The boy nodded nervously.
“Stay close, Mylitos. We don’t want to get lost.”
They swept out into the dark, intermittent flurries of snow dancing across the mountainside and reducing their vision. Ensuring they kept within sight of either other’s torchlight or the light from their campfire, they searched. Lucius was about to give up when he stumbled on his mare milling about. A few minutes later, Mylitos snagged one of the pack horses. With the wind picking up, and the snow coming down in a thick blanket, Lucius called it quits before it became a white out. With the horses secured, they moved Josephus’s body out of sight of the camp after Lucius pulled Josephus’s signaculum and added it to the bag with the rest. One more man dead, one more piece of lead to turn in, one more name to strike from the records. Lucius sent Mylitos to bed and took the long watch before the sun came up.
Despite the short night’s sleep, the cold kept him awake, and his fury at being betrayed kept him warm, that and piling plenty of wood onto their fire. When the sun first peeked over the horizon, adding a dim glow to the steady snowfall, he decided to let the others sleep. With the snow coming down this hard, it would be foolish to attempt the ascent up the windy path that lay ahead.
When Mylitos woke, he relieved Lucius, who retired to his bed to get a few hours of sleep. The Parthians wouldn’t risk this weather any more than he would. The few hours of sleep did him good. Once he woke, he and Mylitos cut more wood and began sorting through their supplies, figuring out what they could carry with them without the extra horses. With fire and food sorted, they hunkered down for a quiet afternoon and an early night. As the sun faded, the snow faded with it, revealing patches of starry sky. The snow created a gentle glow reflecting the moonlight that comforted him as they sat quietly, listening to Tigran play.
Once the moon appeared through a patch, Lucius closed his eyes and tipped his face toward Selene’s moon chariot. “My Mistress, are we safe for the evening? From the Parthians and the creatures who hunt us at night?”
He couldn’t imagine them being out in this kind of weather, but then again, a couple weeks ago, he couldn’t have imagined that they even existed in the first place. The relative calm had finally returned them to his thoughts as they hid from the Parthians and the weather.
“Neither of your pursuers have any desire to be out in this weather. You are safe for the evening.”
“My Mistress…” He hated to question the goddess, but the betrayal of the pater burned hot and raw still.
“What troubles you?” she asked.
“Why did the pater betray us? You…” He cut himself off before he could accuse the goddess.
“I am sorry, Lucius, but not all men’s hearts are as constant as yours.”
He didn’t know how to respond. The mission given to pater had been too much from him, and he broke. It didn’t bring much in the way of sympathy for the man, but it provided some clarity. “Thank you.”
“You are close to your destination, my brave soldier. Follow your heart and we shall meet anon.” Selene’s presence lingered for a few moments, warming the depths of his soul.
When she left, he didn’t feel empty without her presence. Something of her lingered and sustained him. “Mylitos, we won’t set a watch tonight. We all need a full night’s sleep. I have a feeling the next few days are going to be intense.”
Mylitos snorted. “As if they haven’t been already.” He stood up. “I guess I’d better turn in and sleep while I can.”
“Are we going to make it?” Tigran asked quietly.
“We will. We’re almost to our destination.”
“But what about after?” The boy’s voice sounded small as he stared into the fire.
“We’ll just have to see. I don’t know what’s going to happen on that mountaintop. If we make it to the after, we’ll think of a plan then.” Lucius smiled kindly at the boy. “You should get to bed.”
Tigran nodded and joined Mylitos in the tent. Lucius wasn’t quite ready to retire, needing to center himself before tomorrow’s trial. If they got up the mountain, he’d worry about the temple then. As he calmed his breathing and let his eyes drift shut, he felt a soft pull toward the east, toward their destination. He was being called.
FIFTEEN
“Go!” Lucius yelled, as he held up his scutum.
The wood of the shield felt entirely too thin to stop the profusion of arrows flying toward them. He was lucky even to have it after they’d lost most of their supplies when the Parthians had caught up to them, bringing down one horse and sending the other fleeing. Focusing on getting the injured Mylitos off the ground and away, he sacrificed the horses for his comrade. They wouldn’t have been able to use the horses much longer anyway as the trail narrowed and veered off into a thin, winding track up the side of the mountain.
The only thing that had saved them from further injury thus far was a hearty dose of mountain wind that sapped the arrows’ power and pushed them off target. The best archers would’ve been able to compensate, but the wind whipped around first from one direction, then the next with a violent randomness that seemed almost intentional.
A couple of the Parthian archers, better or luckier than the rest, peppered the shield, a few arrows retaining enough power to penetrate. Lucius screamed as an arrow found flesh, plunging into the meat of his thigh. Standing there acting like a target wasn’t working, so he hugged the rock face and backed along the narrow path until he rounded a sharp turn and could no longer see the Parthians.
He set the shield aside and grabbed the arrow, letting out another scream as it wiggled in his flesh. Securing its base where it met his skin, he clenched his teeth and snapped the shaft off, nearly blacking out for a second. Only the strain in his jaw and teeth pulled him back from the edge. Shouts in Parthian drifted to him on the wind.
“Lucius? Where…” Tigran stopped when he saw Lucius hunched against the rock face. “We have to go. Hurry.”
Nodding, Lucius forced himself up onto his good leg and took a tentative step on the wounded leg. It screamed but would bear weight if he didn’t push too hard. Though he didn’t really have much of an option on a steep mountain trail with a horde of Parthians looking for his Roman blood. He cast a quick prayer to whatever gods might be watching, hoping one of them might be on their side and take pity on him. He wasn’t sure, but maybe the leg hurt less. Or maybe it was just growing numb.
“Are you hurt, Tigi?” Lucius asked the boy, panting with exertion.
“These Parthian archers…” He looked disgusted and spat, but a gust of wind caught it and threw it back into his face. He didn’t finish whatever judgment he’d planned to render against the Parthian archers.
Wiping his face, Tigi turned and jogged back up the path; Lucius grabbed his shield and followed. When they rounded another jagged corner, they found Mylitos hunched over, sitting against the rock face.
“Shit, Mylitos,” Lucius said.
Mylitos lifted his head, his normally tanned olive Illyrian face pale from blood loss. “Leave, Centurio. I’ll hold them off…”
“You’re barely holding off death, Mylitos.” Lucius looked back the way they’d just come. “Tigran, go see how far back they are.”
The boy nodded and ran off, pulling a handful of arrows from the quiver at his hip. Lucius lowered himself as best as he could and hooked an arm and shoulder under Mylitos’s arm. Together, the two injured men got to standing, forging ahead on the steep path. A moment later, Tigran reappeared, firing off an arrow occasionally.
“They’re almost on us, but I sent a few tumbling.” The boy let off a laugh bordering between nervous and terrified.
Lucius redoubled his efforts, trying to fight the growing pain in his thigh, blood trickling over his knee and down his calf. Mylitos’s weight grew heavier as his strength flagged. The Illyrian could barely keep his head up. It lolled to the side, rolling until his chin rested on his chest.
“Lucius… Centurio, a cave…”
