Storm of Ash

by Michelle Kenney

  Cassius’s smiled faded a little, and I turned swiftly to avoid giving myself away. I stared out at the waiting crowd, their excitement almost tangible.

  Reissued. It was a soulless word. Where was the room for memory and emotion? How could Atticus, reissued, ever be the same boy who stood against his father’s tyranny by leading a band of Prolet children away from Pantheon and sustaining them for weeks on rodents and rainwater alone? It was the worst kind of science because it created the illusion of replacing like for like, when the real loss was to humanity. To originality.

  ‘What of love and respect, Cassius?’

  My words were out before I could stop them, betraying their feral owner. I didn’t care.

  There was a stir of movement behind us and I didn’t need to look to know Livia was stealing up silently, like a wraith.

  ‘Ever the impulsive Outsider, Talia,’ she chided. ‘One of the analyses from early biotechnical trials was the high cost of emotion to the Civitas. It’s an original Outsider trait, no more, a DNA weakness that is better controlled for those whose key purpose is to work and serve Isca Pantheon. The experience and expression of emotion is an area of special interest for me, and quite complex; however, Pantheon’s neuroscience team has finally identified the precise area of limbic system responsible. I’m delighted we’ve been able to trial a new control against this fundamental objective.’

  She drew a breath, almost as though she was being modest, while I compressed my teeth until I felt one must crack.

  ‘The new vaccine is somewhat of a personal success, and has had a demonstrable impact on resources.’

  I turned back to see Livia gazing up at Cassius, her flat voice unusually triumphant and cold eyes assessing the impact of her every clinical word. I was in no doubt she wasn’t simply intending to goad me, she really believed there was a benefit to violating people in this way, to the wholesale removal of their basic human rights.

  My thoughts flew to August, to the propaganda in Octavia’s research centre and to the way he’d always been able to hide his emotion so far beneath his Equite skin. It was why it had taken me so long to trust him, until that day in the Flavium when he’d ridden out for Unus and I. My heart flared. He’d been an early test subject with the vaccine. It was one of the reasons he’d struggled to break his loyalty to Octavia. Had she also suffocated his emotional freedom? I knew in a heartbeat she had – and that Livia was reading my thoughts.

  ‘And we’ve proven through early trials, that emotion, once under control, never quite loses its shackle.’

  Her eyes were assessing, dilating with interest as I dragged mine away. Because she’d touched a real and raw nerve. August and I had come so close to sharing everything that night in the North Mountain cave, and the intimacy had opened a door he’d fought to keep open. And yet I’d pushed him away.

  I told myself we’d traded our hearts with the Oceanids, in return for our lives. But in reality I’d buried mine beneath layers of fear, all to mask the hurt of losing so many. I’d never felt more of a coward in my life.

  It was real for me, Talia.

  It felt as though someone was pressing hot needles into the back of my eyes; perhaps Livia actually had a real point. All I did was wreak chaos, because of my weak, emotional decision-making. I’d betrayed Arafel, and failed to protect the Book as well as Mum, Eli and every other Outsider I’d ever cared about. I’d ruined my friendship with Max because I was scared of hurting him, before blindly sending him to his death. And then I’d broken the only good thing to have survived all the carnage, because I couldn’t handle the guilt. August’s iris-blues swam through my head, chased swiftly by Lake’s double-lidded honey eyes.

  And wasn’t emotion the reason I was standing here right now?

  The imperial bugles sounded again and the crowds hushed, tense with anticipation. The animals were prancing impatiently behind the tall spring-loaded track gates, and the combatants’ faces were turned towards us, awaiting Cassius’s signal.

  I tried to catch their gaze but both were locked on Cassius, and then the slight figure seated behind Atticus reached forward to whisper something. He nodded curtly, his helmet locked in his father’s direction.

  I frowned. We were a good distance away and the figure was clad in Quadriga-red race regalia leaving only the lower half of their face on view, but there was still something disturbingly familiar about them.

  I swallowed. The atmosphere in the arena was making me see ghosts.

  Cassius stepped slowly across to the edge of the stone balcony, and raised his arms in another stately gesture, savouring the moment. And the tiny dart tube nestled against my chest almost seemed to move, as though it had gained a small heartbeat of its own. I suppressed a grim smile. It was Arafel wood, made by Arafel hands. No wonder it was yearning for blood of the one that turned it all to ash.

  ‘Citizens, let us get this special Ludi day of celebration underway … I present to you, my own beloved son, Commander General Atticus for the state of Isca Pantheon!’

  ‘May the gods favour our ancient pillars of honour, valour and allegiance … Let the Games begin!’

  Chest pounding, I moved down the balcony while the crowd erupted in cheers. Though it wasn’t enough to distract from movement in the shadows around the room. Cassius’s guards were taking no chances. I was surrounded, and never felt more a trapped animal, forced to watch as what remained of my best friend raced to his death. It was the ultimate vicious mind game.

  I leaned forward over the cool stone and focused on Max, who met my gaze before looking away again, indifferent. My chest tightened. It cut me every time he ignored me, even though I knew it was unintentional.

  ‘Emotion, once under control, never quite loses its shackle.’

  Livia’s words were going to haunt me. What had happened to him since the cathedral? Was it the vaccine or had Pantheon severed his soul and dragged it out? Would he ever be the same?

  All attention was on the charioteers now. Max and Atticus saluted each other curtly before carefully wrapping the auroch reins around their wrists. I gritted my teeth. It would mean a painful dismount if either got thrown. Did every observance in this place have to be so goddamned Roman?

  Then Cassius threw up an arm in a final stately moment, and all eyes were on a small red cloth floating down towards the arena ground, like a petal forecasting a flower’s death.

  But it was enough. The roar of the crowd swallowed everything as the gates sprang open and the aurochs jerked forward, billowing up dust as the wheels of the chariots dug into the dirt track. Atticus’s team flew into the lead instantly, their larger frames and longer stride making light work of the first section. The crowd’s excitement was only chequered by the thunder of hooves circumnavigating the circus arena. It felt like a drum roll, as I fixed my eyes on their retreating forms, hardly daring to breathe.

  From this vantage I could see the full length of the course, defined by numerous sets of high-arched open gates, which had slid up as silently as the first and now divided the track at regular intervals. I scowled. There were two more sets to navigate before the track took a sharp loop back on the opposite side, and a single revolution had to be at least two kilometres. The chariots flew through the first gates, one after the other, and as they passed beneath the imposing metallic structure, the whole top bar glowed red.

  The gated arches were clearly some sort of counting mechanism.

  With the second gate behind them, they continued flying down the first length with Max closing the distance, slipping inside the gleaming black chariot’s path as they careered towards the next arch. I clenched my fingers until my nails bit into my palms. They were too close.

  The crowd gasped and sure enough, seconds later, a nerve-grating sound divided the air. I leaned as far as I dared, my stomach rolling, and caught sight of the high back wheels of the two vehicles locked together, weighing the auroch teams to the left and making Max’s leaders rear and spill outside the track. His chariot skewed
, the axis of his contraption protesting violently as, somehow, they moved forward at a punishing pace.

  The air was thick with anticipation and tiny hairs on the backs of my arms strained as Max tried to compensate, encouraging his aurochs back onto the track. The crowd gasped, before a different sound rattled throughout the tense space. The sound of something large and metallic clanking into place. I inhaled sharply, my thoughts flying to the large metallic maze that had incarcerated Max and I only months before.

  Then I realized what had created the noise: the next gate. It was flashing red while it slid inwards and downwards, reducing the space so only one chariot could pass through at a time. I stared, feeling fresh fear scuttle down my spine. They were part of the game – of course they were.

  Atticus yelled to his team, urging them to break free from Max’s equipage as their thundering, rapid hooves approached the flashing gate. I gripped the balcony harder, willing Max to break away. They were too wide, too fast and you could have heard a leaf drop as all Pantheon held its breath. Before the grinding toll of impact. There was the sickening, screeching crunch as the heavy metal of Atticus’s front wheel caught one of the arches’ metallic supports, and a billow of dust enveloped his chariot.

  ‘Strike one,’ Cassius pronounced delightedly, raising his red goblet to the crowd. Red. The colour of blood and hellfire.

  Seconds later, there was another sickening groan of metal and Max’s team of indigo aurochs pulled clear of Atticus’s grounded equipage. A small, instinctive cheer erupted amid the crowd, and I shot a startled look at the tiered seats, as the mood caught and flared in several places before quietening again.

  Cassius scanned his offending populace like a hawk, the muscle in his cheek quivering. A sea of Pantheonite faces were focused once more on the track, but the moment had been there and a strange prickling crawled across the back of my neck. Livia suddenly stepped up beside me.

  ‘Don’t get any ideas above your station,’ she hissed as both teams righted themselves and pelted back down the opposite side of the track.

  ‘It’s Ludi so a small number of Prolets have been allowed to attend, as is customary. Clearly, one or two rogue subjects have bypassed security. I assure you they will be brought to account.’

  I didn’t give her the satisfaction of a response, only made myself a silent promise to show her exactly what a real rogue subject looked like when the time was right. Atticus had recovered and was gaining again, his team’s longer stride giving him the edge on the open track. A third arched gate approached, and this time I could tell every pair of eyes was on the ominous metallic structure. I shot a look at Cassius, at the way his heavy eyelids had half-drooped over his gleaming eyes, and another shot of cold fear doused my veins.

  Sure enough, a moment later the air was filled with the sound of metallic grinding. I gripped the cold stone of the balcony, air evaporating from my lungs, as a solid horizontal bar at the top descended like a rapid guillotine, presenting the charioteers with no option but to fling themselves to the floor of the chariots and pray. An audible sigh of relief claimed the arena as both teams made it through with barely a hair’s breadth to spare.

  ‘Enough, Cassius!’ I rattled, eyeing the remaining gates spread out around the track.

  ‘Is the race not enough that you have to subject them to trickery as well?’

  He sauntered towards Livia and me, his face jubilant, no shadow of guilt that his own son was enduring the same.

  ‘But those who run with animals must know the nature of a circus … surely?’

  And I could see this was his dream moment, to stand with me and prove the iron fist of his Civitas was always stronger than the guttering hopes of an outside world.

  ‘Is your ego still so fragile?’ I scathed. ‘I haven’t forgotten the snake in the cathedral that crawled on his belly and hid behind his son! Do you forget, I still have something you want?’ My voice was as icy as a North Mountain storm as the crowd roared again. We both knew that while he held Mum, I was firmly within his grip.

  ‘And I have something you want,’ he glittered smoothly, ‘so the only question remaining is who wants what the most?’

  He turned his attention to the track once more, but his words hung on the air between us. Somehow, I knew he wasn’t talking about either Mum or Max this time, and my mouth went suddenly dry.

  What or who else could Cassius possibly hold that I might want?

  I eyed him with fresh suspicion. There was something in the sardonic twist of his lips that betrayed new excitement. And it sent pure adrenaline haring through my veins. Then the ground started to vibrate. Startled, I swung my gaze back to the arena to see a large black grill was growing swiftly up and around the perimeter of the entire track, separating the watching spectators from the contestants.

  Beads of sweat broke out across my hairline. I ran my eye around the whole, resisting the panic climbing my throat. The grill was just the right height for keeping the outside and inside very separate.

  Cassius stepped around to enclose me between himself and Livia, before reaching out to place his soft hand over mine, and this time I was unable to prevent myself from jerking it away.

  ‘You see, things are never quite what they seem in Pantheon, Talia; that’s the beauty of being the first Imperator.’

  His eyes flashed again as the black grill changed direction and slid inwards for about three metres until it ground to a silent halt, leaving only a high central square open to the air. I swallowed down the rocks collecting in my throat. Whatever, or whoever, it was designed to contain, he clearly wasn’t taking any chances with his own skin.

  But I didn’t disguise the look of vile disgust spreading across my face. Of course it wouldn’t be just a race with guillotine gates, nothing in Pantheon was ever that simple. There was always an ugly edge, something that personalized Cassius’s maligned nature. I scanned the imposing structure, trying to find its weak spot and my fear spiralled again. The structure was so reminiscent of the black spider maze, of Ludi Pantheonares and the bellowing bull, and of nearly losing Max once already. Could I really stand here and do the same again?

  ‘Who is it, Cassius?’

  My voice was low and hard.

  And I was done with his games and surprises. If there was someone else I needed to worry about, I needed to know now. Not later.

  ‘Tstch, Talia, where’s your patience … our little feral cat?’

  My eyes flew to his, onyx-blacks hardening to black water pearls. Laughing at me, relishing every torturous second. And suddenly I knew. He wasn’t talking of Eli, or any of the remaining Outsiders.

  It was August. He was talking about August.

  The bugles blared again. It was a different call, signalling a change in the game, and as both chariots careered towards the second hairpin turn, the walls of the closed buildings on the island began to retract downwards. My breath shortened as the arena light spilled inwards, revealing heavy, entwined limbs that reminded me of Cassius’s molossers. It was only as the animals climbed lazily to their feet that I saw they bore more resemblance to cats than dogs. Cats with snow-white-flecked coats. The hot needling behind my eyes returned, only this time it fanned out across my skin.

  Cassius was watching me, gripping me in his brutal claws like the dead Aquila, squeezing until my very last ounce of feral will crumbled.

  I could feel his eyes darkening, willing me to break. To give in to the pain. A howling black hole of pain. Like the vortex outside our mountain cave. My gut twisted.

  ‘Jas?’

  My whisper was hollow, betraying nothing though my head was filled with the moment Jas had leapt for Brutus in the research centre, trying to protect us before she disappeared. To think she’d also been caught and incarcerated here was so hard and yet I knew to break right now was exactly what Cassius wanted.

  Give him nothing, I repeated, schooling my face till it hurt. And he was furious. Knowing I was still fighting, refusing to give him the reaction he wante
d, refusing to ask if he was talking of August.

  ‘Perfectus! Not just your substandard breed of course, but the useful DNA extracted and mixed up with an ancient breed, courtesy of the Voynich, et non vos! A new, improved species – one worthy of inheriting a recovering world.’

  I trained my eyes back on the arena, forcing myself to think as the biggest snow-leopard hybrid rose and stretched, its long, extended canines glinting in the lights.

  ‘Machairodontinae is a particular success of the Biotechnical Programme, thanks to the Voynich translation,’ Cassius continued as though conducting a tour, not watching beasts preparing for a killing spree.

  ‘An extinct subfamily of carnivore mammals, they aren’t true mythological creatures at all of course – but oh they are entertaining! Unfortunately, we had to void several test specimens, but once we had achieved my specification, it was surprisingly straightforward to breed an alpha pack.’

  ‘Sabre-tooths,’ I whispered.

  But my erratic thoughts were elsewhere entirely, imagining August riding back to Arafel, only to find it razed to the ground and no one there. What would he have done?

  Guilt bled through me like a river.

  Of course I knew, I’d always known. He would have come straight here, to challenge Cassius and find out what had happened to everyone. To me. We’d parted like strangers. What pain would he have endured when he returned to find the outside he was fighting for just an ashen memory of itself? Its people gone. His person gone? What would Cassius and Livia have done with him?

  The hybrids were on their feet now, their thickened rear limbs as heavy and powerful as forest bears. But these weren’t creatures built for lumbering, instead the rise of their haunches and tilted design were all about speed and power. And they were big, like the heaviest forest tigers. I drew a shallow breath as the creatures gathered at the edge of their enclosure bars, their canines glinting out from their flecked-white coats. It was a colour I’d so long associated with home, with watchful golden eyes, and the courage of a special cat who’d somehow found a path over the treacherous mountains into the Dead City, in pursuit of her beloved Eli.