The statue's eyes opened.
Not slowly. Not dramatically. One moment they were carved stone, the next they burned with light the color of dying suns. Orange. Red. Ancient.
Every hunter in the room froze.
"What the fu—"
The statue moved.
Its head turned. Stone ground against stone with a sound that made Rome's teeth ache. Those burning eyes swept across the chamber, taking in the hunters, the scattered treasure, the greed written plain on every face.
Then it spoke.
"FURES. SACRILEGI. IUDICIUM VESTRUM ADEST."
The voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It resonated in Rome's chest. In his bones. In the hollow spaces behind his eyes.
"What did it say?" Kiona grabbed his arm. Her nails dug into his skin. "Rome, what did it say?"
"Fures... thieves." His mouth was dry. "Sacrilegi... defilers. Iudicium vestrum adest... your judgment... is here."
The other eleven statues opened their eyes.
Twelve pairs of burning light. Twelve hooded figures. Twelve judges staring down at seventeen hunters who had taken what wasn't theirs.
"DROP EVERYTHING!" Reyes's voice cracked. "DROP IT ALL, NOW!"
Bags hit the floor. Coins scattered. Gems bounced across stone. Hunters scrambled to empty their pockets, their backpacks, anything and everything they'd taken.
The statues didn't care.
"AURUM REDDI POTEST." The first statue spoke again. Its voice was a funeral bell. "SED TEMPUS NON POTEST."
"Gold can be returned." Rome translated without thinking. "But time cannot."
"UMBRA QUINTUM TETIGIT."
Rome's head snapped toward the pillar.
The shadow had crossed the fifth mark.
"OCULI APERTI SUNT."
Eyes have opened.
"IUDICIUM INCIPIT."
Judgment begins.
The floor disappeared.
Not crumbled. Not collapsed. Just... ceased to exist. One moment there was solid stone beneath their feet. The next there was nothing but darkness and the sickening sensation of falling.
Rome's stomach lurched into his throat.
Hunters screamed around him. Someone grabbed at his jacket. Missed. Tumbled past in a blur of flailing limbs.
This is how I die. Falling into a hole in a kobold dungeon. Calypso's going to kill me.
Wait, I'll already be dead.
She'll find a way.
Wind roared in his ears. The darkness swallowed everything. He couldn't see up. Couldn't see down. Couldn't tell how far they'd fallen or how much further they had to go.
Then light appeared below.
Not torchlight. Something harsher. Brighter. The kind of light that belonged in stadiums and arenas.
The ground rushed up to meet him.
Rome hit sand.
The impact drove the air from his lungs. He rolled. Tumbled. Came to a stop face-down with grit in his mouth and his entire body screaming.
Ow.
Ow ow ow.
Everything hurts. Is anything broken? Can I move my fingers? Can I move my toes?
Fingers moved. Toes moved. Small victories.
He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Spat sand. Blinked until his vision stopped swimming.
They were in a pit.
No. Not a pit. A coliseum.
Stone walls rose around them in a perfect circle, fifty feet high and lined with row after row of empty seats. Archways dotted the perimeter at ground level, dark passages leading to god knew where. The ceiling was just darkness, the hole they'd fallen through invisible from down here. Torches burned in sconces along the walls, casting everything in flickering orange light.
The sand beneath him was pale. Almost white.
Stained in patches with something darker.
Old blood. That's old blood. Wonderful.
Other hunters lay scattered across the arena floor. Some moved. Some didn't. Rome counted bodies. Fifteen. Sixteen.
Seventeen.
Everyone had made it down.
But not everyone was getting up.
"Rodriguez!" Someone screamed. "RODRIGUEZ!"
Rome turned his head.
The big man lay crumpled near the center of the arena. His hammer had landed a few feet away. His body was bent wrong. Neck at an angle that necks weren't supposed to bend.
He wasn't moving.
He wasn't breathing.
No.
"Patterson!" Another voice. Frantic. Breaking. "Patterson, wake up! WAKE UP!"
The old man was near the wall. Face down. A dark pool spreading beneath him.
No no no.
Rome forced himself to his feet. His legs shook. His head spun. But he was up. He was alive.
He looked around.
Reyes was on his knees, bleeding from a gash on his forehead. The spear woman was unconscious but breathing. The newbie kid was crying, actually crying, curled into a ball with his arms over his head.
And Kiona.
Where's Kiona?
"Rome."
Her voice. Weak. Close.
He spun around.
She lay ten feet away. Conscious. Alert. But her leg was bent beneath her at a bad angle, and when she tried to move, her face went white.
"Don't." He crossed the distance in three steps. Dropped to his knees beside her. "Don't move. Just stay still."
"My leg—"
"I know. I see it. Just don't—"
"SILENTIUM."
The voice boomed from everywhere at once.
Rome's head snapped up.
A figure stood in one of the archways. Taller than the statues above. Broader. Its armor was black iron, pitted with age, decorated with symbols that hurt to look at directly. A helmet covered its face, featureless except for two slits where eyes should be.
Light burned behind those slits. The same dying-sun orange as the statues.
"FURES ET SACRILEGI." It stepped into the arena. The ground shook with each footfall. "IN ARENA IUDICII STATIS."
"Thieves and defilers." Rome's throat was raw. "You stand in the arena of judgment."
"HIC NON EST FUGA."
"There is no escape here."
"HIC NON EST MISERICORDIA."
"There is no mercy here."
"SOLA MORS."
"Only death."
The armored figure raised one hand. In it was a sword the length of a car. Black metal. Edges that seemed to drink the light.
"DIMICABITIS."
Rome knew this word. Didn't need to translate it.
You will fight.
"ET MORIEMINI."
And you will die.
More figures emerged from the archways. Smaller than the first. Human-sized. But their armor was the same black iron. Their weapons were the same lightless metal. Their eyes burned with the same ancient fire.
One. Two. Five. Ten.
Twenty soldiers surrounded the arena.
Against seventeen hunters.
No.
Rome looked at the bodies again. Rodriguez. Patterson. Two others who hadn't survived the fall.
Thirteen hunters. Against twenty soldiers. With a giant as their commander.
We're going to die here.
The thought was calm. Almost peaceful. The kind of clarity that came when the situation was so bad that panic stopped being an option.
We're all going to die in this stupid hole because we got greedy.
Because I voted to continue.
Because I wanted to buy Calypso a car.
He looked down at Kiona. At her leg. At the fear in her eyes that she was trying so hard to hide.
No.
Something shifted in his chest.
No, that's not how this ends.
He stood up.
"PRIMUS PROVOCATOR." The armored giant pointed its sword at the hunters. "QUIS STABIT?"
"First challenger." Rome's voice was steady. How was his voice steady? "Who will stand?"
Silence.
The surviving hunters looked at each other. Looked at the soldiers. Looked at the giant.
Nobody moved.
Cowards.
No. That's not fair. They're scared. Anyone would be scared.
I'm scared.
But someone has to do something.
Rome stepped forward.
"EGO." The Latin came easier now. Like his grandfather was guiding his tongue. "EGO STABO."
I will.
I will stand.
The giant's helmet tilted. Those burning eyes fixed on him. For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then it laughed.
The sound was horrible. Metal scraping stone. A tomb opening after a thousand years.
"PARVUS FUR." It pointed its sword at Rome. "TAM AUDAX. TAM STULTUS."
Little thief. So bold. So foolish.
"SIC FIAT."
So be it.
One of the soldiers stepped into the arena. Drew its sword. Took a fighting stance.
This is so far above my pay grade it's not even funny.
But if I can buy time...
If I can keep their attention...
Maybe someone can find a way out.