Legionary(88)

Pavo’s heart thundered against his ribs and his breath came and went in short, snatched gasps through gritted teeth.

‘No,’ Gorzam mused, tracing the spear tip to Pavo’s groin. ‘A deep wound to the thigh and you’ll bleed until you’re weak as a lamb.’ His face lit up in anticipation as he thrust the spear down. Then he frowned as the weapon clunked upon something.

Pavo frowned too. He had felt the tearing agony of sword and spear wounds before. But there was nothing. Just a dull pain.

Gorzam lifted his spear, glowering at the tip, then at Pavo. The phalera medallion slid from Pavo’s loincloth, battered and bent where it had taken the force of the blow. Pavo snatched up and gawped at the piece, then gasped as Gorzam roared and hefted the spear to strike down for a killer blow. Pavo rolled to one side, the spear tip punching down, scoring his back. He tried to stand, but felt the ground slide away under him. Panic gripped his heart; he had rolled onto a salt pit. He was sinking. The salt sucked him down. He was waist deep, then it was up to his chest. He looked up and saw Gorzam watching on gleefully, his laughter filling the passageway.

Pavo knew he had but a heartbeat. His eyes latched onto the butt of Gorzam’s spear resting by the edge of the pit. He stretched every sinew and reached out to grasp the shaft, hauling at it with all his might. Gorzam growled, shaking the spear, but Pavo clung on and prised himself clear of the salt pit. As he felt his legs pull clear, he then drew himself up and thrust his knee up and into Gorzam’s guts. The big guard staggered, winded. Pavo wasted no time, shouldering him in the chest, sending him flailing, then toppling into one of the glistening black pools. Gorzam thrashed to get to the edge of the pool, his skin slick with the viscous liquid. Pavo backed away, glancing around for a weapon.

Falco, hearing the splashing, called back from the end of the corridor where he and his comrades chipped and battered at the salt crystal. ‘Put light to it – the black oil!’

Pavo frowned, then saw Gorzam’s dropped torch only feet away. He stooped and lifted it, then tossed it into the black pool.

Gorzam’s eyes bulged in panic. He cried out in terror, then the torch set light to the oil with a ferocious roar and an angry inferno. At once, the corridor shone like a beacon, orange fury leaping from the pool.

Pavo staggered back, staring at the thrashing, screaming figure in the midst of the flames. He spat on the ground. ‘Your last few moments are for my father, for Khaled and for all the others who have suffered under your yoke.’ Gorzam’s roars died away and his form sunk under the blazing surface.

Pavo spun to find Sura wrestling with the other guard to gain control of the spear. He stooped to pick up Gorzam’s spear then lunged forward, punching the tip into the guard’s gut, driving the gurgling foe away from Sura and then on until the man crunched against the corridor wall.

‘A weapon, for pity’s sake!’ Sura yelled.

Pavo threw him the second guard’s spear, then the pair rushed to the fray between Felix, the XI Claudia men and the remaining guards. Six guards remained, fighting like jackals with Felix, Zosimus, Quadratus, Noster and Habitus. Rufus and the two slaves who had come with them lay in bloody heaps on the corridor floor.

Pavo rushed to aid Noster, who was being beaten back by the furious spear jabs of one guard. But before he could reach the pair, the guard plunged his spear through Noster’s throat. The young legionary gurgled and gawped at his killer, then he sunk to his knees and the life was gone from him. Pavo charged for the guard but the man spun to block. Their spear shafts clashed and the pair growled, noses inches apart. The guard kicked out at Pavo’s knee. Pavo stumbled back, then ducked to one side to avoid the follow up jab but the guard managed to kick out again, snapping Pavo’s spear. At a disadvantage, Pavo backed away, then stumbled on a rock and fell. As he righted himself, he scooped up a handful of salt and hurled it at the man’s face. The guard staggered back, waving his spear this way and that, blinded. Pavo grappled the splintered half of his own spear and rushed for the man, lancing him through the ribs, the tip bursting from the man’s other side. The cracking of bone was accompanied by a thick splash of blood and organs spilling from the wound.

Before the man had toppled to the ground, Pavo spun to find his next opponent. But it was over. The other guards lay still and silent. Felix was bleeding from a wound to the abdomen, but Quadratus and Zosimus were standing like a pair of twin oaks as usual – sweating, cut and bruised, but alive. Habitus had made it too, doubled over and retching.

Bashu was the only one of Gorzam’s party remaining. Now he was trapped between the panting legionaries and the end of the corridor, scrabbling to and fro like a trapped rat, his face contorted in fear. Quadratus strode over to him, lifting a spear to his neck.