The Tyrant's Tomb

eight-foot-tall Kodiak bear—Frank Zhang, I assumed. Three arrows bristled
in his shoulder, but his claws were out and ready for more battle.
My heart twisted. Perhaps, as a large bear, Frank could survive with a
few arrows stuck in him. But what would happen when he tried to turn
human again?
As for the other survivors…I simply couldn’t believe they were all that
remained of three cohorts. Maybe the missing ones were wounded rather
than dead. Perhaps I should’ve taken comfort in the possibility that, for
every legionnaire who had fallen, hundreds of enemies had been destroyed.
But they looked so tragic, so hopelessly outnumbered guarding the entrance
to Camp Jupiter….
I lifted my gaze beyond the highway, out to the bay, and lost all hope.
The emperors’ fleet was still in position—a string of floating white palaces
ready to rain destruction upon us, then host a massive victory celebration.
Even if we somehow managed to destroy all the enemies remaining on
Highway 24, those yachts were beyond our reach. Whatever Lavinia had
been planning, she had apparently failed. With a single order, the emperors
could lay waste to the entire camp.
The clop of hooves and rattle of wheels drew my attention back to the
enemy lines. Their columns parted. The emperors themselves came out to
parley, standing side-by-side in a golden chariot.
Commodus and Caligula looked like they’d had a competition to pick the
gaudiest armor, and both of them had lost. They were clad head to toe in
Imperial gold: greaves, kilts, breastplates, gloves, helmets, all with elaborate
gorgon and Fury designs, encrusted with precious gems. Their faceplates
were fashioned like grimacing demons. I could only tell the two emperors
apart because Commodus was taller and broader in the shoulders.
Pulling the chariot were two white horses…No. Not horses. Their backs
carried long, ugly scars on either side of their spines. Their withers were
scored with lash marks. Their handlers/torturers walked beside them,
gripping their reins and keeping cattle prods ready in case the beasts got any
ideas.
Oh, gods…
I fell to my knees and retched. Of all the horrors I had seen, this struck
me as the worst of all. Those once-beautiful steeds were pegasi. What kind
of monster would cut off the wings of a pegasus?