‘Give me sword!’ Viridovix shouted. ‘We kill them together!’
‘Jupiter’s balls!’ Lucius cursed. ‘Here Viridovix, slay these dogs!’
He tossed the longsword to Viridovix, who caught it in deft hands and swung it with savage ferocity at the soldier closest to him. The long blade clanged against the soldier’s as the man blocked the strike and attempted a quick parry, but Viridovix dodged the counterattack with dexterous agility and brought the blade down in a whistling arc, severing his opponent’s hand. He followed this up with a slash to the man’s throat, and as his adversary fell back in a spray of blood, Viridovix whooped out a hoarse cry of victory and turned to attack the next assailant.
Lucius, meanwhile, had drawn his gladius and was engaged in a furious duel, fending off two of the attackers with desperate swiftness as they launched simultaneous attacks on him. Viridovix hacked through two more attackers with vengeful fury, leaving their bleeding corpses jerking in the dirt as he waded into the thick of the fray, whirling the singing blade wildly about his head and roaring the guttural war cries of his tribe.
Lucius had dispatched the two soldiers with whom he had been duelling, and he was now busy with the final man, although it was now obvious that he was losing; he was fatigued and outmatched by the skill of this one, who seemed to be their leader. Lucius was being beaten further back with every attack, and finally he tripped and stumbled backwards over a large stone in the road, falling heavily onto his back. The impact of the fall sent his sword flying into the bushes and drove the air out of his lungs. He lay gasping like a fish drowning in air, and the man sprang on top of him and raised his sword to strike the killing blow.
‘Send the Huntsmen’s greetings to the rest of your cursed animal comrades in Hades, wolf,’ the soldier snarled.
However, before the man could slam his sword into Lucius’s throat, Viridovix’s blade tore through the air. With a stroke of terrifying power, it severed the soldier’s sword arm at his shoulder, sending both the arm and the gladius it gripped flying away in a spurt of blood. Without hesitation, Viridovix turned the blade on the upswing, and with a vicious horizontal slash he separated the man’s head from his shoulders. The now headless and armless corpse flopped forward, landing on Lucius and drenching him in a gush of hot blood.
‘Gods, get this thing off me!’ Lucius bellowed, struggling beneath the weight of the blood-spurting cadaver.
Viridovix, still in shackles, dragged the corpse off of Lucius, but then he pressed the sharp point of his blade into his master’s throat.
‘I can kill you,’ he snarled. ‘Kill you, take you gold, be free man.’
‘Now listen, listen my friend,’ Lucius spluttered, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘Let’s talk before you do something foolish.’
‘Talk, little man,’ the Gaul growled. ‘You words be you life now.’
‘If you kill me, you’ll become a wanted fugitive,’ Lucius said, doing his best to keep his cool. ‘Do you know what they do to escaped slaves?! Especially those who kill their masters! You’ll beg for death for days before the torturers allow you that mercy. You don’t want to die like that, trust me. Now just, r-, remove the sword from my throat and help me up, and I’ll free you, officially. I’ll sign the p-, papers right now. I’ll give you all the gold in my purse as well!’
‘How I know you do this?’
‘You have my word, which is my honour as a Roman,’ Lucius said, his countenance suddenly grave and solemn. ‘I swear on all of the gods, if you take that sword off of my throat, I’ll make you a free man.’
‘Swear it! On all you gods!’
‘I swear on the souls of my ancestors, and the gods they have worshipped since time began, that if you spare my life I’ll free you. My word is my bond.’
‘Good,’ Viridovix muttered, and he removed the point of the blade from Lucius’s throat and helped him to his feet.
‘Thank you Viridovix, thank you,’ Lucius said with a sigh of relief and a warm smile, and he gripped Viridovix’s arm appreciatively. ‘However, there is one thing I wish to point out.’
‘What?’
Lucius jerked Viridovix’s forearm forward in a sudden and unexpected burst of speed and strength, in the same motion he crashed his pointy elbow into the Gaul’s bearded jaw with brutal precision.
‘My word as a Roman only counts when I say it to a fellow free citizen,’ he muttered sardonically as Viridovix crumpled to the ground in a daze from the knockout blow. ‘You’re nothing but a slave, barbarian. Never forget that. And never trust a wolf either.’
These words were the last thing that Viridovix heard before his mind drifted off into a sea of dully roaring darkness.
14
LUCIUS
July, 78BC. A country road outside Capua
A wolf, a great grey wolf.
Howling, tearing at the hanged yellow moon with curved fangs.
A slash of the jaw; a sickle-rip of blood-streaked saliva a macabre decoration across the navy skyline, paralysed in time.
Trees … trees everywhere, living pillars radiating in all directions outward from this point: the centre of the world and all existence.
Freedom.
Fire-aching legs running, sprinting, pushing, struggling through glutinous mud – mud gushing and flowing now, an avalanche cascading down from the Alps.
A grey wolf in pursuit, gaining ground, coming closer.
Fly! Flee!
No. A coward flies.
Turn and fight.
But … fear.
No mere wolf. It is a monster, and with each step that it surges forward it grows, grows … grows.
Now the size of a bear.
Now the size of an elephant.
Now the size of a dragon.
Voracious, gaping jaws, the red maw of hell itself opening to swallow—
Viridovix awoke with a start, his heart hammering madly in his chest. The metallic aftertaste of blood soured his mouth, while a dull ache
