In His Arena 1: Slave Eternal Read Online Free PDF Page B

long as possible. They would play with Hektor, make a show of him.
    It was the only reason they hadn’t swarmed in to finish him.
    Gritting his teeth, Hektor dug in his heels, ignoring the scorch of sand on his bare feet, ignoring the blatting of iron horns and the announcement of the arena herald, “The primus palus is besieged!” The resulting rush of thunder from the crowd washed over him, buoyed him.
    And as the retiarius yanked harder, Hektor went with it, dashing forward with the momentum, bashing the man with his net-covered shield. The man came off his feet and hurtled backward into the sand. The cord from his wrist to the net snapped taut.
    With grim satisfaction, Hektor began to drag him in, his shoulders screaming, blood streaking his chest. The smaller man dug in as Hektor had, but Hektor was larger and more muscular—a provocator gladiator of Actaeon, House of Warriors, known for skill and showmanship.
    The three myrmidons advanced, but the barest gesture from the Empress halted them. Hektor did not pause to wonder. Clearly he had her fickle favor this day.
    He reeled the retiarius in. Desperate, the man scrambled for the dagger at his belt. The dull glint of iron was not lost on Hektor. If the man cut the cord, he would be free. With a shout, Hektor heaved back on the shield, yanking the man the remaining five feet. A calculated risk. He exposed his own chest.
    Smoothly, the retiarius stabbed for his ribs.
    Hektor sidestepped, let it go by.
    A thin line of fire printed a warning across his ribs. A trickle of blood mixed with his sweat. He grabbed the other man’s hand and bent his wrist, leveraging the knife away by its guard.
    The retiarius looked shocked when Hektor daggered him in the throat. Blood spurted onto the sand, and the cheers became deafening. Sans mercy. Hektor regretted it, but it was not his choice.
    It was the Empress’s.
    She gestured again, and the myrmidon waded into battle.
    Hektor backed off, trying desperately to free his shield as he took stock of his opponents. The myrmidon with the twin maces was tall, a burly man whose heavy bulk outmassed Hektor’s. The obvious leader, he wore a golden helm with a lion’s head, the crest a crimson mane. The second myrmidon was smaller, a lithe brother to the dead secutor, with his olive skin and twin katar, his griffin-head helm plumed with peacock feathers. The third bore no helm and little armor. Instead, he danced and cavorted low to the ground, moving with the sinuous speed of the wild beasts whose skins he wore. His bladed chain kicked up sand and flicked like a cat’s restless tail.
    Bloodied, fatigued, Hektor backed away, the dagger his only weapon.
    The three warriors formed a semicircle, trying to corral him back to the edge of the amphitheatre, where death upon jagged steel and iron awaited. Hektor did not have to look to see the broken blades embedded in the walls. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of weapons had been broken in the Empress’s Grand Theatre, their shards gathered and forged by the arena smiths into the Hail, a deadly perimeter of point and edge.
    A pitfall for the unwary.
    Nearing the wall for any reason was risky. Some of the wealthier spectators brought man-catchers, vicious polearms they used to grab and poke fighters who strayed too close to the wall. The praetorian guard allowed it. It made for good sport and riled the masses.
    The masses. They were the key. Jaded, bloodthirsty, they had seen Spectacle after gory Spectacle. With each victory, it became more and more difficult to gain their favor, and yet gaining their favor was everything. The difference between life and death.
    The three myrmidon came on, the beast-man dancing forward, his chain flicking and cutting the sand, keeping Hektor at bay, lashing at him. The other two saved their strength. Their weapons required close quarters. They would rush him when he flagged.
    He let the grimness of his face tell them he was desperate as he drew them in. Slowly, step