The Warrior Race Trilogy BoxSet

by T. C. Edge

  "I just have to say, Lucius. What you did for Kira...I don't know how to thank you. You saved my life. Now you've saved hers. I'm in your debt forever."

  Lucius smiled graciously, and offered gracious words too.

  "You know, Kira was doing pretty well out there on her own. She was impressive, Dom. They were fairly matched. She might have won anyway."

  "Tell her that when you see her," laughed Dom. "I think she feels a bit disappointed she didn't beat Tomahawk on her own."

  "I'm not sure she'd want to speak to me," said Lucius. "I haven't exactly been good to her."

  "Whatever's happened is in the past," said Dom firmly. "And all under the commands of my mother. Kira understands that. And you saving her life is plenty to make amends."

  "I guess."

  The conversation resumed, doing so in haste. Before long, Vesper would be working her way through the streets, Ares and her personal guard by her side, ready to watch the second two quarter finals take place. If the idea of striking her outside the palace walls, en route to the arena, were to be pursued, today wouldn't be the day. It would require preparation, an assembling of men to carry out the deed. This coming Friday, when the semi finals were set to begin, would have to be the day. For Dom, it was the only option in keeping Kira from the sand. And in order to lure Vesper from her lair, everything else had to appear as normal.

  "A diversion," Lucius said. "That's what we'll need. Something to distract Vesper's guard long enough to get to her."

  "That could work," nodded Dom. "Do you think your father would be able to get some of his mercenaries into the centre?"

  Lucius raised his eyes.

  "You want his help?" he queried, surprised.

  "We have to use all the resources available to us," nodded Dom. "I have my own men I can bring, those from outside the city. If you get your father to do the same, we can cause enough of a fuss for the Imperial Guards to make my mother vulnerable."

  "And Ares?"

  Dom cast his eyes away. Ares was ever the problem, an insurmountable barrier always blocking any path to the Empress. Yet even he had his limits.

  "He'll stay by her side, whatever happens. If we plan for our forces to attack at the same time, he'll no doubt assess the risk immediately and have the carriage escort my mother to safety. He'll take only a second to do it, and they'll head for the nearest sanctuary, which will be the arena itself if we plan it right. This is where you and I come in, Lucius. The guards protecting the arena aren't those closest to the Empress, and don't have the same level of loyalty or mental security in their heads. They can be turned by us, if we do things right."

  "OK, this is good," said Lucius, wiping sweat from his brow. "We'll have to get there early enough to speak individually with the guards and ensure they're fully under our command. We'll bring our gladiators to the cells, as if everything's normal, and then go to work. By the time Vesper arrives, we'll be ready to go. Our fighters won't ever have to step onto the sand. Don't worry, Dom...Kira won't be in action again."

  Dom didn't like it a great deal, but knew it was the only way. At least that he could see. He needed to maintain the ruse, and that meant continuing as normal and taking Kira, Oom, and probably Shadow, should he win today, to the stadium before the Empress arrived. With her security so high following the attack by Rufus, she'd taken to spending as little time in the arena as possible. Again, she needed to keep up appearances too.

  What that meant was that she'd be all but certain to arrive only just before the start of the first fight, rather than arriving early to enjoy the build-up and atmosphere as she once did. That would give Dom and Lucius time to prepare.

  "It would need to go perfectly," said Dom. "And you'd have to convince your father to commit to bringing some of his mercenaries here. Do you think that's possible?"

  "I think so," said Lucius after considering it a moment. "He won't know of your involvement, of course. I'll keep that a secret."

  "Yes, good. He may smell a rat otherwise."

  "Perhaps, perhaps not. After all, you know full well that it was his guards who kidnapped you. But...he doesn't know that you know that, does he?"

  "True. But smart as he is, he's probably imagined that I've figured it out."

  "Well," smirked Lucius, "he may be smart, but he doesn't think the same of you. Perhaps my nickname for you sunk in and he started to believe it over the years."

  "Dumb Dom," murmured the Prince. "I'm happy enough for him to believe it if it helps in the deceit. In any case, as soon as my mother is assassinated, your father will have to follow. If he discovers our plot, he'll gather his own forces around him and the city will fall into turmoil and war. They both need to die, one after another. We only go forward if we're sure that can happen."

  "I'll see to it," said Lucius immediately. "My father's hubris will be his downfall. I'm the one who ensures our personal guards are fully loyal. I'm the one who arranges the mental security in their minds so that they can't be easily interrogated or swayed, just like the Imperial Guard with your mother. It won't be a problem for me to change their orders, and have my father cut down. And you know, I'd be happy enough to do it personally if it came to it."

  "I don't doubt it," said Dom. "And I guess we have lots of work to do." He looked to the door, and saw several shadows pass by outside, the morning now hurrying along and the baths starting to fill. "We should probably end it there. If word gets out to your father that we were seen together here, he might start doing some digging. Start making preparations, and get working on Pontius. I'll see to it that Claudius arranges for my men to pass into the centre for Friday morning, dressed as commoners. We'll distribute tickets to them to make it official. Anything else I've missed?"

  Lucius thought for a moment.

  "Nothing I can think of." He reached across and clutched Dom's wrist, fingers wrapping tight. "This is the start of something great, my friend. On Friday, this city will be rid of the darkness, and we shall begin to usher in the light."

  Dom smiled.

  "Nicely put." He stood and moved towards the door, pulling his cloak back on. "I'll see you up in the gallery later. And remember, we're enemies in public."

  "In public?" Lucius smirked, a twinkle in his eye.

  Dom laughed, and slipped quietly through the door.

  109

  Merk had a grin on his face that he didn't want seen. At least, not by Polus. While the great telepath loved his woods, Merk had taken to seeing them in a rather different fashion. Ever since his time here as a bandit many years ago, he felt claustrophobic in their grip. The sea was his true love. The woods held no place of prominence in his heart. And now, with the end of the tangled forest in sight, a smile had begun to build that wasn't easily suppressed.

  By the looks of things, Polus was feeling the opposite.

  There was an irony to Merk's expression, however, given the troubles they'd had. The previous night, over dinner, Finn had worked wonders, hammering in the final nail as the group combined to persuade Polus to help. It was a final run, and a successful one too. And though Merk had played his part, the young pup with blond hair and sky blue eyes had been the MVP.

  Still, though the evening was triumphant, the following day had brought several grisly turns along with it. First of all, the morning weather was treacherous and unwieldy. A storm had risen up through the dawn and was assailing the woods with a vicious wind that made venturing out incredibly unappealing. It was the remnants of the poor weather heading north, and they seemed to be getting the worst of it here. Over in the city, Merk suspected, it wouldn't be anywhere near as bad.

  The tempest had naturally curtailed their start, with Finn and Gwyn particularly eager to set off. Polus didn't seem quite so troubled, owing to his slow sense of time and the mere fact that he clearly still harboured doubts about returning to Neorome. Perhaps it was the wine that did it, or Finn's passion, or merely the constant asking, in various forms, that eventually turned Polus' head. Whatever it was, and whethe
r coerced or not, he was a man of his word, and would see it through.

  Still, the morning rumbled along, the gang from the safe house quietly discontent and restless, urging for the weather to improve, rather than for Polus and Cicero to brave it. Eventually it did, a little time after midday, the storm easing as it worked north, turning the battering winds into light breezes and the slashing rain into tickling drizzle.

  The youngsters set straight into action, rushing off to prepare the bikes that had been stored outside since their arrival. They returned with a stamp, grumbling of a problem. The rest gathered to see that the tyres of each bike had been all but destroyed, the rubber eroded.

  "Ah yes," said Polus, conducting a quick inspection. "Certain critters round these parts enjoy a good bit of rubber for a snack. The things creatures will do to survive, huh."

  It seemed ludicrous to Merk that any animal, of any kind, would take to eating rubber for sustenance. A brief suspicion did rise, inculpating Polus of the act. He had ventured to get firewood on several occasions, after all. Even when the wicker baskets were full.

  The suspected blame, however, wasn't vocalised as it would only cause debate, and Merk was certainly one for 'innocent until proven guilty'. Instead, the group assessed their options and agreed that the only way back was on foot, something that would slow their journey considerably and open them up to all sorts of possible risks along the way.

  Finn made a separate proposal to speed things along.

  "I'll run back myself. I can get there quickly, by early evening no trouble. I can warn the rest that you're coming at least..."

  "No, that won't do," said Polus. "For a start, these woods can be tricky to navigate. You'll need us to point you the way out, or else you might end up going in completely the wrong direction."

  "Fine. Once we reach the edge of the woods then," said Finn. "You can point the way, and I'll go from there."

  "Dear boy, covering thirty miles of terrain, based only off someone's finger to guide you from the starting blocks, isn't sensible. You may veer off course and lose your path. No good. And, in any case, it's best we stay together should we run into trouble."

  "Surely you can handle any trouble?" queried Gwyn.

  "I'm...out of practice," said Polus. "And splitting up is off the table. Now, the longer we stand here debating, the longer it'll take to get there. So, shall we?"

  They could all agree on his final assessment at least. With a last, longing look at the disabled bikes, Merk turned with the gang and began working through the forest. He was fully aware that there were miles, and likely slow ones, until they reached the edge of the woods, followed by another thirty after that across variable terrain. Given his advanced years, the upcoming journey didn't inspire a great deal of optimism.

  The trek through the woods was expectedly rough. Though the forest wasn't as Polus had magically made it appear when they first ventured towards the spring, it was still tangled and thick in places, slowing their progress considerably and making each passing mile stretch into several.

  The pace wasn't helped by the age of certain members of the party, with Cicero, in particular, unused to extended physical exertions. Merk's life at sea brought with it a need to keep relatively fit and hardy, while Polus spent much time at work in the forest, chopping wood, building basic structures, gathering water, hunting, and so forth. Cicero's time there appeared to have been taken up by different activities, with household chores more his forte. His wonderful range of stews was no doubt the tip of the iceberg with his cooking, and Merk had noticed that his private bedchamber was full of parchments and half written scrolls and manuscripts, suggesting he spent much time at writing too.

  The result was a grouping of men in their sixties who had varying degrees of physical fitness and vigour. The trek would be easy for Polus, doable for Merk, but a struggle for Cicero by the early looks of things. By the time they finally reached the edge of the forest, and Merk's face erupted into that well-worn and crooked smile, it was becoming clear that the journey back to the safe house would take much longer than first anticipated.

  For Finn and Gwyn, the matter was of greatest concern. They were sprightly and full of energy, and grew quickly frustrated by the dawdling pace. It had been half a week now since they left the city on this errand, and they were eager to know just what was going on. For all they knew, they'd return to discover that Kira had already been killed upon the sand, the tournament no doubt rushing along towards its closing stages by this point. The girl in red was their main motivation for doing all this. If she were already dead...

  It didn't bear thinking about, and both knew it. They decided together that she was most certainly still alive, and that wasting time or energy imagining the alternative was off the table. Still, they tried their best to hurry the old men along, their journey further hampered by the occasional sight of travelling coaches and carriages, heading to and from the city, traders and merchants hauling their wares. Each time anyone came into sight, they made sure to stop and conceal themselves from view as best they could, passing primarily across country in order to limit such encounters. With Merk, Finn, and Gwyn all well known and recognisable, it was best if their faces weren't spotted.

  The route back, however, did require passing near the odd village or settlement, as well as the occasional road or bridge to speed their way. On their path from the city several days ago such things had been easy, not only because of the bikes, but the fact that they travelled under the cover of night when the land was sleeping. Now, through necessity, they were hurrying along under the sun, forcing them to stop and assess before moving on in order to avoid detection. For the younger portion of the band, it was exasperating. For Cicero, and to a lesser extent Merk, the breaks were rather more welcome.

  It was calculated that they'd only travelled roughly a third of the way to Neorome when the light faded badly, night coming along so quick. Finn mentioned how it was surely a good thing, giving them the cover of dark to stop them having to be quite so careful. Cicero responded with a mention of how his eyesight had grown quite poor over the years, and the lack of light would only slow him further.

  Unfortunately, the weather remained unhelpful. It didn't rain or swell into a thunderous storm, but did resolve to gather up a healthy helping of dark clouds to blot out the star and moonlight. Even upon the more open plains and undulating hills, the light was quite poor, causing them to stop and take shelter until morning came.

  They did so within an old barn, part of a farm that appeared to be abandoned. It was creaky in the wind, yet comfortable enough. The five companions set about fashioning little spaces to sleep, first refuelling with a simple dinner of bread and dried meat. Finn and Gwyn entered into further conversation, whispering their frustrations between them in a bid to purge some of the negative energy. Cicero, meanwhile, was quick to drift off by the sound of his raspy breathing, the day's trek more than enough to tucker him out.

  For Merk, the entire episode remained like something of a dream. He sat in one corner, looking at the shadows of his companions as Finn and Gwyn's hushed tones whistled in the air. The frame of Polus, large and imposing, drew his attention most of all. He could still hardly believe he'd found him, such a figure of legend and myth. A man who'd inspired a thousand conspiracy theories, who still came up regularly in discussions in taverns and squares and public baths, especially at this time of year.

  Yet here he was, travelling with Merk now, a figure of legend and great power, yes, but still a man just the same. One with shades to his character, fears and doubts that rendered him more human than Merk would have thought. He wasn't just this great hero, who would march right back to Neorome and set Vesper in her place as Merk may have naively believed. He was a man who'd lived in the woods for decades, mostly alone, enjoying a simple existence in nature. The troubles of the masses, thoughts of a city at war, were no longer important to him. And all the work it took to convince him made one thing so very clear.

  He was afraid
.

  The morning came with a howl. The light wind that caused the barn to creak and strain through the night built in bluster, shaking the wooden structure more fiercely as dawn smiled upon the rolling hills. It drew the travellers awake, Finn once more quick to rouse the troops and get them moving.

  Before they did, Cicero insisted on a hearty breakfast, saying he'd been too fatigued the previous night to cook but was now happy to do so. Finn objected, though his stomach spoke otherwise. With the battering wind now bringing a bit of slashing rain, it was decided that they wait for a little while, eat, and then set off when the sun had properly risen.

  Finn's mutters were drowned out, a fire was formed from spare bits of wood and hay in the barn, and Cicero set about fashioning a breakfast of fried goods. Bacon, eggs, tomatoes, and sausages were on the menu. The smell was enough to settle Finn's complaints, temporarily at least.

  Once they'd eaten, the weather had begun to ease off again, the sun shining down bright outside. A rainbow came with it, shimmering over the hills and seeming to direct their path right back to the city. It seemed a good omen, and they set off once more, Polus calculating the path ahead and suggesting it would take them all of that Thursday, at least, to get there.

  "Perhaps longer, should we run into further delays," the telepath concluded. "But fear not, young Finn. We shall venture into the night if need's be. We will not stop until we reach the city."

  A little raised brow from Cicero caused Polus to edit his statement.

  "Except for breaks," he added, nodding to his companion. "We will take short stops where necessary to regather our energy."

  And so on they went, and it quickly appeared that those stops would be even more frequent than the day before. The closer they got to the city, the more settlements, roads, and other such hindrances they encountered. The paths to and from Neorome were hardly teeming, but they were busy enough during the light to cause a great deal of deviating along the route.