5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
T hrax
The new room they moved me to is quieter, more private. The smells are as harsh as the first room but, thank the gods, those irritating beeps are gone. Even the bedding is strange. I have run my hands over it many times and have yet to find a bed bug, hole, or tear. The weave is barely visible and so perfect it is like spilled cream. I’ve lost track of time, drifting in and out of sleep as my body slowly, bit by bit, regains its strength.
A part of me wonders if other slaves will join me in sharing this room once I am well again. The house I find myself in is strange and I have yet to see the mark of the domina on any of the strange people wearing masks.
The door opens, and Varro enters. As the only familiar face in this strange world, his presence brings a taste of relief, though the tension in his jaw and the unreadable look in his eyes tell me that whatever he has to say, I may not want to hear.
“How are you feeling, my friend?” he asks, pulling up a chair beside my bed. I notice he no longer wears the mask he claimed was to protect me from illness. Why did he need it then, but not now? The question lingers, but I don’t voice it. There are too many things I don’t understand, too many questions I can’t ask.
I wait for him to speak because, surrounded by so many strange things, I don’t know what to pay attention to or how to answer his question .
Varro leans forward, his eyes searching mine. “I know you must have questions. I’m here to answer them, if you’re ready.”
Although my heart hammers inside my chest, I nod slowly. I’ve stared down three armed men at a time in the arena. Whatever he has to say, surely I can handle it.
“We survived the shipwreck,” Varro begins, his voice gentle. “But not in the way you might think. The cold… it preserved us, froze us. Kept us alive.”
I furrow my brow, trying to understand. Varro quietly watches as though he’s waiting for me to figure it out. Then it strikes me. “How long?” The words come out in a scratchy rasp.
I brace myself as Varro takes a deep breath. “Longer than you can imagine, Thrax. The world has changed in ways that will be hard to understand at first.”
As he speaks, painting a picture of a world I can scarcely believe, my chest aches, worse than when that man from Germania struck me in the chest with a war hammer. My slick palms grip the smooth bedding beneath my fingers.
Horseless chariots that move faster than the wind. Buildings that scrape the sky. Devices that can capture a person’s likeness in an instant. A metal box that heats food with no fire.
“There are even great metal birds that carry people through the air,” Varro says, his eyes alight with wonder. “They call them airplanes. I’ve been in one. Crossed the great ocean in less than a day.”
I shake my head and dizziness hits me so hard I have to slam my lids closed. That sounded like the ravings of a madman, or maybe the fever dreams of a dying man. But Varro’s steady gaze—and a glance at all the unusual objects in my room—tells me it’s all true.
“How?” I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Varro’s expression grows solemn. “Thrax. Even with all their magical machines and abilities, they say they have no idea how we survived. I have a theory that there was something in the priestess’s potion that we drank on the docks of Ostia before we set sail, but it’s just an idea in my head.” He pauses, and my muscles tense as I prepare myself for a blow. Finally, he tells me the information I’ve been waiting to hear. “We’ve been asleep for nearly two thousand years.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Two thousand years? It’s impossible. Unthinkable. My mind can’t fathom the world he just described.
I wipe my palm across my mouth as I try to control the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. My throat tightens and I swallow hard, trying to keep my food from erupting from my throat. Two thousand years. Everyone I’ve ever known, every place I’ve ever been—gone. Dust. I am truly, utterly alone except for the man at my bedside.
When I open my eyes, Varro’s face is lined with concern. I try not to let him see the war of emotions raging inside me. I’ve spent a lifetime hiding my feelings; this is no different.
“Are you alright?” Varro asks, reaching out to touch my arm.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. My mind races, trying to grasp what I’ve been told. Two thousand years. How does a mind as dumb as mine grasp such a thing? He’s describing a world beyond anything I could have imagined.
“There’s more.” Though his voice is gentle, I brace myself for another blow, but this time he’s smiling. “In this new world, we’re not slaves anymore. We’re free men , Thrax.”
Free. The word echoes in my mind, foreign and frightening. What does freedom mean to a man who’s known nothing but slavery? Who am I, if not a slave, a gladiator, a thing to be used until I die on the sands of an arena?
I clench my fists to hide their trembling. “What… what happens now?” I manage to ask, my voice hoarse.
Varro’s face softens with understanding. “Now, we learn. We adapt. I awakened over six months ago. In some ways, I had it easier than you. Laura and I were alone on an island. She told me about today’s world, but I saw only a few examples of it, so I had time to adjust before I was thrown into it. It won’t be easy, but you’ll manage. Look what you’ve already endured.”
He gives me a moment to consider his words and I realize my childhood, the ludus , and the horrible weeks at sea proved I can tolerate anything.
“And Thrax? We’re not alone.” He leans closer, his voice lowering. “There are others. Twelve more of our brothers from the Fortuna . They’ve been recovered from the sea, still frozen. They’re waiting their turn to be revived, just as you were.”
My eyes widen, a jolt of shock running through me. Others? The faces of my fellow gladiators flash through my mind: Quintus, Cassius, Flavius, Lucien, Victor. Could they truly be here, waiting to join us in this strange new world?
“Will they… will they all live?” I ask, hardly daring to hope.
Varro’s expression turns cautious. “We don’t know yet. But you’re alive, and the doctors are going to do everything they can to give them the same chance you and I had.”
I nod, overwhelmed by it all. Part of me wants to retreat into silence. I’ve coped this way since I was young, hiding away, keeping my thoughts to myself. But a tiny spark of something—hope, perhaps?—flickers to life in my chest.
As Varro continues to explain, painting a picture of the life that awaits us, I listen in silence. My body may have healed—they tell me I can start walking tomorrow—but I realize the true journey is just beginning.
For the first time in my life, I have a choice. And that, I realize, is the most terrifying thing of all. My heart races and I only realize I’m grinding my teeth when I feel the jolt of pain. But I lift my chin, determined not to let Varro see how deeply shaken I am.
Whatever comes next, I will face it as I’ve faced every challenge in my life—putting one foot in front of the other and doing whatever I need to survive.