by T. C. Edge
16
That first full day in Neorome was long and arduous in a way Kira wasn’t used to. It was the heat, mostly, that she struggled with. The morning seemed bad enough, but as the day progressed into afternoon, she began to fear that she might pass out from heatstroke of dehydration.
Rufus, taking them through their paces, appeared very aware of their struggles, though refused to relieve them. There was a water station in one corner, just like in the cell below, but any time a trainee tried to get near it, his whip would quickly force them to withdraw.
Only at certain points did he allow them to take on any liquid, informing them that what he was doing was for their own good.
“In the Colosseum, fights can last for quite some time, and have been known to go for hours. There’s no water there, no shade, no place for you to take a break or hide. You have been in combat. You have fought in wars. But you haven’t yet been in the arena. You must learn to retain your faculties while under duress.”
Another issue was the simple fact that Kira hadn’t yet washed since she was taken, and was still wearing the same clothes. Down in the cell, there was a washing area past one of the arches, hidden behind a flimsy curtain that Kira knew would do little to spare her blushes, not that that was any concern of hers right now.
The little shower, however, wasn’t currently working, and so no one had been able to clean themselves or their clothes. It only served to add to the weight of their garments, and the hot, sticky grime that had accumulated on their skin. When someone tried to remove his shirt, desperate to drop the weight and escape some of the heat, Rufus was once more quick with the lash.
“You will wear the same clothes all day,” he shouted out. “No one shed a thing. In the arena, you’ll quickly grow dirty and sandy and covered in sweat. And you’ll be wearing combat robes, and leather or metal armour depending on the bout. Along with your weaponry, you’ll be heavily weighed down. What you’re experiencing now is nothing compared to what you’ll face out there.”
This went on for some time as he put them through their paces. Even Shadow, whom Kira thought might simply ignore Rufus’ orders, decided to follow them closely. Clearly, he’d realised that the only way of getting back to his true master was by achieving victory. And, if he didn’t, then at least he might be able to kill Kira, a rebel, when he got a chance.
If that was how he was thinking, Kira could happily relate. Her ambitions were exactly the same.
She did get some minor enjoyment, however, from the fact that he was wearing his black cloak, material that must have been simply stifling under the burning sun. Yet, if he was suffering, his expression wasn’t giving anything away. It remained blank, cold, and utterly detached. It was one Kira was used to seeing on men like him.
For the early part of the day, Rufus’ primary goal seemed to be to push them to their physical limits after days in captivity. He had them running, climbing, lifting heavy loads of wood, and doing all manner of endurance work that was designed to empty their tanks Back and forth, on and on, until the trainees dropped to their knees and sent the sparse contents of their stomachs to the sand.
And when they did, the whip would merely come out once more, crack into the humid air, and have them scurrying back to work.
Occasionally, Kira noticed Dom appear on the balcony, watching down from above. He’d stand there, clean and fresh, with a fine golden goblet in one hand and some delicious looking piece of fruit in the other. If Kira’s mind hadn’t been turned to mush, she’d have probably noted that he did it to further spur them on, his effort a collaborative one with his instructor.
But, Kira didn’t see it like that. She just glared daggers at him, and wished that she had one of those throwing knives back in her hand so she could fling it right into his smug, irritatingly handsome face.
Only when the afternoon was reaching its zenith did the searing heat begin to relent. By that point, Kira’s senses had dulled to the point of being almost useless, and the same seemed to befall the rest. With Dom once again on the balcony, they were forced to line up, close to dehydration, body temperatures dangerous high, stinking and tired and with heaving chests and racing hearts.
He pointed his finger from one to the next, just as he did that morning, and this time went through them all. Each of them had to try to display their power, and each of them struggled.
Oom’s pace, running around the yard, was slow, his power gone when he tried to punch through an oak figure. Finn couldn’t muster the concentration to do much more than make the sands flutter like they were caught in a light breeze. The wall-climber christened as Gecko was back to how he was the previous night, scrambling weakly up the wall and failing miserably. Even Shadow, so calm and poised for most of the day, felt the sting of Rufus’ whip without the energy to avoid it.
When it came to Kira’s turn, Rufus presented her with a throwing knife and stood towards the other side of the square. He invited her to throw it at him and punish him for how he’d treated them that day. She glanced at the other prisoners, who’d taken on a new light for her. It was as if there was a minor bond between them, forged by their mutual woes.
“Come on now, Kira, cut me through,” goaded Rufus with a big white smile. “We saw what you did earlier with those pigeons. Come on, I’m a big enough target. Look, I’ll make it easy for you.”
He turned around, presenting Kira his back. She glanced to the many guards still on duty around her, and then up to Dom, who watched with an amused smile.
“Go ahead,” he said to her, making a nonchalant gesture with his hands. “Nothing will happen to you if you hit.”
She steadied her eyes on Rufus, blinking the sweat away as it poured from her now sodden red hair. The middle of the back, right between the shoulder blades. That would be a good place…
She took a long breath, aimed, and hurled the knife without really considering the consequences. In the end, she didn’t have to.
It wasn’t actually the worst throw. It had decent pace and direction, though certainly wasn’t going exactly for its mark. However, Rufus clearly had a similar set of augmented senses as she did, hearing the blade coming, sensing its path through the air, smelling the sweat that had passed from Kira’s palm to the handle. He knew just when it was coming, how fast, in which direction, and precisely when it would arrive.
Turning at just the right moment, he swivelled around and caught the blade between two fingers with staggering ease. The entire assembly, if they had the energy, would have looked dumbstruck. Dom just laughed, bellowing into the air.
“You see,” called out Rufus, slipping the knife back into his belt. “Fatigue, heat, lack of water, they can all have an effect on your performance. Today, you have learned a valuable lesson. The arena is unforgiving, and on that hallowed sand, you won’t get a second chance.”
To everyone’s relief, the day ended there. With the light fading, they were dismissed and sent back into the cool shade of the dungeon. Immediately, everyone moved straight for the fountain, eager to fill their stomachs with as much water as they could take on.
Oom didn’t arrive first, but he was the first to drink. As Gecko leaned in, his lips tantalisingly close to the cool flow of water, Oom swept a huge arm across him and brushed him aside. Gecko scowled and prepared to spring back, but seemed to think better of it as he took in the giant’s mighty frame.
The rest lined up, though Kira and Finn merely dropped weakly against the wall and waited for the line to disperse. Shadow did the same, standing calmly and biding his time. Had the group had any remaining energy, a fight might well have broken out. Clearly, Rufus knew this was the case, and so followed them down to supervise.
As the mountain gulped, and the rest fidgeted restlessly and waited their turns, Rufus continued his lessons.
“Tomorrow you will shed your clothes and endure the sun in your fighting robes and armour. You must get used to their weight and feel. Rations will be brought down to you shortly. There will be plent
y to go around. It’s important now that you build your strength over the coming days. Master Domitian wishes for you to compete against the other schools with honour. You represent him, and this ludus, and may well find yourself working together early in the games.”
As he spoke, several guards came down the steps behind him, carrying clean clothes. They looked light and airy, and Kira eyed them covetously. She was desperate to escape the rotten material that was clinging to her skin.
“These are your garments to be worn beneath your combat clothes; short sleeved fighting tunics with attached belts. They are light and comfortable. There are loincloths too that are well fitted. Leave your clothes in a bundle beside the gate and dress in these once you’re washed.”
The soldiers placed the garments on the floor, and Kira’s eyes swung immediately to the shower, set aside in a short recess beyond an arch ahead.
“The shower is now working,” said Rufus. “Wash yourselves, dress in your tunics and get some rest. I will be returning at first light. Tomorrow, it’ll be weapons training.”
He nodded and went straight off up the stairs, the guards locking the iron gate behind him. Kira eyed it with the suspicion that Oom, once his energy had been restored, could probably rip it right off its hinges if he really put all his strength into it. Then again, that would be short-sighted, and he’d quickly be gunned down outside.
As the guards’ footsteps faded away, Kira took her opportunity to shower first. Springing from the floor, she sped off beneath the arch and drew back the curtain. It was enough to cover her, just. She didn’t care if it were there or not.
She discarded her garments as quickly as she could, stripping herself bare and twisting the rusted tap to turn on the water. It hit her skin like a soothing lullaby, sung by a mother to a weary child. It was perhaps the most glorious sensation of her life, the water tepid, clean, shedding the grime and filth from her skin and hair.
The floor quickly became brown with dirty water, cascading from her body and swirling off down a drain. It took a good five minutes to fully expose her skin again, some points requiring vigorous scrubbing to bring her pale flesh back into the light. Her hair required similar attention, certain areas tangled and knotted and in need of serious attention.
Eventually, however, she felt clean again, and though she’d endured days where she’d not been able to wash in the past, this was something else entirely. She felt like a new woman, lighter and fresher than ever before. Perhaps that was the point of all of this, to present each combatant with this feeling of relief. It certainly helped, as least in part, to make her current predicament seem slightly less grim.
Only when she’d wiped herself completely clean did she realise she hadn’t taken a tunic from the pile. Looking down at her feet, she saw her bundle of filthy clothes and considered the idea of climbing back into her undergarments too repulsive to imagine.
Peeking over the curtain, she whispered in Finn’s direction. He was sitting against the far wall, trying his best to avert his eyes.
“Psssk, Finn…grab me a tunic would you?”
He pretended to take a moment to hear her. Really, he’d been unable to keep from looking at her legs, visible beneath the curtain as she washed.
“Finn!” she hissed.
He clicked into gear, fetched a white tunic, and rushed over to her. He held it out over the curtain, his head and eyes angled away. Kira snatched the tunic and held it up against her naked frame. It seemed he’d picked the right size for her.
“Erm, a loincloth too?” she asked.
Kira didn’t really know what a loincloth was, but assumed it was a form of underwear. She doubted women were particularly well catered to down here, but was pleasantly surprised when Finn rushed off and returned with something resembling a pair of shorts. She took them as his eyes wandered around the cavern, and slipped them on to find that they were a decent fit. Then she pulled on the tunic too, which was light and comfortable, and glorious against her now-clean skin.
She let out a long sigh.
“So much better.”
The curtain was drawn back and she stepped out, gathering up her filthy clothes as she went. She smiled at Finn. “All yours.”
He quickly grabbed some new clothes of his own before taking his turn to wash, as Kira tossed her decaying combat gear into a heap and muttered, “Good riddance.”
Then, with the water line now free, she enjoyed a long drink before settling into a quiet alcove with a stone bed, thin straw mattress, and enough shade to give her some privacy. Only when the gate creaked open did she realise she’d fallen asleep.
Rations were brought in by the guards, bread and meat and what she could only describe as ‘gruel’. She chose to gorge on them all, the occupants of the cell snatching would they could as if they wouldn’t get a chance again, and slipping off into their corners to eat.
Finn, now washed and clean, looked even younger than ever. His hair was a sandy brown, with the top layer highlighted by the sun, and his sky blue eyes shone brighter against the whiteness of his tunic and the vibrant gold of his hair. He gathered his own rations and they sat together, their weeklong incarceration on the boat starting to seem a distant memory.
Kira mused on that fact again, and was surprised by how relaxed she felt. After the day they’d had, a good wash, clean clothes, and hearty meal seemed sufficient to distract her from her current fate. By comparison to the way in which they were treated on the boat, and the searing heat out in the yard, being down here in the cool shade could only be described as bliss. A feeling, no doubt, that Domitian wished for them all to enjoy.
Work hard, fight hard, and you’ll be rewarded. That was the clear message.
And so, relaxed and full of food and water, Kira soon retreated once more to her private alcove, with Finn taking the one next to her. She lay there, on the bed, as the cell grew dark and her mind faded. And even among such company, she felt no fear, no concern that she might be strangled in her sleep, not even by Shadow.
Here, all were consumed by a single compulsion, the most primitive of instincts that would keep them in line.
The instinct to survive.
17
The following day, Kira re-entered the yard dressed in her tunic and with the rest of the contenders garbed in identical fashion. Having only seen them all wearing the outfits specific to where they’d been taken, it was quite jarring to see them all dressed the same.
Oom, previously decked out in animal skins and pelts, looked quite ridiculous, his tree-trunk legs sprouting from the bottom of the tunic, and his gigantic, muscular arms from its sides. Kira considered it quite amazing that they had a garment to match his size, though she didn’t realise at the time that all of them had had their measurements taken whilst they were unconscious on the boat.
Malvo, Gecko, Gwyn, and all the rest whose names Kira hadn’t learned, looked equally odd by comparison to the previous day. Faces were no longer dirty, but clean. Hair was fresh and bright and glossy – well, barring Malvo, whose domed head was instead shining under the morning sun – and all looked well rested and ready to hit the day running.
But, to Kira, Shadow’s appearance was the most interesting, and sufficient to draw a grin. Going from a black cloak that hid most of his body, to a white tunic that unveiled so much pale flesh, served to weaken his aura somewhat. Over in Haven, the Stalkers’ outfit, as much as their powers, were what made them so frightening to the masses. Now, one side of that had been stripped away, and he looked less than happy to be so exposed.
Walking near him, she couldn’t help but drop a glib remark.
“Looking good there, Shadow,” she said, her inflection highlighting the final word. “Looking like that, you should really change your name. Ghost might suit you better…”
He swung his eyes on her.
“It isn’t my name,” he said, voice flat and slightly croaky, as if he didn’t use it that often.
She smiled at him as conceitedly as she could mana
ge.
“Oh yeah, you lot just have numbers and letters for names don’t you.”
His icy eyes refused to melt. She knew there was little going on behind them, other than the desire to ‘destroy his master’s enemies’. And, while Domitian might be his master temporarily, that was only by name. His real master, Artemis Cromwell, was all the way back in Haven.
She turned away from him with the thought, wondering just what was happening back home. Had the rebels won? Had they been defeated? Were her friends all long gone by now, or were they celebrating a great victory?
It was agony not knowing, and dwelling on it just made it worse. She cast the thought adrift, like flotsam in the ocean, and let it disappear from her mind, taken off by the waves.
She needed to keep her mind in gear. Nothing else would do her any good.
As they gathered on the sand, Rufus announced that they’d be joined by two others that day, the two injured men called Raven and Leewood returning having had their bodies hastily put back together. The former entered first, sharp narrow eyes stuck on Shadow, and Shadow alone. He was clearly aware that it was the Stalker who saw him to the infirmary.
The latter, who’d been battered half to death by Oom, offered a similar glare to the giant, but only when he wasn’t looking. As soon as the Brute swung his eyes to inspect the much smaller man, Lee averted his gaze as if afraid he might catch another beating.
He seemed pleasantly surprised when Oom reached out with a gigantic paw, head lowered a touch with a note of remorse. Lee’s initial reaction was to recoil, before he saw the contrition in the big man’s eyes and took his hand.
“No hard feelings,” boomed the giant’s voice, so deep it had Lee’s dark hair fluttering as if caught by a breeze.
“That’s…OK,” replied Lee elegantly, though he looked as though he wanted to withdraw his hand as quickly as possible. He probably didn’t have much experience with Brutes, not like Kira. She’d seen plenty in her time around Haven, most of them part of the City Guard.