Empire Of The Undead by Ahimsa Kerp Read Free Book Online Page B

to a stop as the elephant moved its three good feet together, forming a wall in front of its vulnerable inside. The path to victory was suddenly, unexpectedly closed. The crowd cheered again and Felix and Hyacinthus cheered with it. The bull stopped in consternation.
    Behind it, the brown bull was screaming still. Its agony echoed through the vast coliseum. A force of the Praetorian Guard stood next to the vast gate, sharp blades ready to silence the poor beast, but they did not yet dare approach the titanic struggle.
    In one manic lunge, the elephant jerked itself back onto its feet. The bull backed up even more, trying to create room for another charge.
    The elephant charged first. It was slower now, with one foot maimed, but still far too fast. Somehow, with asymmetrical grace and head lowered, it rushed forward. It hit the black bull and lifted its powerful head. The bull, three thousand pounds of anger and muscle, was tossed ten feet into the air. Felix gasped.
    The bull landed on its feet, and woozily took a step. The elephant's charge caught it again. The tusks pierced the bull’s head and drove through to its brain. The great beast sagged and instantly died.
    “Unbelievable,” whispered Hyacinthus next to him.
    The Coliseum roared its hearty approval, but what happened next was even more astounding. The weary pachyderm walked unsteadily until it was standing directly below Emperor Titus. It swayed there for a moment, then fell to its knees and knelt before the Emperor. Ten times ten thousand throats fell silent, as people stood to witness the beast’s obeisance, and then the roar came back, better than ever. Rome had a new champion, and the people adored him.
    Felix felt relief flow through him. He had bet all the money he could find, and had borrowed from the type of men that he really shouldn’t have dealt with. If Hyacinthus had known, he would have sat on him rather than let him deal with them, but he had won, and with the day’s winnings he could do something much greater—enter the games himself. “Let’s go collect our winnings,” he said to Hyacinthus after they had cheered themselves hoarse. The big man had bet on the elephant, the bulls together, and both bulls individually. He would lose money today, but not much. They walked out of the stands, away from the still deafening chorus of cheers.
    The people of Rome needed the games like never before. Vespasian was dead. The old warrior had left Rome suddenly on urgent business and was found dead in a posting-inn. The gods themselves had grieved, and Rome suffered for their grief.
    A great fire abused the city, destroying prodigious amounts of life and property. It burned for three days and for three nights, as black smoke rising so high that the very sun turned red and the afternoon light turned gray. It rained ashes for days. Agrippa’s Pantheon was destroyed, as was the Temple of Jupiter and most of Pompey’s theater. Fire and ash was not the worst enemy, however.
    Plague came stalking through the ashes. This was worse, and not just the poor died. Disease was terribly indiscriminate, and many noblemen breathed their last. From the old and rich to the young and poor, the sickness struck all. The only ones seemingly unaffected were the Jews. The people of Rome noticed this, and lynchings became regular. Emperor Titus was forced to banish his favorite mistress, who was Jewish. Felix had stayed in his master’s stables for three weeks to avoid persecution.
    The gods were not satiated yet, however, and still worse was to come. The sacred Mt. Vesuvius unleashed its fiery fury, and instantly four towns had ceased to exist. The tens of thousands who lived in Pompeii, Herculaneum, Stabiae and Oplontis, died within moments, within heartbeats. This was the fractured, bleeding Empire that Titus had inherited. The people truly needed their games.
    Felix and Hyacinthus collected their winnings and quickly returned to the amphitheater. Felix carefully kept his