‘Where are we going?’ Sura hissed.
‘I fear you would not follow me if I were to tell you,’ Falco replied.
Just then, angry tones echoed behind them, from within the ring of spikes, by the wheel. ‘Find them!’ Gorzam roared.
Falco and Arius upped the pace, leading their comrades, with Pavo and Sura bringing up the rear. They hurried on until the cave became a mere passageway. The salt crystals studding the walls afforded the faintest hint of light and helped steer them round the deadly salt pits on the floor of the narrowing passageway. And there was something else – pools of black, glistening liquid. Then Pavo saw something sparkling up ahead. A solid wall of salt crystal blocking the corridor. A dead end.
‘Father?’ he gasped. Behind them, the footsteps of Gorzam’s party echoed ever closer.
Falco seemingly ignored him and tapped forward with his cane until he reached the dead end. The other slaves went with him, reaching out to feel the salt face there. They came to one large crystal – about the size of a man – resting against the dead end and took to prodding and poking at it.
Sura gawped at this, then at Pavo, then back down the passageway to the jumble of dark shapes approaching. One to the rear carried a torch, and the light from it was blinding, illuminating the corridor in a heartbeat.
Gorzam led the charge, leaping over and weaving round the salt beds, his pitted features twisted in rage, his spear clasped as though he was trying to strangle it. Twelve guards came with him, each wearing the same look of blood lust. Running along with them like a dog was Bashu. The man was pointing, repeating over and over;
‘The Roman, I saw him come down here. I told you!’ he spat, his cold gaze fixed on Pavo. ‘Now give me my place in the first chamber!’
Gorzam slowed and the twelve guards fanned out across the corridor as they approached, forming a wall of spears. Pavo and Sura took a step back then halted, feeling the edge of a salt pit at their heels. Pavo pulled the sharpened rock from the waist of his loincloth, holding it up in defiance. Sura stooped to pick up a jagged boulder and hefted it, ready to throw.
Gorzam swiped an arm at the corridor-end. ‘Kill them. Kill them all!’
The twelve rushed forward. Sura and Pavo pushed up shoulder-to-shoulder. The spear tips rushed in towards them like the fangs of a predator. Two of the guards loosed their spears and the shafts whipped past Pavo and Sura, piercing the frail bodies of two of Falco’s comrades, spattering the dead end of the corridor in blood. The other guards raced for Pavo and Sura. Pavo and Sura let loose a roar that had graced many a battlefield. Then a punch of iron piercing flesh echoed through the passageway.
Pavo felt the hot blood spatter on his face. He blinked, glancing at Gorzam and the guards, halted only paces away. The two guards at either end swayed and crumpled to the ground, pickaxes embedded in their backs. The rest had stopped in confusion, glancing to Pavo and Sura, their stricken comrades and then over their shoulders.
‘That’s what happens when you take a legionary’s spatha away,’ a familiar voice cried.
Pavo squinted to see the shapes rushing for Gorzam’s rear. Felix, Zosimus, Quadratus, then Habitus, Rufus, Noster and two other slaves, all bearing pickaxes. Each man bore the wild glare of a wounded war hound.
‘At them!’ Felix cried, sweeping his hand forward as if commanding a cohort. They raised their pickaxes and rushed for the guard line.
Gorzam barked at his guards, nine of them turning to meet the oncoming charge. The two parties crashed together, pickaxes and fists swinging, spears jabbing and tearing, blood splattering across the corridor walls and polyglot cries filling the passageway.
Meanwhile, Gorzam and one other guard stalked forward to deal with Pavo and Sura, Bashu sticking close to them. Gorzam thundered forward to plunge his spear at Pavo’s midriff. Pavo jinked clear of the first jab, the blade only scoring the flesh on his abdomen.
‘Ah, this will take some skill,’ Gorzam rasped. ‘I only want to wound you, you see. I want you to suffer, Roman – as I promised you when I killed that dog, Khaled. I’ll strip every inch of your skin then bury you up to your neck in salt to cure the wounds. Then you will truly know the meaning of suffering.’
Pavo dipped his brow and fixed his gaze on the guard leader, then lunged forward. The big guard stumbled back in shock. But Pavo’s wild swipe with the sharpened rock was easily parried by a swing of Gorzam’s spear. The shaft thwacked into Pavo’s wrist with a crack of bone. The makeshift blade flew from his grip into the salt pit behind him, disappearing in moments. Pavo staggered back, clutching his wrist. Then Gorzam ducked and swept his spear shaft round to smash it against Pavo’s ankles. The pain was blinding and he toppled to the ground. Gorzam lined up his spear over Pavo’s heart. ‘Or perhaps I should just finish you now, to have the pleasure of seeing the light dim in your eyes . . . just as I did when I threw that dog Khaled down the shaft. He was still alive, you know, just before I dropped him.’