The Far Shore (57 page)

Again, he had to stop himself smiling. They weren’t aboard yet.

‘Come on.’

He set off at a brisk walk along the shore towards the harbour. As the others joined him, he heard a rustling from the undergrowth to their left. Indavara cut in front, Lentellus’s sword at the ready. Cassius spied a red tunic, then a big arm pushing a branch aside.

Eborius was grinning. So was Noster, who appeared from behind him as they stumbled their way through a particularly dense tangle of shrubbery. Eborius had his helmet in his hand and the right sleeve of his mail shirt had been sliced off, leaving a ragged edge over his shoulder. Noster was in a worse condition. He had a makeshift bandage around his knee and required considerable help from the centurion to reach the sand.

‘Thank the gods,’ said Cassius as he gripped forearms with his fellow officer.

Eborius was already looking past him at the
Fortuna
.
‘Don’t suppose there’s room for two more on that thing?’

‘Absolutely.’

Eborius shook forearms with Indavara too, and took a moment to greet Annia. Cassius clapped Noster on the shoulder and looked down at his knee. ‘You wounded?’

‘Sort of. Ran into a wall. My kneecap seems to be facing the wrong way.’

Eborius put his arm around Noster’s back and helped him as they set off along the shore. ‘Come on, old man.’

Indavara moved to the front of the group and kept his gaze to the left as they neared the harbour.

‘What happened to you?’ Cassius asked Eborius.

‘We got away from the first lot but then ran into more Maseene. Ended up spending most of the night hiding in a cistern, then crossed the road an hour or so ago. Knew you’d head this way if you’d made it through the night. What about you?’

By the time Cassius had finished replying, the
Fortuna
’s anchor was up and four sets of oars were in the water. Cassius reckoned the large figure close to the bow looked like Simo.

To the east of the harbour, the warehouses were near the shore, with only a narrow belt of sand between them and the water. Beyond the wide doorway of the first building lay a dark, cavernous interior. The rectangle of light at the other end looked a long way away. Cassius was still looking at it when he heard a voice from up ahead.

‘Mornin’ all.’

Carnifex stepped out from behind the corner of the warehouse. Still leading the way, Indavara stopped five yards in front of him.

The old centurion was still clad in full armour and helmet. He tapped the triangular tip of his sword against a heavy, circular shield emblazoned with a black phoenix. His face was a blotchy pink mess – the boiling water had stripped skin from his cheeks, nose and forehead.

Annia turned straight into Cassius’s arms. She would have run if he hadn’t held on to her.

‘Shame,’ said Indavara. ‘I was hoping the Maseene had finished you off.’

‘Take more than a bunch of barefoots to do for old Carn. Told you I’d get me some of your blood, didn’t I, boy?’

Indavara glanced back at Eborius. Carnifex watched for the younger man’s reaction and gave another of his lopsided grins when Eborius came forward and stood beside Indavara. The bodyguard kept his eyes on Carnifex while he spoke to Cassius.

‘Corbulo, get Annia to the ship.’

‘You too, Noster,’ added Eborius, pulling on his helmet.

‘Not likely, sir.’

‘That’s an order.’

For once in his life, Cassius actually wanted to stay and fight. Carnifex deserved death more than any man he’d ever encountered. But he was unarmed, and the truth of it was he’d cause more harm than good.

‘I’ll come back,’ he said, coaxing Annia away from the others.

‘I’ll be waiting, Streak,’ said Carnifex.

‘Come on,’ Cassius told Noster. He put his spare hand around the limping legionary’s shoulder and led him and Annia into the warehouse.

‘I been looking forward to this,’ said Carnifex as he flexed his shoulders. ‘Now who’s going to see the ferryman first?’

Indavara was to his right, Eborius to his left. After the briefest of nods they struck out, jabbing their swords straight at him. Carnifex held Eborius off with his shield and traded blows with Indavara, one blade thudding against hide-covered wood, the other clanging, iron against iron.

Given the old soldier’s condition, Indavara favoured trying to tire him, but Carnifex had other ideas. Forcing Eborius back with a drive of the shield, he lunged towards Indavara. Their blades screeched and sparked as Carnifex’s sword slid past Indavara’s handle, missing his thumb by an inch.

‘Slow, boy,’ gloated Carnifex as he retreated to set himself again. ‘Very slow.’

He turned to Eborius. ‘Can you do any better, Manius?’

After his failed attack at the pit, Indavara was sure Carnifex would underestimate him. So as the centurion pushed Eborius back once more, Indavara readied himself to spring left and attack his flank.

He saw Carnifex’s blade coming at him too late and instantly had to adjust, swerving back to the right. He didn’t see the shield coming at all.

The edge slammed into his chest and knocked him off his feet. His back hit the sand but his head hit something a lot harder and as the crack reverberated through his skull he felt the sword fly from his fingers.

When the shimmering light eventually cleared, he was looking up at the grey-blue sky. Hearing scrapes and grunts, he turned towards the sea. The two clashing figures were distant and hazy. He tried to push himself up but when he fell back he realised why his head hurt so much. His neck was against rock. Wet rock.

The battling pair seemed far, far away.
Who are they again?

Indavara turned on to his side. He could see the glinting metal of the sword but as he reached for it the image shifted and contorted until he had to look away.

Get up. Got to get up.

Sucking in lungfuls of air, he fumbled his way on to his knees. He shook his head to clear the fog but the pain struck him once more and he fell forward onto the sand. When he could see again, the first thing he noticed was the blood. The blood that had collected in a hollow atop the small rock in front of him.

I landed on it. Hit my head.

‘Come on, Manius!’

Manius. Manius Eborius.

Indavara got up on his knees again and reached for the back of his head. The hair was sticky, soaked. His fingers found the wound – a half-inch rent in the flesh. He cried out and let go.

You’ve had worse.
Get up.

He reached for the sword. It took a while to make his fingers work but he held it and pressed the tip into the sand to help him stand. Up on one knee, then on both feet. The sky swirled around him. The pain swirled around his head. He staggered but stayed upright.

He looked along the beach. They were coming back towards him, a thrashing tangle of red and bronze, arms and blades. He tried to move towards them but almost fell again.

Stop. Breathe. Long, deep breaths
.

‘Come on, man! You can do better!’

Carnifex. His name’s Carnifex.

Somehow, Indavara found himself on his knees again, though he had kept hold of the sword. The fingers of his left hand were in a pool of icy water. He bent over, cupped his hand and flicked the water on to his face. His vision began to clear again, though he could have sworn someone was still hammering the back of his head with that rock. He looked up.

Eborius was forcing Carnifex – who had somehow lost his shield – back along the shore. The younger centurion launched a prodigious swing over his head. The older man blocked the blow but the impact sent him back several feet.

‘That’s the way!’ roared Carnifex. ‘Come on!’

Indavara gripped the sword handle tight. At last his body seemed to be doing what he told it to. Resting his other hand on the rounded pommel, he put the blade in the sand again to help him up. Eyes closed, he waited until he was steady on his feet. Then he opened them. Eborius and Carnifex were even closer.

With his height and a reach perhaps even longer than his foe’s, Eborius now seemed to have the advantage. Mouth set in a snarl, both hands on his sword, he swung again. This time Carnifex didn’t block, but stepped neatly to his left and watched the tip of the blade fly past his chest. With Eborius momentarily unbalanced, Carnifex plucked his dagger from his belt and jammed it deep into Eborius’s right arm where the armour had been cut away.

Carnifex left the knife there and retreated.

Indavara felt thick, warm blood oozing down the back of his neck.

It seemed to take Eborius a moment to realise what had happened. As he stared dumbly at the dagger handle, Carnifex heaved his sword at his head. The helmet absorbed most of the blow but Eborius was reeling.

Indavara started towards them but in the next instant he was down again.

Eborius’s sword fell from his hand; the arm was useless now. Carnifex knew he had him and he wasted no time. Three swift hacks made a mess of the mail shirt, and as Eborius tottered backwards, hundreds of the little metal rings rained down on to his boots. He was still looking at them when Carnifex reversed his sword and jabbed the solid bronze handle between his eyes.

Stunned, the big officer fell to his knees.

Carnifex lowered his blade and reached under the younger man’s chin to undo the strap. He then wrenched off the helmet and threw it away. Eborius’ eyelids were flickering, his head lolling to one side. Carnifex ran a hand though his curly black hair, then gripped it and tilted his head up.

‘I killed you, Eborius.’

‘I fought you, Carnifex,’ Eborius gurgled through the blood running down over his teeth.

Indavara tried to blink away the double vision.

Get up. Move.

A casual swing of Carnifex’s blade took two inches out of Eborius’s neck. The lifeless frame crashed forward onto the sand.

‘That you did, lad,’ Carnifex said as he turned. ‘That you did.’

Indavara was back on one knee.

Get up or he’ll kill you. Get up!

Carnifex wiped his mouth, boots squelching in the sand as he walked towards him. ‘Your turn again, One Ear.’

The broken, crumbling concrete was agony for Annia and Noster. Cassius had to try to help them both and progress was maddeningly slow. He wanted to stop and look back but he forced himself not to turn round.

They were still fifty feet from the end of the breakwater when Asdribar brought the
Fortuna
alongside
.
Korinth and Desenna made daring leaps up on to the concrete and held the ship in position with two lines. Simo made his way on to the side-rail and clambered up between them. Cassius heard Asdribar shouting at Clara, telling her to stay onboard. Squint was the only other sailor on deck; the others were manning the oars.

‘Get them aboard!’ Cassius told Simo.

‘Lad, take this!’ yelled Squint, flinging a short sword up on to the breakwater. Cassius let it land, then picked it up and ran back towards the shore.

Carnifex was five yards away when Indavara got to his feet. He retreated towards the warehouse, mainly to give his head more time to clear.

The sweat running down Carnifex’s face was loosening more of the burnt skin. He touched his brow and a strip of it peeled off in his hand. Indavara ran his eyes over the old centurion for signs that Eborius had caught him but there was little damage to his armour and no marks anywhere else. Only that slight limp and the gnarled left knee.

Grinning, Carnifex forced Indavara back with a few half-hearted but well-aimed thrusts. Indavara found he could barely get his weapon in the way, let alone think about mounting an attack. The throbbing at the back of his head seemed to be seeping forward again.

‘Even slower now, boy,’ said Carnifex before launching a scything blow that knocked Indavara’s blade high and away from him. He followed up with an arrow-straight kick that landed in Indavara’s midriff.

The blow sent him flying backwards. His left foot gave way and he fell sideways into the timbers of the warehouse wall. As he slumped to the ground, splintering bolts of pain shot across his left shoulder; he knew instantly he had dislocated his arm.