The Red Warrior: The Warrior Race, Book Two

by T. C. Edge

  11

  The culmination of Kira's bout was a test for Empress Vesper.

  Dom, half delirious with relief, managed to maintain one eye on her as his wondrous, brave, and beautiful contender completed the job and cut off the head of the giant.

  The roaring crowd and deafening cacophony afforded Dom a private moment to celebrate. Losing himself for just a second, he stood quickly to his feet and let out a bellow, thrusting his fist to the air before him. Such was the commotion all over the stadium that his celebration was largely concealed. After all, it wasn't becoming for a lanista like him to become overly invested in the fate of his gladiators.

  Dom, in that moment, didn't care one bit. Yet, he was keen to inspect his mother's reaction too, and noted that her ire was fully on show. All through the fight, she'd been clenching her fist each time a blade got close to striking Kira down. As the girl began to suffer from the cold, and Redmane took charge of the bout, her smile lifted in imminent victory.

  It had faded, of course, as soon as Kira took up the great sword and began dismantling her carefully laid plan. Bit by bit, she'd sunk into silence, glowering down from on high and even failing to perk up when one of the big screens turned itself on her and displayed her expression to the masses. She didn't seem to care, and it was becoming obvious to the people all over Neorome that Vesper had no love for The Red Warrior.

  As Kira took the victory, Vesper's expression soured beyond all recovery. And before Lord Pontius could even stand and announce Kira the official winner, she'd stood and stormed away, Ares marching off by her side. Dom watched her go and saw her eyes stick on Lucius, who dipped his head in fear and submission. She was the only person in the city, barring perhaps his father, who could prise such subservience from Dom's rival.

  Returning his eyes to Kira, Dom watched on with a uncontainable grin as Lord Pontius magnanimously announced her the victor. She bowed to him and retreated to the gate, and Dom turned to Rufus with a command to go down to her.

  "You're not coming?" Rufus asked him, equally delighted with how things had gone.

  "In a moment," said Dom, turning his eyes to Lucius.

  As Rufus left, Dom meandered over to his old friend. There was no pomposity in him, though he could easily have been quite smug about Kira's success. One thing was for sure - Lucius certainly would have been.

  But today, Dom had no desire to extend their animosity. He approached with his grin now removed and a face of condolence in its place. Lucius, however, wasn't so quick to trust its sincerity.

  "Oh don't, Dom," he muttered as Dom advanced. "I'm not in the mood, OK."

  Dom poured a goblet of wine, and then another. He took one up and handed it to Lucius, while holding the other for himself.

  He raised his eyes and took another attempt so show some commiseration, holding out his cup. Lucius blew out a breath and, somewhat begrudgingly, took the goblet and tapped it against Dom's.

  The two men took a long swig together.

  "I didn't see that coming," said Lucius with a retrospective tone. He looked at Dom. "Fair play to you. A good showing by your girl. You had the better red-head after all."

  "It would appear so. Although, it wasn't made easy," said Dom. His eyes had turned. They now sought an explanation, and Lucius knew it.

  "Not my idea," said Lucius. "None of this was."

  Dom nodded.

  "I know. This has my mother's grubby fingerprints all over it. She didn't look happy with you at the end there. I'm assuming she put you up to it?"

  Lucius glanced about and lowered his voice, nodding subtly.

  "She's not really happy with anyone these days."

  Another sip was sunk. This was about the most the two had agreed on for some time.

  Across the gallery, Lord Pontius, official duties concluded, was now meandering through the lords and ladies and mingling as he did so well. He seemed to spend a great deal of time these days networking with the more influential men and women of the city, and beyond.

  Moving through, he sent a sharp glance at his son, who retreated a little further into his shell.

  "I'd better go," said Lucius suddenly, without offering further explanation.

  He didn't need to, really. Lucius, despite appearances, was very much under his father's thumb.

  He finished his cup quickly, and turned to Dom just before he stepped away.

  "You know...I wouldn't put much stock in Kira living long," he said. "Your mother's got it in for her. And you know how that goes." He smiled, and Dom saw his old friend again. Then, the smile turned malicious once more. He slid a thin tongue over his bottom lip. "Just a friendly warning," he said. "I kinda want Kira to live as long as possible too. For...obvious reasons."

  His hazel eyes glinted, and he swept away, their acrimony restored.

  Dom paid it no mind, and completed his own goblet of wine. He drew a long, weary breath, and let out an audible puff. It was only the fourth day of the games, and he felt exhausted already. He never usually spent so much emotional energy in the early exchanges. At this point, the games should be a festival and nothing more, a joyous time to be alive.

  Somehow, that had changed, and though Kira was ostensibly a large part of that, there was something far deeper at play. Dom knew that something inside him was changing, or perhaps waking. A long dormant part of him that, occasionally, rose to the surface. The part that looked upon his place in the world and felt sick. That gazed upon the blood-stained sand and wished to never see another man killed. And above all, the part that began to think deeply about the lives he'd ruined, about the people he'd stolen from faraway lands.

  Dom was guilty of these moments of weakness, something the likes of his mother was well aware of. He'd learned to suppress them, his mental gifts capable of pushing such impulses deep into his mind where they so rarely saw the light. But when they did, Dom looked upon himself, and the city, in a different light entirely. And over the last few days and weeks, that light had grown brighter, showering his world in a horrible truth that he couldn't ignore.

  This city, he had come to believe, was a house of cards, a mansion built on sand. The reign of his mother had seen it grow strong, but as her mind grew wild, so did the streets. And as the disease took hold inside her, so it infected the city too.

  The scent of change was in the air. In the shadows, something was brewing.

  And the warrior race wasn't enough to mask it.

  12

  The stifling heat beneath the arena was a far cry from what Kira had just experienced. Drenched in Redmane's blood, she stalked her way back to the cells with an escort of guards to find Oom pacing from side to side, and Shadow in exactly the same spot she left him.

  The giant looked at her with a wide-eyed admiration, watching her with a keen interest as she passed into the cell. The guards stayed outside, and a moment later, Rufus came hurrying down the subterranean passage to rejoin them.

  He paced right in with his pure white teeth shining bright down there in the gloom, and placed his sinewy hands to Kira's bloodied shoulders.

  "Magnificent," he whispered, grinning and shaking his head. "Truly magnificent."

  His reaction led to one from Shadow. The Stalker creaked his bones and rose into a sitting position in a single motion. He looked at Kira but didn't speak. His eyes showed a blank emotion with, perhaps, the barest hint of dislike.

  Kira didn't have the energy to consider him. She just nodded and then collapsed onto a bench as Oom continued to watch her, intrigued.

  Eventually, he managed to think of a suitable question.

  "How did you kill him?" he asked.

  Kira looked up wearily.

  "Cut off his head," she said.

  Oom's gigantic lips parted and a bout of laughter, sufficient to shake the foundations of the entire Colosseum, erupted from his thick throat.

  "I wish I had seen," he bellowed. "This man you fought was big, yes? How did you get high enough to cut his head?"

  He frown
ed, inspecting Kira's rather diminutive stature. He had a comical manner about him that she hadn't yet witnessed.

  "I reached up," she said. "And, I guess he was leaning down a bit."

  "Ah yes. I understand. You must be stronger than you look to cut off the head of a man that big. Thick bone in his neck. Need lots of power."

  He filled his lungs with a full breath and tensed his arms. They bulged so large and tight they looked like they might split the skin and spew up a mass of ragged muscle. Kira's energy might have been mostly depleted, but she still looked upon the gigantic man with a feeling of awe. Redmane was big. Oom was much bigger, much stronger, and must faster too.

  She could only feel glad, at that moment, that they appeared to be on the same side. For the time being anyway.

  Still, while weary, there was an elation inside her that still pulsed loudly. Her heart rate was still rattling away, and would certainly take some time to slow back down with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. As she sat there, feeling slightly awkward under Oom's endless stare and occasional questioning, she noted the sound of footsteps coming down the rock corridor.

  Seconds later, Dom swept in and marched right towards her.

  "I have no words, Kira," he said, his handsome face seeming to shine, even down there with so little light. He looked her up and down and drew a cloth from his pocket. "Here, use this to wipe your face."

  Kira looked at it. It appeared to be a rather fancy handkerchief.

  "Are you sure? I'll ruin it?"

  "Of course, of course. You can have a proper shower back at the residence. We can debrief back there too."

  Kira wasn't entirely sure if he was referring to the cells, or the actual villa. Dom remained quite hard for her to read. She'd heard and seen enough to suspect that, at his core, he was a good man. Yet she could never see herself fully trusting a purveyor of flesh like him, a slaver who traded in death.

  She took the handkerchief and soaked it red, before handing it straight back.

  They didn't stay long in the cells. Dom was quick to call his little convoy and guide them all out onto the street. He warned of a gathering crowd, and Kira was greeted by an even larger one than she'd seen after the cull. Some were clearly there for Shadow, others entranced by Oom. Yet the loudest roar of all was set aside for her, and her moniker was chanted as they climbed into the carriage, their ankles fixed in chains, and begun rolling off down the cobbles away from the towering stadium.

  Kira sat and, unlike before, she didn't stand and enjoy the moment. She looked instead at the grand facade of the arena, rising up into the fading sky, and knew she'd be back there in a few days with an even more difficult task. As far as she saw it, Vesper wasn't going to stop until she was dead, and with the likes of Oom, Shadow, and Lucius' top seeds still in play, she had extremely short odds of seeing herself into the next week.

  It was a feeling of inevitability, and the sense of invincibility immediately following her victory was beginning to grow thin in her blood. If she could fight on even terms, then who knows, perhaps she'd have a chance. A minor one, yes, but something to sink her teeth into. However, she was convinced that wouldn't be the case, and today had proven that beyond doubt. Next time, the odds would be insurmountable, and Vesper would guarantee her death.

  As far as Kira saw it, sitting there in the carriage as the sun began to set, her own race was run. The games, for her at least, were over. If she stepped back onto the sand, she'd never step off.

  So, rolling gently along the cobblestones, with the crowd being held back by the cordon of mounted guards, Kira set her eyes on the city and drew in all she could. She looked at her chains and wondered if they could be picked or somehow broken. She sniffed the air in search of a sewer, some secret way to escape. She looked down each street they passed, and up to the rooftops, and began to draw a mental map of the central regions of Neorome.

  She took it all in, and logged it safely in her mind, a mind that was now turning to the one hope she had left. Gwyn had spoken of escape, and despite winning a great victory today, she now began to see that it might be her only way out.

  The training compound's close proximity to the stadium, however, made her scouting mission brief and nowhere near extensive enough. She knew she needed a lot more information to go on before she could even consider conceiving of a plan that might just work. Her experience as a spy in the city of Haven had made her extremely efficient in moving around unseen, and her expertise in evading capture and avoiding the prying eyes of the many Stalkers who hunted the streets there was invaluable.

  But, Haven was a city she could navigate with her eyes shut. It was a city with a network of secret passages beneath it that the rebel forces used to get around. It was a city where, even in dangerous enemy territory, she felt confident, a place where she always had at least three or four possible escape routes logged in her mind wherever she happened to venture.

  Neorome wasn't the same. Her knowledge was extremely basic, and that made her skill set rather redundant. Unless she could garner a more extensive map of the city, and configure some possible way out, any escape attempt would be folly. And while her death in the arena was all but guaranteed, being caught during an escape would result in her end, no question. Being punished and executed via way of the decimation, or worse, wasn't an appealing thought.

  No, she'd rather die on her feet, fighting, than die in shame to the sounds of booing. If she was to try to break loose of this place, she needed to know that there was at least a chance. In the end, the odds needed to be better than what she'd face on the sand.

  Either way, death was now stalking her every turn. And in a city of enemies, she needed to be very careful in choosing who to trust.

  She glanced at Shadow as her thoughts rushed along, and the carriage rolled at a more gentle pace. She still wasn't entirely sure what enhancements he had. Super speed, yes. Incredible eyesight, tick. But did he have enhanced hearing too? And if he did, any whispered conversation with the likes of Gwyn needed to be hidden from his ears.

  She didn't trust him, of course, and wouldn't trust anyone else down in the cell beyond Gwyn and Finn. And even trusting them was difficult enough. Kira wasn't the type to lend her trust to someone unless she knew them intimately. She barely knew these people, but necessity was forcing her faith.

  Gwyn had been the one to mention escape. She knew full well her days were numbered. Finn, too, though turning cold and quiet, appeared convinced his final days were upon him. Kira knew full well he wished to go home more than anything. And someone with gifts like his might well be a useful asset.

  The carriage arrived at the gate to the compound, where the chanting fans were finally left behind. Into the quiet courtyard they rolled, moving left towards Dom's residence and training yard. Claud, his chief attendant, was awaiting his arrival along with a host of guards. There were so many of them here at all times, a dozen at least littering the residence, and more in the main compound beyond. Arriving back, Kira's fledgling plan suddenly appeared futile, and her confidence waned.

  But, though the fire was weak, the embers still burned. She stepped from the carriage after her ankles were unchained, and entered the training yard with the other victorious gladiators. Dom stopped them in the centre, and Rufus lined them up before him, Oom in the middle, Kira and Shadow tiny at his flanks.

  "I'm not one for big speeches," started Dom, "but I think it's safe to say you've all done this ludus extremely proud today. Oom, your brutality in taking out the tribesmen of the Banuk was a rare sight indeed. Bravo."

  Oom smiled, but his smile was muted. Kira glanced up at him and wondered how he felt about all this too. She hadn't seen his fight, of course, but the mention of this 'Banuk' tribe suggested they must have shared some sort of kinship with the gigantic man of the mountains. Primitive men, perhaps, like him. And though Kira had been forced to kill one man, clearly Oom had had to murder many more.

  Dom then turned to Shadow, tall and rigid and staring f
orward placidly.

  "Shadow, efficient as expected," said Dom. "I'm not quite sure the crowd have ever witnessed a quicker bout," he laughed. "Though, I imagine they'd prefer it if you put on more of a show next time."

  Shadow's expression didn't change. It seemed there was no way to influence his manner of killing. As Kira knew, his programming was such that, when ordered to hunt and kill, he'd do so in the most efficient way possible. Stalkers didn't have it in them to entertain people. In the arena, he would seek to destroy whoever was put before him as quickly as he could.

  "Right," went on Dom, now turning his eyes to Kira. His smile burgeoned. "I don't know what to say, really. You overcame all the odds, and they were stacked against you. You used your ingenuity and skill to great effect. You are, I have to say, full of surprises, Kira."

  His eyes stayed on her for a while, a sparkling affection inside them. Then he drew a sudden breath, clapped his hands, and turned to Rufus.

  "Right, get them back to the cell."

  Rufus nodded and set about moving them off.

  "Um, Kira," called Dom as they went. "Have a good long wash. Fresh clothes will be brought to you. I would prefer to have a longer debrief with you later, as I mentioned before. Rufus will come get you."

  He moved off into the residence, a lingering look on her as he went, and those embers in Kira's head began to burn a little brighter. If she was to get more information, she needed to get out of that cell. The main residence was a start.

  Moving to the dungeons, she looked up to the balcony she was on last night. There was a decent view from there. Then, her eyes lifted higher, and she saw that the roof of the house was unobstructed by the surrounding buildings. It would give her a clear view around the immediate streets in all directions.

  She nodded to herself. Tonight, she needed to get up there.

  13

  The first person to greet Kira as she entered the cell was Gwyn. By the looks of things, she'd been hanging around just beyond the gate awaiting Kira's return. As soon as she saw her, her face exploded into a smile and she, perhaps inadvisedly, wrapped Kira up into a hug.