The Warrior Race Trilogy BoxSet

by T. C. Edge

  He could use the excuse of being part of a system all day long. He could even say how he was a 'good' lanista, if such a thing were possible. That he treated his slaves and servants well. That, deep down, he had a good heart, and regularly fell into moral reflection, questioning his place in the world.

  But did that make it better? Maybe it made it worse. To be aware of it all, and yet do nothing, made him perhaps most culpable of all.

  And now, fastened to this chair, in this room, he wondered if it was all too late. He'd finally worked free from his mother's grip, and was standing up against her. But did that make up for all he'd done? Did it balance the books?

  He looked around the room and knew the answer. He was here, after all.

  And perhaps he deserved it.

  A splash of cold water covered Dom's face, pulling him out of a nightmare.

  His eyes, blurred and weary, opened to find the face of Cranus before him, twisted and ugly as ever.

  "Wake up, Prince," rustled his spiteful, throaty voice. "You've got a visitor..."

  Dom's eyes worked to the door. It was ajar, light drifting in from outside.

  "Who?" he croaked, his voice catching through lack of use.

  "You know what questions lead to," growled Cranus.

  Dom shuddered and withdrew, lowering his gaze.

  "Better," smiled the jailor, feasting upon the deference given by royalty.

  He stood up tall, and tossed the small, empty bucket to one side. It thudded loudly as it bounced off towards the wall, before settling into position. The sudden noise sent a chill through Dom's body, his eyes staying low and nerves on edge.

  Footsteps sounded, moving away. Then the door squealed angrily as it opened fully.

  "All yours, sir," said Cranus, the tone of his voice changing to one of compliance and submission.

  Dom angled his gaze up and took in the sight ahead. Cranus' filthy frame remained in view, blocking the body of another man. The jailor bowed his head and then swept through the door, shutting it tight and casting Dom's guest into the shallow light, filtering from the single lamp within the dusty chamber.

  Dom's chest clenched and his mouth curled into a snarl.

  "Lucius," he growled. "It was you..."

  Lucius stood ahead of Dom, dressed as finely as ever in a set of maroon robes hanging over a pure-white toga. For a moment he said nothing, glancing at the door. Then he swiftly moved towards Dom's chair, his face shaping into a deep frown and head shaking in hurried fashion.

  "Dom, you have to listen to me carefully," he started, his voice a harsh whisper. He glanced to the door again. "We don't have much time, and I'll have to be brief."

  He looked upon Dom's forearms, several fresh cuts dressing them like fine lines of red silk. His left cheek, neck, and chest had seen similar attention, his robes now hanging tattered and open, exposed by Cranus for him to perform his terrible work.

  "My friend," Lucius said, eyes cast in horror. "I'm so sorry for this. I'm so sorry..."

  Dom's eyes were shaped in another manner. A growl swept from his dry, sore throat.

  "Sorry," he whispered. "Sorry for kidnapping me? For setting that freak loose to torture me?"

  Lucius' head flung itself left and right.

  "No, no, it wasn't me!" he whispered hurriedly, glancing again at the door. "I only found out you were here this afternoon."

  So many questions worked into Dom's head. The more ever-present were quickest to rise.

  "This afternoon...what afternoon is it?"

  "Monday," said Lucius. "It's Monday."

  "And...Kira?" asked Dom. "My household? Are they OK? Are my people OK?"

  Lucius nodded hurriedly.

  "Kira's fine. She won her fight yesterday without any trouble at all. And your household are too, Dom. They're not under threat."

  A pulse of relief flushed through Dom. He took a deep breath, grimacing through the pain assailing so much of his body.

  Lucius quickly hurried over to fetch some water from the table. He poured a glass from a flask that didn't look particularly sanitary. His expression upon seeing it said it all.

  "Is this what he's been feeding you?" asked Lucius, expression coiling. He looked again to the door with fire in his eyes.

  Dom nodded.

  "It doesn't matter. Give me some."

  Lucius moved quickly for Dom's chair, gently lifted his chin, and began pouring the putrid water down his throat. Dom drank with such violence that he almost choked, spluttering wildly as Lucius urged him to keep it down.

  "Now, listen to me carefully," said Lucius, placing the cup back to one side. "You have to know I wasn't part of any of this. I know we've had our problems, but this is deplorable. He must have known how I'd feel, and that's why he kept it from me until now. It's the last straw, Dom. I'm done with him."

  "Who?" coughed Dom. "What are you talking about?!"

  "My father," barked Lucius in a grim, disgusted whisper. "He's been behind all of this..."

  The realisation hit Dom like a gut punch from Oom. In a flash, the jigsaw formed and made such sense.

  "The mercenaries," he whispered. "This entire uprising...it was Pontius."

  "Yes," nodded Lucius. "He's been arming Southside for a while now to distract your mother. He's seen how sick this city has become under her rule. We've been working together to destabilise her. Just as you have."

  He knows...

  "I heard whispers," went on Lucius, reading the thoughts in Dom's head. "There was another player in the game, more mercenary groups flooding the streets. I did some digging and found out that you were behind it. It took some work, but I got there in the end."

  "So what's all this?" growled Dom, bunching his fists and looking at his restraints. "We're on the same side! Why the hell did Pontius have me taken? Why did he kill my men?!"

  Lucius looked to the door again. He lifted a finger to his lips.

  "You have to be quiet," he whispered. "Cranus isn't the only guard here. There are several in the building."

  "You're not answering my question," seethed Dom, though doing so with a low rumble. "Why was I taken!"

  "Because you're a threat!" said Lucius suddenly. "My father...he doesn't just want to get rid of Vesper for the city's sake. He wants to take the reins for himself. And he won't tolerate anyone who might jeopardise that. You're a concern for him, Dom."

  "Then why am I still alive? Why hasn't he killed me already."

  "Because he wanted to get information from you first."

  "But I haven't been asked any questions. Cranus doesn't exactly like them..."

  "And that's why I'm here," said Lucius. "My father sent me to read your mind and find out what you might know. Cranus was needed to break you first. Father's looking for any way to get close enough to Vesper to have her killed."

  "And he didn't tell you before? About all of this?"

  Lucius shook his head violently.

  "Not a word. I only found out this afternoon. He told me that you'd be fine, and he just needed me to extract information from you. But I know his real mind. He can't hide it from me, much as he tries. He's going to have you killed Dom. And I can't live with that."

  Lucius reached into his pocket and drew out a small device, about the size and shape of a short pen or pencil. He pulled a cap off the top, revealing a tiny little dart.

  He held it before Dom's eyes so he could see.

  "This will counter the suppressor drugs in your system," he said, "and give you back your telepathy. It's a failsafe in case plan A doesn't work."

  "Plan A?"

  "Yes. I'm going to set orders into the minds of all the guards from here to the exit. The city is quietest shortly before first light, so I'll make sure the timing is right for your escape. Cranus will come and release you, and the others will take simultaneous breaks from their posts, ensuring you have an easy way out. It'll be a couple of hours before dawn. Get yourself out of here, Dom, and back to your ludus. My father won't be able to reach y
ou there."

  "And you? Won't your father know you've helped?"

  "Quite possibly. But I'm finished with him. Our parents are lost, Dom. They're not the future this city needs." He smiled, eyes glowing with a distant memory. "Do you remember when we were kids? How we used to say we'd rule side-by-side, make this city greater than ever?"

  "I remember all too well, old friend."

  "Then let's see it done," said Lucius, his eyes firming. "We'll do it as we always said we would....together."

  Dom smiled, and Lucius did the same, before abruptly jabbing his neck with the dart.

  Dom flinched, the suddenness of it all taking him off guard.

  "Sorry," smirked Lucius, withdrawing the device. He glanced at the door once more. "Now listen, the suppressor drugs will be countered soon, but don't do anything until Cranus comes to free you. I'll ensure all of the soldiers here have their commands buried deep so they act on instinct. The way will be clear for you to escape unnoticed. However, if you feel the need to, I don't know, get some revenge on Cranus and the guards here before you leave, that's fine by me. It will help cover our tracks, and make it seem as though you were rescued by your own men. Feel free to indulge."

  Dom bristled, his pulse beginning to heighten at the thought. He raised a devilish smile, his face possessed by a demon.

  "I may just," he whispered in a low, sinister growl.

  Lucius stood and moved back a couple of steps. Then, without warning, he marched straight in again, and slipped his arms around Dom's back, careful to avoid pressing on his scars.

  He held him silently for a moment and then spoke. Dom was quite shocked by the gesture, his body briefly tensing before starting to relax.

  "I've been a bad friend to you, Dom," Lucius said softy as he held him. "I've been blinded by hate for too long. But you don't deserve that. I've done things I'll regret forever. I'm so...I'm so sorry about Rufus."

  Dom pulled his head away and looked into Lucius' eyes. They were hooded and shamed, his countenance dulled by thoughts of things he'd done, thoughts of what he was.

  "I don't blame you for that," said Dom, giving him what he needed. "It was my mother. It was all her, Lucius. We've both been pawns in our parents' game."

  "Game," nodded Lucius, eyes sharpening again. "Sometimes that's how it feels. It's just a game to them."

  He slowly hovered back, looking over Dom's dirty, beaten frame. Quickly, his fingers now worked to loosen the ropes tying his wrists.

  "Don't," Dom said, halting him. "Cranus may notice. You've done enough already, risking yourself like this. I don't know if I'll ever be able to thank you enough."

  Lucius bowed his head.

  "You won't ever have to."

  "But I will. I won't forget, Lucius. Not ever."

  The two men shared a look that went back so many years. One of true loyalty and friendship, of a bond so deep that, even after all they'd been through, couldn't be concealed forever. It was coming to life again, like a seed in a burnt down wood, spouting the first sign of green.

  And that seed would be the start of something new. Their past would be cast aside, the senseless squabbles finally quashed. And now it was time to look to the future.

  As Lucius moved for the door, a final question raised up in Dom's head.

  "Lucius," he said, stopping his friend in his tracks.

  Lucius turned.

  "Yes?"

  "I need to know. Kira...when is she next to fight?"

  Lucius' eyes fell.

  "Tomorrow," came a hollow voice. "She's in the first quarter-final."

  Dom's heart rate spiked. The look on Lucius' face inspired concern and nothing else.

  "Who?" he asked, trying to sift through the draw in his head.

  And then he realised he already knew. He knew the schedule, and how the seedings worked. If they went to rank, then the final eight fighters would line up as follows: The two first seeds on either side of the draw would fight the two fourth seeds on the other. That would leave, therefore, the second and third seeds to battle it out.

  Kira was Dom's third. And that meant only one thing.

  "Tomahawk," Dom whispered, shaking his head in premature defeat. He lifted his eyes. "It's Tomahawk, isn't it?"

  Lucius nodded silently.

  "He won his bout today. He...didn't break a sweat. I'm sorry, Dom. I..."

  Dom shut his eyes, knowing there was nothing he could do.

  "It's OK, Lucius," he whispered. Then he smiled, and nodded to himself, turning his thoughts around. "She always seems to overcome the odds," he said. "It's in her hands now..."

  100

  The gate to the cells swung open loudly, sending a metallic clang around the dungeon. It reverberated through the main chamber and went whipping around corners, shouting down every alcove and causing their occupants to grumble.

  Down one, Malvo lay upon his bench in a stupor, hidden away in the shadows. Down another, Oom had squeezed his mighty frame, packed in tight between the walls. A third was occupied by a familiar figure who, for some time, had seen her treatment here take a positive turn. Now she was back where she belonged, sitting glum in the gloom, still praying for Dom to return.

  The swinging of the cell door gave Kira some hope. Each time it opened up, she darted into the main dungeon, setting her eyes on the gate to see if Dom's handsome face might appear. Each time she was denied, the arrivals being guards or slaves bringing food or fresh garments.

  As the cell door rattled violently, therefore, she felt quite sure it wouldn't interest her. And so it turned out when she came to check, and saw the final resident of the prison being brought back after a successful day's work.

  Kira watched as Shadow wandered through, though floated might have been a more appropriate word given the length of his black combat robes and the manner in which they almost hid his feet. He glided in and headed straight for the water fountain, efficiently replenishing his liquids before slipping away into the darkness. He didn't give Kira a look or acknowledge her presence. His weeks here had set his mind to the single task of winning the games. Do so, and he could go home to his one true master.

  Kira slunk away into her den once more, totally unsurprised and yet bitterly disappointed to see Shadow return. His fight today was against Lucius' eight seed, so she can't imagine he'd have been troubled. Now, the last of the quarter finalists had been decided, and tomorrow the first two bouts were set to take place.

  Several curse words had been uttered the previous night and throughout that day. Most of them directed at Claudius, who'd signed Kira's life away by putting her under watch down here. If only she'd been smarter, she might have sped down the secret passage while she had a chance. In the end, there was no outsmarting a man like Claudius, whose process of rational thought had him determining just what Kira might do. After all, he was a Savant. Kira was quite aware how clever and cunning his kind were.

  The hours had, however, forced her to take stock of her situation in a less emotional, and more level-headed manner. She'd had her night of stewing and festering, and had given much of the day over to the same. Now, with the clock ticking down, it was becoming evident that Dom wasn't coming back, certainly not by the following morning before she was to be taken to the arena.

  And, well, even if he did, what exactly could he do? Nothing had truly changed with regards her presence here. They'd spoken about her leaving, and she'd agreed that she couldn't without drawing far too much attention to Dom's household and, in turn, leading to possible reprisals. It was the very reason why Claud brought her down here once more, hiding her away under lock and key. During her calmer moments, she knew he was doing the right thing. And she felt somewhat ashamed for letting her cowardice rule her, and for making a plan to leave.

  Still, it was quite natural for someone to be influenced by self-preservation, and Kira argued to herself that, with Dom missing and, possibly, already taken by Vesper, her escape wouldn't necessarily cause much harm. She told herself too that it wo
uldn't be the end. She'd escape only to return to the city of her own accord, utilising her skills, powers, and experience as a spy and assassin to sneak back into the city, find Dom, and complete the task of murdering the Empress. Easy.

  That was the bigger picture, as she saw it. But it had been entirely scuppered by a damned Savant. There was some irony in that, given Kira's history of fighting such people back in Haven. It was only odd that, while there they were so revered, here they could be nothing but servants and slaves.

  The world was truly a strange place...

  All things aside, Kira was fully aware now that she needed to centre her mind, and take some heart from her victories so far. She'd survived the cull. She'd defeated Redmane under difficult conditions. She'd...well, her botched execution really wasn't anything to do with her. That was all Rufus. Lovely, wonderful Rufus...

  Truly, her conquests were, objectively at least, quite impressive. Yet they remained entirely out of context and had no reference points to compare them to. After all, were a fighter like Tomahawk to have been involved in the cull, how might he have performed? By the sounds of it, he'd have dispatched all his opponents with consummate ease, hardly having to get out of first gear.

  What about a fight between him and Redmane? Would he have beaten the hirsute giant more easily than Kira did? Would the flamed-haired beast even have presented a challenge?

  The trouble was that each fight was nuanced, and it wasn't easy to pick a winner. Certain power sets and abilities were favourable against particular fighters but not others. Kira knew this all too well, and was always much happier fighting larger, stronger men that smaller ones with supreme pace. If she had to choose between fighting Oom and Shadow, for example, she'd take Oom every single time. He was very fast, yes, particularly for such a titan, but not to her level. She'd actually be fairly confident of wearing him out eventually, nipping at him until he faded and she could find a killing blow.

  But Shadow? From what she'd seen of him in the yard, his pace was utterly devastating. He was quicker than her, stronger, efficient and accurate in everything he did. He was the sort of foe she feared the most.