The Black Stone (55 page)

Indavara tried to stand his ground but a sly flick caught his wrist. The mail held firm but it could easily have been his hand. He blocked another blow, evaded another flick and continued to back away.

They were well into the shadows now.

Cursing in Nabatean, Theomestor thrust at him two-handed. Indavara deflected the blow with the base of his blade, then chopped quickly at the Arabian’s face. To his amazement, the veteran made no attempt to avoid it.

The blade cut across his chin. Theomestor staggered backwards as blood seeped from the wound. He centred his sword and peered forward. Only then did Indavara realise. The dark was even worse for his old eyes. He couldn’t see.

Indavara just rushed him. Theomestor swung clumsily and far too early. Indavara had time to pick his strike – an arrow-straight thrust into his opponent’s throat.

The Arabian somehow held on to his sword as he stood there, impaled by the blade, trembling and gasping.

Indavara didn’t want him to suffer. He retracted the sword.

As the veteran’s limp form fell, he wished he hadn’t had to kill him.

Sorry, old boy. You had a good run.

Cassius was surprised to see the gate still shut. He stopped the horses and looked down at the chaotic scene.

Mercator was standing alone, staring at the ground. He was surrounded by fallen men, only a few of whom were still moving. It was hard to tell which were auxiliaries and which were guards. Yorvah was helping another soldier up while two more were attending to a man lying on his back.

Ulixes spoke before Cassius could summon any words. ‘Mercator, the doors.’

The optio didn’t respond.

Cassius threw the reins at Ulixes and climbed down. ‘Mercator!’

The optio managed to look at him but his eyes were glassy and wide.

Yorvah grabbed his arm and shook him. ‘Sir, Optio Mercator, sir!’

‘What? What is it?’ He looked at Cassius. ‘Corbulo.’

‘We have to go. Now. Where’s Indavara?’

‘Right here.’ He ran past them, sheathing his blade once more. ‘I’ll get the doors.’

Cassius spoke to Mercator and Yorvah. ‘Any injured that can move – get them in the cart.’

He looked back along the road. Andal and another man were arriving with their horses.

The three other auxiliaries were on foot. ‘Sir, we just couldn’t get through,’ said one. ‘We had to leave ours.’

‘Looks like we’re not going to need them all anyway,’ said Cassius. ‘Everyone mount up. Where’s Simo?’

‘Not sure, sir. We lost sight of him back there.’

‘Damn it.’

Cassius turned back towards the gate. Indavara seemed to be having trouble with the locking plank. Cassius dodged through the men and drew his sword. Using the pommel, he knocked the plank upwards. Indavara pulled it free and threw it aside. They each grabbed one of the doors and heaved them open.

Simo was stuck. In front of his horse was a hand cart stacked with barrels. The cart had lost a wheel and wouldn’t be moving any time soon. Next to it was a woman trying to round up a gaggle of crying children.

Simo heard an angry cry from behind him and spun around.

Oblachus. Not a name he was likely to ever forget. The commander was limping past the line of horses, stick in one hand, lantern in the other.

Simo had seen the other men abandon their charges and decided he didn’t have much choice. He dropped the reins and slid off the horse, stumbling on an unsteady flagstone. He looked back. Oblachus had collared a guard and was pointing at him.

Simo checked his pack was secure then ran.

‘What about Khalima?’ asked Indavara.

‘They got caught at the inner gate,’ said Cassius. ‘We can’t wait any longer.’

An injured man had been put in the cart. Mercator and the others were on their horses and ready to move.

‘What are we waiting for?’ yelled Ulixes.

Cassius slapped Indavara on the shoulder. ‘Go. Get moving.’

‘Where’s Simo?’

Cassius looked back along the road again. All of Andal’s group was there apart from the Gaul. ‘I’ll find him. Just get that bloody stone out of here.’

Indavara hesitated. ‘Corbulo—’

‘That’s an order. You’re an army man now, remember?’

Indavara climbed up beside Ulixes. As the ex-legionary got the cart under way, the others followed.

Andal was the last in line. He was holding Cassius’s grey mare by the reins. ‘Here, sir.’

Cassius took them and swung up into the saddle. ‘Go!’

As Andal set off through the gate, Cassius wheeled his mount around and trotted back into the town. Several of the unused horses were now free and running loose, adding to the confusion. He had just rounded one when he heard a familiar voice.

‘Sir! Sir, I’m here!’

Simo had just emerged from behind a pair of mules being towed across the road.

‘Here, Simo, jump up with me.’

A less composed animal might have protested at such an added weight but the mare remained still as the big attendant hauled himself up behind his master. Cassius was already turning when he heard another voice in Greek.

‘You!’

Oblachus was pointing at him. In his other hand was a long spear.

But of more immediate concern was the guard just feet away. Cassius kicked out with his right boot but delivered only a glancing blow to the shoulder. The guard tried to grab his leg but Cassius urged the horse back and freed himself. His second kick cracked the Arabian’s chin and sent him tottering away.

Wrenching the reins to his left, Cassius was about to charge for the gate when he spotted a boy of no more than five standing directly in front of him. The child was not crying or screaming, just staring up at the animal towering over him.

‘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.

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.