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[Trillin]

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The Pits Of Jhelom

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The Escape

The telltale chanting of his arrival began, followed by the distinct sound of metal feet against the stone. With every step the hunger for freedom grew, and slowly he removed the spearhead from his boot. The metal gliding against his skin sent shivers of apprehension along his spine. He could almost feel the warmth of their blood pouring over him, but he needed to calm himself. He could not risk spooking the others and having them alert the guards to his plan. Thanatos looked to each, searching out their gaze in the dim light, the question burned in the red of his eye.

Thanatos was pleased when all those in the cell nodded their agreement.

The key clicked into the lock and the iron gate swung open. Thanatos stood, clutching the spearhead in one hand and making his way to the open door. He could feel the tension of the small crowd behind him, as they had almost no idea of what action he might take to secure their freedom.

Thanatos stepped forward, placing himself in the middle of the group of four guards. Familiar faces, men he had seen each time he had been summoned to the arena. But that did not matter to him. It would never matter to him, no matter how ‘well’ he knew these beings he deemed beneath him . The pale warrior stood in contrast to the dark armour of the guards surrounding him, staring dead ahead and hoping that those behind him would follow his lead and make his escape all the easier.

He let the spearhead slip down comfortably into his grip and quickly drew his elbow up and backward, listening for the sickening crack of the guards nose to his right. The guard stumbled backward into the open cell and the anger of abused gladiators inside. Thanatos followed through on the momentum and spun to brace his hands upon the chest of the guard previously behind him, and shoved the man backwards into the cell alongside his partner.

“Take them!” Thanatos shouted. He smiled as the two other guards were upon him, dragging him to the floor. His cellmates were now pinning the surprised and helpless guards to the ground. Fear had always been their weapon. And now, caught off guard and unprepared, their tool was being used against them. Both men, now frantically wrestling against their attackers, let out growls of frustration, only to have them silenced by a stone hard fists to their faces.

Thanatos turned, dragging the guards gripping tightly to his arms, along with him and shoving one guard toward the cell. This one, however, had a stickier grip than he had anticipated and the guard continued to cling to Thanatos’ frustration. It was then that the guard discovered the pilfered spearhead hiding in his grip. Their eyes met, and Thanatos smiled. The look contorting his features startled the guard and his grip loosened. Thanatos shoved him backward, shaking the guard off completely before curling his leg upward and landing a ferocious kick to the unfortunate guards stomach. The man doubled over and heaved, retching miserably before he was dragged down next to his fellows and summarily beaten into unconsciousness.

This left Thanatos’ spear laden hand free to drive toward the throat of his other assailant. Metal pierced flesh over and over as he shoved the pointed end of the spearhead repeatedly into the other man’s neck, opening it up to a tidal wave of the warm red fluid Thanatos loved to watch flow. The guard toppled lifeless to the floor, the blood pooling around his head. A bloody red halo forming as the man’s soul left him.

Cries of alarm could be heard ricocheting throughout the halls of the underground cells. The sounds of the scuffle had alerted the other guards, and metal against stone began to sound throughout the halls. The small group of cellmates, headed by Thanatos took off to the rear door. The door used to bring in new slaves to use in the arena, or to solicit the attentions of the male patrons of the arena above. They broke into a run and headed for the door, an easy run as most of the guards were stationed above, controlling the rowdy and drunk men and women here for the fights. Thanatos rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. He spread out his arms, stopping his followers without a word. A group of soldiers stood gossiping by the door. They back pedaled around the corner and waited. This group obviously hadn’t been alerted, but it wouldn’t take long, Thanatos knew. He signalled for the group to attack with him. Eager and trusting eyes, alight with the bloodlust they all often felt once they got past the fear. Thanatos brandished his spearhead, four of his companions lifted their stolen swords, and the lot of them charged around the corner.

The pale silhouette of the gladiator was the last that the guard closest to the corner saw out of the corner of his eye as Thanatos barrelled into him, knocking him back into the group of his comrades. Thanatos could hear the sound of metal on metal, could hear the cries of anguish as the blood of guards and prisoners alike collected at their feet.

The spearhead found its way into the eye socket of one unfortunate guard. It slid into his cranium with ease, and Thanatos relished it. He gripped the left over shaft of the spear and began to shuck the mans eye from his victims socket, but it the spearhead caught on his orbital bone, grinding against it as Thanatos tried to remove it. This gave one of the guards, currently drawing his sword from the belly of one of Thanatos’ makeshift allies, enough time to bear down on him. The guard swung his sword toward Thanatos, creating a shallow parting of flesh of the arm gripping the spearhead.

Rage coloured Thanatos’ face, twisting it into a feral snarl as he lunged for the guard. He grabbed at the man’s sword hand, gripping it tightly as he bashed it repeatedly against the wall. He could feel the guard’s bones turn to dust in his palm. He could almost feel the guard going into shock, as he watched him go limp and his eyes glaze over in pain. The sword fell from the now useless mess of the soldiers hand and clattered to the ground. Thanatos continued his assault, curling his fist and landing a blow to the guards windpipe. Knees buckling, coughing and heaving, and almost sick with pain the guard hit the ground, but defiance still burned in his eyes as he glared up at Thanatos. His useless wreck of a hand clutched at his throat. Thanatos reached for the fallen sword and drew it upward, holding it, two handed, above his head with the killing end focused on the kneeling man before him. His comrades had ceased their fighting and stood around him, their quarry lay dead and bloody among them, along with several of their original companions. Five left, including Thanatos. Soon to be four as he smiled down at the defiant man below.

“Take their armor. Their weapons, money, anything useful.” Said Thanatos before gripping the sword tightly and bringing it down, shoving the cold steel into the man’s chest and letting him drop.

The ashen warrior collected the keys from the soldier and smiling to himself. Soon these walls would no longer contain him.


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They waited, clad in stolen armour and weapons, silent and waiting for the shouting guards to pass them by. News of the escape had been contained by the guards, but the guard at the exits had been doubled, and everyone was suspicious. The meagre entertainment provided to placate the crowd was failing, and Thanatos could hear their unhappy words throughout the halls. He turned to the four behind him.

“Stand tall, arrogant. Walk with one hand resting lightly on the top of the hilt of your sword. Do not grip the hilt, it is a sign that you plan to attack. Should a guard look you in the eye only as you pass, greet them with a curt nod. Say nothing, do nothing that will draw suspicion, or we will all be lost. If we are separated, head west and meet at the graveyard.”

Thanatos’ words seemed to steel his fellows’ resolve. All four straightened, their faces going blank, confidence showing in their eyes. A shame. They listened so well, could follow orders obediently so far. It was unfortunate that he would not be keeping them as his underlings. The appropriated sword felt heavy in his hands. He ached to spill more blood with it.

The patrol passed and the group rounded the corner. Thanatos in the lead, two behind him and the last centered and walking in back. They walked together, through the corridors, past gossiping guards and unsuspecting slaves. Through the damp, headed for the light. They headed for the exit, could see the peasant-lined streets and anonymity beyond. One more obstacle. The heavy guard searching for his troupe, searching for him in order to satiate the hungry crowd now throwing near rotted fruit and ale into the arena in protest.

He approached, making as if to pass without interaction at all, but was stopped by four stony eyed men blocking his path.

“There are prisoners loose on the grounds, what business have you in the street?” Suspicion flickered in the leaders eyes, but Thanatos carried on with confidence.

“Orders. We are to check the surrounding area for signs of the prisoners’ escape into the street.” Thanatos let the words pass his lips with ease, meeting the guards searching gaze with his own fortitude. He could feel the men behind him, however, begin to grow uneasy with the length of time it took to receive an answer from the scrutinizing guard.

A moment too long, the hand of the youngest among them, covered in cold sweat, shifted to grip the hilt of his sword. The scrutiny of the guard stopping them flickered to the hand and back to Thanatos’ face, and realization dawned.

“ ‘TIS THE FUGIT-” Began the guard, but his words were cut short by the blade of Thanatos’ sword piercing his lungs. The guards remaining advanced on Thanatos’ small group, brandishing their weapons, pure determination in their eyes. Thanatos began hacking at the men in front of him, parrying blows of their swords and dodging between his foes. The men behind him fought as well, though Thanatos could tell they had begun to tire.

“Kill them, we cannot let them alert the others!” Thanatos grunted to his team as he flicked his wrist, spreading the flesh of his opponents neck.
A cry of pain and Thanatos turned to see the man who had initiated this confrontation topple to the ground. His fingers groped at the gaping wound in his chest, attempting to staunch the flow of the hot red lifeblood leaving him at an astounding rate. One less loose end to tie up. Thanatos smiled and shoved his sword to the hilt into the next guard in line. He held the man upright, drawing his sword back ever so slowly, relishing the flares of pain in the mans face as every inch of steel left him. Soon the others finished off the remaining guards, but the shout, though it had been cut off, had alerted many more to their location, and Thanatos could hear the pounding of metal heels approaching.

“The meeting place!” He shouted. He bolted into the street, removing his helmet and tossing it into the crowd. Sounds of frustration and angry calls resounded behind him. The others were following. This was acceptable to him, it would mean less hunting should one of them have decided not to show up at the cemetery. The group, now down to three, bobbed and ducked through the streets until they arrived at the cemetery. The guards had not been able to follow, had been to far behind to see which direction they had headed, and so Thanatos had some time before the search spread wide enough to include the cemetery.

Thankfully the cemetery was deserted, as few ever dared enter at dusk. Thanatos made his way deep into the forest of stone markers, slowly removing the deceased guard’s chest piece and bracers. He stood silently, watching the others recover from the sprint. They came to stand before him, one on either side.

“It worked…We’re free! But…where do we go from here, Thanatos? What is the plan?” One man spoke up, his breathing ragged.

Thanatos did not respond, merely stood, gazing between them, silent. His silence must have made them uneasy, as his fellow prisoners turned to each other, the question in their eyes.

As their collective gaze returned to Thanatos, surprise coloured their faces. The steel of Thanatos’ blade glinted in the dim light. One man’s hand came up, as if to stop the onslaught, but the blade cleaved through the flesh, spine, tissue and sinew of the necks of both men before either fully realized the betrayal. One single, fluid motion. Perfect. Thanatos was pleased. Warm blood sprayed his chest, and the body of the reaching man continued to fall. The palm of the outstretched hand slapped his chest, carving an ivory trench in the blood collecting there. No loose ends.
To be continued...