A moment later, one of the scouts he’d sent to watch their northern flank skidded to a halt, his horse lathered. Sliding onto the ground, someone took the horse to be stripped down and cared for quickly.
Lucius answered the scout’s hastily given salute. “Report, Mylitos.”
“There’s another column coming from north, along the eastern shore of the lake.”
“Shit.” He shook his head in frustration, the earlier confidence at the lead they’d amassed dissolving. “How far away?”
Mylitos pulled his helmet off and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Maybe half a day, maybe less. They’re riding hard.”
“How many do you make?” Lucius tried to relax his jaw from the clench it wanted to be in.
“Five hundred, all mounted with spares.”
Lucius nodded curtly. “Get some water and some food. Then when you’ve caught your breath, I want you to grab a few men and keep an eye on our new friends. Don’t do anything risky. Stay hidden and communicate often.”
Mylitos saluted and disappeared to carry out his orders.
“Well that’s going to make things interesting,” Venextos said, breaking into Lucius’s brooding.
“We don’t have the numbers to put up any kind of fight and that would just give time for the other column to join their friends. Gods above and below, Venextos, nothing about this mission has gone right.” He shook his head, catching Venextos’s gaze. “Never get mixed up in the business of gods and priests.”
“I just take the orders and pass them on, Centurio.” The Gaul seemed unsure of how to respond to his countryman and commanding officer.
“So did I, Venextos, so did I.” He spat onto the ground. “It’s going to be a race, and there’s no prize for second place.”
“No, sir. To the race.” Venextos jumped into the saddle and barked orders, getting their people up from the rest Lucius had called.
His men were highly trained and decently rested, all things considered. He’d have to rely on their professionalism to ensure they made it to their destination, though he had no idea what he’d do if they made it that far.
They maintained their lead over both columns by the time they had to halt for the night. With a short night, they were up and marching as soon as the light permitted, but by the time midday rolled around, the scouts had reported the northern column had made up ground, either pulling a dangerous night march or finding a path that cut the terrain.
“At the rate they’re gaining, they’ll be on us by tomorrow,” Venextos said, eyeing the men around him.
Lucius pursed his lips. “I know. We’re going to have to push, switch mounts regularly and keep moving fast. Eat in the saddle.”
“I’ll get the mounts changed, and we’ll see if we can get a little of that distance back.”
“Are we going to make it?” Ariazate asked. She cast a look toward her brother, who was currently getting some sword lessons from one of the legionnaires who’d adopted the boy as a bit of a mascot.
“We’re running out of lead, and we don’t have any allies. Things aren’t looking great, but we’ll do the best we can to get out of this alive somehow.” He wasn’t ready to give up yet; he wasn’t ready to give up on his promise to Ariazate and Tigran.
By the time they halted for the day, horses and riders were exhausted. They did what they could to erect a rudimentary defense and set guards. After shoving some food down his mouth, Lucius fell into his bed and passed out.
Screams, both human and unnatural, rent Lucius from his sleep. Bolting upright, he grabbed his sword and looked around. He thought he saw shadows running outside his tent.
“What is it, Roman?” Ariazate asked, clutching her blankets to her chest with one arm while the other was wrapped around her frightened brother.
“I don’t know.” He slid out of bed and started putting his armor on. “I want you to get dressed and packed. Grab the gold out of my baggage. All of it. No matter what happens, you’ll need it. I want you to ready a few horses in case you need to get out of here fast. Your manumission papers are also in my baggage, not that they’ll be needed up here…”
By the time he’d dressed in his warm woolens and pulled on his armor, he’d run through his directions for his young friends. Stopping in front of them, he tousled Tigran’s hair, then leaned down and briefly kissed Ariazate’s forehead.
“If I don’t see you again, it was a pleasure knowing you both. May the gods’ blessings be upon you.” He didn’t give them time to say anything or argue.
The words had to be said. If it was either of the columns pulling a forced march, they were likely about to die or be captured and sold into slavery. If it was the creatures come back to feast on them, they’d end up as monster shit on the side of the mountain. He didn’t want Ariazate and Tigran to end their young lives here when they were so close to freedom and their home.
He’d blocked out the sounds around him while he armed himself and carried out his duty to his friends, but now that he’d stepped out and it was time to engage, the sounds flared in intensity. Men formed lines behind their pickets and stakes. He yanked his gladius free and ran toward the action.
“Venextos,” he shouted. “What’s going on?”
“Those creatures… They’re back. Shit!”
One monster broke through the line, aiming for them. Lucius went high and Venextos went low. Together, they took the creature’s head and spilled its guts.
“How many?” Lucius asked.
“Too many. There’s no way we’re getting out of this…”
“Fuck!” Lucius knocked one of the creatures aside with his shield, following with a stab to the chest.
Venextos sliced its head off. “Take the head. It’s the only way to keep them down.”
Lucius took a second to inspect the body and head. They looked enough like men, except for the sharp claws at the end of their fingers and the needle-like fangs growing from the top and bottom of their jaws.
“What kind of monster is this?” Lucius had trouble pulling his gaze away.
Venextos dragged him away from the creatures. “Centurio. Lucius, you need to flee. Take the children and complete the mission.”
