returned to the arena. Cheering reverberated around the stadium, and despite the disgust that welled up in me at the sound of it, I couldn't help but feel pleased with surviving the first challenge. Brushing so close to death in the first round didn't give me the slightest feeling of pleasure, however. If the goal was to make it through all three rounds alive, my chances were becoming increasingly slim.
The voice of the Dominus cut through the chatter and instantly the cheering dwindled before stopping altogether. “An exceptionally entertaining display, was it not?”
The crowd roared in approbation.
My eyes bored into the bulging musculature of the shadowy figure on his opulent dais. “Tonight, I offer you the chance to become this boy's patron, if he survives the night’s tribulations. His value will be determined by your contributions.”
My stomach dropped; my jailer hadn’t been bluffing. He meant to pawn me off like some trophy born of blood and death if I managed to survive everything thrown at me. The question was what exactly did it mean that someone would become my patron? And how would my plans need to be changed? I definitely couldn’t wait till nightfall to make my move and risk being sold to the highest bidder because I missed my golden opportunity.
— Chapter 6 —
I ’d been given only a moment’s rest as the attendees recessed and my jailer patched up numerous gashes. Obviously, he wasn't able to do anything for the rapidly appearing bruises, but those would fade, if I lived long enough. I sucked down the water given to me greedily, draining every last drop in an attempt to expel the dry taste of sand from my inflamed throat.
“You've made it through only a single trial, boy ,” my guard hissed, grinning nastily. “Don't be getting your hopes up. You are lucky to have the support of the crowd, otherwise I'd have already ridded the Dominus of you.” He had become increasingly pissy. He had probably forgotten to take his anti-psychotics this morning.
“I'll provide you with a little background, since you don't know me.” The anger inside me bubbled over and his gruesome smile was returned in kind. “I won't be bogged down by any obstacle you put me up against. I won't die, not here, in this filthy underworld.”
Rather than becoming incensed as expected, my jailer became unreadable, but then cracked a smile. “You will fall here, whether you choose to believe it or not. When your tortured soul finally enters the Realm of Hades, you will be subjected to acts of such horror that what's remaining of your personality fractures and breaks under the strain.”
“If it makes you feel better, that was almost scary.” I offered a lopsided grin. “Might want to work on the delivery, but it shows some promise.”
Jeeves interjected from across the room, far less incorporeal looking than previously, “Hades can be a dreadful place, and it is quite possible that you will be taken there if you perish upon the sands of this arena.”
My jailer displayed his yellow teeth in a wide smile, assured that his prediction would come to pass. My anger pounded, a raging surf against an obdurate cliff face, but it was useless against the restraining torc damming up my power. I extended my senses tentatively out to the piece, looking for any cracks within its defenses that could be eroded and worn away. When my metaphysical eyes got a visual, it became clear that the torc was a sinuous whole, an interlacing design that was not unlike complex weaving. The problem I quickly encountered was the difficulty in finding where the weaving began or ended, or if it ever did. As my senses honed in on the design and filled in the missing pieces, I unhappily discovered the device had more layers than could be counted.
“ You getting this, Jeeves?” I sent the vision his way.
“ Quite. Although the weave is relatively simple in design, finding the beginning strand is no small feat and unraveling it is another
The voice of the Dominus cut through the chatter and instantly the cheering dwindled before stopping altogether. “An exceptionally entertaining display, was it not?”
The crowd roared in approbation.
My eyes bored into the bulging musculature of the shadowy figure on his opulent dais. “Tonight, I offer you the chance to become this boy's patron, if he survives the night’s tribulations. His value will be determined by your contributions.”
My stomach dropped; my jailer hadn’t been bluffing. He meant to pawn me off like some trophy born of blood and death if I managed to survive everything thrown at me. The question was what exactly did it mean that someone would become my patron? And how would my plans need to be changed? I definitely couldn’t wait till nightfall to make my move and risk being sold to the highest bidder because I missed my golden opportunity.
— Chapter 6 —
I ’d been given only a moment’s rest as the attendees recessed and my jailer patched up numerous gashes. Obviously, he wasn't able to do anything for the rapidly appearing bruises, but those would fade, if I lived long enough. I sucked down the water given to me greedily, draining every last drop in an attempt to expel the dry taste of sand from my inflamed throat.
“You've made it through only a single trial, boy ,” my guard hissed, grinning nastily. “Don't be getting your hopes up. You are lucky to have the support of the crowd, otherwise I'd have already ridded the Dominus of you.” He had become increasingly pissy. He had probably forgotten to take his anti-psychotics this morning.
“I'll provide you with a little background, since you don't know me.” The anger inside me bubbled over and his gruesome smile was returned in kind. “I won't be bogged down by any obstacle you put me up against. I won't die, not here, in this filthy underworld.”
Rather than becoming incensed as expected, my jailer became unreadable, but then cracked a smile. “You will fall here, whether you choose to believe it or not. When your tortured soul finally enters the Realm of Hades, you will be subjected to acts of such horror that what's remaining of your personality fractures and breaks under the strain.”
“If it makes you feel better, that was almost scary.” I offered a lopsided grin. “Might want to work on the delivery, but it shows some promise.”
Jeeves interjected from across the room, far less incorporeal looking than previously, “Hades can be a dreadful place, and it is quite possible that you will be taken there if you perish upon the sands of this arena.”
My jailer displayed his yellow teeth in a wide smile, assured that his prediction would come to pass. My anger pounded, a raging surf against an obdurate cliff face, but it was useless against the restraining torc damming up my power. I extended my senses tentatively out to the piece, looking for any cracks within its defenses that could be eroded and worn away. When my metaphysical eyes got a visual, it became clear that the torc was a sinuous whole, an interlacing design that was not unlike complex weaving. The problem I quickly encountered was the difficulty in finding where the weaving began or ended, or if it ever did. As my senses honed in on the design and filled in the missing pieces, I unhappily discovered the device had more layers than could be counted.
“ You getting this, Jeeves?” I sent the vision his way.
“ Quite. Although the weave is relatively simple in design, finding the beginning strand is no small feat and unraveling it is another
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