battered them but moments before.
~*~
Chaos took hold of those in the Arena, and not even the bellowed demand from the Emperor brought order. The rail bit against Blaise’s stomach as he tried to figure out what was happening in the pit, but the screams of the Citizens drowned out the sounds from below. If God’s power had been invoked, Blaise couldn’t sense it.
“God devour them,” he spat, slamming his opened hand against the marble wall. With all of his power as a bishop and his heritage, he couldn’t do anything without hearing the scriptures as they were Spoken. His lip curled up in a snarl, exposing his teeth. If the culprit chose to slay those fleeing, the Gates wouldn’t close until every last one of them resided in the Gardens.
God didn’t care how they’d died, only for the quality of the souls ascending to the Garden.
Red splotches marred the Emperor’s face and the man leaned over the rail, pointing at the battle below. “How dare those worthless things ruin my event? Kill them!”
The cries of those fleeing the Arena drowned out the man’s demand.
“Look,” the man beside Blaise said, mimicking the Emperor’s gesture.
Blaise wondered if God would get too upset with him if one or two extra numbered among the dead. He stared down at the sands at the human’s request.
Catsu stalked forward and bodies fell in his wake. The man didn’t wait to find out if any survived his blows, and not all of them died. Men writhed on the sands while clinging hopelessly to their lives, not even realizing the Gates poised over them, cracked open in anticipation of the moment their last breath fled their bodies.
Where the boy with the Daughter’s eyes turned death into something almost beautiful in its swiftness, in Catsu’s hand, it was a nightmare born of flashing steel and the red of blood. The children roused to the convict’s presence. The pleasure slave lifted her staff, and the color drained from her face.
One blow knocked her weapon aside. The second felled her, the pommel of the blade cracking against the side of her head. She crumpled and lay still on the sands.
The green-eyed boy lunged at Catsu. Their blades clashed with a ring that cut over the screams of the Citizens. When their blades locked, the slave stood firm despite their difference in size, staying positioned between the so-called Hero of the Arena and the younger children.
One of the older slaves, wearing a bronze collar, lifted his sword and jumped at the two fighting. The blade stabbed at the unprotected back of the green-eyed slave. Blaise barked out a warning and drew a breath to Speak.
Catsu’s mouth moved and a bolt of fire and lightning streaked down from the clear sky.
The bronze-collared slave fell screaming, writhing as a shroud of flame and sparks engulfed him. The blade he’d held, instead of piercing through the other slave’s spine, grazed his side instead. The Gates to the Garden didn’t open. Blaise frowned and forced his muscles to relax.
To his amazement, neither slave had died.
Blaise shook his head. If he interfered, he’d risk exposing his true self and his secret. Should the mortals discover the truth, God would punish him as He had punished Lucin and Mikael. Blaise didn’t savor the idea of spending the rest of eternity trapped in an inanimate object, doomed to become the plaything of foolish mortals desiring power. Settling on muttering the prayers for the dead, he watched and waited.
A shove from Catsu split the two apart. The slave staggered back, one hand clamped to his side, body twisted to present as small a target as possible. Instead of striking at the boy who dared to fight as an equal, Catsu went for the bronze-collared slave on the ground.
Blaise felt his eyebrows rise.
With a flick of his wrist, the Hero of the arena gouged out the fallen boy’s left eye.
“What are you fools doing? I said ‘Kill them all!’” the Emperor screamed, slamming his fist against the gold
~*~
Chaos took hold of those in the Arena, and not even the bellowed demand from the Emperor brought order. The rail bit against Blaise’s stomach as he tried to figure out what was happening in the pit, but the screams of the Citizens drowned out the sounds from below. If God’s power had been invoked, Blaise couldn’t sense it.
“God devour them,” he spat, slamming his opened hand against the marble wall. With all of his power as a bishop and his heritage, he couldn’t do anything without hearing the scriptures as they were Spoken. His lip curled up in a snarl, exposing his teeth. If the culprit chose to slay those fleeing, the Gates wouldn’t close until every last one of them resided in the Gardens.
God didn’t care how they’d died, only for the quality of the souls ascending to the Garden.
Red splotches marred the Emperor’s face and the man leaned over the rail, pointing at the battle below. “How dare those worthless things ruin my event? Kill them!”
The cries of those fleeing the Arena drowned out the man’s demand.
“Look,” the man beside Blaise said, mimicking the Emperor’s gesture.
Blaise wondered if God would get too upset with him if one or two extra numbered among the dead. He stared down at the sands at the human’s request.
Catsu stalked forward and bodies fell in his wake. The man didn’t wait to find out if any survived his blows, and not all of them died. Men writhed on the sands while clinging hopelessly to their lives, not even realizing the Gates poised over them, cracked open in anticipation of the moment their last breath fled their bodies.
Where the boy with the Daughter’s eyes turned death into something almost beautiful in its swiftness, in Catsu’s hand, it was a nightmare born of flashing steel and the red of blood. The children roused to the convict’s presence. The pleasure slave lifted her staff, and the color drained from her face.
One blow knocked her weapon aside. The second felled her, the pommel of the blade cracking against the side of her head. She crumpled and lay still on the sands.
The green-eyed boy lunged at Catsu. Their blades clashed with a ring that cut over the screams of the Citizens. When their blades locked, the slave stood firm despite their difference in size, staying positioned between the so-called Hero of the Arena and the younger children.
One of the older slaves, wearing a bronze collar, lifted his sword and jumped at the two fighting. The blade stabbed at the unprotected back of the green-eyed slave. Blaise barked out a warning and drew a breath to Speak.
Catsu’s mouth moved and a bolt of fire and lightning streaked down from the clear sky.
The bronze-collared slave fell screaming, writhing as a shroud of flame and sparks engulfed him. The blade he’d held, instead of piercing through the other slave’s spine, grazed his side instead. The Gates to the Garden didn’t open. Blaise frowned and forced his muscles to relax.
To his amazement, neither slave had died.
Blaise shook his head. If he interfered, he’d risk exposing his true self and his secret. Should the mortals discover the truth, God would punish him as He had punished Lucin and Mikael. Blaise didn’t savor the idea of spending the rest of eternity trapped in an inanimate object, doomed to become the plaything of foolish mortals desiring power. Settling on muttering the prayers for the dead, he watched and waited.
A shove from Catsu split the two apart. The slave staggered back, one hand clamped to his side, body twisted to present as small a target as possible. Instead of striking at the boy who dared to fight as an equal, Catsu went for the bronze-collared slave on the ground.
Blaise felt his eyebrows rise.
With a flick of his wrist, the Hero of the arena gouged out the fallen boy’s left eye.
“What are you fools doing? I said ‘Kill them all!’” the Emperor screamed, slamming his fist against the gold
Similar Books
