Each breath he took tasted of blood.
The scorching sun was as unforgiving as always but somehow felt heavier on his sweat drenched, aching body. The light armor given to them weighing on him with each swing of his sword. With each hit his shield blocked. With each narrow dodge of a half-dull blade.
He wonders how this became his life. Or perhaps this was always his life?
He couldn't remember. That alone wasn't strange, he hasn't been able to for months. Everything feels numb. The world has lost more of its color since yesterday. Since that happened. Since he—
It seemed that he had become sluggish while contemplating because a sharp pain rose from his leg where blood was running out of the newly acquired gash. This was not the time he told himself.
The roaring of the colosseum seemed stronger as he dropped his shield and held his sword with two hands. His opponent copied his moves, both shields left forgotten. He recognized the man in front of him, he was here for fraud. Betrayed the wrong people and they had sold him to the arena to earn some money from his winnings. Tolis. Tolis was a pudgy man that somehow survived two years in the arena. Rumor was he struck a deal with the match coordinator so his opponents were more on the lower end than the rest of the fighters.
Thinking about it, he supposed he was one himself after being in the hole for three days and two nights. Failed escape before it even started. He's yet to find the mole.
"How'd the hole treat ya Aphēmos?" Tolis could still grin out while throwing in attacks. Aphēmos' jaw tightened and almost lost concentration at the jab, surely it couldn't be him behind it. He didn't have that much influence over the colosseum.
The arena slowly started growing annoyed. This type of arena match wasn't supposed to be long. They just needed to be bloody and entertaining. Tolis seemed to realize they were losing the crowd and needed to do something soon. In the arena, if you weren't interesting on your own, they'd find a way and then,it wouldn't matter if there was a winner or none at all.
Tolis attempted to blind his opponent by kicking sand into his eyes. It partially worked. Aphēmos stumbled back, eyes stinging, and tried to clear his vision. He expected Tolis to attempt something but it wasn't like he was psychic to guess right. A kick at his side threw Aphēmos to the floor. "STAY DOWN!" The puggy man shouted kicking the other again and again.
Vision blurred and fresh blood flowed down the fallen man's mouth. Fear spiked in him. Was this how it ended? Not a last attempt at freedom but at the arena? By the hands of a criminal?
'We must fight till our very last breath' an echoed voice said to him in the distance. A familiar pair of caramel brown eyes looked at him from above his fallen form. 'For the sheep' he answered. Inhaling another deep breath that tasted of blood at the back of his throat, he quickly blocked the incoming sword at his side. He kicked Tolis' knees with crippling force and took his chance to stand up. He gave him no time to compose himself. The arena was no knight tournament, it was live or die. He put his full weight and strength into his attack and his sword's rusted blade came out bloodied from Tolis' back. His own heartbeat was the only thing he could hear as Tolis convulsed and clawed at him. Soon the other went limp and Aphēmos let go of the sword. More much needed breaths and he soon could hear the roaring screams from all over the colosseum. He'd survived another day.
...
He didn't even realize he'd been bathed and was already within the dining hall until someone approached him. Iasonas. Iasonas was openly known as the king's son born out of wedlock sent to the arena after his existence was known to the reigning queen. Compared to all other fighters, he was the bulkiest. An almost impossible feat considering he's been in the arena for five years.
"Alive I see" he said with a neutral look. When Aphēmos didn't reply he continued, taking a more cynic grin. "Too bad your friend couldn't make it. Then again, what could you expect from a criminal that wouldn't stick around to do his time" Aphēmos' head snapped to him but the other was already leaving.
His head was screaming at him. HE KILLED HIM. He knew he had killed him. Everyone in the arena was forced to kill his opponent once per month in the final round, ten victors out of 20. Noone asked to be sent here. It was futile to be upset at one who won to survive but Iosonas' grin spoke of no regret. Something clicked in his head. IT WAS HIM. HE WAS THE MOLE.
Without hesitation he walked after the royal b@$^@&! and kicked the back of his knee with enough force to make him kneel. He got a couple of good swings in while Iasonas was still confused as to what was happening before he fought back. "You betrayed us! You betrayed HIM!" he shouted while getting punched himself. Their fight broke others into fights of their own, the victor dining tables full of food their stomachs couldn't even down due to the near starvation they suffer while incarcerated at the arena forgotten or used as propel weapons. Guards eventually came in, apprehending everyone with aggressive movements…. all but the king's unofficial child Aphēmos noticed while they pried him off the man. "HE TRUSTED YOU" He yelled out earning himself a punch from a guard. The other man gave an amused nasal laugh, "and he paid the price for it".
...
The cell was pitch black. He could not even see his hand right before his eyes. They had put him back into the hole, like the name indicated, a circular cell underground. No lights, bed, or even straw as a minor comfort. Just like it had been a few nights ago. Just a few nights ago he was still with him….
In the silence of night Aphēmos let himself weep. "Thiseas" A gasped cry left his throat as hot tears flowed slowly down his face and into his forming beard. "I don't think I can do this," he whispered. "I don't even know why I should even try anymore".
The mix of the lack of light, the cold night air, and the day's exhaustion finally forced his body to shut down in fetal position. Wounds aching, bruises starting to bloom, and an internal ache threatening to devour him.
...
The guards threw in someone new into the cells. "Wait! Wait" the man pleaded. "What did I even do?!" he asked but it was futile. The man had a horrible sunburn, skin peeling all over and an angry red in tan unhealthy tint skin. "Please! Someone listen to me" he partially cried, partially groaned while sliding down against the cell bars.
"They're not going to listen, you know?' an amused voice said from the other corner in the cell. The other man was startled.
"Whoah whoah whoah, calm down now. My bad, didn't mean to frighten you". The man before him looked a few years older than him, an unhealthy skinny complexion that is more than likely caused by imprisonment for some time, but muscular arms and legs of a seasoned fighter. Unsure of whether the other was going to attack or not he stood closest to the cell bars and as far away from him.
They stayed quiet in their respective corners until hours passed. Eventually when the tension left the room the seasoned fighter stood into the light that leaked through the cell window. Shiny caramel eyes looked at him with kindness. "My name is Thiseas, who may you be?"He stayed quiet. "Why are you here? Murder? Theft? Fraud?" More silence answered the other man. "No…" he continued, "you don't seem like the type. Wrong place at the wrong time perhaps?" Thiseas had yet to get a reply by his new companion but he continued. "I'm in here for helping my sister and her children escape from her s#!^* husband". With more silence, the other finally gave and turned to his makeshift bed.
"I don't know why I'm here" he eventually mumbled. Thiseas turned to him immediately happy to get a reply but then frowned as the words sinked in. "I was found at sea. Couldn't remember anything so they assumed I was just a runaway prisoner." he said before the other could ask. Caramel eyes now fully facing him again he decided it wouldn't hurt to share more. "I can't remember my name". Those eyes showed pity and some slight suspicion. He couldn't blame him. He himself couldn't in good conscience say he's never done any wrong. Not when his memories only start from the moment they pulled him out of the water. "Well we can't just not call you anything….. Aphēmos". He looked up to a wide yet none vicious grin.
...
"Here's the plan" Thiseas whispered into Aphēmos' ear at the arena's training hall. "You try feeling out the guy by the maces, heard he's here for lockpicking and theft. He'd be helpful during the escape". Aphēmos peeked at him from the corner of his eye "And you?" A semi grimace formed in his face, "I'll go talk to the big ugly you see by the water pump. He's tried escaping before with a more promising result than any other, however the fact he's survived inside the arena for three years is suspicious". Aphēmos nodded. "You've only been here four months right?" he asked Thiseas. The other face grew dark, "yes, I've killed four men because of them". Right…. Each month survived meant more blood in your hands.
...
"What do you plan on doing after leaving this cursed place?" He finds himself asking Thiseas in the middle of the night after his second time surviving death at the arena. A deep nasal breathing indicating his companion was close to falling asleep later the other replies with ease. "First I plan to lay low for a while. Then I plan to search for my sister and niblings. Then….. Maybe buy land, have some sheep".
A laugh escapes Aphēmos. "Sheep?"
"Oh shush"
After a few beats Thiseas asks, "and you? What are you doing?" The question he was dreading was finally turned to him. "I-I….. I'm not sure. I've got no family that I know of. Heck, I don't even know where I'm from. All I remember is the arena…. and you".
A breathy laugh comes from Thiseas, "that's pretty depressing"
"Hmmm"
"Tell you what" Thiseas leans over Aphēmos, trying to look him in the eyes despite the poor lighting given by the moon. "You can come with me," he grinned.
"With you and the sheep?"
"With me and the sheep" He nodded his head as if it was a done deal. "You'll keep them from eating the grass too much and from falling off the cliff"
"Oh? There's a cliff now?"
"Yes! And—" Aphēmos had drifted to sleep that night to the sound of Thiseas excited whispers about a life in the farmside.
...
"Are you sure he should be involved?" He found himself questioning Thiseas one day. "I think so…. It makes sense for him to want to leave too" the other said while they were eating their rations.
"But he's the king's son".
"Unofficial son. Unofficial son who was thrown into the colosseum simply for his parentage"
Shaking his head he bit his tongue, he trusted Thiseas, he did. But he didn't trust that Iasonas fellow. He was too healthy for being here as long as he's been and that was without the fact he had connections with guards thanks to his father who still pities him for being sent there by his wife, the queen.
"Okay"
"Okay?"
"Okay" he nodded and gave a small smile at the caramel eyes that seemed to brighten.
...
"I'm sorry" a voice weakly said from somewhere in the darkness. "You have nothing to be sorry about. We both wanted to try". Thiseas had received a worse flogging than Aphēmos had for being the head of the operation. The plan had not even fully begun before their route was filled with guards. They were betrayed.
They had stuffed Thiseas and Aphēmos in the same hole after hurting every part of their body but enough that it wouldn't put them out of commission for the arena a few days from then. They were starved and left in a dark room for three days. Only thing they had for telling the time was the noise from the fighters starting their morning routine. Each other was what was keeping them grounded and from freezing from the cold night air.
Eventually the door at the top of their heads was opened, blinding them both. "Gladiators! To the arena". The main arena event was split into two days each month. Ten matches each day apart from the basic performances like chariot races and the sort. Thiseas was on the first day, Aphēmos the second.
Before they were split up Thiseas pushed their heads together, "We must fight till our very last breath" . Aphēmos smiled at him "for the sheep".