‘Damn it!’ Cassius guided the horse around the boy and was about to straighten up again when something thudded into the animal’s neck. The mare shrieked and staggered, then toppled to the left. Fearing it would land on top of him, Cassius threw himself to the right. He came down awkwardly, almost horizontal.
His right foot hit first and twisted under him. His cry was cut short as his face smashed into the stone.
He lay still, listening to the desperate whinnies of the horse, the shouts of people nearby. Shards of pain shot up his leg. Blood welled in his mouth and ran between his teeth. He looked up and saw the long spear still stuck in the horse’s neck, swaying back and forth.
Two big hands grabbed him under the arms and lifted him. Cassius cried out again as his weight came down on the ankle. He thought he was about to faint but Simo took hold of his belt to keep him up.
‘Left hand over my shoulder,’ instructed the Gaul.
Cassius did so and, with Simo’s help, hobbled to the side of the street. He spat out a mouthful of blood and turned. Oblachus was knocking people aside with his stick as he pursued them.
Cassius nodded at a nearby alley. ‘There, Simo.’
After a few steps, he discovered that he could actually put a little weight on the foot and he hopped and stumbled along as best he could. There wasn’t much light in the alley and the darkness suddenly became their ally.
‘You!’ came the enraged shout from behind them. ‘I’m coming for you!’
They reached the next street and turned right. A woman ran past, holding up her robes. Cassius’s injured leg caught something on the ground. He barely stifled the cry.
‘Blood of the gods.’
‘Sir, we won’t get far. We must hide somewhere.’
They struggled on, looking for shelter, not daring to open a door or enter a courtyard. They heard Oblachus shout again then turned right down another side street.
‘There,’ said Cassius.
Between two dwellings was a small outhouse. Simo found the bolt and opened the low door. Tied up inside was a calf which let out a moan but seemed otherwise unconcerned. Once in, they moved along to an empty second stall hidden from the street by a wooden divide. At the far end was a big pile of straw. Cassius spat out more blood as Simo took his pack off then laid him down. The attendant sat against the timber wall and took several deep breaths before speaking.
‘Sir, your leg?’
‘I can just about move my foot.’
‘Can you feel your toes?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then it may not be broken.’
‘Doesn’t matter. The others are gone.’ Cassius slumped back into the straw. ‘We’ll never get out of here on our own. We’re as good as dead.’
‘Where are they?’
Indavara was facing backwards, holding on tight as the cart sped across the causeway and up the slope. He could see more lights at the gate now but no sign of any riders.
‘Stop. We have to go back.’
‘Are you insane?’ said Ulixes.
‘They should be out by now. Where are they?’
Ulixes was more interested in Mercator and the other riders ahead. ‘This cart isn’t that bloody slow! Ride on!’
Mercator — who seemed to have recovered — dropped back so that he was trotting alongside. ‘No sign of Corbulo?’
‘I’m going back for them,’ said Indavara.
‘Talk some sense into him,’ yelled Ulixes.
‘He’s right, Indavara,’ said Mercator. ‘Look at the lights. You’d never even get back through the gate.’
Ulixes weighed in again. ‘There’s maybe one chance in ten we’ll make it out of these mountains alive. You go back, you’ve no chance at all. That master of yours is no fool. If he does find a way out of that accursed place it won’t be by fighting. You can’t do anything more for them now except pray.’
‘Corbulo told us to get the stone out,’ added Mercator. ‘We need you here.’
Indavara let go of the side of the cart. Even before the others had spoken he’d known there was no sense in it.
As Mercator rode on ahead, he closed his eyes and followed Ulixes’s advice.
Dear Fortuna, goddess most high. Please watch over them. Please keep them alive.
XXXII
Gutha was sure he’d spotted Oblachus but the commander had disappeared by the time he reached the outer wall. A handful of guards were standing at the gate, staring uselessly towards the road. Others were checking the numerous bodies strewn across the ground.
He slowed to a walk, axe still in his hand. He had run all the way from the inner wall and somehow lost Reyazz. One of the guards turned towards him, his expression a blend of confusion and fear. Gutha recognised him but couldn’t recall his name; a hulking thug who could just about follow orders.
‘Sir.’
‘Were you here?’
‘No, sir. Just arrived.’ The guard pointed at the tower. ‘There are more dead there. Some of them are wearing our tunics but they’re not ours. A cart was seen leaving, men on horseback too.’
‘Who saw them?’
The guard shrugged.
‘What was in the cart?’
The guard shrugged again.
Gutha felt like chopping him in half but instead he strode past the others and beyond the gate. There were no lights on the road but just about enough moonlight to ride by. He couldn’t be sure because of the noise from the town but was that the distant rumble of hooves?
Gutha gazed despairingly at the sky and unleashed a stream of bitter curses in his own language. It seemed almost beyond belief that these people had been able to steal the stone just weeks after he had brought it to Galanaq.
As he stalked back inside, a trio of tribesmen rode up, each towing a number of horses. Two guards blocked their path.
‘Let us through,’ demanded one of the men. ‘We need to move the horses out where there’s space.’
‘No one is leaving,’ Gutha told him.
‘But the fire, we need to-’
Gutha reached up, gripped his belt and yanked him off his horse.
The tribesman landed heavily on his side, then rolled onto his back. ‘Aaaagh! What in the name of the gods?’
Gutha turned to the big guard. ‘Man the gate. Anyone else gets out of Galanaq without my say-so and I’ll cut your ears off for failing to listen to orders.’
‘Yes, Commander.’
Gutha used his axe to slice through the rope leading from the tribesman’s saddle, then mounted his horse. He aimed the weapon at another guard. ‘You there. Find Oblachus and Theomestor. Tell them to meet me here.’
‘Sir, I’m … I’m afraid Commander Theomestor is dead.’
‘Dead?’
‘He’s lying just over there, sir.’
Gutha cursed once more. Clearly these people were not to be underestimated.
‘Oblachus, then.’
Reyazz arrived, coughing and holding his chest.
‘Round up as many men as you can,’ Gutha told him. ‘They’ll need weapons and mounts. We’ll leave as soon as I return.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You have failed Lord Ilaha once this night. Do so again and you’ll not see the dawn.’
Gutha kicked down hard and galloped away along the road. He made no attempt to avoid anyone on foot or on horseback and roared at anything that got in his way. The compound fire at least seemed to be under control. The flames hadn’t spread and the two buildings still alight were in any case past saving. He looked for any further sign of the enemy but saw only groups of confused guards and tribesmen.
The men he had left to fight had stationed themselves at the inner gate. As they parted to let him through, Kalderon came running up with his bodyguard and a few warriors.
‘Where is Lord Ilaha?’ asked the ethnarch.
‘He’s safe.’
‘No. He left the caverns. What about the fire?’
‘The worst has passed. Please gather the loyal ethnarchs and your men. If the tribes of the traitors hear what happened to their chiefs there may be trouble.’