Free Wolf’s Empire: Gladiator by Claudia Christian and Morgan Grant Buchanan Page B

in? The referee called us to take up our positions center stage. The crowd grew silent.
    â€œShow me that I haven’t wasted my time on you,” Marcus said.
    My heart raced. Everything rested on this. I offered a silent prayer to Minerva. We donned our helmets, saluted one another, and then turned to salute the emperor.
    From down on the arena floor, the galaxy’s most powerful man seemed a long way off, but the moment he stood, the glass enclosing his private balcony magnified his image imposingly. As he was in attendance, we were bound to follow tradition and make the ancient call. We raised our weapons and together called out, We who are about to die salute you.
    Emperor Numerius raised his hand to return the salute. I’d heard that some people had a strong reaction to being in the presence of the emperor, but I was determined to keep a level head. Except the hand holding my discus was trembling and my heart rate was going through the roof. Deep breath, focus on the match. The slightest tremor could affect Orbis’ path and give Marcus the advantage.
    Marcus adopted his fighting stance and activated his shield. It was the energy projection of a full-length tower shield, tinted bronze and translucent, so he could see his opponent through it. It covered him head to toe; its shimmering surface featured a classical spiral styling that the Calpurnians favored to remind everyone of their ancient Gaulish origins. My armilla was just as capable of generating a shield as any other, but it generally didn’t suit my style of play and got in the way of casting and retrieving my discus, so I tended not to use it.
    The audience buzzed with excitement, eager for the no-holds-barred blood match to begin, and to have their say in its outcome.
    We faced off, the referee between us, hand raised and ready to signal the start of the fight. Marcus’ sword and my discus, deadly line and circle ready to clash. A tingling sensation passed across the skin of my palm as Orbis absorbed the sweat, improving my grip. This was just another opponent. Not my teacher, not a man I admired, not a fight for my life. Just another match. At the exact moment the referee cut down with his hand and stepped back, the image of my mother embracing Aulus as the flames burned them to cinders flashed into my mind. Then he yelled, “Fight!”
    I took Marcus at his word, no quarter, and threw my discus right at him, forcing him to take cover behind his shield. Marcus had always taught me to simultaneously play to my strengths while denying the opponent the opportunity to bring his to bear.
    Marcus surprised me by retreating, jumping up to the first platform and then heading up the stairs toward the second, challenging me to follow. He wanted to take the fight to the cross-shaped structures on the higher platform where there was less room to move. My best strategy would be to hold my ground, to wait him out, but I started after him at once. I couldn’t just stand around. A good arena match had to burn from the first clash and build in intensity. If I wanted to keep the audience on side, I had to keep up the pressure on my opponent, and if Marcus reached the second level as I tried to climb to the first, he’d have the high ground and could pin me down with his shield.
    As soon as my boots hit the second platform, he turned and charged. I cast Orbis to try to slow his advance, but he batted the discus aside at the last second, angling it away behind him so Orbis would take longer to return to my hand. I was exposed and unarmed. Marcus had closed the range between us to five feet by the time my weapon returned. I threw a new kind of cast I’d been practicing—a spin shot. As Marcus went to ward the discus away, Orbis nicked the edge of the tower shield and then spun about the shield’s edge, hitting Marcus’ shoulder guard. The force knocked my lanista off balance, sending him back onto one knee. Orbis returned, and I