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Bris and Tang packed the cheeses, breads, cooked meats and casks of wine into the cart. Quella was haggling with a farmer over several large pigs to roast at the gathering at Number One. The three had decided to collect everything they would need into a cave they’d located about two leagues from the mine. The men had been surprised to find the cave and to note that it had only been used by small animals. At least that’s what they deduced from the debris and scat left behind.

The cave was rather large. To their surprise tunnels led deep into the hills northward. Tang would have loved to investigate further but his duty lay elsewhere for now. Maybe when Gygr was free there would be time.
 

Both the warrior and the guard shivered as they were undressed and laid on pallets, then covered with heavy animal skins.

Stamos ordered his assistants, Listra and Mirva, begin cleaning the mud from the patients. The guard was chilled but in excellent condition. The physician decided to keep him the rest of the night because he wasn’t sure how much water the man had swallowed or breathed into his lungs. Gygr had a deep chill and no amount of skins could keep the woman warm. Her fever was so high Stamos need only stand beside to feel the heat emanating from her body. The worry showed on his face as he used cloths rinsed in cool rainwater to try to bring her temperature down.

“Oh gods,” the young woman whispered to herself as she stood at the door of the infirmary looking at her pale, convulsing friend. “What happened?” Emilie slipped to the floor beside the pallet that held the gladiator and took her hand. “She’s freezing.”

Stamos quickly related the events that led to the warrior’s illness. He passed a bowl of cool water and a cloth and the young woman immediately began gently wiping the sweat from her friend. “Gods she’s so hot.” Gygr’s teeth chattered and she rocked her head from side to side.

“Well, well. What have we here?” The fat guard, Belum, smirked as he lifted the young woman’s chin with the heel of his whip. “Aren’t you that little gladiator Jauka seems to admire so much?”

Gygr had been in Creantlisto less than three years and had already fought over a hundred times in the arena. The people loved her. The soldiers hated her. If a girl could humiliate men twice her age, men trained to fight and kill, men who had skill beyond their own, what did that say about themselves. Nearly every soldier in Jauka’s army had hated this red haired girl who possessed such unnatural abilities in the games. She was an aberration.

She stood before the man and said nothing, her deep blue eyes on the same line as his gray ones. His arm raised and before he could bring it down a strong fist grabbed his wrist and held it. Eyes flashed and the man pulled his arm away and unconsciously moved one step back. “I’m in charge here,” he looked at the mark on her arm, “1734. Don’t forget it. You don’t have your friends to protect you here.” He turned to another guard, “put this unit in the tunnels,” then strode away slapping the rolled up whip against his leg as he walked.

The man attached to the other end of the leg chain glanced at the woman from the corner of his eye. “I saw you in the games,” he whispered. “Is it true you killed your family in the arena?”

“Shut up,” she hissed to the man as they were led to the opening of a huge cavern. The front had to be at least ten times Gygr’s height from top to bottom and twice that from side to side. The new slaves could see the lines of other slaves carrying baskets of dirt which were passed to others who then carried them to another area of the compound. The interior was filled with busy people. Slaves moving toward the entrance carrying heavy baskets of dirt and slaves moving back into the interior with empty baskets. Several guards used their whips to keep the units moving and Gygr noted that some used any or no excuse to use it. I guess some people just like to cause others pain.

The cavern was riddled with tunnels and Gygr and her partner were lead to the very back into a narrow tunnel that was not even an arm’s length deep. “This is where you work. The last two died. Let’s hope you get deeper in before you do.” The guard pushed them and laughed leaving them alone. Two units dropped four baskets beside them and turned away.

“Where’s the digging tools?” Gygr's partner asked.

A man turned and held up his hands wriggling his fingers. “At the end of your arms.” He turned away and slowly returned to the front of the cavern.

Gygr began scraping at the slight indentation already begun by the previous workers and was happy to note the dirt was moist and relatively easy to dig into once the dry outside was scraped away. She began to fill a basket with the dirt. Beside her the man sat down and leaned his back against the cave wall. “Uh, my name’s Patch.”

“Get to work Patch,” she continued filling the basket and when it was full set it aside and grabbed an empty one. She stopped and looked at the man. “I said start digging.” The man didn’t move. Gygr leaned down and pulled the man to his feet by his tunic and held him against the wall his feet dangling. Her cold eyes bore into his and he tried to say something which was lost when the girl felt a blow from behind and fell to the ground.

She awoke to darkness. Her head throbbed, her throat was dry and her stomach growled. She tried to move but found herself confined. She could not raise her head, sit up straight, straighten her legs or even move her arms much past her sides. She felt around and noted bars at the top covered by a heavy cover she could not budge. The sides were solid except for a series of small holes at the very top and very bottom of each side. It was stifling and her tunic was already soaked with perspiration.

Gygr’s muscles were beginning to cramp. She had no idea how long she was in the box before she awoke and had even less of where it was located. A screeching noise above caught her attention and she looked up to see the bars overhead and a dark sky littered with stars beyond. Cool air rushed in and the girl shook at the sudden chill. “I see you’re aren’t one of those who's going to follow the rules.” The fat pudgy face of Belum peered down at her. “You get isolation for that,” he chuckled clearly enjoying her plight. “Three days in here. See you later,” he slammed the top over the bars and the noise in the close quarters hurt her ears.

She slept. When she awoke she breathed the stifling air thinking of the crime that sent her to this hole. What was it? Rules. Which rule did I break? She slept again and thought of Hannibal. Bris will take care of him. Bris. Wonder if he knows what this place is like. Pain shot through her legs, arms and back. She moved as much as she could in the confines of the box but it wasn’t enough to loosen stiff, sore muscles. She slept some more. When she was awake all she could think of was the thirst that plagued her. She saw pools of water just out of her reach and wanted to cry to someone to give her some. She wanted to. She couldn’t. Please. Please. Please.

“Want something to wet those parched lips, Gygr?” She lay on her side on the ground Belum squatting beside her. “Gonna have to beg for it.” He waited. “Well,” he stood and looked down at the girl, “you just let me know.”

“Please.”

“What?”

“Please. Water.”

“Please? Is that all? Just please?”

The girl struggled to her knees and held the man’s skinny legs as she looked up to his face. “Please.” The effort had nearly exhausted her and she panted for breath. “Belum, please.”

“No.” He pushed her away and lowered himself till they were eye to eye. “Please won’t cut it here. You have to beg me. On hands and knees.” He rose and walked a short distance away smiling at his colleagues.

Again she struggled to her knees and crawled toward him where she rested her head on his boots. “Please. Belum. I beg you. I would like to have some water.” Tears formed but the girl held them back. I'll beg, but I won’t cry.

“Please.” She rocked her head from side to side, “please.”

“What Gygr?”

“I beg you. I would like to have some water.”

The young woman filled a mug from the waterskin and lifted the warrior’s head. “Here. Drink slow.” Tears ran down the older woman’s cheeks as she swallowed the, in her mind, auric liquid. She began to shiver again, her body convulsing uncontrollably. Teeth chattered behind blue lips as Emilie grabbed more skins to cover her friend.

“Feed her.” A bowl filled with thin white porridge was set before the starving girl and she lifted it to her mouth.

A big hand pushed her arms down and she turned to look into the black eyes of a dark brown man. “Slowly, or you’ll be sick.”

She nodded and forced herself to drink the watery stuff a mouthful at a time, counting to ten before the next. She thought at first her stomach would rebel but it stayed down.

The man looked down at the woman on the pallet and shook his head. “I have nothing that can help her. I’m sorry.”

“But you gave something to the guard?”

“I can only use the herbs for the soldiers.”

“But? . .”

He held up his hand, “Lumor is the commandant. He makes the rules. I can do nothing.”

“Well,” Emilie rose quickly, “I’ll just go talk to Lumor then.” The young woman marched to the door and opened it, “thank the gods for small favors, at least it stopped raining,” and closed it behind her.

“Well then what do I have to do to see the commandant?” Emilie was exasperated now. The guard refused to let her see Lumor and refused to give him a message requesting permission to speak with him.

“Commit an offense.” The man smirked.

“Commit an offense?” She looked at him in wonder. Then looked around the room. “Well is he in?” She nodded at the door behind the guard. “If I commit an offense I’d at least like to know if he’s in or not.”

He laughed, “yeah the commandant’s in his office. But I really don’t think you want to commit an offense.”

“Why not?’

The man’s eyes opened wide, “because little girl you’ll be punished. That’s the rules.”

She nodded her head, “but I’ll get to see the commandant before I’m punished. Won’t I?”

“Yeah,” the man nodded slowly.

“Good,” Emilie swung to her left, lifted a stool and slammed it toward the man’s head. He lifted his arm at the last second and deflected the blow.

“That’s it.” The man grabbed her and pulled her toward the outer door.

“Wait,” she screamed, “I thought you said I’d see the commandant?”

“You will,” he pulled her toward the door, “tomorrow.”

The young woman struggled and yelled, “no. No. I want to see him now.”

“Look,” the man twisted her arm behind her back and screamed “tomorrow.”

The inner door opened quickly and Lumor stepped out. “What is going on here?”

Both Emilie and the guard started speaking at once and the commandant had to yell for quiet.

Emilie sat before the man’s desk. “She’s sick because she saved your guard.” Tears escaped and trailed down her cheeks. “I don’t think that’s fair. She could have let him just drown. And she could have killed all of you when she had the chance on our way here. But she didn’t.”

“Tellis,” the commandant turned to the guard, “tell Stamos to take care of the gladiator as if she was one of our own.” The guard nodded his head and left.

“All right. Your friend will be taken care of. I hope it’s worth the punishment.”

“Punishment?”

“The punishment for hitting a guard at Number One is ten lashes.” He sat back in his chair and watched as the color drained from the young woman’s face.

She swallowed and looked into his eyes. “Yes. When she gets better it will be worth it.” She tried to keep her hands from shaking in her lap. “When,” she whispered.

“In the morning. Until then you can go and take care of your friend.” He stood and took her arm. “I’ll know where to find you.”

She nodded and opened the door. “Um,” she turned and looked up at the man, “thank you,” and quickly left.

Stamos had the potion mixed and was lifting the warrior so she could drink it when the young woman returned. “Here, I’ll hold her up while you give it to her.”

Carefully Emilie settled the mug against the gladiator’s lips. “Drink this Gygr, it will make you feel better.” She smiled when the warrior began swallowing the liquid and brushed her short damp hair with her fingers. “Good. Good. A little more.” Stamos moved aside to lay the patient back onto the pallet. “No, just let her head rest on me,” Emilie moved so her back was against the wall with Gygr’s head and shoulders resting against her chest.

“Isn’t she too heavy?”

“Never.” The young woman held her friend speaking to her in whispers no one could hear. Eventually both fell asleep.

Belum stood over the girl and smiled. “You know Gygr I’m really enjoying having you here. I lost 25 sengli when you beat Astrius. Now I get to take it out on you.” He kicked the kneeling figure in the ribs. She rolled with it avoiding broken bones. “Stand her up.” Hands pulled her roughly to her feet and the pain from the cramped muscles almost made her pass out. “Take her back to her tunnel.”

She was reattached to Patch and continued the digging. She noticed there had been little headway since she’d left. “So what’d they do?”

“Shut up and dig.” She fell into a rhythm pulling the dirt away allowing it to fall at her knees then scooping it into the basket. She worked one side with Patch to her right. His side never seemed to get much deeper. Twice a day they were fed the thin porridge and slaves with waterskins came by often to give them water.

Days turned into weeks. Both Patch and Gygr lost weight and found themselves hungry all the time. Several times Patch would try to steal her food only to find himself taking extra unplanned naps courtesy of her fist. Monthly the mine commandant would inspect the tunnels. It was expected the tunnels were deepened at least one body length each month. It was also expected each slave contributed an equal portion of work. Gygr’s side of the tunnel was the proper length but Patch had only made half the progress. During the inspection they were to stand in front of their side of the tunnel so the commandant knew who did what. Gygr stepped before her side and waited for the commandant. Patch slipped behind her just as the man approached and moved to her right.

Mimar, the commandant of Number Four stood before them and looked at the tunnel. “You’re Gygr aren’t you?”

The gladiator nodded.

“Which side is yours?”

She lifted her right hand, “my right, your left.”

He looked to Patch, “and which side is yours?”

The slave swallowed, “my right your left master.”

“That’s a lie,” Gygr’s eyes blazed.

“What happened to your face?” The bruises still showed from Gygr’s last enforced nap.

“She hits me and steals my food master.”

Mimar turned his attention to the gladiator. “Is this true?”

“Yes I hit him. No I do not take his food.”

“Belum,” the guard stood at attention beside the commandant, “who is the liar here?”

The fat man smirked, “Gygr commandant.”

“Three days in the box.” Mimar turned and moved on to the next tunnel.

Gygr was silent as they removed the ankle chain and led her away. No. No. Gods please no. Please.

Emilie held the woman tightly around her chest and whispered to her, “Gygr you’re safe. It’s all right.” She brushed her fingers over the warrior’s forehead and rocked her. “Shhhh, you’re safe. Shhhh.” She stroked her cheeks and arms until the woman fell back to sleep. Emilie kissed the top of her head and leaned back against the wall closing her eyes.

Lumor and Tellis had witnessed the incident as the commandant spoke quietly with Stamos. The physician nodded to the men as he opened the door for them.

He knelt beside the warrior and felt her cheek. A tad cooler. Not enough though. Emilie opened her eyes and tears were released onto her cheeks. “Time for another potion,” the man said and went to the table to mix it. After the mug was emptied into their patient Stamos rose and looked down at the young woman. “You should go stretch your legs. Get something to eat. You’ll be no good to her if you get sick.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. Stamos lifted the heavy warrior and gently laid her back onto the pallet. “I have to go see Lumor anyway.” Slowly she stretched and left the room.

Tellis helped Emilie to the infirmary after the punishment had been carried out. Stamos cared for her back, cleaning the wounds and tenderly applying salve onto them. After drinking a mixture the physician had put together to minimize her pain, she cried herself to sleep.

The girl was again chained to Patch and she continued pulling the earth from the tunnel and patting it into the baskets. She was hungry and thirsty. Gygr had not begged for water this time and it earned her a beating from Belum. Her left eye was completely swollen shut and her lips hurt from the cracks and bloodied cuts. The water bearers appeared more often and she was urged to drink slowly. Patch stole her first meal of thin porridge and she didn’t care.

Days went by and she got into the habit of leaving some of her porridge for Patch. She began to feel sorry for the man who was obviously loosing weight more quickly than herself. She supplemented her diet by eating dirt when she was inside the tunnels. Well it works for plants, why not people.

She never realized when it started, but she suddenly became aware that Patch was no longer working on his side of the tunnel. He spent his time leaning against the tunnel wall behind her while she worked both sides. He was sick. Very sick. It was then she noted that many of the other tunnel diggers were also ill. When they started convulsing and dying the guards became worried. So was Gygr. The convulsions would often last for days and it seemed once they started death was a forgone conclusion. Water bearers stopped coming regularly and full skins were dropped at the front of each tunnel each morning. One morning Patch went into convulsions his eyes rolling back into his head. The man was in agony.

The girl never liked Patch. But she felt sorry for the man. He was a weak fellow and not just physically. She had discovered he was educated and enslaved when a rumor was circulated that he’d been organizing a revolt against Jauka. Even Gygr knew the man would be scared to death to say a word against the Emperor and that fear alone would keep his mouth and mind shut.

His agony continued throughout the day. Gygr gave him water and tried to keep him comfortable. He would go in and out of consciousness and shuttle back and forth from delirium to sanity. “Please, Gygr,” he looked into her blue eyes, “kill me. I know I’m going to die. I don’t want to go like that. Please.”

“Okay Patch.” He looked at her and smiled as she placed her big hands on each side of his face and quickly snapped his neck, killing him instantly.

His body was removed with many others that day and the girl was alone to work the tunnel. She never really minded being alone. It seemed to be a natural state for her. She tried to think what could have made everyone so sick. By now, even though not all died, every digger except her had become ill and she struggled to discover why. She was pulling dirt from over head and tossed a few clods into her mouth and stopped. The porridge. I haven’t been eating much of that disgusting stuff. Must be the porridge. Can’t be the water. I’ve been drinking lots of that. Yeah. The porridge.

Mimar again stood before the tunnel and the lone digger. “You’re short.” He stared at the girl as she stood straight before him not moving a muscle. “But I’ve decided you can forego the box if you participate in some entertainment for my men.” He took a step forward and looked into the bright blue eyes. “Interested?”

“Maybe.”

The commandant smiled, “not that kind of entertainment, Gygr. We don’t do that here.” He watched the girl blush. “I was thinking more along the lines of what you do in Creantlisto. Fight.”

Gods. “Go on.”

“We have several others who are here as punishment courtesy of Jauka. Losers spends time in the box, winners don’t.”

“Losers? Winners?”

“You are Gygr after all. I can’t put you against only one man.”

“How many?”

“Five.” He stood calmly looking at the girl standing before him. He’d seen her fight three men in the arena the last time he was in Creantlisto and marveled at her grace and speed. “Well?”

“No.”

“No? NO?” Mimar had never expected that and was stunned to say nothing of embarrassed that this slave would defy him in front of not only his men but other slaves. “There is no no Gygr. You will participate.” He motioned two men take her, “have her cleaned up and feed her.” He turned to the girl, “I look forward to this Gygr. Don’t disappoint me.”

Bris, Tang Te and Quella rode into the camp Tang at the reins of the wagon. Soldiers had already had slaves prepare an area for the banquet. Others were assigned to assist with the preparation and later serve and clean up.

The pigs were turned over to the slaves, all former cooks, who argued about the best way to season, cut, cook, and even present the them. Finally Bris stopped the heated discussion by appointing one person in charge of each pig and everyone was happy.

Quella sat with soldiers drinking cider and chatting about the possible profits to be made in Doria for a merchant. Bris had to smile to himself. Kid’s definitely got a future with this merchant thing.

Tang took the opportunity to examine the camp. Here and there a guard or soldier would stop by for a chat about nothing and anything. Just the opportunity to talk with someone who’d recently been to Alaistria was appreciated. The man asked seemingly innocuous questions which were answered freely. Nearly everyone was in camp, except for a patrol of twenty, who would return in the morning in plenty of time for the banquet the following night. Yes, there were extra weapons in the room that held the gold waiting for shipment. The gold was transported quarterly, next shipment two weeks hence. No, there weren’t many guards, Jauka's army did own the place and everyone knew the punishment to even approach a caravan was death. No muss, no fuss.

Bris had delivered some herbs to Stamos and learned what had led to both Emilie and Gygr being patients. It took every fiber of control to keep from becoming too interested in the two women. He recommended mixtures that would help each of them then retreated from the stifling room.

Emilie awoke to soft hands carefully rubbing salve into the wounds on her back. “I don’t think you’ll have scars,” Stamos voice was soft and gentle. “You were spared the heavy whip and Mistrol, as an expert, was ordered by Lumor to make the beating as light as possible.”

The young woman peeked up to the man and realized he was really much younger than she had originally thought. “Why?”

“Both Lumor and Tellis were impressed you would go to such lengths for a friend.” He smile, “they had to punish you, rules you know. But they also wanted to acknowledge your bravery.”

“Bravery?” She spit out the word. “Wasn’t bravery. Stupidity maybe. But definitely not bravery.”

He patted her arm, “She is doing better. Drink this and sleep some more. I assure you you will feel much better next time you wake up.” He held the mug to her lips and she drank the stuff.

“Yulgh, why does medicine always taste so awful.”

“Because if it didn’t most would stay sick just to get something nice to drink.”

“Yep, I can see that,” she yawned and laid her head on her arms falling into sleep within two breaths.

They were obviously not gladiators. Gygr felt sure three of them had never held a sword in their life and the other two she wasn’t sure about. The six were surrounded by soldiers who made a circle around them. Each of the six were armed with wooden swords. Not taking any chances are you Mimar. She smirked to herself and the men who were to be her opponents swallowed hard. Mimar. Mimar. You fool. Don’t you know I’ve killed with these.

“Not very sporting Mimar.” She pointed her weapon to the men before her, “they don’t even know who to hold it.”

“Ah then you’d like some better competition.”

“No. I’d like just to go back to work.”

“Of course, but after the entertainment.” Mimar smiled and five soldiers walked slowly into the ring. “So here is competition. You kill any of my men and the slave he represents dies. Understand?”

“Perfectly.” She glanced at each soldier and recognized these were probably among his best and their swords were definitely not made of wood. Oh gods. She didn’t recall seeing any of these men in the camp before. But then she’d spent the last two months in the tunnel so how would she know.

The slaves were moved to the side as the contest began. Gygr balanced the weapon in her hand and bent her knees getting into her fighting stance. Her feet were bare but the ground was level and covered with dirt softened by barefoot slaves trodding the area in a never-ending cycle. Two men split off from the others and approached slowly from different sides. Immediately she noted that the one on her right was lead footed and decided to concentrate on the other who, not surprisingly, took the first shot which she easily deflected forcing his arm back and opening his body for a kick to the groin which dropped him to his knees. As the man writhed in agony lead foot approached from behind. Easily she swirled into a roundhouse kick sending the man into his yelling mates.

The surrounding soldiers screamed to their comrades to kill the bitch. Gygr bounced lightly on the balls of her feet as she waited for the three to approach. The taller one made the first swing and she quickly stepped aside causing him to nearly fall. A quick breeze and rip of material at her back and she sent her leg thrusting backwards catching a man in the gut. Tall Man came back at her with a flurry of attacks which she deftly parried while trying to keep the last man in sight. She knew he was looking for an opportunity to blind side her. The skinny, little one tried to swing around to her back. She pressed the wooden sword into the dirt and kicked the man in the chest sending him to the ground with broken ribs.

Tall man retuned. He was good and it took some time to find his weakness. She saw Blind Side take a swing at her just as Tall Man again penetrated with a flurry. The deep gash in her thigh brought her to her knees and she rolled toward Blind Side sending a foot against his knee satisfied when she heard the pop it made when it broke. Tall Man stood over her and she rolled again into his legs sending him over her. More quickly than she had thought she’d risen and held her sword to the man’s neck. “It’s over Mimar.”

Emilie sat beside the woman and stroked her forehead. “She’s not as hot Stamos.”

“Yes. Let’s see if we can get her to take some broth.” The man lifted the gladiator and settled bear skins behind her back. “Try to wake her up. I’ll get the broth.”

“Gygr. Gygr wake up.” Emilie stroked the woman’s cheek and  ran her fingers through the short red hair. She saw muscles tense and then the sight of the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen in her life. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Her voice was scratchy and she turned to face the young woman and just look at the lovely face and green eyes that held her own.

“Stamos is getting some broth for you. Oh,” she looked up to see the man holding a bowl and spoon down for her to take. “Thanks,” she smiled and took them, then turned to her friend. “We’ll go slow. Okay?”

Gygr nodded and opened her mouth as the first spoonful headed her way. “Mmm, it’s good.” She closed her eyes and settled more comfortably against the skins.

Emilie fed her slowly. “I’m sorry Gygr.” Tears slowly fell from the young woman’s eyes.

“For what?” The warrior furrowed her brow and turned those blue eyes to Emilie. She lifted the young woman’s chin with her finger so they were eye to eye. “You did nothing Emilie.”

“It’s . . . it’s my fault. I couldn’t keep up and you were punished because of me. I’m just so sorry,” she dropped her head and began to sob.

Gygr gently removed the bowl from the young woman’s hands and set it aside “Emilie,” she whispered. “Emilie, look at me,” the tone made the young woman look up quickly. “You. Are. Not. At. Fault. Understand?” Slowly Emilie nodded. “I don’t ever want to hear you blaming yourself for things you have no control over. That’s pointless. We are in a bad situation, but I’ve been through it before.” She again lifted the younger woman’s chin, “there is nothing they can do to me that hasn’t been done before. Nothing.” She picked up the bowl and handed it to Emilie. “Now would you please feed me,” the warrior smiled and leaned her head back closing her eyes.

“Open,” Emilie fed the rest of the broth to the ailing gladiator and noted the woman had fallen asleep as soon as the bowl was empty. “Sleep my friend.” She kissed the woman lightly on the cheek and pulled the skin up to her neck then went to her own pallet and slept.

The pigs were cooking nicely, the aroma began to filter through the camp. Preparations continued, the banquet to begin just at sunset which was only a few hours away. Tang Te had taken the wagon to prepare and retrieve the casks of wine that would be consumed by the participants. Most of them anyway. The ten new casks were set aside at the back to be opened after the first ten had been emptied. Soldiers. They’ll drink anything. Still the men had purchased a very good wine since it would hide the taste of the sleeping drug best.

It was late afternoon when Emilie awoke to blue eyes looking down on her. “Hello,” the voice was the deep velvet she remembered.

“Hello.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine. How are you?” Emilie scratched her nose and tried to settle the sudden tumultuous feeling in her stomach. “You should probably have something to eat.” The young woman rose quickly, “I’ll get it for you.”

“Sure.” The woman lowered herself to Emilie’s pallet and rested against the wall leaning her head back, eyes closed.

Emilie stood over her friend for a moment taking in the long legs straight out before her, crossed at the ankles. She settled beside her and lifted the spoon, “open.” When the bowl was empty, “you want more?”

The warrior shook her head. “No. But thanks.” The infirmary had only a few small windows at the top of the walls and Gygr noted it was close to sunset. “You tired?”

“A little,” Emilie admitted.

“Here lay on my lap and sleep awhile.” It took every bit of control the gladiator had to make it come out nonchalantly. “Come on. I won’t bite.” She smile, “I promise.”

Slowly the young storyteller settled her head onto the woman’s thighs. She was immediately asleep.

Gygr brushed back the hair that was just beginning to get long enough to fall over Emilie’s forehead. Such beautiful hair she'd had. She leaned her head against the wall again and closed her eyes. Absently she stroked the young woman’s arm. So soft. So soft. She could see the stars that glistened beyond the widows and heard the raucous laughter of drunken men. They always sound the same. Hours passed and the laughter was replaced by snoring interspersed with quiet. Gygr looked down at her sleeping friend and saw something dark on the back of the woman’s top. Gently the gladiator lifted it and caught her breath at the reddened marks that crisscrossed her back. Black and blue marks covered the area as well.

A man with a sword entered the room and Gygr rose quickly attacking him. She held his neck in her hand and squeezed. The man tried to hit her with the hilt of the sword he held but she merely grabbed the hand and squeezed until he released it. “Gy. . .” He tried to speak, “Gyg . . . Gy . . . sto . . . me . . .Bris.”

The man collapsed at her feet and she grabbed the sword and stormed outside where another man met her. Immediately she attacked the enemy, “Gygr, stop.” They fought, the man stumbling back, “Gygr, Gygr.” He swung to his left and dropped to the ground, rolled to his side and rose quickly behind her.

The warrior felt the blow on her shoulder and she turned into a fist that sent her reeling back into the arms of someone who held her own behind her. She kicked at the approaching man striking him in the chest, then quickly bent over throwing the man who held her arms only to be grabbed by the second man. “Gygr,” she heard the familiar voice soft in her ear and immediately stopped.

“Bris?”

“Gods woman, don’t you ever look at who you’re attacking?”

“Of course I do.” She dropped her eyes and turned to the man slowly rising behind her, “Tang, gods I’m . . . .”

“Hey nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Tang silently walked into the darkness beyond the torches rubbing his chest.

“They beat her Bris.” Tears welled in her eyes and fell to her cheeks. “They hurt her.” She dropped her head to her old friend’s shoulder and sobbed. Bris was beyond words. Never had this person cried in his presence. Never. She’d been whipped, beaten, lost her closest friend in a fire, another to hate and fear and been burned herself. She never shed a tear.

“Yes, Little One. I know.” He held her for a long time. Finally the sobs turned into hiccups then sniffling.

“He promised, Bris.”

“Who?”

“Lumor promised she wouldn’t be harmed. He has no honor, Bris.”

“Gygr, drop it.”

“No.” She reached down and picked up the sword pulling away from the man who’d been her friend, mentor and protector for as long as she could remember. “No.” The warrior turned and stopped suddenly aware of the snoring men around her. “What? . .”

“We drugged their wine,” Bris smiled. "Now we free everyone and leave."

They heard the clanging of swords and ran towards the front of the cave where Tang Te and Ngano were fighting fiercely, the young former gladiator struggling to hold his own. Guards from within the cave hearing the swords began to run toward them lifting their own weapons.

Bris and Gygr faced them, easily disarming  or killing the ones foolish enough to try to attack, then turned to Ngano and Tang. The young gladiator lost his footing on a rock and Ngano took advantage of the man’s momentary unbalance and swung his sword across his chest. Tang’s eyes opened wide as he dropped his weapon and grabbed his chest blood squirting from the open heart.

Emilie heard the fighting outside the infirmary door. When she'd seen no one, but sleeping soldiers she followed the sound of swords clashing. Just as she rounded the corner of the infirmary she saw Tang fall and Ngano swing his sword across the man's chest.

“Tang,” Emilie screamed as she ran to the man’s side. “Oh Tang.” She held the young man to her chest his blood covering her and she sobbed. “Oh Tang.”

Both Gygr and Bris stood shocked for a moment while Ngano turned quickly and grabbed Emilie by the arm, roughly pulling the sobbing young woman to her feet. He held the sword to her throat, “just stay back.”

No more. No more. “You’re dead Ngano.” She took a step forward then stopped.

“I swear, I’ll slice her throat if you take one more step. I want a horse.”

Gygr stood staring at the man. Bris turned and spoke with a guard who’d given up very quickly. “It’s coming,” the man said.

“I’m just going to ride out of here.” He smirked as he watched the guard approach with a chestnut mare. “Step back Gygr.” He pulled the sword closer to Emilie’s neck drawing blood. “Back,” he hissed.

The warrior stepped back.

“More,” he shouted.

And she stepped back two more paces.

Ngano grabbed the reins and quickly swung into the saddle. “Remember me Gygr,” he laughed and swung his sword into Emilie’s neck.

“Nooooo,” Gygr ran to her friend and caught her body as the young woman’s head rolled away. In the back of her mind the warrior heard the maniacal laugh and the sound of hooves galloping away.