by T. C. Edge
Her mind was firmly committed to another battle now.
18
The following day, the gladiators resumed their training.
For those who now remained, it appeared little more could be taught and learned within the time they had. The likes of Shadow and Oom were more or less committed to their specific styles of fighting, and no amount of training in the yard was going to change that.
Lee and Malvo, meanwhile, who'd become something of a pairing after spending time together in the cells beneath the arena, remained eager to hone their abilities and continue to acclimatise to the conditions within the city. Malvo, it seemed, hailed from a cooler part of the northern westerlands, and though his life as a mercenary took him all over, he tended to favour the colder climes. The heat here was a burden for him more than it was most.
Lee, meanwhile, was still having trouble with his head. The medics had done a fine job in putting him back together after Oom beat him half to death on the ship, but he was still suffering from regular bouts of dizziness that made his abilities somewhat unreliable. If they failed him at the wrong time, he'd have little chance of recovery. Consequently, he was fully focused on training hard throughout the day, devising ways to combat the dizziness when it came.
Finn remained quiet and detached, though spent a fair bit of time getting personal coaching from Rufus. The instructor didn't have the power to manipulate matter as he did, but he'd known some who had, and remained a highly competent coach in helping to enhance Finn's powers and control.
In the end, his abilities were mental, and required a great deal of concentration and focus to use effectively. In the heat of battle, that would be hard to come by, so Rufus set about mimicking the sort of difficult conditions Finn would face on the sand. He'd attack him using wooden swords, and even ordered some of the other guards to get involved. They'd make a great deal of noise, just as the crowd would, and pushed Finn to the edge as he attempted to control the elements around him, while evading his attackers' swords and spears.
Kira watched from the other end of the yard, and saw how his first attempts ended in failure. Yet Finn would not be deterred, and as the day wore on, he began to bend the sands of the yard to his will in more impressive fashion, while displaying his quite extreme turn of speed that made him very hard to catch.
His ability to move things with his mind, however, went beyond his influence over the small particles of sand. He could command anything, so long as it wasn't too heavy, and on several occasions managed to wrest a guard's sparring sword from his grasp with a thought alone, and turn it against him without ever even touching it.
The display wasn't missed by the other gladiators as they trained elsewhere in the yard. All were impressed by the dashing blond boy, although none more so than Oom, whose childlike interest in powers he hadn't yet seen had him stopping regularly to watch in wonder.
Kira and Gwyn, who now sparred together, were also quite mesmerised by the showing. They linked eyes, but no more. Out here, with all these guards around, they had to ensure their lips were sealed when thoughts of escape were so readily on their minds.
However, the shared looks made it clear to both what they were thinking. Finn, who hadn't yet been included in their plans, was more gifted than they knew. And his powers might well come in handy when they brought him into the fold.
To that end, they decided to do so that very night. Having spent the previous evening with Dom and Rufus, Kira had returned to the cell with some excellent news for Gwyn. Whispering down a private passage, she'd quickly informed her ally of what had occurred, telling of her time on the roof, her idea to recruit Merk as their inside man and, most time sensitive of all, the schedule for the following day. Gwyn had almost broken into tears with relief when she learned she'd had another day, at least, to try to figure some escape.
However, so far that day they'd had little chance to talk. The yard was too full of eyes and ears to offer them any privacy, and so much now seemed to rely on Merk, whom Kira had no control over. She trusted him to do the right thing, but with time so short, she wasn't sure it was possible.
What she did know, however, was that she had to see him again, and soon. There needed to be a way in which they could communicate more readily, and for that to happen, the old man would have to make a move. Really, it was down to him now.
By the time the day concluded, however, the nerves were beginning to bubble up within Kira again. It was the not knowing, really, that was the worst of all. If only she could get a look at a long term schedule, she'd be able to plan accordingly. As it happened, no one ever knew who'd be fighting the next day until the night before. It was a trick used to keep the gladiators on edge, and to ensure that the public remained glued to the noticeboards with interest, desperately debating what the following day would bring.
The news would come shortly, but before then, Kira and Gwyn needed to extend news of their plan to Finn. They decided that doing so together would raise too many eyebrows, and that having all three huddled together down one passage, sharing whispers, was too much of a risk.
It was decided between them that Kira would be the best candidate, despite the fact that her fledging friendship with Finn had gone quickly stale. The reasoning for that, however, was no longer applicable. Their fading alliance was based upon the concern of getting too close and then, perhaps, having to fight each other. Kira didn't consider that an issue anymore. Now, the very opposite was true, and she dearly wished to see Finn free of this city, and back to his own village where he could retake his position as protector.
She approached him at the busiest time of the day in the cells, when they'd only just returned from the yard. It was chosen for the noise and distractions. Right about now, gladiators would be showering, changing clothes, and preparing to receive their rations. It was a good time to speak, and their discussion would be concealed within the sound of splashing water and munching mouths.
Down his own passage, Finn was peeling himself out of his training tunic when Kira approached. It was half off, revealing a tanned and well honed torso, with a couple of interesting tattoos adorning his chest that she hadn't noticed before.
"Hey, what are those?" she asked, catching Finn off guard.
He was momentarily flustered, and made sure to keep his bottom half fully covered.
"Oh...these," he said, looking down at the markings. They were small, and Kira was quite sure what they were. Still, she asked anyway, seeing it as a good way to open the conversation. "Um, this is a dolphin," he said, pointing to one. "It's our protector in the sea. The dolphin is friend to man."
"And that one?" she asked, looking at the other.
"Ah, that's the shark," he said. "The people fear them."
"And, that's why they're posing like that," said Kira, looking at the two creatures. It was obvious that the shark was the aggressor, the dolphin adopting a defensive position.
"Yeah," said Finn. "The dolphin is a symbol of my people, and the shark represents the dangers we face. Both in the sea, and...elsewhere."
Kira realised, at that moment, that Finn was the dolphin here, and those who would attack his village were the sharks. She thought back to the etchings on his armour and realised they were of dolphins and sharks too. Dom had clearly seen it all in his mind, and had his robes embellished accordingly.
She smiled at the imagery, and knew more than ever that she was doing the right thing. As much as she wished to get home to her own war, she wished the same for Finn.
As she looked upon the tattoos, he turned his eyes behind her.
"I was just going to take a shower," he said. "It's been a long day."
"Yeah. You looked good. Really good. Your powers are improving fast."
"They're...unpredictable," he said pensively. "Sometimes I can do things that I've never done before. Things that surprise me. But then...sometimes I can barely lift a grain of sand. But Rufus is really helping. He's a good man. He understands."
"He does," said K
ira quietly. "He's been through it all."
"And he's still here. He told me where he came from. It must have been horrible for him to want to stay."
"I guess a lot of the world is. I'm not sure I'd ever stay here, though, no matter where I came from. I couldn't be part of all this." She shook her head and curled down her lips, and Finn did the same.
A brief silence fell, before Finn sent his eyes down the passage, suggesting it was time for him to shower.
Kira swooped before he could leave.
"Can I talk to you...in private," she said.
Finn looks slightly confused.
"Aren't we talking now...in private?" he asked.
She shifted her eyes about to ensure no one was down the passage behind them. She saw only Gwyn, who was keeping watch. The plan was for her to cough if she thought someone was about to interrupt them. Gwyn gave her a nod to show that everything was OK.
"What's going on?" asked Finn, watching. His eyes narrowed. "You're up to something, aren't you?"
Kira looked back at him, and lifted a finger to her mouth. Then she dipped her head, and drew Finn right to the end of the passage, towards the stone bench on which he slept. Reaching it, she turned the volume of her voice so low that no one could possibly hear, and navigated her lips a mere inch from Finn's ear.
"We're planning to escape," she said. "Gwyn and me."
She leaned back to see Finn's reaction. He looked extremely doubtful, if not surprised. When he spoke, however, he was smart enough to make sure his words were quiet. They were further concealed by the sudden flow of water nearby as one of the other gladiators stepped into the shower, taking the vacant space that Finn had intended to occupy.
"How? When?" Finn whispered. "Do you think there's a way out?"
Kira hadn't really got that far, and she didn't intend on bending the truth.
"We're working on it," she whispered. "We have a man on the inside."
"You do? Who?"
"Merk," said Kira. "You remember, the old caretaker from the boat?"
"Yeah...the one who you saved in the arena? He's here?"
"He's staying in the residence right now. It sounds like he's in danger from the Empress, so Dom's keeping an eye on him."
Finn nodded, quick to catch up.
"So, he's in?" he asked doubtfully. "I got the impression he was a pretty loyal servant to Domitian."
"Oh, he is," whispered Kira. "Very much so. But he knows that he'll never be safe in the city, not after everything that's happened. And, well, he can't stay here forever. I told him to escape with us."
"And what did he say?"
"Well, we didn't get much time. I'm hoping he's agreed."
"Hoping? You don't sound certain."
"I'm as certain as I can be," said Kira. "I saved his life out there. He needs to repay the debt, and he will."
Finn's eyes turned down, giving him a moment to think. Their framing still suggested he was in two minds.
"And...you're sure about that?" he asked, seeming to require extra confirmation.
Kira was resolute in her answer.
"I'm sure," she said. "What's less certain is whether he can actually help us escape. I spent some time on the roof last night, analysing all possible routes out of here. As we know, the place is locked down pretty tight. If we're going to get out, it needs to be with help from the inside."
"So, you're relying on him both agreeing, and then actually figuring out a way to escape without the guards noticing?"
The question made clear their predicament.
Kira nodded.
"It's not ideal, but it's the best we've got. Gwyn's terrified of going back onto the sand, and Vesper's not going to let me escape alive again. We've got no choice, Finn. And...we want you to be part of this."
He smiled briefly, before flattening out his lips.
"You don't think I've got a chance of winning then?"
Kira hesitated, not quite knowing how to answer. Finn had a way of asking blunt questions that took her off guard.
"I...well...it's not about that..." she stuttered.
His smile lifted once more, halting her jumbled words.
"I know I've got no chance," he said. "But I'm surprised by you, Kira. I thought you didn't want to make friends here. You know, in case you had to fight them."
"Well, that won't have to happen anymore. That's the point, Finn. We don't have to worry about that..."
"But we do. You're putting a lot of faith in an old man who's probably out of his depth. If it doesn't work, then we're back at square one. And what you said before is true...we might have to fight each other. And all this will only make it harder."
It seemed as though Kira's previous speech to Finn had really sunk in deep. Kira's mind, however, had been irrecoverably changed.
"Whatever happens," she said slowly, fixing him with an honest stare, "I'd never fight you or Gwyn on the sand. Not now. If that cruel bitch set up a fight like that, I'd flat out refuse."
"And die," remarked Finn.
Kira nodded firmly.
"And die. If that's what it takes."
Finn grinned again, and his wariness began to erode.
"So, now what?" he asked.
Kira drew a breath. She didn't like being in a situation where her control was so limited. At this point, she'd done just about all she could. It was down to Merk now to try to figure something out.
"Now," she said, "we wait. Down here," she added, glancing around at the thick walls, "there's not much else we can do."
19
Merk spent the evening following Kira's departure in a state of semi-paralysis. He sat on his bed, his book upon his lap, just thinking for hour upon hour as the night stretched on. So deep was his concentration that his cup of wine remained unfinished, such a rarity for the man. Only when he'd completed his mental wanderings for the night at an ungodly hour did he take stock of the cup once more, and proceed to suck down the final drips to help send him off to sleep.
His thoughts prior to that were split into two stages. The first was the more emotionally draining and difficult, an almost impossible dilemma for Merk to negotiate. He had a choice ahead of him that was set to steer his life in one of two hugely diverging paths. A choice that would see him either abandon his duty to Kira, or betray his master whom he admired so much.
In the end, however, he began to realise that he had no choice at all. Kira had laid it out very cleanly and concisely for him, and however he felt about Master Domitian, his life would now be over if it wasn't for her.
She was right when she spoke of his debt, and his honour. It was now down to him to return the favour.
Kira's actions in the arena had not only saved him, but put her into an impossible position having defied Empress Vesper so publicly. In short, she'd granted him one final chance, and had signed her own death warrant in the process. Now, it was Merk's sole duty to try to seek a way to repay her.
It made him sick, of course, to operate under his master's nose like this. He had been given refuge here, safe from those who might see him dead, and thus Master Domitian was, in many ways, saving his life too. But Kira had got there first, and for her the stakes were far higher. So the longer he thought about it, the clearer his mind got.
And then, it was firmly made up.
That brought Merk to the second stage of deliberation. And, with the moral dilemma now behind him, he faced something of a different challenge - how exactly could he help?
Merk had been, for several days, confined to his room, and though he'd wandered occasionally around the villa, had little idea as to its workings. For him to help Kira get out of here alive, and do so himself, he could no longer waste his hours away within this lonely chamber. He needed to roam, and for that to happen, he had to talk to the very man he was now set to betray.
The bile rose up again in Merk's throat as the thought infused him. It had stopped him sleeping until the early hours, and as soon as he rose, it crept up his throat again. He g
ulped it back down, set his feet to the cold marble floor, and fixed his mind with a single purpose.
It was time to go to work.
Dom had many private rooms within the villa that were only ever occupied by him. Aside from the cells in the building next door, and the servants quarters on the other side of the residence, much of the upper floor of the main house was his, and his alone. He had his own bedchambers, of course, as well as a separate sitting room for private contemplation, a sprawling bathroom, an office, a library, and an additional room for dining should he choose to do so up there.
Mostly, any entertaining of guests would happen on the central floor of the household, where he'd spoken with Kira the night before, and where his parties and social gatherings would be hosted. The ground floor, too, would be used for that purpose, but the upper floor would not. No gathering was ever so big that it required its use, and over the years Dom had taken to enjoying the privacy the floor provided him. There was something about having an entire floor, rather than just a room, to himself that he rather liked.
He often put that down to growing up in a palace, where he was granted a staggering array of rooms to play in as a boy. Having sufficient space to himself was something ingrained within the man.
That being said, his general use of the upper floor was centred within his bedchambers, where he slept and did another form of entertaining, his private bathroom, and his study. It was the latter where Dom found himself that afternoon, occasionally peering out of the window into the training yard below to watch his gladiators work.
Here, there was no balcony as there was on the floor below, and yet he could still get a good view of the action if he wanted it. And, in addition, his viewing would be private as well. The window was blacked out from the outside, letting him watch the goings on within the yard without anyone knowing he was there.
He had plenty on his mind, of course, and so had chosen to spend much of the day alone. His desk was littered with books on ancient and more recent history, taken from his private library down the hall. Great tomes sat there, some now gathering dust and others more recently flipped through. Some were old enough for the pages to be quite delicate, and Dom took great care when handling them. As with his desire for space, his learnings of the past was a habit ingrained by his mother.