by T. C. Edge
"I must say, it's so wonderful to have guests," came Polus' musical voice, bouncing off through the cave and out into the starlit night. "It's been so long since this place held such laughter. It's just a shame you cannot stay longer. I understand how you all wish to return to where you belong."
And so should you, thought Merk, smiling along.
"Well, there's no reason why we can't extend the fun," said Finn. Merk stiffened. Finn looked perfectly casual. "After all," he went on, "I'm certain Prince Domitian would welcome you into his villa. Your stew is delicious Cicero, but I'm sure theirs is just as nice."
Polus' smile faded a little.
"Perhaps," he said.
"Or how about the safe house," said Finn, trying another route. "It's perfectly understandable if you're a little wary of returning to the city centre. Maybe the safe house is more suitable for you."
Finn glanced at Merk and winked.
Good, thought the old man. He was baiting him well..
"Wary?" repeated Polus. "Of returning to the city centre?"
"Yeah," shrugged Finn, emptying a spoonful of stew into his mouth. "It's fine to be scared of the place after fighting in the arena. I get it. I don't like it much either..."
"Scared!" scoffed Polus. "Now you're just being ridiculous."
Finn shrugged again and went quiet. The rest of the occupants of the table darted eyes from one to another. Even Cicero got in on the act.
"Is that what you all think?" continued Polus, noticing their gazes. Of course, he didn't need to ask. He could see it for himself. "Well, that's just absurd. I'm not frightened of Neorome. Nor anyone who resides within. There's not a soul there who could trouble me."
Another sly look slipped from Finn's eyes, seeking out Merk and then Gwyn.
"If you say so," the boy murmured. "I don't tend to believe something until I see it."
"See it? You don't believe it, boy?" came Polus voice. "I stole you three away from the woods easily enough. I locked down your bodies with nothing more than a thought. I can do the same to anyone, I say."
"Oh yes, very impressive," smirked Finn. His rapport with Polus was such that he could get away with such remarks. Though Merk still gave him a little kick under the table, reminding him to tow the line. "Um, but in all seriousness, I've heard the things you can do. Or...apparently do. It's hard to believe it for a simple kid like me."
"Not so simple, my boy," said Polus. "You're much more than you know."
Merk raised a brow. Finn was already quite impressive. To think he might have more to give was frightening.
It drew a second thought in the old sailor's head, though. Clearly, Polus had looked within him and glimpsed his true potential. It was rumoured that he could do more than just glimpse what lay inside a man, but draw it out too...
"Thanks for the word of support," smiled Finn. "But I'm still in awe of these rumours of what you can do." He set his eyes on Gwyn, seeking another voice. The conversation had become too insular and one sided on his part.
"Oh yeah, me too," said Gwyn, appearing from behind her wine cup with lips dripping red. "Merk's been telling us about these feats of yours in the Colosseum. Impossible if you ask me."
Polus turned to Merk.
"Yes, Atticus," he said with a grin. "You've been extolling my accomplishments have you?"
Finn and Gwyn shared a look, the latter looking at Merk and mouthing, "Atticus?"
"Long story," whispered Merk, before turning to Polus and addressing his query. "I have indeed," he said. "They're so mind-boggling that they've all but gone down in legend. Many people hardly believe them anymore. You can understand the youngsters' doubts."
Polus' eyes shifted a little.
"Doubts, you say?"
"Well, it seems like magic to some," said Merk. "I mean, just what you've done around here in the woods is enough. But in the arena, setting an entire force of gladiators on one another with nothing but a glance into their eyes? Locking people stiff in place so they can't even move? Forcing men to chop each other down without ever having to raise your sword? And then...no," he said, shaking his head. "Even I hardly believe this one."
Merk picked up his goblet, taking a pause to sip his wine. As his lips met the rim, they curled into a smile.
"What one?"
The question was the very one that Merk wished to hear.
He lowered his cup.
"Sorry?"
"You said you didn't believe one of my feats?" said Polus, his voice now dulling and lacking its usual buoyancy. "What feat exactly do you doubt?"
"Oh, no...not a feat. More an ability you were rumoured to have."
"And that is?"
"It's silly..."
"Try me."
Merk rolled his eyes.
"I mean, this could just be nonsense, I don't know...but apparently you're able to draw out someone's true potential." A short silence fell. "You see, ludicrous."
Merk spied Polus' expression. It was hard to trick a man who could read minds, but all those in on the act had been careful enough to pattern their thoughts correctly, and shield their eyes from any likely advances. Polus, too, had mentioned his distaste for reading minds in social situations. Merk had to assume he was mostly refraining.
Polus' eyes were a little wary. He was clearly aware that something was going on, and yet couldn't escape the lure. Cicero had been right. His pride was a weakness, and he needed to protect it.
"Not so ludicrous," he said. "It is a power I possess."
Merk performed a show of awe, leaning back as though needing space from Polus' great aura.
"It's not a rumour?!" he exclaimed, as the others looked on, similarly and, in some cases, genuinely amazed.
"It is the truth, Merk. But, I do suspect you knew that already. It's not something I've done much of, and not for a long time. But once...yes." He smiled. "Do you remember what they called me? One of my nicknames?"
Merk pretended to rack his memory. Really, the name had been on the tip of his tongue for hours. He made a series of noises before finally concluding with words.
"Ah yes, that's it. The Enhancer. That's what they called you."
"The Enhancer," repeated Gwyn. "As in, a person who enhances others?"
"I suppose so," laughed Polus. "It's a rare power, and one I've barely used. After all, when fighting other gladiators, it makes little sense to augment their gifts. But, there is a darker side to all of this." His voice, and face, fell into shadow. The table leaned forward and listened closely. Polus emptied his lungs and refilled them slowly. "My banishment from the city wasn't just because Vesper saw telepaths as threats. The truth of the matter is that she attempted to recruit me and force me to enhance her soldiers and Imperial Guard. I refused, of course, and she tried to have me killed..."
"She did?" asked Merk. "I thought you were merely exiled?"
"Well, technically that's how it started. Vesper wasn't as bad back then, ridiculous as that sounds given what she did. She initially just sent me away. Then, she came calling."
All eyes around the table were now unblinking. Aside, of course, from Cicero, who already knew it all.
"So...what happened?" whispered Gwyn.
"Ah, she forced me to do something I didn't want," sighed Polus. "Initially, I merely took up residence in a small town outside the city limits. My presence there was quickly discovered and that's when a force of assassins came to snuff me out. I refused their kind invite," he smiled. "And then I disappeared for real, finishing up here."
"So, what about Vesper?" asked Finn. "You don't want revenge against her?"
Polus nodded.
"For a long time, yes. I had plans, my boy, that I was all but ready to see to completion. But, life intervened, I suppose. I guess I grew comfortable here in my own presence. I learned to be alone, and live in peace. Cicero...well, I got a message to him to join me. Ever since, I've felt content."
"But no longer," said Finn, inspecting him. His sky blue eyes were bright against the
flickering firelight. They linked directly with Polus, his own eyes so magnificent and deep. "All of this...us coming here," Finn went on. "It's fate, Polus. It's fate for you, and for us. This isn't a chance meeting. This is an opportunity for you, for all of us, to get revenge. If you want to prove what you can do, then you only have one choice."
He stopped suddenly, letting the room fall silent. Merk could hardly breathe. The boy had taken up the reins, hurrying Polus towards a decision.
Slowly, Polus' chin, hidden behind a frosted-black forest of a beard, began to dip.
"And what choice is that?" he asked.
"To fight for the innocent," said Finn. "Or stay hidden out here, forgotten."
108
The city of Neorome was being gently assaulted by a light, early morning drizzle. The air was clear and cool, the humidity of the day yet to build. And the streets, shining under the morning blush, were quiet and peaceful, given some respite before the day began in earnest.
It was the second day of the quarter finals, and the arena was set to witness another great show. First, the enigmatic Jaeger would grace the sands once more, continuing his inexorable march towards the final. His opponent, Malvo, was considered to have no chance with the morning bookmakers.
The second fight was considered equally one-sided. Shadow, unrelenting, would surely dispatch Steelhide without trouble. Such was the Stalker's manner of combat, efficiently ending any contest as fast as he could, that it was considered likely that the same would happen again. Jaeger, given his desires to please the Empress, might draw out Malvo's suffering. Shadow, at least, wasn't cruel in his execution.
Dom rose that day feeling quite unlike the past few. Loaded once more with painkillers, he was ready to face the day's events with a firm and rousing plan of action in mind. Moving from his bedchambers, he first found Kira tucked up on one of the large sofas in the library, where she'd continued to take up residence. She was sleeping soundly, no doubt exhausted after all her mental, emotional, and physical exertions.
Dom watched her sleeping for a few moments, stealing away those precious seconds when he could gaze upon her without being seen. Her eyes missed nothing when awake, and Dom had to curb his natural desires to scan and study her beautiful features. From first seeing her, he'd been enamoured by her physical appearance. Those sleek, feline eyes and flowing red locks. The sweeping curve of her face and high cheekbones. The athletic, honed nature of her body, springing her around like a magnificent beast.
Yet her character was what had truly won him over. Her compassion for her friends. Her loyalty and honour. Her inbuilt and ingrained need to see the innocent saved, to free those shackled and chained. Day by day, she'd seemed to grow more committed to this cause that wasn't even hers. She'd come here a foreigner, a slave. And now here she was, staying put when she could so easily escape. Putting her life on the line, again and again, in the hope that she could defeat the evil and the darkness, like a great hero of old.
And a hero she was. Dom had met few others of her ilk.
He looked at her now as she slept, breathing gently, and decided that his feelings for her had marched on without restraint. Right to a point where he'd do just about anything to keep her safe. He'd realised yesterday, watching her fighting Tomahawk, just how much he cared. The thought of losing her, much as losing this city to the whims of a tyrant, was one he refused to let settle.
Slipping from the room, he found Claudius at his desk on the first floor, working through some papers.
"I'm heading off, Claud," he said. "If I'm not back by the time Malvo and Shadow need escorting to the arena, do the honours for me. I'll meet you there if so."
"Of course, sir. And you're sure Lucius will be at the baths?"
"It's his usual schedule to visit the baths each morning on a Wednesday," said Dom. "And I saw it in his eyes yesterday after Kira's victory. He'll be there, Claud. He wants me to come too."
Dom set off from there, weaving through the house, yard, compound, and across the city in an unmarked carriage. Several soldiers came with him, not mounted but dressed in cloaks and set inside the wagon alongside him. The aim was clear - to remain somewhat incognito. Though Dom considered himself safe enough in the city centre for now, and out of Lord Pontius' reach, he'd prefer for his presence at the baths to go unnoticed.
To that end, he arrived draped in black and with a cloak upon his head, shadowing his face. The rain was a blessing, making his rather grim appearance more understandable. He ordered for his men to park down the street, before walking the rest of the way. Arriving at the baths, still quiet at this time, he entered through the luxurious, marble-appointed central atrium and found himself under inspection from the head clerk.
"Excuse me, sir. You must sign in."
Dom had forgotten himself. Given his standing and highly recognisable face, he'd never had to sign in before. Usually, the clerk on duty would see him and write in his name without him ever having to slow his step.
He stopped in his tracks as he ventured towards the private saunas, and turned to face the clerk. The hallway was empty but for the two of them.
"Apologies, Liticus," said Dom. "I was just covering up from the rain."
He pulled away his hood as he spoke, revealing his curling brown hair and warm chocolate eyes.
The clerk, Liticus, did a quick double take, before dipping his chin into a bow of respect.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Prince Domitian. I didn't realise it was you."
"Well, perhaps you'd be so good as to forget you saw me too?" Dom said, stepping forwards a little. "I'd rather my presence here this morning went unnoticed and unreported. Don't add me to the register, Liticus."
The clerk seemed slightly unsure, but had no way to go but the one Dom was directing.
"Of course, my Prince. Anything his Highness desires."
"Good," smiled Dom. "Now tell me, is Master Lucius here?"
Liticus' finger worked down the directory in front of him, before stopping and tapping.
"Yes, he's here, my Prince. Would you like to know which room he's in?"
"If you don't mind."
"Sauna room 10," said Liticus.
Dom nodded and thanked the man, before moving off down the hall.
The warmth and steam began to build quite quickly as he went, descending a short flight of stairs before working towards the corridor flanked by a dozen different saunas. Each separate room and area was as beautifully embellished as the next, allowing the rich and powerful within the city to relax and sweat away the grime in opulent settings. It was a common occurrence for Dom to come here, purging his system of intoxicants and resetting himself for the coming days. Lucius was the same, and Wednesday morning was his regular slot.
Stopping outside room 10, Dom sped his eyes through the little window on the door. It was steamed and hard to see through, yet a shadow appeared within the mist, his midsection wrapped in a small, white towel and the remainder of his tanned body otherwise on show.
Dom drew a breath and entered, stopping in the doorway. The mist cleared a little, and he saw Lucius sat upon a bench, beads of sweat covering every inch of him.
"Good," Lucius said. "I hoped you'd come."
Dom stepped forward, the heat stifling. He removed his cloak and hung it on a hook beside the door, leaving him in a more suitable white tunic. Through the swirling mist he went, hurrying quickly to Lucius' side and taking position next to him on the bench. Before either men spoke again, Lucius picked up a large ladle, filled it with water, and emptied the contents over a bed of hot coals. Immediately, a hissing sounded and the fog grew, spilling out into the room and deepening their cover.
"We don't have much time," Lucius said, turning to Dom. "My father suspects something might be happening. Your escape wasn't as clean as it could have been."
"How so?" asked Dom.
"It was unnatural," replied Lucius. "The state you left the place in. All four guards, and Cranus, lying dead within metres of each other. All
seemingly killed by the same knife. It was an unlikely picture for a rescue, Dom. My father's eye is falling to me."
"Let it stay there. It'll be put out soon enough. If that's what you really want?"
"Me? Want my father dead and gone?" Lucius' gaze darkened. "I want nothing more, I promise you. The man has been dead to me for years. I'm more than happy to make it official."
Dom smiled.
"So, patricide and matricide," he said. "We destroy our parents and take their places. It's not the ideal start, is it?"
"A necessary start," said Lucius. "The city despises Vesper. They'll be glad to see her gone."
"And Pontius?"
"Is crafty," said Lucius, "and smarter than all of us. He still holds favour among the masses, and has been carefully building his position with the nobility. His coup will come soon, and he will take the crown. As my father's allies grow, so your mother's support dwindles. It seems inevitable."
"And yet you're against it," questioned Dom. "Your father would be Emperor, and you after him. Why betray him now?"
Dom peered into his old friend's hazel eyes, and saw only the man he once was. He looked right through to his thoughts, opened out to let Dom see. And in Lucius' mind, the blazing fires of hatred and anger ruled, an unquenchable inferno aimed at his father, growing and never relenting as the years passed by.
For all the troubles Dom and Lucius had seen, nothing compared to Lucius' hidden hatred for Pontius. For what he'd made him do, not only in killing the girl he loved, but the years of dominance that came after. Pontius had fashioned his son into a tool, one for him to use in his pursuit of power. The richest man in Neorome was cruel beyond measure. Only in Vesper did he have a rival.
Lucius didn't need to answer, but he did so anyway. His words trickled out, dark and intense, but kept to only a few. And with them, Dom knew beyond all doubt that the two were aligned. He laid his hand upon Lucius' sweat-ridden shoulder and nodded.
"OK, brother," said Dom. "Now the question stands - where do we go from here?"
The two men entered into a quick discussion, Dom telling him of the conversation with Kira and Claudius the previous night, and the conclusions they'd drawn about how to take Vesper out. As he spoke, Dom stopped and went silent. Thoughts of Kira flooded his mind.