Wolf’s Empire: Gladiator (45 page)

“Unless…”

“Unless what?” I asked.

“Unless Aulus
is
the ichor the Hyperboreans are carrying.”

“That's an erroneous observation. Some might even say a ridiculous thought unworthy of expression.”

“I'm just saying…”

“Marcus Aurelius doesn't ask us to consider the impossible. He's a pragmatist, whereas you are simply unhelpful.”

“All I'm saying it that just maybe,” Julia said, “when you've eliminated the possible, if your mother is telling the truth, the impossible might be the answer, huh?”

She was a plebeian; she didn't understand philosophy.

After Julia left I sought out Crassus and calmly requested my share from the night before and he gave it up to me at once without any protest. About the camp the Talonites also seemed less perturbed, and I guessed that the ambrosia Licinus and Mania had collected had boosted their stores and allowed them to be more liberal in dispensing the drug. In terms of his temperament, Crassus seemed to be back to normal. No red face or sudden screaming fit. He was intrigued, though. He'd meant to teach me a lesson, to break me by withholding ambrosia, and there I was calmly requesting my share, as if I could take it or leave it. In private I devoured the ambrosia at once and right away felt a spring in my step.

*   *   *

A
S WE HEADED
out on the third day of the chariot rounds, the track took us in a curving arc out along the eastern coast. The ground below us was fragile, layers of glacial ice that had frozen over time until they were hard and brittle, and brilliant like a vast, shining mirror. The forms of our gleaming chariots were reflected back up at us as we sped along. About a mile ahead, the ground suddenly sank into a series of deep valleys that almost looked as if they'd been cut into the ground, like a man-made mine, except they were full of indigenous flora—trees and bushes with leaves of emerald hugged the walls here and there. The largest of the valleys lay right in our path, about fifty feet deep and extending for about a mile. An artificial platform had been set up in the middle of the valley, about the height of the ground we were currently racing over. A ramp sat upon the platform looking out of place. I didn't understand. Even with some kind of launching device, no chariot could cover the half-mile to the pedestal; any to attempt it would plummet into the valley below. Nor there was an obvious place for the track to continue on. The road we were on simply petered out at the edge of the crevasse. To our right, level with us, the choppy white waves of the ocean crashed, sending fingers of foam up onto the frozen beach, droplets of white and green water flying through the air as if to touch us.

As we drove forward, the Caninine Alliance teams rocketed toward us from the northwest. The whole scene was lit from above by a flash of bright red light accompanied by an intense whining sound as the stadium's ion cannon fired from on high. It was so close, the beam struck the ice and a wall of steam rose up before us. In that instant I thought the emperor was done with the games and had decided to wipe us all from the face of the planet, but then the steam began to clear and we were surrounded by the sound of rushing water.

“Watch out, racers! You might get a little wet!” Julius Gemminus squealed with delight, like an overexcited hog, his little wings fluttering excitedly.

Water. Icy water. A wall of it was rushing toward us. As one, the chariots pulled port and moved away from the coast as quickly as we could.

The stadium's ion cannon wasn't targeting us but rather the landscape itself. Some in-play resculpting to keep us on our toes. The editor had destroyed a natural ice barrier, a seawall between the waves and the land, and churning white and blue waves were rushing over the land like a stampede of wild horses set to trample us underfoot. I watched from the rear of the chariot as the wall of water surged toward us.

Our chariot pulled north and started racing around the edge of the valley. The Dioscurii were the most experienced drivers on one of the fastest vehicles and they'd decided our best chance for survival lay in outpacing the water long enough for it to fill the valley and lose its deadly forward impetus.

The chariots of both factions followed suit and managed to stay ahead of the deadly torrent except for the Tullians, who straggled behind. Their chariot was so heavy they couldn't escape the water wall in time. It passed over them, and I was hopeful that the entire chariot would be lost, but then the water diverted suddenly; it had found the valley. A moment later, the Tullians burst clear, though they almost lost the steel-gloved Potitus Tullius Silo, his heavy spiked gloves grasping the central pole of the chariot to prevent the waves from sending him to his death far below. The valley was transformed into a great waterfall as the white waters rushed to fill it. The summa rudis, our robotic referee, sped back and forth before us signaling that we must hold, no fighting until it gave the green light. Within minutes the valley was filled, forming a choppy lake, and the rushing waters threatened to spill over its brim and flood the level land. Trees and large bushes ripped from the valley walls by the force of the waterfall bobbed about in the waves. Then the signal came and the referee withdrew. Before anyone could contemplate violence, a long shield wall began to move toward us on our flank, so fast that we were forced to head for the lake itself.

Again, the Dioscurii took the lead and the others followed. We hit the lake hard and fast, waves crashing over the bow, sending a spray of icy water into the air. The chariots worked as boats, the skirmishers acting as floats to help stabilize them in the water. Gods, but it was cold, each droplet like a little dagger of ice when it hit uncovered skin. Based on the depth of the valley and the volume charging in from the bay, the water must have been at least thirty feet deep, more than enough to drown in, and the cold guaranteed death to anyone who fell beneath the churning waves. The purple-hued screen of shield walls surrounded the lake—generated by strings of joined pontoons—with the exception of one gap at the opposite end. That was the continuation of the track westward toward the foothills of the great Olympian peaks. An archway on land near the edge of the lake marked the finish of today's round. Julius Gemminus had turned this leg of the chariot race into a naumachia, an artificial naval battle, with the chariots playing the parts of ancient triremes.

The artificial platform in the middle of the valley was now an island, with only one launching ramp leading off it. The chariots rammed one another as we vied to be the first to launch right over the lake and win the round.

I used Orbis to hack and slash as we crashed into the Flavians and Viridians. The Silver Sparrows pulled away, unconcerned. Their temporary shield module warded off blows from all sides, and they zipped ahead over the water, taking the lead.

Great sluglike creatures with long white horns atop their heads suddenly appeared, breaking through the surface of the water. I recognized them as being native to Olympus Decimus—the first settlers had named them
spectrum monoceros
due to their single horns and ability to change color to communicate. The writhing motion of their bodies propelled them through the water like eels. Their horns were near unbreakable, and they were dangerous territorial pack hunters.

They'd been dragged here from their ocean environment, disturbed, seconded for our amusement, and they were not happy about it.

The creatures came in fast, attacking the Flavians first, slowing them, before the remaining chariots caught up. Barely visible under the water until they were right before us, the creatures reared up into the air like snakes and attacked with sharp horns before disappearing again. All the teams became focused on defending against the monster water slugs, distracted from their goal of reaching the platform. The creatures were fast, but their great white backs, splotched with gray, breached the surface for a split second before they reared up and attacked. Once I saw the pattern, predicting their strikes was easy—the next was going to appear about ten feet off the Ovidian bow. I said nothing, offered no warning. I caught Marcus' eye in passing, though, and, without thinking, flashed mine quickly toward the spot where the monster would come. It was only for a split second, and I was certain no Sertorian saw, but it was enough. He caught on. We were used to passing fast signals, Marcus and I, and although he was suspicious of me, he was never one to pass up an opportunity. He had a split second to choose to trust me or not, and he chose right. That meant something, didn't it? It had to.

He signaled his driver to push starboard, nudging the Amber Boars' craft right over the top of the monster as it reared up. The creature pierced the base of the Ovidian chariot with its horn, sending it rocking violently to one side. Publius Ovidius Bibaculus, the team leader, was lost. With his heavy armor and goring tusks built into his helmet, he staggered and tumbled into the waters below. He squealed and grunted, trying to free himself as his heavy armor dragged him under the clashing waves, and the horned slug creatures moved to pierce his body before he vanished beneath the white water. Now the Fates struck again. The collision of the Ravens with the Boars saw the Ravens cripple their enemy but sent the Calpurnian chariot careening about and colliding with the Flavians as they made their dash forward. A slight nudge, but it was enough to send them into the long ramp at a slight angle, and they flew off the edge and landed on their side in the water. Their charioteer managed to right the craft, but they were going to have to make a big arc to come about again for another shot at the ramp.

Now was our chance. The Calpurnians and Ovidians aside, we could take the island.

I yelled out, but the Dioscurii were already on it. They drove up onto land for only a second before we reached the launching ramp. Our chariot was catapulted along its length and into the air, and we were flying. The other chariots fell away beneath us. Another twenty seconds and we hit the ice on the other side of the lake, powering ahead as we passed through the victory arch and won the day.

I felt a shameful satisfaction, but it was hard not to respond to the sky filled with thumbs and symbols of approval. The face of Julius Gemminus beamed, as he promised us an electromagnetic pulse generator that would fire once only and cause an enemy engine to seize up.

That night in the camp, spirits were high among the Sertorians. We'd won a leg at last, and the talk was of using the weapon's one charge on the Calpurnians, to disable their entire chariot at a crucial moment so as to ensure the destruction of every gladiator aboard. I wasn't sure how I felt about Marcus. He'd certainly made every effort to kill me, and even though he'd instinctively followed my lead, I couldn't allow myself to be distracted by old loyalties in this new world where all the rules were turned upside down.

Crassus might have returned to normal, but he still seemed uninterested in me. That suited me for tonight—I had other fish to fry—but I still needed my ambrosia. He went to leave the tent for the night and stopped only when he heard me moan at the thought of the ambrosia leaving with him. My skin had turned a yellow hue after the day's hard fighting and I needed the ambrosia more than ever. He threw it casually on the ground and then left me to scrabble forward on my hands and knees, gathering it up, desperately pulling the stopper from the phial, draining the tiny container, sopping up the remaining drips with the tip of my yellow-skinned pinkie.

My plan was to alert Julia and escape again, to try to secure some of the ambrosia and aid the Hyperboreans. I'd borrow Julia's armilla to escape the shield wall, but when night fell, Castor and Pollux Corvinus were keeping a close eye on me. The activity of the night before hadn't gone unnoticed, and the Sertorians were suspicious and doubly cautious. I wouldn't get another chance to leave the camp while Mania and Licinus carried out their ambrosia mining expedition. Even Julia was unable to attend me, having been set extra maintenance duties on the chariots. I watched her from the front of my tent having a long conversation with Crassus. What did they have to talk about? And for so long? I went to bed frustrated and alone.

*   *   *

T
HE SECOND TO LAST
day of the chariot races began with our faction funneled into a narrow canyon. The terrain here had clearly been sculpted by Julius Gemminus' ion cannon, the edges of the canyon now shiny and regular. We fell into single file, the Sertorian chariot in the lead, and rode fast. There was no sign of the Caninines. We were being kept apart to avoid clashes while we transited between the official rounds, and they were presumably traveling along a similar course. At midmorning the canyon arced down to a low plateau with small lakes spread out across it and distant walls of green, glassy rock bordering its edges. We fanned out and headed for the other side of the plateau, where it narrowed again into a channel with high rock walls. When the Caninines did appear, it was to our port side at a distance of about a mile.

Before we could meet and clash, Julius Gemminus appeared above us.

“This shall be the last challenge of the chariot round based on the ancient stories. Tomorrow's final race will be an uninterrupted contest of pure speed. Welcome to The Passage of Scylla and Charybdis. The sea god Glaucus fell in love with the beautiful Scylla, but she was repulsed by his fishy tail and fled to land where he could not follow. When he went to Circe to ask for a love potion, the sorceress herself fell in love with him and instead prepared a vial of poison, pouring it into a pool where her rival bathed, transforming Scylla into a thing of terror. Charybdis, a daughter of Poseidon and Gaia, was extremely gluttonous. To satisfy her appetites, she stole cattle from the hero Hercules, and an enraged Jupiter transformed her into a monster. The two monsters, immortal and irresistible, beset a narrow channel of water traversed by ancient heroes, destroying their ships and devouring the crews.”