CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
“We’re under attack!” Marcus calls out, as Alaric and his supporters charge forward. Almost instantly, people start to cry out and scream, some running for the doors, some trying to get to weapons.
One of the guards runs at Alaric and he sidesteps the attack, bringing him down with a slash of his knives across the man’s hamstrings.
One of his followers clubs a merchant over the head, sending him spinning into unconsciousness.
Alaric’s rebels are charging into the old temple, attacking anyone who tries to fight back, anyone who tries to flee, and anyone who seems as though they’re a part of the games.
The two gladiators have stopped fighting one another and are now standing back to back with their blindfolds torn from their heads, using their weapons to keep Alaric's followers at bay. I see one of those followers fall with a wound across her stomach, and another suffers a slash across his arm.
“Why?” I demand of Thalia.
She shrugs. “It’s what Alaric wanted. You must know he can’t be talked out of anything he’s decided to do.”
She doesn’t say more than that, but rushes into the fight, kicking aside a bookmaker so that she can get to one of the injured rebels and kneeling so she can use her magic to try to heal them.
Around me, almost everyone seems to be fighting at once, either as part of one of the sides there, or simply to get away.
A number of guards and servants are down.
Alaric's followers seem to be trying to subdue them, perhaps intending to hand them over to the guards or maybe just to leave them somewhere public, along with details of everything they've been doing.
A couple of Alaric's people are following behind those knocking people down, tying their hands quickly.
But the shock of the first rush is starting to fade, though, and Marcus' people are fighting back.
The bodyguards of merchants and nobles are lashing out with blades, not holding back, the way Alaric's people are.
I see one of Alaric's followers cut down with his throat opened and blood pouring across the floor of the temple.
I stand there for several more seconds, trying to work out what I should do. Should I run? Should I fight on Alaric’s side? Should I try to stop his people from hurting innocent servants and onlookers?
One of his people comes at me, obviously not realizing who I am. I kick the man back, slipping into the crowd and hoping I can avoid the worst of the violence. I didn’t come here to kill anyone, didn’t come here to be a part of some mass brawl designed to stop the underground fight.
But with violence on every side of me, it isn’t as though I get a choice. One of the merchants’ bodyguards seems to realize that I came in with Alaric’s people and comes at me with daggers drawn.
I reach for the birds outside, taking in some of their grace and agility, slipping aside from the bodyguard’s attacks and slamming punches into the guard’s jaw until he falls. I keep moving, sidestepping a spot where two people are wrestling, still trying to work out what I should do here.
Then I see Marcus heading towards the back room of the temple, and I know where I need to go.
I wasn’t going to confront Marcus before, but only because it was too dangerous.
Now, danger is all around me, and there’s no reason to hold back.
I need to get to him. I need to learn, once and for all, what he intends for the city.
If he truly intends to make himself into a new emperor, I need to stop him.
I can't let him just get away with what he's done here.
Not with running bouts in which people die, and not with keeping the truth of what he's been doing from me.
It was bad enough before when he was working with Domitian, but at least there was an explanation then.
Now, I'm not sure what he can say that could make any of this better.
I push through the fight, going after Marcus. The fastest way is to cross the middle of the open floor where the two gladiators were fighting before and are now attacking anyone who comes close.
That includes me, it seems, because one of them swings his bladed staff at my head, forcing me to duck.
He swings low then, but thanks to the speed and grace I've borrowed from the birds, I'm fast enough to trap the weapon with my sandaled foot.
I lift up my other leg and stamp down on the staff, snapping it easily.
“Why are you fighting, you fools?” I demand of the two gladiators. “Why are you protecting people who are going to make you fight to the death? You need to flee here. Do you want to be caught up in all this?”
The gladiators look at me, staring at me for several seconds as my identity starts to sink in despite my disguise. I see the moment when they recognize me, looking from me to one another, before setting off in the direction of the door, trying to fight their way free of the temple.
The noise of the battle is overwhelming around me.
There are people screaming in fear, crying out in pain, and bellowing in anger.
There are curses and threats, which seem to mingle until they become a stream of hatred whose targets are hard to identify.
The ring of weapons clashing against one another and the thud of flesh slamming into flesh pervades the whole temple, profane against an environment dedicated to the gods.
At least now that Alaric’s people are fighting against a collection of bodyguards and hired thugs, it's giving the ordinary servants an opportunity to escape, fleeing into the night where they can. I could go the same way, but instead, I keep moving, heading for the doorway Marcus has gone through.
I reach it and pass through, into a space that has been refitted as a kind of preparation area similar to the ones below the Colosseum.
There are slabs for healing here and spaces for gladiators to warm up.
There's a small group of gladiators there, holding onto their weapons and standing as if they might hold back anyone who comes through the doors.
“What are you doing?” one of them demands. “Get back in there. We've been told not to let anyone through.”
“And since when do gladiators just do what they're told?” I counter. “Marcus gives you an order and you obey like soldiers?”
“You don't know anything about it,” another of the gladiators says.
I pull aside my dress at the shoulder to show the circular brand there with the lines through it.
The one that proclaims my status as a champion of the arena.
“Don't you recognize me? I know more about what it is to be a gladiator than most of you. I know that people like Marcus are using you, spending your lives as if they’re worth nothing. I’m Lyra Thornwind.
Which of you wants to stand in my way and stop me getting to him? ”
The gladiators look at one another nervously, then step back out of my way.
“You should go,” I tell them. “Get out of here while you can. You were paid to fight one another, not to stand guard.”
I step past them into a room that must once have been the quarters of the high priest of this temple.
Now, Marcus is in there, collecting things from a chest. He spins towards me as soon as he hears me enter the room, lashing out with lightning even before he can see who it is.
Thanks to my borrowed grace, I'm able to dodge aside from the attack, standing there in front of him with an accusatory look on my face.
“Lyra?” he says sounding shocked. “What are you doing here? Are you… are you a part of all this chaos?”
He's challenging me about what I'm doing here.
“What about you, Marcus?” I demand. “What are you doing here? What are you doing running death matches? Luring gladiators to take part? Sending them out there to their deaths?”
“They're paid well if they survive,” Marcus says, looking unrepentant.
“That's not the point, and you know it,” I snap back. “Before, when you were working with Domitian, I thought the idea was to stop fights like this.”
“It was to stop Domitian,” Marcus says. “He was planning to overthrow the Republic.”
“And you aren't?” I say. “Because that's what it looks like from here. You're setting up these fights underground, positioning yourself as the one providing what the nobles want. It seems like a good way to get money and power with which to seize Aetheria.”
Marcus's eyes widen. “That's not what I'm planning at all. I'm doing this for the Republic.”
“Having people fight to the death?” I say.
He sighs. “It's necessary, Lyra. I wish you could see that.
Are you so naive that you think that these fights won't exist if I don't put them on?
The people want them, so they're going to happen in some form.
If I'm the one controlling them, at least I can make sure they don't become a platform for someone like Domitian. Or Selene.”
“Do you want her dead because she's a threat to the city or just because you know she's a rival for control in it?” I ask.
He looks hurt. “You know me better than that, Lyra.”
“I thought I did,” I say. I gesture to the temple around us. “But then I found you here. And the more I think about you and the things you've done, the less certain I am of your motives. Even when you asked me to marry you, it was a political move. Do you care about me or just about power, Marcus?”
He looks hurt, and I’m not sure if he has any right to. “Of course I care about you, Lyra. Don't ever doubt that. But power is necessary if we're going to do what's right for the people of the city. If we don't have that power, then others will whole use it in far worse ways.”
Is he trying to convince me, or himself?
I've heard so many of his justifications, but I'm not sure if I can believe any of them.
I'm not sure if I can get past my anger to think clearly.
He's done so much to hurt me here, and now he's trying to explain it all away?
He moves closer, and I wonder if he's going to try to make me forget about all this with a kiss, but that isn't going to be enough this time.
Under different circumstances, maybe we could go somewhere to talk this through, but even then, I don't imagine there's any way he could convince me to put on death matches. But even as Marcus moves closer to me, the situation becomes still more difficult.
Alaric walks into the chambers, looking at me, looking at Marcus. He has blades in his hands, and those blades have blood on them. He stares at me as if I've betrayed him just by standing there with Marcu so close to me.
“You’re choosing him? Even after all this, you're choosing him?”