by T. C. Edge
Mostly, it seemed that the people were coming from the city, and not heading towards it. Merk mentioned that it was no doubt a symptom of the uprising in Southside. Those living in any of the affected areas were sure to seek residency elsewhere while the problems continued. Anyone with family or friends in safer parts, or a bit of money tucked away to pay for short term accommodation, would surely be seeking refuge at a time like this.
The sight appeared to have an impact upon Polus, the flow of refugees making clear the perils the innocent people of the city were facing. He'd heard of the reports from Cicero, of course, and now from Merk and the others. But seeing it with his own eyes was a different matter, and the nearer they drew to the city, with its outer suburbs now visible in the distance whenever they reached the crest of a hill, the firmer his expression grew.
Merk looked at him regularly, seeing the change in his eye. He witnessed the man's resolve take shape, his countenance hardening and the shadow of anger building upon it. No longer was he delaying his return. His step quickened now, and the doubts were expelled. He was marching towards the city in need, the city that he once called his home.
He was marching forward to help.
And when the light faded once more, and the sparkling lights of Neorome began to build on the black horizon, no further breaks were taken. No further delays were tolerated. With Polus at the head of the troop, they surged onwards with a growing haste. And the slow clock of Polus, the gradual pace of time he had so long enjoyed, returned to its normal state once more.
The city was a rush, and time was short.
The great telepath had returned.
110
The second two quarter finals had gone as Kira had feared. The gladiators within the ludus were now numbering just three. Malvo had put up a good fight, or so Dom said. He'd battled for longer than anyone would have expected, though Kira knew the real reason - Jaeger was a showman, and intended only to please the Empress. If their fight lasted any time at all, it was because Jaeger deemed it right.
The other bout had seen Shadow ease to victory in a different manner. His opponent was Steelhide, the man who'd defeated Lee in the previous round. He was no match for the Stalker, and hadn't lasted more than a minute against him. Shadow, efficient as always, had opened with a violent flurry of attacks that swiftly battered Steelhide into submission. As Dom told Kira that Wednesday night, the crowd booed his victory, wishing to be entertained. Shadow had little interest in such things. He was here to kill, and nothing else.
And now, it was Kira in his sights.
It was Thursday evening, and Dom sat with Kira up in his private office, hidden away at the summit of the villa where their voices couldn't be heard. Upon the desk, plans had been written out and discussed, with Claudius an important part of the conversation. A map of the streets, leading from the palace and towards the arena, told of the route Empress Vesper's carriage would take the following day. And several areas were marked red, telling of the positions Dom's and Lucius' mercenaries would take up.
Kira had been included in the plans for her expertise in operating in such clandestine conditions, though she wouldn't play an active part. Her role had become that of advisor, another pair of eyes. She had, of course, tried to persuade Dom to let her join the mercenaries and be the very one to strike down his mother.
"Nothing would give me more pleasure," she purred. "If the diversion is enough, I can sneak in and do it. You shouldn't waste me, Dom."
Dom had only very briefly considered it, before shutting her down. After all, for everything to go without a hiccup, the ruse needed to be maintained. For Kira's part, that meant taking her to the cells and acting as though the games would go ahead. She'd be forced to sit down there and wait, just twiddling her thumbs and hoping that the strike against Vesper went to plan. It wasn't a role she was comfortable with, but one she had to accept.
Instead, she helped where she could in planning the assault. Claudius had managed to gather several dozen strong mercenaries, sneaking them over from Southside with false identities and tickets for the games to deepen their cover. Dressed as common folk, they'd find stocks of weapons, left by Dom's most loyal guards, in a private storeroom near to the arena. Lucius' mercenaries had been similarly instructed and brought into the city centre, his family's wealth, as with Dom's, giving him almost bottomless resources to plan the attack and ensure no word of it got out. A single mercenary, not suitably rewarded, could be the plot's downfall.
The matter of Pontius' involvement remained of interest to Kira. This was a man who'd captured Dom for information and, then, to have him killed. She found it quite odd that he'd sign off on such a plan, so hastily arranged and put into motion as it was.
"Lucius has powerful methods of persuasion," Dom assured her. "His father is mostly very capable of blocking any sort of mental manipulation, but subtle hints and suggestions can get through. As far as Pontius knows, this plan is all them, and I'm not involved at all. He might get suspicious otherwise, and know that Lucius and I have been working together."
Kira frowned.
"But what will happen when all your mercenaries start attacking and causing this panic? Surely he'll know that they're not his?"
"Well, possibly. But Pontius won't be present, and Lucius has been managing this affair himself, so his father may not be wise to the exact numbers of mercenaries used. In any case, if things go to plan, Pontius will be killed just after my mother. So it shouldn't matter."
"If is a worrisome word, Dom," murmured Kira. "It seems you're putting all your eggs into one basket here. It's a bit rushed, isn't it?"
"Through necessity, yes," said Dom firmly. "If it doesn't go down tomorrow before the games, you'll be back out onto the sand. I'm not having that, Kira. It has to happen now. We have no option but to go ahead."
"I guess so. And, it makes sense for you, given your imminent exile and all that. But, it seems odd that Pontius would agree to it? He's been working for a long time to destabilise your mother, and could keep doing what he's doing in Southside, spreading the trouble until his opportunity comes. Why would he agree to this?"
"As I said, Lucius can be persuasive. And all the mercenaries they use will be set with orders to commit suicide if they're captured for questioning. There's no risk of fallout, even if they fail."
"Jeez. Suicide? They'd do that? Must be paying them a lot."
"Lucius' family are the richest in the city, so they've got money to burn. But, I suspect Lucius will be setting orders into their heads too, just to make sure."
"So, forced suicide? Against their will?" questioned Kira, shaking her head.
"It's a back up only. Mercenaries are hired guns. Pay them enough, and they'll be willing to die for the reward. But the point is, there's no way of linking this back to Pontius, and again, it's risk reward. From his point of view, if Vesper's killed tomorrow, then he can sweep right into the void ahead of time. He just doesn't realise that Lucius will get to him first."
"You hope."
Dom set his eyes on Kira. They were resolute, unwavering.
"I know," he stated with absolute finality. "Lucius has saved us both. He deserves your trust now. He's earned it."
His words were powerful, and sufficient. Kira nodded, and the issue was put to bed.
And soon after, so was she.
As the night crept on, and Dom sat at his desk, and Kira tried to sleep on her large sofa in the library, several miles away a small group were stumbling back into the safe house, exhausted.
They'd marched on for hours under the cover of night now, slipping quietly back down the passage through the thicket of trees and bushes at the edge of the city, entering into the garage, and passing back up through the house and into the sitting room. There, they fell into the sofas, dust coughed up and swirling into a light mist as Merk, despite feeling so very tired, set about gathering some refreshments.
"Wine," he said. "I think we all need some wine."
He returned from
the cellar a few minutes later with a couple of bottles and five goblets on a tray. He poured out a large glass each and they quickly took them up. It was Merk who made the toast. Though he wasn't the most powerful of the group, nor the smartest, he was most certainly the oldest. And, this had all been his plan after all. He felt a rather strong sense of pride at having completed his mission.
"Here's to a successful and, mostly, smooth journey," he grinned, raising his cup and drawing a yellow smile.
The others did the same. Goblets clunked. Wine was drunk and sighs delivered to the room.
And then, Finn was right back on his feet.
"OK, old timers. I know you're tired, and need your rest, but we can't delay. We have the final leg to cover back to the villa. And, well, it's not the nicest."
Merk shuddered at the thought. The path through the subterranean passage was a torturous affair and one he never hoped to tread again. He was still sporting bruises and cuts from the trip that refused to properly heal, and often woke in the night with a firm stab of pain to his neck or lower back, caused by all the stooping and bending that just wasn't natural to a man of such years.
He sank into his armchair and chose not to speak. Though Merk wished quite fervently to see Dom and Kira again, and find out just what had been happening, he needed a break, and sensed the rest did too. He would let someone else fight this battle against the increasingly vocal and pushy blue-eyed boy.
Cicero was on hand, of course, to venture his opinion.
"I think we all appreciate your passion, Finn. But we've been trekking all day, and need to rest for a while. If Polus is to be of any aid to your cause, in any capacity at all, he'll need to be properly rested and energised. As I'm sure you know with your own powers, when you're fatigued they just don't work as they should. Now, settle in and catch some sleep, young man. The city of Neorome and its troubles are not going anywhere fast."
"But this isn't about the troubles!" said Finn, rather sharply. "At least, not only. We need to get there and help Kira. What if she's fighting tomorrow? What if Polus can enhance her, like he said? He might be able to save her life. We can't just sit here when we're so close."
His voice rang around the room, and his eyes went for Polus, pleading.
The telepath looked at him for a long moment, and then took a breath of dusty air.
"Cicero is correct regarding my powers, particularly those I rarely employ. I want to help your friend, Finn, I truly do. But I agree that we need to rest first. How about we settle in for a few hours, OK? Even if your friend Kira is fighting tomorrow, I will not be able to help her. I need to recover first, and enhancing an individual takes time, if it's possible at all, which it isn't with everyone. I will need to stretch muscles I haven't used in years. It isn't a process that happens in an instant. So, really, there's no great rush."
"There is a great rush," countered Finn, though largely without thinking. "We need to know what's happening. I need to know."
"Then by all means, go ahead," said Polus. "We are safely back here now. We can follow through the tunnel tomorrow morning, if that's what you desire. But I caution against it. Unless you feel you can provide aid, you need to balance your emotions and think about this logically. We are on the same team here. And you're no good to anyone without your gifts. Now, you're an adult, and can do as you wish. But here, we must rest and recover before setting off. I would prefer you stay with us, and celebrate this small victory of ours together. Alas, it is up to you."
Polus smiled a soft, warm and inviting smile, his teeth white against his dark, frosted beard and keen penetrating eyes. Finn was caught in his gaze, only briefly, and seemed to quickly relax, as though a sedative had suddenly taken a grip in his blood. The strain in his eyes fell away, and set jaw relaxed. He moved back towards the sofa, sitting down beside Gwyn, and picked up his cup of wine.
"You're right," he said, his voice calm. "I'll stay a little while. We can head off soon."
His eyes began to droop, his chin falling forward, and the cup in his hand threatened to topple. Before it could, Gwyn snatched it up and set it back to the table, just as the boy's head fell off and rested against her shoulder, a light snoring quickly pressing through his nostrils.
All eyes turned to Polus.
"Did you..." started Gwyn.
The telepath smiled, and shrugged.
"It's for his own good."
111
It wasn't normal for Oom to be nervous.
For a monster of a man like him, dominating his territory in the mountains where he dwelled, there was nothing for him to fear. No beast or man had ever opposed him. He was at the top of the food chain, the biggest fish in the pond.
Now, here in Neorome, he'd been tossed into the ocean. And today, he was facing a shark.
Or so he thought.
In the dungeons beneath the arena, the gladiators had been put into their own cells. Shadow had been deposited by Dom way down the corridor, about as far from Kira as he could manage. Oom, meanwhile, was right there beside her, stowed in the next cell. They were blocked by a wall, but could talk. And for the first time, Kira could hear fear in her giant friend's voice.
"This Jaeger," he said. "Do you believe he is as they say?"
"And what do they say?" asked Kira softly.
"Unbeatable," murmured the titan, his voice echoing through the cavernous dungeon. "He is here by choice. No one can defeat him."
"No one's unbeatable, Oom. That's something I've learned over the years."
"Maybe Shadow could," continued Oom. "Maybe..."
"Maybe Oom," said Kira. "I believe in Oom. And remember, Oom always believes in himself. If you don't believe in yourself, you've lost already."
Kira threw his own wisdom back at him, words that he'd used to help her before. Yet she heard only a weak reply, not the forceful, firm belief that the giant always held for himself. He had heard the rumours and reports. He knew what he was facing. And after being quite badly wounded in his quarter final, his confidence had waned.
Yet Kira knew something Oom didn't. She knew that, above her right now, out on the streets, dozens of mercenaries and assassins were preparing an attack. That the Empress was set to be killed, and the games subsequently abandoned. That the two semi finals would never take place, and the combatants would be freed from their bonds and returned to their homes without ever having to step foot again upon the hallowed sand.
She knew it all, but could say nothing. Much as she wanted to assuage Oom's fears, she had to stay silent. And sit there, in hope.
"What about you?" came his voice, sweeping back around the cell wall towards her. "Does Kira believe? Does she believe she will defeat Shadow?"
Kira's pulse rose several notches. A sudden sweat covered her palms.
"I believe," she said softly.
But I hope I don't have to...
Dom stood outside of the royal balcony within the outer perimeter passage of the arena. Out of one of the large stone windows, he gazed down upon the sprawling crowd, gathering outside of the Colosseum. Those with tickets were slowly being ushered inside, arriving early to enjoy the grand build-up. Those without were setting into the best positions to watch the upcoming action upon the gigantic screens affixed to the arena's external walls.
The atmosphere was abuzz with excitement. There was a febrile energy spreading through the blur of people below, thousands of voices chattering and debating in rampant, animated tones. They had seen the gladiators arriving not long ago, the early arrivals desperate to witness their favourites up close. And now they were waiting, readying for the arrivals of other luminaries as the stream of ornate carriages worked down the main street, coming from the residences of the rich and powerful.
The gallery was starting to swell too, though Dom would not leave his perch. His eyes were set to the crowd, searching for the men under his charge. Such was the scale of the throng below that they were difficult to spot, blended in with their common robes and only visible to Dom due t
o his knowledge of the plot and their starting positions.
He was alone, and had been busy at work since his arrival. Right below where he stood now, a large cordon of armoured soldiers gave entry into the entry area for the nobility and those with VIP status. It would be where his mother's carriage would be brought, rushed right here when the attack began. Once she'd passed a certain point, it would be the only course of action, the arena becoming her refuge. Yet the guards here, most of them at least, were no longer under her command. Though they didn't know it, they had secret orders in their minds to attack her when her carriage came near.
She believed them her protectors. They were anything but.
Dom and Lucius had seen to that, doing the rounds that morning and speaking to the soldiers. They did so separately, so as to give themselves two bites at the cherry with any soldiers who might be harder to manipulate. One by one, they'd wandered past the many guards on duty, shaken their hands, spoken to them a little and thanked them for their service. And all the while, they were slipping secret orders into their minds, manipulating them to strike Vesper at a certain point when her carriage crossed their path.
The men knew nothing of the orders, of course. They were hidden, and would only go active under a certain set of conditions. The two young telepaths were so skilled and gifted in their task that they'd managed to insert their commands into the heads of the vast majority of the dozens of guards below. Only the rare few with natural blocks to their telepathy were left out of the party.
Yet they had enough. Plenty to do the job.
And now, Dom stood and waited, his heart beginning to race. He felt confident in the plan. Looking down, he could imagine it playing out. The flanking attack of the mercenaries, pouring forwards on both sides, drawing the eyes of the Imperial Guard and engaging them in the fight. Ares would stay with Vesper, no doubt, assessing the risk and immediately determining that they needed to make for the stadium.