Wolf’s Empire: Gladiator (63 page)

“Barbarian warriors!” Castor called out.

A new threat entered the scene, far ahead of us, on the platforms that extended behind the gem. There was no mistaking the mass of the large bull chief and the other warrior Hyperboreans. And he'd brought friends. There had to be a hundred more behind him and that number again pouring through the archways to the east. So the Wolves didn't stand to fight the Hyperboreans. They must have held them off just long enough to right their chariot and then run, following the trail we left, leading the Hyperborean warriors right along after them.

The pointed steel grille on the front of the Sertorian chariot struck and shattered the weakened Hyperboreans in our path, plowing them like a mower cutting grass. The next ones in line were standing off center and were pushed to the side, maimed by the spikes and blades that protruded from the chariot's side. In addition, Licinus' spinning war chain, Crassus' piercing javelin, and Barbata's trident forked and tossed alien bodies like a pitchfork tossing bales of hay. Mania was sending arrows flying at the Viridians. We cut a path through the Hyperboreans with our speed and skill.

The seeping red lines on my body suddenly blossomed open into full wounds, wrapping me in a net of pain. The same happened to the others. The closer we got to the light at the center of the city, the more wounds appeared, the more black ambrosia spilled from our bodies like miniature tributaries of the Styx, the river of the underworld that the dead travel along.

We drew up alongside the Viridians, trying to pass. They rammed us port side, long blades targeting our stabilizers and antigravity plates. We sped along the flat crystal platform, heedless of danger, focused only on winning the prize. They pulled away and swung in to hit us again. Weapons clashed, and I had to position myself behind the pole to seek cover from the blades and spikes on the Viridian chariot as much as from the danger of the weapons they wielded.

Another clash, and this time Pollux angled our craft to strike theirs in such a way that it sent them flying into one of the towers on the right side of the path. We were already racing on, passing them, but I looked back and saw the entire tower begin to topple in response and then dramatically fall forward, crashing into the hundred-foot-high tower in front of it. That one fell too, and then another, creating a deadly domino effect as the tall buildings shattered, sending waves of crystal shards projecting through the air behind us.

“The buildings are weak. Use them against the enemy!” Licinus ordered. The Dioscurii charged ahead and then suddenly swerved intentionally into one of the massive towers, plowing through its delicately balanced foundations and bringing it down behind us. Although the Viridians weren't suffering from lack of ambrosia, they were earning new wounds now as the crystal shards showered down upon them.

The Viridians remained alongside but wide of us. Both sides had the idea now, and we started alternate snaking patterns through the city, surging ahead, intentionally sideswiping the towers, using them as weapons, sending them careening down at each other, forcing the race to ever-greater speed as we pulled ahead of the shattering chains of destruction.

The worker Hyperboreans finally began to scatter, running like ants that had just had their hill kicked over.

I was the only person not caught up in the fight, the only one who could see what was going on around us. Overtaken with desire and bloodlust, driven by the fear of the other side winning the prize, neither side gave a thought to what they were doing here. Listening to the song, I was suddenly aware that I could hear the damage that was being done. As each tower fell, the delicate interweaving of the song was greatly diminished, a level of depth lost forever. The destruction of this monumental crystal architecture and the glorious harmony holding it together was a crime against creation.

The source of the song was the child at the center of the mountain, and the damage we were doing was weakening him, weakening the entire mountain. The torrents of ichor had ceased flowing.

The entire place truly was a house of cards, ready to collapse. I was certain it was the lack of ichor. The more that was drawn from the ice and into that child in the gem, the weaker the entire mountain and the crystal city within became. That child was the key. They all wanted him, but no house could be permitted to have him.

Although the Sertorians were responsible for the destruction of Lupus Civitas, this particular catastrophe was all my doing. In seeking my revenge, in throwing myself into the Ludi Romani at any price, I had brought about the very thing I sought to set right—the destruction of a city on this world and the massacre of its people. But the alternative was to do nothing and risk Aquilinus seizing the alien child. I had to remove him from the equation. I wagered that the child's death would provide a shock powerful enough to bring the entire mountain crashing down about us. Bury us all deep, along with the ichor, one giant funerary mount that would mark the end of the threat to the empire. If Aquilinus was still in Crassus' body when he died, then maybe he'd perish here too, though that might be too much to hope for.

As we closed in on the bright nexus, the pain from the wounds was overwhelming, but I forced myself to focus. Now cracks about the great gem that encompassed the child appeared. Fragile, everything here was thin, weak, ready to break apart. The first team to reach that child could crack the crystal about him like an egg and seize him. I could just see the Viridians behind us. We had too much of a lead on them, and unless I did something, Aquilinus, fueled by desire and sheer obstinacy, might actually be able to reach the prize before the Golden Wolves and the alien warriors. He could claim it in time before we died from lack of ambrosia. Aquilinus cared nothing for the Blood Hawks, they were pawns whose sole purpose was to ensure that none other took possession of the barbarian child. Once all other obstacles were eliminated and the prize secure, it would be nothing for him to flee back to his own body and move to recover all he saw as his.

I remembered our training aboard
Incitatus,
that a chariot moving at such great speed could be disrupted by the slightest unbalancing movement. I tried to spot Julia at the rear of the chariot, to try to warn her what I was about to do, but couldn't turn my head around far enough.

I waited until the Viridians had come close enough, counting the seconds between the numerous walkways that ran back out to the hive tunnels. When I judged that Carbo's craft had enough speed to suit my plan, I threw as much of my body as I could manage over the port side of the chariot, the one minus the desultore skirmisher. Gods, please let there be enough ambrosia in my system to allow me to survive long enough to finish this. My weight pulled the port side of the Sertorian chariot down at once, tilting the starboard side up. Castor bumped into Pollux, and the sensitive controls were knocked sharply. The chariot capsized onto its side, careening across the platform and into the Viridian craft. All Hawks except the chariot drivers and me were cast out and onto the platform—the two brothers strapped to the vehicle and me still bound by the neck.

We all slid horizontally. I was caught between the two chariots as they turned on their axes, my wrists broken, my hip crushed beneath the weight of the Blood Hawks' chariot, but the momentum and the vehicle's sudden jerk were enough of a pull to loosen the thong about my neck. We slid for what seemed an eternity, and when we spun and came about, I was satisfied to see that my plan had worked. The Viridians were still going, their craft redirected down a walkway to the east. They'd lost valuable time, at least two hundred yards they would have to cover again to catch up. Struggling, I rose—I had to keep moving. Aquilinus in Crassus' body looked like he was out cold. Licinus was already up and charging at me. The others were struggling to their feet as I freed my hands and pulled the loop from my neck, letting the bow staff drop. There was a javelin attached to the side of the skirmisher, but no weapon was necessary; with the skirmisher I would become a living weapon. Stretching up awkwardly, I detached the starboard skirmisher, mounted it and had just managed to pull away as Licinus' hand grasped for my hair. He got a thick handful, and he was going to pull me right off the saddle, but his hand closed over my mother's pin. I could feel it vibrating beneath his hand, and he screamed in pain but didn't let go. No ambrosia to insulate him now. The foul odor of burning flesh filled the air as I struggled to seize the controls, but they were just beyond my reach. He jerked my head back, and just as I was about to fall from the saddle, I saw Julia behind him. She threw herself forward, sinking her teeth into his neck, biting into one of his opening wounds for all she was worth. Licinus roared and let me go, struggling to beat Julia off.

“Go! Don't let them get it!” Julia screeched, her mouth dripping ghoulishly with Licinus' black ambrosial blood.

I drove forward, casting a quick glance in the side mirror. Licinus was beating Julia across the face, knocking her to the ground. Barbata and the Dioscurii were righting the chariot. Ignoring the searing pain in my hands, I worked the throttle, the tendons pulling over the top of broken wrists. My hair was flailing about me. The buzzing alien song was suddenly absent; Licinus grabbing at my mother's pin must have loosened it. It had fallen away somewhere behind me. I had to keep moving.

The alien warriors reached the platform. They swarmed toward us, moving to protect the child and the procession of workers transporting ichor. I glanced back and saw the Viridians hesitating, a half-mile behind us now, by the ramp. Things were already starting to fall apart. Far below, the crystal platforms began to shatter and fall away into the polluted reservoirs below.

Go, Marcus. Go. Trust me to see this through to the end. Tell Carbo the code word and go. I could do this. Look what I have done to the Sertorians. Know that I am true and get the hell out of there. The wave of Hyperboreans were nearing their position, and thank the gods, Carbo signaled a retreat and their chariot turned on a sharp arc and rocketed back toward the cover of the hive tunnels.

Now it was just the Sertorians and me. They'd abandoned Crassus. Aquilinus had probably exited the scene when his host blacked out. I could take them on and try to throw their chariot again, but if the four of them made a break for the child, I couldn't stop them all. Instead I drove the desultore skirmisher into the last of the towers, the broadest one yet, crashing right through plate after thin crystal plate of its foundations. I surged forward and brought the skirmisher about just in time to see the crystal spire come crashing down across the path, blocking it, forcing the Hawks' chariot to pull away. They were all bleeding, all coming apart at the seams from the wounds they'd suffered at my hands. They couldn't afford to take any more damage if they wanted to survive. Licinus howled abuse. I'd cost them valuable time. The attacking Hyperborean warriors were only twenty feet away. Licinus was going to die. They all would, at the hands of the aliens or from ambrosia loss. I drove forward again. I had the lead. I'd be the only one to reach the prize. This was the final move. I threw the auxiliary thruster switches on the desultore skirmisher and started gathering speed. I was going to ram the gem, going to turn myself into what I was always meant to be—an unwavering arrow striking home.

Licinus ordered the retreat, and the chariot turned about just as the Hyperborean swarm was about to overrun them. Off he went, saving his skin. Then, without warning, a massive stalactite crashed down from the roof and smashed through the platform, taking the Sertorians with it. A cascade of rocks and falling Hyperboreans followed them down. The sheer scale of the stalactite meant that there was no possibility of survival. All that power and darkness, they'd seemed so invincible and now they were crushed, dead. Just like that.

I was at maximum speed, the child in my sights. He looked small now, helpless within his crystal shell, the magnification effect gone now that I was up close. I didn't want to kill him. I had to kill him. One more sin, one more wrong action for the greater good, and then I would be done. The light was near blinding now as I entered the corona. O Minerva, guide me now!

There was a flash of light, and I was thrown from the desultore skirmisher. When I came to, I was lying on my back looking up at the mountain collapsing in on itself. Great stalactites fell, piercing the crystal platforms, sending them cascading down. I turned my head toward the light and discovered that I'd failed. The child was there before me. The crystal shell was falling to pieces, slowly shattering, but the child inside still lived, unharmed. Reaching back along the side of the skirmisher, my hand found the javelin. I'd die with a weapon in my hand. I'd die a warrior.

He stood within the shell, arms upraised.

The internal destruction of the mountain stopped suddenly. No more shaking or rumbling. There was sudden silence, just like that. The little Spartacus was doing it. Though I couldn't hear it anymore, I was certain that he was the source of the song as well as the power that was keeping the mountain upright. He was so bright, like the sun, I could barely look at him. I started forward and his eyes flicked open. Not vacant slits like the other Hyperboreans, but small orbs that resembled eyeballs lay within.

His expression was inhuman but somehow conveyed the feeling that he was judging me, looking right into my soul, and that made what I had to do next even more difficult. I was bleeding in so many places, my skin was burning, peeling away in sheaves, I knew I couldn't keep going for long. The alien child's radiance was powerful, blinding, but I didn't need to see to complete my mission. I struck with the javelin, a wound into his side that pierced the crystal shell of his body more like it was made of flesh than mineral. Rocks tumbled from above, the rumbling and crashing started up again. My strike weakened him, but he didn't lower his arms. I risked looking right at him now, I'd only get one more chance to finish him. His eyes never wavered. They should have been expressionless, heartless, alien, but I felt only compassion radiating from him, pity for the state I was in. Tears rolled down my eyes. There was no evil here. This being was good. A child. I raised for a second strike, the deathblow that would end both our lives and bring down the entire city.