Storm of Ash

by Michelle Kenney

  I gazed out at the bright arena, lost in thought, and my eyes settled on the powerful haunches of the new molossers the guards were exercising. Cassius’s favourite pack of slathering watchdogs were bigger than the originals, and dark grey with thick wolfish heads and elongated canines. I knew without question they were the result of more DNA mixing, more Voynich experimentation. Were these destined for the outside world? What kind of world would it be for a child anyway?

  I reached for a piece of chicken. It was moist, tender and fell apart in my fingers, taking me back to Arafel and home-cooked dinners around Mum’s cooking pot.

  ‘And Atticus?’ I whispered, ignoring the sudden tightness in my chest.

  I poured some apple cordial, spilled it deliberately, and leaned towards Servilia as I mopped the table with a paper towel.

  ‘The Commander General Atticus Aquila lives with the Emperor … has been declared his official successor … if that ever happens.’

  Servilia’s whisper rang in my ears as I stared down at my half-eaten chicken, remembering the boy who’d bitten the head off a rat just to prove his loyalty to the PFF, Aelia’s Prolet Freedom Fighters.

  Where was that fire now? And what had Cassius done to ensure his compliance?

  Suddenly, the unit entrance door bleeped. It was a heavily guarded door that only ever opened to admit new or departing combatants, and everyone swung their head in the direction of the unexpected intrusion. It was a doorway that changed things, unlike the exit that led to the baths.

  Four satyrs shuffled in with the new combatant pinioned between them. He seemed small yet deceptively strong, resisting his entry with every fibre of his wiry body, while his neck tattoo danced beneath the bright white lights. Neck tattoo. My chest began to thump. It was blue and twisted like a river that reached from his dirty collar up his sinewy neck, making three wolfhounds cavort with delight as he was thrown to the floor.

  Wildfire chased my limbs, just as a cool hand closed over my own. A warning hand.

  ‘Have caution.’

  Servilia’s whisper was barely discernible, yet she was flustered too. I could tell.

  ‘He betrayed us,’ I returned hoarsely, not caring who overheard me.

  And in a heartbeat I was back in the cathedral with Max, staring up at the figure behind Cassius, at the man who’d lived like a rat in the latrines beneath Isca Prolet only to give up his own people the moment his inked skin was under threat. I could still hear the children’s screams ripping through the night air as the black aquila dived, still see the waxen sheen creeping across Aelia’s face, and the warmth fading from Max’s hands. It was just before August and I were taken, dropped to the icy depths of Isca’s river, and brought back from the edge of the abyss by the Oceanids.

  I’d hoped the man responsible for so much pain had been trampled underfoot by one of Cassius’s prized griffins – eaten slowly perhaps. But now I could see now he was alive, and if not well, then at least whole. What had he lost? When the rest of us had traded so much?

  I could feel the rage swelling within me, and swore as Servilia’s slim grip tightened. She was trying to protect me, and didn’t realize it was already too late. I closed my eyes in the raw hope that when I opened them again, his sprawled figure would be anywhere else.

  But he was still there. As was the moment he told Cassius about the cathedral, spilling the blood of so many innocents and people I loved.

  He climbed to his feet, looking dazed, before running his gaze along the wooden lunch table and freezing on the spot. His head swung into reverse, lingering firstly on Servilia and finally me. And the flash of sudden fear on his face said everything.

  Somehow he’d managed to evade or reject the vaccine. And I took slow vengeful satisfaction as his realization grew through shock into the sly gleam that seemed to be so natural to him.

  I was across the table like a forest cat before he had time to prepare. Head first and claws out, I barrelled into his core, the velocity of my attack powering him backwards against the security door. As the guards’ swearing filled the air, I ripped him away from the door and forced him to the floor, the speed of my attack giving him no opportunity to react. Then I was astride his back, my napkin around his throat, before he could so much as gasp my name.

  ‘I hope it was worth it!’ I hissed, leaning in so it was just him and me.

  He gurgled something unintelligible, clawing at the unrelenting pressure around his throat as a jug of cold water doused us both, and rough hands closed around my upper arms. I kicked out with my feet, so determined to end his squalid little life, but I was no match for a disgruntled satyr.

  ‘Release the combatant!’

  The satyr’s voice was thick, his powerful grip restricting my blood flow and making my arms feel numb.

  ‘Guess you know what makes me so special now,’ I hissed as I was yanked away, my dead arms pinned behind me.

  He rubbed his neck, which had turned a satisfying shade of purple, as he clambered up. His eyes were fixed on me, and I was satisfied to see the sly gleam was quite gone.

  ‘Thanks,’ he wheedled to the satyr, earning a sharp kick from one of the nearby Pantheonite Guards.

  ‘Silence!’

  I shot the guard a look.

  ‘You can release her. Cassius wants a race tomorrow not a parade of the wounded!’

  It was Grey. Tomorrow? I blinked my acknowledgement as the satyr dropped me with a grunt, the hushed room slowly returning to normal.

  ‘Show’s over!’ Grey barked, reaching down to haul me to my feet as the satyr pushed Rajid towards one of the empty beds. ‘Get on with your lunch.’

  I threw them both a look of contempt. Did they really think they could leave him in the same unit and not expect consequences?

  ‘There’s a plan.’

  I froze as Grey’s whisper reached through the low rise of clinking plates and subdued chat.

  ‘Just stay alive.’

  ***

  The clock in the ceiling appeared to be speeding up. Only moments ago it was midnight, and now it was close to 06.00. I still wasn’t used to the 24-hour clock all Pantheonites seemed to observe like it was in some way intrinsic to their being. In Arafel we rose when it was light, ate when we were hungry and slept when we grew tired.

  But here, time was a jailor too.

  I rolled over to stare at the opaque wall, exhausted yet buzzing. Sleep was impossible. I sat up and swung my legs off the bed, before forcing myself to look outside at the arena. The Sweepers were already busy cleaning the track, in preparation for Ludi Cirque later today.

  A smaller cart trundled by, drawn by two black winged horses. There were two gladiatorial guards up front and a third riding at the back. But it was the guard seated nearest to me, his proud gleaming uniform catching the arena lights, who held my attention. He wore no helmet and his golden Outsider skin was unmistakable. Max.

  I struggled to take a breath. It was the first time I’d seen him in weeks and though I knew this day was coming, the reality was a real shock. My heart started to thump as the equipage followed a curve around one end of the track, and disappeared inside a black tunnel. Max was here. I swallowed hard. And the race was today.

  Today was the first day of the rest of our lives, or the last.

  The alarm sounded, piercing my thoughts as the walls faded back to semi-transparent. It was the five-minute warning. I reached for my day-robe, before swiftly plaiting my hair and pushing any escaping strands behind my ears. If it was to be our last, I wasn’t going to be mistaken for anyone but Talia Hanway, feral Outsider.

  ‘And last rightful keeper of the Book of Arafel,’ I muttered beneath my breath.

  I nodded at Servilia as the walls disappeared entirely, before narrowing my eyes in the opposite direction. The men slept along the opposite wall and Rajid had been given the unit nearest the baths exit. He was seated on his bed this morning, watching the room with an expression that threatened to ruin my breakfast. I dragged my eyes away, Grey�
�s words echoing through my head. Staying alive started with staying away from Rajid.

  As it turned out, Cassius’s Guard came before lunch to read the official decree, and combatants could only listen in stony silence as several numbers were selected. Mine came as no surprise.

  ‘Citizen MMDCL! You have accepted a challenge from the Emperor Cassius to prove your honour and allegiance to the Civitas.’

  ‘The Emperor awaits your company at 1500h. Your charioteer has selected colours and you are required to make preparations.’

  A second guard thrust out a neat pile of what looked to be folded clothes as I walked forward slowly. The tunic was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It was indigo blue, with rushes of gold throughout, as though the sun had breathed into it as it was spun. And beneath there was a different material – folded calf-skin leather that looked as soft as down, and finished with a thin, plaited golden belt. I stared at the fine Pantheonite clothes as a million ugly thoughts reared their horns.

  Was this part of the trap? To strip me of my identity and dress me up as fine as any of Pantheon’s caged birds to prove that I was finally under control? Under his control?

  ‘And if I refuse to wear them?’ My voice was gritty.

  The first guard lifted his eyebrows in amusement as one behind shifted, eyeballing me, trying to dissuade me from causing a scene. Grey again. I scowled.

  ‘It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve assisted with individual preparations.’ The first guard smiled too widely.

  Grey’s eyes were pleading.

  I grabbed the clothes, and bit my tongue, suppressing the impulse to throw their precious clothes back in their faces.

  ‘Citizen MDCLII! You have also accepted an invitation from Emperor Cassius to prove your honour and allegiance to the Civitas.’

  His second announcement quieted my blood, and I knew, even before I turned.

  ‘You will accompany the challenger in the faction red Quadriga. Collect your uniform.’

  Rajid stood up and sauntered across the room, pausing a pace away with a tentative, toothless nod. He was fresh from the baths and yet, somehow, still managed to reek of old leather and sweat.

  Shooting me a wary glance, the second guard took a step forward and thrust a matching indigo uniform at him. It included thick leather gloves and a solid helmet, similar to the one August had first worn in the forest.

  I stared, barely processing what was happening. Rajid couldn’t ride with Max. He was no better than Cassius’s pet – a snake’s snake – with no respect for anyone or anything. It was a trap!

  ‘No!’ I forced out vehemently so there could be no mistake. ‘He can’t ride with Max. It has to be me … it was always me!’

  ‘Request declined,’ the first guard responded with a glint of a smile. ‘The Emperor has issued an extraordinary decree for the Quadriga race today.’

  I stared at him, feeling colour drain from my face.

  ‘You have received the greatest honour of the Civitas Citizen MMDCL, and are to join Emperor Cassius on his balcony – as his distinguished guest.’

  Chapter 15

  I surveyed my appearance in the wall-length mirror opposite. In Arafel’s twilight forest there had been no mirrors, only shady pools to offer a glimpse of my sandy hair and dirt-streaked face.

  Now, for the first time, I could really look at myself, clad in my enemy’s standard. And if there ever had been an Outsider rule book, I knew I was breaking every single one. With my hair smoothed and straight, my nails preened, my forest body poured into an outfit that bore no relation to who I was or what I represented, I was no longer Talia of Arafel, one of the last Outsiders. I was a fake and an imposter. It was as though I had been centrifuged and pushed into a Pantheonite mould, so I finally looked sanitized – like one of them.

  ‘I can now confirm the outbreak in the vermin subspecies has been brought under control,’ I mimicked, watching the way my lips formed the words in the mirror.

  The Ludi Cirque bugle sounded somewhere outside the thick walls, and for just a millisecond I was back in Arafel, listening to the ibex horn announce the start of the hunter trials. My mind dragged up the image of its charred white handle protruding from the blackened branches that had once protected my people.

  The horn’s tapered point, dirtied by smog and battered by the onset of monsoon winds, had barely been visible above a growing layer of ash and debris. I knew because it was one of the images played over and over again by the planetary media system.

  ‘It’s time, Talia.’

  Servilia’s voice was low as she finished tying the thin plaited leather belt under the guard’s watch. Thankfully, my Prolet ally had volunteered to help when the guards required a dresser, and she was the only reason I was ready at all.

  For the past hour we’d been forced to listen to the arena excitement and ceremony fanfare, and it had done little to steady my nerves.

  ‘Welcome, citizens of Isca Pantheon, to this two hundredth anniversary of Isca Pantheon Ludi, and we have an extraordinary Ludi Cirque celebration today. Chosen charioteers have begun making preparations for this special day and your benevolent Emperor Cassius will himself officiate over the special Ludi charioteer challenge.

  ‘Two gladiatorial knights will compete in one race to determine their honour, valour and allegiance to the state of Isca Pantheon. Whose colour will you fly? Faction red or faction blue? Choose your Quadriga carefully, and book your seats now.’

  My pale face stared back accusingly, and I knew I’d played right into Cassius’s manipulative hands. How had I ever agreed to this? To watch Max gamble his life? For me. Again. How had I even thought that this could be a chance? That I had any control while he still held Mum?

  I imagined August’s iris-blues crinkling with disappointment.

  You were meant to save the whole damned world, he whispered.

  The Commander General is dead, Grey echoed from elsewhere.

  I closed my eyes, forcing all the voices from my head. I couldn’t be distracted, not today of all days, when Max needed me most.

  I spread my fingers in a bid to release their tension. Even if Max won, which was unlikely enough with Rajid riding beside him, he still wasn’t Max. And if Cassius honoured his promise to let us walk from Pantheon if the dice rolled unexpectedly in his favour, what then? How could there be a future with a second Armageddon stirring?

  And yet there was no other path but this now. Cassius’s scientists had carried out more tests than I could number, but they still didn’t understand the control in my blood, I could tell by the frustration written into their faces. He would still need me when he located Lake. Which meant I had to believe in this wager, and that Max and Mum stood a chance.

  ‘There,’ Servilia muttered, her dramatic dark eyes wide with awe. ‘You look …

  ‘Like one of them?’ I finished tersely, staring straight into the mirror.

  My eyes seemed wider, bluer against the indigo of my soft tunic top. It was the only part of the forest left. I fixed on them intently; they swam, opening a brief doorway to Grandpa. He was still there.

  Feral means free, Talia, he whispered, wrapping me in Arafel sunlight and filling every vein with the beat of the forest.

  ‘Like a warrior.’ Servilia smiled, before shooting a quick look at the guard absorbed in his identifier.

  ‘You have only to stay alive,’ she whispered, echoing Grey’s words and pressing something into my right hand.

  I started as my fingers wrapped around a small wooden item on twine that had become as beloved as my old slingshot, long since lost to the Oceanids. She shook her head before schooling her face and turning away. Swiftly I slipped the item over my head and tucked it out of sight, suddenly better armed than if she had presented me with a broadsword fired in the pit of hell.

  It was a hand-carved object that would hold no value for anyone else in the world, and yet there was no equal treasure for me – Max’s tiny treehouse dart tube. It had been taken from me,
when I was under the influence of the vaccine, and I’d given up on ever seeing it again. Now, the feel of its small solid shape against my skin – weapon and symbol of hope in one – lifted my heart. And snug inside the tube, my swift fingers had made out the shape of a single carved dart, weighted perfectly with tiny Komodo teeth.

  One of Ida’s darts?

  I lifted my eyes incredulously. Servilia was fixing a long piece of gold brocade in my hair. I wouldn’t let her dress it the Pantheonite way, and had asked her to plait it instead, but on this small adornment I’d relented. She caught my gaze in the mirror.

  ‘How?’ I mouthed, hoping she could read the gratitude in my eyes.

  ‘Rajid.’

  I lip-read her unexpected response as the bugle sounded again. This time it was joined by a litany of other instruments, creating an imperial fanfare that brought three new guards to the door.

  ‘Tempus movere!’

  The words seemed to swallow the room, and as I turned, blood pounding in my ears, I thought I caught a glimpse of double-lidded honey eyes, just watching and waiting.

  ***

  The triumphant announcements grew steadily louder and more pompous as we climbed the wide, marble staircase that led to Cassius’s balcony. And with each step, a more complete view of the arena grew through the transparent external wall.

  Its elongated appearance was at odds with the circular Flavium, stirring memories of tales about an ancient Roman chariot-racing stadium situated somewhere between the Aventine and Palatine hills of Rome. It was a place where the real Emperors of Rome meted out justice and punishment, dressed as entertainment, and few charioteers walked away alive. I doubted Cassius had more noble motives.

  I studied the arena as carefully as I could, Bereg’s training running through my head. Hunting or defending, know your territory as well as you can. Lack of knowledge is the first step to failure, Talia.