be careful not to be observed. He took up the best hidden position where he could see the tied twine through a crack which would be wide enough to thrust his sword through. His heart racing, he sought another crack and, finding the best, quietly waited, watching the man at the window. Irritatingly, now he was somewhere he could hear, they’d stopped talking. With bated breath he waited.
His first sign that Varro had made a move startled him. There was an unpleasant ‘crunch’ and a faint squawk from the man at the window. Even as Salonius thrust his sword between the planks and severed the twine with ease, he watched with fascinated horror as the man at the window slumped slowly backwards and fell to the floor, a gaping hole where his eyes had been and a multicoloured slick of unpleasantness pouring from the wound. He twitched for a moment, gurgling, as Salonius pulled the door open. Varro had appeared at the window now, a grim look of determination on his face and his sword running with the man’s blood.
The man lying wrapped in a blanket had grasped his sword and was coming to his feet quickly, his eyes flickering between the messy corpse on the floor and the vision of bloodlust at the window. So intent on Varro was he that he never noticed the door swing open behind him and never saw the stocky young soldier leap across behind him, his sword raised high.
With a grim smiled, Salonius brought down the bronze pommel of his sword hard on the very top of the man’s head, knocking him unconscious instantly. The man slumped to the floor.
Varro glared at him.
“You think we’ve time to take prisoners?”
Salonius shrugged defensively.
“I’d rather know who they are before I kill them, sir.”
Growling, Varro rounded the wall of the shed and stormed in through the door. As he leaned down and wiped his sword on the dead man’s tunic, he glared up at his companion.
“You think they’re innocent men?” he barked. “They’re in civilian clothes with no insignia or sign of rank. Yet they’re armed like soldiers and following us. You want more?”
Salonius stood silently.
Varro kicked the fallen body.
“This one I don’t know but I think he might have been one of the provosts from Crow Hill.”
He pointed at the unconscious man.
“That bastard, on the other hand, I know. I know the face. He’s one of the prefect’s guard.”
Salonius shrank back from the force of the captain’s anger. Varro walked over and pressed his finger into Salonius’ chest.
“You brained him; you carry him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sheathing his sword, the young man bent down and lifted the unconscious soldier easily, slinging him across his shoulder. As he settled his burden more comfortably, Varro collected the saddle bags from the pile in the room and shouldered them. With a single angry glance at Salonius, he strode purposefully out of the shed and toward the road that led to the bridge.
The young man hurried after him, giving a worried glance back at the interior.
“Sir?” he called as he jogged to catch up.
“What?” barked Varro furiously.
“What about the mess. Shouldn’t we hide the body? And find their horses, sir?”
Varro stopped dead and Salonius almost fell over him. He turned and pointed back at the barn.
“Firstly, if you’d been more aware of your surroundings and less worried about the ethical consequences of what you were doing, you’d have seen that the farmer was lying gutted in the back of the barn behind the cows. No one’s going to find that till tomorrow morning; afternoon probably. We’ll be long gone by then.”
He started to walk again, slowly, and Salonius strode alongside, a contrite expression clouding his features.
“Secondly: we don’t need their horses. We’ve got our own, and I’ve got their saddle bags. There’ll be nothing at the horses that we could use.”
He glanced sideways at the younger man.
“Thirdly, you have got to stop calling me sir!” He sighed.
Salonius smiled weakly.
“I’m sorry. It’s hard. Years as a soldier and these things become ingrained. You know that? I’m finding it hard to stop. Whether you’re with the second or on your own, you’re still a captain. You’re still my superior, and it’s wrong.”
Varro opened his mouth to speak, but Salonius plunged on.
“I know I’ve got to. I know we need to be as unobtrusive as possible at the moment and that ‘captain’ and ‘sir’ draw attention, and I am trying. Time will change things.”
“That’s part of the problem, Salonius,” Varro groused. “I’m running out of time. Every hour that passes for you brings you closer to promotion, or retirement. You might end up owning an inn like that.” He pointed across the bridge at their destination.
“That’s what I always planned. But every hour that brings you closer to your future brings me closer to a hole in the ground.”
He stormed along in silence, his head bowed as he crunched along the gravel leading up to the bridge. There was no need for subtlety now.
“I’m sorry.”
The captain turned to Salonius.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m dealing with this, but sometimes it feels hopeless.”
Salonius gave what he hoped was a supportive smiled.
“What you’re doing matters. What we’re doing matters. We’re fated for this. The Gods themselves set us on this path and who can argue with the Gods. And the future’s unknown to us, for all the Gods might read it. My sergeant says that Scortius is the best doctor in the whole army. If there’s a way to cure you, he’ll find it. But we’ve got to pursue this; get to Saravis Fork and find your cousin. If whatever this is is so important people will kill to stop it, then we need to find it.”
Varro looked down at his companion and finally his brow unfurrowed and a smile passed briefly across his face.
“You put a lot of faith in this Cernus, don’t you?”
“With respect,” the young man replied with a grin, “it’s because of the Stag Lord you found me. When you were wounded you wanted something to drink. On the way to the hospital tent you must had passed more than a hundred men; sergeants, engineers, archers, infantry and medics. How many of those men know Cernus?”
Varro blinked.
“Perhaps a handful,” continued Salonius. “And of that handful of men who’d heard of Cernus out of the hundreds around you, how many do you think had stood in his presence?”
“I never thought of that” replied the captain, blinking again in surprise.
“Fate. Gods. A path.” Salonius smiled. “Cernus blessed you because there is something you have to do. Something really important.” He grinned. “And because you couldn’t do it alone, Cernus blessed me and sent me to you. These events have been rolling forward since before I even joined the army.”
Their voices lowered a little as they entered the village square. The light still shone from the front door and window of the inn. It felt like midnight to the two men who hadn’t slept in two days, but in truth it was still only mid evening.
“I need a drink.” Varro grinned.
Salonius frowned at him.
“Not if you’re taking that strong medication though.”
“I’ll forego that and just take the normal medication and a little of the hard stuff from the shelf behind the bar.”
The two of them dipped into the alley beside the inn and Varro looked at Salonius and pointed to the body slumped over his shoulder.
“I’ll climb up to the roof and lift him from there.”
“Ok.” Salonius shifted the weight slightly and stood still, his legs slightly apart, braced ready. Varro grasped a
