The master spy or Puss in the boot adventures

The revenge of Latina, Part 40

The combat between Latina and General Aurelius had taken on the air of a personal duel, the sounds of battle fading into the background as they faced each other across the blood-soaked sand. Aurelius was a skilled swordsman, his blade weaving a web of steel as he sought to keep the enraged gladiatrix at bay. But Latina fought with the strength of a berserker, each blow backed by years of bottled grief and fury.

"I remember you," Aurelius gritted out as they clashed. "That little girl, on the steps of her burning village. I should have made sure you were dead."

"You should have," Latina snarled. "It was your last mistake!"

With a scream of primal rage, she bulled inside his guard, slamming her spiked shield into his face. Aurelius reeled back, blood streaming from his shattered nose. Latina kicked his legs out from under him and pounced, slashing down with her sword.

At the last second, Aurelius rolled aside, the blade sparking off his breastplate. He regained his feet, wheezing, one hand pressed to his side where her shield spike had found a gap in his armor.

"You fight well, barbarian bitch," he spat. "But I have slain hundreds like you. You think you can best me? I, who have bathed in the blood of your people?"

"I will drown you in it," Latina promised grimly.

They crashed together again like storm waves, blades ringing. Latina punctuated each stroke with a cry torn from her battered soul.

"For my father!" she wailed. "My mother! My brothers and sisters!"

Aurelius gave ground before her onslaught, his parries becoming more desperate. The spectators howled and stamped, thrilling to the drama.

She flew at him in a whirlwind of flashing steel. Aurelius met her blow for blow, his technique precise and brutal. But there was a desperate edge to his defense. He was tiring, and Latina's berserker rage only seemed to grow.

The crowd howled, thrilling to the spectacle. In the Imperial box, a sly smile spread across the Emperor's face. He cared not who lived or died this day, so long as he was entertained.

Mer-Mer and his companions could only watch, tense and ready. This was Latina's fight, and to interfere would be to steal her long-awaited chance at retribution. The sand grew slick with blood and viscera beneath their feet.

Latina landed a vicious cut to Aurelius' thigh, staggering him. She pressed her advantage, hammering at his weakening guard, teeth bared in a rictus of vengeful glee. The general gave ground, desperately parrying. There was fear in his eyes now. He knew the end was near.

Mer-Mer and the others ringed the dueling pair, keeping the remaining beasts at bay. He could see the tears cutting tracks through the blood and grime on Latina's face. This was more than vengeance - it was a purging, a lancing of a festering wound left too long untreated.

High above in his box, the Emperor clapped his hands in glee. This was the kind of drama he lived for, the spectacle that made the games so irresistible. He cared not a whit that his general might fall - there were always more soldiers eager to take his place.

Latina saw her opening and lunged, her sword licking out like a serpent's tongue. Aurelius barely managed to deflect it, the edge scoring a line of crimson across his cheek. Latina followed up with a flurry of cuts, driving the general to his knees.

"Yield," Latina hissed, the point of her blade hovering over his heart. "Yield, and I will grant you the mercy of a quick death."

Aurelius spat a glob of blood at her feet. "Never," he growled. "A Roman general does not beg for his life from a barbarian bitch."

Latina's eyes flashed murder. "So be it," she snarled, raising her sword for the final blow.

But Mer-Mer saw the danger a heartbeat before it happened. One of the fallen guards, not quite dead, lurched up behind Latina with blade in hand. Mer-Mer reacted on pure instinct, reaching out with his shadow magic. A tendril of living darkness lashed out, piercing the guard's wrist. The sword fell from nerveless fingers.

Suddenly, with a deft twist of his blade, the general sent Latina's sword spinning from her grasp. A mailed fist to her jaw sent her sprawling to the ground, stunned. Aurelius loomed over her, sword poised for the killing blow.

"Now you die, barbarian bitch," he snarled. "Like you should have all those years ago."

Time seemed to freeze. Mer-Mer felt a yowling cry building in his throat, saw Shadow-Cat tensing to spring. They had come too far to let it end like this.

But Latina was not done. With a burst of desperate strength, she swept her legs out in a scything kick, knocking Aurelius' feet from under him. The general crashed to the sand in a clatter of armor.

Quick as a striking snake, Latina pounced atop him, a hidden dagger flashing in her hand. She buried the blade to the hilt in the gap beneath his chin, piercing deep. Aurelius convulsed once and went still, eyes wide and glassy.

A stunned silence fell over the arena, broken only by Latina's heaving breaths. Slowly, trembling with exhaustion and spent rage, the warrior-woman rose to her feet.

"Hear me, Rome!" she cried, casting her arms wide. "I am Latina of the Wolf Axe clan, and I have claimed my vengeance! 

The crowd went mad, leaping and howling.

The Emperor stood up. The whole crowd in the Colosseum fell silent.

If the Emperor raised his thumb up it meant life for the victor , if his thumb was down it meant death.

Spartacus, Ragnar, Latina . Shadowcat and Mer-Mer awaited their fate.

Life or death?

" Let them live, " cried some one." They fought bravely !"

" May they fight bravely!" , repeated the Emperor. "But...they killed a Roman general...And the penalty for that is death!"

The Emperor's thumb pointed at the cast and he shouted, " Archers!"

From behind the curtains, the Emperor's hidden archers jumped out .

Now who will save you, smiled the Emperor and gave the signal to fire .

A thick black shadow flowed from Mer-mer and enveloped his comrades, but it was too late...