Chapter 3: Volume 1 Chapter 3
Rhesus awoke, convulsively catching his breath as he desperately gasped for air. He sat up and looked around the dimly lit room. He wasn't unconscious very long, the events from the night still remained undiscovered.
Just outside, the clouds above were weeping as if crying for a lost love.
Rhesus wondered what happened to him before, to cause him to pass out when he touched the beam of light. He decided he would try to avoid stepping into the light again if possible. He stood up and immediately noticed that his leg no longer hurt. He looked at the wound and found it completely healed now, all but a green, shimmery scar remained. He caught a glimpse of his right arm and gasped. There had once been a deep scar there, an old wound from his battle on the slave ship when he fought to protect his baby sister. Now it was gone. He started inspecting the rest of his body and found it was completely unmarred. Scars from the arena, gladiator training, and his cruel master's whip were gone. All but his most recent wound, which looked less like a scar and more like a scaly tattoo, but with texture. Almost like dragon scales.
"No time to sit here and ponder it" he half-thought, half-whispered to himself. He needed to get out of the villa and quickly. First, he used water from the pool in the atrium to quickly rinse the blood from his long dark hair and tanned skin, then he found some of his master's clothing in another room. He slid a linen tunic over his head and let it roll down his body. He put a balteus with dangling leather straps around his waist, attached a bag to the left side, and filled it with coins. He attached a pugio, a roman dagger to the right side. He put a cloak on as well, to hide his face. He then walked back to the entrance of the villa. He took a careful peek out into the street and saw only a few people moving about. He walked outside into the rain, melded into the polygonal-block paved street, and made his escape.
Rhesus walked to the villa stable nearby and found a sturdy horse. It was a beautiful stallion, with black that went halfway up its legs before transforming into little black flecks mixed with grey, then fading away completely into a brilliant white body. His nose, mane, and tail looked the same. It reminded him of a Siamese cat he saw once at the arena after a large gladiator event. The feline sat on the lap of a fat, wealthy senator who made his wealth procuring eccentric foreign items.
He talked in a low soothing voice, as he stroked his face to calm him, then saddled and mounted the horse and left the stable. The rain stopped, but the sky was still dark and cloudy. He cautiously navigated the horse through the city streets that were beginning to fill with people, horses, and chariots. He headed north, away from the city at a speed as not to draw attention.
As he rode his horse, Rhesus thought about Sete. Rhesus and his infant sister Sete was purchased when he was in his thirteenth year. Slave traders acquired them from an opposing Thracian saxicoline tribe who devoured his village.
He recalled the journey on the slave ship. The rough waves which heaved the ship up and down and the salty air were not kind to him. Even the sound of the waves purged his stomach more than once.
He kept his sister alive during the journey, but barely. He had to share his sparse rations of bread and water with her. Some of the captives thought it would be a mercy to kill the child. "Feed her to the leviathan!" one of the ensnared stridently growled. "It's better than the fate that awaits her." Rhesus scowled at the man and kept her close to him to protect her. The handlers noticed his overly protective nature.
One night, the slave traders got bored and thought it would be welcomely entertaining to see him fight for the child's life. They were certainly not expecting him to win and it wouldn't be a cataclysm to lose a juvenile and a small tot.
"Come over here boy," one of the handlers said, as another of the slave traders handed him a dull, heavy sword and stood him in front of one of the largest, muscular slaves on the ship. It was raining and the waves rocked the ship violently, turning his stomach and making it hard to stay on his feet. Every time lightning struck, he could see the man's deep-set facial features and rain rippling down the bulging muscles on the slave's arms, chest, and exposed abdomen. The slave trader smiled maliciously and said "In order to save your sister you will have to stop this slave from ripping her apart with his bare hands." He then nodded at the slave to do as he commanded and immediately started taking bets from the other slave handlers watching. Rhesus could feel his legs tremble and he was paralyzed with fear. He could not just stand there and watch the only family he had left die.
Even though Rhesus was beyond scared, he found an inner strength at that moment. He felt a fire inside as he picked up the sword and steadied his feet firmly on the deck. He didn't want to, but he knew he had no choice but to try to kill the man. No, he had to do more than try!
As the obedient slave started walking towards Sete, adrenaline rushed through Rhesus's entire body giving him ethereal strength. Rhesus pointed the heavy sword, which now seemed lighter, defensively at the slave's chest. The slave gave him a sympathetic look and said "I'm sorry for what I am about to do, but I must" and then knocked him down with one quick swipe of his hand. Rhesus went head over feet on the deck, thumped his head on a wooden mast, and sliced open his left arm on a piece of metal that came loose from the mast during the storms. The slave confidently walked past him, thinking he knocked him out cold. Rhesus jumped back up to his feet quickly and without hesitation, he swung the sword at the man's thick neck. The dull sword ripped into the man's throat with a great, crushing force. The slave let out a short, loud bark of surprise and grabbed his throat as hot blood bubbled out through his fingers and down his exposed chest. He swung around and looked at Rhesus with wide gobsmacked eyes and fell to his knees on the rain-drenched deck, blood immediately pooling around him. Then, after a moment of desperate and final realization, he fell facedown, twitching as he departed.
The slave trader taking bets yelled, jumped, and danced. "Yes, the gods have blessed me with good fortune this evening." While the other slave handlers were grumbling and cursing at their losses and a bit shocked at the outcome. When the traders saw how undogmatically he fought and killed to protect his sister, they knew he would bring good coin from a gladiatorial Ludus.
The last time he saw Sete was upon arriving on the shores where they were auctioned off. His sister, thankfully purchased by a childless couple. He could see that they had affection in their eyes for her. Their actions upon receiving her were tender and nurturing. His heart felt a cumbersome weight lifted at the sight of it. That was the only reason he didn't fight for her freedom. He never took his eyes from her, even while he was being auctioned himself. He remembered her curly, light red hair, and crystal blue eyes. She would be in her fifteenth year now. He wondered where she was.
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