Storm of Ash

by Michelle Kenney

  Where was she now? Where were they all now?

  Each thought was a tightening thread bringing Arafel, decimated and broken, to the forefront of my mind. Like Cassius’s propaganda on a loop. The image was full of broken bodies and unseeing eyes, threatening to consume everything. How had it all come to this? My mother locked away, my brother lost, my childhood friend about to be ripped to pieces and my … whatever he was … incarcerated and probably being subjected to the worst possible torture while I just stood here.

  ‘You said a race!’ I flung out again, gripping the stone and trying to count the creatures. There had to be at least a dozen.

  ‘And they’re racing.’ He smirked, gesticulating towards their chariots, flying past the balcony again.

  He was leering, slyly savouring my slow unwind. He knew I was close to breaking point.

  That I had guessed the truth about August.

  The aurochs were now weaving wildly across the track, nostrils flaring and stride lengthening, as they sensed the impending danger. I could tell both Atticus and Max were tiring, finding it harder to maintain control, while their seconds clung to the sides of their chariots. It was as much a game of stamina as anything else.

  ‘How many laps, Cassius?’ I ground out.

  ‘Seven.’ He gleamed. ‘If they get that far.’

  I counted silently. The chariots were thundering towards their fourth hairpin bend, approaching the next arched gate at speed. It was an impossible pace for anyone to sustain let alone endure for another five laps. One tiny lapse of concentration would end it all. And all the while, the sabre-tooths were eyeing up the odds, awaiting their moment.

  ‘Call the animals off!’ I demanded. ‘Surely the prize – freedom – demands the race is conducted with something resembling honour?’

  ‘Oh e contrario, Talia! In Pantheon, the bigger the prize, the more dangerous the race!’

  He stretched out his arm again, holding a second red cloth and instantly the bugles blared. A slow metallic groan filled the air, and I held my breath as the original portcullis at the top of the arena slowly lifted, releasing another red and black equipage, which spilled onto the track at speed. The blade-door chariot with its prancing aurochs was identical to the equipage Atticus was racing, but the charioteer in control was entirely alone.

  A wild cheer erupted through the crowd as Atticus’s aurochs swerved off the track and thundered into the black archway exit, his second jumping and sprinting to join the fresh team who barely slowed. But any relief I might have felt for Atticus was sidelined, and I could only watch as though caught up in a nightmare, because every contour of the tall proud Equite tearing down the tracks in pursuit of Max was scarred into my heart.

  ‘He’s alive,’ I whispered hoarsely, the whites of my knuckles gleaming in the light.

  And I was no longer on Cassius’s balcony. I was back in the forest, watching the light die in his eyes, letting him say goodbye.

  It was real for me, Talia.

  ‘August!’ I yelled silently, as though everything might change if he knew I were up here, watching.

  But he was down there, clad in Cassius’s colours, with a two-headed aquila standard streaming from the top of his chariot as he thundered after Max.

  Where had he been? Battle-hardened … focused … a gladiator for Cassius? How on earth had he agreed to this? Where were his loyalties now?

  ‘Look at me,’ I pleaded silently.

  I needed his stony profile to spare just one fleeting glance. So I would know. But his gaze was unwavering, locked forward, and all I could do was watch as his aurochs started bearing down with all purpose on Max’s tiring team.

  ‘Never more so,’ Livia responded gleefully.

  I bit my lip.

  ‘And still quite determined to do anything for a feral Outsider or so it would seem. Which is a fascinating development for his test series. It’s a moot point: how far Augustus Aquila has overcome his original trial status.’

  I barely heard her crisp, anodyne voice, because my head was compressing with real fear. This was what Cassius predicted I would still want, the final dark twist in his plan. I drew a painful breath, trying to order my spiralling thoughts. They were both out there, racing to the death. Yet this wasn’t about them – this was all about breaking me. Controlling me. No matter how high the cost.

  There was another fanfare of bugles, before a new triumphant blast, which the creatures clearly recognized. Their bars slid down and they lumbered out of their shelter, sniffing the tense air. The biggest animal raised its canine-heavy head to the lights and roared. I felt my skin flush ice-cold, despite the warmth of the arena lights.

  No snow leopard could roar – Jas could only ever mew – yet this sound was coarse and primeval. It was also hungry.

  I leaned further, desperate not to lose track of either chariot through the billowing dust. They had rounded the top hairpin and were slewing down the opposite length again, side by side; the indigo team straining so hard the sinews in their necks were visible, even at my distance.

  Max was leaning forward intently, while Rajid appeared to have thrown himself to the chariot floor. My eyes flew to August on the outside, shaking out his long reins and roaring at his fresher team while his small second crouched low, using the high blade wings for protection.

  What fresh lies had Cassius spun to make August race against Max as though the life of everyone here depended on it?

  The small second settled as far back in the chariot as he could. They still looked familiar, and briefly I wondered who could have been tempted to ride as Atticus’s second. Tempted or forced? Was it one of the Prolet detainees? He seemed familiar somehow, so calm and logical despite his bleak predicament. And my wayward thoughts flew back to a still day with a glass river when my heart crystallized into a million pieces.

  It couldn’t be.

  I was aware my breath had grown ragged as I tried to focus on the crouching figure, to chase the ghost from my thoughts. But the moment was shattered by a succession of blood-stilling roars that reached through to my booted feet. The aurochs’ fear was tangible, and the sabre-tooths had noticed. Max threw a look into the centre. I was too far away to see his expression but I knew his lips would be set, his eyes narrowed to hunter.

  ‘Now things get a little interesting,’ Cassius drawled, tipping his goblet up and draining the contents, a tiny red drip escaping down his chin.

  I had no words left, and could only watch as the scarlet aurochs lurched ahead of the indigo team, their sudden erratic acceleration owed entirely to the predators slinking out from their lair. They lumbered purposefully, every muscle visible and distinct from the rest. The leader was in front, his wide paws padding lazily before he paused to lift his mountain eyes and claim his territory. And I could translate his call perfectly, because I’d heard it a thousand times over, among the predators of the forest. It was a call to arms, and the pack knew it too, closing the distance between themselves and the leader without hesitation.

  They were even more imposing as they came together, a silver-white arrow with their leader at the front, their bodies broad and powerful, and their eyes as blue as diamonds. But the master point of their design belonged to the gleaming teeth protruding from their thick jowls. They had to be the length of my forearm. And mesmerizing.

  There was another mechanical grinding noise and thousands of heads swung in the direction of the gate responsible. The chariots were most of the way back down the track again, the aurochs’ forelocks and backs shining as though wet from the rain. Another archway approached, and suddenly its walls projected what looked to be a hundred sharp spears into the narrow space between.

  August’s chariot skewed hard left, crashing into Max’s equipage, which lurched sickeningly. There was confused shouting, followed by the crunch of thick metal being dragged in separate directions again.

  They were both off the track in a heartbeat. I bit my lip hard, drawing drops of blood. They tasted of iron metal and the
brown earth beneath our feet, rooting me as I followed the aurochs’ frantic swaying progress across the centre of the arena. The eight-auroch conjoined contraption bolted past the watching leopards, and was halfway across the centre, before the axis of Max’s chariot buckled under the pressure, throwing Rajid high and clear of the equipage. He landed awkwardly and tumbled through the dirt, a ball of limbs until he came to a sudden, jolting still. I swallowed as the lead sabre-tooth turned his head in his direction.

  Then one of Max’s lead aurochs stumbled and his whole contraption veered wildly as August’s team pulled free and bolted. The injured auroch picked up her hooves, her back matted with sweat, her eyes wide with fear just as the lead sabre-tooth swung his broad head away from Rajid. He drank the air greedily as the remainder of his pack closed in behind, waiting for his sign.

  I was pressing so hard into the stone balcony I thought I might fall right through it. Max’s aurochs tried to rally, but it was clear the injured animal’s exhaustion and pain was too much. And then Max was tying the reins, clambering atop his chariot, and running up the backs of the spooked aurochs. The crowd gasped audibly as he caught the bridle of the frontrunners and leapt neatly astride the healthy animal’s back.

  And a curious bittersweet tingle ran down my spine. It was old instinctive Max, back in the forest. Could there be any more? The crowd hushed again, holding their collective breath as he leaned in close, trying to calm the auroch’s violent stumbling. But they were too frantic and skittish, unconvinced by his murmurings of reassurance because less than a tree length away a pack of hungry sabre-tooths were starting to advance. My head felt thick and woolly, and yet the charred remains of one thought turned over and over.

  Arafel.

  What was left of it was out there, with a pack of sabre-tooths just waiting for the perfect moment to rip it apart. The old Max would never have left me to face these odds alone. What was I doing?

  Max flashed a look over his shoulder, at Rajid’s still body, before pulling a Diasord from his waist and leaning across towards the head of the injured auroch.

  This time the crowd roared, beating time with the blood in my ears.

  There was a flash as his Diasord sliced the air, followed by the acrid scent of burning before the injured auroch stumbled weakly away, bewildered by its sudden freedom. The crowd roared their delight as Max leaned into the mane of the uninjured auroch, which was still setting a punishing pace, dragging the team and damaged chariot behind it. Cassius glowered and the crowd hushed instantly, torn between their excitement at Max’s heroics and their fear of upsetting their Emperor.

  ‘Do you want me to dispatch a guard, Cassius?’ Livia asked crisply.

  ‘Play on!’ he snarled, rounding on her like an animal himself. ‘It’s not as though the Outsider will live to realize his luck. And the Commander General has had his orders.’

  I suddenly felt clammy and cold. Why would August accept orders from Cassius now?

  Max was leaning tightly over the lead auroch’s head, but I could see it was all too fast, too erratic, and too close to the top portcullis. The auroch veered wildly, making the remaining animals whinny in terror as they all slewed, forcing the equipage onto the rim of its thin wheels. The crowd sucked in a horrified gasp and everything seemed to slow as the leader reared, kicking its hooves high in panic, and throwing Max high into the dusty red air.

  Twist, Max, twist, I begged silently.

  But whether it was the height, or his confusion, his body only slowed before dropping heavily back onto the dusty arena floor. Then there was only a moment’s breath before the teetering chariot fell like a stone, right over him.

  The world shrank as the dust cleared to reveal the rearing, panicking animals, and the lone hand of a charioteer protruding from beneath the chariot.

  And that was the moment everything stained red.

  Every thought, every reason, every face.

  I was leaping like a feral cat before I could think, leather boots crunching unfamiliarly on the stone balcony top as I paused to survey the ground in the way an animal might. Detached, focused, hunting.

  The only way to beat Hades, was to think like the devil himself.

  ‘Stop her!’

  Cassius’s furious command was lost upon the crowd, who were too caught up in the drama of the arena to care about a feral girl on the balcony.

  There was a tangle of hands, and sudden pressure around my waist and shoulders, but they weren’t driven by memories of flames engulfing their home, by visions of broken bodies, of iris-blues losing hope and of lone, still hands. I was flying before they could pull me back. It was the biggest leap of my life, down towards the circus, as though I were one of the animals I grew up with. Down towards the last of my Outsider blood.

  The cage walls rang like a cacophony of old-world bells as my hands and feet wrapped around their taut, stretched edges. And then they were morphing beneath my fingers, their cold new-world metal turning into young green branches that bent with the breeze as I scuttled along the mesh shelf.

  ‘Detain her now!’

  Cassius’s furious second command barely reached through the haze. I was assessing the forest jungle, mentally calculating the distance of my final leap and sprint towards the upturned chariot.

  ‘Talia!’

  Then I was conscious of the crowd’s attention dividing, of an awed gasp as thousands of faces swung between the girl balancing eight metres above the arena, and the small second jumping from the back of August’s moving chariot and pelting across the arena towards the crash. And even though the sabre-tooths had swung their heads with interest, I couldn’t take my eyes off the sprinting figure because she was supposed to be a ghost.

  ‘For the love of Nero, Tal!’

  She repeated my name and her voice echoed familiarly, a discord in this circus of blood and dust.

  But it was unmistakable all the same.

  ‘Aelia?’

  My answer came out a hoarse whisper, as though its very utterance might break the spell. And yet there she was reaching through the dust, fracturing time, and melting the pain that had impaled like tiny crystal shards, since August and I said goodbye on the banks of the glass river.

  It was the most improbable thing, that she should be alive, flying across the dirt, slowing her sprint and raising her eyebrows at me as though I were the apparition instead. And then she offered a grin, of all things, her head tipped to one side – a look so familiar it ached every muscle I possessed. And how didn’t matter any more.

  I pushed up slowly, defiantly, growing in stature before the crowd, with the strength of an old friend reaching across the floor, firing my limbs with solidarity and life. At last.

  ‘So what are you waiting for … feral cat?’

  They were his words, delivered by his sister, like a brilliant shower of stars, telling me it was still worth the fight, while we lived and breathed.

  I rose onto the balls of my feet, assessing the last leap. It was a considerable jump, but I’d jumped further with a hole in my stomach. Aelia turned and began pelting up towards the collapsed chariot and I flashed back to the night at the cathedral, when I urged Max to pick her up and run. I set my jaw. This time I was going to be right there beside them.

  In the next moment I was soaring, the breath of the crowd carrying me, until I landed and rolled, a blaze of hot lights on my face and dirt crunching beneath my limbs.

  I was dimly aware of August hard-turning his team, and a battalion of guards spread out around the perimeter of the metallic fence. But I had to get to Max, and as I sprinted across the dirt floor, I shot a look up at the balcony. Cassius’s outstretched arm reached far above me as he assessed the crowd’s mood, before he slowly twisted his fist upwards. I smiled as the crowd erupted in cheers. The show always came first.

  The sabre-tooths were between me and Aelia now, and the rear animals turned slowly, eyeing me with interest. Instinctively, I sprinted low and wide around the pack, their diamond-blue eyes
following me intently, sizing me up against effort.

  They looked even bigger on the ground, as big as Cassius’s monster hounds and yet better built for speed, with thickened rear legs and heavy clawed feet. But if their snow-leopard nature was prevalent, they wouldn’t attack until their leader gave them the signal, and right now it looked as though he was after bigger game.

  ‘A good hunter rarely hunts the healthy deer,’ I muttered, skirting around the rear animals and accelerating towards the upturned chariot where Aelia was already pressing her fingers into Max’s limp wrist.

  The crowd cheered deafeningly as I skidded in beside her crouching form, as alive as the day I met her. I stared at her for a millisecond: pink skin, determined chin, eyes the colour of a forest spring.

  Fully fixed, fully in control, fully Aelia. But there was no time for questions.

  ‘How is he?’ I whispered, throwing a look over my shoulder. The pack were spreading out, widening their game.

  ‘Unconscious, but alive. Help me lift this so we can pull him free,’ she responded.

  Without hesitation, I jammed my back against the nearest wing, and heaved with all my strength, clearing just enough space for her to drag Max free. The crowd went wild as the whole equipage crashed back down to the floor, shattering the wing and making the sabre-tooths snarl suspiciously. I held my breath as Aelia leaned over him, her expert fingers searching.

  ‘Lucky!’ she panted. ‘He must have been cushioned by the frame, I can’t locate any broken bones or internal damage.’

  She carefully removed his helmet, and his tousled hair and golden face caught me off guard. I dropped to my knees, and my heart flooded with hope as he groaned.

  ‘Rajid?’ Aelia whispered, glancing up.

  I thought of his curious, sly expression, of his betrayal and finally of the small dart tube resting against my chest.

  I gritted my teeth.

  He and Servilia had risked their lives to help me.

  I jumped to my feet. The sabre-tooths were closing ranks again. The leader’s broad head was close to the ground, its canines almost brushing the red dirt as it took a pace forward, the rest of the pack fanning out behind. Clearly, three humans in close proximity, one unconscious, represented better odds than anything else on offer.