I burst into the Forum past stunned Praetorians, drawing silence and worried eyes from those nearby. I ignore them and race for the group still standing in the shadows atop the stairs. I left them not an hour ago.
Conversation still mutters and roils, uneasy but nothing more, as I forge my way between the tightly clustered groups of senators. Up ahead Indol spots me, frowns, and says something to the others, who turn to watch. Felix looks amused. Emissa and Aequa are frowning, perhaps seeing my expression. I cannot see Eidhin.
I am not halfway up the stairs when I spot the runner shoving his way through the crowd to deliver his message. Then another. Then another, like ants scurrying through grass. More flow in from the sides.
I slow. Watch it unfold as I press on, despite myself. Word moves like a wave, sweeping the Forum. People’s faces draining of colour. Murmuring turning to angry muttering as groups begin distancing themselves from one another. People shifting so that they stand back-to-back. Bracing. No eye I can see has colour in it, anymore.
“What’s going on?” Emissa says it calmly, but I can see her rising unease as she takes in the scene below.
“Something happened in the Military compound. I don’t know what, but it sounds bad.” I hesitate. “Some sort of attack.”
“Rottinggods.” Everyone grasps the enormity of what I’m saying immediately, but it’s Indol responding, his face white. “Are the senators on their way back?”
The crowd noise is getting louder. Angrier. Shouts. Recriminations. Confusion.
“Probably. And we don’t want to be here when they do.” I cast a desperate glance around, but can’t spot Tertius Ericius. Or Livia. Not that my warning would do them much good now, anyway. They have to know something is wrong. “All of us have to get out and get somewhere safe.”
“He’s right.” Felix, somewhat to my shock, is the first to act. He gives me a grim nod. “I’m going to find my parents.” He dashes down the stairs. Indol slaps me on the shoulder and follows him. Oblivious to the fact I watched his father die minutes ago. I feel like throwing up. Still, I have too much practice at keeping the truth from my face. He sees nothing as he departs.
The shouting is getting louder. Worse. The word “murder” begins repeatingin the cries. Echoing in different voices, becoming more furious, more frenetic. Fingers point, even as others try to calm the situation.
Then there is a scream. I see a Magnus Tertius and several Magnus Quartii from Religion suddenly drop to their knees, faces pale. An instant later, some from Governance do the same.
“They’re killing the Magnus Octavii.” Emissa breathes it as I come to the same conclusion. She and Aequa are the only ones who haven’t moved.
Vek. Military’s Magnus Quartii are smarter than I gave them credit for. Another Quartus drops as I watch. Panic is rising. People are streaming for the exits, but those who remain are starting to shove one another. A tide of angry people colliding. “Where did Eidhin go?”
“Home. He should be alright,” Aequa says absently, her voice sounding far away as the accusations that Military are attacking now start. I see one of Religion’s Dimidii trying to speak reason, but an enraged Quartus abruptly slams his hand onto one of the stone benches that line the Forum. With a ripping, cracking sound, it breaks free.
He swings, and a Sextus from Military has his head caved in.
A stunned, horrified moment. Impossible for Catenans to contemplate. Birthright broken.
Then more benches are rising. Stones being torn from buildings. Thunderous fracturing and dust that reminds me of the naumachia. Shrieking screams of terror as people crush against one another in the laneways trying to flee.
“No,” whispers Aequa. Her voice shakes and she suddenly grips my hand so tightly it hurts. “Vis. Gods, no. Not again.”
Stone shatters into men too strong for it to hurt as Tertii and Dimidii imbue themselves against attack, then begin responding with their bare hands. Blood sprays and infuses the air with a despondently familiar metallic tang. Everywhere is a clash, everywhere a new and horrific violence. I’m frozen. Can’t stop staring.
“You two.” Emissa tugs on our sleeves, and both Aequa and I turn glazed eyes to her. She sees our clasped hands, but she sees why, too. Sees the collective trauma in our eyes. She takes a breath, then cups my face in her hand. Gentle. “Vis. Come on. That wolf of yours can get us out.”
It’s enough. I nod. Tug Aequa into motion.
And so we follow Emissa into the madness. Ducking through fight after fight. Stepping over bodies, some that groan, some that are broken and still.She was right; Diago’s growling presence deters most attacks and the one time it doesn’t, his teeth do. Fortunate; we’ve all self-imbued but only Aequa, as a Quintus, would have any real chance here among the Hierarchy’s gathered elite.
We reach the small, dark alley Emissa has been guiding us toward. Blessedly empty. I risk a glance back. Less furious motion now. People tiring. The Forum is destroyed. The beauty of the surrounding buildings vanished beneath blood and grit, chunk after chunk used as weapons. I cannot tell who won. I think perhaps there are more Governance and Religion senators standing. But it may be that there were simply more of them to begin with.
Ostius’s medallion sits cold against my chest.
“It’s not your fault, Vis,” whispers Aequa as she pulls me into the shadows. “No shame in running.”
And as the three of us stumble away through the dust and fear, Caten falls into chaos.
LVIII
WE STAND ON THE PEBBLE-STREWN SHORE AND WATCHas the ship that brought us fades toward the horizon. It is a grey morning; we sailed night and day for almost two weeks across sometimes stormy waters to get here. Our journey is reflected in dark circles beneath eyes, though the stance of every warrior remains proud and alert.
“It is time.” Lir’s hand is on my shoulder as the last of the ship vanishes around a bluff. He still carries my spear in the other, in addition to his staff.
