Wolf’s Empire: Gladiator (24 page)

Then I'd wake, sweating, the paralysis lingering for a few seconds until I could move freely again. As I continued to experience the same nightmare each night, the dreams that preceded it seemed to fade, losing fidelity, until, on waking, I couldn't recall them at all.

As the final chariot session of the week started up, I targeted Licinus to see if I could push him beyond his limits. Licinus' war chain snaked out toward me, and I raised Orbis to ward it away, but the chain folded around the point of contact, trapping my weapon. The team leader tried to jerk me from the chariot, but I locked Orbis to the central post of my chariot so that Licinus instead would be pulled to the deck. It was a sure thing, only it didn't work. With the power of Castor's chariot pulling at him, Licinus wound his whip around his arm, braced himself, and pulled with all his strength. Everyone was astonished to see the central pole of our chariot bend and then snap in two. It was an amazing feat of physical strength, and the result was that the whip pulled free and still caught me and knocked me to the ground. The end of the round found me flat on my back, struggling to breathe, Licinus' boot pressing on my throat, threatening to crush my larynx and kill me. He didn't, though, and even as I lay there, red-faced and struggling for air, I knew my risk had paid off. His hands were trembling, his face pallid, skin tinged yellow. I'd pushed him hard and learned the limits to his strength.

One week down, and although surviving was no small accomplishment, I still needed to know more. Challenging Licinus had been a great risk; if I pushed him too far, Aulus would be killed. Over the course of the week I'd grown closer to Julia, and that night I decided to try and ferret out what she knew about the Hawks that might be of use.

“The other day you said you couldn't talk about Licinus or the other Sertorian gladiators…” I started.

“Really. Can't say a thing.”

She tapped a code into a locked panel on the end of her toolbox. She thought she was quick but I picked up the combination and stored it away for future reference. From the compartment Julia drew out a small, square device. Putting it on the floor, she tapped its surface, and it began to emit a soft blue glow.

“Yep, couldn't say a thing, that is, if I didn't happen to have one of these little beauties.”

“A privacy cube?” I said.

“Yeah. It samples our voices and generates random conversation based on things we've already said. At the same time, it jams any listening devices in a ten-foot radius.

“The day after you came and bunked here, I had the deck officer say he'd force me into a new career as a lady of Venus if I talked about anything that went on aboard the ship before you arrived.”

“Really?” That piqued my interest.

“Really that they said they'd force me into prostitution or really that they didn't want me to say anything?” she said with a smile.

“Why would you tell me anything if the Sertorians told you not to? They'll flog you if they catch you, to death most likely.”

“Oh, I've done much worse and got away with it. I know how to cover my tracks. You don't have to worry about me, but you should definitely worry about you. Go on, we don't have much time. If the cube cycles around the same topic too many times, they might become suspicious. What do you want to know? They don't let me in on their secrets or anything, but I see what I see.”

I was on dangerous ground but felt that if I wanted to learn something new from her I had to take a risk opening up and sharing some of my observations.

“I've been trying to improve, but they're just too strong. I can't help but think that they're taking some kind of supplement,” I said.

“You noticed the yellow skin and shaky hands, huh?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“They're on something, all right,” she said. “Licinus wasn't much faster than you until a few months back. That's when he really started moving like lightning. The other Sertorians, too. All the immunes noticed, how could you not?”

“When they're tired they leave the arena right away. Do you know where they go? Maybe to rest at the baths or in their quarters?”

She shook her head. “They go to Licinus' quarters.”

“Really? All of them?”

“All of them. They might leave at different times but that's where they all end up. Every time. It's a running joke among the immunes, wondering what goes on in there.”

I certainly did.

“It's weird, right?” Julia went on.

I wondered if the substance they were taking was the ambrosia my uncle spoke of but discounted the thought. Ambrosia had been impressive enough to get the Arrians to switch sides, and it would take more than a performance supplement to do that, even one as impressive as this.

That night I lay in my bunk, overtired, turning things around in my mind.

“Tell me, do you know the story of the Trojan horse?” my uncle had asked that night aboard his trireme.

“Of course.”

“Tell it to me.”

“I'm not in the mood for stories,” I said.

“Please, humor me.”

“The Greeks left a huge, hollow wooden horse outside Troy's impregnable walls, claiming it was a peace offering. When the Trojans took it inside their city, the warriors hidden within sneaked out and slaughtered the sleeping Trojan soldiers.”

“Precisely. I want you to become a double agent—my very own Trojan horse. Find out where they're keeping Aulus by midway through the contest, and I'll whisk him to safety. Then, dear niece, the remainder of the games will be your reward. Pick off the Sertorian team from within and kill them, each and every one. With the Blood Hawks dead, you can switch back to the Viridian team (don't worry, I've already cleared it with Vibius Viridius Carbo, the team leader, though he is the only one who knows you're working for me). You can reclaim your honor in the eyes of your house and the Roman people as you help the Golden Wolves win the tournament. No one's pulled off a successful double cross in decades—the audience will go crazy for it. After that, we'll be the chosen house of the emperor and everything will unravel for the Sertorians, they'll be finished. With no victory and no ambrosia, their allies will turn on them…”

“And their proconsul, Aquilinus, will be assassinated by his own men for failing,” I finished.

“You understand the Sertorians well, dear niece. They can't abide weakness. We'll crush them from without and within, but it all relies on you, Accala.”

My uncle's plan had seemed straightforward at the time, but the Sertorians' unexpected prowess now posed a massive stumbling block. If I couldn't find some way to weaken the Blood Hawks before the games started, there wouldn't be any Caninine teams to defect to after I found my brother; they'd all be dead within the first week.

XII

W
EEK TWO HERALDED THE
commencement of bestiarii training. Aside from my need to please Licinus and keep my place on the team, I started working on a strategy to break into his quarters. It wouldn't be easy, not by a long shot. I'd noticed Crassus' armilla chiming before the door to his quarters opened—the security codes for each cabin were stored on its occupant's armilla. If there were something valuable in there, it would most likely be hidden, so I'd need uninterrupted time to search. Since I was only ever taken from my cabin to the gym and back again, I would have to trick my Iceni body slave in such a way that she, or anyone else for that matter, never knew I had slipped out. Nothing was simple.

Mania lectured us each morning on the geography of Olympus Decimus and the indigenous species we were most likely to encounter as we traversed the tournament course. Her childlike tone dropped away as she got down to the business of sharing her expertise on barbarians and their habitats. A large topographic projection showed in detail the vast mountain range that ran the breadth of the arena world's lone continental landmass like the spine of a great animal. On either side of the mountains were forests of crystalline trees and, surrounding them, countless miles of tundra that alternated between ranges of low hills and dead flat land. Strong winds and icy snowstorms were the norm, with temperatures seldom rising above freezing due to the planet's distance from its golden sun.

The indigenous barbarians we'd most likely encounter were the Hyperboreans, the name the ancient Greeks gave to the people who lived beyond the North Wind. A new holographic projection was cast before us, a thin, crystalline humanoid with four arms—two ending in clawlike hands, and two ending in sharp ice-pick-like blades for cutting and shaping ice. The Hyperborean in the projection was about five feet tall and had chiseled, simple humanoid features, with clear, shining vertical slits for eyes, and a bridgelike nose with diagonal grooves carved on the sides. It had no mouth and could not speak. Mania explained that the horizontal slit vents where a human mouth would be aided nutrient absorption from the atmosphere and filtered impurities. Long, sharp white filaments that resembled hair extended from its scalp to serve as atmospheric sensors, reading weather, allowing it to pick up vibration and movement. Its body was pale blue and reflected light like diamonds or ice. Within its torso a vaporous fluid, almost a gas, swirled about. Mania said that this was like blood to them. The nutrients they absorbed from the atmosphere were processed in their torso before being allocated to their different bodily functions as required.

“The Hyperboreans have much in common with bees in terms of their traits and psychology,” Mania said. “Their primitive society can be roughly divided into two castes—warriors and workers. They are sexless and have neither male nor female forms. It is unknown how they reproduce.”

“That is a worker,” Mania said, gesturing toward the projection. “They're thin and feeble. You can shatter their torso with a single strike; the liquid gas you see swirling around escapes and they die. They avoid conflict if they can, and focus on collecting nutrients and carrying them into their hives. Now, this is a warrior.”

A new image formed. A creature similar to the one we'd just seen except three times the bulk and twice the height. It had retractable spines along its arms, chest, and back, which looked sharp and deadly. “Now, these are a bit more trouble. They're territorial and they protect the workers and the hive. Their crystalline shell acts as a natural armor that will repel most weapons. Some of the larger specimens can fire darts of crystal from the arms and torso.” Mania told us how she had worked with the Vulcaneum immunes to install X-ray scanners in our helmets that would reveal weaknesses in the crystalline structures of the barbarians' bodies. “In general the weakest place, and that means the best place to strike, is the neck. A lancing attack, a fast in and out with a sharp point, will do the trick. Make a big enough hole and their life fluids and internal gases will escape, but don't let your guard drop; even after a fatal strike, they can still continue fighting for several minutes.”

I studied the image of the warrior, and despite its fearsome countenance, it didn't frighten me at all. My morning cup of tisane had dispelled any fear and I felt bright and alert. I wasn't even bothered by Mania's presence, needle knives strapped at her waist. When she caught me looking at them, she flashed me a pretty smile. She'd mentioned dreams when we were in the shuttlecraft. Could she really pick through mine as a crow picked at a carcass?

Next came the beast-hunting practice with Licinus.

“The weakest man from each team will be the first to brave today's course,” Licinus said when we were gathered in the gym. “Or should I say the weakest bitch. That's right, Mock Wolf. That means you. Again.”

And it meant Lurco as well.

The terraform blocks had been reassembled, transforming the gymnasium into a new configuration—a maze was created, with dead ends and misdirecting paths. In place of rocky outcroppings, the projectors gave the blocks the appearance of continuous shining walls of crystal.

“What's in there?” Lurco asked.

“It's a surprise,” Licinus replied. “Now get a move on, you blockheaded jackass.”

“I'll give you a clue,” Barbata said. “There are several paths out of the maze, but only one is safe.”

I wasn't sure her advice would be helpful at all.

“Try not to die,” Mania chimed cheerfully, her girlish voice returned.

Lurco and I took up our weapons and moved to the maze entrance. A corridor ran fifteen feet and then split into left and right paths. The rest of the team had gathered in the viewing gallery on the gantry above, enjoying the aerial perspective that we were denied on the ground. They could watch us blunder into whatever surprises Licinus had planned. Lurco and I looked at each other uneasily as we entered the maze. As much as he hated me, I had the sense that we were in this together, both apprehensive.

The first path to the left was a dead end occupied by one of the black steel cages I had seen when we first boarded. The cage door was open, and whatever barbarian had lain within it was gone.

From the shadow behind the cage a black, fast-moving humanoid came rushing at us, razor-sharp mandibles clacking open and shut—an insectile Mandubii. It shot stinging spines from holes in its thorax, two of them hitting Lurco in the chest before the giant could crush the alien's black-plated skull with his hammer, covering the shining wall with purple brain matter.

Lurco laughed as he ripped the needlelike spines from his chest and strode with confidence back to take the path leading to the right.

“We should form a temporary alliance to improve the odds,” I said as we approached the next set of branching corridors. “At least until we're near the end.”

“I'll kill anything else the same way I killed the bug, but you'll die before you find the way out,” he said, heading to the left. “Unless you agree to come to my cabin after training and do whatever I want. Then I'll help you stay alive.”