The Warrior Race Trilogy BoxSet

by T. C. Edge

  "Yes, so I'm told," said Cicero. "I'd be interested to know just how you worked out Polus was here?"

  The table went silent for a moment. Both men turned to Merk, setting down their spoons and handing him an opportunity to explain. Again, he imagined that Polus must also be well aware, and that he'd probably told his best friend too. Maybe this was just a game they played, or some way of testing Merk to see if he was truthful. Either way, he was happy to oblige.

  "I guess...well, I suppose I just worked it out for myself," said Merk. "I always had this theory that Polus was alive..."

  "So you were in that camp, huh," remarked Cicero.

  "I believed, er, that he was exiled by Vesper as the official line goes," continued Merk. "But all the rumours about your death, Polus, well they didn't sit right with me. It occurred to me that, if you were alive, you'd try to stay nearby to Neorome, somewhere you could hide but be close enough to watch over the city, or perhaps visit friends. I don't know, it wasn't particularly thought out. Just a hunch, really, that you'd come here. I knew about all the rumours of the forest being haunted, so thought it would be a good option for you..."

  "You did more than know about them, Merk." Polus looked at Cicero. "Would you believe that Merk here was one of the old bandits who ruled these woods? He and his cronies were the very ones who started the rumours in the first place."

  Merk dipped his eyes and disappeared into his cup of wine. Cicero merely laughed joyously at the coincidence.

  "I'm amazed those rumours held up for so long," he chuckled. "Do you remember, Polus, when we came here as youngsters on one of our adventures?"

  "Indeed. We came to be brave and to see if the legends were true. I recall it being highly disappointing to discover such a pleasant and inviting place."

  The two men began laughing as they reminisced, Merk sipping his wine and eating his stew as he watched. It was exhilarating seeing his hero up close. Hearing him speak of the old times with such a wide, buoyant smile to his face. It appeared that so many years in the wild hadn't diminished his ebullient spirit, his effervescence still in good order.

  Merk watched, listened, and the smile grew upon his lips too. Such was his comfort that he even laid his right hand upon the table, lacking its two fingers. Usually, he'd hide his disfiguration in public and when around strangers. Within minutes, he didn't see these two as such. He looked upon them as friends. People he'd heard about, talked about, for so many years. The legends he'd read. The tales he'd heard tell at the baths and taverns. The very books and stories written by Cicero himself, dealing with Polus the man behind the gladiator mask.

  People had discounted Cicero's work, considering Polus' private character of little interest compared to his great mind and almost mythical feats. Yet Merk had always been fascinated by the rare accounts of Cicero's that he'd read, learning of their friendship, their adventures, and the truth of who Polus really was.

  Not once had he doubted the work, or questioned its validity. He always believed Polus to be the gregarious man who he'd once met, so briefly, with his dear daughter. The man of great humour and kindness, his smile so abundant and nature so magnetic.

  And now here he was, right ahead of Merk, chatting so happily with his dear friend Cicero. It was, perhaps, the most thrilling and intoxicating thing to have ever happened to the old sailor from the sea.

  It went on for a time, and Merk forgot just why he was there. He ate his food and drank his wine, and spoke of old times and the city as it once was. He grew confident and comfortable in his hosts' presence, the three men of similar age and able to recount old times from a similar perspective.

  And in a way, their lives had followed similar courses. Merk, once adventurous himself, had seen his life stripped away when his daughter died, his world torn apart. It wasn't long after that he'd lost his fingers, turned meek and mild, and shrivelled to become the submissive man he was today.

  For Polus, and Cicero by extension, the world had changed for them too at a similar time. Polus' exile had him leaving the city, moving into the shadows to live a quiet life away from the limelight. Cicero went on, wrote his works, but found little solace in the act. Merk wondered whether he knew of Polus' whereabouts when he wrote them, or whether Polus came to him later. So much must have happened over the last couple of decades that he'd be so eager to hear. He could sit in this secret cavern for days and listen to these two talk, the stories that they could tell.

  He felt a kinship with them, a sense of brotherhood almost. And in much the same way as Polus could dip into Merk's mind and know all there was to know about him, Merk felt he knew Polus just as well too. He was more than a hero to him. He was a friend. And as he relaxed, so his mind began to turn to his purpose once more.

  He looked at Polus directly, and settled his smile, closing his lips. He placed as serious a look as he could muster upon his brow and within his eyes. He prepared to speak, but didn't get the chance. As was his way, Polus got there first.

  "Yes, yes I know, Merk," he said softly, the chamber falling quiet. "You've come here to ask for my help. Now...let's talk."

  102

  The room in which Dom was being kept was in pitch darkness. It had been many hours now since Lucius had left, and the little gas lamp that had been setting a glow to the room had faded and gone out. It left a deep shade of black, the windowless chamber given no illumination but for the thinnest of yellow lines around the frame of the door.

  It was silent now, and late. Dom's eyes were heavy, a deep sense of drowsiness growing more threatening to his cause with each passing minute. His time in the chair had been restless, so little sleep taken. He longed for a more substantial rest, to be rid of these shackles and free from this place. But for now, he had to stay alert, and stay awake. It was paramount that, when Cranus came calling, he was ready to take immediate action.

  Behind his eyes, though dulled by a desperate need to rest, a change was taking place. It was hard to explain. Just a feeling, really, that the drugs he'd been given were wearing off, dismissed by the antidote Lucius applied. For a long time, Dom had made use of both suppressor drugs, and those designed to counter their effects. Until now, however, he'd never used them.

  Still, he felt a growing power with him once again, and prayed now for Cranus to arrive. The vile creature had quickly become a figure of some fear for Dom. His slow footsteps, working down the creaking corridor amid the silence, were a harbinger for pain, physical or mental, his methods of torture and intimidation going beyond the mere use of his crude knife. At first, Dom had been his match, but he'd swiftly grown to dread their interactions.

  Until now.

  Now, he waited, desperately trying to stay alert. If Lucius had done his work properly, Cranus should be arriving sometime before first light, set to release him from his bonds. He'd do it without thinking, the order buried deep in his mind. And elsewhere in the building, the other guards would step away, turning their backs for Dom to escape.

  He bristled at the thought. He wasn't going to make it that easy...

  Time stretched on, thinning as though butter spread too miserly over bread. He had no method of knowing the hour, locked in darkness and silence. All he knew was that Lucius had come that Monday afternoon, and certainly after the games had finished for the day. It would, therefore, have been heading towards evening, giving Dom some reference point to work off. By his estimations, midnight had come and gone a good while ago, and Tuesday's dawn was gathering steam and preparing to rise.

  Any minute now, he thought, Cranus should come.

  But the waiting went on, and with it Dom's worries rose. Was this just a cruel ruse? Was Lucius just acting, pretending to help when actually he and Lord Pontius were laughing behind his back? Did Lucius really intend to team up with Dom now, to turn against his father and the Empress, set things right after all these years?

  Maybe this was all just a trick, a plan to lower Dom's defences. Maybe, when Cranus next came, it wouldn't be with an order deeply
entrenched in his mind to set Dom free. Perhaps it would be to torture him further, all of this just a sickening game. Dom's mind would be opened, and Lucius would march back in, finding his subject far more malleable and susceptible to his mental excavations.

  He'd find out all Dom knew, everything he'd been doing and was planning. And then, once he'd drained his memories and taken them for his own, he'd click his fingers and watch Cranus go to work. And as the creep had told him, Dom would die right here in this chair. He'd never leave the room...

  His thoughts were grim as time stretched on, and his anxieties took up command within his head. Yet such were his sudden concerns, that his weariness was swept away, a fresh feeling of alertness blooming within. And with it came the thought, once more, that his telepathy really was returning. That Lucius had given him the antidote. That his friend was being truthful and honest.

  That he really did want to help.

  Tap tap tap.

  Dom's body snapped up as the light echoes came. The sound of feet drumming against the floorboards, inching closer and growing louder. The motion was familiar now to Dom, and the weight of the footfall too. He looked to the thin lines surrounding the door frame, and saw two shadows appear.

  The door clicked and opened. It squealed on its hinges, so loud within the silence, and the shallow light from the corridor rolled in like a wave. The shadow grew into that of a man, and the man stepped forward, moving with a strangely ethereal flow. Dom looked into Cranus' eyes, and saw the mist within them. He wandered calmly to Dom's side, and his scarred fingers crept from the arms of his cloak. Without speaking, without saying a work, he reached for the ropes, so tightly bound to Dom's wrist.

  He stopped, taking pause.

  Dom glanced up into his eyes, but saw that he was looking away. The man was battling the order in his head. He was sensing this felt unnatural.

  Look at me, Dom urged. Look at me and I'll finish what Lucius started.

  He didn't. But he didn't need to.

  After a short delay, Cranus' fingers began to work, unraveling the tight knot around Dom's left wrist, before stepping around to release his right. Dom immediately ran his fingers over the sores, his wrists red, burning and swelling angrily. He kept his breathing in line as Cranus knelt down, now working to free his ankles.

  Watching, he whispered, "Thank you, Lucius."

  And now he could take his revenge.

  He stood for the first time in days, grimacing as he worked to his feet. His back flared and ached wildly, but he had no time for the pain or discomfort now. He turned to Cranus, who stood ahead of him, his horrid face still curled in confusion, looking upon Dom and wondering just why he'd freed him.

  Dom smiled at him, his teeth bared and tired brown eyes descending into shadow. He stared right through the lenses into his jailor's black soul, and plunged quickly into the empty vacuum of his mind. The feeling was joyous. He took a long, sweeping breath with the knowledge that his powers were back.

  And Cranus was his.

  He worked him under his spell, the jailor's mind so weak and easy to manipulate. A hundred possible commands swam through Dom's brain. Oh the possibilities. How he'd make Cranus suffer now.

  He started small and simple. Echoing through Cranus' desolate cognition, his first order quickly spread.

  Withdraw your knife, he told him. Use it to cut yourself on the forearm. Deep.

  Immediately, Cranus drew the knife from the sheath attached to his belt. Without hesitation, he placed the sharp edge upon the flesh of his opposite arm, slicing straight through skin and muscle. His forearm opened up, the cut deep, and a flow of dark blood began to pour.

  "Good," whispered Dom. "Oh, I have you now."

  He flashed again into Cranus' head, this time issuing a general command.

  You will do everything I say, swelled his voice. You will follow my every command. React with a nod.

  Cranus nodded.

  Smiling, Dom began circling the man, stretching his limbs. His breathing was hurrying along, the excitement of being free, of having this twisted creature under his control, setting a bustling pace to his heart. Yet he knew it was of little importance really. His goal now was to get back home, return to his ludus safely and without being seen.

  First, he needed information, and he had to be quick about it. Lucius hadn't had time to bring Dom fully up to speed, and Dom was well aware that the window Lucius had opened in devising this escape wouldn't last long. The guards would turn a blind eye due to his commands, but only for a short period.

  He had to be quick.

  Moving towards the door, he slipped his eyes down the corridor. It was long, dark, and ended in a staircase heading down.

  He turned back to Cranus, his voice a whisper.

  "How many floors to this building?"

  "Three," croaked Cranus without delay.

  "How many guards on duty?"

  "Four."

  "Including you?"

  "No."

  "Where are they gathered?"

  "On the ground floor. Two in the main hallway on the ground level. Two more patrolling the perimeter outside."

  Dom considered it. It sounded about right. Two guarding the entrance to the building, which was no doubt unoccupied but for them, and another two checking the front and back.

  "Any other security in the area?" asked Dom.

  "None."

  "And which floor are we on now?"

  "The third floor."

  "OK, Cranus. Now answer truthfully. Do you have the capability to kill these men?"

  The delay in Cranus' answer was only brief, but enough to know that, somewhere in there, his mind was struggling to break free of Dom's hold. The Prince had seen it before, many times. He stepped back to the jailor, swept into his consciousness, and repeated his orders again, ensuring he had complete and total command.

  Then he pulled away, and repeated the question.

  "Yes," said Cranus, answering immediately this time. "I can kill them."

  "You're certain?"

  "Yes."

  Dom moved to the door once again, glancing down the passage. This wasn't about revenge, at least not with the guards below. They were just unfortunate to be working for Pontius and to be guarding this particular building. He felt no ill-will towards them. Rather, he was mindful of what Lucius had said, and knew that killing the men would be far better for the both of them, removing any possible witnesses to their collusion.

  Cranus, however, was another matter. With the jailor, it was personal.

  "OK," said Dom, standing at the threshold. He was mindful of the time. He needed to get moving. "We're going to go down to the main hallway and you'll kill the two guards on duty there. Use your knife. Be as quiet as possible. Then we'll go outside. Got it?"

  "Yes," came the droning tone of a man without choice.

  Dom stepped forward and passed the threshold, walking quietly into the darkened corridor. Another thought quickly lit in his head, and he turned back to his torturer-turned-slave with a whisper.

  "The guards below. Do any have enhanced hearing?"

  "Not in the hall. The two outside do."

  Dom nodded, turned, and proceeded down the passage, working swiftly but quietly towards the stairs. Most likely, the guards would still be under the spell set by Lucius, and thus Dom's passing would go unnoticed. Yet Dom remained wary in case something had gone wrong. That was the control-freak in him.

  The boards creaked as he stepped down the staircase, passing to the second floor. The building appeared to be a simple apartment block, long since abandoned and falling apart in places. Its size and general layout made it clear they were somewhere far from the city centre, out towards the suburbs in one of the derelict parts of town over in the west. He imagined that he wasn't too far from his safe house where Merk, Gwyn and Finn were currently residing.

  I'll have to see to them soon, he reminded himself. I promised them passage across the sea, and I'll make damn sure I give it...

>   Such concerns, however, would have to wait for now.

  He continued down the stairs, working straight for the first floor. He stopped on the landing. A muffle of noise was sweeping from downstairs in the central atrium of the building. He strained his ears and heard voices, two men in casual conversation by their tones.

  His frame stiffened. Had Lucius' commands worn off? Were they discussing the anomaly and why they'd taken a random, unplanned break?

  Dom stood still for a moment, working things through in his head. Then a thought came to mind. One that might just screw things up.

  Shit.

  He looked to Cranus, standing just behind him.

  "Do the guards here work in shifts?" he whispered.

  "Yes."

  "When was the last change?"

  The faintest of smiles tried to lift on Cranus' lips.

  "Midnight," he said.

  Damn it, thought Dom, his fears confirmed. Lucius clearly hadn't seen that little hiccup. He'd been here well before midnight, and will have set the orders into the heads of the wrong men. The only constant presence appeared to be Cranus. At least he got that right.

  Dom performed a quick analysis of the situation. Things had changed, but not dramatically so. He still had the jailor under his command, and that was the main thing. He turned his eyes to him again now, slipped into his head, and made sure he had total compliance.

  Satisfied, he spoke.

  "Cranus, you're going to wander casually down to the hall. You're going to go up to the guards. When you get close enough to both of them, you're going to cut their throats with your knife, fast enough so that neither can react. Answer truthfully. Is that possible?"

  "Yes," droned the wretched creature.

  Dom had little to do but trust him. It was a strange irony, really, having to be saved now by the very man who'd been torturing him.

  "OK, Cranus. I'm going to wait here. When you're done, whistle faintly and I'll come down. Now go."

  Cranus moved off without pause, walking down the final set of stairs as Dom slunk back, drifting into the shadows. He waited patiently, listening to the footsteps of Cranus as he tried to walk casually, as per his orders, before they grew quiet as he reached the hall. The low hum of the voices changed a little, growing in volume as they noticed Cranus coming, and called out to him across the atrium.