Dragon Call (The Throne of the Dragon Queen Book 2)

by Clare Smith

  “Spend a year in the arena and you’ll change your mind.” whispered the former gladiator, but he still didn’t move. “If you really want to die that badly fuck the next one and don’t hold back. It’ll get you a knife where it hurts most but it’ll all be over in minutes.”

  “Cacaphia wouldn’t do that, I’m worth too much to her.”

  The man made a low rumbling sound which if he’d been able to talk above a whisper would have been cynical laughter. “Danem was a champion, but she cut him herself in front of us all when he went too far. She’d do you too without a single regret if it took her fancy.”

  His obvious lack of value should have made him feel worse, but it didn’t. Somehow it made him determined to show he was better than just a game piece. He stood up straighter, pushed his shoulders back and stared straight ahead of him. Whilst they had been whispering to each other, the last man had finished and the women were standing in a circle, drinking wine and eating sweetmeats which the slaves had brought for them. He took the opportunity to look down the line of men and could tell by the look on their faces that the evening wasn’t over yet.

  When the goblets and the platters had been removed, the choosing ceremony was repeated and this time the hostess held up a green ball and pointed at him. He was certain that wasn’t the one she had taken out of the sack, and by the look on Cacaphia’s face she thought so too, but could do nothing about it, so Shea came to fetch him.

  “If you want to die now’s your chance,” whispered the gladiator as he was led away.

  It was but for now he’d decided he’d rather live than die unpleasantly. He stepped up beside Cacaphia who took the leash from Shea and leaned in close to him as she unclipped it from his collar. “If you wish to remain a man, you will stop and withdraw when I tell you, no matter what the bitch does to you.”

  She stepped back and left him to it, but the mound of flesh which lay on the bed with her legs wide apart was making it difficult to concentrate on what he was meant to be doing. As he hesitated, he could hear Cacaphia hiss angrily so he climbed onto the woman and hoped something would happen. He needn’t have worried, the hostess wasn’t like his mistress. Instead of just lying there she gyrated beneath him, thrusting her hips forwards so that within seconds he was as hard as he could be, and his climax was building fast despite his efforts to hold himself back.

  Behind him he heard Cacaphia shout for him to withdraw, but when he tried he understood what his mistress had meant as the woman held him fast. When he looked up and saw the satisfaction on the hostess’s face he knew that she had won her bet and there was nothing he could do to stop himself. He thrust once again feeling his climax come with a rush but at the final moment, when there was no holding back, a sudden sensation of ice water being poured over him made him shudder. There was a scream behind him, a fleeting glimpse of flickering lamplight and undressed stone and then blackness.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Northman’s Ship

  Rome and the Southern Sea

  Banniff opened his eyes to darkness and wondered where he was and how he’d arrived there. He could remember everything right up to the moment someone had thrown ice cold water over him, and after that everything was a blank. That wasn’t quite true though as he remembered someone screaming and guessed that had to be his mistress. Perhaps she had thrown the water over him so she wouldn’t lose the large amount of gold she’d wagered on him.

  Even as he considered that, he knew it wasn’t really a possibility, as the only water in the atrium had been in the pool and that would have been warm, not ice cold. Another thought struck him, but it wasn’t a happy one. Could the sensation of being doused with freezing water be some sort of reaction to the unnatural way he’d been holding himself back and he’d actually reached a climax and had then blacked out?

  He’d never heard of such a thing, but there again, he’d never known any man who had been forced to do what he’d done. It would explain why Cacaphia had screamed and why someone would have thrown cold water over him, except he was certain that the cold had hit him before he had passed out and not after. Whatever had happened, his mistress would have been far from pleased, which would explain why he was now lying on a stone floor in the dark.

  The next thought he had was even more alarming than his previous one. If he had carried on until the end and then collapsed, his mistress would have lost a great deal of gold and would be very angry with him. What was worse, he would have lost the competition, and the former gladiator had told him what that would mean. Gingerly he moved his bound hands down his body and was relieved to find his manhood intact and resting.

  His relief was short lived as he wondered what Cacaphia’s retribution would be. Whatever it was he guessed it would be humiliating, painful and probably fatal. That thought spurred him to roll onto his knees and then to stand, so he could investigate the place in which he was being held. If he was going to avoid an unpleasant end he had to find a way to escape his prison before they realised he was awake and came for him.

  That was going to be difficult with his hands bound, but fortunately whoever had tied his hands had left them in front of him and hadn’t bothered securing his feet. It gave him a reasonable amount of freedom and allowed him to walk around his prison in search of its weaknesses. It didn’t take long for him to discover that the small, dark cell in which he was being held was as solid as a rock.

  There was a sturdy wooden door that didn’t even rattle when he put his shoulder to it, and the walls were made of rough brick with closely mortared joints. If he’d had a sharp tool and plenty of time he could probably break through, but as things stood there was no hope of escaping that way. It was pitch black in the cell so he couldn’t see what the roof was made of, but it didn’t matter that much because when he reached up he could only just touch it with his finger tips. That just left the floor which was made of solid rock and would need a war axe to break through its surface.

  Resignedly he sat back against the wall and closed his eyes to stop them staring into the darkness. As he did so a fleeting memory of glimpsing a stone cave lit by lamplight came back to him. He was certain that he’d seen it before he’d passed out, and it definitely wasn’t the same place he was being held in now, which didn’t make sense, but there again nothing about the previous evening did.

  He was still trying to put that memory into the right order of events when the door of his prison rattled as someone lifted the locking bar. Hastily he clambered to his feet and was then dazzled by the light as the door opened and brilliant sunlight flooded in. Outside someone snapped a command which he didn’t understand, but guessed by the harsh tone that whoever it was wanted him to come forward.

  When he stepped outside he found that he was back at the villa and his cell had been part of the building where the slaves were kept. There weren’t any slaves there now, only a dozen guards with short spears which were pointing straight at him. The master and mistress were there as well and neither of them looked very pleased. He thought about trying to apologise and explain that he didn’t know what had happened, but didn’t have the chance.

  Cacaphia took one look at him and stepped back in alarm. “That’s the one,” she squealed in her strange, unintelligible language, pointing a long finger at him. “He’s a demon! A monster!”

  Tutacaraph looked at him, frowned and shook his head slightly. “Tell me again what happened, my precious.”

  “Without you being here I was very lonely, so I went to visit Parcia and took him with me to show her the gift you had brought for me, my love. We were just lounging by the pool in the atrium when this barbarian leaped forward from where I had placed him and started screaming foul curses. Parcia and I were terrified and called for the guards who came running and knocked him out, but before they did so he went transparent.”

  “Transparent, my petal?”

  “Yes. He sort of shuddered and then for a moment, I could see straight through him. I tell you he
is a monster, a demon from Hades and he’s got to die before he brings down the wrath of the gods on us all.”

  “Yes, my dear, whatever you say. When I go to Rome next I’ll sell him off to a ludus. That way I will recover the money I paid for him, and I can buy you a gift to replace this one, and he can do something useful and die entertaining the crowds.”

  “No, no, that won’t do at all. He’s got to be burnt alive so that the demon inside of him is destroyed and doesn’t come back to haunt us.” Tutacaraph looked dubious and shook his head but his wife moved closer and trailed her hand slowly down his chest. “You will do that for me, my love, won’t you?”

  Tutacaraph almost purred. “Of course my sweet, you know I’ll do anything for you.”

  “Good,” she said, once again speaking Roman so that Banniff could understand her. She gave him a hard look. “We’ll burn him now, right here where he stands so I can watch the flames consume him.”

  Alarmed by the sudden announcement he went to take a step forward in protest, but one of the guards rammed the butt of his spear into his stomach, stopping him dead and knocking the breath out of him.

  “I don’t think that is a good idea, my precious, you know how upset the slaves were at Danem’s death.”

  “I don’t care about the slaves or how they feel, I just want this one dead for making such a fool of me.”

  Tutacaraph gave her a stern look which made her pout. “He will die, I promise you that, but not here where it will cause unrest. I will take him with me when I leave and find a suitable place where his screams and the smell of burning flesh won’t upset anyone.”

  Cacaphia gave up the argument and just smiled. “Thank you, but must you leave so soon?”

  “I’m afraid so, my business partners sail in the morning and I must be with them to protect our interests, otherwise they might disappear with certain items of value which, by rights, should belong to us. When I return, I will bring you back something from your homeland; perhaps a golden statue or a necklace which has been worn by a queen would please you?”

  “Yes, and another slave to keep me happy?”

  “Of course my sweet, but now I must go.”

  Banniff watched in a daze as Tutacaraph, who wasn’t tall enough to reach his wife’s lips, kissed her fingers one by one and then hurried away. Of all the ways to die, being burnt alive was probably the worst, and the screams of the men who had been turned into torches of flame by the Roman’s fire arrows came back to him and made his legs shake. He would have begged Cacaphia for a different death, but then two of the guards used their spear butts to painfully prod him into a stumbling walk after his master.

  At the front of the villa stood the cart in which he’d been driven the night before, and whilst the guards bundled him inside, his hopes rose that he might have a chance to escape once the villa was left behind. His mistress must have had the same thought as she gave an order, and one of the guards climbed in after him. The guard tightly bound his hands to one of the wagon’s struts and his feet to a ring in the floor so he could barely move.

  Through the back of the wagon he could see the look of spite on Cacaphia’s face and knew it would be pointless asking for clemency. In fact, despite his current uncomfortable position, he was relieved that he was leaving her behind, but then she stepped closer so that only he could hear her parting words.

  “You’re lucky that you are only going to burn for the gold you cost me last night. If my fool of a husband hadn’t returned, your death would have been slower and much more painful.”

  Cacaphia stepped back and dropped the cart’s covering, and after a few minutes he heard the gates of the villa open and felt the cart move forward. If he still had any thoughts about escaping they disappeared when the sound of horses following the cart told him that the guards were accompanying their master. He wasn’t just going to give up though and accept his fate. If he could get free, then he might be able to surprise the guards when they came for him and make a run for it.

  The chance of success wasn’t very good, but a spear in the back was a better way to die than being burnt alive. For the next hour he tried to put his plan into action, and twisted and strained against the knots which held him, but all he managed to do was make his wrists bleed. Eventually he gave up on the task, knowing his position was hopeless.

  Around mid-day, when the sun was high in the sky and the inside of the cart had become as hot as a baker’s oven, the cavalcade stopped. By the slight reduction in light and heat he guessed they had stopped in the shade of some trees, and he wondered if the guards were now busily gathering brush wood. The thought made him shiver despite the heat, and the knot of apprehension, which had been sitting in the pit of his stomach since Cacaphia had made her announcement, grew until it was hard to breathe.

  The guard who had done such a good job of tying him to the wagon came inside and released him, but ensured that his hands were still firmly bound before dragging him outside. He blinked in the harsh sunlight and looked around to see if a fire had been built, but all he could see was an empty fire pit and the guards filling their water bags from a small spring which erupted from some rocks nearby. The sight of water sparkling in the sun made him realise how thirsty he was, and for a moment his need to drink overcame his fear of what was going to happen to him.

  As he was going to die anyway, he decided he had nothing to lose, and started to move slowly towards where the guards stood around the spring talking to each other. The movement made one of the guards look up and frown at him, and then surprisingly he held out his water bag. Banniff carefully took it in case it was a trick, and then drank deeply. The water was ice cold, crystal clear and better than any wine he’d ever tasted.

  When he’d finished he handed it back to the waiting guard with a smile of thanks, and received a nod of acknowledgement in return. He took that as an encouraging sign and was about to ask the guard where they were, when Tutacaraph hurried forwards waving his arms in the air and giving orders in the strange language that his wife spoke. In response, the guards hurried around carrying out Tutacaraph’s orders, but leaving him where he was and without a guard.

  He supposed that this would be a good time to try and escape, but something inside of him kept him there whilst his master hurried over carrying some cloth in one hand and a knife in the other. Now he regretted not running, but it was too late as Tutacaraph stopped in front of him with the knife extended.

  “Can you ride?” Tutacaraph asked urgently.

  Of course he could ride; he was a warrior of the clans and his father owned many horses. “Yes, master.”

  “Good because I’m in a hurry. My business partners are short on crew and I don’t have time to search the slave markets for someone suitable to fill a rowing bench, so you will have to do. Now, if you give your word not to escape, I will let you live to serve me, but if you break that word, then your end will be as my dear wife demanded.”

  “I give my word,” he said without hesitation.

  “Then you had better keep it.” He started sawing at the rope which bound Banniff’s hands.

  “My wife has a delicate soul but she does like to play her little games. She thinks I don’t know what she gets up to with her friends, but I know all right and turn a blind eye to keep her happy. Cacaphia spends lives almost as fast as she spends my coin, but I am a careful man who doesn’t like to waste things. To waste your life just because Cacaphia drank too much wine and imagined that she could see right through you does not make commercial sense, and I am a sensible man.”

  He finished cutting the rope, took a step back and handed Banniff the tunic he’d been carrying. Wear this, do as you are told, and your life will not be an unpleasant one.”

  Banniff pulled the tunic over his head ignoring the smell of stale sweat and mould. It wasn’t quite long enough to cover his private parts, but when the guard who had offered him the water brought him a loin cloth and an old pair of sandals, he felt better than he had done since being torn f
rom his homeland. He felt even better when he had a horse underneath him, even if it was an old mare which seemed more interested in nibbling at the dried grass beneath the trees than obeying his commands.

  Riding an old nag which was about ready for the stew pot was better than travelling inside the cart or walking, so he didn’t bother complaining, but spent the few spare minutes he had checking the old horse over. Despite its sway back and cracked hooves, the animal appeared to be sound, and when Tutacaraph and two of the guards, now dressed the same as he was but with knives at their belt, set off, he was able to keep up. He’d no idea where he was going or what he would have to do when he arrived there, but anything had to be better than a big bonfire with him in the middle of it.

  *

  He’d heard about the sea from a man who had come from the northern isles and was travelling through his father’s lands, but he’d always known that the man had been telling tall stories to earn himself a night’s bed and keep. He’d thought that in all the world there could be no stretch of water that was wider than the Rhenus, but he’d been wrong. Standing on the dockside at Ostia and staring out across the blue water, he knew that the great river which cut through his land was just a trickle compared to this.

  There was water as far as the eye could see, flecked with white and rolling in waves onto the shore. In the distance, where the sea and sky met, was the end of the world. The thought of travelling there and falling off the end into the nothingness beyond made him shudder, so he turned away to take in the other wondrous sights around him.

  The port was a busy, bustling place with goods piled high on the dockside and people shouting and calling to each other, but he only had eyes for the ships. There had been boats on the Rhenus which hugged the shore line and carried goods from one settlement to another. They had been small, stubby traders made of rough timber and with just a dozen oars, and were nothing like the ships which were moored here. Here there were so many ships that he couldn’t count them all, and the size and the shapes were beyond anything he could have imagined if he hadn’t seen them with his own eyes.