Rise of the Wolf

by Jennifer A. Nielsen

  "I'm sorry." I'd been so wrapped up in my own rebellion and troubles that I hadn't taken the time to consider that she had troubles too, in some ways worse than mine. "I didn't know."

  "Let me help you in the race tomorrow."

  I looked around the area, even though it was late at night and we were still far from the main roads.

  "All right, I said. "I have an idea, but give me a few hours to work on it."

  And from there, she let me have my silence to begin thinking. Once we got into town, I asked if we could stop by the stables at the circus to check on Radulf's new horses, just to make sure they'd been bedded down properly for the night. Normally they'd be corralled at Radulf's home, but they had to be here for the first race in the morning and I wouldn't leave their care to some indifferent servant, or worse, a servant who preferred to see someone else win tomorrow.

  Livia agreed, and we made our way there. But from the moment that we entered the stables, I knew something was wrong. The stall doors for Radulf's horses were wide open.

  I leapt off Callistus's back and ran to them. Curse tablets had been nailed to every spare inch of the doors, and most horrifying of all, the stables were empty. The horses had escaped.

  No, they didn't leave on their own. My horses had been stolen.

  Furious, I kicked at a nearby water bucket. Magic went with it, sending the bucket much farther than it ever should've gone. If I wanted to see the ends of the Roman Empire, all I had to do was follow that bucket.

  Instantly, Livia was beside me with a hand on my arm, though I wasn't sure if she was giving comfort or hoping to receive it. I didn't want her to see the curse tablets with my name scrawled into the lead, because she already worried too much. But my thoughts were flying apart, and it didn't matter now. Anyone could look at me and know the curses had done their job.

  "Who did this?" She didn't speak with worry, or fear. Livia was angry. "Nic, who took your horses?"

  I didn't know. It was no accident -- the curse tablets made that clear. It might've been one of the other factions, or for that matter, it might've been my own faction, ensuring I did not race with them tomorrow. Or most likely, it was the Praetors. If I forfeited the race for any reason, that would be counted as a loss.

  "It makes no difference," I said, already feeling defeated. "They're gone."

  "What about the horses you rode before? Radulf still has them, I think."

  "He does, though they've got no chance to win. They're fast enough for an ordinary race, maybe, but not for what's coming tomorrow."

  "They'll have to be enough," Livia said.

  I walked her back to Callistus. "Take him home and tell Radulf what's happened. He'll have his servants bring the old horses here by morning."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I'll try to find the ones that were lost." Though I already knew it was futile. The horses had not wandered off and would not be left within miles of this place, or anywhere I might find them.

  Once she was in the saddle, I whispered instructions to Callistus to get my sister home safely. After they rode away, I checked every other stall in the stables, just in case there had been some mistake. I knew there wasn't. Nobody accidentally nailed those tablets to the stable door, just as my horses had not accidentally released themselves.

  But the fact was, I had no idea what else to do. And when I failed to find my horses in the stables, I merely walked back to the stall where they should have been and slid against one post down to the ground. If magic was strong enough to solve this problem, I couldn't figure out how, and certainly my mind was even weaker for coming up with any solution.

  Radulf would send his old team of horses, just as I had asked. But they hadn't been run for two days, and even in their best condition, they wouldn't bring me across the finish line first.

  After a while, I gave up any hope for tomorrow's race or of finding the horses, and shifted my thinking to Livia's request to help me. She'd be talking to Radulf by now, and that certainly was helpful, but that wasn't the kind of help she had meant. She wanted to make a difference tomorrow. And no matter how much practice I had put in since bargaining with the Praetors, the reality was that my hopes of winning were not as good as they had seemed even an hour ago.

  But though I had promised not to use magic to help me win the race, I had never promised not to use magic to get the Malice. It would have to be stolen from Atroxia's cold grip, if necessary. And it'd have to happen before I completed the race, just in case things went badly.

  I didn't want to return to Radulf's house, or to stay with Crispus. So I remained in the stables and eventually fell asleep in the stalls where my horses should have been. I was awoken that morning with a kick to my legs.

  Theon stood before me, the red faction leader who had given me the black eye earlier. Considering that, I was lucky he hadn't kicked any harder than he did.

  "So the general's grandson spent his night like a slave," Theon said. "How appropriate."

  "We have nothing to discuss," I said grumpily. "I'm not riding with the reds anymore."

  He peeked in the empty stall behind me. "It looks like you're not riding at all."

  "They're at the baths, getting massages. I'm sure they'll return soon." I glanced around. "You've come with no horses either. Aren't you riding?"

  Theon licked his lips. "My position was bought out. Every faction had their positions bought out. Except for you."

  My eyes narrowed. "Who bought them?"

  He grinned. "Faster charioteers than you, I'm certain. I'd wish you luck in the race, but somehow, I don't think that will help."

  He left in one direction, and I went in the other. Radulf's men would be here soon with my original team of horses. A team that could never give me a victory.

  Once I came to a clearing, I put out a silent call for help. But I was interrupted by Livia calling my name from back at the stables. I ran that way and saw her there with Radulf, two of his servants, and the older team of horses.

  Radulf didn't scold me, either for being gone all night or for the loss of his prize horses, both of which I had expected. He only walked up to me and said, "Are you ready for this?"

  Of course I wasn't, and he knew that.

  He nodded toward the stables. "The Praetors stole them."

  "I know."

  "They're willing to cheat to win. I'll tell you one more time, Nic. You must cheat too. It's your only choice now."

  "I won't."

  "Your life is at stake!"

  "That's why I can't cheat!" I sighed and took a few steps back. "If I don't earn this win fairly, then they won't respect our terms and we'll be right back where we were before."

  "You won't be back where you were before, because you won't win." Radulf motioned toward the horses. "This team is fast, but not fast enough."

  "Have your men strip down the chariot to as little as possible. I don't want to carry any more weight than is necessary."

  "That chariot protects you in the race."

  My smile was grim. "No chariot can protect me today. Strip it down."

  When Radulf left to put his servants to work on the chariot, Livia came forward and unfolded a new tunic, one with such a deep yellow color that it almost looked woven in gold. The edges were stitched with symbols of the gods: Jupiter's lightning bolt, Neptune's trident, the spear of Mars, and Minerva's shield. Diana's bow was missing from the symbols.

  "Where did you get this?" I asked. The tunic's weave was so fine, I hardly dared touch it, much less to breathe on it.

  "Since you're not with the red faction anymore, Radulf had this made for you last night. He wanted you to appear on the track as your own faction, with your own color."

  I glanced over at Radulf, who had been watching Livia and me. I held up the tunic and nodded gratefully to him. It was the first respectful nod I'd ever given him, and I admit that it was good to feel like he and I were truly on the same side.

  "Nic! There you are!" Crispus came running over. H
is eyes widened when he saw the tunic. "Where did you get that?"

  "From our grandfather," Livia said. "The pads for his knees and wrists match the colors, though we didn't have time to get a new helmet."

  "I've never seen its equal." Crispus smiled as he brushed a hand across the cloth. "If that tunic is any sign of things to come, it's going to be a good day."

  My smile at him was even more hopeless than before. Fine as the tunic was, I doubted it could be taken as a sign of anything more than Radulf's willingness to spend a great deal of money on me. Maybe his generosity was its own form of luck, I supposed.

  Livia said, "Maybe you'll feel better when properly dressed. Wearing the clothes of a victor."

  I nodded and walked around to the back of the stables, then changed into the new tunic. The weave was strong, and the stitching seemed flawless. The bulla against the cloth was such a close match that they practically blended together. If it weren't for the bulla's strap, from a distance, no one would know I had it. Livia was right: I did feel better wearing this.

  And I would have continued feeling better if I hadn't walked out in time to see Decimas Brutus and at least another dozen Praetors coming into the stables.

  "Nicolas Calva!" Brutus boomed. "Look at you this fine morning. Didn't anyone tell you that dressing like a winner doesn't make you one?"

  "It seems to work for you dressing like a loser," I said. From the corner of my eye, Radulf grimaced. Or perhaps he smiled a little. I could've sworn he did.

  Brutus brushed off my insult with an annoyed glare. "They told me I could find you here. Has it been four days already?"

  Radulf stepped in front of me. "He owes you a race, not a conversation."

  Brutus pushed past him. "I didn't come here to start a fight, General Radulf, and don't expect one from your grandson. I simply want to verify the terms of this race."

  I walked forward, flanked by Crispus on one side and Livia on the other. I wished Aurelia could be here too. This didn't feel right without her.

  I said, "The terms have not changed. If I win this race, you will release my mother and give up any bid for me. You and I will never speak again."

  He smiled. "And if I win, then you will turn over the key to the Malice, and put yourself and your magic under my control."

  "Seven laps," I said. "You choose your horses, and I'll choose mine."

  He glanced at my horses and laughed. "Them? They're your choice?"

  "Not at all." I grinned, and enjoyed watching the smile fade on his face. Radulf looked equally confused, but I hadn't wanted to say anything to him until my silent request was answered. And at hearing the sound approaching from a distance, I knew my answer had arrived. Callistus entered the stables, brushing roughly against Brutus as he passed him and then came to stand beside me.

  Callistus. I intended to race with a unicorn.

  After he got over the initial shock of seeing an animal of the gods, it took Brutus's face less than a second to go completely purple with rage. "This is not a horse!"

  "A unicorn is one of many breeds of horses," I said. "The favored breed of the gods, I would guess."

  "No one can race chariots with a unicorn," Brutus sputtered. "It's not allowed."

  Radulf smiled over at me, as proud as I'd ever seen him. "Which rule forbids a charioteer to use a unicorn?"

  "Every charioteer has a team of four horses --"

  "Up to four," Radulf said. "Nothing forbids Nic from riding with fewer."

  Brutus excused himself, and the Praetors closed into a tight circle for a discussion that was loudly punctuated by more than a few curses against both me and Radulf. We only smiled at each other. I knew this was as irritating to them as an outbreak of lice, but in the end, they would not be able to challenge it. Callistus was qualified to race, and even if they went to the emperor himself, they would not be able to stop me.

  Finally, Brutus separated from the other Praetors and walked back over to me. "Your unicorn will race, then. But when my charioteers come at you on the track, and trust me, they will, it will not be my fault if your ... horse ... is injured beyond saving."

  "Charioteers?" Radulf asked. "You are allowed only one competitor against Nic. Whichever of the two crosses the finish line first is the victor."

  "Yes, I know that, but in the Ludi Romani, there are twelve teams who race." Brutus nodded to the Praetors. "Have the charioteers brought in."

  Radulf pulled me aside. "They're going to bring in the strongest racers they can find, but there's only one that you must defeat. The rest are simply meant to intimidate or scare you. Don't let them."

  "I won't," I said, which wasn't exactly true. Even with Callistus for my team, I was already plenty scared.

  And just as Radulf had warned, the charioteers who came to the stables looked like monuments of muscle and cruelty. Some were quite large -- they'd weigh down their chariots like boulders, but their purpose obviously wasn't winning. They were to make sure I didn't. Some of them were lighter on their feet, but every cut of their body was chiseled in strength. Based on appearances alone, any of them had a chance of coming in ahead of me.

  "These are none of Rome's usual charioteers," Radulf said. "Where did you find them?"

  "They are slaves, all of them," Brutus said. "Some were collected from the rowboats, others are builders, and others are charioteers who have won great victories elsewhere in the empire."

  My heart pounded. If he had chosen slaves, then I could already guess at their agreement. Anyone who knocked me off my chariot would be given his freedom. Anyone who failed would be given death. Their motives to win were just as desperate as mine.

  "This is a waste of time," Radulf said. "Nic does not have to defeat them all, only the one you have chosen. Which one is that?"

  I counted them. Ten charioteers. I was the eleventh. Who was the twelfth?

  Near me, Crispus had been doing the same. He stepped forward. "You're missing one."

  "Am I?" Brutus looked back at his men as if surprised, though he obviously wasn't. "Well, before I bring out my final charioteer, I want to finalize the last term of our agreement." His eyes fell upon my bulla.

  "I won't use magic," I said. "I'll keep my promise."

  "How will I know that?"

  "The magic I do is never subtle," I said. "If I use magic, you'll know it."

  Brutus stepped closer to me. "If you use magic, if even a scent of it is released in that race, it will be an automatic loss."

  I glanced at Radulf, whose mouth was pressed in a tight line. I knew he wanted to dispute this rule, but I didn't see how we had any chance of winning the argument. With magic, my victory would be assured from the beginning, meaning there was no reason for the Praetors to compete.

  "No magic," I promised. "Now, let me see the Praetor I have to defeat. Because so far, you've shown me no one who's any threat. They're too big to even catch the dust from my wheels."

  I didn't mean any of that. The truth was that any of these men was a significant threat to me, both to my safety and my chances of winning. And if these were the ones that Brutus didn't want to use, then I worried about the person he had chosen.

  Brutus smiled. "The twelfth charioteer is no Praetor and, in fact, isn't really a charioteer at all. But my racer is highly motivated to win. If she fails, then she will die."

  My heart sank. "She?"

  Two more Praetors rounded the corner, and between them was Aurelia. Her hands were chained, and her eyes were wild with fury as she resisted their pushing her forward. That is, until she saw me, and then a tear rolled down her cheek and she shook her head as an apology.

  Aurelia had been chosen for the race, perhaps the only competitor who could have sent my head spinning. Because now, I genuinely had no idea what to do. I had to win, or else the empire would collapse, and a war would be launched between the gods. I would lose everything.

  But she had to win, or she would be dead. And then I would lose even more.

  I rushed forward, my enti
re body filled with magic. "No!" I yelled at Brutus. "This is not what we agreed!"

  Radulf caught me and pressed me back. "We can't fight here, Nic."

  "I won't race against her!"

  "There's no choice." Radulf shook me to get my attention. "They're within the terms of their bargain."

  "I never agreed to this." Panic swelled inside me. "Not to this!"

  "I'm sorry, Nic," Aurelia said.

  The Praetor beside her put his sword to her chest. "You were warned not to talk, girl."

  When he swung it back, without even thinking, I sent a burst of magic to him, dropping him to the ground like a swatted fly. Maybe it was only a threat, but I didn't care. In response, every other Praetor withdrew their weapons, half of them aimed at Aurelia. I couldn't even focus on where the others were aimed.

  "Lower your swords," Radulf said. "Brutus, this girl is a Roman citizen. You cannot force her to race, or punish her if she fails."

  "I am a judge in Rome," he said. "She is a criminal accused of helping your grandson escape his master two months ago. I believe my fellow Praetors will support my interpretation of the law."

  "No!" I shouted. "You cannot get away with this!"

  "Test me." Brutus's coal eyes became even darker. "I dare you to test me, Nicolas."

  "Not here, not now," Radulf said. "We accept the terms!"

  I looked at him, angry enough to send magic his way too, but he shook his head, warning me to back down.

  "They have her, and they have your mother," Radulf said. "If this is the number of Praetors that we can see, then you can bet half the stands are filled with more of them. There will not be another chance to bargain with them. If you want to save your mother, you must race."

  I shook my head, begging him to give me another solution, but it was clear that he didn't have one. Brutus gave us a deep mocking bow and said he would be waiting to meet me again at the finish line. Aurelia was dragged away without being allowed to say even a word.