The Warrior Race Trilogy BoxSet

by T. C. Edge

  Passing under the archway towards the balcony, he turned his eyes to the waiting nobles. All had shaped their brows into deep frowns, knowing it's what the Empress will have wanted. He glanced at Lucius, who did the same, holding that artificial sneer in place.

  Dom smiled to himself.

  Good, he thought. Keep it up, for just a little longer.

  He was led to his usual seat, and planted down, the Empress yet to arrive. The guards stepped back, leaving Dom to gaze down upon the sand, cleaned of blood and shining under the sun. He imagined Kira in the cells, awaiting her doom, like she had so many times before. And he thought of the previous night, of the time they'd had, of the stolen joy they'd shared.

  And with such thoughts, his pain intensified. Vesper had done her job well. She knew her son.

  She'd ripped out his heart.

  A hand came down upon his shoulder, and Dom turned to see Lucius beside him. He did so often, and always came with some arrogant remark, some conceited comment, trying to get under Dom's skin and into his head.

  The sneer he brought too on all such occasions remained steadfast, at least until he leaned down, shielding his face from all those who could see. Immediately, his eyes turned, showing his distress, and his voice came out a grieving whisper.

  "I'm so sorry, Dom. I don't know what to do. I'm going to try to get you out. I'm going..."

  "To do nothing, Lucius," said Dom. "You're going to do nothing." He smiled, his voice calm. "This was always the risk. I accept that. But I won't have you getting caught too. Promise me you'll do nothing but your expected duty. And when I'm executed, you'll be there to watch. Promise me, Lucius," he whispered.

  Lucius shut his eyes, and nodded slowly.

  "I promise, Dom. I'll finish it for you. I'll finish them all."

  It was all Dom wanted to hear.

  Before Lucius stepped away, regaining his composure and returning his sneer, he looked down at the sand.

  "I tried to affect Jaeger's mind," he said. "To give Kira a chance. But he's too strong willed. If I had more time, maybe I could, but..." He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

  "It's OK, Lucius. You've done everything you could, far more than I could ever have hoped for, or deserve. I should be the one apologising. For...the past."

  "No. The past is the past. We've both done things we regret."

  The two men shared a final look, one of friendship, of brotherhood, of a pact made many years before. Their lives had taken them on different paths, but they'd crossed again at this time, at this moment.

  And while Lucius' was set to go on, Dom's road was about to end.

  Forgetting his manufactured hate, and carefully built character, Lucius reached out and took Dom's hand. He squeezed it firmly, and blinked away a tear.

  "Goodbye, my brother," he said, gripping tight.

  And then he turned, lifting his sneer, and marched arrogantly back to his seat.

  The stadium wasn't completely full, as it hadn't been for some time. Though busier than during the semi finals, when so many were frightened off by the dramatics outside, it was more sparsely populated than any other day. The finals were usually joyous, the most anticipated day of the year.

  But this year, things had changed.

  It gave Dom some hope that people were, despite what he saw outside, still fading from the Empress' grasp. That it wasn't only Southside facing up to her, but other parts of the city too, the swell telling of a sea change, of a coming tide that Vesper wouldn't be able to hold back.

  It would sweep her away, whether Pontius saw to it or not. Someday, someone else would step into the breach. She'd made too many enemies now to avoid it.

  Yet, this was a day of triumph for her, and so said her face when she entered the gallery. Her short, plump frame was adorned in the finest of silken robes, contrasting so vividly with her son. Her smile did the same, and the eerie joy spreading through her was a horrid, detestable thing.

  She raised her arms and some portions of the crowd cheered, just as they'd jeered outside. Then she turned to Dom and perused him.

  "Oh, what a nasty job Ares did," she remarked. "You see how the body copes without any healing lotions and drugs? You look an absolute sight, Domitian."

  Ares, by her side, dipped his eyes. Dom only shook his head and turned away, waiting for his mother to move on.

  He could sense her staring at him for a few moments, before she stood once more and drew the attention of the throng. Her voice lifted and rang out, spreading through the sudden silence.

  "Good afternoon, Neorome, and what a treat we have today!" She smiled at the muted cheers, waiting for them to lift a little louder before quelling them with a raised palm. "Before we witness the crowning of our new champion, however, I have another treat for you all. You may have already heard, but I'd like you all to meet him."

  She turned, and from the shadows one of her head maids came, carrying a bundle of blankets, and a newborn baby within.

  Vesper took up her son, cradling him gently. A strange softness worked into her as she looked at him. Then she lifted him above her head.

  "Please, give a warm welcome to my new son and heir, Julius!"

  The crowd cheered again on demand, and it became obvious to Dom that there were plants out there, ensuring no silence ever settled during these moments of triumph. The rest of the people joined in, applauding politely and creating a general din. It seemed enough for Vesper, who handed Julius back to the carer before he could start to wail.

  The noise fell away again, and Vesper stretched her hand out to Dom.

  "We all now know what Domitian did. I call him only by his name, and do not use his title. He is no longer a Prince of Neorome. He is a criminal and traitor to the throne, and leaves me with no choice but to punish him accordingly."

  She turned to look at Dom, shaking her head animatedly so all the crowd could see.

  "For a long time, I have tried to conceal the truth of what Domitian really is. He is a creature of vice and base desires. He was never a suitable prince for this realm, ever denying his responsibilities. He has fraternised with his slaves, indulging his warped fantasies. And now, one of the very fighters set to compete in the final has been soiled by his demands."

  She shook her head again, frowning. Her horrible face filled the screens across the stadium, across the city.

  "The Red Warrior has been taken into your hearts. I must admit, I had my doubts about her at first, but she has proven me wrong. The poor girl was only acting by the consent and demands of Domitian, who forced himself upon her whenever he had a chance. When you think of him, think only of this man as he appears before us, beaten and bruised, dressed in his rags. That is the status he deserves. He will be resigned to the footnotes of history, a rotten mistake upon my name. He will pay for he's done, and what he is." She looked at Dom with a face of contempt. "He is no son of mine."

  Her words swelled as they came, filling the air and leaving a residue of ringing silence. Dom sat, only saddened by her words, but nothing more. He knew, one day, the pages of history would tell a different story. That Lucius would restore his good name. That the people, even now, would see through her lies, and take this speech of hers for the slander it was.

  She was a piece of work, even speaking highly of Kira in an attempt to degrade her son's name. In the end, her spat with Kira was a sideshow, and easily forgotten. Yet a besmirching of Dom might endure. And Dom could see the pleasure it gave her.

  He wondered, as he had now many times, how things had degenerated so quickly between them. For a long time, their relationship had been rocky and mired in a mutual distrust. Only now, in the last days and weeks, had it reached the edge of a cliff, and gone plummeting down the side.

  And as he looked at her, watching the demon within take further possession of her body and mind and soul, he heard her speaking out once more, now turning to bring out the combatants.

  His eyes fell to the gate.

  And for the last time, he saw Kira st
ep out.

  120

  Kira's ire had swelled with every word she heard.

  She'd stood beyond the gate in the tunnel, fuming as Vesper spat out her bullshit, defaming Dom's name and dismantling his character.

  Her lies spread like a virus, slithering like snakes from her filthy lips. She'd even used Kira to further her assassination, bending and breaking the truth apart with her sordid fabrications.

  Kira listened from the shade, her chest heaving in rage. Behind her, several guards stood with spears to her back, waiting to force her out onto the sand. They didn't need to. Not today. There was a violence in her, waiting to explode.

  She'd put the record straight herself.

  So when the gates opened, she marched immediately out into the light without hesitation, hurrying to the sand and calling out to the people.

  "Vesper lies to you all!" she shouted, her voice ringing. "Dom never forced himself on me. He would never do such a thing. He is a good man, a brave man, a prince you should be proud of." She turned to Vesper, pointing right at her. "It is that witch who deserves your scorn!"

  As Kira spoke, her voice clattering around the stadium, she didn't hear the hurrying feet rushing up to her. Several guards poured from the gates, gathering her up again and laying strong hands over her mouth. Her voice was muted, but she'd said her piece. She'd defied the Empress one final time.

  And damn it felt good.

  She didn't struggle in the grasp of the men. She let them haul her to her rightful place, her feet trailing off the ground, as Vesper stood again and let her voice ring out. She was surprisingly calm. Annoyingly so, in fact.

  "Dear oh dear," she laughed, "what a tragic story. This poor girl has been so brainwashed by Domitian she doesn't know what he really is."

  Among the stands, her supporters laughed too, though Kira merely glowered at the irony of it all. This was a woman who lived off of brainwashing, publicly accusing her son of doing the same. Perhaps some, even many, of the people could see it. Then again, perhaps not...

  For a moment, the hands stayed covering Kira's lips as Vesper moved on to introduce her opponent. With Jaeger's entrance, himself a popular combatant like Kira, the roars of the crowd grew, and Kira's muffles were hidden. The hands slid away from her mouth, and a fierce whisper growled into her ear.

  "Now stay silent," said a guard. "Speak again and we won't be so gentle."

  Kira thought it a rather empty threat. She was about to enter a fight to the death against a man considered by many to be unbeatable. There was little more they could say to her to cause her to tremble.

  Still, she obeyed anyway, her piece already said. She needed to maintain her energy, and channel it properly. She turned to Jaeger as he came, holding onto her anger and wrath like a grenade set to be unleashed. He sauntered out, raising his arms aloft, his appearance so unremarkable and incongruous for someone so formidable.

  He lived right up to the old mantra, appearances can be deceiving.

  He had a variety of weapons attached to his flanks and back: two lightweight swords on either side, an axe on his back, a dagger fixed to a sheath on his thigh, a number of smaller throwing knives attached to his rear belt. It was as though he wished to use them all at some stage, give the crowd a show. And with such weapons, he'd trained all his life. He was a master of each, Kira just a novice by comparison.

  He ventured towards her, dressed in his dark grey armour, obeying the customs as he arrived in position, bowing to the Empress in a perfect pose. The crowd applauded his every move, now sure to be divided in their support. It was something Kira had relied on so far, an intangible asset, helping her from the shadows as she heard her name chanted and sung. Today, both fighters would be cheered. It wasn't an advantage Kira could rely on.

  But she didn't care. In fact, she felt looser and more ready than ever, despite the challenge awaiting her. She was fully cognisant of the fact that, even were she to somehow win, it was game over, just as it had been ever since she came here and defied Vesper for the very first time.

  Her victory wouldn't be a ticket home. She'd be killed anyway, whatever Ares had told her. Her defiance had made sure of that, as had her feelings for Dom. Vesper couldn't allow a threat like her to be released, an assassin of such esteem. Whether in days, weeks, months or years, Kira would one day return to finish the job. Vesper would never be able to sleep soundly with her out there, just waiting for a time to strike.

  So she turned and looked at Jaeger, a snarl on her face. She found his own countenance typically calm, his emotional ties to all of this rather less strained than hers. His desires were simple: to win the favour of the Empress, and enter her Imperial Guard. It had been his wish since he was young, and he'd set about the task in a professional and efficient manner.

  Even now, looking at her, he made clear his intentions.

  "Let me just say one thing," he said, "before we begin. I have been impressed with you, Kira, and the way in which you've conducted yourself here. It is a fine talent to continue to overcome challenges thought too much for one to hurdle. You deserve, and have earned, my respect." He dipped his head to her. Then his eyes flattened out, and his features fell into shadow. "However, I'm afraid I represent a challenge too far. I must kill you now, in order to fulfil my destiny. I am a servant of the Empress, and the seat she represents. I must make her proud this day. For what will follow, I apologise."

  Once more, his face drew into the light, and he lowered his chin into a respectful nod.

  Kira stared back, half thankful for his honesty and odd courtesy, half enraged by his firm statement that she had no chance to win. It was the latter that won out, and her rage continued to grow.

  She drew back her lips and stared right at him.

  "Bring it on," she said with a growl.

  The start of the fight was a percussive blast of pent up energy and frustration. Of exploding rage and unquenchable hate. Of a never-ending need, and instinct, to fight even in the face of insurmountable odds.

  For Kira, the term insurmountable had taken on a new meaning. She'd faced impossible odds again and again and kept on coming out on top. Both here and back home in Haven, she'd lived on the edge, facing death almost daily, ever running and hiding from the spectre that would never end the hunt. She was facing a losing battle, that she fully knew. Yet she had some power, at least, to decide when she'd meet her fate, to influence the manner of her end with the use of her speed and senses, and the indomitable will that lived strong within her.

  Now, as she faced Jaeger before the masses of Neorome, she pulled the pin on the rage-grenade in her hand and let it explode between them. She drew her scimitars and continued where she'd left off with Shadow, tapping into some deep pool of emotion that so few others could ever find.

  Her life had seen so much loss, so much pain. She'd bottled her feelings up tight, sunk them down deep where they could never surface. But now she unearthed them, opening the bottle, letting it all flow out one final time.

  It was as though she had another level to her, every gift she possessed seeming to heighten and expand. She moved quicker than she'd ever imagined she could. She could see further, faster, noting every individual movement among the churning throng surrounding her. Her ears took on a new power, the voices clearer, the sounds of the Colosseum a deafening roar that she knew she could control. And up her nose, a thousand scents spread, each one easily identifiable and unique.

  She had changed, attaining a state that few could ever achieve. Her full potential had been unleashed, like a caterpillar breaking free of its chrysalis and flying skyward as a beautiful butterfly.

  Swirling into a clanging, raucous cloud of dust and glinting metal, Kira and Jaeger used up every inch of space within the arena. They zipped and darted, merging into a furious ball of energy as their blades met only each other, defence and attack equally matched, their skill and precision remarkable.

  The people watched, almost unbelieving, wondering how long it had been since they
'd seen a contest like this. The initial exchanges went on for several long minutes, neither fighter giving an inch. Only when they worked back to the centre of the arena did the two combatants slow to a stop, the sand settling, and face each other once more.

  Kira's lungs were working hard, her breath filling and spilling in quick bursts. She looked right at Jaeger and saw the sweat building on his brow, his own chest rising and falling almost as quickly as hers.

  He had a fire lit in his eyes, one of joy and utter delight.

  "Wow," he said. "I did not expect this. Who is this girl? What has happened to you?"

  Kira glared, not wishing for the distraction.

  "I've woken up," she said. "This is the real me."

  Jaeger cocked his head to one side.

  "Oh, is that so? Well, please let me introduce the real Jaeger then."

  His eyes darkened, fading almost black. A swell of energy seemed to gather to him, pulling from all sides of the arena. A gentle shaking rumbled through the earth. Kira watched on, her doubts trying to return. She was giving her all. Was this just the start for him?

  Suddenly, the shaking stopped, and Jaeger's face built into a smile.

  "Shall we go again?" he asked.

  His confidence gave Kira pause. She hesitated for just a second, but had no other option but to advance. And when she rushed, pressing forwards again with all her speed, she found a different opponent awaiting her.

  No matter what she did, she swiftly realised...she was doomed.

  "Are you watching closely, Domitian? Are you watching her die?"

  Vesper's words slithered Dom's way. She was staring right at him, more interested in his reaction than the fight. For a time it looked like Kira could compete. She'd raised her power levels to a point Dom hadn't yet seen, the two appearing so well matched, Kira perhaps even having the edge.

  But now, Jaeger was displaying his true colours, the full extent of his might. He had reserves to give that were deeper than Dom had known, his power signature rising so high he could feel the pulses from where he sat. So far, Jaeger's tournament had been a stroll, all his bouts, even that with Oom, requiring little effort on his part. Now, he'd been at least forced to step to the next level. And Kira's death was imminent.