The plan started two days later with something as simple as Garren bumping into a guard. After a sharp blow and a reprimand, Garren reported back to Drew and handed over the pilfered ring of keys.
"He never even noticed!" Garren cackled.
Drew grinned and pocketed the keys. "Well done," he gave Garren a playful shove. "Now that I now how good of a pickpocket you are, I'll make sure to never let you near me." Snatching an apple from a passing gladiator and silently daring them to object, Drew continued in a serious tone. "But you're sure no one saw you?"
Garren waved away the question with a smirk, "Not a soul. The guards are too stupid to travel in pairs all the time." This lessened Drew's worry, but not by much.
"Alright," Drew said. "Get to training, Torr will be looking for you." As Garren left, Drew threw him the apple and received a crooked grin in exchange. Hopefully he'll get out tonight, Drew thought.
He looked towards the arena where a crowd gladiators were training. Every one of them knew that if they didn't learn, didn't master the art of fighting, they would die; possibly at the hands of an ally. It was a rather glorious sight, the coordinated fights. Their movements were graceful and fluid, sun glinted off metal, the clang of swords beat a rhythmic tattoo in the summer air. Drew turned away and prayed that he would never set eyes on that sight again.
They had spread the word across the whole arena, and only three accidents had to be arranged. There were many who hadn't committed to helping, but were waiting to see how things played out. We are all.
It was easy for Drew to just walk out of the bunkroom that night and make his way along the halls. He made it a fair way before a guard stopped him.
"What are you doin' out here Lethor?" Drew turned slowly to face the lone, unfortunate guard. Maybe he would have lived if he hadn't used that name Drew hated so much. Maybe.
As it was, he didn't even have time to scream before Drew clawed his throat out.
The first death of the night, Wolf said solemnly as Drew wiped his bloody hand on his breeches.
Wanna bet how many we get before the end of the night?
I'm not sure we should- That's when things went sideways.
Why do you have to be such an overconfident idiot? Wolf raged as Drew raced through the tunnels with two dozen guards at his heels.
The plan can still work!
If we don't get out of this I'll kill you!
"You can't get away Hawthorne!" Siderius yelled. "There's nowhere to go!" If he'd had the breath, Drew would've laughed. Instead he took a sharp left into the hall that held the Crazies.
Marty stuck a hand through the bars of his cell. With a deft movement, Drew tossed a key between the bars of a cell. Marty caught it before it hit the ground.
"Finally, a chance for us to stretch our legs," Marty said with a sick grin. He unlocked his door and started towards the next. Drew paused. He didn't want to leave Marty behind. If he couldn't free enough backup, it could end badly for the berserker. "Run idjit!" Marty snapped, noticing that Drew had stopped. "You don't want to be here when I let the rest of us out."
I agree with that statement, Wolf said.
Drew ran. It wasn't long before screams began echoing through the corridors.
Gladiators filled the corridors all intent on one thing: freedom. They knew they wouldn't all get away, and they'd agreed that, though they'd help each other as much as they could, in the end, it was every man for himself.
YOU ARE READING
Age of War: Book One - Alliance of Wolves
Fantasy"I wasn't raised to be a king, I was raised to be a monster." No truer words were ever spoken about Drew Hawthorne. Werewolf and gladiator, all he has ever known is death and hatred. Until one day he's given an opportunity, a purpose, by Roksov, lea...
