I was approaching the next turn, the final one before the third lap would begin. A chariot to my right was pressing in on me, hoping to force me too close to the spine.
The Romans had a word for the crashes that happen here: naufragia. The same word also meant "shipwreck." The dual use of the word was no coincidence.
The charioteer pushed in until our chariots met, and he threw a punch at my arm holding the reins. It hurt like he'd clubbed me, and I nearly dropped the reins, which would have been disastrous. But I didn't drop them and, instead, realized that he had done worse to himself. For he had punched so hard that it cost him his balance, and as we rounded the spine, he crashed.
Naufragia.
Moments later, the bronze dolphin marked the third lap's beginning. I was as close to the inner track as anyone could be, enough that at some point I heard Radulf yelling at me. Or yelling for me, rather. He called my name with such hope and encouragement that I truly believed it was possible to win this, somehow.
I used my position to gain speed on the others. With superior teams of horses, they were far ahead, but they were also farther from the spine, so at least for now, I was keeping up with them.
Aurelia was the third chariot ahead of me now, and I was in sixth place. A total of nine competitors remained.
I urged the horses to go even faster. They must've believed they were already giving everything they had, but I knew otherwise.
When I had been a slave in the mines, there were many times when I had thought there was no way I could continue working. I had known exhaustion to the point of my very soul begging my body to lay in the dirt and give up. But I had reasons to keep going, and always, somehow, I found more strength.
These horses would find more strength too. I needed them to run faster.
By the beginning of the fourth lap, I had a stroke of luck. A chariot just in front of me was moving fast enough that I could not gain on him, but his position on the track also prevented me from edging around him. One of his horses kicked up enough dirt to reveal a curse tablet that had been buried on the track. This was supposed to be illegal, though it sometimes happened. Some Romans had faith in the gods to curse a charioteer. Others had even greater faith in the power of a lead tablet to trip a horse.
The horse stumbled against the lead tablet and brought the rest of his team down. The charioteer flew over the front of his chariot and landed on his horses, but immediately cut himself free. I expected him to run for safety, but instead he leapt for my chariot and got a hand on the rim. "You cursed boy!" he shouted. Which was a fine irony. Odds were that the tablet had been meant to trip my horses.
I veered my team in a sharp turn to avoid running over his, and the man fell without harming me. But his words stuck in my head. That I was cur
sed.
And with that thought, I looked up to see the fifth dolphin fall for the chariot farthest ahead. Two and a half laps remained for me, and I was now in fifth place out of eight competitors. That wasn't nearly enough time for what I needed to do.
When it came to their competitions, the Romans' definition of cheating was fairly lenient. As far as they were concerned, as long as the charioteer completed all seven laps, anything he did to destroy his competition was a fair race. So from the perspective of the audience in the stands, any violence on the circus track was great entertainment. If there were deaths in here, then the race was even better.
Avoiding the fallen chariot had cost me in the race. The team of horses directly behind me had caught up again, carrying the man with the whip. He came at me with a vengeance, slashing his whip in every direction, hoping to hit me.
When he finally did, my back arched with the pain, and I leaned backward, nearly losing my balance again.
Aurelia must've seen it. Above the crowd's noise, I heard her yelling something about what would happen to that man if she had her bow, and despite the sting in my back, I smiled and encouraged my horses to go faster and stay toward the middle. I took the reins in my right hand alone and turned sideways.
Though I wouldn't use magic to help me in the race, there was no doubt that magic had sharpened my reflexes. When the whip snapped again, I caught it in my hand. Where it hit bare skin, the whip cut my wrist and palm, but I swallowed the pain and yanked hard, pulling the man forward.
"Let go," I yelled. "Or I'll pull you to the ground."
"I'm stronger," he said. "I'll pull you off instead."
That was true enough. One quick tug on my end confirmed that. So I gave in and released the whip.
It happened just as the man tugged on his end, throwing his entire weight into the motion, intending to pull me down. Without my weight to balance him, he rolled backward off his own chariot, effectively pulling himself to the ground. His horses continued running, and the man was dragged by his reins. I looked back and saw his knife had fallen from his toga. He wouldn't be able to cut himself free. And I knew from personal experience how that felt. This man would be dragged to his death or run over first.
I shot out enough magic to snap his reins free from his chariot. Technically speaking, it was a small cheat, though not for myself. And I doubted anyone but me and that man knew what had happened. Neither of us would tell.
I was just beginning my fifth round, half a lap behind the leader, and I was no farther ahead than before. The horses of the man who had whipped me were a finer team than my own. Strong enough that it was worth the risk to get them. So I matched my speed with theirs and got as close as possible, until my chariot was even with his empty one. This was the reason I could not be tied into my chariot. I released my reins and grabbed the side of his chariot. Taking a deep breath, I leapt sideways.
There was a huge reaction from the crowd, but I was far from safe.
The instant I leapt, our horses parted and I clung to the side of the chariot with all my strength. I had less than half the length of the circus to get inside this chariot, because I'd never survive the turn.
The reins that had been snapped free by my magic were waving wildly in the air. While keeping hold of the side of the chariot with one arm, I reached for the reins with the other. The end of the spine came closer.
As the team of horses started their turn, the reins fell in the wind, and I got hold of one, and then the other, then used them to brace my weight as I dragged myself into the chariot.