Lazarus Rising

1.22 Gladiators

The squat monk hurried through the candlelit passages like a priest late for a hanging of one of his own parishioners. Robes hitched up high about his ankles so he would not trip over them, he led Cheyenne through a maze of corridors at times so tight that she wondered if he'd be able to fit his rotund frame through the narrow spaces.

Confusingly, on the outset Urbaine had waved his two guards away. The enigmatic masked man as if nonplussed by her abduction of the monk, had turned away and stared out into the blushed blue darkness of the Martian night.

Expecting Urbaine to try to duck away into one of the deep recesses that lined the passageways Cheyenne kept the point of the iridescent blade she held at his back. As he scuttled along it quickly became apparent to her that, true to his word, he was intent on taking her to Lannius and Shelvocke.

Somehow, slipping away from the main corridors they had entered a series of hidden passageways within the Mono's citadel. Urbaine lifted a gloglobe above his head to light their way through the grasping shadows. Metal columns, reinforcing the structure of the tunnels, warm to the touch, caught the glow of Urbaine's torch and ran with eddies of inner light that guided their way through the endless snaking corridors.

At times the tight corridors opened into small rooms that allowed views into the vaulted halls of the fortress through a series of spy holes cut into the thick rock walls. They passed huge silent galleries, graced only by facades of huge metal gargoyles watching over simmering voids of darkness. For a while they chased the sound of men singing until the noise dissipated into the gloom around them to be replaced by a single female voice reciting a plaintive old Earth tune that Cheyenne had known as a child. As they passed the source of the sound, Cheyenne looked down into a long gallery and could see it came from a young girl dressed in blue empting tables full of discarded food. Soon after, the intoxicating smell of kitchens wafted through the tunnels, the sensuous aroma of roasted meats drifting up to them to taunt their taste buds. Cheyenne could hear the clattering of pans and yelling of cook's instruction. She caught the brief glimpse of peculiar winged animal being roasted over a vast hearth as Urbaine whisked her past. Soon she was able to deduce they were in a rambling edifice built into the side of a soaring cliff of unimaginable size.

Once Urbaine faltered. She realised he was caught by the eerie sound of songs caused by air rising through tall, fluted columns set in an immense hall they were passing. As they peered through the spy hole she could see vapid desert moonbeams, radiating down from far above, falling in sapphire hued pools that lit up a distant dais and a long line of broken statues lying shattered on the cracked stone floors. As they stood, captured by the haunting sounds, distant noises came to them from deep within the fortress, the faraway cries of a new-born infant and the slow rhythmic chanting of a host of voices.

Finally breaking from the hypnotic music, Urbaine span on his heels and whisked himself away. Reluctantly Cheyenne followed.

As Urbaine raced ahead, Cheyenne slowed. She could hear the cheering of a crowd dully echoing through the walls. Draw by the sound she peered through a long slit in the wall. On the other side in an oval, high walled, sand strewn arena stood a hulk of a man stripped to the waist, loosely holding a rusted sword in his hand. On closer inspection she could see that he had a deformed back that gave him a slight, permanent stoop. In front of him, feet spread in a fighter's stance, a gladiatorial figure in a grisly fish shaped helmet causally flicked a net in the air that sparked and crackled as he span it causally round his head. In the other hand he held a long jagged edged trident braced under his arm, ready to thrust forward into the hunchback. Behind the hunchback another gladiator readied himself, a great brute of a man in an oval helmet drilled with holes with a heavy breast plate strapped across his chest. Above his head he spun a huge double edged axe in a slow figure of eight.