The Warrior Race Trilogy BoxSet

by T. C. Edge

  Her head hit the rough wet sand. All went quiet and still.

  21

  Kira woke to a feeling of softness and rare comfort.

  The air was cool, the light dim, the cushioning beneath her frame supple and smooth.

  Her eyes broke open and the ache in her head quickly reappeared. She took in her surroundings with a frown.

  She wasn’t in the dungeon, but a small, finely appointed room. The walls were decorated in artistic patterns, the cornicing elaborate, the ceiling high and floor made of polished marble. There was a bed, on which she lay, and a table with a chair. There appeared to be a storage unit too, but little else.

  Her eyes swung straight for the heavy wooden door. She lifted her body and the ache in her head swelled. The instinctive movement of her hand brought fingers into contact with the side of her head where Shadow’s blow had struck. She had a smash gash, already sewn up and tended. She winced and headed for the exit.

  It was locked when she reached in, her legs slightly unsteady. She shook the handle a few times, then knocked. Nothing happened. She decided to retreat to the bed once more and lie back down, shutting her eyes to sooth the throb.

  It didn’t take long for the door to open. As she began to relive the fight with Shadow, her features coiling at the memory, she heard a key turn and the handle click, and then the door swung open.

  She sat up immediately, and saw a young girl come in. She held a tray with a flask and a cup, and a little bit of food – some fruit, meat, bread. Kira watched her set it down on the table near the bed. She poured some water into the cup and then, finally, turned her gaze on her.

  “Drink,” she said, passing Kira the cup.

  Kira did so, gulping the contents with such hunger that half seemed to spill down her clothes. She was only wearing her tunic, her red amour and robes removed, and weary body dressed only in white.

  “More?” asked the girl.

  Kira nodded, and she was given another cupful.

  That, too, was hastily consumed.

  On finishing, Kira finally found her voice.

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re in Master Domitian’s residence,” said the slave-girl. “The cells are in the building next door. You required personal attention and so were brought here.”

  Kira nodded to herself, and felt ashamed. She’d embarrassed herself out there. There was no escaping that.

  The girl took the cup back and stepped to the table.

  “There’s some food here, if you want it,” she said. “You’ve been unconscious for most of the night. Master Domitian will come and visit with you soon, once he’s awoken.”

  Kira had little to say. She held her head low as the girl looked at her with a measure of compassion. She looked young, younger than Kira perhaps, her hair dark and thick with curls, her skin brown and smooth. She stopped for a moment, and then smiled.

  “I heard what happened,” she said quietly. She stepped closer to the bed. “Master Lucius made you fight, didn’t he? He plays with people for fun. He’s cruel and unkind and…”

  She stopped herself short and glanced at the door. It was still ajar. When she looked back she’d stiffened her expression back up.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say this.”

  “It’s OK,” said Kira. “I won’t say anything.”

  The girl smiled and fetched a bunch of grapes from the table. She set them onto a little plate and brought them over.

  “These are good, soft and juicy. They’ll make you feel better.”

  She handed the plate to Kira.

  “Master Domitian wasn’t happy,” she went on. “He’s not like Master Lucius. He’s not a bad man.”

  Once more, Kira stayed silent. The man had taken her from her home, and was set to toss her into the arena like an animal to be hunted for sport. He wasn’t a good man by Kira’s estimations.

  The girl seemed to realise who she was talking to.

  “I know that makes no sense to you,” she said. “But it’s true. He’s just…just part of this world. He’s been good to me, that’s all I know.”

  She seemed to right herself again, and shook her head.

  “I’m sorry…my words are empty. I’ll be cheering for you, Kira,” she said. “I’m so sorry that you have to be here…”

  She smiled a comforting smile, an innocence in her dark eyes. Kira looked at her and saw a girl brainwashed into believing a lie. Into thinking that life here wasn’t so bad.

  She was a slave to a master. And good or not, Domitian was a man who traded in flesh and death. Kira had experience of such matters, and it gave her an aversion to human subjugation that could never be quelled. She’d known many slaves before, in many forms. This girl was just another.

  She said nothing, and could feel her eyes falling and darkening. She looked away from the girl, and heard her retreating and leaving the room without another word. The door was shut and locked. And Kira sat, stewing in shame and the realisation that here, in this city, so far from home, she was certainly going to die.

  The morning was the sort you often get after a storm. The air was crisp and clean, purged of its humidity. It held that familiar scent you get following a heavy rainfall, and everywhere the city sparkled with its residue as the sun lifted from the horizon and smiled upon the world.

  Dom, however, wasn’t smiling.

  He took his morning coffee on the balcony, having endured a poor night’s sleep, and cast his eyes on the yard. The sand was still slightly damp and dark, the awnings around the gallery dripping with glinting droplets as they caught the light. He drew a long breath and shook his head. He’d lost one contender yesterday and seen another suffer a minor injury. So far, it hadn’t been the most auspicious of starts to the latest campaign.

  But, for some reason, he felt numb to it all that morning. Shadow had certainly proven himself formidable, even enough to draw a compliment from Lucius’ lips – and that was no small feat. Yet, like the sky the previous night, there was a storm brewing in his head that served to dull all thoughts of victory over his rival. That morning, it all just felt so wrong. And he didn’t know why.

  Finishing off his coffee, he stepped inside. Silia, his servant, greeted him with a deferential bow.

  “Master Domitian, Kira woke not so long ago. I mentioned you’d be seeing her this morning, as you told me last night.”

  Dom nodded.

  “Yes, thank you, Silia. How did she seem?”

  “Better, sir. A bit drowsy.”

  “To be expected.” He nodded to her and she continued on with her duties, a slight spring to her step. Dom knew just why. Having suffered Lucius’ torrid company the previous night, all the servants of Dom’s household tended to be in high spirits following his departure.

  Pondering just how much his old friend had changed over the years, and just how they’d ever been as close as brothers in the first place, Dom moved down to the first floor and headed towards the rear of the residence. He found two guards outside a locked door. One opened it up, and he stepped into the small, dim bedroom. The guards followed him in.

  His eyes went straight for the bed, where Kira lay. The posture of her body didn’t inspire much confidence in Dom. In fact, it drew pity.

  She was lying on her side, face to the wall, legs slightly tucked up towards her chest. It wasn’t quite the foetal position, but it was close enough.

  He stepped forwards, gesturing for his guards to stay by the door. It wasn’t always advisable to get too close to his gladiators without protection nearby, and yet Dom felt no threat from Kira. He moved right up to her, and whispered softly.

  “Kira, are you awake?”

  He leaned over a little, just enough to catch sight of her side profile. A flash of green told him her eyes were open, though half covered by her eyebrows, locked into a pained frown.

  He drew back, and moved over to the table. He grabbed the chair and turned it to the bed, before taking a seat. Then, betraying his better judgement,
he looked to his guards.

  “Wait outside,” he said. “Shut the door.”

  The guards hesitated. The sternness of Dom’s expression meant the delay didn’t last long. Moments later, the door was being shut and Dom and Kira were alone and in silence. He laid his eyes on her once more, knowing that such a situation required a light touch. He’d dealt with such things before many times, and often had gladiators suffering bouts of anxiety, fear, and crippling doubt. Some, like Lucius, might react with violence to force action. He usually chose a more tactful approach depending upon the contender in question.

  “I apologise for yesterday,” he said, his voice filling the small room. “I shouldn’t have allowed Lucius to force my hand in my own ludus. You weren’t prepared to fight…”

  “I was prepared.”

  Kira’s voice cut through his, dark and cold. A new quiet descended, and settled for a few moments before being erased.

  “Go ahead,” said Dom, sensing she had something to say.

  He could sense it all, after all. Sense her shame, her embarrassment at being defeated. But above all, he could sense her fear and state of hopelessness. It sent a ripple of guilt through him. Getting this close to a contender was never sensible. But, with women particularly, he always found it difficult…

  “I attacked him,” whispered Kira. “I got myself into it. And I was fairly beaten. I’m going to die in the arena. I know that now.”

  She stayed on her side, facing away from him. Dom’s expression grew sorrowful, and the words that came surprised him.

  “You don’t know that,” he said. “You have a chance, Kira.”

  It was a lie. Or, at least, a statement of improbability. She had a chance, yes, that much was true. But so did everyone, technically speaking. He knew she was gifted, but this state of mind she was in would only get her killed. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy; if you believe you’re going to fail, then you always do.

  He could see her shaking her head. Otherwise, her body was entirely still.

  Dom drew a long breath and firmed up his voice. He quickly determined that the time for soft, comforting words was over. Kira required something else.

  “You have to believe in yourself,” he said, more resolutely and louder than before. “Are you a warrior, or not? Have you not defeated dozens of soldiers in battle? Have you ever even suffered a serious injury? I know you, Kira. I’ve been in your head, and I’ve seen what you can do, what you’ve done. You can dodge bullets. You can hit a scuttling cockroach with a knife from thirty yards. You move with as much athleticism and grace as anyone I’ve ever…”

  “Kidnapped.”

  Her voice shut him down again. It was darker, its edges sharp. He felt himself draw a little away as she turned her neck, those emerald eyes so intense.

  “Don’t talk about the things I’ve done, Domitian,” growled Kira. “I know what I’ve done. I was doing it all to save lives, to free a city of innocent people. I had a purpose, a destiny, and you stripped it away from me.” Her eyes fell in contemplation, and her voice went with it. “I…I don’t even know what’s happening back home. I don’t know whether we’ve won or lost.” Once again, green eyes raised and stared right at him. “You did that. You live only to ruin lives.”

  Dom’s heart had begun to pace as she spoke. A latent shame that he chose to suppress and ignore bubbled up inside him. He found himself turning his eyes away, unable to meet with hers. And for a short period of time, they stayed just like that.

  When Dom spoke again, he did so with a candour that he didn’t expect. He’d felt odd that morning, off colour. He really wasn’t being himself.

  “You’re right,” he said solemnly. “My role here is barbaric, I know that. But we all have our places in this world, Kira. Not everyone has the luxury of choice, not even someone like me.”

  Kira turned her eyes around the room, and an ironic smirk ran up her face.

  “Funny for you to speak of luxury,” she scolded. “You live in luxury, and yet you tell me you don’t have choice in your life. You’ll excuse me if I find that hard to believe.”

  “Believe what you wish,” came Dom’s voice. “You don’t know this city. You don’t know my mother. I only do as I’m required to do. I am not as free as I might appear.”

  Kira frowned, though refused to let her ire settle. She huffed.

  “What, am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

  “Of course not. I am merely here to make sure that you are fighting fit for the games and your state of mind is in order. Believe me, it’s for your own good to get your mental faculties in good shape. If you walk onto the sand with doubts in your head, you won’t survive long.”

  “Just…get out,” growled Kira, her vigour returning. “I don’t need a pep talk from the likes of you.”

  “It’s in your best interests,” countered Dom swiftly. He was happy to see the embers of Kira’s fire begin to crackle and spit once more. He held back a smile. “Only through victory will you be able to return to your war. And only in the arena will you be able to get your revenge on Shadow.”

  He inspected her, and could see the thoughts of fear within her mind return, battling with the rage and hate that was trying to stamp it back down.

  “Don’t go basing anything off of the bout last night,” he continued. “In the arena, you never know what’s going to happen. In another circumstance, you might have bested him. I know that about you, Kira…you have confidence in your powers. Don’t let a single defeat hamper that. It may just cost you your life...and your ticket home.”

  He watched her closely as he spoke, scanning her thoughts. His words were working, bringing her back around, refuelling her with that warrior spirit that he knew she had. Yet, his doubts about her remained, and he knew that seeding her would be difficult after the fight the previous night.

  Whatever sense of compassion he had for her, however he admired her fighting spirit, he couldn’t betray the structure of his own assessments and evaluations, nor the advice passed to him by Rufus and any other guards whose opinions he valued. In the end, he was compelled to follow the rules, and wasn’t permitted to give anyone special treatment, no matter how much he might wish to.

  So all he had were words. And words, Dom knew, were powerful. Last night, words from Lucius had goaded him into action. Perhaps a sly word from Shadow had done the same to enflame Raven’s wrath. And now, words of veiled support, of motivation, were being used to bring Kira back from the brink. Words of revenge, and of victory. Words of returning home.

  He saw her jaw stiffen, and her eyes fasten. He even thought he saw her nod.

  Oh, words were powerful indeed. But from Kira, no words were needed. Dom felt the state of her change, the frayed and loose strands of her emotions tightened back together. And in her mind, the fear she felt withdrew, replaced only with a need to claim her vengeance.

  Dom smiled.

  And though he didn’t say it, he looked upon Kira with a firm thought in mind.

  You’re my favourite, Kira. And above all others, I wish you the very best.

  22

  That morning, as the trainees exited from the stone building that housed the dungeons, Kira did the same from the main residence. It was an occurrence that had, in all the years of Dom’s ownership of the ludus, never been seen. And likely one that would never be seen again.

  Dom wasn’t, you see, in the habit of bringing contenders into his home during these early stages before the start of the games. He’d only done so with Kira through necessity and, though he mightn’t admit it, due to his soft spot for the girl. Regardless, it seemed to be the only option with the storm in such a wild, raucous mood, and Shadow brimming with some untamed desire to see Kira to the grave.

  Frankly, Dom wanted neither of them hurt, and he was also rather keen on them avoiding each other in the arena for as long as possible. Certainly, that would be the case in the early rounds, should they get through. Most interesting would be if and when they were forced to
work together. And that, Dom knew, was a very distinct possibility.

  Still, the previous night it would have served no one having them both down in the dungeons together. And as they all spilled out into the early morning light, and began climbing into their armour and combat gear, Dom made absolutely sure to set the record straight for them all.

  Standing atop the balcony, he issued a firm warning, laying it on thick.

  “Should either of you attempt to injure or kill one another, you will suffer the most severe punishment possible within this ludus. Suffice to say, you won’t make it onto the sands of the arena, and will see your lives stolen away right here instead.”

  He looked to Shadow, then to Kira, and made sure the message was sinking in.

  “Here in Neorome, we have a punishment called ‘the decimation’,” he continued. “As with much of our culture, we have borrowed it from our ancient ancestors, and tweaked it to our liking. To give you the abridged version of how it works, let me just tell you that if either of you receive such a sentence, you will be tied up here in the centre of the yard, and put to death by your fellow contenders using stones, clubs, and other blunt instruments.

  “I can assure you that death in the arena is far preferable, and should you die there, you will go down fighting with the crowd cheering your name. There is honour in the great Colosseum. There is no honour at all in dying by decimation, here in the yard tied to a post with no one to see you fall.”

  Dom swung his eyes over the two most likely candidates for such a punishment once more, before looking upon the rest.

  “That goes for you all. We lost a trainee yesterday, and were I in a less lenient mood, Shadow might be shackled right now awaiting his sentence. But, what clemency I had has now been spent. Act out of turn on your fellow trainees, and I will have no choice. Do you understand me?”