Rise of the Wolf

by Jennifer A. Nielsen

  The soldiers rode out first, to the swell of noise from the crowd, nearly five times the numbers who had deafened me in the amphitheater. Radulf had told me that by some estimates, almost one person out of every four in the city of Rome could fit inside this circus. I didn't know if that was true, but looking at the crowd, I certainly believed it. The trumpets continued to sing, and once we rode out, the noise exploded. It filled my head and swarmed my thoughts.

  But one detail demanded my attention, which was finding the seat that had been reserved for Livia. Although Radulf would be in the spine, she was the general's granddaughter and would be given a seat of honor.

  Once my horse came closer to the emperor's box, it wasn't hard to find the area near where she should have been. Magic rose in me, more than I wanted, and though none was allowed for the race, I had no hesitation about using magic for her.

  And suddenly, I saw her there, taking her seat exactly where she should have been. She wasn't really watching me, but then she wasn't really watching anyone. Just staring forward with her back straight and tall, her hands in her lap, and completely indifferent to the noise around her. That was enough. The Praetors would keep their eyes on her. I could only hope that they would leave her alone while I raced. If they didn't, it would ruin everything.

  Or more accurately, ruin everything more than it already was. It hardly seemed possible for things to get any worse.

  I waved up at her, just to test her reaction, and she waved back. She looked more confident than anxious, and even if it was faked emotion, it still made me feel better to see it.

  "Is that your sister?" the racer to my right said. "She's a pretty little thing."

  "She's the granddaughter of a Roman general," I said. "Who would gladly gouge out your eyes for looking at her that way."

  The racer laughed nervously. And stopped looking.

  The man at my left caught my eye and then glanced at my hands, holding the reins. "All we're allowed to do is keep you from winning. But if you're not tied in, you might do even worse to yourself."

  "You won't stop me from winning." I looked over at him and smiled. "Maybe one of the other men here, but not you."

  He grinned. "Listen, boy, I'll get to you first."

  "I can smell you from here," I said. "Your fleas will consume you before you've had a chance to catch me on this track."

  And the man next to him laughed, starting an argument between them, which I much preferred to any attention on me.

  With six chariots between us, it was difficult to see Aurelia from here, though Callistus was perfectly visible and was getting plenty of attention from the crowd. At one point, I saw Aurelia's hair blowing in the morning breeze, but that only reminded me I had let my team of horses fall behind and needed to straighten our line.

  I looked into the spine too, but couldn't see Radulf. He should have been there already, but wherever he was, it wasn't out in front watching me.

  The man at my left called my name. "You can always forfeit, you know. There's still time."

  "Why would you suggest that?" I asked. "Are you frightened of me?"

  "No." But his tone hinted otherwise.

  I wasn't looking at him, but I said, "Perhaps you are the one who should forfeit. I'm going to win this race."

  "What about the girl? Did you forget about her?"

  I smiled over at him. "Aurelia? No, I never forget about her." Which were the truest words I had ever spoken.

  And with that, we had completed the procession. Normally, the soldiers should've ridden off at once, but this time, they remained in their places. And then from the spine, I heard a familiar voice. Radulf.

  "Citizens and friends," he called out. "Give me your attention!"

  The audience quieted so they could hear him. I certainly could, though my heart was pounding in anticipation of what trick he might try next. If he had been sincere before, in the feelings he had so awkwardly tried to express, he might've come to think of me as a true grandson. After all, he and I had gone through a great deal together, more than I had ever thought possible within such a short time. The battles he and I had fought against each other were easy to comprehend, but I didn't know how to deal with an enemy who wanted my affection. Or maybe we weren't enemies anymore. I genuinely didn't know how to think about my grandfather.

  But as it turned out, the announcement was not about me, or even for me.

  Once Radulf had the ears of the people, he said, "I have terrible news, something that is unwelcome and untimely on this great morning. As you all know, nearly three months ago, Emperor Tacitus was killed on his way to battle in Gaul."

  I gritted my teeth and looked down. Radulf should know about that assassination. He was the one who had ordered it, as he had ordered the deaths of other emperors before that. Then I realized what this announcement was likely to be, and I looked up at Radulf, dreading his next words.

  "The emperor's reign fell to Florian, who continued the fighting in Gaul and has been there ever since. Sadly, my friends, Emperor Florian will never return to Rome. He has been killed by his own soldiers. A search will begin at once for a new emperor."

  Silence fell over the entire circus, out of respect for a fallen emperor. Off in the distance, an eagle was released, Rome's tradition for sending the emperor's soul to the gods. And though everyone around me followed the eagle's path in the skies and whispered to Pluto to carry him safely into the underworld, I only stared up at Radulf, letting him see the blame in my eyes.

  Radulf had ordered Florian's death as well. I knew it just from looking at him. Only a few days ago, we'd learned that the emperor was sending his soldiers to bring Radulf to Gaul. Radulf had replied that the soldiers were loyal to him, far more than the emperor. Now I knew what he meant by that. When Radulf looked back at me, his first expression was one of pride. Yes, this was the Radulf I knew and understood. The one who would do anything, and destroy anyone, to get what he wanted.

  But Radulf's expression quickly changed once he found me in the group. There was a brief moment of confusion while he looked at my horses, and then at Aurelia in a chariot behind Callistus. And then he knew exactly what I had done. His face twisted in fear, or anger, or whatever emotions were running through him.

  "Stop this race!" Radulf yelled. "Out of respect to the emperor, we must not race today!"

  No, the reasons for his panic had nothing to do with respect to the emperor. This was about me now. And nobody would stop this race.

  Ignoring Radulf's words, as they had to do, the soldiers directed us to back up into the gates, which closed in front of us. A metal grille above the wooden doors let in light and would allow us to hear the trumpeter's warning that the doors would be opening, but I could no longer see the crowds and that helped me calm down. I backed my team of horses to the rear wall, which also put me farther away from everyone. It looked unwise, but I knew what I was doing.

  Crispus came forward, calming my horses just as other workers were quieting the horses for their charioteers.

  "You're going to start this race from behind?" he asked me.

  I didn't answer. My eyes were on Aurelia, whom I could easily see from here. She stared back at me with an expression I couldn't understand. There was worry, and sadness, and even a spark of anger. Maybe other emotions too. I only winked back and gave her a smile that made the creases of her brow deepen. I wasn't sorry for what I'd done and wouldn't pretend to be. This was the best chance either of us had.

  Decimas Brutus was speaking from the staging area above us. Though I couldn't hear his exact words, he had excited the crowd again. He didn't want them in mourning for an emperor who had been in power for only a few months, all of it at war in Gaul. He wanted them cheering for the race and distracted from the larger issues of treason that were everywhere in the circus. Rome was a mob. Everything Rome did seemed to be about distracting the mob.

  I did not see Brutus drop the white cloth to begin the race, but I heard the trumpets, and the noise of the lever t
urning to spring open the gates. My horses were already in motion when the door flew apart. I had given myself nearly five feet to build up speed first. The others did not.

  The chariot race for my life, Aurelia's life, and for the future of the empire, had begun.

  Perhaps it was a small thing to have started moving even before the gates opened, but it was already working to my advantage. My horses were second out of the gates, only by a fraction of a hair perhaps, but I could use that. Callistus was faster and was already in the lead, but I had expected that. If nothing else, I was grateful to Radulf for forcing me to spend so long working on these precious first few seconds.

  The first part of the race was to get to the break line, which was nearly even with where the spine began. We were required to stay in our lanes until then, thus avoiding a mass collision in the first few seconds of the race. Once there, I knew what to do.

  As I had practiced so many times, my most important job was to work toward the inside track. But there were ten teams around me who didn't care about winning. Their only job was to see that I didn't get to the finish line.

  The trouble started early, as the player to my right, the meanest-looking one, began edging me inward with his chariot while the man to my left matched my chariot's speed. I knew it was deliberate because when I slowed, so did he, and when I slowed yet again, so did he.

  Although I'd been furious a couple of days ago with the racers who had cheated, I realized what a useful lesson it had been. Because now, I recognized the look of conspiracy between the men on either side of me. I understood the expression of warning from the one on the right, to prepare himself. Something was about to happen.

  All three of us had been slowing, but without giving any warning of my own, I urged my horses to speed forward, so suddenly that the man to my left could not keep up, and the man on my right had already turned his team inward, intending to careen his chariot directly into mine. Instead of hitting me, as I raced past them, their chariots collided. Both men flew into the air, but their horses were left in a tangle, which probably saved the riders' lives as they cut free of their reins. A roar rippled through the crowd. The people wanted violence from any of their games, but with me on the tracks, they also wanted a show, and I regretted knowing I would have to provide one to survive.

  Slaves ran onto the tracks to clear the fallen chariots. Now there were eight teams against me, and I hadn't yet completed my first lap.

  Though I was glad to leave those two teams behind, they had also cost me time. Because of having slowed down, I was in very last place. I cut toward the center in a hard angle, sharper than I should have done, but I kept my footing and moved ahead. Most of the men here had never ridden a chariot before, and their inexperience was showing. The ones who had raced were keeping pace with Aurelia, though she was still ahead of them all. But they clearly wanted to win too. It would earn them a dual reward, from the Praetors for keeping me away from victory, and the sack of gold from the empire. The rest of these men, the ones meant to frighten and intimidate me, they were just bumps in my road. Literal bumps if they didn't stay in their chariots.

  Following that turn, my first lap was complete. The first bronze dolphin overhead was already pulled downward, signaling to the cheering crowd that the second lap had begun. Ahead of me, the second carved wooden egg had already been pulled, meaning the lead chariot was that much farther ahead in the race.

  I was nearer to the inside than before, though a charioteer now on my right and slightly behind me was whipping his horse to increase his speed. It was Kaeso, the chunky man who had drawn first for his gate. I felt a sting on the back of my arm and without even thinking, yanked my arm away from the sting, which pulled the reins even farther to the inside. My chariot bumped against the team of horses next to me, which caused us to rock up onto only one wheel. I threw my weight down to steady my chariot, and only then had a chance to look at what had caused the sting.

  The whip.

  Instantly it snapped again, this time catching me across the back with a cut that I knew had drawn blood. The crowd had seen it, but there were as many cheers as jeers, both directed at me. They were no doubt hoping I'd respond with magic, and in fact, I heard chanting about it coming from somewhere in the stands.

  I merely pushed forward, hoping to stay far enough ahead to avoid that charioteer's whip. The sting was still burning on my arm and back, but I couldn't use magic to heal myself. With the pain, it was harder to hold on to the magic protecting Livia. I could not risk losing her while I raced. Whether I won or lost, I had to protect her for as long as my magic held out.

  Cutting so tight to the center had given me a huge advantage. I had narrowed the lead between myself and the racers ahead of me, and three teams were behind me now. There were only three chariots between me and Aurelia, and another two had pushed ahead of her. From one look at her driving, I understood why. Aurelia kept looking back for me and was deliberately slowing Callistus in an effort to increase my chances of winning.

  No, that wasn't the plan. She had to keep going as fast as possible. The worst of everything would be if we both lost. But from here, I had no way to communicate that. Even if I yelled it to her, I knew she'd ignore me.

  I was approaching the next turn, the final one before the third lap would begin. A chariot to my right was pressing in on me, hoping to force me too close to the spine.

  The Romans had a word for the crashes that happen here: naufragia. The same word also meant "shipwreck." The dual use of the word was no coincidence.

  The charioteer pushed in until our chariots met, and he threw a punch at my arm holding the reins. It hurt like he'd clubbed me, and I nearly dropped the reins, which would have been disastrous. But I didn't drop them and, instead, realized that he had done worse to himself. For he had punched so hard that it cost him his balance, and as we rounded the spine, he crashed.

  Naufragia.

  Moments later, the bronze dolphin marked the third lap's beginning. I was as close to the inner track as anyone could be, enough that at some point I heard Radulf yelling at me. Or yelling for me, rather. He called my name with such hope and encouragement that I truly believed it was possible to win this, somehow.

  I used my position to gain speed on the others. With superior teams of horses, they were far ahead, but they were also farther from the spine, so at least for now, I was keeping up with them.

  Aurelia was the third chariot ahead of me now, and I was in sixth place. A total of nine competitors remained.

  I urged the horses to go even faster. They must've believed they were already giving everything they had, but I knew otherwise.

  When I had been a slave in the mines, there were many times when I had thought there was no way I could continue working. I had known exhaustion to the point of my very soul begging my body to lay in the dirt and give up. But I had reasons to keep going, and always, somehow, I found more strength.

  These horses would find more strength too. I needed them to run faster.

  By the beginning of the fourth lap, I had a stroke of luck. A chariot just in front of me was moving fast enough that I could not gain on him, but his position on the track also prevented me from edging around him. One of his horses kicked up enough dirt to reveal a curse tablet that had been buried on the track. This was supposed to be illegal, though it sometimes happened. Some Romans had faith in the gods to curse a charioteer. Others had even greater faith in the power of a lead tablet to trip a horse.

  The horse stumbled against the lead tablet and brought the rest of his team down. The charioteer flew over the front of his chariot and landed on his horses, but immediately cut himself free. I expected him to run for safety, but instead he leapt for my chariot and got a hand on the rim. "You cursed boy!" he shouted. Which was a fine irony. Odds were that the tablet had been meant to trip my horses.

  I veered my team in a sharp turn to avoid running over his, and the man fell without harming me. But his words stuck in my head. That I was cur
sed.

  And with that thought, I looked up to see the fifth dolphin fall for the chariot farthest ahead. Two and a half laps remained for me, and I was now in fifth place out of eight competitors. That wasn't nearly enough time for what I needed to do.

  When it came to their competitions, the Romans' definition of cheating was fairly lenient. As far as they were concerned, as long as the charioteer completed all seven laps, anything he did to destroy his competition was a fair race. So from the perspective of the audience in the stands, any violence on the circus track was great entertainment. If there were deaths in here, then the race was even better.

  Avoiding the fallen chariot had cost me in the race. The team of horses directly behind me had caught up again, carrying the man with the whip. He came at me with a vengeance, slashing his whip in every direction, hoping to hit me.

  When he finally did, my back arched with the pain, and I leaned backward, nearly losing my balance again.

  Aurelia must've seen it. Above the crowd's noise, I heard her yelling something about what would happen to that man if she had her bow, and despite the sting in my back, I smiled and encouraged my horses to go faster and stay toward the middle. I took the reins in my right hand alone and turned sideways.

  Though I wouldn't use magic to help me in the race, there was no doubt that magic had sharpened my reflexes. When the whip snapped again, I caught it in my hand. Where it hit bare skin, the whip cut my wrist and palm, but I swallowed the pain and yanked hard, pulling the man forward.

  "Let go," I yelled. "Or I'll pull you to the ground."

  "I'm stronger," he said. "I'll pull you off instead."

  That was true enough. One quick tug on my end confirmed that. So I gave in and released the whip.

  It happened just as the man tugged on his end, throwing his entire weight into the motion, intending to pull me down. Without my weight to balance him, he rolled backward off his own chariot, effectively pulling himself to the ground. His horses continued running, and the man was dragged by his reins. I looked back and saw his knife had fallen from his toga. He wouldn't be able to cut himself free. And I knew from personal experience how that felt. This man would be dragged to his death or run over first.