Did she have enough time to pull her dagger?

  Macula laughed, “An unwilling slave. She is more than happy to serve our kind.” From behind him, Floretta shot her daggered eyes.

  The emperor waved her over. “Come.”

  She stepped before him and bowed. If she took her dagger to his throat, the din of the crowd would muffle his shouts. No. She promised Ulric to stay out of trouble. “My Lord.”

  “Address me as Germanicus, conqueror of the Chattians.” He gripped her hand and looked at the scar on her palm near her thumb. He displayed his. “We share the same blood bond.”

  The emperor’s hold felt soft. His loose jowls exposed a squashy throat. An easy man to kill with a swift slice of the knife. The temptation to end his life overwhelmed her. Instead she thought of Ulric and staved her dark notions.

  Domitian leaned in and spoke in her ear, “Macula tells me you can make a tonic to restore my hair.”

  The crowd cheered as arrows whistled and hit the helpless targets. Thank Feronia the raucous shouts prevented her from hearing the terrified, dying cries of the animals. She answered him in a loud voice, “My skills are in surgery, but I’m well versed in making curative salves.”

  He nodded. Distracted by the slaughter of the animals, he shoved her away as if she had changed from an exotic flower to an annoying fly. He stood and smiled. The crowd understood and quieted. Below were the poor creatures, perhaps one hundred now dead or worse, suffering. Once vibrant, a gift of the Earth, now nothing but carcasses riddled with hundreds of arrows. She tried not to cry in disgust on seeing a baby giraffe lying on top of its mother. The rhinoceros looked more like a porcupine with javelins piercing its thick hide as it lay mercifully dead. Near it lay a dead man still gripp
ing his spear.

  Emperor Domitian raised his arms. “Tonight our gladiators will feast on the sweet flesh of exotic animals.” The crowd cheered and Domitian seemed to draw energy from their approval and sighed deeply.

  ***

  Ulric, wearing only his tunic skirt, sauntered into the arena. Weaponless, without helmet or even arm guards. He glanced up at the awning-covered seats. Cassia stood next to Floretta. His beloved’s beautiful face, drawn with worry, her eyes pleading in silent prayer that he might live. No, Cassia, it is you who must live. The danger to her life was imminent. Would Floretta disobey Macula and stab her with a poisoned hairpin?

  The throng chanted, “Ulric, Ulric, Ulric!” The stadium shook from the din of their shouts. The gates opened and the crowd hushed in anticipatory silence. He turned and shaded his eyes from the noon sun’s glare.

  Oxen pulled a wagon carrying a large metal cage into the arena. Inside loomed a giant of a man with flaxen hair. A man so dangerous they brought him in like a caged tiger. Slaves ran in and hauled the massive cell down a ramp. They hastily led the oxen away to the safety beyond the gates. Ulric had fought many human gladiators, but none had lasted more than one bout. He always gave human fighters a chance to combat and once wounded he let the audience decide their fate. Beasts he fought were killed as mercifully and quickly as possible. Killing the large predators prevented the starving creatures from eating alive, conquered people, including women and children.

  The man in the cage smelled more like a bear than human. Ulric had vague memories of his father telling him how the wolfen chased bear men to the north. Had the Romans gone far enough north to capture such a shape shifter? The man gripped the bars of the cage and shook them. He voiced a deafening roar.

  The announcer shouted. “From the land of ice and snow from the farthest reaches of the earth, we bring you Ursus the Slayer.” On his signal, the rigged trap door opened and out stepped the giant. A good two heads taller than him. A creature from the nightmares of Wodan. Like Ulric, weaponless. Still, not a fair fight. A bear against a wolf. He glanced at Domitian smirking down at him as if in anticipation of Ulric’s defeat. Macula at his side did not look as pleased. He would lose a lot of coin on Ulric.

  The giant sniffed the air and glowered at Ulric. But not for long. He turned to the audience and bellowed a furious bear-like growl. His hatred of the Romans appeared greater than his hatred of the gladiator he was set to fight.

  Ulric growled a challenge, “Fight me, son of a sow!” He glanced for a nearby javelin or sword. Anything he could use as a weapon. One leap over the barrier and Ulric could grab a gladius to fight his bigger foe.

  The crowd jeered. “Let him fight a beast not a stupid man!” Rotting fruits and vegetables were thrown at the giant. Those fools thought his opponent was but a man.

  A pomegranate hit Ursus in the head and he roared in rage. He ripped off his furs and shook a fist at the emperor. He fell on his knees and fur sprang on his back. He roared in pain as he shifted. Unlike lycans, it appeared bear men were not gifted with a painless transformation. Loud popping joint dislocations and bone cracking made the audience gasp into silence. The face and head contorted as the giant groaned in writhing agony. In moments where once was a man stood a colossal bear with a huge hump, three times the size of an average woodland bear. Its fur golden blond, similar to his flaxen human hair. It stood on its hind legs and snarled at the spectators, his fangs long, yellow, and dripping with drool.

  Ulric studied his opponent for any weaknesses, a sore foot, an old wound—anything to allow him an advantage. He flared his nostrils and honed in on a spear wound below his ribcage. He also detected high doses of a poppy seed mixture, not meant to stop the pain but to make it calm, controllable. Explains how the Romans captured him. Suddenly the bear in lumbering speed crashed against a barrier. His heavy claws raked at spectators seated in the first row. A man fell and crawled away. The bear lifted the screaming man, mauled him to shreds and then dropped him in a bloodied heap. Chaos ensued as people trampled others to scramble away from the fierce gladius sized claws. The beast chomped a shrieking man between his jaws and squeezed his head into pulp before climbing up toward his goal—the imperial box.

  Ulric growled. Cassia! He shifted and raced to protect his mate.

  Emperor Domitian ordered his guards to kill it then fled flanked by his guards. Macula did not shift, not even with his emperor in danger.

  Macula drew his sword and pushed his wife and Cassia to the back. In the fray either intentionally or not, Floretta shoved Cassia down. His beloved bounced up in a fighting stance with her small dagger as if she thought she could defend herself from such a monster.

  The guards drew their swords to stop it from reaching the emperor. The beast disemboweled and decapitated them.

  Ulric leapt on the bear’s back as it mauled people in its path. Ulric sank his fangs into the bear’s neck and it roared. It spun and swiped at the wolf riding him. He released the bear with a chunk of bear flesh in his mouth. Growling and shaking the bear flesh, Ulric lured him back down to the arena. The maddened bear charged him. Its weight made the bear lose its balance and it landed with a thud. Wounded it stood and in high pitched fury roared at Ulric, its jowls spilling slobber, hungry to slay him. Ulric danced around him, using the advantage of his speed. He nipped the bear’s rump and it spun on all fours. It roared and pawed the ground, then stood and swiped its deadly claws at him.

  Ulric ran. Too close!

  The bear pounded toward him.

  The spectators shouted encouragement. “Ulric, wolf god, kill the beast!”

  Ulric wished he could have reasoned with the bear to combat their common enemy, Rome, the real beast.

  He dashed to the left and the bear ran by him. Now, it’s my turn. He snarled and attacked. His fangs sank into its thigh and hamstringed the bear, but as he turned to run the bear struck him. Ulric hurled in the air and landed with a thud. He lay on the ground and whimpered. His side ripped, exposing his flesh to his ribcage. The bear limped toward him, bellowing revenge.

  He tried to stand but the pain crippled him. A voice called to him. Cassia. “Ulric, use this and get up!” She tossed him a gladius within his reach. He crawled to it as the thundering bear drew nearer. He gripped the hilt in his jaws, rolled and sprang from the path of the monster. It whirled around making a sand cloud. Ulric leapt at the massive beast and with the gladius sliced its throat. Blood spurted out like a fountain dedicated to Mars and the big bear fell with a thunderous thud, lifting the sand like a sandstorm. Ulric returned with the gladius still in his grip and buried it deep into the bear’s neck. It opened its jaws once and then shut them forever.

  The throng went wild. Shouts of how he had saved the Emperor rang out everywhere, Hero of Rome and other fickle adorations.

  He wobbled away from the bear carcass and fell on his side. He shifted back to his human form and pressed his hand against his bleeding chest. The world above him blurred. His vision cleared as he caught Cassia’s sweet scent. He needed to see his beloved one last time.

  Cassia knelt and placed her palla over his gaping wound. She held his hand and hummed. Healing him.

  He lifted his head and rasped, “Cassia, no, not here.” A warm tingle coursed through him. He sighed.

  Cassia leaned in, close enough for him to reach her lips and whispered, “Don’t move, beloved. We will carry you back for treatment.”

  Litter bearers ran in and carried him out. He gazed at her as she walked beside him.

  Chapter 18

  Cassia entered the infirmary. Ulric inhaled deeply and a smile brightened his face as he sat up. She smiled, “I have not given you permission to stand. Lie down while I examine you.”

  He returned her smile, “Yes, my domina.” He lay down with his arms folded behind his head.

  She fingered the stitched, nearly healed wound. “Lycan blood is an amazing thing.”

  His breath hitched and he gripped her wrist, “Beloved, it will
not be long.”

  “Ulric, keep your voice down.” She looked around furtively, paranoid about Nox. During the first days of his recovery, Floretta had visited and left Nox to guard him.

  “We are alone.” He pulled her in and ravished her mouth She moaned as his smoldering kiss awakened her trapped heart. Like two lost souls reunited. He, the sun. She, the moon. They had not dared kiss since before the last Bestiari game. They had made love only that one night, and she had ached for him since.

  He released her and kissed the hollow of her throat, his voice husky, “I will die if I cannot have you soon.”

  He held her in his strong arms and his heat ignited passions hidden far too long. “Patience, my beloved.”

  They planned to escape during the next full moon. Freedom or death, their sacred motto. Ulric had convinced her they could no longer wait. Not just for her safety but to warn the Lupercal of Macula’s nefarious goal. Once Domitian was deposed, Macula would seize the imperial crown and command the Roman army to destroy the Lupercal.

  A few days before the next full moon, under the pretense of gathering supplies, Cassia would leave and meet with his friend Varus. He would provide her with a horse for a quick escape to Etruria.

  Voices drew near and he let go of her. “Tell me you will be careful.”

  She brushed her lips against his forehead, “I promise.”

  Within moments Floretta, her entourage of slaves, and Nox walked in. “Cassia!”

  The haughty wolf maiden’s scream snapped like a whip and she flinched from the sting. She bent her head low. “Yes, domina?”

  Floretta’s tone still scathing, “I thought you were with Lucius?”

  “I was.” From the corner of her eye, Ulric’s wolf aura darkened. No, please, Ulric, not now. She met Floretta’s eyes and raised her voice in enthusiasm, “He can now put full weight on his left leg. On my way back I thought I would check on Ulric.”

  Ulric stood and beamed a false smile, “Floretta, you are wearing my favorite color, red. A pretty rose must not let thorns take away from its beauty.”