by T. C. Edge
"You took pity on him," Max says, as the four bodies lie choking at our feet. "Why?"
I stare down at them. "Because they're soldiers," I say. "This war isn't theirs. You know that as well as anyone."
Max nods slowly. "I should remove the bodies," he says. "No need to startle the slaves."
He begins lifting them from the ground and into the air, their limbs hanging from their bodies, blood still dripping generously from their necks. Spotting a nearby ruin, he draws them over towards it and presses them inside. I continue to watch in fascination at how skilled and controlled he is at matter manipulation.
"What would you do if you fought Ares?" I ask him, as he steps back towards me.
It's an odd question, perhaps, at a time like this, but one that comes to mind and begs to be asked.
He frowns, equally surprised by the query. "You mean, if we fought in the arena?"
I nod.
"All I can say is, I'm glad I never did," he says. "Or else, I don't think I'd be standing here now."
"But your telekinesis," I say, my voice a little breathy. "Couldn't you just hold him in place like you just did with those soldiers, then kill him in your own time."
He raises a rare smile. "You think I'd be able to hold Ares?" he says.
"I don't know," I say. "That's what I'm asking."
"No," he says. "That's the answer. I could slow him, perhaps, or maybe even stop him for a time, but not long. He's too quick, too strong, and too powerful. It would take several like me to make him stone."
"Me then?" I ask. "If I came at you right now, you'd just stop me and crush me like you were doing that Brute?"
"If I saw you coming, and was quick enough, perhaps," he nods. "But I probably wouldn't, Lady Kira. You're as silent and quick as anyone I've encountered. Depending on the circumstances, you'd likely have a knife in my neck before I could react and stop you."
"You're just saying this because I'm marrying Dom," I say. "You don't really believe that."
"I do. In the arena, it would be different, perhaps, but out here? In these conditions? Some fighters are more suited to stealth, Lady Kira. This is your arena."
"You do remember that I won the games, right?" I ask, with a smirk pulling up one corner of my mouth. "So, I do all right on the sand as well."
"Of course," he says. "But..." He stops, and turns silent.
"But what?" I ask. He doesn't answer. My eyebrows pinch, as I begin to nod knowingly. "You think I had it easy, don't you?" I say. "That I won the games by default?"
"I...I'd never suggest such a thing."
"Well, you'd be right if you did," I sigh, not too proud to admit it. "I won, technically, but really it was Finn who killed Jaeger in the final. Actually," I say, frowning, "he told me that he was able to hold Ares in place once, while Polus took all Vesper's programming out of his head. If Finn can, couldn't you?"
"Well," Max says, stroking his chin, "as I understand it, Finn only held Ares for a few moments. That was, of course, plenty for someone like Polus to do his work. Ares would also have been distracted. If his attention was on Finn alone, then it might not have been likely."
"Maybe. Finn is...well, he's really something, though. But I guess you are too." I look up to him. "You don't see many like you two with that sort of telekinetic control."
Maximus bows reverently. "Thank you, Lady Kira, for the compliment. But you sell yourself short. You were a match for Jaeger that day on the sand, and might have won without intervention. There's a deep well in you, a power you can tap into that few others can. In desperate times, you find a way to win, and to survive. That is another rare gift that you, and few others, possess."
I dip my eyes and smile almost coyly. I wouldn't call it an insecurity of mine, but to be called Champion of Neorome hasn't always felt quite right to me, given the circumstances that made me victor. To hear such words from a man like Max is quite, well...quite heartening.
I draw a breath and turn my eyes towards the ruins harbouring the deserters, feeling strangely bashful.
And with my smile holding, I step forward.
11
Kira
I hold my hand to the old brickwork, now tangled in vines and verdant tendrils. Shutting my eyes, I activate the sight. The world comes into view in its strange, three dimensional form, the light whispers of the two men on watch, and the breathing of the sleeping deserters giving me enough to forge an image of them and their surroundings.
They lie clustered into an old hall, within the strong foundations of a building that refuses to fully wilt and crumble. The walls are partially broken, the ceiling only half there, yet it's sufficiently intact to provide enough cover to conceal them from the cold blanket of night.
The lookouts sit at the front, watching out towards the wilderness beyond from behind the relative safety of a crumbled wall. The old ruins around them provide a limited line of sight, their eyes guided down a narrow channel from which any threat, should it approach, would come.
I sense weapons among them. Some carry blades, basic shivs constructed from work tools. A few others appear to have sourced actual firearms, taken before they fled the camp. They're a well enough armed group to offer resistance to unenhanced bandits, or tribespeople like the Skullers should they encounter them. An attack from fully trained and enhanced soldiers, however, wouldn't go so well.
I turn to Max with a whisper, flashing my eyes around the corner of the broken building. "They're just around there," I say quietly. "Take the two men on watch without causing a panic or waking the others if you can. I'm hoping Jude will be one of the two."
Max guides his eyes towards the sky. It remains mostly dark, though the first flutters or morning don't appear to be too far off. He nods and steps forwards, as I hold my position where I am, shutting my eyes once again to watch him as he works.
His footsteps, light and almost entirely silent, send just enough of a tremor through the earth to signify his position to my collected senses. Within moments only, he hurries down the side of the wall, keeping low and out of sight, and then springing into view of the two watchers on guard. I sense the sudden pulsing of their hearts, thrashing wildly, both of them taking a full and abrupt intake of air into their lungs. They don't, however, have a chance to blow it out and make a noise.
Max, proficient as he is, manages to take both of them under his command, holding their lips shut with his profound gifts, lifting them immediately into the air and over the broken wall, and hoisting them quickly towards him. He turns, and within a flash, comes rushing back around to me, two shellshocked and panicked young men gripped in his telekinetic hold. They hover in the air by his side, as he places them back to the ground. Their lips, shut tight, try to rip open and call out a warning, but manage only a barely audible mumble.
"We're not here to hurt you," I say to them softly. "Look at our clothes. We are from New Haven. We are not your enemy, so be calm. Can you do that for me?"
The two men glance across at one another, their panic easing up just a little. Turning back, one of them nods. He has dark, swept back hair, brown eyes, and a youthful, though determined disposition. A fine looking young man, too, though with a fresh scar upon his cheek. I immediately know, from Amber's description, that this is Jude.
"Your name is Jude," I say to him directly. "You are the one leading these deserters."
His eyes shift, pinching into a frown.
"You've done well to get them this far already," I say, nodding to him in appreciation. "That's impressive for someone so young. But there's no need for you to go any further. We have been instructed to come and escort you to New Haven. You will all be safe there."
Jude's eyes narrow a little. His companion holds that look of trepidation in his eyes, unsure of what might happen next, or what our true intentions are.
"This man to my side is Commander Maximus," I continue, looking to the Neoroman, who stands tall and proud beside me. "He is a senior commander within the Imperial Guard and currently chief protector of E
mperor Domitian. His honour is unimpeachable. He will let you go so long as you don't make a sound. We are here to help you, not hurt you. Trust that and don't wake your allies. It will only cause a panic and may lead to unnecessary bloodshed."
I look to Jude, who nods calmly. Then I turn to Max, who without moving a muscle, relaxes his telekinetic grip of the two men, and allows their bodies, and lips, to return to their own command.
Jude's companion breathes out in a few ragged breaths, shuddering before us. The man we are here to retrieve, however, merely looks at myself and Max with a curious, distrusting expression. He doesn't strike me as someone I'm going to win over easily.
"Who sent you?" he asks, his voice quiet. He looks to his friend and nods to him supportively as he continues to breath heavily. "Calm, Ned," he says. "We'll be fine, don't worry."
The ragged young man - though he still looks several years old than Jude himself - shapes up and takes better control of his nerves. Both of them have the look of men who have been through a fair bit, not just over the previous day and night, but for some time. It's in the slight pallor of their skin. In the hollow framing of their eyes. In the filth that covers them, and the cuts and bruises - none more prominent than the fresh scar on Jude's cheek - that taint their skin and flesh.
"I have been sent by a friend of yours," I say to Jude, carefully selecting my words. "Amber asked me personally to come and bring your back..."
"Amber?" he asks, that frown deepening. "She's...working with you?"
"She was captured during the battle yesterday morning," I say. "You know her mind better than anyone. She wants to help you and your people, and we're going to work together on that task. But, you have to come with us. You will not be safe out here in the wilds."
"So she told me," Jude says. He shakes his head. "But...we're not coming with you."
I stare right at him with my glowing green eyes. "Perhaps I'm not being completely clear," I say carefully. "My name is Kira Blackstone, and I have seen much of the world, not least the lands around New Haven. I know how treacherous they can be." I scan him and his friend slowly, purposefully. "You may be brave, and have the best of intentions, but you're only going to lead your people to their doom. Come with us, and you'll be safe. You won't be slaves anymore, but free men and women." I look to Jude alone. "Do you not want to see Amber again?"
His eyes fall away as he considers the proposal. I sense his friend, Ned, shaking his head subtly.
They don't trust us, I think, recognising the signs. It's often the case with such people. The yoke of slavery and service can destroy a man's faith in others for good.
"I'll have to consult with my people," Jude says eventually. He looks to the skies, the pinkish hues of dawn just beginning to break on the horizon. "It's time to wake them anyway. We need to get further from the Olympian base to avoid being tracked..."
"You don't have to worry about that," I say, glancing to Max. "We have taken care of it for you."
"Taken care of it?" Jude says, frown deepening.
My eyes work off to another part of the ruins nearby. "You were being tracked by four Olympian soldiers," I say matter-of-factly. "We made sure they didn't disrupt you. You see, we saved your life, Jude. Yours and all your fellow deserters. Consider that when you make your decision."
He looks at me for a moment, perhaps trying to display some thanks, before turning away once more, and moving off with Ned towards the rest of the fugitives. I stand my ground for a second, watching them go, considering whether to follow.
"We should give them some privacy," Max suggests. "They won't speak plainly with us nearby."
He begins stepping off towards another section of the old ruins, drawing me far enough away so that their discussion won't be quite so easy for my augmented hearing to perceive. Still, with enough focus, I'll have little trouble with that.
I decide, however, to avoid my tendency to eavesdrop, and instead merely wait with Max as the sun begins its climb, the warm morning light starting to spread across from the east. The gloomy ruins and woods that held such a foreboding feel brighten, casting off their ominous shroud. Before long, the world has changed completely, becoming nothing but a pleasant scattering of relics of a time gone by, interspersed among the lush and verdurous growth that proliferates across much of these lands.
The discussion goes on for some time, a matter of some frustration for me. It takes well over half an hour before Jude returns, wandering over towards us alone. I see, in the background, his fellow deserters packing up, hauling bags onto backs and checking what weapons and ammunition they have. They look towards us with the same, distrusting eyes as their adopted leader. And here he comes, with eyes that haven't changed.
"We've made our decision," Jude says, arriving before us, "and we're going to take our chances on our own. I'm sorry you had to trail us all the way out here, and I thank you for helping with those soldiers, but the simple fact is, we would rather take our destiny into our own hands." He takes a breath, as though trying to hold his nerve. "Tell Amber that I have a responsibility now. I can't abandon these people, no matter how much I...care about her."
His voice drifts off, dragging his eyes down and away to one side. I sense his conviction beginning to wane, before he draws another breath and straightens up again, nodding to solidify his path and purpose.
He looks me in the eye. Mine haven't left him since he walked towards us.
"Is that...OK?" he asks, losing a fraction of his bold self assurance.
His eyes reframe as if expecting me to say no. As if I'll just cast aside the choice he and his people have made, and force them to come with us whether they like it or not.
I don't. Instead, I merely nod, slowly, but with a display of acceptance of his wishes.
"That is your choice," I say to him. I wave my hand to the distance. "Go ahead."
His eyes switch curiously as I speak, though he doesn't challenge my ruling. Instead, he merely nods and, telling us, "thank you," with a grateful whisper, turns quickly, and hurries back off to rejoin his troop.
I watch him go, his allies swiftly gathering their belongings and preparing to set back off on their way. By my side, Max's voice breaks the quiet.
"We're just going to let them go?" he asks. "This was a Presidential order, wasn't it? Do you mean to just say we couldn't find them?"
I begin shaking my head. "I'll let them go," I say, watching on. "But not him. Our mission was to fetch Jude, and I never like to fail. Did you see his eyes, Max? He's exhausted, and has been up all night. They will rest again when the light fades, and then we'll make our move."
"You mean to take him alone?" Max says, nodding to my side. "Leave the others to fend for themselves. The boy won't like that."
"I don't care what he likes," I say, growing impatient. "Unless they get lucky, none of these people will survive long. We can't force them to agree with us, but we can damn well make sure we get Jude back. Either he dies along with them, or we grab him when night falls and complete our mission. I don't think we have much of a choice."
"That means trailing them for another day," Max tells me. "We won't be back at New Haven before tomorrow morning at the earliest."
"It's not going anywhere," I say. "Now lets get a couple hours rest of our own, and pick up the trail when we wake. The boy is flagging, and they'll make camp early. After all, they don't have to worry about being chased by the Olympians now, do they? They'll take it slower today."
As Jude and his band head off, we settle in to take our own rest, restoring our energy reserves for the push to come.
And that night, many miles away, we put our plan into action under the cover of darkness.
12
Brie
"Oh, I do apologise for Herald Kovas. He is a brutish man with a fiercely unforgiving disposition. He really didn't need to force you to watch all that grisly business last night..."
I sit in my cage, knees to my chest, chin dipped and back slumped. Above me, behind the pro
tective bars, the flamboyant figure of the Overseer stands, his robes bright and colourful, even here in this dank and gloomy space.
Behind him, the door lies mostly open. From what I can now see, the entire camp has been completely rearranged into its 'travelling' configuration, all set to leave when the order comes. I had thought, perhaps, that we'd be gone last night, but such a thing never transpired. Now, having sat here for most of the day, and with the light once more fading outside, it appears that the convoy is finally going to get moving.
"He didn't need to do it at all," I grumble, my voice lacking any real energy. The last day has seen me fall into a bit of a slump, Kovas's threats and warnings beginning to bear me down. He has placed the lives of hundreds of slaves and workers on my shoulders. Should I try to escape, he will kill them all. Unless I cooperate, I am starting to realise, I'll be forced to watch other innocent people die.
I turn my eyes up to the Overseer, who presents a kinder picture than Kovas, though such a thing isn't difficult. The offspring of a crocodile and a shark would be more pleasing to my eyes. Of all the dreadful people I've met over the last year or so, Herald Kovas might just be the one I detest the most.
"No, perhaps he did act a little rashly," the Overseer agrees. "It's hard to blame slaves for wanting to escape, after all."
"He didn't burn alive the ones who escaped, Overseer," I groan. "It was those they left behind who suffered."
"Yes, of course," the Overseer nods. "A terrible business, really. But he did act within accordance of our laws, I suppose."
"Then they need changing," I say. "It's...sick."
"I know. I know it is."
"Don't pretend to care," I say, shaking my head with a snarl. "Don't come in here and try to be my friend. You're as bad as he is. You just present yourself better. The old man with the bright robes. A twinkle in his eye. An easy smile on his lips. You can't fool me."
"I am not trying to fool you, child. I wouldn't want to disrespect you like that. And perhaps you're thinking that I might have tried to change Herald Kovas's mind? Get him to spare the slaves for such faint crimes as they were."
