The Tyrant's Tomb

He turned his grimacing face mask toward the Kodiak bear. “Well, Frank
Zhang? You have a chance to surrender with honor. Bow to your emperor!”
“Emperors,” Commodus corrected.
“Yes, of course,” Caligula said smoothly. “Praetor Zhang, you are dutybound
to recognize Roman authority, and we are it! Together, we can rebuild
this camp and raise your legion to glory! No more hiding. No more cowering
behind Terminus’s weak boundaries. It is time to be true Romans and
conquer the world. Join us. Learn from Jason Grace’s mistake.”
I howled again. This time, I launched an arrow at Commodus. Yes, it was
petty. I thought I could hit a blind emperor more easily, but he, too, swatted
the arrow away.
“Cheap shot, Apollo!” he yelled. “There’s nothing wrong with my
hearing or my reflexes.”
The Kodiak bear bellowed. With one claw, he broke the arrow shafts in
his shoulder. He shrank, changing into Frank Zhang. The arrow stubs pierced
his breastplate at the shoulder. He’d lost his helmet. The side of his body was
soaked in blood, but his expression was pure determination.
Next to him, Hannibal trumpeted and pawed the pavement, ready to
charge.
“No, buddy.” Frank glanced at his last dozen comrades, weary and
wounded but still ready to follow him to the death. “Enough blood has been
shed.”
Caligula inclined his head in agreement. “So, you yield, then?”
“Oh, no.” Frank straightened, though the effort made him wince. “I have
an alternative solution. Spolia opima.”
Nervous murmurs rippled through the emperors’ columns. Some of the
Germani raised their bushy eyebrows. A few of Frank’s legionnaires looked
like they wanted to say something—Are you crazy?, for instance—but they
held their tongues.
Commodus laughed. He pulled off his helmet, revealing his shaggy curls
and beard, his cruel, handsome face. His gaze was milky and unfocused, the
skin around his eyes still pitted as if he’d been splashed with acid.
“Single combat?” He grinned. “I love this idea!”
“I’ll take you both,” Frank offered. “You and Caligula against me. You
win and make it through the tunnel, the camp is yours.”
Commodus rubbed his hands. “Glorious!”