Wolf’s Empire: Gladiator (79 page)

“Lumen's guided us to a clearing to camp for the night,” she told me quietly as we came to a stop. “I think we're going to be safe here, at least from the Talonites, but Marcus and Crassus are eyeing one another warily, and the bull chief is extending and retracting the sharp icicles along his arm anytime one of us comes too close to Lumen. If we all team up against Crassus—”

I cut her off. “Crassus stays for now. I told you that, and my decision stands.”

Julia helped prop me up in the chariot. The clearing was small, ringed by thickly clustered crystal trees. There was a feeling of anticipation, as if the trees were waiting for something, like children rushing to the door to welcome a parent.

“You've sent Aquilinus back a step,” Marcus said to me. “His coup looked like a done deal, but now he's on the back foot, trying to keep all the edges of the empire together before it starts splitting apart at the seams. You've proved yourself to me, and I'll vouch for you when we catch up with the Carbo and the others.”

“But will you vouch for me?” Crassus asked him.

“Your actions will speak for you,” Marcus said bluntly.

“Perhaps I should let them speak for me now,” Crassus said in a threatening tone.

A shadow passed over Crassus' face. Confronting Aquilinus back at the precipice had shaken him. He'd sworn service to me, but he still saw Marcus and the other Caninines as a potential threat, and Marcus was a natural leader. He felt intuitively that he should be in command. To him I was still the old Accala. He didn't see that I was no longer a girl, not even a woman. I was the leader now. There was a tension in the air, each man waiting to see if the other would make a move. Crassus raised his spear, and Marcus turned to face him, sword at the ready. Behind them Concretus moved to stand before Lumen, ready to kill either of them if they threatened his safety. I couldn't have this. Not now.

“No fighting,” I said as loudly as I could manage. “Kill each other and doom this whole mission. The Caninines are traveling along the forest's edge, we won't run into them tonight.”

“It won't be your team if we catch up with the Viridian proconsul and Tribune Carbo. They'll be running the show,” Crassus warned me.

“Be that as it may, right now this is my team and we'll pull in the direction I say. I need both of you. I'll vouch for you, Crassus, and my word will be enough. Swear peace now. Make a pax between you, at least until the tournament is over.”

They hesitated, their eyes locked, not daring to even blink.

“Swear it now or both of you are out,” I said. “And I will do this on my own if I have to, you'd better believe it.”

Slowly they lowered their weapons. Crassus was the first to offer his arm. Marcus paused, looked at me, and then clasped the Sertorian's forearm. Now he began to sense my resolve.

There were two dome-shaped emergency shelters aboard the Ovidian chariot that we set up near the tree line. We agreed that Marcus and Crassus would take one, mindful of their promise not to fight, and Julia and I the other.

They will come soon. When they do, I ask that you do not interfere with them until the process is complete.

“Who will come?” I asked.

The last of my people bringing me the final deposits of ichor.

“I thought there would be more,” I said
.

They have died. The world cannot sustain them; the poison from the collapse of the city has been spreading throughout the world, and those belowground have been falling prey to its pollution. They do not have my mother's strength.

Darkness soon descended, and as the last of the light vanished, the forest provided a dull light of its own. Lumen walked into the center clearing. The ground beneath him paid honor to his step. Glowing, sparkling tendrils from the roots of the trees sprang up and tapped into his feet, the top of which opened, a hundred tiny pores like docking ports in a console, accepting the thin, shining roots. The trees began to dim, their energy and heat waning as they poured into him. The ground beneath us began to crack, like a monsoon plain in dry season. And then they appeared, all at once, as if they stepped out of the trunks of the trees themselves. The last of his people, hundreds of glowing Hyperborean workers, emerged from rocks and trees, from the dense foliage of the night forest. Lumen began to glow, and the first one came, twice his height, slender of frame. I could see the ichor flowing through the channels of his crystal body. We all watched in astonishment as the tall worker stepped into Lumen. It was like some conjurer's trick. He seemed to shrink in size like fruit drying in the sun, burning up in the smaller alien's light, shrinking and dissolving as he continued walking into him. I could barely look at it, the light was so intense. After a time, the flow of Hyperboreans came to an end and the glow subsided.

“That was one of the strangest things I've ever seen,” Marcus said.

“They are the servants of the gods,” Crassus said.

“I thought you didn't believe in the gods,” Marcus said gruffly.

“Only a fool does not acknowledge the light when it's shining right before him,” Crassus said.

As we started to set up the shelters, Marcus approached me.

“Accala, a word?” he asked.

“Of course.”

He drew me aside to the edge of the camp.

“This is all happening quickly, as these things are wont to do.”

“I can do this,” I said. “I feel sharp, focused.”

“I don't doubt it. This is your path, and we are following along in your wake, I saw it at once. I don't even question your choice about Crassus, though it will no doubt bring problems later on. The gods favor you, and I made the mistake of misjudging your motives once. I won't do it again. Tribune Carbo has explained the situation to me. I know your heart, your determination, and that's good enough for me.”

“Then what? If you don't doubt my leadership…”

“It's not that. I thought, back in the mountain, I thought that I'd killed you. I just wanted a moment, this moment, before things get bad, to tell you I'm sorry and let you know that it pleases me that you are alive. That I'm happy to see you again.”

He looked away, his face pained. I wasn't wrong, then—Marcus had feelings for me. I knew the legend of Marcus and Amphiara. He never got to say good-bye to her before she was killed, never got to tell her how he felt.

“I'm right here,” I said.

“As am I,” he said. “But when the arrow is loosed, it thinks only of the target.” He reached out to touch my face. “I apologize for misjudging you, and I rejoice to see you alive.” His fingers fell away, but in a reluctant, lingering way. “But you must stay focused. To survive and triumph—those must be our watchwords.”

“Survive and triumph,” I echoed. I had the sense it wasn't the first time he had spoken those words to someone he loved.

I took his hand in my good one. I wanted to feel human contact, to drive away the feeling of sickness that crept over me. His hand was warm, despite the plummeting temperature. I could feel his pulse. His heart was pounding.

“There is something I wanted to ask you,” I said. “Before. Back in Rome. You talked about Crassus with admiration because he was a skilled gladiator. I had the sense that you meant that I was not.”

He laughed at that. “Out here, perhaps on the last night before we die, with the whole empire at stake, and you're worried about some comment I made back in the training hall in Rome?”

“I value your opinion,” I said, “and right now I need to know what you truly think of my abilities.”

“I think that you're not a gladiator at all,” he said. “You have the skills and the heart, but you're not made for the arena. It's not your path. I knew it from the first.”

Not a gladiator? It was the only way I'd thought of myself those last two years. If not an arena fighter, then what?

“I'm a warrior,” I said. “A soldier like my father.”

“Not even that,” he said. “It's too late for me. I was a soldier and then a gladiator and then a trainer of gladiators. I don't know how to be anything else. If the gods meant for that to change, then I wouldn't be here now. This is where I'm meant to be, the role I am meant to play in the great game of the gods. But you're something else. When I chose to become a gladiator, I did it as a way of turning my back upon the world. I rejected life and love and followed the path of death. I saw that in you—that's why I took you as a student—but there was a spark as well, something inside you that burned to live despite the anger and darkness that had veiled you. Death doesn't own you like it does me, or Crassus, for that matter. You're like a flame in the dark to men like us. This arena is a harsh testing ground, but the gods have a destiny marked out for you, Accala, mark my words. You have it within you to be something Rome hasn't seen for a long time.”

I was at a loss; I didn't know what he meant. If I wasn't a gladiator or a soldier, then what was I?

“A hero,” Marcus said. “You can be a hero.”

We stood there silently for a few minutes, hand in hand, watching the wind howling through the trees, breaking off branches as it went. Lumen had drained the surrounding environment of its ichor and it was dying. Limbs smashed to the ground, creating a forest floor of shards and clouds of glittering dust. Marcus moved to leave and as we parted our fingers clung together like vines, reluctant to be separated, but then we were apart and heading to our separate shelters. Lumen and Concretus didn't feel the elements or need to sleep and so kept watch over the chariot, allowing us some welcome rest. As soon as dawn rose, we needed to find the Caninines. There was strength in numbers, and we needed all the strength we could get if we were going to go up against Licinus and his Blood Eagles.

I fell asleep thinking of the last thing I should have been thinking of at a time like that—Marcus' warm hand, his beating pulse, and his unexpected belief in me. But there was no room for anything between us. He could see it, and was wise to remind me of the way of the arrow. The games of a mad emperor cost him his heart once, and it would cost him again. There was no thought of life for me after this. To carry out my duty, I must shed all the different parts of myself—daughter, lover, woman, slave, fighter, gladiator. I must be the arrow. Nothing else.

*   *   *

T
HE FIRST RAYS
of light revealed a forest in decay. The beauty of the evening before gave way to broken crystal limbs and brittle trees. All through the night, as the forest dried up and fell apart like an old woman's body, we'd heard crashing crystals tinkling and clanging as they struck the icy ground. No longer did the branches part for us. Now we had to shield the chariot and drive through, making an awful mess as we went. It reminded me of the destruction of Lumen's city—as one tree fell it took others nearby with it.

We emerged onto a wide, cyan green road that ran along the base of the hills—the ancient highway to Lupus Civitas that had been used by heavy transport vehicles—but before we could even come about and straighten up, our chariot was hit from the side, sending us flying sideways back into the trees, filling the air with showers of crystal shards.

“Ambush!” I yelled, drawing Orbis.

“Hold!” Marcus called. “Proconsul Severus, stay your hand. We're with you.”

“Hold your fire.” It was my uncle's voice. We'd found them—or, rather, they'd found us. One chariot and a desultore skirmisher. My family, our allies.

We dismounted. Pavo's crossbow was aimed at my head, Carbo's pike leveled at Crassus.

Nervo moved to take Lumen, but Concretus stepped between them and held out his arms in warning, spikes of crystal flashing in the morning light. Behind Nervo was the Flavian spearman Titus Flavius Cursor, small white wings fluttering from his back. Gods, but that looked bizarre.

“Lumen. They'll help us. Truly. Have Concretus stand down,” I shouted urgently.

Lumen reached out and the great warrior slowly lowered his fists, but he stood his ground, barring any way to his charge.

“Hold!” Marcus called out again. “Accala's with us!”

“She is!” Julia insisted.

Next to Carbo, his official robes worn and bloodied, was my uncle Quintus. He looked as he ever did, though much older. The rest of the Viridians, though—their jaws had softened, their eyelashes grown. Still muscular and powerful, their bodies were changing. There was no doubt that although they were in some transitory stage, they were as much women now as they ever were men.

“Don't gawk,” Carbo grumbled, his voice a higher register than before.

“Are you with us?” Quintus asked me. “After your recent performance in the Hyperborean tunnels, I'm not so sure. Or are you with these barbarians? Answer truly now, dear niece, and before the words leave your lips, remember how efficient I am at detecting the truth.”

“I have allied myself with these aliens,” I said. “But I am loyal to House Viridian. To the empire. As I have ever been. I swear it, Uncle.”

“I don't trust her,” Carbo snapped. “Not after she went crazy like that in the mines.”

“And this Sertorian?” Quintus asked of Crassus.

“I have sworn loyalty to serve Accala and the Hyperboreans,” Crassus said.

“It's true,” I said. “He's risked his life for us several times over.”

My uncle and Carbo took Marcus aside, and he quickly filled them in. When they were done, Uncle Quintus looked me up and down, his gaze lingering upon my deformed hand.

“Dear niece, you've earned us our weapons back and more. You've brought us a great prize, and that earns you the right to be heard and to have your petition considered,” my uncle said. “Marcus and Carbo, execute the Sertorian, and then let's find cover so we can calculate our next move.”