Wrath of the Storm Page 11

  Brutus laughed and pressed his hand deeper into my back. "Some of the Praetors thought you would wait until the trial to attempt a rescue, but I know you better than that, Nicolas. I knew you'd come here."

  His knee was on my back as well, pinning me to the floor. In this position, all I could do was keep hold of Radulf's hand for as long as possible. Without magic, I felt the sweat on my palm. He was slipping.

  Brutus called for Donnan and a few of the other slaves to come forward. "Get this man to the surface before he's late for his trial."

  "I'm sorry," Donnan whispered to me as he knelt on the other side of the hole. "Truly, I am, Nicolas. We wanted you to succeed. You're one of us."

  "I never was," I replied between gasps for air. Echoing in my head was my own voice, "You're not a freeman either."

  Three boys reached into the hole and took Radulf's arm, pulling it from my grasp and inching him out of the hole. All I could do was remain pinned on the floor, trying to breathe and silently communicate my apologies to Radulf. He came to the surface looking as sad and empty as any person could, swallowed up in his guilt and weakness, and the reality of what he was facing after he left this building.

  "You are my grandfather," I told him. "My pater familias."

  Radulf was pulled to his feet, but before the boys led him away, he said, "If I am, then you will obey this order, Nic. Break free from that pig kneeling on top of you, then fulfill your promise to me and destroy the Malice."

  "Get him out!" Brutus snarled. "General Radulf, I promise that you will pay for those words at trial."

  "I do not fear you," Radulf calmly replied. "But if you harm my grandson or any of my family, then you should fear me."

  "You will be dead by the end of this day," Brutus said.

  "And you will not last the week." Radulf smiled at me as the boys finally led him away. He walked with a limp, I noticed, probably from when he had been dumped into the carcer hole last night. And even if his smile was as fake as those chiseled onto the statues of Rome, it gave me courage for what was coming next.

  Because even if I was very lucky -- and I never was -- this escape was going to hurt. A lot.

  Brutus had my left hand pinched behind my back, but it was the right arm he wanted, the one with the Malice on it. As soon as the boys had grabbed Radulf, I'd stuffed that arm beneath me, out of his reach. Brutus rolled off me and tried to twist my body enough to get hold of that arm.

  "My grandfather just called you a pig," I said. "You are many things, Decimas Brutus, but not a pig."

  He hesitated. "No, I am not. Thank you."

  "After all," I added, "that comparison is a terrible insult to pigs."

  Furious, he thrust his knee into the small of my back, pushing me even closer to the hole. I yelled out and kicked backward at him. His hand slipped from the Star, but I still wasn't free.

  "I need help, you fools!" Brutus yelled. And only then did three other Praetors emerge from dark corners of the carcer, having waited all this time for their orders.

  I searched within myself for any remaining magic -- surely with the Malice, there had to be something. But within seconds, the Praetors had flipped me onto my back and were holding my legs and had my arms raised high over my head. Brutus pulled out his knife.

  "This can be quick, or it can be slow," he said, bringing the knife near my chest. "Pledge your loyalty to the Mistress. Choose her or choose to die."

  If I really did have a choice, it would be to melt that knife into putty. And that was only a start of what would happen if I had magic.

  "Tell me where you hid the Mistress," he said. "She calls to me."

  I struggled again, and when that failed, I spit in Brutus's face. That wasn't exactly the answer he wanted, but when he raised the knife, I immediately stopped fighting.

  "Enough of this," Brutus said. "Let me see his arm. I'll take that Malice, then take the bulla. After that, it will be an easy thing to get his vow of loyalty."

  The Praetor holding my arms started to raise the right one toward Brutus, but in the same second as he reached for it, I yanked my arm away and then crashed a fist into Brutus's jaw as he bent over me. He reeled backward, landing on the Praetors holding my legs.

  I rolled one more time, wrenching my left arm free and almost falling into the dungeon hole.

  "Get him under control!" Brutus yelled.

  The Praetors lunged for me, but it was too late; I'd made my decision. Falling into a deep hole was sure to be a bad thing. It smelled awful, was sure to cause me any number of injuries, and would be full of prisoners who'd take pleasure in adding to those injuries.

  On the other hand, there were Praetors up here. It wasn't a difficult choice.

  With one more roll, the bulk of my weight went through the hole, sending me in almost a dive toward the dark ground below.

  I crashed on my side onto solid rock, feeling shock waves course through my body as they encountered what was likely several broken bones. It had been at least a twelve-foot fall. Dizziness encompassed me. Even on the hard rock floor, I had trouble figuring out which way was up. My breath entered with sharp gasps, and failed to release until my body was forced into it. Something warm and wet was pooling beneath my head.

  "Get the rope!" Brutus said. "Lower me down!"

  I couldn't move. Magic was returning to me, but I wouldn't be able to heal myself before he got down here. The room echoed with dripping water. This dark dungeon was a cistern similar to where Aurelia had held me when I'd first been lost in the sewers. That had to be the source of the dripping water now.

  The moans I'd heard before had stopped when I first crashed, but they had started again and were coming closer.

  Barely within my field of vision, the end of the rope dropped to the floor, landing close to where my feet lay. I heard Brutus swing his weight inside the hole.

  I closed my eyes, exhausted, and in so much pain it hurt to breathe. What was this place?

  The dripping water, the horrid smell -- it reminded me of the Cloaca Maxima. At the moment, it was the only place I could visualize with any clarity. How many times had it saved my life in the past? It would have to do so one more time.

  "He might not have survived the fall," Brutus called up to his men. "I'll check."

  He released the rope and jumped the remaining distance to the ground. My eyes were still closed, and though I heard the slap of his sandals onto the rock floor, I wasn't a part of the dungeon anymore, not really.

  Instead, I was focused on the sound of the water, on the stench of the sewers, which was already thick around me. But I'd been in places far worse than this before, where it was impossible to keep the noxious odor from clinging to your skin. As soon as I had a clear picture of that place, I was there.

  Brutus had probably tried to put a hand on me within the same second as I had vanished from the dungeon. I'd reappeared here, somewhere in the Cloaca Maxima, as lost as I ever was in this place. At least when I'd come here before, I'd had some orientation as to where I entered. Now that was impossible. I could be anywhere within the maze. I was lying on the narrow walkway only inches above where the sewage flowed, which was disgusting, but it was enough for now. I needed to heal.

  Without magic, I never could've survived that fall, and even with magic, I knew how damaged my body was. I lay there for almost an hour just to regain enough strength to begin healing myself.

  The process was slow, but I worked in order of places that hurt the most, or that seemed the most vital to be healed. My chest and ribs first. My leg nearer the end. Even after I was healed, it was at least another hour before I could do anything more than sit up. And that was with the help of magic. No wonder it was taking Radulf so long to regain his strength.

  Once I was on my feet again, I debated what might be the best next step. Brutus was the chairman of Radulf's trial, and I suspected once he lost me, he had gone directly to the trial. It was probably over already, and maybe had ended a long time ago. I doubted Brutus would mak
e it any longer than it had to be. He wasn't interested in fairness or justice. He wanted Radulf's execution. I had to find out where it would be and stop it.

  Aurelia and Livia would know. They would have been at the trial and would follow Radulf as far as they could to his end. I still wasn't as strong as I could've been, but time was not on my side and so I only hoped I was not about to send myself to a place where a fight was already under way. The way I felt, I wouldn't do much good there.

  I closed my eyes and pictured Aurelia in my head. Her smile, the gentle curls of her hair. The way her eyes had looked the first time I saw her, in a field outside of Rome. It was so easy to picture her, and suddenly, I saw that image moving. She was in a crowded place. And I was there with her.

  As it turned out, I did arrive at a place where there was fighting, though it fortunately wouldn't involve me.

  Aurelia was headed out of a tunnel of the amphitheater, toward the seats. Below her, the crowd cheered. A bulky gladiator was already in the arena, his arms raised in victory while slaves carried a still body out of the west gate, known as the Gate of Death. The gladiator pumped his arms in victory, calling for even more cheers and admiration. The slave boy Donnan had told me there were games today.

  "Nic? Where did you come from?" Aurelia grabbed me and pressed me against the wall, blocking my body with hers in case others had seen the unexpected mode of my arrival. "How did you know I was here?"

  "I didn't. I just --" I searched for the right words, and failed. "Why are you here?" There was only one reason Aurelia would've come to the amphitheater today.

  Her eyes darted sideways. No one was paying us any special attention, at least not right now. "Radulf's trial is over."

  "And this is his sentence?" I stepped out of the tunnels where I could see into the arena better. "He's to be executed in the games?"

  "It's not an outright execution," Aurelia said, following me. "He has a chance, but not a good one." She pulled me aside again, out of the main flow of the crowd. "The trial didn't go well at all. Radulf put up no defense for himself. He barely spoke a word the entire time. I think he's so lost without his magic that he really doesn't care what happens to him. Because of that, nobody could vote for his innocence."

  "What about Nasica?" I asked. "The bribe?"

  She nodded at the bracelet on her wrist, the one that had been a gift from Crispus. "This is the only thing I have left of any value. You were right not to trust Nasica." Her sigh that followed was filled with regret. "He accepted money from Brutus as well, more than what I had to give him. Crispus did suggest to the other judges that Radulf should be shown mercy, given that Radulf is a war hero and has been popular with the people. Nasica wasn't convinced until he thought about the games today and realized maybe he would be more popular if he could donate another fight to the mob."

  "Brutus allowed this?" I had expected he'd prefer a more certain execution.

  "He was furious, but he had no choice. The judges had spoken. Radulf was taken immediately here, where they are preparing him for one of the upcoming fights."

  "He can't save himself." My heart was already pounding in anticipation of what was coming. "I saw him before they took him away for the trial. He won't last a minute in there."

  "I know," Aurelia said. "But until you came just now, nothing more could be done for him."

  "Is Livia here?" I asked. "And Crispus?"

  Aurelia took my hand and led me back into the crowd of onlookers. "Although Radulf lost at trial, Crispus made a passionate speech to save him, which impressed the emperor. You should've heard it, he was amazing! Because of that, he's been invited to sit near the emperor for the games, which is a great honor."

  I scanned the lower seats until I saw the imperial box. Our new emperor was named Marcus Aurelius Probus. He was standing in his box and had just waved his arms, permitting a new fight to begin. Emperor Probus was tall with short brown hair and a long, narrow face. He was said to have been a skilled military commander who was tough but also fair. I hoped that was still true. If Probus was fair, we at least had some chance today.

  Crispus sat tall behind Probus, clearly proud to have been invited into the imperial box. Usually, that was reserved only for the emperor's family and his closest counselors, but his family didn't seem to have come and the counselors were pushed to upper rows. Crispus's speech must've been as impressive as Aurelia said, though it had failed to win Radulf's freedom. That was all I really cared about. As I watched, Probus said something to Crispus, who nodded and replied. I wanted to think Crispus was still trying to win mercy for Radulf.

  And perhaps he might've been successful, if another man had not entered the imperial box as well. Decimas Brutus had come, though he was in an expensive yellow toga now, not in the dark tunic in which I had last seen him. He bowed low to Probus, at first kissing the hem of his purple robes, then kissing his hand as well. Once he rose, he seemed to offer a greeting to Crispus. Crispus looked at Brutus, then, without a word or even a nod of acknowledgment, turned away.

  My heart sank. Whatever argument Crispus might make in Radulf's favor, Brutus would be there to immediately counter it.

  Aurelia released my hand to point out where my sister was sitting. "People have begun staring at you, Nic, and not in a good way. Let's go sit down. Livia is in the upper tier, waiting for me. She'll be relieved to see you too."

  Their seats were high in the amphitheater stands, where only the poorest of citizens could afford to sit. That certainly described me and Livia, and Aurelia now as well.

  The sounds from the arena still carried up here, but we were so far from the action on the floor that I'd have only a vague idea of how Radulf was doing. Not that the outcome was in any doubt. Radulf was strong and a good fighter, but his many victories as a gladiator had come because of magic. Now, weakened, out of practice, and with little enthusiasm for his own life, he had no chance at all.

  Aurelia looked back at me as we climbed. "No offense, but you smell awful. Almost like you were in the sewers again." As I remained quiet, her smile fell. "Nic, you weren't."

  At least the sewage waters had washed the blood from my tunic, though the fabric was cut where Brutus's knife had been. I hoped she wouldn't think too much about the cut.

  "I had a hard time finding fresh water before I left," I said.

  Aurelia shook her head. "I don't want to know why you were there. I'm just happy you finally got out without me needing to come in and help."

  Livia waved when she saw us approaching and started to offer me a hug, until she sniffed and then pushed away. I took no offense at that. If it was possible, I'd get away from myself too.

  Rather than ask about why I smelled like something that had crawled out from the underworld, Livia merely crouched down to a sack at her feet and pulled out some olives and crackers. "I'm sure you're hungry. You probably haven't eaten yet today."

  I was hungry and was even more grateful to not have to answer any questions. I'd already swallowed most of the olives and several crackers before Livia also found some cheese that she said was meant to go with those crackers.

  "They'll meet up in my stomach," I told her as I reached for the cheese.

  The gladiator who had claimed victory until now wore a helmet and chain mail almost to his knees, and was armed with a long sword he clearly knew how to use. His new opponent was a red-haired man who was armed with a crescent blade, and for the most part, they had been equally matched against each other. But that changed when the gladiator swiped the man across the leg with his sword, leaving a deep wound. He could still walk, but barely, and the gladiator took the opportunity to heighten his attack. It was only a few clashes of their swords later when the man fell and the crowd cheered.

  It disgusted me. Despite my love for this great city, and even my admiration for the greatness of the empire, I wished to leave all of it behind. At its finest, Rome was unconquerable on the battlefield. But here, where blood was entertainment, Rome deserved to fall. They wer
e no better than the bands of thieves and murderers who used to stalk the streets of Gaul.

  Aurelia elbowed me. "I think Radulf will be coming out soon. Look -- the emperor is standing again."

  While slaves cleared the arena, Probus waved his arms to get the crowd's attention. When it had quieted down, he called out, "Our next match returns to us an old favorite of the games. Years ago, I watched him myself, fascinated by his unique style and reputation for never losing a match. For that reason, his popularity grew, so much that he eventually became a general within the empire, one of our finest generals. However, my friends, power corrupted him. Or perhaps the escaped slave with magic, Nicolas Calva, corrupted him."

  "Put your head down," Aurelia hissed at me. Some people around us had already recognized me. I'd heard their whispers of my name.

  I should've done as she suggested, but I was still looking at Crispus and Brutus, now sitting on opposite sides of the emperor. Brutus was casually reclined, smug and certain all was in his favor. Crispus was the very opposite. He looked as nervous as I felt.

  The emperor continued, "So we will let the gods decide. Is General Flavius Radulf Avitus a hero to Rome? If so, may the gods favor him and give him one more victory." Cheers followed until he added, "But if General Radulf is a traitor to Rome, may the gods punish him with death. Release the general!"

  The gladiator turned around in the arena until he heard the sound of a door opening in the floor. Doors sprang open from the sand. Radulf's head rose up from below as he was delivered to the battle.

  His clothes had been changed from the toga in which he had gone to trial. Now he was in a simple white tunic with a thin rope belted at the waist. He had a mace in one hand, but only held it limply at his side. Even more disturbing was the way his head hung low, as if he had no will to even try to save himself.

  "Look at him," Aurelia breathed as she clasped Livia's hand in her own. "He isn't going to fight."