The Tyrant's Tomb

My line of vision was reduced to a blurry red cone, but I focused on
Commodus’s calves as he paced in front of me, thanking his adoring fans.
Strapped to the inside of his calf was a sheathed dagger.
He had always carried one of those back in the old days. When you’re an
emperor, the paranoia never stops. You could be assassinated by your
housekeeper, your waiter, your launderer, your best friend. And then, despite
all your precautions, your godly ex-lover disguised as your wrestling trainer
ends up drowning you in your bathtub. Surprise!
Hobble Commodus, Frank had told me.
I had no energy left, but I owed Frank a last request.
My body screamed in protest as I stretched out my hand and grabbed the
dagger. It slipped easily from its sheath—kept well-oiled for a quick draw.
Commodus didn’t even notice. I stabbed him in the back of the left knee,
then the right before he had even registered the pain. He screamed and
toppled forward, spewing Latin obscenities I hadn’t heard since the reign of
Vespasian.
Hobbling accomplished. I dropped the knife, all my willpower gone. I
waited to see what would kill me. The emperors? The zombie poison? The
suspense?
I craned my neck to see how my friend the common swift was doing. Not
well, it turned out. Caligula scored a lucky hit with the flat of his blade,
smacking Frank into the wall. The little bird tumbled limply, and Frank
shifted back into human form just in time for his face to hit the pavement.
Caligula grinned at me, his wounded eye closed tight, his voice filled
with hideous glee. “Are you watching, Apollo? You remember what happens
next?”
He raised his sword over Frank’s back.
“NO!” I screamed.
I could not witness another friend’s death. Somehow, I got to my feet,
but I was much too slow. Caligula brought down his blade…which bent in
half like a pipe cleaner against Frank’s cloak. Thank the gods of military
fashion statements! Frank’s praetor’s cape could turn back weapons, even as
its ability to transform into a sweater wrap remained unknown.
Caligula snarled in frustration. He drew his dagger, but Frank had
recovered enough strength to stand. He slammed Caligula against the wall
and wrapped his good hand around the emperor’s throat.
“Time’s up!” he roared.