by T. C. Edge
Now, the situation is exactly the same. It kills me to think that the coming days will be so slow, rocking along on the waves, just hoping, praying, that my people hold out...
I feel Dom taking my hand as he leads me down towards the docks. To ensure that we don't draw a crowd, we're both dressed as civilians, hidden under cloaks and hoods. We blend in OK, even if Dom can't help but walk like a man of wealth and position. He doesn't stoop or limp like I'm attempting to do, but glides along with his usual grace, drawing a few interested looks from passers by for that reason alone.
We reach the docks, as Merk completes his conversation, hurrying back over towards us, dressed just the same. Now here's aman who has perfected the stooping, hunched walk. Only, old Merk doesn't have to put it on.
"Right, Merk," says Dom. "What's the verdict?"
The old man purses his lips, lifts a finger, licks it and holds it to the wind. I'm not entirely sure what that's meant to indicate. "Winds are good, sir," he says, his old voice bubbling along, his expression refreshed by the ocean breeze. "Seems conditions are favourable for the coming days, at least around these waters. Hard to know what we'll face further beyond."
"The season is good for trans-Atlantic voyaging," says Dom, knowing these waters fairly well himself, having spend many years gathering gladiators for the games. "I'm sure we'll be fine. And we'll have some Elementals with us who can help out in a pinch."
"Of course, Emperor Domitian," says Dom, lowering his voice appropriately. "Where is Commander Maximus?"
Dom turns around, sending his eyes over the market. "Just gathering a few extra supplies," he says. "He's managed to secure over a hundred and twenty fine fighters for the cause. They're going to take some feeding on the way.".
"Can the boat handle that many?" I ask. I gaze down the docks and jetties. "Which one is it, anyway?"
Merk points it out with a skinny finger, one of the digits on his hand missing after a particularly nasty incident with a rabid slave some years back. "That one there, my Lady," he says, with a note of pride in his voice. "It'll be fine for that many men. A squeeze, sure, but not too tight."
I see the vessel he's pointing out, a quite fine looking ship. It's sleek, but not overly so, and carries a less modern feel than some of the others that the military use. I suppose Dom knew what he was doing when he handed it to Merk, knowing the old man's penchant for the more antiquated styles and designs.
"We'd best be moving as soon as possible, if that's OK, sir," Merk goes on. "The wind is good for a quick escape from port. I always like to have a good start to a voyage. I find it a good omen for the rest of it."
"Yes, Merk, I know your whims and fancies," says Dom wryly. "I'm certainly of the same mind on this occasion, as I'm sure Kira is too. Why don't you two go and prepare for departure. I'll fetch Maximus and his cohort."
"You sure that's wise?" I ask. "What if someone recognises you?"
He waves away the idea. "Then what? They'll praise me for helping bring these lands back to good health?"
"I was thinking more they'd attack you for abolishing the games. But...that's just me."
"Ever the worrier," Dom says. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
He moves off, stepping away with this languid elegance, so incongruous with what he's wearing. I can immediately see a few more people watching him, quite bewildered by the sight. They don't do much, though. Merely look for a moment, shake their heads, and then carry on with whatever they were doing.
"Right Kira," this way.
I follow Merk along the port and towards the approaching jetty where his ship, Domitian, is moored. Down here by the coast, it remains warm despite the time of year, though that could largely be due to this heavy cloak I'm wearing. The sun beats down from above, setting the seas sparkling and dancing off into the distance. With the chirping and the gulls and general hum of the sailors and dockworkers, it's quite a pleasant ambience, one I always enjoy when leaving, or returning to, port.
We move onto the ship, Merk leading me onto the bridge, where the various controls are stationed. According to the old man, the ship itself doesn't require much of a crew, most of the work done by the autopilot system.
"Though," he adds, "we always need someone on hand to watch over things, should we run into a spot of bother. I'll try my best to be here as much as I can, but I'll need to sleep sometimes. I may call upon you, my Lady, to help out if that's OK? Just watch over things, keep a lookout ahead. You'd be quite good at it, I imagine, with those eyes of yours."
"Sure," I say, wandering around and looking at the controls. "So long as it's just keeping watch, I'll be fine."
"Oh, sure, you'd call on me if there's a problem. She's easy enough to run, but only if you know her well enough."
"She?" I say. "Domitian is a girl now?"
He frowns, as though he hadn't thought of that before. "Right, yeah," he mumbles. "Maybe 'Domitia' is better."
"Can't the boat just be referred to as a 'he'?"
"I'm not so sure about that," he says. "Ships and boats are always ladies, Kira. There's along maritime tradition of it."
"Nice to see my gender is well represented here. Why is that, exactly?"
"Well, it's about motherhood and protection, I think." He looks to the waters ahead. "We're out there on the open seas, and need looking out for. That protective nature, well, it's always strongest in a mother."
As he speaks, my supersensitive ears pick up the sound of banging feet and hurried voices. I turn towards the door and move to step out, but find Dom quickly rushing down the outside deck, speeding inside before I can get there.
"We need to get going. Right now," he says.
"Why? What's happening?"
"Some soldiers are coming down to try to hold us up," he says. "It's probably Senator Tiberius's doing. He's got some sway with a few of the higher ranking officers. Unfortunately, corruption isn't something we've dealt with here yet."
"And? What, we're going to fight them right here on the shore?"
"No, no, it won't come to that. He's just trying to stop us leaving, that's all. Some of these older senators, they're all about due process. I could argue that this is a personal venture of mine, but it would still take time. Time we don't have." He looks to Merk. "Merk, get going..."
"Already on it, Emperor Domitian," says Merk, quickly bringing the boat to life.
I watch the entire thing unfold, half overcome by the absurdity of it all.
"Dom, what the hell is all this?!" I say. "You're the Emperor. Who the hell is Tiberius to try to tell you what to do?"
"A powerful and rich senator, with a lot of support and influence," Dom responds quickly. "Just because I'm the Emperor, or one of them, doesn't mean I can just do what I want. We're trying to change what happened with my mother here, Kira..."
"Yeah, well, maybe it was better that way." I go silent, shocked that those words found their way out of my mouth. "I...I can't believe I just said that," I whisper.
"No, it's OK," says Dom, rushing about, helping Merk. "It does have its appeals sometimes. There's something...clean about it."
From the door, Maximus comes marching in, stern as ever, though totally in control. His dark brown eyes survey us quickly, his armour hidden beneath a cloak.
"The rations and supplies are loaded, sir," he says. "Some of Tiberius's men have already arrived. They're threatening to board the boat if we try to leave the harbour."
Dom lets out a laugh. "And you'd let them do that, would you Max?"
Max's cheeks seem to depress into his face, his jaw clenching tight. "No, sir."
"Good," says Dom. "Go and tell them that, would you."
"I already have, sir. But, um, General Decimus is with them."
Dom raises his eyes. "General Decimus? Really?"
"Yes, sir. He says he's here to see that no Neoroman soldier is taken to a foreign war without the consent of the council."
"And the word of the Emperor doesn't count?" I ask, still finding it h
ard to get my head around the convoluted nature of their political system.
"Not in this instance," sighs Dom. He shakes his head. "Merk, have us ready to leave when I call for it. I need to speak with the General."
He moves out, Max by his side, marching towards the back of the boat.
"And who's this General Decimus now?" I sigh. My knowledge of the city hierarchy remains woefully incomplete.
"A great wartime leader," says Merk, "and the most celebrated general in the Neoroman army. He's not someone you can just ignore, really."
"They're not going to stop us, are they?" I ask, suddenly concerned that we'll find ourselves grounded.
Merk doesn't give an answer, turning from the controls to face me. "Ship's ready to leave when ordered. I guess...I guess we'll find out soon."
I step out, with some trepidation, into the afternoon sunshine, my eyes immediately falling upon a host of Neoroman soldiers as I progress to the back of the ship. They stand on the docks, fully dressed in their armour, a man of great stature at their front. He sits in the saddle of a large horse, his chin decked with a short beard of white, brown, and grey, his eyes a shining silver and surrounded by a network of furrowed lines.
It's easy enough to sense the man's gravity by his appearance alone. His voice, when he speaks, is equally arresting.
"This ship cannot leave the harbour, Emperor Domitian," I find him saying as I step towards the back. I remain a little behind Dom, Max, and several of his men, however, not so much wanting to be seen or heard, but merely to observe. Unless, of course, compelled to interfere. "You know the laws of our city and lands. This military action is unsanctioned, and has not yet received the approval of the council."
And it never will, I grumble internally.
"This is not military action, General Decimus," returns Dom calmly, though looking slightly anxious in the face of the man. "It is merely my personal protective cohort, escorting me on a personal errand."
"A personal errand of war," says Decimus.
Dom shakes his head. "That isn't my intention."
"Then what is your intention?" asks Decimus sternly.
"To take a short voyage," Dom responds, "and enjoy some sea air. I haven't been on the waves in a while, General. I feel like doing some...fishing."
"Fishing?" The man's eyes narrow. "And you need over a hundred soldiers in your guard to, what, pull in the nets?"
"The seas can be unruly and wild, as you know," says Dom, committing to the lie. "My men will protect against pirate raids. There really was no need for you to ride all the way down here, General. You can tell Senator Tiberius, when you see him, that I shall return shortly."
"Senator Tiberius is a patriot, as am I, Emperor Domitian. We are acutely aware of your intentions."
"Is that so?" says Dom. "I wasn't aware that you were a telepath, General, nor Senator Tiberius."
"Very glib, Emperor Domitian. It doesn't take a telepath to know what you're up to."
"And it doesn't take a senator, or even a general, to prevent me from leaving this harbour," says Dom quickly. "I respect you greatly, General Decimus, and do not wish to create any rift with you. But the fact of the matter is, there is nothing you can do to stop me." His eyes glint and cast off their usual humour, narrowing, his voice growing in authority. "Unless, that is, you wish to engage."
At that, I hear a great shuffle of movement, Commander Maximus and his cohort all stiffening, moving into defensive posture. A clear signal that they are willing to fight, if they need to. That they will stand behind their Emperor, loyal to a man.
General Decimus turns his eyes upon the force, all standing around the rear of the boat. He draws a breath, considering things as the standoff takes place, a heavy tension settling in the air. Nearby, the entire dock seems to have fallen silent, port workers watching on, traders and merchants gazing upon the bizarre spectacle.
General Decimus appears to be acutely aware of this. His eyes scan the scene, assessing his options.
"This will not go down well with the council, Emperor Domitian," he says dourly. He clips forward a few paces on his horse, moving a little closer to the boat. "But if you should fight, fight well," he says quietly, hardening his expression, the faintest of resolute smiles on his bearded lips. "For the glory of Neorome," he says.
Dom nods, his facade similarly intense. "For the glory of Neorome," he repeats.
With that, the General begins moving back again, his eyes scanning over his soldiers. "Back to the city," he calls out. His eyes work over the many onlooking. "There is nothing to see here," he growls, his words forcing the crowds to unthaw, springing back into action, turning away quickly.
I move to Dom's side, as he orders Marcus to inform Merk of our departure. The Commander marches off, his hand only just releasing the hilt of his sword as he goes.
"That was...tense," I say, watching as Decimus and his men begin to move off.
Dom nods, watching the General leave. "Tiberius will not take kindly to this."
"Well screw him," I say. "And all those cowards in the senate. The General didn't seem too bothered at the end there. He almost looked like he wanted to join."
"He's a fine man," Dom muses, "and an even finer leader. But above that, he's a Neoroman soldier. Warring is in his blood." He nods. "Part of him wanted to come, all right."
"But he couldn't," I say, understanding the man's quandary. "Because of his position. Because of his commitment to the rules."
"Exactly. And because of the pressure Tiberius exerts." The cohort around General Decimus begin to disappear up the street. "I hoped he'd see sense," Dom goes on. "Now we just have to hope Lucius keeps working on the council to sway them."
"And...will he?" I wonder. "Lucius seems more in line with Tiberius's way of thinking."
"He's...more on the fence between us," Dom answers. "But he voted for this alliance, and isn't to be so easily swayed against it as some of the neutral senators. If it were just down to the two of us, then I'm sure we'd have come to an agreement to send many more soldiers than we have here."
"Then maybe you should just revert to how it was," I suggest. "When you first took power after your mother's death, it was just you and Lucius. Now you've brought in the senate, and things are only getting muddy. Keep it clean, as you say. It was working well..."
"But only because the decisions were simple, and obvious. Nothing is so clear anymore, Kira." He shakes his head, sighing, his voice turning distant. "Our goal was to slowly give more power to the senate, make this nation more of a democracy. But all that does is create a breeding ground for snakes like Tiberius. I'm wondering now if we're making the right choice."
I nod alongside him, though don't speak. This is something for him to ponder alone, something he'll get a chance to do as the boat begins to rumble, moving out into the harbour.
I turn my eyes to the blue skies, the shimmering water, the smells and sounds of the port town of Ostia. And then, out to sea, the turquoise waters of the Mediterranean calling us home once more.
Yes, Dom has plenty to ponder, but so do I.
And out there, I'll have more than enough time to do it.
Far too much, I think, bracing against the slow days ahead.
Hoping. Just hoping...
That I get there in time.
16
Brie
The fuzzing blue shield shimmers ahead, working left and right along the borders of the Olympian camp. Beyond, I get the impression of the newly installed buildings, their base large and hastily erected, a portable village brought thousands of miles from the north.
It's quiet, broken occasionally by the bombardment in the distance, the city being besieged. A few voices hum quietly, though I can hardly hear them. Beside me, Marcus can, his hearing more attuned than mine, a little bit of Bat in his blood.
He looks to me as we crouch low behind a fallen tree, a few others discarded here outside of camp. There seems to be little security here, just a few guards beyond the shiel
d, stationed at one of the command modules. I notice a patrol moving past, though they don't linger long. With a quick update from the command post, all mumbled words to my un-augmented ears, the patrol moves off again.
And in my head, I hear Marcus's voice, updating me on what they said.
All's clear, they're saying, he tells me. No problem reported by the command post. One of the patrol guards said they'd return in half an hour. We have our window, Brie.
He grins, teeth white in the moonlight.
I look again, the shimmering shield serving to disrupt my vision as I try to look through it. I can make out only three guards there, behind the barrier. The patrol of six moves off, leading the border guards alone.
No one else around, Marcus says in my head. Now's our chance. It's up to you, Brie. You're the only one who can get us through that shield.
I nod, my heart beating at the challenge ahead of me. This isn't something I've done before. I don't even know if my powers will be able to traverse the shield.
What if my telepathy doesn't get through, I think to myself.
I feel Marcus's hand reach out to take my arm. He can see the expression of doubt on my face.
"You've got this," he whispers, using his real voice. "I believe in you, Brie."
His words give me some conviction, the courage I need to try.
A soft smile appears on my face as I nod, shutting my eyes, knowing Marcus will be keeping watch as I narrow my focus. I do as I did in the battle last night, entering into the strange, etherial space inside my mind, the world coming into view as a murky grey expanse. Right next to me, I sense Marcus's own presence and mind, buzzing with a variety of electrical signals I can now perceive. I can sense his thoughts, his feelings. They give me strength once more.
He believes in me, he knows I can do this.
But there's...more. His feelings are stronger than that.
I turn from him, and extend my focus out, trying to seek beyond the shield. It appears as a shimmering sheet of grey in my head, the soldiers beyond beginning to grow in clarity. Their signals are weaker, harder to detect due to their distance from me. Yet the shield itself, I realise, plays no part at all. It doesn't hinder my powers.