The Red Warrior: The Warrior Race, Book Two

by T. C. Edge

  It wasn't easy. Aside from getting a feel for the layout, and the guards littering the compound, he turned his mind to trying to discover their shift patterns. Knowing Master Domitian as he did, he was sure all soldiers and servants under his charge would be given suitable break periods. Yet, while that appeared to be true, he knew it would take time to work out their specific patterns by watching them alone.

  A better bet would be the files kept safe by Claudius. As the man who ran the household, he was the keeper of such information, and efficient as he was, he would be sure to have detailed records of all guards in the house, their hours of work, break periods, pay, and so on. If he could, possibly, get a good look at those records, he might be able to find something of use.

  Still, that wouldn't be easy, and even if he could, where would it get him? The hurdles facing Merk were many, and seemingly far too high for him to vault. For a start, Kira was locked in the cells. If he couldn't get her out of there, then nothing else would work. If he could, then what? Well, as far as he knew, the only way out of the residence was across the training yard, through the gate, across the main courtyard of the compound itself, and then through its gate too. And while the residence owned by Dom was protected by his personal guards, there were others around the main compound who served the city and the Empress. Clearly, going that way wasn't possible.

  No, there had to be something better. Perhaps the laundry would be the answer?

  Merk could somehow stow Kira away in the big basket he used to gather up the training tunics. He'd have to somehow get her inside without anyone seeing, and then carry it up the stairs and past the guards. Then, they'd still be in the compound - after all, they did all their own laundry internally - so that wouldn't work either. And anyway, Merk didn't have the strength to haul Kira up the stairs without putting out his old back.

  Perhaps some form of bribery might work? If the guards were paid off, maybe they'd help.

  Again, Merk was quite aware this wasn't an option. To even mention such a thing to any guard would be foolish beyond belief. And even if he discovered some greedy soldier among the ranks of Domitian's men, he didn't actually have any money to bribe them with.

  No, it was quite fair to say that Merk's early plans fell quickly flat. By the time the evening came and he was bringing the gladiators their rations, he had little good news to offer Kira as he caught her eyes in the darkness. He didn't write a note this time as, truly, there was nothing to report. He merely shook his head at her and dropped his eyes. She appeared quite aware that he was up against it.

  He returned to the residence feeling quite deflated. It was only his first full day on the job, having only made the decision to help yesterday, and yet he was quickly realising it was a task that was beyond him. His promise to Kira, his duty, might not be easily upheld.

  He dined in his room that evening, his food brought by Silia. He wondered, as she entered, if perhaps she could help. A few general questions about her life there rendered that option impossible too. It was clear, as they began speaking of Master Domitian, that she was quite happy under his service, and quite loyal to him to boot.

  Merk sighed wistfully, knowing that his own loyalty was being torn apart by his honour. It was a situation he wished he could abandon, and the coward in him was thinking that, perhaps in time, it would resolve itself naturally. If he couldn't help Kira escape, then at least he could say he tried. She'd go on to die with great honour in the arena, and Merk could live on in shame, a state of existence he was all too familiar with.

  It was a battle that went on within his mind as Silia left him to his meat, bread, and single cup of wine. It appeared as though the villa was a fortress within a bigger fortress, and even if Kira, or both of them, could escape the residence itself, they'd still be stuck within the compound.

  A more likely option, Merk imagined, was Kira escaping during some sojourn beyond the gates. Occasionally, during the latter stages of the games, the remaining gladiators would be put on show in public places, or else required to fulfil other duties outside of their cells. If Kira lived that long, it might be an opportunity for her.

  But here, there appeared to be nothing, no way out beyond a dash for freedom that would, inevitably, end in failure. If the gladiators could all band together, they might have some hope. But the reality was quickly dawning upon Merk, and it wasn't a pleasant one.

  No, the old man had quickly run out of ideas. It would take some stroke of great fortune, some miracle from the heavens, for himself and Kira to see themselves free of this place.

  The knock on the door drew Merk from his sleep. So active had his brain been throughout the day, that he'd passed out right there on his bed, the light still blazing and his wine cup still half full. Or, given Merk's natural pessimism, half empty.

  He quickly sat up, shaking the blur from his head, and croaked out, "Who is it?"

  "It's Claudius," came the answer. "Master Domitian would like to speak with you."

  The rush of blood to Merk's head was caused by both his swift movement from lying down to sitting up, and the sudden concern that he'd been found out. He checked the time and saw that it wasn't overly late, but at this time of the evening he wouldn't expect to be disturbed. Master Domitian surely had better things to do than to see the old man. Unless, of course, he'd caught wind of Merk's game.

  "Merk, did you hear me?" asked Claudius.

  "Yes, yes, I'll be out in a moment," called Merk.

  "OK. Master Domitian is upon the balcony."

  His footsteps moved off, and Merk quickly straightened himself out before moving through the door, down the corridor, and towards the balcony at the front of the house. He found his master sitting alone, his eyes beneath a frown and fingers stroking his chin. It took Dom a moment to realise it when Merk stepped out into the cool night air.

  "Ah...Merk, just the man," Dom said, seeming to come out of some deep train of thought. "Please, take a seat? Wine?"

  "Yes, thank you...Dom," said Merk. He searched his master's eyes for some approval at using the shortening of his name. He was disappointed, and slightly surprised, to see that Dom didn't appear to notice.

  As he sat, however, his concern faded. This didn't appear to be a reprimanding at all. Dom wasn't giving the impression that Merk was in trouble. If anything, he appeared quite vulnerable right now, his eyes a little bloodshot and stark that suggested he'd been drinking, the flush of his cheeks visible even beyond his deep tan.

  Dom filled a cup with a slightly wavering hand, and sent it across to Merk. The old caretaker took it up and had a long sip as Dom completed his own glass, his eyes still staring off into the empty training yard. And beyond.

  "Sir, are you...all right?"

  Dom blinked several times and then nodded hurriedly.

  "Ah yes, Merk, just fine." He smiled, somewhat artificially Merk thought, before refilling his cup.

  "Did something happen...at the palace?" asked Merk carefully. He knew that his master had been summoned earlier that day. His current state of anxiety had Vesper's prints all over it.

  Dom didn't answer immediately. He lifted his eyes to the sky and began nodding.

  "This, um, issue over in Southside," he said. "The Empress...she wishes for you to help resolve it." Merk stared, confused, as Dom's eyes looked back at him. "She says that she'll give you full immunity for your help, and will even offer you a generous reward." He smiled ironically.

  "But...I don't understand," said Merk. "What can I do to help?"

  "Well, your name means something now. The Empress...she thinks that you can go to Southside, and help to calm the people. In return, you'll be left alone, rewarded, and the people of Southside will have their concerns heard in a more diplomatic fashion." Dom smiled, shaking his head. "It all sounds reasonable, doesn't it Merk?"

  Merk couldn't deny it. He nodded.

  "No...no it doesn't," came Dom's voice, stiffening. "It sounds...ridiculous," he growled. "My mother...that...evil..." His breath star
ted to heave, his face contorting. Merk found himself leaning back through sheer defensive instinct.

  He kept quiet as Dom regained his composure. Another long gulp of wine was helpful in that regard.

  "I'm sorry, Merk. My mother...gets under my skin," he smiled. "What she said has some merit, that is the truth. But I know her too well. I don't trust her at all to try to resolve this peacefully. And I don't see how you can really help out there."

  Merk was thinking as his master spoke. The words immunity and reward were swimming about in his mind. Was this real? Could he find himself safe, just by going to Southside and showing himself? Perhaps there was a way out of all of this after all.

  Then, Kira danced back into his head. The beautiful, wonderful Kira who everyone, except Vesper, seemed to be falling in love with. Any selfishness and cowardice within Merk's personality was quickly overcome by his gratitude to her and what she did. He would uphold his duty and honour. He had to.

  "So, what did you say?" asked Merk tentatively.

  Dom laughed.

  "What could I say, Merk? If I disagreed, she'd only send her Imperial Guards down here to take you anyway. She's been holding off on that for now for the very purpose of avoiding an uprising. Now, it's happening regardless, so nothing will stop her."

  "Oh..." muttered Merk fearfully.

  "But don't worry, old friend," said Dom, smiling with a hint of drunkenness. "If we're forced to do this, we'll do it my way. You'll have plenty of protection...and not Imperial Guards. No...no, not them. That would only make things worse. You'll have my own guards with you, dressed in normal clothes to blend in. It will be perfectly safe, I assure you. And the Empress will have to accept that you've tried, at least." He leaned across and put a heavy paw to Merk's shoulder. "You'll have your freedom back, old friend. Don't you worry."

  Merk nodded with eyes low, and hastily took a long gulp of wine.

  "That's it, Merk, drink away," said Dom, picking up the flask to offer him a refill. Merk didn't deny him, and his goblet was soon full to spilling.

  "So...when will this happen?" asked Merk. "What will I be required to do?"

  "Just...show yourself, not much more. The people will see you, and flock like sheep. That's when you...when you..." He shook his head. "That's when you have to lie, Merk. For your own good, you're going to have to tell the people to halt this insurrection before it gets any worse." He shrugged and added, "Not that it will do much good. But this is about you, and putting you in the clear. We'll get you out there, and then right back here. Understand?"

  Merk nodded and sipped his wine again. He didn't understand much at all, if he was being honest. He was just a caretaker on a ship, a man of the sea. He had no idea how to talk to a crowd, or influence people like this. And with the whole escape thing on his mind, he had plenty of other things to worry about.

  "So...when, sir?"

  Dom looked as though he had no answer. Shaking his head, he said, "Sooner rather than later. We'll make arrangements for this coming Sunday, most likely, when the games have their day off."

  Sunday was two days from now, prior to the start of the second week. Without the games as distraction, the people would be gathered throughout Southside. The thought sent a tremor of fear through Merk's old body.

  He looked to Dom again, whose eyes were darkening once more and venturing away into the black night. His handsome, youthful face was curled up, and Merk wondered just what terrible thoughts were running through his head. He suspected that something more had gone on at the palace, something personal. He'd never known his master to be like this, his eyes quivering with a hint of mania that, Merk hated to say, made him think of Vesper.

  Then, remembering himself, Dom drew himself from whatever awful thoughts he was having, and returned the smile to his face.

  He looked at Merk with a fondness, and seemed to make up his mind about something.

  "Do you know the story of Bastian's Bloodbath, Merk?" Dom asked.

  Merk nodded.

  "Yes, sir. Everyone knows that story."

  "Hmmmm. I thought as much. Go ahead, tell me."

  "Erm," said Merk, clearing his throat. "Well, it's about an old lanista called Bastian, whose gladiators managed to escape his training school..."

  Merk's voice faltered as he spoke. He looked at Dom, who was peering at him silently.

  "Yes, Merk, go on?"

  "Um...well," continued Merk, flustered by such talk of escaping gladiators. Was this a test? Was Dom onto him? No...no, just a coincidence. Yes, that's all it was. "Well, the gladiators...they managed to escape and killed Bastian and his wife along the way," he said. "Then, they caused plenty of trouble in the city before the soldiers surrounded and killed them."

  "Indeed," hummed Dom, the story one that was particularly close to the hearts of all lanistas. "A bloodbath it was, though I was only a boy at the time, so didn't expect to find myself as a lanista back then. It was never my aim, you know, Merk, to train gladiators. I wished for a different life. Lucius and I, in fact, once wished to rule the city together." He smiled at the memory. "I wonder if we'd have been good rulers..."

  "Oh, certainly, sir," said Merk. "At least, you would have been."

  Dom chuckled.

  "Yes, Lucius isn't the same as he was. But he was once a very good man. My best friend, my brother. Perhaps...perhaps that person's still in there somewhere..."

  He trailed off, and Merk watched on, drawn towards his master's meandering voice and scattered thoughts.

  "Anyway," said Dom. "This story of Bastian is important to all men like me. You see the guards all over the compound..." He pointed them out. "There wouldn't be so many without Bastian's Bloodbath, not by a long shot. They are here to protect us, Merk, against all foes. Not just the gladiators, but dangerous outside forces too. And here, this villa..." He looked into the main living area. "It has its secrets too."

  Then Dom turned his eyes on Merk again, and smiled.

  "You're a good man, Merk, and a loyal friend. We will make sure you're safe out there, I promise. And here, too...here you'll be safe." He picked up his wine cup and stood, and Merk sat transfixed. "Come, Merk, follow me," he said.

  Merk did as ordered, leaving his wine on the table. He followed as Dom led, moving smoothly through the house, down the steps to the ground floor, through towards the back where he stopped in a store room down a series of corridors. Merk's pulse was racing now, unsure of where this was leading. His master was acting so strangely, at times seeming almost menacing, and at others like the most caring man alive.

  The room was a dead end, empty except for some boxes. Dom moved towards the door that gave entry into it, and shut it quietly, locking the two of them away. He placed his cup of wine upon a small shelf, before stepping over to a painting on the wall that Merk only just noticed.

  "Come here, Merk...take a look."

  Merk moved closer, and saw a gruesome portrait. It was of a once beautiful courtyard, now filled with blood. Several soldiers lay dead around it, and in its centre were the dying bodies of a man and woman, both finely dressed, cut through by multiple stab wounds.

  The man was cradling the woman in his lap, and reaching up with his hand to a tall gladiator standing above him, fitted in rough armour and splashed red across his tanned body. And to the gladiator's side were another dozen of them, equally bloodied and grim.

  "It's Bastian's Bloodbath," whispered Merk, staring at the grisly portrayal.

  "Indeed," nodded Dom. "I keep it here as a reminder of what can happen out there. Always, you need to be careful here in this place, in this city."

  He reached his hand forward, and pointed with his index finger to where Bastian, holding his wife, was reaching out in mercy. The tip of Dom's finger connected with Bastian's outstretched hand, and to Merk's surprise, he gently pushed inwards, causing the hand on the picture to descend into the wall.

  Merk frowned and pulled back, and saw Dom's smile rise. Then a puff of air sounded, followed by a grinding o
f stone, and on the wall opposite, a little crack seemed to appear.

  Dom stepped towards it.

  "You see, Merk. It always pays to have options."

  He pushed at the wall, and the crack grew larger, with others appearing above and below. Then, suddenly, Merk saw it - a door, opening into a black passage, leading away into the darkness.

  Staring right at it, Merk whispered, "An escape route..."

  He slammed his lips shut, but Dom had heard. He turned, and he nodded.

  "Yes, precisely," he said. "Very few people know about it. I had to keep it that way, for obvious reasons. This is an escape, Merk, should an event like befell Bastian ever come my way. But now," he said, shaking his head and grimacing, "I fear it may be used for another reason. My mother...I can no longer trust her. There may come a time where I escape through here when she comes calling, and I assure you, Merk, I'll bring you along with me."

  He smiled, and gripping the door, pulled it shut once more.

  Merk was still staring, his mind whirring.

  "And...where does it lead?" he whispered.

  "A long way from here," said Dom. "A safehouse that not even my mother knows of. And from there, straight out of the city where no one would stop us."

  He slapped Merk on the arm, and took up his wine from the shelf.

  "Now, no speaking of this place to anyone, Merk. Understand?"

  "Of course...Master Domitian."

  "But," added Dom swiftly. "If ever the Empress comes for you here, you use it if you have to."

  Merk stared, and Dom's eyes intensified, before turning to the door.

  "Now, I have business to attend to with Rufus," he said. "You get some rest, Merk. We'll further discuss your trip to Southside tomorrow."

  And with that, the two men left the stock room, moved up through the villa, and went off on their separate ways.

  24