Chapter 1

10 years later . . .

Krista looked down the dark and haunting tunnel which led to the amphitheater and felt a deep urge to run. Her survival instincts, which they had tried to beat out of her at every opportunity, came flooding back and every sinew in her body wanted to turn around and bolt it in the opposite direction. But then she remembered that there was nothing for her back there; this was her life now. 

"Remember," Lazarus walked up beside her and she felt those survival instincts begin to recede and the training take over. Turning to look at him Krista saw the way his face was taut with anxiety as he was about to let her go although he tried to hide it. She had fought before but this part never changed. "Fight with your head. Wear them down first and then strike."

Krista could hear the hundreds of people on the other side of the tunnel, waiting for their afternoon entertainment. The noise had frightened her at the beginning. It felt as if she was listening to a stampede of a blood thirsty sandal-wearing mob that were marching towards her to take her by the arm and lead her to Tartarus themselves but now it just felt like she was being called to work even though she may not be returning and then it felt like her funeral march. 

Turning to Lazarus, the only person left from her village after Commander Niclaus charged in with his horses and his army and slaughtered everything she held dear, Krista clasped his arm in hers, "I remember everything you taught me," she smiled, trying to appear braver than she was. 

"Come back," Lazarus pulled her against him and hugged her tightly like the daughter he had had taken from him and then the gong sounded and Krista was forced to untangle herself from her old friend. 

Turning back to face the front, she forced her feet slowly up the incline and towards the gate at the other end. As she exited the tunnel; her senses were instantly assaulted by the sun filled amphitheatre.

Freshly raked sand crunched beneath her boots and the scent of fresh blood filled her nostrils where it baked under the midday sun.

Krista was overwhelmed; her stomach was churning as her eyes took in a sea of blurred faces with mouths wide open as they chortled out cheers and other obscene remarks.

Krista was barely aware of a slave girl running forward from the walls and thrusting a pair of swords into her sweaty palms as she saw her opponent step forward from the light.

As she looked upon the other woman Krista noted that they were different in almost all aspects apart from the swords in their hands and the knowledge that in a few minutes one of them would be dead.

Krista's opponent was short and stout with chubby limbs and a mean scowl etched upon her brow, topped with a curly mass of blonde hair that blew into her eyes.

As opposed to Krista's long, lean figure with slight muscles and long dark hair she had been too vain to cut.

It reminded her of her mother too much.

The doors to the tunnels slid shut behind them, sounding like a hammer against their coffin.

Slaves pressed their faces against the bars to see into the arena, as the gladiatrixes turned and saluted the main box which contained the commander, Niclaus, and the governor who had sponsored the games.

It hardly made a difference since the governor was too interested in his slave girl to pay any attention to them upon the sand, forced to fight for their entertainment.

But Krista would win this battle and all the ones after. She would win her freedom and avenge her family.

The sight of Commander Niclaus, reclining in his chair eating grapes, was her reminder of why she was here.

Spinning the swords in her palms, Krista cricked her neck from side to side as she turned and faced her adversary.

Dressed in simple cloth and boots; they harboured almost no armour, making them both vulnerable to attack.

The knowledge only heightened their nerves as they simply watched each other for a few moments.

Krista's opponent made the first move, a guttural cry breaking forth from her lips as she charged at Krista, kicking up the sand behind her.

Krista spun, dodging the woman's first strike as she blew past her and they circled each other once again.

The crowd was cheering around them, making the ground almost vibrate beneath their feet.

Tire her out. Krista was reminded of Lazarus's lessons as she merely blocked the stout woman's fierce blows, keeping herself light on her feet.

Krista's lack of opposition enticed the woman with early victory.

Clambering down on her swords, putting all of her strength behind her strikes, the woman was endowed with a false sense of security, as Krista ran from her advances.

Soon the woman was panting with exertion; their swords clanging in the dull afternoon heat as Krista finally saw her opportunity.

Blocking the blonde woman's swords, on either side of her neck, Krista lifted her leg and booted the woman squarely in the chest.

A collective gasp sounded in the audience as Krista made her first hit of the day.

No doubt they had favoured the blonde to win.

As her opponent stumbled to get her footing, she made the fatal mistake of dropping her arms, too exhausted to hold up her swords any longer.

Without hesitating, Krista swung her swords at the woman's neck from either side.

Krista grunted as she felt the woman's flesh give way to her blade.

Warm red blood squirted out onto Krista's chest as she sliced through bone and muscle, decapitating the woman's blond, scowled head from her body.

The crowd grew uncontrollable as they roared to their feet; stomping the ground as flowers were thrown into the sand of the arena.

The gladiatrix's head rested on the 'X' Krista's swords made, her wide blue eyes staring at Krista, before she pulled her swords apart and the head thumped to the ground beside her lifeless body.

Without waiting for anything, Krista threw the swords into the sand and headed back to her tunnel; a mixture of guilt, relief and joy bubbling under her skin.

* * *

Krista had the luxury of sharing her cell with Lazarus rather than the other women who she may one day face in the arena; the benefit of being recruited from the age of seven.

The Commander thought she loved him too much for saving her to run away.

Of course, it meant she was within earshot of some of the most foul and revolting men in history, because it wasn't just slaves who filled the Arena's it was criminals as well.

And one criminal, called Remus, who occupied the cell beside theirs, wouldn't last a day in the arena with his bone-thin arms and mad-eyed stare at things that weren't there.

He may have freaked Krista out but he was harmless compared to some of the murderers and rapists who she had come into conflict with on this side of the cells.

Lazarus had stood up for her on more than one occasion and rapists were killed before they even reached the arena.

It harmed their master's pockets when one of their men were killed, which meant they all went without a little less food for the next week but what was that compared to one less filthy soul in the world?

Her time in the cells had enabled Krista to learn some tricks of her own in the art of staying alive down in the bowels of the arena as a result of Commander Niclaus's deal with the governor.

The Commander housed his fighters in the governor's cells in exchange for looking in the opposite direction at the Governor's indiscretions.

It was just another day in the Roman Empire or so Krista thought when a guard unlocked the door to their cell, as she ate the last of her watered down stew.

"Krista," The guard pulled the door back, "The Commander wants to see you."

Lazarus gave her a concerned look as Krista set her bowl down and got to her feet, joining the guards on the opposite side of the bars.

Her heart began to pick up pace as she walked down past the cells and towards the exit which led to the Commander's room in the Governor's house.