Wolf’s Empire: Gladiator (84 page)

Aquilinus, so used to having his followers heap praise upon him, didn't know how to placate an audience, couldn't judge when to hold back punishment and when the crowd would approve to see it delivered. He'd been a tyrant for too long to change now.

“The whole empire's talking about Titus Cursor's bravery,” Julia said. “About his choice of a noble death over tyranny.”

“Titus pushed him too far,” Pavo said warily, “and now Aquilinus has got nothing to lose. He's going to kill us all.”

“No,” Crassus said. “Your Flavian ally has bought you all your lives. Aquilinus' advisers will be counseling him as we speak. His popularity is plummeting. He could release the wolves and ravens and kill us all, but he won't. He can't if he wants to win the crowd back.”

“And he won't risk harming the barbarian boy,” my uncle said gruffly. He had a firm grip on Lumen's wrist.

Just as Crassus predicted, the force fields constraining the deadly animals remained in place, allowing us to exit the course. Once we were clear, the walls became electrified and closed on the animals, killing them all in an instant.

Suddenly Aquilinus' celestial hologram—clouds and pillars, giant disapproving eyes looking down on us—flickered and vanished. Only Julius Gemminus' lonely head remained, zipping about with a confused expression.

“Ah, just a moment friends, we'll be moving things along in a moment,” he said nervously.

“Julia?” I asked.

She was already at her armilla, running a power line out to her hand, desperately coding, issuing instructions, patching digital fires. “The collegia are fighting him, he's had teams seeking out the location of our bases, taking out entire cities to try to stop them from protecting the integrity of the vox populi system.”

“Can he do it?” my uncle asked.

“We've had a long time to prepare for an attack,” Julia said, more than a hint of pride in her voice. “We've got the entire forum mirrored in each house's primary systems. Every single data station, every shipboard computer contains the vox populi seed files, and the big secret is that every armilla is a node that can help reseed those files. Aquilinus could burn the empire to the ground trying to shut it down, but the vox populi and all the data it contains will just keep on keeping on.”

Aquilinus appeared suddenly, filling up the space between heaven and earth—giant Jupiter draped in imperial toga, crackling lightning bolt in hand.

“It seems the collegia have failed,” my uncle said.

“Don't be so quick to judge,” Julia retorted. “The vox populi is still running and my colleagues in the Vulcaneum are taking the fight to the Sertorian data shapers, destroying their systems while they attack ours. Trust me, that giant god form avatar is Aquilinus' last-ditch effort to try to appear relevant.”

“It sounds like we're gaining support,” I said. “Let's make sure we stay alive long enough to make use of it!”

“Now I shall give my verdict!” Aquilinus boomed. “These nine have proved to be both unrepentant and unworthy of my divine inheritance. According to the newly revised Twelve Tables of Roman Law, they are guilty of high treason for worshipping dead gods, leading others to indulge in this illusion, refusing to honor the image of the emperor by libations and incense, and refusing to worship Aquilinus in his divine form and participate in the newly established imperial cult of the Blood Eagles. Ever generous, I offer you this one last chance. Will any of you pray to me for mercy and recant your illusions? Before the appropriate punishments are meted out?”

We were beaten down, weak, but we were defiant to the last. Even Carbo, who saw me as an enemy, a rival—we were as one now. We stood there, bleeding and exhausted, our unyielding eyes locking—no give, no weakness. Aquilinus was a fool to even ask. These remaining nine were strong to the last.

Julius Gemminus appeared with a holographic scroll before him, laying out our fate.

“Tomorrow, the members of the so-called Caninine Alliance will be dragged into the ruins of the old arena of Lupus Civitas for the most spectacular damnatio ad bestias event in the history of the empire. They shall be blindfolded, as they are unworthy of the light, and then crucified at low height, wrapped in the skins or draped in the feathers of their house emblems, and then slowly devoured by beasts. A special noon event will be held for Accala Viridius. In light of the bull chief having died in the field, an alternate barbarian suitor will be found for her or perhaps even a human paramour appropriately attired as a mock Hyperborean”—Julius Gemminus stuttered, his showmanship was faltering—“to … to consummate the emperor's victory.…” Aquilinus had a knife at his throat; Gemminus didn't want to be reading this out. I didn't blame him. Caligula had had the editor of his gladiatorial shows and beast baitings beaten with chains in his presence for several successive days, and would not kill him until he was disgusted at the stench of the man's putrefied brain. That's what happened to people who went against mad emperors.

“Then, finally, the Blood Eagles will descend to the sacred field to steal the last breath of life from these dogs. Their divine judgment will ripple throughout the empire. Each death will signal the bombing of a Viridian, Calpurnian, and Flavian world—an empirewide fire to cauterize the wound these rebels have caused with their disobedience.”

“You cannot crucify us!” Carbo cried out. “We are citizens of Rome!”

Aquilinus' eyes flashed lightning. “In my empire, citizenry is acquired through obedience. Those who do not obey are no longer citizens. They are no better than beasts, rabid dogs that cannot be controlled, and shall be treated as such.”

“Now we find out,” I said. “We see which side the people of the empire have backed. Will they stand for us, against him?”

The mob wanted catharsis, a real contest, not this ideological horror show. Aquilinus was going to have to shift into damage control to stop the popularity drain. He had to triumph on all fronts—the propaganda war with the people of Rome, this tournament, as well as the efforts behind the scenes to claim Lumen and the raw ingredient of ambrosia—if he was going to keep his throne at all. But the sky wasn't filled with downturned thumbs, no thumbs-up, either. There was nothing. This didn't bode well.

“Julia?” I asked.

“What do the people say?” Uncle Quintus demanded.

“Wait. There's a fresh attack on the vox populi. The Sertorians are trying to stop a news update from getting out. It's the people, they're rioting,” Julia said, tapping at her armilla. “All over the empire, they're taking to the streets, they're bombing Sertorian buildings, burning Sertorian ships. They're fighting back! His attack on the vox populi, the way we've been treated—the people are rebelling, striking out at Aquilinus.”

“He will bend, just wait and see,” Crassus said. “He knows he has to appease the mob now if he wants to have a chance at keeping the throne. His advisers will be telling him he has to do now what he should have done before. Give us an even chance at winning the games. No punishments rigged in the Sertorians' favor.”

“Right,” Julia confirmed. “Just now he's posted an empirewide transmission, ordering them to tune back in to the games. He's promised them that he'll make an announcement that will satisfy them and bring peace to the empire.”

Suddenly the vox populi respawned itself, and the sky was filled with upturned thumbs demanding our survival.

“Yes!” Julia exclaimed. “They're with us!”

Emperor Aquilinus' game show was over. So what now? Would he honor his wager to finish the games?

“There's been some misunderstanding,” Aquilinus' voice boomed out. “Many have not understood the importance of the work taking place here, but we will ensure that they are satisfied with the final arena, won't we, Julius Gemminus?”

“Oh, yes, Imperator,” the small head agreed. “They will be ecstatic.”

“An arena spectacular to satisfy their desire for blood and sand?”

Julius Gemminus flitted about the sky, his forced grin wider than ever. “Oh, my emperor, I believe I can give you all that you ask for and more. A true blood-and-sand arena spectacular, an end to the games that will sate everyone's appetites—in the crumbling arena of the ruined Viridian city of Lupus Civitas, in the shadow of this world's tallest peak—Wolves and Ravens toe to toe against your righteous gladiators, Imperator. Only give me tonight, I beg you. I'll need time to sculpt my greatest work.”

“You shall have it,” the giant emperor said, feigning graciousness. He made a grand, sweeping gesture toward Nova Olympus in the distance. “Go, contestants, camp tonight and rest. You shall be free from harm between now and tomorrow's event. Come fresh to the final arena tomorrow. Then we shall play this out once and for all!”

“Move out,” my uncle ordered. “Make as much ground as we can before we camp for the night and stay close. Don't trust Aquilinus' word for a second.”

As we raced through the snow, the Talonites who had harried us appeared again—keeping their distance but making certain we moved in the right direction toward Julius Gemminus' masterwork. Darkness approached, the temperature dropped, and we camped. We worked together quietly, tending each other's wounds as best we could with the remaining medical supplies.

Lumen's silence was chilling; he simply stared at me. Without our mind-to-mind connection, communication was impossible, especially as he wouldn't engage in mime or any other form of symbolic exchange. I was glad I had Marcus. The intimacy Lumen and I had shared by way of our connection drifted away like a half-remembered dream. I couldn't quite put my finger on how to find it again. It was like holding a message from a bottle written in the language of a faraway land.

The ambrosia hunger returned once more as darkness fell. It wasn't debilitating, just a lingering ghost of the suffering I'd endured before. We were drawing close to the end, but how it would all play out was a mystery. That great unknown was a weight that increased with each passing day, as did my desire for ambrosia. My body tried to convince me that I needed it, that ambrosia was the key to survival and victory. At once I visited my uncle's tent and asked if I could speak to him about Concretus, but he told me I should get some sleep, and we could discuss it in the morning. Carbo organized the watch roster and warned us all to be on guard in case Aquilinus tried to attack and hamstring us before tomorrow's games. I was grateful that Marcus and I weren't scheduled to guard the camp until later in the night. I needed him, to take the edge off so I could get any rest at all. Our lovemaking was satisfying, though this time the sex wasn't enough to stop the ambrosia withdrawal, an itch I couldn't scratch.

I awoke alone to sounds of struggle. Certain that the Blood Hawks must be attacking, I burst out, my heart racing, ready to cast Orbis. In the center of the camp, bound, gagged, and tethered to a post, were Crassus and Julia, looking beaten and bruised, but there was no Sertorian attack, at least not as far as I could see. Caninus stood guard over them. Behind him sat Lumen, not bound but guarded on either side by Pavo and Nervo.

This was Carbo's doing. Had Crassus tried to betray us? Something had gone terribly wrong, and I had to find my uncle and fix it before it got even more out of hand.

“What's going on?” I demanded of Caninus. “Julia is loyal. Release her at once.”

“Dear niece. Come and we'll talk.”

I spun about. Uncle Quintus stood in the opening to his tent.

“Uncle? I need to know what's going on. Right now.”

“Julia had orders and she has violated them,” he said. “She forgot that she's sworn to my service until this is all over. She's not your lackey, nor the collegia's. Come. No harm will befall them or you. Come and hear me out. Tonight we will turn Aquilinus' game on its head and steal victory.”

I looked back at Julia and Crassus, and then steeled myself and entered the command tent. Quintus sat down behind his small desk and pressed the tips of his fingers together before his lips, observing me over the top of them.

“There's no chance as long as we're playing by Aquilinus' rules,” he said. “You've made some bold plays, dear niece, and come out on top. Now Aquilinus can't afford to risk any of us actually surviving tomorrow. He's engineering some kind of plan to isolate Lumen, and then he'll take us down once and for all. The time for games is over.”

I saw it now, clear as day. Carbo never acted alone. It was my uncle who had ordered Concretus' death.

“Does that involve using mines to bury our allies alive?” I asked.

“That was a necessary ruse. We can't have barbarians dictating terms,” he said.

“The only terms he dictated were that no one should harm Lumen.”

“And we won't harm him, I swear it.”

“As long as he cooperates,” Carbo said as he entered the tent. He was holding an ion pistol in his hand. My uncle must have smuggled it in when he was thrown into the arena. “Unlike your collegia bitch. That's what happens when you send in a woman to do a man's job. It's the humors. I felt it the moment this curse was forced upon me. Every member of your sex is unhinged. I can't wait for this to be over, to be a whole man again.”

I wouldn't take his bait. I couldn't afford to get angry. They were essential to the mission. To get Lumen to the mountain I needed to ride the wave of Carbo's paranoia, not push up against it.

“What is Julia accused of that she should be treated in such a way? The collegia are working in our interests. Without them, the entire vox populi forum would be usurped by Aquilinus and he could destroy us with impunity.”

“Julia has a means of bypassing the game shields that keep us penned in and under Aquilinus' power,” my uncle said. “Tonight is our last night on this world. I ordered her to give us the shield codes, but she refused, at least at first.”