And although the Ludi Cirque track moved further away with each step, it was still much larger than had first appeared through my unit window. The tiered seats had to support more than 100,000 souls when all was said and done.
I swallowed the stone in my throat. My new leather boots felt awkward against my skin and restricted my Outsider feet. And yet the tiny dart tube, nestling beneath my indigo tunic, was a real piece of Arafel – a piece of the forest, shaped by the sun and a pair of golden hands who deserved so much more than this. Who deserved so much more than a ghost girl who, for some unfathomable reason, was still here, and was now determined to thwart Cassius with every breath left in her body.
The only thing that made sense.
The crowd stirred as a single charioteer, dressed in indigo blue from head to foot, emerged from one of the tunnels and walked directly across to a liveried chariot. I baulked as the world slewed, before running towards the glass wall separating me from the outside, and pummelling my fists as hard as I could.
‘Max!’ I yelled desperately. ‘I’m here, Max! Max, look up!’
But of course, he couldn’t hear me, and even if he could there was no guarantee he would actually look. Why should he when he didn’t even know me?
Seconds later, rough hands seized my arms, bruising them and dragging me away, forcing me on and up the grand staircase that seemed as though it might never end until, finally, we came face to face with a pair of ornate carved doors.
The gods of Mars and Vulcan looked back at me, smiling in that same satirical way Cassius had perfected, and holding a small sphere between them. It was clearly intended to be the world, and above the tiny globe, a fierce draco-chimera with double-lidded eyes threw out her wings.
I yanked my arms away from the surprised guards and set my jaw stubbornly. Lake wasn’t his yet. And neither was I.
‘Think I can take it from here,’ I hissed, grabbing the gleaming golden handles and pushing them with a violent thrust.
They melted back into the corridor as a swell of noise reached out to engulf me, suffocating every other sense. The fortified glass walls had cushioned the noise of the gathering crowd, but these rooms were open to the arena, and the excitement below was so vivid as to be tangible.
I stepped into a luxuriously swathed, marble-floored chamber that swept outwards in a circular fashion before tapering back in towards a wide balcony featuring two raised thrones, beside two more chairs at ordinary mortal height.
A contemptuous smile fleeted across my lips as I spotted Cassius and Livia reclining on a wide cushioned daybed to the right of the balcony. It was almost funny. They’d projected so much of their own rhetoric they were really starting to believe it, and as he rose he gestured languidly with hands decorated with precious-looking rings. Briefly I wondered which museums and art collections he’d raided in the Dead City to acquire them.
‘Ah here she is, Livia, our guest of honour! And looking quite the prize today if I may say so,’ he drawled, his gaze lingering on my figure-hugging outfit. ‘Yes, I knew that colour would suit. Something about the overexposed skin tone of your species that befits colour.’
My cells withered as he meandered across the room towards me, closing down the distance and poisoning my air. The difference between Octavia and Cassius was that he really believed in his own deity status. It was a critical difference, that made him far less predictable. He paused in front of me, a curious look in his eyes as he reached out to finger the gold braid running through my hair, brushing the tip of my cheek softly as he did so. His quite deliberate action stirred the very pit of my stomach, and I clenched every muscle I possessed, determined to resist the urge to reach out and plant my knuckles in his gloating face too soon.
Which was when I noticed a glinting white line just beneath his left eye. It was a scar I put there, the day he’d used his son as a human shield, in Isca’s ancient cathedral. I smiled.
‘The only prize will be your honour, which will be part of the track dirt beneath our feet by the time I’m finished.’
His onyx eyes gleamed with malice. ‘Always the fighter, Talia,’ he murmured nonchalantly, lifting his hand as though he might touch me again before catching the look in my eyes.
‘So full of wild energy. Wouldn’t it be a relief to put some of that into my hands? When your patched-up forest friend loses against my champion, you will see there was only ever one way forward anyway. Though I must admit you had me thinking you might stand a chance with your little feral stand back in the temple.
‘Oh that was indeed your moment, if ever you had one, to push terms. But nice Talia, noble Talia, couldn’t abandon the young Prolets, or her friends, or indeed her mother … And that, I’m afraid, is your perennial Outsider weakness. Conscious thought, independent will. These are such … draining aspects of original human nature. My trial species will be less troubled by such wasteful emotions.
‘But now … time for our wager!’
He clapped his hands imperiously, his lack of conscience so apparent it was terrifying.
‘There is nothing like a little bloodletting to raise spirits! And besides, I have a small surprise for you.’
He spun with a flourish of his purple toga, and walked towards the open balcony where the waiting crowd erupted in a cheer. I sucked in another tight breath, trying to steady my nerve.
You are like a black leopard, Talia, Grandpa whispered, feral and free.
Though freedom had never felt more like a distant memory than now.
I lifted my head, and forced my feet towards the open balcony, not even glancing at Livia as the outside view rose up to greet me like a page ripped directly from Grandpa’s book of mythology.
Ludi Cirque Pantheonares. For a moment I barely breathed. It was as though I’d stepped back through aeons of time and was staring directly at one of Rome’s most famous arenas, the ancient Circus Maximus. For all his despotic lunacy, Cassius knew exactly how to build an arena that both intimidated and dazzled with detail. From the precise rise of the occupied seating, to the gleam of burning lavender torches and endless looped track that looked as long as three Great Oak trees laid root to topmost branch, the arena was every bit as imposing as the Flavium.
But the most terrifying aspect of all, was that I wasn’t a part of it.
This time, I was an observer of the worst kind, having orchestrated the event and yet retained negligible control. Cassius loved mind games, and what better entertainment than to render the feral girl powerless in a wager that forced her best friend to fight for something he didn’t care existed any more?
The triumphant bugles crowed again and this time I could see five heralds, dressed in matching scarlet pageantry, on the opposite side of the arena. Thousands of faces swung towards Cassius, and I could see the conjecture and amazement on the faces of those closest as they glimpsed the Outsider standing next to him.
Cassius threw out his arm in a regal gesture as the crowd hushed, waiting for him to speak.
‘Citizens! We are gathered here to witness an inaugural event, a moment in history our proud forefathers would have lauded for celebrating the key pillars of our new Civitas: honour, valour and allegiance!’
I stared out across the sea of listening faces, expecting the usual fanfare of sycophantic cheering and applause, but the arena was silent. The Civitas of Isca Pantheon was listening.
‘You will no doubt recall the recent threat to this Civitas in the form of deserter Augustus Aquila? He chose to abandon Isca Pantheon after it nurtured and trained him for senior office, to live with a few weak and infected wildling vermin.
‘His disloyalty to this Civitas nearly brought shame and downfall to us all, and were it not for the courage of the Eagle aircraft battalion, who were heroic in their navigation of the North Mountains, the children of Isca Pantheon might not be facing the same bright future they do today.’
I clenched my teeth, every cell bursting with sudden vitriolic hatred. How dare he stand there and justify the razing of Arafel and
massacre of my people as some kind of humanitarian effort? My hand reached instinctively towards my concealed dart tube. I could kill him now, in front of everyone. His personal guards would make sure I was dead before his body reached the floor, but he’d be gone, and I’d have fulfilled my obligation to Prince Phaethon too.
But what of Max and Mum? They would be swallowed by Livia and the state left behind, and probably never see the outside world again.
What of August?
My hand faltered.
It wasn’t your fault.
His words swam before me, his iris-blues dulling. I’d cut him off, unable to explain anything while the pain was so raw. If I died now, he’d never know the truth.
A good hunter knows when to watch, and when to fight, Talia.
Cassius reached out and closed his hand around my wrist in a showy gesture, unaware of how close he’d come. The benevolent Emperor-God. His hold was uncomfortably tight, and a little sweaty, making my skin crawl. I baulked, curling my fingers into a tight fist as he thrust my arm into the air in a mock truce. It wasn’t the right moment, but I would take so much satisfaction when it was.
The bugles lifted again, their announcement short and decisive this time. The pageantry was done.
‘Citizens of Pantheon, you will recognize before you one of the persistent wildlings who, after trespassing inside our Civitas, conspired with Augustus Aquila and rebel members of Isca Prolet to raise an ill-advised rebellion. Thanks to intelligence, the uprising was detected and quashed before it gained any strength, and for that we can only be grateful.
‘However, we have been left with somewhat of a quandary. You will all be aware our gracious Civitas has been trialling refuge and rehabilitation with a small number of remaining Outsiders, despite their crimes against us. But this particular wildling has proven somewhat of an exception. Not only has she remained steadfast in her refusal to accept Pantheonite citizenship, she also made threats against my own life only four weeks ago.’
Cassius paused as a predictable gasp swept through the crowd. He extended a hand, as though a father placating his children. I ground my teeth.
‘I know, I know … We all know the penalty for traitors. The state of Pantheon is very clear on insubordination, and yet this lone troublemaker …’ he paused to smile glitteringly at me ‘… refuses to pledge allegiance to your most wise and magnanimous Emperor.’
There was another round of hushed gasps, and this time I couldn’t help rolling my eyes skywards.
‘But! As I am a wise and magnanimous Emperor, who believes we can all learn in the end, I’ve decided to settle this in our time-honoured way.’
Cassius paused as a louder cheer erupted. He held up both hands and over-smiled, his long Roman locks shining blue-black beneath the hot lights.
‘As is the nature of my generosity, if the offending wildling wins today, she will gain safe passage for her mother and her champion from Isca Pantheon.’
He paused to acknowledge the shocked murmur with faux benevolence; clearly these were unusual terms.
‘But if I win …’ he smiled again, his eyes gleaming with malice ‘… then she will relinquish all ties to the outside, pledge her allegiance publicly and serve her Imperator graciously and with all the respect due to our most glorious Civitas … until her dying day.’
He whispered the last words so only I could hear but it didn’t matter. I was inside my own fortress, buttressed from the all the lies, deceit and damnation. Waiting for my moment to make Pantheon’s death adder eat every last word.
An eerie silence enveloped the arena.
Did they admire or pity me? Did it matter?
‘So, without further delay, I give you the Emperor’s Charioteer racing for faction red today.’
And this time, the tiered seating fused with colour as thousands of Pantheonites took to their feet with applause that nearly deafened me. Wherever their allegiance, their love for Ludi was not in question.
Every pair of eyes swung to the top end of the arena floor as one of the large black portcullis gates began to lift. Instinctively, I stepped towards the edge of the balcony as four battle-armoured horses pulled out from the shadows, forcing me to swallow a gasp so rapidly it hurt. Because the vision took me back to Arafel’s library in a heartbeat. Not to Grandpa’s book of mythology, but to a text far far older than all the rest put together.
The four horses of the apocalypse.
The legend drew breath in the beasts rearing below us all now. Their wild, flaring mouths and shining flanks had left their mark the first time I saw them, and now these unearthly animals could be one and the same. Each had skin the colour of old blood, heavily brocaded armour and a single, twisted onyx-black horn protruding from their tossing heads.
Yet these were no faithful horses of myth and legend, these were unicorns of the underworld. Mounts of Hades.
The leaders reared, whinnying harshly as a long whip forced them into a canter, and bringing the whole equipage into view. The chariot was the same shade as the animals with high cruel wing-like panels, shaped suspiciously like blades, that tapered into a sharp end seat. It was a chariot built for risk, and the animals were already dangerously excited, tossing their fiery manes while prancing and sidestepping, as though they knew exactly what was in store.
My chest started pounding painfully.
‘It’s just a game remember,’ Max urged from my memory. ‘They want a show! And right now that means playing by Cassius’s rules, right up until we find his weak spot.’
Gritting my teeth, I focused on the charioteer perched atop the chariot from Hades, the man Cassius had chosen as Max’s combatant. He was wearing heavy scarlet armour, a black and red feather fluttering from the top of his helmet, while his profile was stiff and proud. And unmistakable. Slowly, my stomach inverted as the months peeled away until I was left with a stubborn, unsettling boy tearing the head from a dead rat with his own teeth.
I shot a glance at Cassius’s exuberant profile. Could he really be capable of sending his own son into an arena of torture for his own edification? A strange bitter taste filled my mouth, pungent and earthy. Of course he could.
Then the crowd erupted again as the thick black grill groaned upwards for a second time. I could feel the adrenaline sating my body, the blood rush drowning out the crowd as the leaders of the second team pulled out of the gloom. There was a second collective intake of breath.
These animals were blue, the colour of bluebells in the first flush of spring. They too were protected by a thick armour shot through with gold flashes, much like my own tunic, and wore indigo collars that caught the arena lights and trapped them like glittering stars. But unlike the first team, they wore only short horns upon their heads. I scowled. They looked half as ferocious as Atticus’s team.
‘A fair race, Cassius?’ I scathed. ‘You choose unicorns and then tip the odds. Too worried to level the game and give the Outsider an equal chance.’
‘On the contrary,’ he returned lazily. ‘Aurochs have proven particularly challenging to breed. I wouldn’t dream of sabotaging their species for anything so spurious. Defending champions always have the honour of racing the alpha herd.’
Aurochs … of course their species name would be different. I had a feeling their nature would be a little different to unicorns of legend too.
My gaze flew back to the track. The second team were a little smaller than the apocalyptical steeds pawing the starting line. Even to my untrained eye, I could see Atticus barely had control over them.
And now the second charioteer was pulling into open view. It was indisputably Max, clad in military armour the same colour as the aurochs and my own tunic, a single brushed indigo feather dancing atop his golden helmet. He was encouraging his team forward with the dependable strength and natural ease he’d always had around animals. And my heart ached.
Max was my best friend, and yet I’d hurt him more than anyone in my life. He was here because of me, and even now he was risking his
life because of a deal I’d made. The feral girl he probably wouldn’t even recognize. How could I call myself his best friend when all I did was put him in the worst possible danger, again and again?
‘Max versus Atticus, Cassius?’ I scorned in a voice I hoped hid my fear.
Cassius had to be so sure of his victory, to put his only son out there to take the glory. Did Max even stand a chance? And even if he did, would he even try to win for me – and against a boy? Max was always the underdog champion. Would Pantheon have changed that too?
I schooled my profile as two more figures ran out from beneath the archway and jumped onto the chariots, which had slewed to a halt before gates that had arisen from the ground, and now stretched across the track. One slight figure was clad in the same Quadriga-red faction colours as Atticus, while the other was dressed in indigo blue, like me and Max. I recognized Rajid instantly, and stifled the protest that flew to my lips. Before I would have assumed he was a backup to ensure Max’s very public demise, but since he’d passed on my dart tube via Servilia I’d begun to doubt myself. I recalled Servilia’s agitation when she first glimpsed him; that she knew and trusted him was obvious, but how?
I pictured his curious, sardonic smile and gritted my teeth – nothing would bring me to trust him again, but I did trust Servilia.
‘Yes, Atticus.’ Cassius’s eyes were gleaming. ‘What finer combatant to demonstrate what true honour, valour and allegiance really looks like than the son and heir to the imperial throne, and besides—’
‘The stakes are so loaded so as to render the race irrelevant?’ I interjected.
‘He is not indispensable,’ he continued smoothly. ‘The true beauty of Isca Pantheon’s Biotechnology Programme is that any citizen of worth can be reissued, so long as I deem it advantageous to the state.’
And then he smiled a smile that reached down my throat and twisted my gut so hard I could barely control my hand, which hovered above the thing that could wipe the smile from his obnoxious face once and for all. Atticus was barely fifteen years old, and had a father who attached no value to his life because he could re-create him at will.
Storm of Ash Page 14
