likely means there’ll be more coming behind them on the road. These are just outriders to hem us in.”
Salonius nodded.
“I know what they’re doing. They’ll try and outpace us in the next hour or two.”
He pointed to the river rushing and gurgling along to their right.
“That river crosses to the other side of the valley a few miles ahead in a little village. There’s a bridge in the square and that’s the only safe place to cross unless you ride up the slope. If they can get there ahead of us, they can stop us at the bridge. We won’t have time to turn back and get up the slope and that other bunch that you’re talking about will come up on us from behind. I thought we were staying way ahead of them, but they’re playing us into a trap.”
Petrus grumbled and snapped his head round to glance back once again.
“That could work both ways, though.”
“What do you mean?” Salonius frowned.
“If a dozen of them try to stop us at the bridge, they’d best be good. They may have us pinned down, but we’ll have them all in one place too.”
“Are you mad?” Salonius glared at him. “I’ve just got through telling you not to put people in danger!”
Petrus growled and fixed him once again with that unnerving cyclopean stare.
“They’re already in danger, boy, and you know that. But Varro and I are good at what we do, and I have a feeling that you are, too. And at a bridge they lose their advantage in numbers. I’m guessing they’ll not be able to get more than four on the bridge at a time. And if they’re just following orders, they’ve more to lose than us, so we gain the advantage, you see?”
Salonius glared at him for some time and finally, with a sigh, he nodded.
“You’re right, of course. Unless we swing out and go up the sides of the valley ourselves.”
Petrus shook his head.
“No point. We’d only stay a little ahead of them and they’d still be chasing us. We need to deal with this bunch before any more get here.”
He placed his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. Salonius stared at him.
“They’ll hear you!”
“No they won’t,” the scarred man replied, wiping his fingers on his tunic. “They’re riding horses a couple of miles away, and it wasn’t that loud.”
Across the valley, Varro and Catilina had turned their horses and were making for the road at the centre. With a nod to Salonius, Petrus did the same. The four riders converged a few hundred yards further on, just as the floor of the valley crested and took a sudden dip. Laid out before them perhaps five miles away was the village with the narrow stone bridge. An involuntary shudder went through Salonius as he remembered the events that took place there a few days ago.
“Pursuit?” Varro’s voice was flat; a statement, not a question. Petrus nodded.
“We reckon about a dozen for now. The lad thinks they’re going to cut us off at the village and that more will be coming down from behind.”
Salonius bridled at the slight condescension implied by the phrase ‘the lad’ but kept his tongue. This was not the time for argument.
Varro shaded his eyes and peered back up the valley.
“He’s right. There’s more than those dozen outriders. Half the damn cohort’s coming!”
They followed his pointed finger and squinted into the sun. The two small groups of riders were pushing their mounts hard and were close behind. Given the quality of their cavalry steeds against the four stolen horses, they would easily pass them over the next two miles. But the sight that chilled Salonius’ blood was the rising cloud of dust further up the valley; the sort of dust cloud that could only be kicked up by a sizeable cavalry unit travelling at speed.
Varro grunted.
“We’re going to have to deal with this lot at the bridge pretty quickly.”
Petrus glanced at Salonius and raised an eyebrow provocatively. The younger man ignored him and frowned.
“That cavalry won’t take long to catch us. If we survive that, we’re going to have to find a way to block the bridge and slow them down.”
“I’ll block it with bodies!” rumbled Petrus. Varro smiled.
“Salonius’ll figure it out. You just concentrate on the fight ahead.”
The four of them kicked their horses and raced off toward the village. As they travelled, throwing up clouds of dust, Varro and his companions kept an eye on their pursuers. The outriders, realising they’d been seen, had given up any hope of subterfuge and were racing along the sides of the valley. Quickly it became apparent that their horses were of far superior quality to the civilian steeds the four fugitives had taken from Saravis Fork. In little over a mile, the ambushers were already level with their prey. They would have ample time to position themselves at the bridge.
As they rode, Varro drew his heavy Imperial blade from the sheath by his saddle. A moment later Petrus and Salonius followed suit. As Catilina moved to draw a sword from her pack, however, Varro shook his head.
“Not you!”
Catilina, her hair streaming behind her dramatically, flashed an angry look at him and drew the sword defiantly.
“Your father will kill me anyway if I get you harmed. Put it away!”
“No!” She gritted her teeth. “I need to be able to defend myself anyway, you cretin!”
Varro blinked in surprise and then let out a short laugh.
“Then stay as out of the way as you can, my love!”
Salonius smiled to himself. It was the first time he’d heard Varro refer to the relationship that was clearly blossoming once more between them. He’d have to pray to the Gods that Scortius could find some sort of cure for this incurable poison.
Brandishing their swords, the four rode on, bearing down on the village.
“I’ll take the right side” shouted Petrus over the drumming of their hooves. “Peripheral vision problems!”
Varro nodded. “You take the left!” he shouted at Salonius, before turning to Catilina. “And you stay at the back and watch that lot behind us.”
Salonius frowned and allowed his horse, currently out front by a neck, to drop back a little until he rode alongside the defiant-looking lady with her blade held low.
“My lady?”
She turned to look at him and raised her eyebrows.
“How’s your aim?” he enquired.
The eyebrow dropped into a frown.
“Good. Why?”
Salonius grinned.
“Because I have a sling and a pouch of shot in my bag. For hunting coneys.”
She returned his smile.
“Never used a proper slingshot, but I’ve had plenty of practise with home-made slings and catapults.”
Clutching his reins with his sword hand and keeping his eyes on the road ahead, Salonius reached round into a saddle bag and rummaged among its contents. Concentrating, he dug deep through his travelling gear until he finally found what he was looking for and his fingers closed on a leather strap. Hauling it out, the heavy bag of shot came with it, tied to one loose end. Extending his arm, he proffered the weapon to Catilina, who gave it an appraising glance and then sheathed her sword before taking it.
“Heavy stones,” she said. “They’ll hurt.”
“They’re not stones,” Salonius replied. “That’s the proper lead shot that gets issued to all engineers. You can kill quite easily with a well placed blow. But be really careful with where you aim.”
“Oh I shall.” She replied with a smile, and began to untangle the strap from the fastening on the pouch as she rode. “Believe me, I shall.”
As they passed the first houses of the village, it was clear that the population had dispersed the moment
