by T. C. Edge
"Of course," muttered Dom.
He was quite used to the form of the games. Often, the specific bouts for the following day wouldn't be announced to the lanistas like Dom and Lucius until the previous evening, giving them little time to prepare their gladiators. Hence the long nights and lack of sleep.
The general public, on the other hand, would only learn of the schedule the following morning. That was the official format, though it wasn't uncommon for news to leak sometime during the night, giving the revelling public a chance to debate the upcoming fights as they drank and ate and celebrated long into the evening.
In the end, Dom's mother had a great deal of control if she wanted to exercise it. Though she considered the games themselves sacrosanct, she was willing to bend the rules on occasion if it suited her. And given her deteriorating mental state, Dom wasn't quite sure of what she might do next.
Excusing Redmane and allowing him to fight the following day wasn't entirely unexpected. And Dom knew that, when the next day's bouts were announced, he was in for some more surprises.
The conceited look upon Lucius' face did little to refute those thoughts. Though his old friend's visage rarely left the expression behind to seek out another, there was an extra glint in his hazel eyes that told Dom he had something up his sleeve.
"Well, I suppose I'd better be off," said Dom, not willing to spend more time than he needed around these two. "Plenty of work to do."
Lucius smiled. Pontius barely seemed to be listening. He took note just in time as Dom performed the expected nod and prepared to move off.
"Prince Domitian," he said, bowing once more, before freeing himself from the conversation and walking away.
Lucius stood his ground for a moment.
"See you tomorrow," he said. "It's going to be a fun day, I can tell."
He smiled once more and then moved after his father, always trailing his step when the two of them were together. Dom watched them go with a flat expression that turned into a sneer of utter dislike. More and more, his distrust for the two of them had grown in recent years, rising in parallel with his mother's increasing madness.
As a modernist, Lord Pontius always wore the right look and made all the right noises in front of Vesper, but Dom was only too aware that he had a great many reservations with Vesper's manner of rule. He wasn't alone in that, of course. After all, Vesper's treatment of heretics to her rule was barbaric to say the least. Yet, Pontius' reservations went beyond that, his commitment to Vesper's traditionalist and archaic approach to the growth of the city well known to be lacking.
He wished for the city to evolve in line with the times, not continue to look to the past for inspiration. Vesper knew this, of course, but Pontius was smart enough to defer to her authority, his ability to charm her giving him a great deal of armour that was only toughened by his supreme wealth and influence across Neorome. In the end, Vesper had made certain concessions to ensure he stayed loyal. But now, she was growing more strained and less astute. And Dom knew full well that Pontius had taken note.
He took a goblet of wine from the table ahead, filling the flask himself. A servant came rushing to do the job for him, but he waved him away with a smile. He drained half the glass, and felt his insides relax, swaying his gaze back over the bloodied sand.
Already, the arena was mostly empty, and the cleaners and groundsmen were hard at work making sure the battlefield was fully restored for the next day's fighting. Dom stood at the end of the gallery and wondered just what that would entail. He took another swig and then set the cup to one side.
Then, with the sky turning red as the afternoon grew late, he turned and left the balcony.
42
Kira sat down her own personal alcove within the cells of the ludus, a territory that she now had all to herself. It was the same for the others. All had claimed a spot they enjoyed, and no one would venture there unless invited. By now, the cells were growing far less crowded. The last couple of days had seen plenty of gladiators leave this place and never return.
That suited Kira right down to the ground. As far as she saw it, this was a numbers game. Every death to another gladiator improved her chances of survival. It sounded callous, but when a contender from these cells didn't come back, she couldn't help but be glad.
That, however, wasn't the case right now. She sat with a feeling of nerves as the light from the barred windows above began to turn, covering the spectrum from a bright yellow glow towards a darker orange, and now venturing towards a quite ominous red. It was evening time, or fast approaching, and the three gladiators who'd left to fight that day - Leewood, Malvo, and Finn - were set to be returning any time now.
It wasn't the former two whom occupied Kira's thoughts, however, but the latter. Leewood and Malvo were both quite capable of coming through their bouts with ease, and Kira didn't much care whether they did or not. Finn, however, was as yet untested, and though their burgeoning friendship had been somewhat frosty over the previous few days, Kira couldn't help but sit and worry about his safe return.
It was counterintuitive, and she knew it. Survival today against a lesser gladiator would probably only prolong the inevitable. She knew it. Finn seemed to know it too. But still, Kira's protective streak was coming back out, and she was unable to hide the fact that she craved the blond boy's presence down here.
So, she sat, her hands all in a twist and fingers fidgeting, and set her super-senses to the task of seeking out any sound or smell that she found familiar. By now, she knew Finn's personal scent, and might even be able to pick up his specific footfall if she concentrated hard enough. She sat, shut her eyes, set her hand to the stone bench she sat on, and set about activating the sight.
And in that state, she waited.
It didn't take long for her to be disturbed. Though the likes of Shadow and Oom were safely tucked away into their own spaces - and, frankly, neither were friends of Kira's down here - there was another who had now taken to Kira like a new born lamb imprinting on a wolf.
"You sleeping?" came the voice. It wasn't as nervy as it once was, though still sounded unsure.
Kira snapped out of it, her black and white impression of the world above her dismissed by the intrusion. She opened her eyes up and took in the fairly tall, lithe form of Gwyn ahead of her, dark brown eyes half hidden under sleek brows.
"Oh, did I wake you?" asked Gwyn.
Kira shook her head.
"No, it's fine. Just resting my eyes. What's up?"
Gwyn crept forward under the little archway, turning her eyes back into the main cell as she went. She lowered her voice.
"I just...wondered if I could sit here with you?" she asked. "I don't like being out there alone with those two."
"Right. Yeah, I guess. Just, um, sit on the floor there if you want."
Gwyn smiled and sat on the hard stone floor. There was plenty of space for her beside Kira on the bench, but that would be a step too far. Over the last few days, ever since their great victory in the cull, the two had become friends and allies down here. Yet, Kira always tried to keep her at arm's length too, knowing that any bonds here would only serve to weaken her.
It was, in the end, something of a quandary. In a place like this, friendship could keep you sane. To have someone to talk to, to share your worries with, a shoulder to cry on so to speak. That could be useful indeed.
Yet, there was the other side of the coin. What if she got too close to someone, and they were killed? What if, God forbid, she had to face them in the arena herself?
The former issue wasn't quite so difficult. Kira had, over the course of her life as a rebel in the city of Haven, seen many friends die, and her parents too. She'd suffered enough loss to last a dozen lifetimes, and had grown cold to the concept of grief and bereavement. She looked upon death in a manner that would certainly help in a place like this.
The second issue, however, wasn't as simple to confront. Her burgeoning friendship with Finn, after all, had faltered when she rea
lised that they may have to meet on the sand. Now, the same was happening with Gwyn, and she couldn't be sure quite how to act.
Yet, there was something about fighting alongside a person that opened Kira up. She'd battled with friends in Haven, and despite her natural inclination towards being a lone wolf, always enjoyed the camaraderie. She was, in fact, known for being a fairly relaxed person on the outside, despite the terrible things she so often had to face. She fought with a smile on her face, enjoying the conflict, and always sought to bring light to a place that would otherwise be swamped in darkness. Yet here, in this place, the smile had slipped. It was a different situation, a different world. And here, Kira was different too.
But, the core of her would never change. And that core told of a person who felt closest to someone when she was fighting with them, saving their life. She'd done so with Gwyn during the cull, and now saw her differently, whether she liked it or not. She wanted to see Gwyn safe, just as she did Finn. And with every new connection, she got weaker.
And she knew it.
She looked at Gwyn now, as she sat on the floor, her knees bent and legs bunched in front of her. She'd fought well during the cull, casting off her nerves when she needed to. But being back here, and seeing the gladiators leave and never return, had only appeared to liven up her fears once more.
"How's the arm?" asked Kira as she looked at her.
Gwyn reached across and gave her upper left arm a tap, injured during the bout.
"All good. The medics here are magicians." She smiled, and glanced back down into the main cell. "I guess they're fighting tomorrow," she said.
Kira knew she was referring to Oom and Shadow. She could hear the giant pacing now, just around the corner, though Shadow stayed hidden in his lair. No wonder Gwyn had sought Kira's companionship.
"Yep," said Kira. "Then it'll be back to us I imagine."
Gwyn's face shaped into a wince. She nodded and let out a breath, but said nothing.
"Hopefully we'll get to fight together again," added Kira.
Gwyn looked up and nodded.
"I guess. I can't count on you every time, though. Do you think...do you think there's any other way out of here?"
"You mean escape?" Kira's asked.
Gwyn shrugged.
"It's a long shot, but yeah," said Gwyn. "If we could get into the streets, we might be able to get away. There were no walls blocking the city off when we came here, right? No gates."
Kira thought back to when they'd been brought from the coast. She couldn't recall passing through gates or past large walls.
"I don't think so. Lots of soldiers, though, Gwyn."
"But, with your powers, we could sneak past them? It's what you did in Haven, right? You were a spy, and an assassin. You told me yourself, you can get anywhere unseen."
"Well, in Haven yeah. I know the city, every nook and cranny. Here," she said, opening her hands, "I'd be lost. It'd be a major long shot, even if we could escape the cell or somehow evade the guards and get out onto the street."
"I know that," said Gwyn. "But, we're gonna die otherwise anyway. I've got no chance, none. And...you remember what happened with Shadow in the yard? He beat you easily, Kira. Don't get me wrong. You're a great fighter, but some are better, right? Neither of us will survive here."
Kira chose her words next carefully. Such thoughts were best ignored, and would only cause them both to lose focus.
"Gwyn, you know what Domitian said about the decimation, right? And there are other punishments that are even worse. Trust me, dying in the arena isn't the worst way to go when compared to those. And anyway, even if everything worked perfectly, and we escaped, then what? Where would we go? We're both thousands of miles from home."
"I don't know. We could find somewhere new..."
"Gwyn," said Kira firmly. "No. This isn't a discussion I want to have. It won't do us any good."
"But..."
"No. Enough. If you want to live, then fight on the sand and submit before you get killed. I don't know...maybe that would work."
"Submit? As in, kneeling down and lifting your index finger?" Gwyn asked hopefully. "You think that's possible? Would the Empress allow it?"
Mention of Vesper curled Kira's lips down.
"Someone as sadistic as that? Who knows," she said. "Depends if you're in her good books and have put up a decent fight first. I mean, I can't imagine the crowd would take kindly to you just kneeling straight down as soon as the fight starts. You have to earn the right to live. And, in doing so, risk your life." She shook her head and a breath surged into her lungs. "Anyway," she blew it out. "I don't have the answers. Ask Rufus when he comes back down here. Or Dom. OK?"
Gwyn nodded and went silent. Kira considered that she'd given her ally enough to stew on for now, some tiny bit of light at the end of the tunnel. It was a ray that Kira would ignore herself. She knew that submitting in battle wasn't something she could bring herself to do. In sober, silent thoughts down here? Perhaps, yes. But out there, in the heat of it? Hell no.
With Gwyn's somewhat placated, Kira shut her eyes once more and returned her focus to the world above. It took her a moment for the world to come back into view, for the shapes of the guards to form. She focused harder and searched further, and just beyond the gate to the main compound, heard the rattling of wagon wheels and the unique sounds of a gathering throng.
Her heart pulsed a little harder. She zeroed in on the wagon as it rolled through the gate, opened by soldiers, before working its way across the main yard and towards the ludus. She let her nostrils flare and draw in the distant smells, growing in clarity as they neared. A musty odour grew, telling of several men who'd been sweating profusely. Then several footsteps began to grind against the dirt, bodies stepping from the wagon and pressing into the training yard.
She could sense the forms of the men, given shape by the smells that spread from their pores, from the flow of air around them, from the weight of their feet as they hit the earth. Five of them stopped outside the cells briefly, and Kira heard the muffled voice of Domitian speak. She couldn't decipher the precise words through the thick stone, not with her focus split. It didn't matter. Moments later, one figure was moving into the main residence, and four more were stepping down the stone steps towards the dungeon.
Kira opened her eyes suddenly, and stood. The movement drew Gwyn out of her thoughts. She looked up and saw Kira's eyes.
"They're coming back?" she asked.
A reply wasn't needed. From up the stairs, footsteps could now be heard clearly through the bars. Gwyn stood too, and the two young women moved from their little alcove and into the main space of the cell, just as the gate opened up and Rufus appeared.
He stepped inside, and behind him came Malvo, Lee, and then Finn. Kira's lips warped into a sudden smile at the sight of him, untouched and unharmed, though with a splash of blood across his face and fetching blue robes. He looked at her as her smile flashed, but his own face stayed stony. He moved straight for the fountain to take a drink as Kira looked over the others.
Lee and Malvo were both similarly unharmed. She could see or sense no injury to any of them, and noted that their outfits were also unblemished. It looked as though all of them had come through their bouts rather easily.
As Finn finished up on the fountain, the other two took their turn. Oom, who'd attempted to make the fountain area his territory on first arrival, now left it alone under Rufus' commands. He stalked away towards the rear, his gigantic frame leaning against the stone wall. Even Shadow crept from his lair, his icy eyes noting who had returned to the cells before retreating again into the shade.
"Right, you know the drill by now," said Rufus to the now depleted cell. Already, half of its previous occupants had been killed. Only seven now remained. "I'll be back down a little later to tell you about tomorrow's bouts. Oom, and Shadow, it'll be your turn. Rest up. Rations are on their way soon."
He turned on his heels and began moving for the barred door, m
anned by two guards. Kira saw a chance and quickly slipped to his side before he could leave.
"How did Finn do?" she whispered, glancing over at him as he quickly began undressing and venturing towards the shower. "He looks unhurt."
"He is unhurt," said Rufus. "He followed my instructions perfectly, and did very well. If you want more information, Kira, I suggest you speak with him yourself."
His dark eyes locked with hers for a moment, before he continued on his path out of the dungeon. Kira took a breath and then looked at Finn, struggling a little with his breastplate. She hurried over.
"Need some help?" she asked, quite softly.
He shook his head.
"No...thanks. It's fine. I can do it."
"Looks like it," she smirked.
He struggled for a moment longer with one of the buckles, before dropping his hands to his side.
"Actually..." he muttered.
Kira smiled and launched her fingers to the task. She made sure to take her time, though she could have unwrapped him more quickly, in order to give her some time to question him.
"So..." she started, nice and casual, "sounds like it went well?"
Finn nodded but said nothing.
"That well huh?!" said Kira, widening her eyes.
Finn glanced at her and stifled a smile. He nodded.
"I killed a man," he said. "I guess around here, that's doing well."
"Yeah. If it means you live, then yeah."
"I guess so. I'd rather not talk about it, though. You nearly done?"
Kira sped her efforts a little, unfastening a buckle and moving to the next.
"I'm, er...happy you're here, Finn," she said. "I was quite worried..."
He shook his head.
"No point in worrying. It's like you said before, we can't really be friends here. It'll only weaken us."
"I did say that, didn't I?" Kira mused.
"Yeah."
She continued to work on his breastplate in silence. It seemed her advice to him had sunk deep. He was refusing to thaw to her, despite her best intentions. Really, it was probably for the best.
