The Red Warrior: The Warrior Race, Book Two

by T. C. Edge

  He shared several intense glances with Rufus as he went, both men quite aware of the possible perils of the situation. They stepped out before the main marble staircase, and began working up towards the large palace doors. Dom's gaze swept past the guards on duty, one of whom tapped his spear on the wood, calling for it to make way.

  It did so, opening up from within, and into the sprawling hallway they went. As with his previous visit only days ago, Dom was greeted by a servant who looked upon Rufus in a manner of surprise.

  "Prince Domitian. You're expected in the throne room. Your, um, bodyguard must stay here."

  Dom stared the man down.

  "I'll leave that to my mother to decide," he said. "Rufus stays with me."

  His words were spat, causing the servant to nod subserviently and bow his head.

  Dom ventured onwards, Rufus walking beside him, his eyes spreading upon every inch of the vast space as they went. Dom was fully aware that Rufus had never been within these walls, and on first inspection they were always quite mesmerising. He could at least admit that, despite his growing aversion to the place.

  They took little time to reach the throne room, working up the main stairs and down a long, wide corridor, flanked all the way by beautiful paintings and frescos and wonderfully carved statues. It was all so very ornate, and so very sickly to Dom's sensibilities. His mother's garish devotion to the past was no longer appealing to him as it once was. She'd lost all his favour now, as she had the city. And this place summed it up so very well.

  He reached the doors at the end, and pressed right through without hesitation. Rufus kept a step behind and to one side, not fully armed as he might usually be, or dressed in the same sparse covering of armour. He was more officially draped, his weaponry concealed. And as they moved into the echoing hall, Dom was quite aware that he was swiftly computing their options, and possible chances of seeing the woman, seated in her throne, into the depths instead.

  Dom left that to his ally, though his own analysis led him to believe such an opportunity would not come now. For a start, Ares was there, right beside his mother, with several other Imperial Guards hovering about in the murky shadows. It was a fight Rufus could never win, and both men knew it.

  The air was tight in the room, and Dom's chest was equally so. As he moved forward, noting the smug smile upon the face of his mother, it was cut right through by an unpleasant sound. Even Vesper's voice now drew up a horrible, shivering reaction.

  "And what is he doing here?" she called out. "I will not have that man in my throne room. What is it, Domitian? Are you fearful of your safety? Do you believe you need a bodyguard here, safe in the palace you grew up in?"

  Dom glanced at Rufus. This wasn't the same as when he appeared in the royal gallery. This time, there was little precedent for Dom to bring anyone here with him. Each time Claud came, he stayed outside or in the entrance halls below. And Rufus must now too.

  "It's OK," Dom said. "Wait outside."

  Rufus knew not to hesitate. Such a thing might be telling. He left immediately, shutting the doors tight.

  "Good," called Vesper. "Now come closer, Domitian. We have things to discuss."

  Dom moved forward rigidly. His eyes took in the powerful form of Ares, a man he admired so much. How blinded must he have become to be party to all of this? How stiff must be his mother's grip on the man?

  "What do you want to discuss, mother," asked Dom as he got near.

  He didn't venture up the steps and greet her as he perhaps should. It wouldn't feel right now, after she'd essentially disowned him. Still, she looked like she expected it, as though their previous conversation had been forgotten.

  "Come up here, Domitian. Give your mother a kiss."

  He did as commanded, the gesture perfunctory and entirely without feeling. When he moved back down the steps, and turned to look at her again, her odd smile had returned, as if she enjoyed toying with him.

  He waited for her to speak. It took her some time to do so.

  "So, your man didn't do a great job now, did he?" she said suddenly. "I've heard all the reports over the last few days. And, well, my hand has been forced by your continued incompetence. Southside will see more violence than ever, I'm afraid to say. You...you have yourself to blame for that, Domitian."

  He stared at her blankly. He might have once been disbelieving, entirely shocked by this nonsense she was spouting. But no longer.

  "You're right," he said dispassionately. "My fault entirely."

  She leaned back.

  "You take the blame willingly?"

  "I can't rightly deny it, can I?"

  His answer was swift, equally flat.

  "Um, well, no you cannot. You have shirked responsibility all your life, and you need to bear it on this affair. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of people may now die because of the incompetence shown by this man of yours, Merk, and yourself. How do you feel about that, Domitian?"

  He shrugged, slowly. No words escaped him.

  She stiffened in her seat, her plump frame rubbing the sides.

  "Well I'll tell you, you should feel terrible. We were in agreement, were we not, that Southside had been underserved, and required more attention? You had the chance to make them see that we were doing all we could to help them and bring them aid. Now, well, we have people taking up arms against us, right there in the streets. The rebellion is madness, Domitian. It won't serve any end out there, but to see the streets bloodied. What a terrible thing."

  Dom watched with a suppressed smile. He could see the cracks appearing. He could smell the concern. This was clearly something she hadn't anticipated. Oh, the chickens were coming home to roost.

  And it was bloody glorious to behold.

  "To be honest, mother, it's not my issue anymore, is it? You have stripped me of all responsibility, haven't you?"

  "Ah, so that's what this is, is it? You're still angry about me creating a new heir? Oh Domitian, I thought it was what you wanted, to be free of your responsibility to me, and to the city? You never wanted to rule, did you? This frees you from that burden, my love."

  "Yes, it does," said Dom. "So, I say again, this isn't really my problem. Yes, of course I'm sorry that people will die, but let's be honest, it's only Southside. All major cities in history have had poor parts where the people are forgotten and ill-treated. Neorome is no different, and if they're going to take up arms against you, then so be it. Soon enough, I'll be banished. So I honestly don't care."

  He kept his gaze straight on his mother, and hers stayed on him. Her eyes then failed her, flickering left, and coming to life for a moment. It was as though the mother inside her was breaking free, just for that split second, before being suppressed again by the demons in her head.

  "You honestly think I want to exile you, Domitian?" she asked, returning her gaze. "You have made this situation impossible for me. I have to make you see, my darling. You are my son, and that will never change. And whatever happens between us, I'll always love you. You do...believe me, don't you?"

  She sounded earnest. She sounded real. And as with her eyes, fleetingly flashing to life, some semblance of love for her flashed within Dom again too. He felt ashamed, suddenly, for wishing her dead, and plotting to overthrow her. But as with the spectres in her mind, taking control of her once more, so the same ghouls grew within Dom, drawing the sudden warmth from his heart.

  He looked at her, and he lied.

  "I believe you, mother," is all he said.

  It seemed to appease her, or the part of her, at least, that needed appeasing. There was a battle raging in her, and the mother Dom new was all but overthrown herself, defeated by the demons who now held dominion.

  And though those demons took command, Dom had to wonder whether he'd done enough. Had he failed her, these last years, by letting her get this far from who she once was? Was there anything left, any light he could seek out, some remaining branch to cling to, to draw her back from the brink?

  It was a dangerous
query to pose. It would only weaken his resolve. And when he set his gaze on her again, he knew she was gone forever.

  A wicked set of eyes now fell upon him, and her lips curled up, thin and pale.

  "Now," she said. "On to the other piece of business."

  She raised her eyes behind him, and Dom heard the doors being opened up. He looked down through the long hall, and saw Lucius coming forward, his nose slightly swollen and eyes slightly blackened. The doors were shut, dismissing the brief glimpse Dom got of Rufus, hovering beyond, and his old friend continued forward, eyes hidden in shadow.

  "Good afternoon, Lucius," said Vesper, gesturing for him to come forward and stop beside Dom. "How is the nose? It doesn't look good."

  "It's...on the mend, Empress," said Lucius, refusing to meet Dom's stiff glare.

  Vesper noticed, and laughed.

  "Oh, you two. I remember when you were such close friends, always at play as children, chasing girls when you got a little older."

  Dom looked up at her.

  "Can we get this over with," he said.

  "Tut tut, Domitian," said Vesper. "We must observe official protocol. Obviously, we all know what happened two nights ago in your villa. As the injured party, Lucius is within his rights to set out an appropriate punishment, and decide an appropriate date for said punishment. Lucius, over to you."

  Dom swerved his gaze right. Lucius' eyes were still low.

  "I...I have thought...long and hard," he started.

  Dom cut him off.

  "You don't have to do this, Lucius," he said. "You don't have to do what she tells you."

  Lucius glanced at Dom, but nothing more. He cleared his throat and went on.

  "Um, as I was saying. I...I've thought long and hard, and I wish Kira to be...executed."

  "Lucius," whispered Dom. "You know that's not fair. You know you set her up..."

  "Domitian, let him speak," growled Vesper's voice. "Stop interfering with the poor young man. Can't you see he's had a harrowing experience, brutalised by that beastly girl."

  "Brutalised," repeated Dom, struggling now to contain himself. "You really are a piece of work, aren't you...Vesper," spat Dom. "Even that stupid name you took for yourself...it sums you up perfectly. How false you are, a shadow of the past..."

  Her eyes flared, and she half stood from her throne. Dom stood his ground, though withdrew his tingling tongue. He wanted to say more, so much more. He wanted to tear her apart.

  But he held back any further words, knowing they could see him dead. The flash of the mother he'd known had been completely gobbled up. This person was inhuman, the devil in his mother's skin.

  Slowly, she sat herself back down, her lips quivering. Then she covered it all with a smile, and a hearty, sudden laugh.

  "Now, Lucius, please do continue. You wish for Kira to be executed. So be it. When would you like this to take place?"

  Lucius's eyes stayed quite low, afraid to lift.

  "As soon as possible, Empress."

  Vesper clapped.

  "Well, of course! Let's be rid of her as soon as we can, yes? The rains have cleared, and the groundsmen are hard at work making the arena ready. Tomorrow it shall be, midday, before the games resume once more. The whole city will witness that horrible girl's end. What a way to restart things after this dreadful storm."

  She laughed through her words, cackling like the witch she was. No one else within the room reacted. No one moved, or smiled, or dared shift their gaze. Only Dom had that courage, staring daggers and glancing at Ares beyond the demon's shoulder. And, for the first time, he saw a crinkle of doubt crease his iron-built face.

  "Now, now, this is such fun," continued Vesper, chortling wildly. "But we have one final thing to decide. Less than 24 hours before that girl is gone, and we need to determine how it shall be done. Lucius, your prerogative once more. How would you like to see that monster slain?"

  Dom's heart was now rattling. He half turned to Lucius, and whispered across to him, appealing to the good nature that remained. His mother was gone, but Lucius was worth saving. His old friend, old brother, was still in there. Somewhere.

  "Please, Lucius, make it quick. Don't let her suffer. Please..." he said.

  Lucius' looked across at Dom again. His eyes were bloodshot, crafted in doubt. He was being controlled, Dom knew that. And as with everything else, he couldn't rightly deny Vesper's requests.

  "I'm sorry, Dom," he whispered.

  "Come now, Lucius!" called Vesper. "Spit it out. Let's make this official."

  Lucius nodded. He took a shaky breath.

  "I...I would like for Kira to be killed," he said, his voice trembling through the hall, "by a former champion."

  Vesper's lips parted, and her brows drew up in comical fashion.

  "Oh, really?" she said, playing her part. "Hmmmm, an excellent choice. Now, who should that great honour go to?"

  Lucius looked over at Dom again. Dom shook his head gently.

  "Don't say it," he whispered. "Don't do it."

  Lucius looked away, and spoke to his feet.

  "Rufus," he whispered. "I'd like the champion to be Rufus."

  37

  A cackle of joy chased Dom out of the room. It spread and echoed all through the palace as he marched down corridors and through grand halls, Rufus hurrying behind him as he went.

  "How did it go, sir?" asked his loyal instructor. "What happened?"

  He had to ask several times, and Dom's answer was merely to shake his head and hurry on. He was trying to avoid it until he reached the exit and stepped out onto the sparkling marble stairs, still wet with a covering of residue from the storm. The sun shone down, warm and bright, and Dom stretched his legs quickly for the carriage, gesturing for it to prepare to leave.

  His guards hopped onto their horses, and Dom climbed behind the curtain. He sat down and stared into space as Rufus climbed in opposite him, the wagon's wheels beginning to roll and take them away from this wicked place.

  "Dom, look at me," said Rufus once more. "Tell me what happened in there. Are you...under threat? Did your mother say something. Does she know about..."

  "No," said Dom suddenly, his voice finding its feet. "She knows nothing."

  He turned his eyes up now, and stared at his trainer.

  "It's Kira," he said, filling his lungs. "You're set to be the one to execute her."

  Rufus' gaze didn't change for a moment. He merely stared, computing the information. Neither man spoke for a time, the carriage rolling quietly over the cobbles and pave stones. And by the time they returned to the ludus, not another word had been uttered.

  They walked silently inside, the afternoon chased off now and evening beginning to approach. Dom set his thoughts on a full glass of wine, hunting down the nearest servant to bring him some. He reached the first floor and saw Silia.

  "Wine, Silia," he demanded.

  She reacted immediately, scurrying to collect a goblet and flask. She set it into his hand and he poured the contents down his throat. He held the goblet out to be refilled. More smooth red liquid calmed his throbbing mind.

  And all the while, Rufus was nearby. And in deep thought.

  Dom moved towards the balcony, taking the flask from Silia's hands. He stepped out into the light, and his instructor followed in silence. The master of the household planted himself down heavily, still shaking his head, still hating the world. He was half way through his third full glass when Rufus finally spoke.

  "When is the execution to take place?" he asked gently.

  Dom could barely look at him.

  "Midday," he said through a heavy breath. His thoughts were scattered, the wine not helping. He was firmly considering the idea of letting Kira leave, or helping her from this place.

  And Rufus knew it.

  "There's nothing you can do, Dom," he said calmly. "You cannot help her."

  "But...I can," Dom grimaced, now looking at his friend in pain. "I can help her. I can free her, Rufus..."

 
"And condemn yourself, and the rest of us, in the process. We've gone over this already. There's too much at stake, and you're far too important. You have to let this play out, sir. You have to trust me." Rufus smiled, shallow and weak. "I'll sort this out. Just promise me one thing?"

  Dom looked up, his chin hanging low.

  "What, Rufus?" he asked through a whisper.

  Rufus' sleek, feline gaze ensnared his master.

  "Promise me that, whatever happens, you will not interfere."

  He held Dom's eyes until they blinked slowly, and his chin dipped into a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

  "I...should at least tell her," said Dom. "I owe her that."

  "Sir, I don't advise it. What good will it do?"

  "No good," said Dom. "But it's the right thing. It's my responsibility."

  His eyes were clouding, his posture sinking. Rufus looked upon him in pity, but couldn't rightly deny him.

  "You're the Prince of this city," he said. "And the Master of this ludus. You do what you think is best."

  Dom nodded, and stood, grabbing the flask of wine in his hand. He left Rufus on the balcony, stepping anxiously off through the hall and down the corridor where Kira had been set. He stopped outside her room and drew in a breath, before gently knocking on the wood.

  "Come in, Dom," he heard the voice inside say.

  He opened the door up and saw Kira sitting up on her bed. He moved in and shut the door behind him.

  "You knew it was me?"

  She shrugged.

  "I know your smell, and your step," she said. "Usually, the scent of wine is a good precursor to your arrival."

  She smiled, and Dom's resolve weakened. He headed quickly for a table at the side of the room and poured two further cups of wine. He left the flask there, already half empty, and moved over to the bed. He set a cup in her hand, their fingers touching briefly, and a shiver faded up his spine.

  "So, it's official then?" Kira asked calmly.

  Dom looked at her.

  "Did you...hear my conversation? With Rufus?"

  She shook her head.