‘My report,’ the scientist added, passing his papers to the front guard, ‘don’t lose it.’
‘They won’t need it!’ I hissed as I passed Mum’s kneeling profile.
And it may have been my fancy but I sensed the tiniest lift of her head as I passed, as though she understood I was protecting her the only way I had left, that she understood.
It was the hardest thing, leaving Mum again, but her survival depended on my indifference, and there was only one real way to rescue her now.
Cassius had the cipher, the keyword, and any moment now, final evidence of my vaccine resistance. I was one of the last living threats from the outside world, and he’d had every opportunity to finish me. Yet, he hadn’t. Which left only one thing between us unexplained.
Our dark blood.
I gritted my teeth.
It divided and connected us in a way neither of us fully understood. But somehow it was enough to make him hesitate.
And that was all I needed.
Chapter 12
It was the closest I’d come to direct confrontation since arriving in Isca Pantheon. And I could imagine only too well how Cassius was relishing news of my vaccine resistance and outburst.
We descended by sky train, taking the last carriage reserved for Prolets and prisoners. It smelled of stale food and dirt, but I was out of the clinical box that had incarcerated me since I’d awaken, and the rush was intense. I closed my eyes briefly recalling Mum’s small hunched figure, praying she had the mental strength to keep her new awareness to herself. At least until I found a way forward.
The colossal structures growing towards us as we descended did little to allay my nerves. I surveyed the city in silence. There was no denying Cassius had been busy, using his army of Prolet slaves to build and expand; but there was something parasitic about Pantheon’s appearance now, almost as though it was sucking the lifeblood out of the earth below it in order to spread.
New Romanesque temples adorned each corner of the Civitas, each embellished with intricately carved gods and goddesses. There was Venus with a small Eros beside her; Minerva beneath a carved gleaming sun, her wisdom depicted by the rays above her head; Vulcan wielding a huge blacksmith’s hammer; and Apollo with his bow and arrows held high, proclaiming his undying loyalty.
I stared around, feeling Arafel’s ashes shrink to less than the eye of a needle. This wasn’t so much world-building as deity-making. And stretching up out of the centre of the civic lair was a new alabaster statue, twice the size of the rest. His flamboyant uniform and flattering likeness made him unmistakable; Emperor Cassius, Imperator of Isca Pantheon and Protector of the New Order.
A wave of bile threatened my forced calm. It was the work of an esoteric madman. Even Octavia had never placed herself so clearly among the gods. I would have laughed, if it hadn’t been so chilling. Less protector than predator.
We exited the sky train, and the guards took an easterly route through the outlying streets towards the grotesque statue leering over the city skyline. I forced my eyes to the streets, which were alive with smiling Pantheonites, all vying for a glimpse of the Civitas’ newest criminal or victim. One and the same in Isca Pantheon.
I returned their looks defiantly, challenging them to remember me. The feral girl. Still alive, despite their tyranny, ignorance and annihilation of my home. They stared with fear, curiosity, and occasionally something else I was wary to identify.
‘Look, Mama, it’s the Outsider!’ a young Pantheonite girl exclaimed before finding herself bundled away by her crow-beak mother.
‘Yes, the Outsider. Free! The way you should be,’ I yelled after her retreating form.
A guard’s hand clamped over my mouth, while a Diasord was pushed into the small of my back.
The child twisted to look back and I winked with a confidence I was far from feeling. But the fact she recalled my identity mattered; it meant I wasn’t forgotten. Not yet. She threw a brief smile, her pigtails dancing and chestnut eyes brimming with questions, and for just a second she reminded me of Faro. My mind dragged up the last image I had of her lying limply on the cold tower floor, freckles paling. My chest tightened with the sudden memory, and I pushed my head higher as we marched on.
The streets widened into stately plazas, with gleaming stone pavements and young trees trapped behind railings. Briefly, I wondered which part of the forest had been raided by Sweepers, and how many other animals and plants had been sacrificed in the process.
Then just as we turned a corner into one of the wider plazas, an all-too-familiar whirring noise reached into my thoughts, stalling everyone in their tracks. The low drone of voices gave way to an ominous silence and all eyes swivelled skywards as the planetary system in the domed ceiling cranked into action. Several planet-shaped units started towards the floor as crowds of Pantheonites pressed back against the clean white walls of their city, leaving the alabaster statues devoid of company. And I could almost taste the air, as it fell in folds of muted fear.
Now I was on the floor, it was also clear how much the planet system had grown. What had started out as half a dozen planetary screens in Octavia’s time, was now a complex network of control that reached into every square throughout the main city centre. I scanned the sky with foreboding. I understood enough to know the planets carried the moving images, the ones that spun destructive lies about the outside, and Cassius’s claim to authority. I recalled August’s ashen face in the research centre when he also discovered his own propaganda for the first time. I had yet to come across a weapon with so few teeth and claws, and yet could shred a person so swiftly.
One of the dark spheres slowed to a halt three metres above our square, and gleamed oppressively at the small crowd gathered beneath. Then there was another clicking sound as it spun over to reveal a flatter side, and I readied myself for the film I’d watched daily from my white cell. But instead there was a fanfare of new triumphant music, which set the faces around me twitching with anxiety. Today was clearly different.
‘Citizens, this is a historic day! A day for our Civitas to remember …’
As his smooth, acidic tone gripped the square, the screen suddenly flickered and projected a larger-than-life human image. Startled, I took a step back to find a Diasord still pinioned against the small of my back. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to look up.
The flickering, technicolour image towering above us – as real as any flesh and blood – was perfect Cassius down to every single tiny detail. Except this Cassius was taller, broader, swarthier, and enhanced in every way to confirm his imperial status. He was dressed from head to foot in royal purple, a gleaming crown on his head and ceremonial mace in his hand, while beside him slathered a hound that had become nearly as familiar to me as Jas. Brutus. It was all played to perfection. A scene of which Nero himself would have been proud.
I recalled the man who’d slithered away like a snake over the ancient cathedral stone only months before, and contempt coursed through my body. Arafel would still exist if I’d remained deaf to Atticus’s plea, and finished him when I had the chance.
I can pay.
My promise to Prince Phaethon loomed at the forefront of my mind.
Give them back, give Eli back … stand beside us against Cassius – and I will pay in blood.
‘I’m coming for you,’ I whispered so quietly no one else could hear.
Just as a rough hand gripped me by the scruff of my neck, forcing me to my knees.
‘Afford your new Emperor some respect!’ the peacock hissed against my right cheek.
As my face hit the dirt, I saw the crowds of Pantheonites dropping to their knees, a show of absolute deference to the Emperor, and a streak of defiance claimed my taut body. Didn’t they know it was impossible to get lower than a death adder?
Pushing back, I jumped to my feet. I had nothing else to lose, and the young girl’s words were still burning in my mind.
‘Look, Mama, it’s the Outsider.’
What wa
s the point of being the only Outsider, and behaving like everyone else?
‘I defer to no Insider!’ I yelled, watching a sea of eyes around me shrink with horror.
Perhaps the chemicals charging my veins were having some counter-effect, I thought as my rebellious tone rose above Cassius’s voice. I’d never felt more feral in my life.
‘Can you hear me, Cassius? I defer to no Insider, let alone an old yellow-bellied snake purporting to be a man!’
The blow that followed muted the guard’s hissing diatribe, and I was almost grateful for the bitter taste of iron that filled my mouth. It was real, unlike the city and people surrounding me.
I was hauled back onto my knees as the world returned to monochrome.
‘… historic for two reasons … Firstly, today we announce the completion of our most glorious Temple of Mars in honour of our new Civitas. It is a symbol of our glorious future, since the vanquishing of the Prolet uprising led by deserter Augustus Aquila, and it will not be tarnished by those who have betrayed our honour.
‘Moreover, today we are celebrating the glorious enlightenment of an entire generation. Rejoice, my Roman compatriots, and join me in celebrating one of the original aims of the Biotechnical Programme, the final translation of our most precious ancient Voynich code!’
The crowd erupted as something wet dripped down my ear, and then the image flickered again. This time Cassius was standing on the wide steps of what looked to be a Roman temple, the crown upon his head alight with golden flames, and a precious book cradled in his hands.
There was a succession of stifled gasps and I knew instantly it was the Voynich, the book I’d vowed to burn on a funeral pyre. It might be filled with ancient myths, but now I knew its secrets were a legacy of fire, better turned to ash than flesh and blood.
As we watched, the coding floated out from the book and curled into thin snakes around his head, moving faster than anyone could watch, a medusa in a scientific world. It seemed more than fitting that his alter ego was a creature famed for calcifying veins.
‘The final translation of the Voynich is a glorious moment, and we will be remembered as the Civitas that built a new-world order! Now we can re-create glorious creatures that were victims of man’s weak folly – ancient glorious creatures that once graced a richer earth.
‘With an army of beasts at our command, we will rule as our ancestors did, with honour, valour and a knowledge that a new era has dawned. The era of Imperator Cassius, last of the Constantinian Dynasty, Protector of Isca Pantheon and Conqueror of the outside world!’
A shocked whisper ran through the crowd as the coding vibrated, firing Cassius’s opal eyes with a glittering ruby shadow. The effect was mesmerizing and oppressive. He looked every inch a powerful new god of the underworld. Deity-worthy. Then the coding snapped back towards his head before breaking free like a cloud of silent birds. And yet it was his smile that stilled me.
It was overlarge, his teeth bared like a wolf in Roman clothing. Too wide, too sharp, too bright. It was a smile of victory – over me, over Arafel and over all Outsiders.
I swallowed, feeling the tip of his teeth press into my jugular momentarily. It had to be my imagination, and yet the impression was so real I had to fight the impulse to lift my fingers and brush it away.
Finally, the image flickered and disappeared, sending the planetary system whirring into action above our heads. They retracted swiftly, straight up into the Dome’s natural atria where the hagas wasted no time in voicing their own raucous reception.
And as though Cassius hadn’t just promised the complete obliteration of the real, outside world as a new Dynastic Emperor-God, the crowd turned to resume their day, shopping and exchanging pleasantries. It was silently, breathlessly terrifying. Their determination to ignore the single biggest threat to their everyday existence. How long before Cassius decided they were inferior too and designed a new species of Pantheonites, together with bigger, stronger, smarter creatures – more teeth, more claws, greater intellect … Where would it all stop?
Did they not realize they were in as much danger as the Prolets?
My thoughts clouded painfully. Although I’d glimpsed Therry in the laundry, I’d not seen any of the other young Prolets we found beneath the ruins of the Dead City since I awoke. Their pale, gaunt faces flickered through my head and I clenched my teeth, praying some of them were still alive, that there was still time for me to turn it all around. Somehow.
‘Isn’t that the feral girl? Didn’t the Minotaurus …?’
‘Sssh! The Cyclops broke its neck … But who’d have thought she’d survive?’
‘Survival is what Outsiders have been doing for two hundred years!’ I threw as the young Pantheonite women passed by. ‘In the real outside world, not a gilded cage!’
They looked around my age, dressed in long silken togas and with head jewellery shaped like oversized dragonflies. They paused, shocked that a feral prisoner would understand, let alone respond, before moving swiftly on. They didn’t look back.
There was another sharp blow to the small of my back, and I staggered forward, feeling my courage falter momentarily. I was barefoot, in a white laboratory tunic and heavily guarded and all they saw was the feral girl. The last of her kind. I represented a dying world and I could sense the curiosity and fear in the eyes of all who rested on me.
How could I possibly be enough?
Bereg’s training reached through the dust.
Fear is simply a matter of perspective, Talia. Make a move, change the light and the hunted becomes the hunter.
I gritted my teeth. I had to be enough.
We’d arrived in the biggest square, having circumnavigated Cassius’s towering statue, which looked even more grotesque close up. His hard, sculpted eyes seemed to look in every direction at once, despite their lack of life, and I worked hard to suppress a shudder as we marched past.
‘The Temple of Mars … All hail the Emperor Cassius and the Empress Livia!’
The peacock’s reedy voice rang out as we paused at the bottom of a set of wide, formal steps rising to an imposing temple porch, with too many thick columns to count. The columned front disappeared back into the formal temple entrance, guarded by four armoured gladiators, and huge stand-alone burning torches wafting some sort of bittersweet oily scent towards us.
Mars, the God of War?
I swallowed to contain my nausea.
The Romans revered two types of gods, Talia – those they believed created the universe in all its glory, and those they were forced to worship on pain of death. They called them Emperor-Gods.
Grandpa’s words fitted so neatly. It was the most perfect propaganda for any psychotic dictator obsessed with redesigning the world.
Cassius was the Emperor-God kind who destroyed threatening communities and deciphered ancient texts; the kind who bred an army of ancient creatures to protect the Civitas. Cassius was a benevolent Emperor-God, unless you wanted a real life and freedom.
I stared back at the new Temple of Mars, glinting in the powdery light and surpassing all else in its wake. Each of its monstrous pillars, each nearly the width of the Great Oak, reached high to meet the pitched roof while the porch was adorned with a whole array of gleaming Roman sculptures. I didn’t need a closer look to know most were sycophantic dedications to himself.
And behind the imposing temple, like a silent bodyguard, was the shadowy profile of the Flavium. My throat constricted. Arrogant Cassius had made his lair right here in the centre of his web, like a synthetic emperor insect, cocooned among his workers.
‘All hail the Emperor Cassius and the Empress Livia!’
The hairs prickled on the back of my neck. The guards were moving.
The heavily armoured gladiators started down the wide steps, their Equite insignias catching the bright light of the faux sun high up among the hagas. I stared at the black-crested eagle on the swag of their military armour, and caught my breath. The ancient aquila. These had to be soldiers o
f the second Augusta Legion, August’s Legion, and as two of them descended I thought I caught a glimpse of a faint scowl beneath a visor.
Was it one of August’s soldiers?
The soldiers saluted with perfect timing, forming a closed guard with the peacock and another behind me, before marching back up the steps towards the gaping black archway at the rear of the temple porch.
I focused on the neck of the Equite who scowled as we moved.
‘Commander General Augustus Aquila would be so proud.’
My words were quiet but unmistakable.
His shoulders tightened as we approached the arched entrance guarded by two burning torches as tall as Unus. There was a moment of darkness and then we passed into one of the largest stone chambers I’d ever seen in my life. I suppressed a sharp gasp, as my gaze took in the richly coloured swathes of fabric surrounding us. Gold and silver hangings drooped from the ceiling like scrolls from heaven, while every wall was adorned with intricate, exquisite frescos.
The Equites didn’t pause but made their way diagonally across the large echoing stone chamber, while I absorbed the ornate surroundings in disbelief. The rich frescos were scenes of perfect, idealized Pantheonite life.
There were temples, carvings and fountains, starry constellations and opulent tables laden with perfectly ripened food. Victorious gladiators played the roaring Flavium crowd, heads of mythological beasts dangling from their strong golden hands while more beasts feasted on rebellious Prolet corpses.
Smiling Pantheonites sat around in large family groups, laughing and feasting, looking towards a ceiling fresco of Cassius, his arms outstretched and a crown of gold laurel leaves tapering into tiny burning torches. A laughing Mars, the God of War, leaned in conspiratorially, while Vulcan, the God of Fire, watched and smiled.
My eyes lingered on Cassius’s onyx eyes. The artist had captured them perfectly and their cold unflinching stare was unmistakable, even in a fresco. My strength wavered. It was all so warped and narcissistic. Who could fight a deity without a real army to bring down his lies? Here he was promising an Arcadia, when he’d obliterated the real Eden lying beyond Pantheon’s walls. He was a craftsman in terror and manipulation.
Storm of Ash Page 9
