Page 98 of Firebird
“Until one is bested or yields!” boomed Igniculus, jarring me to the present. “Not to the death, Generals.”
“Of course, Caesar!” Ciprian called up to the stands.
“Julianus.”
I jerked my head sharply up to him. “Yes, Caesar.”
“Then you may begin!” He clapped his hands once, signaling the start.
The noble Romans, commoners, freedmen and women, and slaves filling the stands roared their excitement, thirsty for blood and violence.
So was I.
I circled him, my tail lashing the air in anticipation, my beast uncoiling from the deep. He’d been with me all night, satiating his lust for flesh, for his mate. Now it was time to satisfy our appetite for blood.
Ciprian attacked first, lunging with a hard strike of his sword. I deflected, the blade skating along mine as I pushed him back a step. Then I took my own first strike, but he was fast. As I expected. I planned to wind him, beat him down before I could draw first blood.
He spun away and swept his tail across the sand, flinging it into my face, blinding me. Before he could slash across my chest, I beat my wings and flew backward just out of reach, rubbing the gritty sand from my eyes. The crowd screamed with excitement at the near miss.
My uncle’s laugh carried across the open arena. With a thrust of my wings, I leaped into the air and drove downward, toppling Ciprian to the ground. His widened eyes of surprise thrilled the dragon in me as I beat him with the hilt of my sword across the jaw. Once, twice… on the third, he rolled and beat his wings to escape me into the air, then landed on the opposite side with a thud and scrape of his claws in the sand.
The small trickle of red at his lip had the beast growling inside me. Complete pleasure at the sight of it. But not enough.
I charged, dodging his initial swing and managed a swipe of my blade against the bone of his wing. A satisfying crack filled the air.
“Ahhh!” cried Ciprian, blood dripping from the wound.
“Oooooo!” shouted the crowd, loving the sight.
I chuckled as I circled again, whipping my gladius playfully through the air. “That shoulder’s gonna need suturing when you shift back.”
“On Juno’s cunt.” Ciprian spat a glob of red. “I’ll have your blood on the sand before we’re through.”
“You’ll be fucking dead before we’re through,” I promised.
He laughed, squaring off, his shoulders hunched as he readied to attack. “Now, now, Julian. Your uncle said no killing,” he taunted.
“Who said I plan to do it here and now?”
Then he lunged again. I was ready, gripping the handle of my gladius with both hands, I swung just as his blade clanged against mine. With a deft twist, I launched his sword out of his hand.
Ciprian growled in frustration and walked toward the attendants. “The trident!” he bawled.
The young man ran forward and gave him the new weapon while I marched to my own.
I waved my attendant over to bring me the three-pronged trident as well. He carried the weapon toward me, then leaped back suddenly.
With a rush of beating wings, Ciprian launched himself at me on a harsh cry, nearly stabbing me in the throat. He barely missed when I dodged right and swiped the tip of my gladius blade across the back of his thigh.
Even with scales, the sharp blade cut through the skin. Ciprian’s bellowing growl echoed to the skies.
“Bastard!” he yelled, his dark snout covered in blood, then he came at me again.
The clanging of trident against sword sounded through the stadium, the crowd completely enraptured, howling and screaming for more, for blood.
The sign of my opponent heaving deep breaths, weakening, seemed to rouse the beast within me. I launched forward at the same time I beat my wings hard and thrust both feet at his chest, sending him flailing and tumbling backward.
He pushed up onto his feet, stumbled and froze, winded and breathing heavily, seeming surprised by the hard blow. It was all I needed.
