The Warrior Race Trilogy BoxSet

by T. C. Edge

Kira righted herself.

  "Well, no, not him. He's emotionally disabled too. He's not like most of us. We feel fear and apprehension when we get ready to fight. You can't imagine how horrible it is the night before, sitting alone in that gloomy dungeon, just waiting to go out there to fight for your life. Malvo will be frightened right now, you can bet your life on it. But Shadow...he won't care at all. He doesn't feel fear like the rest of us."

  As Kira spoke, Dom's heart fell into darkness. He was the architect of their fear. Malvo was down there now, terrified by what lay ahead, because of him.

  "Anyway, to answer your question," continued Claudius at a pace. "You are in line to fight the winner of the Shadow - Steelhide bout. So, as you say, it's likely to be Shadow..."

  "No," came Dom's voice, escaping his dark reverie. He looked Kira dead in the eye. "Your time out there is done," he said loudly. "There is no way I'm letting you fight Shadow, if it comes to it." His eyes spread back to Claudius. "We have three days now to figure something out with Lucius' help. Three days to ensure the games are cut short, and my mother's life too. Let's focus on that, shall we?"

  The room dropped into a short silence, before Dom spoke again.

  "Now, Lucius is still embedded within his father's cause, which does make Pontius an ally of sorts."

  "Um, sorry?" asked Kira, raising a hand. "I need a recap here. Pontius is the man who captured you, right? Who was having you tortured and was going to then have you killed? I'm right so far, aren't I?"

  "Yes," laughed Dom, understanding the slight awkwardness of the situation. "Lord Pontius sees me as a threat, much as my mother does. He certainly wants me dead. My mother...well, I'd imagine it's not too much of a stretch to assume the same with her, at least once her new heir is born. I assume, Kira, that you've heard the phrase, 'my enemy's enemy is my friend?"

  Kira shrugged.

  "Rings a bell."

  'Well, it rings true here," said Dom, voice cantering. "As of right now, my mother knows nothing of Lord Pontius' treachery. If she did, his head would find itself immediately on a spike, and he wouldn't be so comfortably perched at her side up in the royal balcony. He has concealed his true intentions from us all until now, and the problems in Southside have been stirred up by him. His money is paying for mercenaries, and he is actively working to destabilise my mother, just as I've been doing. His intention, like ours, is to find a breach in my mother's defence, and assassinate her as soon as he gets a chance. He'd hoped that Lucius would find something in my head to steer that path, but alas that didn't exactly work out for him. However, it's clear enough that we are somewhat aligned on this issue."

  "Right, everyone wants Vesper dead. I think that's a safe enough assumption for the entire city," announced Kira. "But I don't see what you're getting at, Dom. Do you want to strike a deal with Pontius or something?"

  Dom looked over to Claudius, who was pondering the issue. He invited the old Savant to offer his thoughts.

  "It's an option," Claudius said, drawing Kira's eye. "A temporary alliance could be struck, but it's hard to know how it would actually change anything. After all, you both have mercenary groups fighting the Imperial Guard as we speak. Teaming up in an official capacity won't change that. Then, of course, there's the simple fact that Lord Pontius wishes you dead. I don't believe any pact will alter that. As long as you live, the city will be divided over who to follow. And now," Claudius concluded, turning his open palm to Kira, "you have The Red Warrior at your side. Her popularity only strengthens your cause, Master Domitian."

  "Well summarised," said Dom, nodding. "And exactly my thoughts. In fact, I think Lucius has shown the way here. He has gone behind his father's back, and shown us his position. To team with his father would not go down well with him. He looks upon Pontius as I do my mother. We are both nothing but disappointments to our great parents. This city needs rid of them both, so the next generation can rule."

  Kira was impressed, and saw in Dom the burgeoning figure of a leader.

  "Strong words," she said, applauding lightly but without irony. "It seems you're starting to accept your fate?"

  Dom smiled fleetingly, his eyes reminiscing.

  "It was a fate I once wished for," he said solemnly. "Lucius and I spoke of ruling together, even turning this city back into the republic it was millennia ago. The years haven't been kind to the pact we shared. But now...now the path ahead is becoming clear." He turned to Kira and then to Claudius. "Vesper and Pontius must die, and in that order," he said. "We must continue to bolster Pontius' uprising and draw my mother out. Once we do, we can strike, and Pontius will quickly follow. How? Well that remains a problem we have to solve."

  "And what's the latest on that front?" asked Kira. "Is Vesper's Imperial Guard weakening? Is she becoming vulnerable?"

  Again, Dom sought Claudius' input.

  "The fighting in the south is certainly drawing away her resources," explained Claudius. "Yet, the Empress doesn't leave the palace except to attend the games. Once they are concluded, she will hide away and will be incredibly difficult to get to, unless the rebels in the south, our men included, manage to march upon the city centre and storm the palace itself."

  "So, we have to take her down before the games end then?" determined Kira.

  "That would be preferable. Right now, however, her most powerful and loyal members of the Imperial Guard are perpetually at her side."

  "Ares," whispered Kira, looking at Dom. "He's the problem, isn't he?"

  Dom considered it, stroking his chin in thought.

  "Indeed," he said. "Ares is formidable, and his closest lieutenants are supremely gifted too. We'd need a similar force to test him, let alone get past him. As long as he's by my mother's side, we may struggle."

  "What about the gladiators," said Kira. "You say Lucius is on your side? Well, together you've got a decent force. He's got Jaeger. You've got Shadow, Oom. Dare I say it...me. We could work together. Hell, I'd even side with Shadow on something like this. Use your telepathy and make them do your bidding..."

  Dom cut her off as she got going.

  "No, Kira. The gladiators are too recognisable now. We can't exactly march them to the royal palace and set them loose. In any case, you'd need far more than that to overcome Ares and the guards at the palace."

  "Fine," Kira grumbled, the wind sucked from her sails. "And what about you and Lucius. I swear, Dom, your powers are by far the most potent here. You can turn an army to your cause if you want. Couldn't you two just go to the plaza, take command of the Imperial Guards one by one, and turn them against Vesper?"

  Claudius was raising his eyes and nodding.

  "It seems like a feasible option, Master Domitian," he said.

  Dom didn't agree. He knew the limits of his telepathy, and the depths of his mother's.

  "I've told you already, Kira," he said. "My mother has installed a veritable labyrinth of mental security in her Imperial Guards that I cannot simply bypass with a glance. Some men are weak minded, and easy to command. Others take more time to possess. Then, there are those who have been prepared for such intrusions. I could possibly circumvent their safeguards, but it would take time and privacy to do it. Simply going to the forum and trying to enter their minds would raise flags."

  "OK, so it can't be done," said Kira, summarising.

  "No."

  "Well, what about the Imperial Guards in Southside, the ones fighting the rebels?"

  "What about them?"

  "Well, couldn't you capture some of them, take them somewhere private, and then, you know, do your thing. Get around your mother's defences and put new commands into their heads?"

  "I could, possibly," nodded Dom. "But the Imperial Guards stationed in Southside aren't the ones who defend the palace. They are a separate unit, and stay on the premises at all times. It would take someone of incalculable power to mentally manipulate them out there in the open."

  "So, Vesper's locked down tight then," said Kira. "No getting in?"

&n
bsp; "The palace is a fortress," said Claudius. "I see two options, if you'll permit me, Master Domitian?"

  Dom nodded.

  "Go ahead.

  "Well, it seems that time is of the essence, so ideally we need to act fast, and before the games conclude. Vesper will be slightly more vulnerable within the royal box, and en route to the Colosseum. Yes, she will have Ares and her personal guard by her side, but she won't have the walls of the palace itself. A mass attack might be possible, and within the confusion the Empress might just fall."

  "And option two?" asked Dom.

  "Option two is a longer affair. Lord Pontius clearly isn't quite so concerned by haste, and will continue to build his position in Southside, and weaken the Imperial Guard, for many weeks or months if needs be. He has the money to pay for this rebellion until it reaps the desired rewards, and the Empress is likely to open herself to attack at one point or another. Lord Pontius may be happy to play the waiting game, assuming his treachery isn't discovered. He may even turn to open war if required, which isn't helpful to anyone. My point being, Master Domitian, that option two is to do the same. Support the uprising, fan the flames of revolt, and bide your time. I can see, however, that the option doesn't appeal to you?"

  "You know me well, my friend. No, it doesn't appeal for several reasons. I refuse to let innocents die as we seek to gain political position. People are being killed in Southside on account of this conflict, and I won't see that spread. Moreover, my mother has assured me that my days here are numbered. I am to be officially exiled following the games, when her heir is born. I think option one is the only way forward as I see it. But even that comes with significant issue and potential loss of innocent life."

  "A necessary side-effect, sir," said Claudius. "Innocents always get caught in the crossfire of any major conflict. It comes with the territory."

  Claudius' casual manner of discussing mass death was quite discomforting. For Kira, however, it echoed her own thoughts. She was fully aware of how these situations played out. And though she was loathe to admit it, the loss of human life in the pursuit of saving many more was, in such situations, acceptable.

  Still, Dom didn't like it. Not only the loss of life, but the risks of such an undertaking. It would be a one-shot option, and failure would expose them all. He wished to seek a better solution if possible, though was fully cognisant of the ticking clock, tapping away in his head.

  He needed further input, and the other end of this debate was Lucius. It was time, perhaps, to pay a visit to his friend.

  107

  It appeared as though life in the forest had slowed down Polus' clock.

  "Time runs differently here," he told Merk with a smile. "Hours in the city are like days or weeks in the woods. It is odd, yes, at first. But soon you get used to the casual flow of things."

  Unfortunately, Merk's clock was still ticking along at the usual pace, and he was all too aware of the urgency of the situation. He'd explained several times now to Polus just why he'd come - though he didn't really need to, given Polus knew before he'd told him - and had attempted to prise an answer from the great telepath over whether he'd lend a hand.

  As yet, Polus had replied inconclusively, mostly telling Merk to, "Relax and enjoy the scenery. It's so peaceful out here..."

  Finn and Gwyn, having awoken, had also been brought into the fold. Unlike Merk, who'd long idolised Polus, they looked at him as just another man, and a rather strange one at that.

  "He's this great gladiator?" asked Gwyn at one point, motioning to Polus as he sung gently to himself, sweeping the cavern floor. He liked to keep things nice and tidy, Merk had quickly come to see. Around here, with little to do, such chores were probably an important function in maintaining sanity.

  "He was," said Merk, doubts accumulating. "That was decades ago. He's been out here for a long time, Gwyn."

  Finn was marginally more respectful, though quite forthright when speaking to Polus' face. That Monday evening, as soon as he'd been awoken and discovered what had happened, he'd taken to requesting Polus' help immediately, trying a different tack in his attempts. In Finn's case, it was to shower the man in praise, and tell him how wonderful it would be for the people to see him again.

  Polus brushed his words aside, his grin slipping away.

  "No one cares for old Polus anymore," he told them. "If they ever did..."

  It was becoming evident to Merk that his hero wasn't entirely enamoured by the city that chewed him up and spat him out. By the people who, as he saw it, did nothing when he was exiled, too frightened of the Empress to stand up to her and her Imperial Guard, as they seemed to be doing now.

  He was wrong, of course, something that Cicero had told him. The mere fact that his fate was so widely debated, even to this day, told of his importance to the masses. He was revered to a level that few men achieved, and had a cult following of ardent supporters who had gone so far as to proclaim his 'second coming' as though he was some sort of deity, set to march back into Neorome and set all their wrongs to rights.

  Merk never subscribed to their overly dramatic manner of thinking. Yet, right now, he was quite happy to hope for the same end result. Quite what Polus could do was up for discussion, but he had to try. Surely he did?

  Polus was a stubborn man, and decisions came slow. As Tuesday passed by, and Finn and Gwyn began to grumble about the state of affairs, and consider going back home, Merk set about speaking alone with Cicero. With Polus out collecting firewood, Finn going with him to continue his charm offensive, Merk stepped into the kitchen, where Cicero spent much of his time.

  "Answer me plainly, Cicero," he said. "Will he help?"

  Cicero turned from the wooden counter, fixed to the rock wall of the cave. He was cutting and washing vegetables, a book open to one side. A recipe book, fictional account, or work of some other kind Merk didn't rightly care.

  Wringing his wiry hands, Cicero could do little more than shrug.

  "Polus works at his own pace," he said. "You can't rush him."

  "That wasn't my question," said Merk, his tolerance for bullshit swiftly evaporating.

  "No, indeed," smiled Cicero, seemingly afflicted with the same slow, meandering pattern of living. He'd been spending increasingly long amounts of time out here with his old friend, only returning fleetingly over more recent months and years to fetch supplies of clothes, specialist food items, small furnishings, books, and, of course, plenty of whiskey and wine. He was now a permanent resident, it seemed, and, like his friend, saw no need for urgency.

  Yet, though Polus could see in their minds what was happening in the city, and the terrible trouble engulfing Southside, he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. Cicero had, forcing him to flee. Merk saw it as a thread that needed to be pulled.

  "Neorome is falling apart," he said. "You've seen it. The Empress is mad as a bag of snakes, Cicero. Polus can do some good. He can help."

  "Help," nodded Cicero. "Yes, perhaps he can. But that's not only why you're here, is it, Merk. You have a personal stake in this, regarding Prince Domitian. And your young friends out there, they seek to aid this gladiator, Kira. Those are your primary concerns. It isn't the fate of the poor that keeps you awake at night."

  "Don't presume to tell me what I think and feel, Cicero. You're just a man like me. You don't have Polus' gifts."

  "No, but I have his ear and I have his voice. He tells me all, Merk. We know this is a personal crusade for you, so don't come here and pretend as though you're trying to save the city. This is about your friends. Just admit it."

  Merk didn't like the inquisition. He did care about the people. He lived in Southside, damnit. And yeah, the city hadn't exactly been good to him over the years, but he didn't want to see it swallowed up by a vicious despot.

  Still, he knew that getting into an argument would suit no one. He needed Cicero's aid. He needed the old author to persuade his friend to help.

  "You're right," said Merk, drawing a calming breath. "But is that so bad
? To think mostly about those you know and care about. That's just being human."

  Cicero smiled, moving to a pot and stirring.

  "Indeed it is, Merk. It's no bad thing at all."

  He began working around his stew, seeming to drift off from the conversation. Merk allowed him the brief silence, hoping he was merely considering something. Sometimes silence was a more valuable tool in persuasion than simply uttering aimless words. Merk had made his case. There was little more he could do.

  He took a step back and prepared to leave, as Cicero's voice rang out once more.

  "Polus hasn't stepped foot in Neorome for a long time, Merk," he said. "What he was, all those years ago...it's barely him anymore. He lives a simple life, and has simple pleasures. He doesn't look upon the world as you do."

  "I understand," whispered Merk. He set a tone of defeat to his voice. "I don't pretend to know what Polus can and cannot do. I only hoped he might try."

  Cicero smiled. His eyes lifted from the pot.

  "Now that's the line of attack, my friend," he said, looking Merk directly in the eye. "Polus still has his pride, of that there is no doubt. Stir it up, and challenge him to prove himself. It may yield the reward you're hoping for."

  It was dinner time. Cicero's stew had been prepared, a slight variation on the previous night. Then it had been fish. Now it was venison. The forest was a larder, generous in its bounty.

  To one side of the kitchen, a fire roared. Beside it, gathered into large wicker baskets, a pile of dry logs and kindling sat, ready to be thrown into the blaze. The firelight set a dashing glow to the cave, dancing about upon the walls and the table at which they all sat, gulping down stew and wine and engaging in hearty conversation.

  The last hour had seen Merk quieten his tongue and halt his pursuit of his task. He'd petitioned Gwyn to do the same, her rather frank style not what was needed right now. Finn, on the other hand, appeared to be getting on fairly well with Polus, their jaunt out into the woods clearly bringing them closer. Merk liked what he saw. Finn had the man's ear.