by T. C. Edge
Rufus, therefore, was quick to push him down the list.
“Leewood is highly gifted, but unfortunately a potential liability,” he said. “We could put him at three but it would be a risk. Suffer a lapse and it could be game over. For me, it affects his positioning. We need our best at the top.”
Dom was holding back a smile. He had hoped for this, and had earmarked Kira in for third seed. He was happy to find Rufus on a similar wavelength.
The instructor went on.
“I believe Kira is a good shout for three,” he said, “though Malvo runs her close. The girl has lived and breathed war since she was a child. Her speed and accuracy and dexterity are tremendous. And, while she hasn’t been able to fully employ them here, her ability to combine her senses allows her to identify incoming threats quicker than anyone else. That is a wonderful defensive quality that can be quickly turned to offence. Her main problem is her size and strength. Against some of the larger men of equal speed, she could struggle. And she’s never faced those who can manipulate matter, such as Finn…”
“Well,” cut in Dom, “technically she has. I used two such soldiers to take her from Haven in the first place, along with two other warriors. I had one who could work the wind, and another who specialised in regular telekinesis, tossing bricks and debris and the like at her.”
“I see. And clearly she didn’t deal with it very well?” asked Rufus.
“She was surprised by it, mostly, and taken off guard. There was another girl with her who the men had to knock out, and then a guy came to help as well, though he was subdued quick enough once Kira had been knocked out. Both were powerful hybrids, the boy in particular.”
Rufus frowned.
“Right, so how come you didn’t take them too?”
“Ah, they were telepaths,” said Dom. “I could sense it. You know the policy on telepaths in the games.”
Rufus did. They weren’t allowed, given their ability to control their opponents’ minds. In the earlier days of the games, they were included, but would often just manipulate their rivals into killing themselves, or in multi-fighter bouts, would set them against their allies. One was particularly powerful, and was forced to fight a dozen other warriors. He was so quick and formidable with his mental acuity that he soon influenced them all to destroy each other, while he just stood to one side and enjoyed the carnage.
Overall, telepaths often made the bouts mundane, and were, Dom knew, also considered by his mother to be threats to the city at large. After all, they were much harder to control in the training schools and, without special attention, could take over the minds of guards and escape or, worse, even lead an uprising.
It was a threat that was unacceptable, and thus they were outlawed.
“Anyway, it was sunset when I took Kira,” continued Dom. “She’d already been fighting all day in the city, and so her energy was mostly depleted. That’s why I picked that time to strike. She’d have been harder to take otherwise.”
“Like Shadow,” said Rufus.
“Yes, exactly,” grumbled Dom.
One of the many reasons he had put such stock on Shadow was the fight he put up when they seized him. He’d been found beyond the city of Haven in the woods on patrol, and had killed a couple of Dom’s guards during the struggle. Dom, however, was adamant that he be snatched. He couldn’t rightly let a man with a power signature like that slip through his net.
In fact, Haven was a real treasure trove for them. Given the fact that the Stalkers were an elite military force, there were plenty to choose from. The trick was finding one alone, and of superior power to most of the others. He’d got a goodie with Shadow, or so he thought. Losing two men was a small price to pay for acquiring such an asset.
“OK, well that’s something to consider for Kira. She has some weaknesses, but excellent strengths. I agree that third seed is right for her.”
Dom smiled at Rufus’ final assessment. Third seed was a good place to start for the girl, and would give her a chance to get used to the arena, the noise of the crowd, the general set up, and so on before the fights got too difficult. In Dom’s experience, his first four or five seeds were more or less guaranteed to progress through the initial stages, whether in team-ups or individual fights. He felt oddly happy knowing Kira would be eased in.
The discussion went on from there, Dom imbibing a little more freely. Malvo slotted in behind Kira at four, and Leewood was thrown in as a wild-card at five. Gwyn, who’d straightened her emotions out but was still proving to be out of her depth, settled into the back of the pack with Gecko and the rest. Of them, Finn garnered the most discussion.
“He’s losing it,” said Rufus. “Today, he sulked around like he’d already been defeated. He’s fragile, prone to ups and down. I believe it has something to do with Kira.”
“Right, he’s taken a shine to her I think.”
“Yes,” nodded Rufus fervently. “Before today, they’d grown closer than any other pairing you put together on the boat. The rest seemed to quickly identify that building bonds wasn’t sensible here. But not those two.”
“Kira has an altruistic vein running through her,” admitted Dom. “Most of these people are mercenaries, assassins, guns for hire. They don’t really believe in anything, but Kira and Finn do. Both fought for people where they came from.”
“Right, and Kira has taken him under her wing,” said Rufus. “Or she had, at least. It seems it’s becoming a bit too real for her now, after the incident with Shadow. I know how it goes, I know full well. You make a friend, and then you either watch them die, or even face them on the sand. Kira’s a warrior. She’s come to that conclusion. And Finn, well, he’s got potential, but he’s too wayward with his emotions and too raw with the control of his powers. I don’t think we have a choice but to place him quite low, Master Domitian.”
“Ah, Rufus, call me Dom when we’re alone. We’re friends here. The master-servant relationship has gone home for the night.”
He smiled at his instructor, and saw Rufus’ lips peel back to reveal his wonderful set of pure white teeth, shining under the moonlight and magnificent against his dark skin.
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Rufus. You have marvellous teeth,” grinned Dom. “There must have been fine dental practitioners down in the southern lands.”
Rufus offered a wry smile.
“No, just lots of mud huts, big mutated cats, and rugged mountains. It’s just good genetics, Master Domit...” Dom raised his eyebrows. “…Dom,” finished Rufus.
“Better. Old habits die hard, don’t they, old friend.”
“That they do, Dom. That they do…”
The conversation continued, and Finn found his placing towards the lower seeds, although a few up from the bottom, above Gwyn and Gecko and a couple more.
It was a shame, Dom thought, but not a surprise. If Finn had training, and was a bit older, he might well stand a chance. His powers were raw, but potentially spectacular. And, regrettably, it looked as though he’d never get a chance to develop them.
Dom was, having drunk a little too much wine, assaulted at that moment by a barrage of guilt. It came in bursts at times like this. If ever he stopped and thought about what he’d done, his morals called out to him in utter disgust. This boy, this poor boy, had been taken from his village, torn from his life. And now he was set to die.
At moments of moral introspection, fuelled by wine and mild melancholy, Dom would feel like he was the worst person in the world. But then the next day would dawn, and he’d suppress those feelings once more. He’d move on, watch his people die, and perpetuate the terrible cycle.
And, while he liked to blame his mother for such things, really he had no one else to blame but himself.
Sometimes, he truly, desperately hated his place in the world.
But more than that, he hated himself.
24
The day was split in two. The first portion was more training. The second was rest and prepara
tion for the arrival of the empress.
Having worked hard up until mid afternoon, the trainees were sent down into the dungeons to wash and rest. Rufus went with them, bringing them up to speed on just what would be expected of them.
“Empress Vesper will arrive just before sunset,” he told them all as they dotted the cells, sprawled wearily against walls and in cool corners. “You will each have a chance to impress her. Mostly, it’s ceremonial, so just show her your skills and she may take a shine to you. The empress likes to see her main contenders in action before the games begin.”
“Her contenders?” boomed Oom’s voice. “I thought we were Master Domitian’s contenders?”
“Well, technically you’re hers,” said Rufus. “These games were devised by Empress Vesper, and all gladiators fall under her banner. She has total power in the games, which she delegates to her lanistas to make things more entertaining for her. She will interfere, however, if she sees fit to do so.”
Kira was only half listening as she sat against the stone wall, waiting her turn to wash. Their armour and robes had been taken to be cleaned, and would be delivered before the empress arrived. And new tunics had been given out, ready to be worn after their showers.
Across from her, Finn sat, still consumed by a cloud. She wondered what was going through his mind as she glanced back and forward between him and Rufus, now going through the required etiquette of each gladiator as they stepped into the yard.
“Move to the middle,” he was saying, “and kneel to your right knee. Place your hands on your left knee and bow your head. You will then be called to perform. The empress may choose to speak with you or not. She may dismiss you quickly or not. If she does ask you a question, refer to her as Empress Vesper and make sure to give her her proper title. She does not take kindly to disrespect…”
He continued on, and Kira’s eyes lifted back to Finn. She raised a smile and tried to draw his eye. He turned away, a grit imbuing his expression. It looked to Kira as though he was concentrating on the task ahead and the arrival of the empress. That was a good thing, she thought. He needed a singular focus, as did she.
She snapped out of it and tuned back in to Rufus’ voice.
“OK, now you’ll be called out according to your seedings,” he said. “It will be in ascending order, with last seed going first and first seed last…”
“So who’s top seed?” asked Malvo, looking around the room.
Kira thought it was a stupid question. She looked at Shadow, coolly stationed against his usual wall. Him, she thought, scowling.
“You’ll find out as you’re called up,” said Rufus. “Now get some food in you and get yourselves clean. Your clothes will be brought down to you soon.”
That was all from Rufus, the instructor spinning on his heels and moving back through the gate and up the stone steps. The trainees entered into a short round of speculation as to who might be seeded where, though it didn’t last long.
Few were on speaking terms, and few believed with any assurance that Shadow wouldn’t be top seed, with the likes of Oom, Malvo, and possibly Lee not too far behind. Kira heard her own name mentioned too in some dark corner, though didn’t consider that her place would be too high given the beating she suffered at Shadow’s hands.
Somewhere in the middle, she thought. And looking at Finn, she considered that his fate would be a whole lot worse, mingled in with the likes of Gecko, Gwyn, and the remainder of the gladiators.
She stood and moved towards the shower when her turn came, passing near to Finn as she went.
“Good luck out there,” she said with a supportive smile.
He nodded to her.
“You too.”
Then he turned away.
She opened her mouth to say something else, but nothing came. It was probably for the best.
Then, delaying just a second, she hurried off to get washed, new tunic in hand, and returned in time to find her armour and robes being brought down, cleaned of dirt, sand, and sweat, and all ready to be worn.
She ate, drank plenty of water, dressed, and escaped to her alcove. And sitting there in silence, she shut her eyes, placed her hands to the stone, and activated the sight.
The compound and training yard around her began to appear clearly in her mind, and just outside the main gate, there was a flurry of activity. She could sense the people gathering, the murmur of anticipation and noise, the clip-clopping of horses’ hooves on cobbled stone, the rolling of wagon wheels.
And all over the yard, the soldiers were getting into position, and the residence just next door was active with the movement of servants and slaves.
Kira sensed it all, and knew it could mean only one thing.
The empress was coming.
Dom was dressed in fine garments of white and red, a belt of luxurious leather, his hair glossy and shining bright under the fading sun. He waited in the yard alone, his guards in position, his gladiators set. All was prepared and ready, and yet he was nervous.
He was always nervous when his mother came calling.
With the deterioration of her mental state, he never quite knew what she might do. One day, she’d be bright of face, smiling wide and quite jovial. The next, she’d descend into a stupor, filled with anger and consumed by power. It was those days that the entire city feared. Those days where people died.
The gate to the ludus was open, and beyond, Dom could see the sprawling square, walled off from the burgeoning crowd outside. Their cheers and chants gave the first signal of his mother’s arrival, and a few moments later, the large force of guards within the main compound opened up the front gate, and Vesper’s magnificent carriage rolled inside.
Dom took a breath and stepped towards the gate to the yard. The carriage wheeled to the left, flanked by a host of mounted Imperial Guards, drenched in their magnificent armour and blood-red capes, broad swords attached to their belts, and long, extendable spears to their backs.
The carriage drew to a gentle stop outside the ludus, and the guards immediately dismounted from their steeds as slaves came rushing out to take them off to be watered and tended to.
Then, from the curtains of the carriage, a large figure emerged, similarly adorned as the other Imperial Guards but in even more magnificent style. He was a man of great height and muscular width, physically imposing with broad shoulders and a closely shaven head, his stone-crafted jaw perpetually set and a scar running vertically across his left eye and down his cheek.
Dom remembered when he’d received the mark, given to him during the greatest gladiator match to grace the arena since its revival. He was just a boy at the time, watching in awe at the power the men displayed. But no more than the man stepping out of the carriage now, the head of the Empress’ Guard, and loyal combat advisor to Dom’s mother.
His name was Ares, the finest champion the Imperial Games had ever seen, and the single most formidable warrior in the known world. Dom never failed to feel somewhat cowed by his presence, the aura that surrounded him. His power signature was greater than any he’d ever felt, a shroud of bristling energy constantly surrounding his body. And the feats he’d achieved still made Dom giddy, taking him back to his childhood when he looked upon Ares as his hero.
He came now, his dark eyes narrow as he stepped to the stone floor. Turning, he held out a mighty arm and, from the dark confines of the carriage, Dom’s mother came. She stepped out in her fine regalia, her long, dark hair fashioned into some wonderful style, the growing plumpness of her frame well hidden by the robes that draped and gathered across her.
Dom stepped forward beyond the gate to his residence, just as his mother turned to approach, flanked by the towering figure of Ares.
“Mother, you’re looking very well indeed,” said Dom.
He inspected her expression as he went, hoping for some light in her countenance. He could really do with her being in good form today.
She smiled, and Dom relaxed just a little.
“My darling Domiti
an,” she said, reaching out her palms and drawing his face down to hers. Her lips graced his cheeks, one after another, and she released him. “How are your gladiators coming along?”
The question was delivered in a tone to put Dom at some ease. She seemed in decent spirits.
“Very good, mother. I hope they impress you.”
“I hope so too,” she smiled. “Lucius has a fine gathering this year. It would be a terrible shame if yours didn’t match up.”
“I quite agree,” said Dom. “I’m confident that won’t be the case. Shall we?”
Vesper nodded, and taking Dom’s arm, they two began wandering past the gate and across the yard to Dom’s residence. Within the house, the servants were all at their stations, ready to open doors, deliver water and wine and food, perform any and all tasks the empress might require. Those who had been in Dom’s service for some time were well aware of the process. The newer additions had been quickly brought up to speed.
Crossing the yard, Vesper looked around at the guards by the walls and up in the gallery. Ares did the same, assessing security, though the contingent of the Empress’ Guards under his command came too.
They moved into the house, Vesper and Dom entering into a short round of pleasantries as mother and son. It was a fairly warm exchange, and likely due to the imminent arrival of the games. Like with most people in the city, Vesper’s favourite few weeks of the year were fast approaching. It was a time of joy and celebration, and through death, Vesper seemed to thrive.
The guards set their watches at the doors and around the house, and the empress and prince set straight out onto the balcony. Ares came with them, and Dom quickly called for food and wine to be brought out.