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Foul moisture dewed the walls of the cell where Muriel was kept, but he was glad for it, as it brought with it some moss and a few insects. The little ecosystem gave him something to focus on, a distraction. The insects didn’t know about the cruelty of humans, and he envied their simple existence. The stone floor was littered with straw and a stone slab was all he had for a bed, a bench, a table. The noise of the others stored in this prison was a background hum he could tune out but not entirely ignore. He did not know their names, for they did not last long. They came and went, dead before the end of a single week, and only he remained. And so he lurked in his cell, stone on all sides but the barred door, and strove to untether his mind.
His attention was yanked back by the sound of jeering and wolf whistling from the other prisoners. He tried not to be curious, because it couldn’t be good, but still found himself peering through the bars.
It was a woman, bright as a tropical bird in her billowing, silky clothes. Escorted by an apathetic guard, she dodged the lecherous hands that groped for her from cell after cell. Chin held high, she ignored the vile propositions shouted at her.
Muriel continued to stare as the woman and the guard grew ever-closer to his cell. His eyes shifted uncomprehendingly as the guard’s key opened his door. They all stood in silence a beat, before the guard turned to leave. “Wait-” the woman began, but was cut off by the irritated guard.
“My orders were to bring you to the Scourge, not to babysit. I brought you. Now I’m goin’ back.”
The woman’s protests were ignored and only when the guard was truly gone did she turn, slowly, to Muriel. With wide eyes, she appraised him from the ground up. He was familiar with this process; he knew what he looked like. Huge, dangerous, lethal. More than a little intimidating, with his scars and muscles and chains. It was by design, as much a costume as anything provided for him to wear to the Colosseum. However, if the woman was afraid of him, she hid it well.
Brushing her knuckle against her lip, she muttered, “Please, sit down.”
“No,” he replied.
“Yes, please, if I’m to heal your injuries I have to be able to reach them. You are… taller than I expected.”
He scoffed. “I don’t need healing.”
“Count Lucio sent me to heal you, and that’s what I intend to do.” Her reply was sharp and firm.
It was a trick. Lucio did not care about his injuries. He had never been sent a healer before, and there was no reason to start now.
“Look, I’ll make it fast. I don’t like it here, and the sooner I can get back, the better.”
That, at least, he could understand. Reluctantly, Muriel sat on the stone slab, and the woman approached him cautiously. With him sitting, they were at eye level, and Muriel made a point to look anywhere else but back at her. With a muttered diagnostic spell, she examined , before asking, “Shoulder?”
One curt nod. She moved to his side and he felt healing magic knitting together where a handaxe had caught him. In his ear she breathed, “Are you Muriel?”
He flinched away, panic gripping him.
“It’s okay! Asra sent me,” she whispered.
Muriel’s mind lurched. Could it be true? One of Lucio’s traps? A loyalty test?
After an internal debate, he picked a question that should be safe.
“Is…he okay?”
“Yes. He told me to tell you to hang on. That he knows why you do this, and he is sorry.”
Bile rose in Muriel’s throat. He didn’t have an answer to that, so instead he asked, “Who are you?”
“My name is Luna. Asra is my master.”
“Master?”
“Teacher. I’m his apprentice.”
Since when? Muriel burned to know more but the guard’s thunderous footsteps silenced him. Luna rose.
“Still alive? I thought that brute would have eaten ya by now,” the guard said with a raspy laugh.
Luna glared at the guard. “I’m not afraid of him.”
“Ya should be. He tore that guy to shreds today. Barely looked human at the end, just gore left…”
Muriel squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to see Luna’s face.
He did not open them again until he heard retreating footsteps and he was once again alone in the damp cell.
~~~~
Luna returned each week. Her countenance was cool and distant; if Lucio had so much as a hint that she was kind to him, he would put an end to the visits. She would pass him letters from Asra, which he would read while she healed his wounds. When there was time, he would scratch a brief reply before the letter was once again hidden in Luna’s loose layers of clothing.
It became routine, a spot of reprieve in his hellish pattern.
One such day, as he dressed and prepared for another horrible battle, he was startled to hear the sound of racing footsteps. Why was she here? He felt self-conscious, horrified that she would see him in his foolish costume. At least this time, he didn’t have a stranger’s blood on him as well.
“Muriel!” she gasped. “If you want out of here, today is your chance.”
“What?”
“Lucio-he’s got the plague. The sickness Asra wrote about? Lucio contracted it. He isn’t watching you fight today.”
“Are you sure? Why would he still make me fight?”
“He doesn’t want people to know he’s sick. The show must go on…”
“I..I can’t..Asra…”
Luna squeezed her eyes shut, a pained wrinkle in her brow. “Asra left.”
“Left?”
“Vesuvia. He’s gone. Lucio can’t touch him.”
“He…left?”
“We fought. He wanted freedom from the plague, from Lucio. I can’t leave when I can still help people. So he…went without me.”
“You-Lucio can hurt you.”
She smiled sadly. “You're sweet. But Lucio is terrified of dying, and I’m the only magician he has left. He won’t hurt me. Whatever you choose, I can’t come here anymore. It took everything I had to get here today and my tricks won’t work again. Plus, I’ll be on full time plague duty. I wish I could help you more, my friend.”
“Luna…You’ll get sick.”
“There’s innocent people dying and no one knows how to stop it. There’s so few with any magic. It’s my duty to stay and try.”
Muriel stared, a lump growing in his throat that blocked any reply he might have made.
“Today.” She patted him affectionately. “Today is your best chance to run. I hope you take it. I have to go. Good luck, Muriel.”
She gave his arm a squeeze before leaving as quickly as she came.
~~~
As Muriel was escorted to the colosseum for another vile performance, his mind raced. Could it be true? Could Asra really have escaped? Would he just have left like that?
The crowd’s roar was just as deafening and bloodthirsty as ever. Muriel lifted his gaze to the box where Lucio always sat, but could not tell if it was really empty from his vantage point. The usual guards stood outside. He was either present or keeping up appearances. Could he risk it?
The line up was disorganized. The usual theatrics were absent, as if this performance were hastily thrown together. He dispatched the criminals thrown at him, but noted they were sent one at a time, rather than the large groups he was used to fighting.
The announcer’s voice rang out, Muriel’s only clue to what he would face next.
“Vesuvians! Behold as the Scourge will take on a savage beast from the southern forests! Fanged, rabid and strong as three men- should be a good challenge for our most brutal gladiator!”
The crowd surged and roared. A cage was brought out into the sand, and a sickly looking she-wolf dumped at his feet. She snarled at him, already wounded from her capture. He reluctantly prepared to kill her, for mercy and self preservation. But her eyes…her eyes were so full of sorrow.
“Kill it! Rip it apart, Scourge!” he heard amongst the screams of the audience.
Something inside him broke. What did it say about him, that after all the humans who had met their deaths at his hands, it was the yellow eyes of a she-wolf that did him in?
Do it, human coward. Kill me. But I will bite you as you do.
The wolf stared at him, and he stared back. With a deep breath, he sent up a prayer that Luna’s report was true: Asra was safe, that Lucio was gone. One chance…
With a roar of effort, he wrenched at the chains that held him. He thrashed and pulled until he felt the iron warp and snap. He clawed at the shackles themselves, but he had no way to remove them. The shackles would have to stay. The crowd nearest the arena surged and screamed, fleeing. The Scourge was breaking free, and they were terrified. Did they imagine he would tear through the colosseum, slaughtering them all one by one?
Muriel dropped to his knees before the wolf. She growled.
“Shh. I’m getting us out of here,” Muriel muttered. The wolf whined, but allowed herself to be lifted into his arms. Muriel ran for the entrance, where the guards put up a token effort to stop him. They quickly folded and fled as well. Muriel gave a thundering kick and burst through the gate.
Dazed, he rushed through the familiar alleys of Vesuvia. They looked much emptier than he remembered. The plague had ravaged the population.
He spared a glance at the castle, where Luna would be. He blinked back tears. She would be dead by month’s end if she stayed. She had been kind, a bright spot in endless darkness. He didn’t know people like her could exist at all. What a waste that her light would be snuffed out. Her words had given him what he needed to finally break free. Why hadn’t Asra tried harder to make her go?
The wolf whined, licking Muriel’s salty cheeks. He laughed, and it sounded as creaky as an old floorboard.
“What should I call you, girl?”
Keen yellow eyes regarded him. Names would have to wait. He shifted her weight before continuing his exodus of the city.
“Wanna stay with me in the forest, pup?”
He could build a cabin of some kind. He and the wolf could finally have peace and solitude. Vesuvia could burn for all he cared. It had never shown him one ounce of mercy.
The skyline vanished under the cover of trees.
“What about…Inanna?”
The chains that still hung from his wrists clinked in rhythm with Inanna’s wagging tail.