The older man jumped back and slashed at Vengeance’s shoulder. He twisted, further exposing his back to Chaos’ attack. He continued to turn, whipping his head around to keep an eye on his brother as his body rotated. The adze came up, slashing from low to high at an angle as he whirled around.
Chaos was ready for the attack and hacked downward with his sword. It clanked loudly against the metal vambrace on Vengeance’s forearm, knocking his hand roughly against his thigh. The crowd roared in approval.
They fought for what seemed like hours, both seeking an advantage over the other, but neither gaining any ground. While the bookmakers acknowledged that Vengeance was the better warrior, Chaos was having the fight of his life. Neither man seemed able to make it past the other’s guard to do any real damage until Chaos stumbled. He recovered quickly and then attacked wildly, forcing Vengeance back.
Chaos slashed across his body, his sword leveled at Vengeance’s ribs. The Primus blocked his brother’s swing with the axe and stepped forward, delivering a devastating cross punch to Chaos’ cheekbone. The jolting impact went all the way up his arm as his knuckles crushed the bone, caving it inward.
Chaos dropped to one knee and flung the tip of his blade out wildly, catching him in the side. The blade slid along the arc of Vengeance’s lower ribs as he stepped backward out of the reach of the flailing sword. Unpredictable, wounded fighters were extremely dangerous.
His brother’s cheek was visibly sunken inward; the bone had collapsed, giving Chaos a lopsided appearance. The swollen, fluid-filled skin around his eye made it so he had to turn his head at an odd angle to see what Vengeance was doing.
The Primus stepped closer to his brother and said, “Are you ready to yield, Chaos? You’ve fought well today; we could end this right now. You are too injured to continue to fight and I am the victor. The Guild will get its way and you will be allowed to live.”
“Good one, Brother,” Chaos spat. The words practically fell from his mouth. “Death is the only way to guarantee an eternity in heaven. You know that.”
The crowd began to boo once more in response to the lack of action. “It doesn’t need to be this way,” Vengeance shouted to be heard over the noise.
Chaos turned his good eye over his shoulder to look at the stands and then back to Vengeance. He smiled sadly and lunged forward with his sword.
Vengeance stepped sideways and brought his adze down on the base of his brother’s neck. The weight of the blade helped to carry it through the soft tissue and vertebrae, burying the blade in the arena floor as Caleb’s body shuddered against the handle. His head bounced once and then rolled to a stop in the soft sand.
Once again, the crowd roared their approval and the champion wept.
*****
The scraping of boots outside of the room that Freya shared with Vengeance woke her. How long have I been asleep? she wondered. The Primus and his brother had left hours ago to prepare for their fight, leaving her alone in the gloom of the cell with no way of determining the time of day. She’d heard the roar of the crowds above, but they soon became a near-constant buzz that became difficult to differentiate between fights, lulling her to sleep.
She started, realizing that the crowd noise had quieted down, only the occasional shout drifted through the old concrete bleachers.
The cell that she and Vengeance shared boasted a large window in the door, which did little to allow light into the underground room. Cooper called the place an office, something that the people of the past used when a different type of sport was played in the arena. Freya thought that a place of work inside a bathhouse room was a stupid idea. Why was the office in the bathhouse? Did the workers watch the warriors bathe?
A small rectangle of light became visible as someone opened the outer door. Two shadows darkened the doorway and Freya’s breath caught in her throat. Who is with the jailer?
A third shadow appeared and he lit a candle with an old lighter. The sharp angles of Vengeance’s face appeared in a soft orange glow. Her heart leapt for joy that the Primus lived, while it filled with remorse at the probable outcome for Chaos. The brothers had prepared for this fight for months, ordered to battle one another on the same day that Freya was given to Vengeance exclusively.
“Stand back from the door, whore,” Cooper’s rough voiced ordered.
She edged away from the opening and rested her back against the cool concrete wall. Outside, locks twisted open and the door swung slowly into the cramped space. Cooper ducked out from under Vengeance’s shoulder and the man collapsed onto the floor.
“Make him feel better. Fuck him or do whatever you need to do. He has an appointment to speak to Minister Thaynes tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” she muttered. She hated Cooper more than she hated all of the other guards combined. The man enjoyed causing pain and humiliation; and he excelled at being an ass.
He closed the door and locked each of the locks before setting the candle on one of the metal benches in the bathhouse room. The two guards secured the outer door, plunging the room into near darkness once again. The only light in the office came through the small window, casting odd shadows across the walls.
Freya turned to see Vengeance sitting on the pallet, knees drawn up against his chest. A dark stain covered his side. He’d been hurt.
“Primus, are you… Is it over?” Freya asked.
He dropped his head into his hands. “He’s gone. I killed him.”
“It’s what he wanted.”
“He was a fool.”
She frowned and tried another approach. “Vengeance, I—”
“Don’t call me that,” he muttered.
“I—ah, Primus?”
“Vengeance died beside Chaos. My given name is Varan,” he confided. “Never call me Vengeance again, understand?”
“Yes, of course,” she lied. His sudden admission shocked her. She’d been his mate for several months, taken in the late summer and through the winter, and she’d never known his real name. She’d asked him time and again and he’d always told her that only his family—and Lucas and Cooper apparently—knew the name that his parents gave him.
“My brother’s name was Caleb. They forced me to kill my only family.”
She knelt beside him. “I’m sorry… Varan. Your brother died a warrior, like he wanted.”
“Don’t,” he warned. “I don’t need your sympathy.”
“Well I don’t need you moping around like a lost child either. Err—” she realized her error too late and cringed, waiting for the blow. She’d been beaten many times over the years for saying the wrong thing to lesser men. Men liked to be told that they were always right and without flaw. They didn’t take kindly to a woman telling them differently. So far, the Primus had treated her kindly and never harmed her, but she’d hadn’t been so bold as to say something about his personality before.
To her surprise, Varan laughed. “I am a lost child, Freya. We both were. Kidnapped and then abandoned by our family. They never came for us.”
She eased down beside him, placing an arm over his shoulder. He’d alluded to his past before, but like every slave, it didn’t matter how they’d ended up where they were. She’d never pressed; if he wanted to tell her about his past, then he would. “He knew what the outcome would be, Pri— I mean, Varan,” she said tentatively, testing out the word.
“I know. We talked of this day for so long, I just can’t believe that it’s over.”
Freya sighed. “It’s not over. Lucas wants to parade you around as the sole champion of the Contest.”
“You’re right. It will never be over,” he mumbled. “Not as long as we’re slaves.”
“It’s our role in life.”
“No, it’s not,” Varan replied. “Men weren’t born to serve other men. We were born to be free. We could leave, tonight, and go north…”
“What? Primus, you know Lucas would never let you buy your freedom. You’re his biggest moneymaker.”
“I don’t intend
to buy my—our—freedom,” he replied, his voice stronger than it was a moment before. “I plan to escape. I want you to come with me.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Does he really plan to escape and take me with him? “How do you intend to do this?”
“I haven’t thought through the details yet. I don’t think it would be hard. We’re only ever guarded by two or three men at a time and they have to transport us to the minister somehow.”
“Its…intriguing,” she said cautiously. They were lovers and she knew the Primus—Varan!—better than she’d ever known any other man before. Lucas had gifted her to him and relieved her of all her other duties, but she wasn’t ready to commit her secret desires to him. Slaves did strange things to win the favor of their owners. What if he was in league with Lucas and made up the idea of an escape to trap her? Life was hard, but there was no reason to make it harder by trusting the wrong person.
“It will be dangerous,” he stated, interrupting her thoughts. “Are you willing to try?”
“Are you really going to try to escape?” she asked, whispering the last word like someone may overhear her.
“Yes. Caleb made me promise him before the fight that I would escape. He had a vision that told him I should escape with you and head north. We’d find a forest and that was where I’d learn the truth of things.”
Freya blanched. “Your brother had a vision about me?”
“Yes. He said that the two of us would escape to the forest and find the true path—whatever that means.”
She nodded her head slowly as she searched her memories for the word ‘forest.’ She knew that it had something to do with a lot of trees, but she wasn’t sure why another word was needed for describing trees. She did know that going north meant a colder winter; she wasn’t sure that she could handle any colder than Trinity had been this past winter.
“Is this ‘forest’ someplace where we can be safe? Where we’ll never have to worry about Cooper or the Contest ever again?” Each time he stepped into the arena—even for practice—she was worried that he wouldn’t come back to their small little world and she’d be made a whore, passed around the guards and gladiators, once again.
Varan shrugged out from under her arm and cupped her face lightly. “I don’t know if we’ll be safe, but the Contest will be behind us. I’m done killing for those bastards’ pleasure.”
She remained silent, willing him to continue so as not to give away her intentions. “I allowed myself to become comfortable,” he began. “When we were children, Caleb and I swore that we would escape. Over time, the desire to leave lessened as we learned to be warriors and once I became Primus, I forgot about it. Then, I became champion and didn’t want to leave.
“Caleb knew that his fate was sealed, that’s why he wanted me to send him to Fólkvangr. I have done this for him. Now I want to leave this place and become a free man… Hopefully with you beside me.”
She considered her words carefully and then said, “If you are certain that you want to leave to find this place that your brother told you about, then I will go with you.”
*****
The next few hours were a blur as they roughed out a plan to escape during the transfer between the arena and the minister’s home. Once they worked out what they could, which was very little, they made love and then cleaned themselves, taking advantage of the fresh water provided. If all went well and they were able to escape, they’d be on the road for a long time and wouldn’t be able to bathe.
Finally, Cooper returned with another guard. “Are you in a better mood now, Primus? I heard you rutting into your woman earlier, so you should be. Minister Thaynes is expecting you at his compound in an hour.”
“Just me?” Varan asked.
“Yes, just you. Lucas is already there,” Cooper replied. He threw in a set of clothing. “Here, put these on and make yourself presentable.”
Freya watched as Varan separated the pile. There was an expensive pair of old world pants and a shirt with buttons down the front. Along the collar, some extra material folded over, giving it the appearance of throat armor, but it was soft.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Those are nice clothes, Primus. You are meeting with a minister of the Commerce Guild; you can’t hardly go there in your underwear.”
“Is there anything like these, the ‘nice’ clothes, for Freya to wear?”
“You want to bring your whore to mingle with the elite of society?” Cooper guffawed.
Varan chuckled along with him, but the veins in his neck told Freya that his anger raged inside. “I think she is a very pretty thing, is she not?” he asked. “It would look good for me to have such a beautiful woman on my arm.”
Cooper stared hard at him for a moment, then at her. His eyes drifted down to her breasts and he licked his lips. “Yeah, you’re right. The woman would make a good addition to the crowd.” He turned to the second guard and said, “Go find a dress. The household slaves will have something that’ll make her appear presentable, even if she is in the company of an animal.”
As he stepped back and locked the door, Cooper continued to stare at her through the window.
Freya turned her head so the curls of deep red hair fell over her face. “I don’t like him,” she whispered. “And I don’t trust him.”
Varan nodded silently, continuing to stare at the cell keeper. Cooper finally looked away and sat on one of the benches outside while he waited for the other man to return.
It wasn’t long before the guard returned. Freya thought his name was Mark, but wasn’t sure since he was new to the House of Miller. She hadn’t interacted with many of the guards after Lucas decreed that no one else but Varan would touch her. He was little more than a boy, but if he escorted them this night, he would die.
She felt bad for him since she didn’t know if he was like the others, but given enough time, he’d be just like them. Belittling. Beating. Raping. They were all horrible human beings. Good riddance.
To prove her thoughts, Mark watched eagerly as Freya undressed, removing the plain dress that she wore daily. The bastard’s eyes seemed to bore into her, so she turned away to slide the nicer, well-cut gown that the household women wore on special occasions over her head. He was still staring when she turned around.
“Get enough of an eyeful, guard?”
“Give me a few minutes and you’d get much more,” he sneered, grabbing his cock.
“Back off, Mark,” Cooper interrupted. “Lucas made it plain that she belongs to the Primus. Anyone who tries to violate her will become a practice partner for the gladiators.”
Mark stepped away from the window, mumbling. “That’s a waste of a perfectly good piece of ass. Why does the fucking slave get his own woman?”
“Because he’s the champion and Lucas wants to keep him happy, which brings in the money,” the cell keeper replied and then unlocked the door. “Hands, Primus.”
Varan obediently stuck his hands out and then pulled them back. “Come on, Coop. Am I going to be handcuffed the entire time at the minister’s house?”
“I don’t know what Minister Thaynes’ security at the house will do once we’re there. But, I know that you aren’t leaving that room without these cuffs on.”
Varan allowed the jailer to put the shackles around his wrist and then stepped into the bathhouse room beyond where Mark waited. “Come on, Freya.”
She held out her hands and Cooper laughed at her. “We don’t need to handcuff a woman. I know exactly what to do to make you obey me. Who knows, you might like it.”
Freya smiled, “I wouldn’t think of disobeying. I was being kind to the Primus, to show him that we both would be restrained.”
“The Primus is an animal,” Cooper replied. “You, however, are a delicate flower.” His face twisted into a scowl. “I’d crush you under my boot if you tried anything. Let’s go; searching for that dress took too long and we’re running late.”
She walked dutifully beside Varan down
a long, poorly lit corridor underneath the seats of the arena. The two guards followed close behind. After a few hundred feet, they came to a door, which Cooper unlocked from a key he produced from his pocket.
Outside, the night air was crisp against Freya’s exposed skin. The dress may have looked nice, but it did little to protect her against the elements. Goosebumps erupted across her arms and she hugged herself tight for warmth.
“How far is it to the minister’s home?” she asked.
“Cold?” Mark snickered.
“Yes, I am.” There was no sense lying about it.
“We have a carriage,” Cooper replied. “It’ll be warmer in there out of the wind.”
The jailer talked to the guards at the fence and they opened the gate, passing them through to the freedom of the city. The carriage waited a few feet away and they hustled to the open door. It took her a few tries to climb the steps in the long dress she wore, but she was finally able to make it with a little help from Varan.
Freya scooted across the interior to the far side while the Primus sat beside her. Cooper and Mark sat on the bench opposite them. The cell keeper banged loudly on the roof with the pommel of his dagger and the carriage lurched to a start as the unseen driver flicked the horses into movement.
“How far is it?” she asked once again, following the branch plan that they’d developed in the office. They hadn’t known whether they would walk to the minister’s home or if they’d be transported by carriage. Now they did, and that narrowed down their different plans.
“It’s about an hour,” Cooper replied. “Maybe less if the streets aren’t clogged with people.”
“Oh, then I’ll close my eyes and try to sleep. Please let me know when we’re close so I can clear away the redness in them.”
“Sure. You go to sleep,” Mark hissed. “We’ll keep an eye on this killer.”
She leaned over into Varan’s shoulder and pretended to rest just as they’d planned.
The carriage rocked back and forth as they travelled down the rutted road. It wasn’t long before Freya started to get sleepy. She fought it; she was supposed to pretend to be asleep, not to actually fall asleep, but the cold outside and the sudden warmth of the carriage conspired against her, aided by the motion. Soon, she drifted off to sleep.
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