Wrath of the Storm (Mark of the Thief 3)

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."

"If he did, could he win this battle?" Livia asked.

I spoke the words under my breath, hoping that against the sound of the crowd's applause she would not be able to hear me.

"No. He cannot win."

Radulf had barely gotten his footing on solid ground when the gladiator attacked him for the first time, swinging for a quick victory with the sword in his hand. Radulf dodged it, but made no reply with the mace he had been given. I wasn't sure how much experience Radulf had with a mace -- probably not as much as with a sword. But Radulf had relied on his magic for so long, I doubted he really knew how to fight without it anymore.

I wondered if that would eventually happen to me. I loved the feel of magic, the strength and power it offered. But I didn't want to need it, to be useless without it.

The gladiator charged at Radulf again, his sword above his head, ready for a strike. Radulf stood as if welcoming the attack, then at the last moment stepped aside, leaving one leg in the gladiator's path, tripping him. The gladiator fell forward and Radulf hit him in the back with the blunt end of his mace. It would leave a bruise, but nothing else.

"Why didn't he do more?" Aurelia asked. "That was his moment."

The crowd had a mixed response to Radulf's non-attack. They half booed what they saw as his cowardice. And half cheered, expecting he was only toying with the gladiator before launching his real assault. Nobody cheered because Radulf had shown mercy. Nobody in Rome ever cheered for that.

Radulf limped away without noticing the gladiator jump to his feet, ready for revenge. He raised his sword again, and Radulf still hadn't turned around. It would be an easy defeat ... unless I helped. With a little swipe of my fingers, the gladiator fell forward, as if his sandals had been laced together.

Laughter erupted throughout the audience as the crowd shouted out insults about the gladiator's clumsiness. Embarrassed and ready to redeem himself, the gladiator got to his feet again, this time lunging toward Radulf with his sword outstretched.

Unfortunately for him, he tripped on those invisibly laced sandals a second time. I shouldn't have been grinning to see it, but I couldn't help it. The audience roared with laughter, and the gladiator remained seated, clearly confused. He checked his feet to see what the problem might be, and looked even more confused when he couldn't see any problem at all.

Radulf knew what had happened. He stopped walking and began scanning the stands with his hand over his eyes to block the sun.