‘Fool,’ Baptista spat.
‘Forget him; look, we’re not done yet,’ Pavo jabbed a finger out to the cluster of legionaries under the XI Claudia banner, a short distance away. Gallus was there, as were Zosimus, Felix, Quadratus and Carbo plus some fifty others. They hacked and parried furiously, coated in blood. ‘If we can get to them . . . ’
The keening of a Persian war horn drowned out his words. At once, the clibanarii withdrew from the fray, leaving just these islands of hardy legionaries in a sea of bloody sand and corpses. The battle din quelled.
Pavo panted, watching as the iron riders returned to their position in Persian centre. The cataphractii and archer cavalry had spilled round the flanks and now stood poised like pincers. Bows nocked, lances levelled. Watching, waiting. The rumbling war drums fell silent and every legionary’s breath seemed to still with them. An eerie calm settled over the gory scene.
‘What are they waiting for?’ Sura panted, running his gaze over the Savaran noose.
Beside them, Baptista growled, clutching his Chi-Rho; ‘You will soon see. I pray to God that it will be over swiftly.’ He met the eyes of both Pavo and Sura. ‘Know this: we could never be friends, but you make fine comrades on the battlefield.’
‘Aye,’ Pavo replied, ‘at the last, I am glad of you by my side.’
Baptista nodded briskly, then closed his eyes and muttered in prayer.
Pavo and Sura peered ahead, over the line of clibanarii. There seemed to be some activity there, shrouded behind the wall of dust. Suddenly, the calm was shattered as the earth rumbled under them once more. This time it was ferocious, as if titans were now running towards them. The clibanarii parted, and the dust behind them swirled and swished rapidly, a shaft of midday sunlight piercing it and silhouetting a dozen hulking shapes. Then a dozen nightmarish, trumpeting roars rang out, shaking Pavo to his bones.
‘God of the Light, no!’ he gasped as the war elephants thundered into view. Their trunks swiped in fury. Their tusks were coated in bronze, the tips sharpened and serrated. Their colossal limbs crashed on the dust underfoot like falling rocks, and they came at a great pace that belied their size. The archers packed into the howdah cabins strapped to their backs grinned zealously as they leant out to take aim with their nocked bows. The wild-eyed, eager mahout seated on the lead beast’s neck yelled some jagged command, driving the creature onwards.
Pavo glanced across to Gallus and the cluster of men around the XI Claudia banner. The iron tribunus had nothing, and could only gawp at these giant creatures.
‘We’re dead,’ Sura whispered, as if stealing Pavo’s thoughts.
Instinctively, a few legionaries nearby broke away, scrambling back. Pavo stared up at the nearest creature, its enraged features encircled by a halo of sunlight. A pair of arrows thudded down into the dust before him and then the beast lifted its huge foot. The shadow of the beast fell over him and finally his resolve cracked. He, Sura and the rest of his cluster scrambled back too.
‘Sir!’ Sextus yelped behind him, one hand outstretched having stumbled to his knees.
Pavo reached out to Sextus, when an elephant foot came crashing down upon the young legionary, crushing him like bracken. Then the swinging trunk bashed into Pavo’s breast, knocking the breath from him, cracking a rib and hurling him over the heads of the rest of his men. He landed on his back and rolled through the dust. Winded, he retched and spat, then scrambled up to see the mahout smash his iron-tipped cane on the beast’s head. This maddened the creature, provoking it into swishing its head, bringing one bronze-coated tusk up and through Baptista’s flank, ripping the side of his torso away. The blood of the mutilated Flavia Firma optio showered those who fled and his lifeless corpse toppled to the dust. Sura cried out as an arrow hissed down, slashing past the side of his face with a spray of blood, then another punched into his calf, knocking him to the ground beside Pavo. Nearby he saw Gallus, Carbo and the others scrambling back likewise until they were together in a panting, panicked cluster. The war elephants rounded on them as if herding cattle, then slowed, obeying the barking commands and thrashing canes of the mahouts. The circle of great beasts glowered down upon the surviving legionaries – less than thirty all told. Pavo squinted up as the howdah archers stretched their bows once more, each taking aim for a volley that would finish them all and end the quest for the scroll.
Pavo grappled his phalera medallion and thought of Father.
But the onslaught ceased with a single strike on the war drum. The archers’ arms slackened and their gleeful grins grew sour. Silence fell over the plain bar a few snorts, whinnies and shuffles of the Persian mounts. The dust settled and the baking heat of early afternoon seared their skins.