THE SMALL CROWD of rich sycophants from the capitol city followed the dark sorcerer into the audience box of the private arena, fluttering like a colorful flock of birds. As members of the rich families, they viewed greatness through the lenses of wealth or power, both of which Alimar possessed, though no one knew with any certainty how much. An aristocratic man seated beside the sorcerer leaned over casually. “So, tell us about this man who is going to die at the hands of your warrior pet, Alimar.”

A faint smile touched Alimar’s lips. “You will enjoy this one, I think. I specifically chose Tambek because he is her lover.” There was a ripple of surprise and delight among the small audience. “He is one of my better gladiators; however your entertainment is worth the sacrifice.” He looked up and drew their attention. “Here they are now.” The pair marched out and stopped before him, both putting fists over their hearts and lowering their heads in respect. The sycophants immediately began chattering among themselves, arguing the odds and making wagers against one another.

Tiwaz’s voice was low, her words for her opponent alone. “I will not kill you, Tambek. But I am not going to throw the fight, so you must fight hard.”

Tambek looked up sharply to stare at Tiwaz. He paled with dread when he heard Alimar speaking the words of the spell compelling the woman to obey him. She grimaced, shaking her head, expression contorted with the discomfort the spell induced in forcing his will on her. “Kill him, my warrior.” Tambek took several steps back, pulling his sword out as she drew her ominous two-handed weapon free of the sheath across her back.

The first blows traded were pure show. Sunlight flashed off their blades and oiled flesh. The ringing of metal on metal filled the air. Small cuts drew blood but did no real harm. All aspects of the first few minutes served to heighten the excitement of the audience. The shift into the more earnest battle was subtle.

Tambek grunted when he blocked a downward strike, the impact far heavier than the earlier ones. “So, now it begins,” he muttered when she started stalking after him as he attempted to put space between them to regain his footing. His efforts were to no avail. The sycophants laughed as they sipped wine.

Many wide and far considered Tiwaz, several years younger than him, the best in the art of gladiating. The compulsion was unnecessary when it came to the battle. It had become instinct so deeply ingrained, the fight was a part of her. She always controlled the rhythm of the event, from the beginning, no matter if her opponent was beast or man. Entertainment first, then going in for the victory. The proud woman never permitted herself a loss, because losses equated to punishments for Doom.

She battered Tambek into exhaustion, forcing him to his knees and disarming him. He raised his head to meet her eyes, sadness and forgiveness in their depths. She met his eyes for several heartbeats, not moving.

Alimar called in tones that were a mixture of firmness and casualness, “Kill him!” Tambek closed his eyes when she raised the sword, waiting for the final blow. When it did not come, he opened his eyes uncertainly. Trembling, she held the blade in check. His eyes widened when Alimar repeated the order a second, then a third time with less dismissiveness and more anger. Still, she withheld the death blow.

The seamless, golden shackles that had magically grown with her from childhood gleamed in the light, shimmering with her shaking as she fought the spell and her master’s orders. Her expression was terrible. Rivulets of blood begin to seep from beneath the shackles and run down her arms. “Kill! Him!” The sword finally began to fall, but did not land. He felt its nearness as it sailed over his head and stared agape as she flung the weapon away.

Tiwaz shook as if with palsy. She met her master’s eyes. Throat tight, she was able to articulate a single word before collapsing to her knees. “No!”

For a heartbeat, utter silence enveloped the arena. It felt like nothing moved, not even the air. Then suddenly Alimar, always cool and collected, deadly in his subtlety, got to his feet in a fit of pure, unadulterated rage. His audience fled the arena in terror as the sorcerer leapt out of the audience box to land on the sands.

Tambek cringed, hiding his eyes with his arm. Too exhausted to flee, he was the only witness to the bestial attack on Tiwaz. Alimar used no magic to beat her in his fury. His savage attack continued long after Tiwaz lay still in the sands, bruised, bloody, and body broken. The male gladiator could not look on her when Alimar spoke, spitting words like icy daggers. “Tambek. You will take this filth’s place as my bodyguard.”

Unsure if he could consider himself fortunate for living, Tambek could only nod several times before he could voice the words, “Yes, Master.” The blood-spattered sorcerer waved a gruesome hand for Tambek to follow him. The surviving gladiator paused just long enough to put his hand on Tiwaz’s blood-soaked hair, a tear escaping his eye. “Thank you.” He staggered to his feet and lurched forward to catch up to Alimar.

Zuneer stepped through the gates to the gladiator stables, pushing them open in front of him. He could not watch as Doom ran out to his friend, slipping and staggering back to his feet in his haste to get to her side. Urbin emerged as well to stand with Zuneer, both men silent out of respect.

“Ti?” Doom choked, falling to his knees in the white sand soaked red with her blood. He could not bring himself to touch her at first. The gromek reached out a huge, trembling hand to caress her blood-soaked, ebony braids with uncertainty. “Ti?” he called, closing his eyes when she remained unresponsive. He gathered her into his arms with tender care, holding her against his broad chest. “You did it, Ti,” he whispered, bowing his head over her. “You defeated Master finally. It is over.”

“Not until he is dead,” a familiar voice whispered.

The gromek blinked, sitting upright in shock, staring at the broken body he held. “Ti?” He laid one hand along her cheek, staring intently at her inert form. “Ti?!” Though the warmth of life faded even in the hot sun, Doom knew with absolute certainty he heard her whisper the words of denial. The discovery of the weak flutter of her pulse filled him with an iron-like resolve.

Urbin and Zuneer stared in awe and no small amount of trepidation when the gromek surged to his feet and strode towards them with purpose. Fierce determination lent ominousness to his height. He fixed them both with a hard look. “I will not let her die a slave,” he growled. “I promised her freedom. I promised her. Help me.”

“We can’t,” Urbin began.

Zuneer held up a hand. “Wait. There may be a way.” He looked at Urbin and said cryptically, “The raving wagoner Juran.”

Urbin’s eyes went wide. “Are you daft?! The man is thirteen short of a dozen!”

“Who else would be brazen enough to even try to help any of Alimar’s slaves escape?” Zuneer demanded in a hiss. He looked at the deathly pale face of the woman hanging in Doom’s arms. “She did what none of us have the balls to even speak of, much less try. She refused to kill Tambek. She saved my son’s life!” He grabbed Urbin by the front of his tunic with one hand, gesturing to the pair of slaves. “We owe it to her.”

Urbin nodded, lowering his eyes in shame. “She may not last long, Doom,” he warned. “I can tell from here she is bad off.”

Doom looked at her face, his expression so contorted with anguish, the humans wished his kind could cry; it would appear less wounded. “I know. But her death…it can’t be for nothing. She can’t die here. Not like this. I promised her we’d be free. If there is the slightest chance for her to be free for a little while before she…before she is gone, I have to try. I have to.”

Zuneer stared at Urbin until the man relented. The woodsman stated gruffly, “If she’s going to have a chance of living long enough, you need to take her somewhere safe to tend to her injuries. Come on.”