by T. C. Edge
And he saw that it was sick.
As Dom mourned above, so Kira celebrated below. Her friends had survived, and the three were back together. She felt buoyant and full of mirth, and though she didn't want to show it, she couldn't stop from hugging both Finn and Gwyn upon their return.
She hauled them into the shadows, and heard of the bout. Finn stayed quiet, but even if he wished it, wouldn't have gotten a word in edgeways for Gwyn's breathless recounting of what went down.
Gwyn gushed, and Kira listened, and Finn stayed adorably silent, appearing embarrassed by the attention. Only once the tale was told did he shrug and say, "It was Rufus' plan. And the conditions suited me."
Kira had quickly learned that Finn wasn't one to take plaudits, especially when those plaudits were handed down for murder.
They continued to whisper, forgetting themselves for a time, and to the other gladiators, their bond was clear. The three were thick as thieves, and to a suspicious mind, such activity might be revealing. Yet at that time, none of them seemed to care. They were discussing the fight, after all, and not their secret plan. No one gave voice to it until the end, and when the topic finally arose, their voices dropped to the silkiest of whispers.
"Anything from Merk today?" asked Gwyn.
Kira shook her head.
"Nothing since this morning."
She looked at Finn, who she hadn't informed of the secret passage. It appeared that, at some point during the day, Gwyn had.
"We heard something on the way back," said Gwyn. "About Merk."
"What?"
"Well, Dom was speaking with Rufus in the carriage about some trip to Southside. Apparently there's some rebellion starting down there, or the threat of one at least. I guess you're the expert on that," she smiled.
Kira's mind turned back home. She nodded.
"I know a thing or two about how they work," she said. "So, what's Merk got to do with it?"
"Well, he's this big hero over there now, apparently. You know, after the cull and everything. They hate the Empress down there as much as you do..."
"Yeah, I know."
"Right. Well, from what I heard, Dom had a meeting with his mother, and she commanded him to send Merk over to Southside to calm the people down. He'll be rewarded for it or something. I didn't hear much more."
"Shit," said Kira. "That's not good. If he's working with the Empress, then he won't need to help us escape."
"Yeah, but he told you about the secret passage, so I think he's still on our side," said Gwyn. "I'm more worried about this being a trap. You know, one to get Merk into the open and then make an example of him. What if he's killed out there? Then we're done."
Kira nodded, her elation fading. This was a potential problem for sure, but not one they could do anything about.
"It's out of our hands either way," she said. "Do you know when this is happening?"
"Tomorrow," nodded Gwyn.
"Then I guess we won't have to wait too long to find out."
As the girls were chattering, Finn was quietly thinking. His eyes were moving from one set of lips to the other, his un-augmented sense of hearing struggling to pick up every word of the discussion. But it didn't matter, because his thoughts were elsewhere. His mind was firmly on the escape.
"I can help," he whispered, nodding securely.
The whisper drew the girls' eyes, breaking their nattering.
"Help?" asked Kira. "What do you mean?"
His eyes slid to the centre of the dungeon.
"I can help us escape, when the time comes. This place...we've been here for two weeks now. I know the sand, the fixtures and fittings. The guards...I feel them. I have control here now. I can really help."
Kira was frowning. His words barely made sense to her, but they seemed to make sense to Gwyn.
She was nodding along, eyes widening a touch.
"Yeah...yeah, like today," she said excitedly. Then she looked at Kira. "Rufus was talking about it today, before the fight. It was the plan, Kira. The longer Finn's somewhere, the more he can control the things around him, right? So, like I told you, he was moving knives, and the sand, and even people. It was amazing. And he's been here, right here, for two weeks! Think of what he could do!"
Her voice was getting a little too loud, a little overexcited for Kira's liking. She hushed her with a set of firm eyes, and then looked at Finn.
"So, is this how you protect your village back home?" she asked. "You live there...so you have greater control of your powers?"
He nodded.
"It's taken time here, but now I'm...I don't know, it's hard to explain. I just know that I can be useful."
Kira smiled at him.
"Finn, you're useful anyway."
"But I mean really useful. If Merk can open the gate for us, I can help to clear a path to this tunnel. If we combine our powers, we can do it. I'm sure we can."
All three were now smiling, and nodding. But Kira's remained the voice of logic and reason.
"Well, we'll give Merk more time. If he can get us into the main villa somehow, without us needing to kill or hurt anyone, that would be preferable. We can use our powers if we're chased, but we want to be as stealthy as possible. The more time we have without anyone knowing we're gone, the better. I've got a feeling we'll need a decent head-start out there."
"And, if Merk is killed tomorrow, and he never comes back?" asked Gwyn.
Kira shrugged and smirked.
"Then I guess we're screwed."
Merk didn't take the gladiators their rations that night. With more important things to be doing, the task was handed to someone else. The old man firmly hoped that he'd get the duty back when all this nonsense was done, and his trip to Southside complete.
He spent the evening in discussion with Master Domitian and Rufus, who was set to take command of security for the affair. It appeared that Dom himself wouldn't be going along, a piece of news that caused Merk's eyes to shallow and an explanation to come.
"I'll only muddy things up, Merk," Dom said. "I'm the son of the Empress, so my presence might not go down too well."
"But...they know I'm here, right," said Merk. "They know you've taken me in, and have been protecting me. Surely they trust you?"
"Well, such things remain more rumour and speculation than fact down there. You'll be well protected by Rufus and his men, don't worry. And when you're done, you'll be taken right back here."
Both men looked to Rufus.
"Right," said the instructor. "You'll be safe and sound with me, Merk."
Merk remained unsure.
"So, you definitely think the Empress is being, um, truthful here? I mean, this isn't a trap of some kind?"
He looked to Dom, whose expression didn't inspire great confidence.
"I don't see how it can be," he said after a pause. "If my mother were to hurt you, or God forbid, kill you, it would only cause further problems down there. She's looking to quell any violence, not inspire it."
"But what if that's exactly what she's trying to do?" asked Merk. "Maybe this is just a good excuse to show her strength again, like in the cull. Forgive me, Master Domitian, but I no longer trust your mother's judgement. She isn't fully in her right mind."
Dom began to laugh, a pleasant relief.
"Oh no, Merk, she isn't. I think it's safe to say that is the greatest understatement this city has ever heard." He smiled wide, and sipped his cup. And behind the rim, Dom's eyes darkened. "Anyway, we have no choice, and Rufus will protect you," he went on. "Now, my job is to try to coach you in just what to say. The idea here, my old friend, is to be pragmatic. If you pander too much to the Empress, the people may turn on you. We don't want that, do we?"
Merk shook his head hurriedly.
"It's important," Dom continued, "to show that you're on their side. Which, obviously, you are. Tell them that the Empress is concerned about their wellbeing, and that she will pay closer attention to their needs in future."
"That's a littl
e vague, Master Domitian," remarked Rufus. "They need firm action, not just words."
"Right," Dom nodded. "Yes, you're right. Unfortunately, the Empress didn't give me any specifics. So, we'll have to make firm suggestions, without issuing promises that can't be kept. You've lived in Southside for years, Merk. You know the problems there better than most, and certainly better than I do. What is it that the people need?"
Dom and Rufus turned on the old man. He quivered for a moment under the spotlight.
"Um...more food," he said. The men nodded. "And better care taken of the streets. They're filthy, sir, packed with trash that attracts rats and all sorts of vermin. It stinks, and spreads disease like wildfire, especially during the hot summer months." His words began to pick up, a suggestion of passion and pride within them. "Closer to the Tiber, it's not so bad. It can be nice, actually. But the further South you go, and into the swamps, it's a cesspit. There's no community anymore. Kids run amok in gangs. They steal, and intimidate, and much worse when they need to. It's all with impunity, sir, because there's no one to stop them. And this has been going on for years, and these boys get older, and become men, and those men are dangerous. Crime is a real problem, but it comes from the poor sanitation and maintenance. And from the lack of food there, and the high prices that most people can't afford. I don't blame these people, sir. Some of them, many of them, have no choice. And this...this uprising, it was always going to happen. And all Vesper does is expect to be worshipped and thanked. And when she's not, she just cuts off heads and hangs people. What did she expect..."
His words ran free, and before he knew it, he'd gone on for a minute or more without hardly taking a breath. For a mild mannered man like Merk to get so flustered was rare. He had a energy for the topic that appeared to be ingrained, and he'd only just got started.
But he stopped nonetheless, and he looked at the two men across the table.
Dom was smiling.
"You see, Merk," he said. "You really do know about this more than I do. You know how it is. You can relate to the people. Now, you need to show them the other side. Show them that Southside, and the swamps in particular, will be given the help and support it needs to thrive." He reached over and patted the old man on the shoulder. "Oh, Merk, I'm sure you'll be just fine."
28
Merk didn't feel just fine the following morning.
He felt sick, his stomach all tied up in knots and his skin seeming to burn. It was a hot day, though no hotter than any other, and yet Merk was sweating like such a thing was going out of fashion. At this rate he'd shrivel up and die of dehydration before he ever stepped foot from the villa.
It was that thought - stepping foot from the villa - that was causing the reaction. Well, that, and the knowledge of what was to follow. Merk didn't like crowds, and didn't like attention. The coward in him, which had, over the years, taken greater control of his everyday actions, was now roaring to the fore once again.
He was on the threshold now, looking out across the yard as the gladiators were ushered to one side. Outside the gate beyond, the carriage was being prepared, ready to take him back to the streets he knew so well. He cradled his right hand, as he did when nervous, feeling the stumps of the two missing fingers that had served to define him in recent years. And then the call came, and along with a grouping of guards, dressed as civilians, he began moving across the yard and to his transport.
Dom was there too, of course, walking by his side and giving him a final pep talk as he went. Merk was struggling to listen, though, his mind preoccupied. He looked about the yard and saw Kira watching him, her eyes supportive and startlingly green under the morning sun.
They shared a brief connection before Merk moved his eyes away, always careful to avoid suspicion. Yet he did notice Gwyn standing by Kira's side, and Finn not too far off either. Each seemed to share the same gaze as they looked at him, something the other gladiators lacked.
Merk could pay it little mind, his attention quickly diverted as Dom's voice came flowing back into his head.
"Right, Merk, do yourself proud out there. I'll see you back here later to celebrate. You'll be a free man after this, and rewarded for your service..."
His voice was a little off, as though he didn't quite believe it. Given these promises came from the Empress, that was entirely understandable.
He reached the carriage and was helped aboard, climbing into the handsome and shaded interior. Rufus entered beside him, with another couple of guards doing the same. All were dressed in old robes to help them blend in, their weapons concealed and well hidden. For Rufus, it was a regular occurrence, often dressing this way during his information gathering trips to the south.
Today, though, his remit was protection. With a smile and wave from Dom, the carriage began rolling, and behind it, several more guards trotted along on horses. As with the men, the horses had been stripped of their fancy embellishments. Marching into Southside with an armoured cohort was not the impression Merk needed to make.
The little procession attracted little attention as it went, working down the wide, white marble streets and passing the beautifully carved and decorated structures at the centre of the city. Merk saw them only in glimpses as the curtain of the carriage fluttered in the breeze, shielding him from the masses as they churned about on the roads outside.
With Dom absent, the task of keeping Merk's head in the right place was down to Rufus. His experience of Southside and its denizens and politics made him a good man for the job, and perhaps better than the Prince himself. He'd journeyed there regularly and knew the place well, and was quite sure of the best squares for Merk to make his appearances.
And appearances they'd be, plural. Southside was a sprawling mess of a place, and if Merk wished to be successful in his endeavour, he'd need to complete a whistle-stop tour of the region's more populous and popular areas. On this first Sunday at the end of the opening week of the games, the squares would be spilling over with people. Even though there was trouble brewing, and some might be hiding away, Merk was sure to have quite the audience.
He hated the idea, of course. His life had been one of mockery, deflecting jibes and taunts and trying to deal with those that got through his armour. Many did, of course, turning Merk into the timid man he'd become. Yet recent events had shifted his fortunes somewhat, and now those insults and sneers had turned into high praise. Among the streets of Southside, Merk was fast becoming a legend.
Yet, they do say that it's never a good idea to meet your heroes. Inevitably, they'll let you down. And that was just what Merk was worried about.
They saw him in the arena, filled with great purpose in his final moments. He drew up every strand of bravery he had, and emptied his tank of courage. And yes, he stood up to that gladiator, but he got lucky in the process. That wasn't the real Merk. It was an aberration, a flash in the pan. And stepping into the light today, the cold, ugly reality of just who, and what, Merk was, would quickly seep through the masses.
That was his concern.
Before the old man knew it, the rushing water of the Tiber was sounding in his ears. Rufus peeked out from the curtain and quickly returned his eyes to the carriage's VIP.
"All right, Merk, get your game face on. We'll be reaching our first stop soon."
Merk's game face, apparently, was a coiled up look of anxiety.
"Relax, Merk," Rufus went on. "You know what to say. Just speak from the heart, and tell the people all will be well. It'll all go just fine, I'm sure of it."
Merk noticed Rufus' hand slip beneath his robes, reaching for the hilt of one of his concealed blades. The sight didn't give him much confidence.
Still, he had little time to dwell, because minutes later, the carriage was rolling into a grand square that Merk knew well. It was busy, but less so than usual, and the little convoy took a moment to get into position. Merk was ordered to stay in the carriage as Rufus stepped out and made arrangements. Already, the people were beginning to take notice as a small
stage was unfolded from the carriage's rear, and a little doorway was opening at its back. Merk watched from within as the doorway opened, giving him passage onto the little stage without ever having to step onto the street.
He could hear the murmuring already, the people taking position. As far as they knew, this could be some act, some form of entertainment. A bard, perhaps, or a jester of some kind.
Yet, times being what they were, it could conceivably be a detractor too, an overconfident and overzealous dissenter with a death wish. More and more, despite the beheadings and hangings, the more vocal among the residents of Southside had began to speak out, loudly and publicly, against the Empress. And while some were quietly taken away, others were left alone by her guards. In order to try to fashion some peace and avoid significant bloodshed, it was the only way to go.
And that was just why Merk was there.
With Rufus' head popping back through the curtain, the old man knew it was time. He nodded, and began to move through the little door, crouching as he went and then stepping into the light. It took a second for his eyes to grow accustomed to the sudden brightness having been locked tight in the carriage's dim interior. But when they did, and he opened his lids fully, he noticed that quite a grouping of men, women, and children were gathered around.
Now the whispers grew louder, as Merk stood there suddenly mute. The crowd were turning to each other, wondering. Was this Merk the Mighty? Was this the man who defied the Empress? Was he here, now, to tell of his tale, to speak out against her many crimes?
Such thoughts and whispers pervaded the crowd, and more quickly took notice. Before long, they were flocking, merely by the sight of the old man. He looked upon them, his voice caught in his throat, as his name began to be called out.
"Merk! It's Merk the Might!" they said.
The calls came louder, drawing more eyes. Soon enough, Rufus and his security team were needing to cajole the crowd into place to stop them from climbing about the stage. He looked up at Merk with stern eyes.