by T. C. Edge
"And you trust Claudius?" asked Dom suddenly.
Rufus frowned.
"Um, of course. Don't you?"
"He was assigned by my mother originally, Rufus. I mean, of course I trust him, almost as much as I do you...but there's always that niggling doubt."
"Well, on this front you're going to have to spread your field of trust a bit. It'll take the likes of Claudius to arrange the funds to buy weapons, and others to transfer and smuggle them to Southside. I know arms dealers who can help, and there are mercenary groups operating outside of the city too who we can hire. We'll keep your name out of it as much as possible. I just need the go-ahead to get the train moving."
Dom began shaking his head to himself. Things were moving quickly and beyond his control. All of this was getting out of hand, and fast. But what else could he do? If he was to make a stand, then why not do so alongside the forgotten people of Southside? Cause havoc for that spiteful witch who raised him. Draw her Imperial Guards south of the Tiber, and then...stage this heroic coup.
Dom couldn't help thinking about it with a note of sarcasm. The word heroic didn't seem to fit here. He wasn't a hero, that was certain. In fact, his mind still remained torn on all of this. A part of him still wished to just sneak away in the dead of night, gather up his faithful servants and depart the city, freeing the gladiators in the process. He'd abandon Neorome to its grisly fate, and hurry away to live in hiding in some dark corner of the world.
It was, in its own way, a tempting option. But not a viable one anymore. Each time that weakness rose, he forced it down and chased it away. He needed to stand tall for the people's sake, and for his own. If he didn't, he'd never be able to live with himself.
So he nodded to Rufus, and within that office, with the storm beginning to rage outside, they began to set in motion their covert operation. Southside would not be quelled or calmed by them. It would be armed and bolstered, supported from the shadows.
And the darkness that followed would show Dom the light.
74
The storm raged that whole day, growing louder and more ferocious the longer it went on. It forced the streets of Neorome to empty, the people flocking to the cover of their homes and favourite taverns. All official celebrations were halted until the storm passed, and in that lull, the pieces began to move in the shadows.
The ludus was quiet. The training yard saw no action, the gladiators stuck down in the cells and awaiting news of their next bouts. They sat in their corners and down their short passages, little to do but wait and think and stew in the depths of their thoughts. Those thoughts were dark among them, but no more so than for Gwyn and Finn, who'd returned to the cells the previous evening with Kira nowhere to be found.
Both were aware of some commotion above, but had little idea as to what had happened until they gathered back in the dungeon. When they did, and found Kira absent, they quickly realised that she was involved. The fear struck them deep, and the worst thing was the not knowing. They chatted through the night, perhaps too loud at certain points and without the restraint Kira usually forced upon them, wondering what had happened to her and whether they'd ever see her again.
They even wondered at one point whether she'd left without them. If she was in the house with Merk, perhaps she'd just taken her opportunity, and cut them loose? Finn proposed the option, but Gwyn wouldn't hear it. She shook her head violently throughout Finn's line of reasoning, until the blond boy was forced to give up.
When morning came, so came some relief. Humming away as he entered the cell, Merk wandered through with his tray of breakfast in hand, his cloak dripping wet from the rain that was already spitting from the heavens. He looked upon Gwyn and Finn in a manner that gave them hope, drawing them forward with his eyes and handing Gwyn a particular bowl that he filled with porridge.
"There you are, sweetheart. Eat up, nice and hearty," he said. "Storm's a'brewin'. Looks like the arena's going to be shut down for today."
Gwyn snatched up the bowl and escaped into the shadows, Finn following quickly behind. She took up the note stuck to its underside, and the two smiled bright at the contents. Kira was alive and well, and staying in the villa. Something bad had happened, and she was out of the games and set to be executed. But they had a plan to escape, and the two gladiators still in the cells needed to sit tight and wait.
The two looked at each other and set back into their whispers, discussing what might have gone wrong. And in their discussion, their tongues flapped loud.
"Did they get the note?" asked Kira as Merk crept into her room.
The old man shut the door and nodded.
"They did," he said.
"And no one noticed? What about the guards? Are there any on duty in the villa?"
"No one noticed," said Merk. "And no guards in the villa, only at the entrance and watching the cells. The path might be clear enough for you to get down to the stock room without being seen. That's assuming I can fetch Gwyn and Finn without being stopped."
"So...that's where the secret passage is? In a stock room?"
"It's towards the rear on the ground floor, near the kitchens. There are often servants there, but not many at night as I see it. That's when we'll need to make our move."
"Tonight then," said Kira. "This storm is perfect cover. No word on when I'm set to be executed?"
Merk shook his head.
"Nothing yet. The storm looks like it'll last into tomorrow according to the forecasts. It may be after then."
"So Wednesday?"
"Yes. At the earliest."
"And I'll stay here until then? Won't they wish to take me into custody somewhere?"
"I don't know, Kira," said Merk. He was strained. The pressure was getting to him. "I've never experienced this before. I'm just an old man..."
"A mighty old man," said Kira, drawing his eye with a beautiful white smile. "I don't care what they're calling you in Southside now. You'll always be Merk the Mighty to me."
"I don't deserve it," huffed Merk. "But...thanks. I'm trying to stay strong here. It's hard."
"I know," said Kira swiftly. "But it's only for a little longer. We'll be gone from here soon, all of us. Who knows, maybe you could get us all back to Haven? You'd be safe there with my people."
"Your people. You mean your rebels?"
"Yeah," nodded Kira, her voice buoyant. "They'd take you in for sure, given all you've done."
"If they're still alive," said Merk, perhaps inadvisedly.
"They are," growled Kira immediately. "We had our enemy on the ropes. We were winning. And now...maybe we've already won. Yes," she nodded to herself, "I'm sure of it..."
Her mind slipped away to thoughts of returning home. Seeing what had become of the city she'd fought to free for so long. It was a tantalising prospect, and now growing nearer. What was only so recently little more than a dream was now forging itself into a possible reality. She could get home. She could return to where she belonged.
She just needed to escape this damn place first...
They set the plan to make their attempt that very night. As always, the discussion was swift, both keen to not stay too long in each others' company, and Merk soon returned to his room, leaving Kira alone. She had been told not to leave it, though not directly from Dom. In fact, she hadn't seen him since the previous evening just after the troubles with Lucius.
And, probably, that was because he'd accepted she was going to die, and knew no further interaction between the two would be advisable. It was, certainly, the way she would act in such circumstances.
It didn't matter, though. With the afternoon now creeping forward, she waited nervously as the storm grew and grew. She was brought food and water by Silia, who had no further news about her fate. She entered awkwardly and exited just the same, never staying long.
Kira didn't care.
It was, now, down to Merk. She had the plan set in her mind, her simple role defined. With her powers now returning, she'd use the sight to ensure the
coast was clear, and wait for Merk to draw Gwyn and Finn from the cells, before hurrying down to join them. At dinnertime, he'd take them their food and pass along a note updating them so they'd know to be ready. Tonight was the night, it would say. All they needed to do was wait for Merk to come and summon them, hoping the guards agreed to let them pass. That was the largest hurdle of all.
And really, it was down to Merk to make it work.
Merk had rarely been as nervous or unsure of himself as he was right now.
Within the main hall on the ground floor of the villa, he paced nervously from side to side, trying to draw up the courage to move down to the cells. His task was simple but not easy. It relied both on his ability to lie, and the soldiers' willingness to be convinced. And while he had control over the former, the latter was entirely out of his hands.
His old feet were taking him in circles, and his heart was racing too fast for him to make his move. He needed to be calm in order to convince the guards, especially those with augmented senses capable of sniffing out a rat. If he was flustered, they'd know. If he didn't appear confident, they'd be onto him in a flash. Unless everything went perfectly, in fact, this foolhardy escape attempt would see its end before it had a chance to begin.
And that was far too much pressure for old Merk to handle.
His reservations were many, and though he'd tried to convince Kira otherwise, she appeared to be immovable on the topic. Merk was quite aware of the gifts she employed, and with her powerful senses returning, knew that she'd be up there in her room right now, listening to his footsteps and beating heart, seeing him marching about through her mind's eye.
He didn't quite know how far her powers stretched, but he imagined that she wouldn't be able to see him as he slipped into the cells. His thought process, therefore, was taking him down an ugly path. He was, at that moment, very seriously considering the idea of lying, but not to the guards.
To Kira instead.
He'd considered this very plan the night before, after Kira had seemed so adamant that her friends come too. All he had to do was convince her that he'd tried with the guards, but they hadn't believed him. He'd say he tried, and failed, and now their only option was to escape right then and there, without her two friends. She'd hate it, of course, but would have no other option. They could then slip from the villa during the dead of night, giving them plenty of time to get away before anyone was made aware of their absence the following morning.
It was, as Merk saw it, a good plan. Yes, it was something of a betrayal, but not to Kira, only to the others. It was her who saved him, after all, and her whom he owed his life. This was the best way of saving her, and saving himself. The other option was too fraught with risk to make it worthwhile.
So, as he paced from side to side, knowing Kira was listening, he set about calming his pulse and rate of breathing in order to convince her, and not the guards. He'd go down there, hidden from Kira's senses and sight, and pretend to be trying to summon her friends. Then, he'd return without them, rush quickly up to Kira's room, and inform her that he'd failed.
She'd be disappointed, but would accept it. And they could leave that very night, unseen and unhindered, with time to spare to get beyond the city before anyone caught on.
Guilty as it made him feel, Merk had it all figured out. Save two lives rather than sacrificing four. It was a good enough deal as he saw it. A coward's deal, maybe, but a good one for sure.
Still, he hovered in the hall for a little longer, preparing himself for the secret, shameful scheme. It took him some time to get himself fully prepared, going over his plan several more times to ensure he had it all figured out. Thankfully, the hall was clear of people, and his wanderings went unnoticed.
At least, they did until the very minute he drew up his courage, and prepared to take action.
In a typical twist of fate for the old man, a voice cut through the quiet as soon as he began making for the main door of the house, the storm beyond raging now with a new intensity.
He reached the door, set to slip across the yard and down towards the cells, only to be halted by a resonating voice that sliced swiftly towards him across the vestibule.
"Merk, where on earth are you off to?"
He stopped in his tracks, and turned to see Rufus staring at him from halfway down the stairs.
"I, um...just wanted some air," said Merk, getting some practice at lying. It wasn't a good attempt, nor a skill he employed with any great flair.
Rufus balked loudly at the concept.
"Ridiculous, Merk," echoed his voice. "You won't be getting any air, just a whole load of rainwater. If you need fresh air, step out onto the balcony up here. It's undercover you silly old fool."
"Erm...well..."
"Well nothing. Come on, up here. Master Domitian wishes to speak with you anyway."
"He...he does," stammered Merk.
Rufus' eyes narrowed a little.
"You seem awfully nervous, Merk," he said. "Anything the matter?"
Merk's ability to lie was now being tested rather more severely. He was hardly passing with flying colours.
"No," he said, shrugging and unable to meet Rufus' stern gaze. "Nothing's wrong. Just, well, I'm a bit stressed right now. That's all."
Rufus' stare remained where it was for a moment. Merk's did too, right at his feet.
"Well, understandable," said Rufus eventually. "Now come, Master Domitian is waiting. He wishes to further discuss your safety."
Rufus turned and began working back up the stairs. And Merk had no choice but to follow.
Sitting silently in her room, Kira could just about hear the discussion going on below. Her powers remained somewhat dulled, but were beginning to return to her. She had heard Merk pacing, and could sense his nerves. She understood the situation, and knew it would take him time to draw up the courage to make his move.
It seemed he never got a chance.
Rufus had just now accosted him, and their attempt to free Gwyn and Finn was done for the night. She grit her teeth and clenched her fists in frustration as she heard Merk's quiet, unsteady footsteps following Rufus up the stairs, and away towards the balcony, drawn away from their mission. The sound of pouring rain quickly drowned them out, and Kira was left alone once more, nothing to do but wait.
And sitting alone, she whispered to herself.
"Tomorrow," she said. "It will have to be tomorrow."
75
The following day saw more rain. It continued to fall ferociously overnight and into the morning, only subsiding as the afternoon began to take shape. Through the heavy clouds, gaps began to appear, and through those gaps the sun smiled down. It bathed the streets of Neorome in a bright yellow light, illuminating the many large puddles and pools of water that had accumulated all through the city. They danced with the reflection, sparkling more brightly as the gaps widened, and the clouds parted further, and the sun's rays found themselves spreading forth across all the world below.
It was a beautiful sight, really, as always seemed to be the case after a heavy storm. The air held a crisp, clean quality, the humidity that had built over the past few days discarded and swept away. Now, it would build again, and though that day would see no fighting, there would be no further rest for the gladiators once it had passed by.
Dom had used the time wisely.
Alongside Rufus, important steps had already been taken to set arms to the hands of all willing subjects south of the Tiber. Loyal soldiers had been sent out, braving the storm to bring word to the mercenary groups beyond the city. Claudius had been working the financials, hiding the trail that might lead back to Dom. And all the while, word was spreading from Southside that the numbers of Vesper's soldiers there were growing, with the shining silver garb of the Imperial Guard now being spotted all over.
Vesper had clearly taken the initiative, her promises to lend the people more support quickly cast off. Merk's failure no doubt precipitated that, and her natural reaction was to bring vio
lence to the streets. She'd tighten her iron fist, and send it crashing down, filling the lanes and alleys and squares of Southside with enough soldiers to ensure all dissidents were caught and hastily hunted down.
It was the reaction the city expected, and the reaction Dom wanted. And amid it all, with the rains subsiding and the sun shining bright, a messenger trickled through the gates and brought word to him from the palace.
The Empress wished to see him. He had been summoned to her once more.
He quickly mobilised Rufus, the two men joining into a swift discussion up in his office. And the topic at hand was murder.
"This might be our chance," suggested Rufus. "Let me come with you, sir. We have little time to plan anything, but can improvise if we get the opportunity."
Dom agreed.
"Claud is busy here, so you'll be my protector. Frankly, I need you by my side more than ever these days. I imagine she'll meet me in the throne room, though. I don't suspect we'll have any time alone with her."
"Probably not. What do you suppose she wants?"
"Could be all manner of things," said Dom. "She's as likely to reprimand me for Merk's failure as to seek my council on what to do now."
"I'd suggest the former is more likely."
"Agreed. This could well be about what happened with Lucius and Kira too. I suspect she wishes to tell me in person that Kira's to be executed. She'll enjoy that."
"I'd advise not to react, sir, if that's the case. Don't give her the satisfaction. She may be trying to manipulate you into doing something foolish."
"And that's why I need you with me, my friend. Now come, let's not delay. I'd rather get this over and done with as soon as possible."
Beneath the afternoon sunshine, the two men ventured through the villa, out past the waterlogged training yard, and through the gate to Dom's carriage. Claudius was there, preparing it for departure and gathering Dom's usual cohort of mounted guards to go with him.