A cheer erupted from half of the crowd. The other half groaned with disappointment. Cooper glanced into the arena to see that one of the gladiators was on his back with a sword sticking out of his chest. The victorious gladiator stood over his fallen victim, raising his fists in celebration. The people in the stadium were out of control, either cheering or booing.
The winning gladiator grabbed the handle of his sword and yanked it out of his victim. There was no blood. Spirits didn't bleed. The losing gladiator sat up and struggled to his feet while clutching his wound. As soon as he stood, the entire crowd jeered. Losers got no respect.
It was an ugly glimpse into the darker side of the human psyche. Coop couldn't imagine being there in the days when blood was actually spilled.
A trumpet fanfare blasted through the stadium. It was the call for the next battle. Coop took it as his chance. While people milled about, stretching their legs between bouts, he made his way back through the tunnel and found a set of stairs leading up to the next level and the emperor's box. His plan was to try and get to the emperor during the next battle while all eyes were focused on the gladiators. He sprinted up the narrow stairway and came out onto a wide walkway that circled the Colosseum, just like in a modern stadium. The only thing missing was the hot dog concessions. He ran until he came upon a tunnel that would bring him close to the emperor's box and was happy to see that there were no guards stationed at the mouth. He ducked into the narrow tunnel and sprinted until he reached the far end. Peeking out, he saw that he was only a few aisles away from the emperor's box. Perfect. He stayed in the shadow of the tunnel, waiting for his chance.
The trumpets sounded again and two gladiators entered the arena from opposite ends. He couldn't have cared less who they were. If they wanted to fight it out in the afterlife, that was their choice. It was probably how they lived and died in the Light anyway.
The crowd let out a cheer. The previous fight had been forgotten and they were getting themselves fired up for a little more old-fashioned gladiator thumping. The two combatants walked slowly to the center of the sand-covered arena. One guy was big, with full armor and a shaved head. The other gladiator was a foot shorter with long curly black hair. He wasn't a close match to the other guy, either in height or weight. It was obvious which fighter had the advantage. Coop hoped the fight would last long enough so that he could get a few words in with the emperor. He stepped out from the cool shadow of the tunnel into the burning hot sun, headed for the emperor's box. No guards were there, either. There was no need to protect the emperor, seeing as he was already dead. Along with everybody else. Coop was a few steps away from the box when he glanced down to the arena to try and judge when the fight might begin.
The two gladiators stood face-to-face in the center of the ring.
Coop got a better look at them both—and froze. He stared at the two combatants, hoping he was wrong about what he was seeing. As with the previous fight, the gladiators were armed with swords and shields. But unlike in the previous battle, the swords looked different. They were smaller. They didn't catch the light of the sun.
They were black.
"Oh man," Coop gasped. Instead of continuing on to the emperor's box, Coop ran down the steep steps past rows of benches packed with eager spectators and right up to the edge of the second level. He wanted to get a better look at the gladiators and their swords in the hope that he was wrong.
He wasn't. The weapons they carried were not made from ordinary metal. They were black spirit-killing swords that had come through the Rift from the Light into the Black. The barbaric spectacle had suddenly taken on a more ominous tone. The loser of this battle wouldn't be able to pull the sword from their gut, shrug, and live to fight another day. The spirit who got pierced by one of those swords would be destroyed. For good.
Did those gladiators know the power of the weapons they held? Did the spectators know that this time they actually were going to witness a battle to the death? Was this why Damon had come to this vision, to bring his lust for destruction to yet another vision?
The gladiators circled each other. Until that moment the back of the gladiator with the long hair was to Cooper. As they moved, they exchanged places and Cooper caught a glimpse of the face of the smaller combatant.
It made his knees grow weak.
"My god," he muttered.
The small gladiator . . . was Zoe.
He had found one of the missing spirits, and wished he hadn't. Any doubt Coop had about Damon being in that vision was gone. Zoe was about to be destroyed in a very public way, but to what end? Revenge against her father, Adeipho? Retribution for having lost the Rift? Or was it just another example of Damon's sadism? Whatever the reason, Zoe would have no chance against her massive opponent.
Coop turned and sprinted up the stairs to the emperor's box. He only had seconds before the battle would begin. He vaulted over the low wooden rail and landed directly in front of the only guard who was there to protect the boss. Before the oblivious guard could react, Coop jabbed one punch to his throat and followed with a solid hook to his cheek. The stunned guard's head snapped to the side as he tumbled to his knees, clutching his throat.
If the emperor was surprised, he didn't show it. He turned in his ornately carved golden throne and peered down his nose at Cooper as if he were no more of a threat than a fly that someone beneath his station should have swatted for him.
"Your . . . Emperor-ness-Majesty, whatever," Coop huffed, catching his breath. "You can't let them fight. Not with those weapons. This isn't for show. Those black swords could destroy them."
The emperor tilted his head like a curious cat, trying to understand why a strange guy from a modern vision had dared to intrude on his personal spectacle.
"Please," Coop begged. "Stop the fight."
Titus opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by another spectator who was sitting in the far corner of the royal box.
"I see you have taken the bait," the man declared.
The hair went up on the back of Coop's neck. He knew the voice. He spun quickly to see that the spectator had risen to face him.
"The glove, please," the man said, holding out his hand.
Coop pulled the glove from his back pocket, held it out . . . and dropped it on the floor.
The spectator didn't react.
"Bait?" Cooper repeated. "You wanted me to find you?"
"Of course," the man said with a sly smile that revealed his pointed front teeth. He reached down, picked up the glove, and slipped his hand into it. "And now that you are here, the next act of our little drama can begin."
Cooper's hunt was officially over.
Damon of Epirus was back in the game.
6
"Stop the fight," Coop demanded.
"You are assuming I have that power," Damon replied coyly.
"Give me a break. This is all about you. How else would they have gotten the black swords?"
Damon glanced to the arena floor, where Zoe and the gladiator stood poised, ready to do battle.
"I suppose it could be stopped," Damon said, sounding less than enthused. "But why disappoint all of these spirits who are so looking forward to the contest? It isn't often that they can actually witness a true fight to the death."
The crowd had grown eerily quiet as if holding a collective breath in anticipation of the impending battle. Many eyes were on Coop and Damon, fascinated by the standoff that was being played out in the emperor's box.
"What's the point?" Coop asked. "Revenge?"
Damon chuckled. "Revenge against the daughter of Adeipho is a bonus, yes, but nothing more. My ultimate goal remains the same."
"The poleax," Coop declared.
"And you can help me get it."
"What if I don't?"
Damon took a threatening step closer to Cooper.
"Do not make the mistake of thinking you have gained an advantage by my having lost the Rift."
"You lost your army too," Coop said, not back
ing down. "Let's not forget that little detail."
Damon shook his head in wonder.
"As always, so confident. But why?" He gestured down to the arena floor and said, "Because you have found the daughter of the traitor Adeipho? Congratulations. But what of the others? The girl Maggie. And Foley, your grandfather? And of course the Seaver woman. Where could they be?"
Cooper had all he could do to hold himself back from lashing out and drilling his fist into Damon's smug face.
"I hold all of their lives in my hand, including that annoying urchin down there who is about to meet her end. Tell me, Foley, are you willing to risk their eternals souls?"
Cooper's body tensed as his anger grew.
"And then of course there is your sister," Damon continued. "The poor girl nearly leaped to her death from that burning building. How much longer will her luck, and the luck of Marshall Seaver, last?"
"It isn't luck," Cooper said. "The crucible is protecting them."
"For now, but they are young. Most of their natural lives still lie before them. All it would take is one mistake over that lifetime, and they'd be mine. It could be ten minutes from now, or ten years. I am nothing if not patient. And I promise you, they will make a mistake, and when they do, I will be there waiting . . . as I was with Ennis Mobley."
"Ennis? What about him?" Coop asked, not able to hide his surprise.
"Didn't you know?" Damon asked with mock surprise. "He has journeyed farther along the Morpheus Road."
"You killed him too?" Coop declared, rocked.
Damon shrugged and said, "The choice was his." Cooper took an impulse step toward Damon, but stopped himself quickly. He knew he had to stay in control.
"You have the power, Foley," Damon continued. "Especially now that you can communicate with your friends in the Light. Find the poleax, deliver it to me, and those you care about will be safe."
They were back to square one. As they stood facing each other under the hot sun, and the hotter gaze of thousands of spectators, Coop knew that there would be no reasoning with Damon. No negotiation. There was only one way to stop him, and that was by doing what Coop did best.
He looked to the emperor and said, "You have no idea what trouble you're getting into with this guy."
Emperor Titus shrugged and said, "Perhaps trouble is what I seek."
That was all Coop needed to hear. He was on his own. Before another word could be spoken, he swooped down and grabbed the spear from the guard he had knocked senseless.
"Oh must you?" Damon whined with annoyance.
Coop didn't attack. He ran. Leaping out of the box, he sprinted down the stone stairs, two at a time, headed for the edge of the balcony.
"Begin the contest!" Damon bellowed to the emperor.
Obediently Emperor Titus raised his right hand. Trumpets sounded and the stadium erupted with ecstatic cheers. They were going to have their battle.
Several Roman soldiers ran down the stairs to stop Cooper, but too late. He reached the edge of the balcony, looked over, and saw what he needed. A heavy rope net hung straight down from the balcony to protect the spectators below from stray weapons that might fly into the stands. Coop used it as a ladder. He tossed the spear over the edge, flung his legs over, grabbed on to the netting, and quickly climbed down.
None of the spectators moved to stop him. Their attention was focused on the arena and the fight that had finally begun.
As Coop hit the lower level and recovered the spear, a cheer erupted for the big gladiator who was pummeling Zoe. The girl valiantly held up her shield to defend herself against his vicious blows but was hopelessly overmatched.
Clutching the spear, Cooper sprinted for the brick wall that surrounded the arena. While still running, he tossed the spear over the wall and then hit the bricks, digging the toes of his red Pumas into the mortar seams. He quickly climbed to the top and vaulted to the other side, landing in the dry sand of the arena.
Several spectators cheered as they realized the game had taken on a new wrinkle. Coop grabbed the spear and sprinted toward the center of the arena, and the battle. The screams from the crowd grew louder. Some cheered him on while others were trying to warn the gladiators that a new contestant was about to enter the fray.
Coop had no time to plan his strategy. He was a street fighter, not a trained warrior. If he had stopped to think about how to attack the gladiator, he wouldn't have done what he did. Coop was flying on adrenaline, fear . . . and hate. To him the gladiator who was hammering away at Zoe represented Damon. It made what he had to do that much easier.
Zoe fell to the ground, holding up her shield in defense. She was exhausted.
The gladiator raised his sword high, ready to end the battle with one final blow.
Zoe valiantly lifted her shield to protect herself.
The gladiator bellowed with bloodlust . . . and the scream caught in his throat as he froze, holding the sword poised high.
Zoe stared up at him, confused. What had happened? Why hadn't he finished her? She dropped her eyes and saw the reason: A pointed metal blade stuck out from his chest. Behind him, Cooper stood with both hands on the shaft of the spear.
"This won't stop him for long," Coop said quickly. "We gotta go."
The gladiator dropped to his knees in a haze of pain and confusion. He wasn't going to die, he was going to get angry. "Fool!" Zoe scolded.
"Uh . . . what?" Coop replied, stunned.
The gladiator had gathered his wits and let out an angry holler that echoed through the stadium.
"Follow!" Zoe commanded, and took off running, sprinting for the gladiator's entrance to the arena.
Coop let go of the spear and followed quickly.
The boos rained down on them. The spirit spectators had expected a battle to the death, not a cowardly sprint for freedom.
Several soldiers clambered over the brick wall and into the arena to give chase.
Zoe hit the tunnel that led beneath the stands and didn't stop. Cooper was right behind.
"You should not have interfered!" she screamed angrily.
"Hey, I just saved you!" Coop yelled back.
"And condemned the others to death."
"What others?"
Zoe led Cooper into the bowels of the Colosseum, following a twisted route through narrow stone passageways and down steep wooden stairways. The rank smell of animals and sour sweat grew stronger the farther they descended.
"What do you mean?" Coop gasped as they ran. "Who's condemned?"
"Your friend Maggie."
"Where is she?" Coop yelled back, stunned.
"Here," Zoe answered. "Damon threatened to destroy them if I did not do battle."
"Them?"
"Your grandfather is here as well."
Coop didn't know whether to be relieved or horrified. "But . . . why don't you all just leave? It's not like he can lock you up."
"We stayed to protect Ree," Zoe answered, breathless. "Now you've condemned them all."
They hit the lowest subterranean level, where the only light came through narrow slits in the walls that allowed in a small hint of the sun. The tight corridor opened up into a wide paddock that was lined with cages. The floor was wet and the animal smell so strong that Coop had to fight to keep from gagging.
They were met by the angry growls of surprised lions, who resented the intrusion on their nap time. One male lion lunged at the bars of his cage, biting at the wooden bars. Coop instinctively jumped away, but slammed into the opposite cage that held an annoyed bear that tried to reach its paw out to slash him.
Zoe didn't stop running, so Coop had to collect himself quickly and keep moving. He passed more cages that were homes to tigers, hippos, and even a few ostriches. All were there to provide amusement for the bloodthirsty spectators in the arena above, the same as when the Colosseum was open for business in the Light centuries before.
Beyond the paddock they moved through an equally dank corridor of cells that were used to house slaves bound f
or the arena. None were occupied. Spirits in the Black had choices, and none chose to be torn apart by lions for the amusement of others. The stretch of dark cells gave way to a wider corridor with better ventilation and light. These were the cells where the gladiators prepared for battle. Each room had a crude bed, table, and chair. They weren't luxurious, but were far more comfortable than the slave quarters. These too were empty.
Zoe ran into the final room that was lined with several large cells. It was the place where the most popular and successful gladiators prepped. Cooper entered the spacious area to see that Zoe had stopped and was standing in the open doorway to one of the cells. Coop skidded to a stop and gulped air that was hot and worse than stale, but he was grateful to be away from the animals and their overwhelming stink.
"We have to make a decision," Zoe said to someone inside. "Now, before Damon returns."
"Who's in there?" Coop called out.
A moment later Maggie Salinger stepped out of the cell. Her face brightened the moment she spotted her exhausted friend.
"Coop!" she exclaimed with joy.
Maggie ran to him and the two hugged. She didn't seem to care that he was drenched with sweat.
Coop held her close. It wasn't until that moment that he realized how much he had missed her . . . and how much he wanted to hold her. And protect her.
"So much has happened," she whispered.
"I know," he said. "We've got to get out of here."
"No can do," came a gruff voice.
Coop looked over Maggie's shoulder to see his grandfather, Eugene Foley, stepping out of the cell next to Zoe. "You okay?" he asked Zoe.
Zoe nodded.
Foley gave her a grandfatherly pat on the shoulder, then looked to Coop and said, "So? Where've you been?"
Coop reluctantly pulled himself away from Maggie and went to his gramps. The two hugged with genuine warmth. "Looking for you," was Coop's answer.