by T. C. Edge
Dom listened, waiting. The muffled voices continued for a couple of moments, before stopping. Dom sensed that Cranus had got near. Then, the distinct sound of a blade being drawn reached his ears, metal slicing from its sheath, followed immediately by the sound of choking and gurgling, bubbling up loudly from below. A moment later, two thuds as the guards hit the floor.
A whistle, poorly executed, floated up the stairs. Dom quickly headed down to find Cranus beside a central desk, two bodies at his side. Blood was gathering quickly beneath them, spreading silently from their open necks.
Dom pursed his lips appreciatively.
"Good job," he said.
He looked up at Cranus, whose eyes were elsewhere. Dom followed the jailor's gaze and found him staring across the hall, right at the exit to the building.
And just beyond, through the frosted window in the front door, two shadows were coming.
103
"Protect me, Cranus. Whatever you do, protect me. And kill them!"
Dom's words rushed as he saw the two guards push open the double doors, their forms visible through the little glass windows. He ran quickly for the desk and hurled himself down behind it, just as the guards stepped into the atrium.
Their eyes met the bloodied corpses at the centre of the room, and then lifted straight for the man standing beside them, a knife, dripping blood, locked in his grip.
The world appeared to pause for a moment, the guards wondering just what had happened. And then, with a hiss from Dom, Cranus surged into action.
Hidden from view, Dom could only hope and pray that his man got the job done. In truth, he had no manner of knowing what powers Cranus possessed. His confidence that he could kill the four guards on duty could have been based on all manner of things. Delusion. Misinformation. A belief that he'd be able to use stealth and familiarity to get close enough to perform the deed.
He'd done that with the guards right here, but now the goalposts had moved. He was in a live fight. And Dom's life was in his hands.
Huddled tight at the base of the desk, Dom made sure to keep as silent as possible so as not to be detected. He could hear the frantic rush of movement as Cranus surged forward, sure that the guards would react in time to halt his sudden and unexpected attack. The element of surprise was gone. And it was two against one.
Dom waited, the hall now heaving with a cacophony of movement and wild, unrestrained grunts. He could hear the pinging of metal, knives and other blades meeting and deflecting, ripping at robes and cutting at flesh. A roar lifted, louder than the others, shrieking right through the vestibule. Dom tried to figure whether it belonged to his man. Honestly, he had no idea.
A curiosity struck at him, and he crawled down the side of the desk, creeping his eyes around the edge. His glance was brief but enough to paint a picture. Cranus remained in operation, but so did the others. One was limping badly, blood surging from his left leg. The other had several gashes and slices upon his face and hands. Cranus, meanwhile, was stalking left and right like a tiger, back bent and body hung low, eyes flaring with a wild, manic intensity.
He was bloodied like the others, splashes of red across his robes and face. It was hard for Dom to determine whether it belonged to him or the guards.
Dom glanced a second time as the rush resumed, a heavy breathing puffing into the chamber. He caught sight of the violent flow of bodies, forming in a blur as they thrashed and wreathed. Then, one figure came spinning from the maelstrom, accompanied by a heavy grunt. He careened straight to where Dom hid, hitting the floor and sliding towards the desk.
Dom watched him come, and saw that it was the man with the limp, his leg badly opened. He was clutching a second wound now, his neck cut down one side and spurting blood into his hands with every heartbeat. Dom set about withdrawing to cover again, but the man saw him first.
His eyes shaped into a framing of hate, and he reached a spare hand quickly for a knife. Dom had no time to react. He leaned forward immediately, set his gaze upon the man, and worked straight into his head. He could feel the guards hatred and anger swelling, see the action he was about to take, his desire to cut Dom down.
He wouldn't get the chance.
Dom took immediate control, dismissing the guard's internal orders and installing his own. The guard's eyes went hazy for a moment before dulling. Then, as per Dom's commands, he released the hand covering his wounded neck, stood from the floor, and rushed straight back for the fray.
It was two against one.
But now it was the other way.
Dom leaned around the side of the desk again, the floor now covered in patches of blood. The wounded guard ran in, blood oozing from leg and neck alike, and set his sights straight on his companion. The man didn't see him coming. He turned only once the knife had been plunged straight through his back, killing him instantly.
One by one, the two guards fell to the floor. First, the one with the knife in his back. Then the other, his neck spitting his final reserves of blood. They toppled to the ground, side by side, leaving only the sound of Cranus' heavy breathing behind.
Dom stood, his nerves strained and heart pumping frantically, and moved back into the centre of the hall. Cranus' eyes stared down upon the men at his feet, and the other two over by the desk. He'd murdered four of his comrades under Dom's commands. But there was one more killing to be done.
"Well done, Cranus," murmured Dom, admiring his good work. "I would say you've saved my life, but that's not strictly true. Really, I saved my own. You were just a vessel for me to command."
Dom moved closer to the jailor, who stood immobile. He circled behind him, shutting his eyes to draw in the sense of loathing and malice pulsing so powerfully from Cranus' body. His feelings for Dom were so very clear, yet suppressed by the Prince's control of his mind. The conflict within the man was torture. He could do nothing to act upon his desires.
Dom reached his front again and stared right into his eyes.
"You've been a good tool for me, Cranus," he said sinisterly. "Almost enough for me to forgive your actions. But...not quite. Unfortunately, there can be no witnessed to this event. The time has come for you to die."
Dom moved towards the exit, stepping over the bodies and blood. When he reached the threshold, he turned a final time.
"I'll give you one concession," he called out. "I'll make sure its quick. You see, Cranus, anything else would make me just like you. Now do it. Draw your knife, and cut into your heart. Goodbye, Cranus."
Dom didn't need to look. He heard the slicing of flesh, the grunting of terrible pain and hurried breathing. A tumble of limbs followed as a body hit the floor.
Then silence.
The deed was done.
Outside the building, the first light of dawn was starting to bloom, the world blushing a vibrant pink. Dom stepped across the threshold and took in a breath of cool, clear air. A thick flow of relief permeated him, his limbs shaking and breath rushing. He turned left and right and saw an empty street, the centre of Neorome many miles away.
He was exhausted, the exertions of escaping his cell now calling in their debt. He'd done enough to keep himself steady, but it was time to pay the piper. Moving eastwards down the dusty old road, his legs were weak and declaring an intention to give way. He stumbled and fell, adding scrapes and grazes to the many cuts across his arms and chest.
The air was punched out of him as he met with the earth. Wheezing, he got back to his knees, then feet, feeling desperate for rest. His eyes searched for some hiding spot he could take refuge in. It would be too dangerous to stop and rest anywhere nearby. Pontius' men would no doubt be here soon now that their line to Cranus and the guards had been severed.
He marched on, progress slow. The pain within his back sharpened, battering at him now as the adrenaline that flooded him as he worked through the building drained swiftly away, leaving only a residue of profound exhaustion in its wake. He stopped, moving into a short alley, and fell to the floor. He needed to rest for
at least a few minutes. He needed to purge himself of the shivering within his legs and the imminent threat of buckling at the knee.
He leaned against a wall, and the powerful urge to sleep quickly began to overcome him. He snapped his eyes back open, knowing it was folly. He couldn't stop here. Not here. It was far too dangerous.
His eyes slid shut again. Then an echoing rumbled down the path, a clattering noise that was only distorted in Dom's mind. The sounds took shape as he reopened his eyes once more, and the distinct rattle of wagon wheels and stamping horses hooves reverberated through the empty street.
He turned to the edge of the alley, a spike of concern hurrying his mind back into action. A pulse of adrenaline renewed his vigilance and he heaved himself back to his feet, searching for somewhere to hide.
So high strung were his nerves that the immediate thought was of Pontius. His men must have known of the commotion. There must have been reserves nearby, ready to leap into action...
The wagon rolled closer, rushing up before Dom could do anything. He turned to run away down the tight alley, but his legs refused to operate as commanded. He tripped over his feet as he turned, crashing into a jutting cobble that pressed into his flank and rattled his insides. For the second time, the air was gut-punched from his lungs and he lay, gasping upon the stone and praying his blurring head didn't completely switch off.
Blinking ferociously, he swung his gaze back towards the alley to find the wagon coming into view, flanked by a couple of horses. The men atop them were cloaked and dressed in dark robes. They stopped, coming to a quick halt, and sent their eyes right upon Dom.
He backed away, scrambling now to escape. He heard a hurry of voices and footsteps behind him. In a flash, a hand was wrapping around his shoulder and stopping him in his tracks. Words fluttered though his head but took a moment to make sense.
"Master Domitian...stop."
He flung his gaze back round to his attacker, ready to muster his final defence and take command of his mind. He found a pair of worried eyes looking upon him. Eyes he knew.
Another man stood to the other side. He knew him too.
A swift panting worked out of his body as he saw them. He fell again to his knees as the two guards from the ludus took his arms and steadied him, pulling him back up. And looking ahead, he saw a final man moving swiftly from the wagon, his white hair neatly in place and his eyes ever alert.
"Master Domitian," said Claudius, coming forward. "I'm here to take you home."
With those words, Dom's head gave in, and faded straight to black.
104
"Me and you again," smiled Oom, that bountiful grin of his doing little to convey the seriousness of what lay ahead. "We are good omens for each other. We win always, Kira. We will win today again."
Kira tried to smile under the blazing sun of the yard, but found such a thing impossible. She managed a nod, only. Oom seemed aware of her doubts.
"You fight Tomahawk," he asserted. "He is strong. But so are you, Kira. You prove it always. Oom believes in you."
She looked up at his gigantic form and, this time, was able to raise a little grin.
"Thanks," she whispered. "I hope so."
"Don't hope," declared the giant. "Know. It is the only way."
His words were unexpectedly wise.
"And you?" Kira asked. "Do you know you're going to win today?"
Oom frowned and heaved a full breath into his mighty lungs.
"Of course," he said proudly. "I always know I will win. If you don't think you win, you already lose."
He reached across and set a huge paw to Kira's dainty shoulder. And as he did, the doors to the villa opened, and Claudius marched straight out. He looked tired and drawn out, though his voice ran out in its usual perfect form when he spoke.
"Good morning, everyone," he said swiftly, looking upon the four gladiators lined up on the sand. "Today is the first day of the quarter finals. Kira and Oom, as you know, it's your turn first. Shadow and Malvo, you shall be fighting tomorrow. Take the day preparing. As you can probably tell from my presence, I shall be escorting you to the arena once more today. Master Domitian isn't up to it, I'm afraid."
He lifted his hand and waved to the guards at the gate to open it up. His eyes swung to Kira and then up to Oom.
"OK, let's get going."
Kira followed Claudius through the gate and to the wagon. The guards mounted their steeds and the gladiators were set into place. Claudius climbed in beside them, the carriage tilting as always to one side, given Oom's presence.
As they began rolling through the courtyard and out of the compound, heading once more for the Colosseum, Kira took a moment to inspect Claudius. There was something in his face that intrigued her. It looked like a slight weight had been lifted.
She wondered if there had been any update on Dom. Had Claudius discovered something about his whereabouts? Were they set to mount a rescue of some kind? She considered asking, but only briefly. With Oom there, Claudius would probably just sidestep the issue. And, besides, she felt it important to maintain her focus on her fight.
Still, Claudius appeared to see her watching him. He looked at her once or twice with a minor twinkle to his eye, a rare thing for the stern old man. Though words weren't spoken along the journey, Kira felt a faint hope rise. As they battled through the growing crowds, cheering her name and that of Oom as the carriage passed, she moved a little closer to the old Savant, sliding along the bench as far as her chains would take her.
As Oom pressed his giant head through the curtains, taking the applause of the throng, Kira whispered lightly to Claudius, "Has something happened with Dom?"
Claudius stared at her for a moment and then nodded.
"Keep your mind on your fight, Kira," he said. "That's what Master Domitian would want."
"That's not an answer, Claud!" hissed Kira. "Tell me, and I can get it off my head."
The carriage began pulling to a stop outside the arena, moving from the crowd and through a cordon of guards towards the competitors entrance. It was the last chance she'd get to settle the issue in her head. She leaned in closer and asked the question again.
Claudius nodded subtly. His old lips creaked open.
"Master Domitian is safely back at the ludus," he whispered. "I picked him up early this morning..."
"What! Where?! He's OK?!"
"Settle yourself," whispered the old man. "He's fine, and he's safe now. All will be revealed later, Kira. But only if you survive today. Turn your thoughts from Master Domitian and to your own mortality. If you want to see him again, you must defeat Tomahawk."
His words stoked the fires within her. An expression of utter resolution awoke upon her face. Her many hours of meditation and deliberation over defeating Tomahawk soared within her mind, her concentration and focus fixing to stone, unbreakable.
She didn't need to speak. The sudden energy that poured from her was plenty.
"Good," said Claudius, looking upon her and nodding. "Now go out there and win."
Away from the arena, in the quiet of the villa, Dom stirred within his bed.
His eyes fluttered and opened, and he took in the shape of the room around him. With a sudden start, the memory of his escape came flooding back. He sat up and looked around the comfortable, roomy bedchambers he knew so well and felt a sudden flow of relief shudder through him.
Claudius...
He smiled with thoughts of his chief aid, rushing out there to the outskirts of the city to save him. He must have been apprised of the situation by Lucius, informing him just of where he'd be, and when.
Pulling himself up into a sitting position, Dom felt no strikes of pain in his back. They must have given me pain medication, he thought, pulling the sleeves of his bed-robes up his arms and looking at the plasters and dressings wrapped around them. His chest, too, had been attended, all of the minor wounds inflicted by Cranus skilfully patched up and already on the mend.
His head, however, remained heav
y, indicating that his rest had been brief. Reaching across to his bedside table, he picked up a little bell and rang it firmly. It tinkled off through the door and echoed down the stairs. A moment later, a flurry of footsteps came rushing, and the door opened.
Silia stood in the doorway, her pretty face carved into a smile.
"Master Domitian!" she said, stepping straight forward. "You're awake. We were all so worried."
She came right for him, as if about to wrap him up in her arms. She remembered herself just in time and stood back, regaining her formality as she observed the rules of the master-servant relationship.
"Would you like me to get you anything?" she asked. "Water? Wine? Are you hungry? I can fetch some food if you like..."
Dom raised a hand to calm her.
"I'm fine, Silia. Just fine. I'd just like some information is all. Tell me, how long have I been back here?"
"Oh, since early this morning, sir. The day was just dawning when Claudius brought you in. I was addressing my pre-dawn duties when..."
"What time is it now?" cut in Dom. A tension gripped at him and he sat up firmly. He looked to the window and noted the warm yellow light outside. He couldn't see the position of the sun but the shade of its glow gave him cause for concern.
"It's a little into the afternoon, sir," said Silia softly.
Dom shifted right out of his bed, stepping to the floor.
"Sir, Claudius said for you to stay in bed," rushed Silia's voice. "You need to rest and recover..."
"Silia, how long ago did the gladiators leave?!"
"Um..."
"Silia! Answer me!"
"At the usual time," she mumbled. "An hour or so ago..."