The older girl scrunched up her face as though she were trying to remember. “There was that explosion, and then. . and then. . mama fell. . and then. . the man with the daggers took her. He killed mama!” Close to tears again, the girl clung tight to her sister.
“Which way did they go?” Julius asked tenderly, knowing that each minute was not to be wasted.
“I think they went out this door here. I saw it close when you ran up to us,” the girl hiccupped.
Without a word, Julius ran off, determined to hunt down the assassin and his hostage if it was the last thing he did. Hopefully this will not be the last thing I do.
The doorway led to a series of small lifts. One was already in operation, the chains and gears clinking as they moved. Julius shut the gate on another one and pulled a lever down. With a jolt, the machine whirred to life, lowering him into the depths. He looked over the edge of the lift, seeing the light of a single lantern on the other lift far below. “Senatora?” he shouted.
A strangled yelp came back, cut off in mid response. That’s her.
Julius scanned the lift’s control panel, fiddling with the lever to see if he could make it go faster. Finding no option, he settled back and took stock of his situation as the two lifts inched ever downward.
He dug through each of his belt pouches, finding little of use. A pair of utility gloves, a small ball of twine, and various rocks and other odds and ends. Great, what an abundance of material with which to craft a rescue plan. Julius now realized that he was chasing an extremely talented killer with a pittance of tools and a single spear at his disposal.
He lay back and thought for a few moments, giving his brain the time it needed to come up with ideas. What Julius got was absolutely nothing. He peeked over the edge again, and saw that the other lift was growing steadily larger. A pool of light illuminated it, and Julius surmised that he was approaching his destination.
All of a sudden his lift lurched, stopping abruptly in midair. Julius pulled the lever up and down, trying to get the machine restarted. It was no use. He was stuck.
Or was he? Julius looked at the sturdy chain to his left, his hands moving to the tough utility gloves in his pouch. It’s the only way. He pulled on the gloves, then stowed his spear awkwardly on his back from shoulder to hip, pushing it through the webbing and belt. He eyed the chain assembly. “Oh well, here goes nothing.”
He took a running leap and jumped for the other cable. His hands wrapped around the heavy links and he swung to a stop with a bone-rattling shock. Releasing a brief cheer on a weak exhalation, he offered up a prayer. Thanks be to you, gods. If I get out of this alive, I shall deliver to you an ox. An entire ox. With all the good parts still on it. Frantic times like this made him a very religious man.
He clambered down the chains, one after another. Each time he tried to go faster, he found himself nearly falling. It would do him no good to hurry up and die, he told himself. Instead he moved slowly and purposefully, hand under hand, down the chain.
Arms screaming, he finally saw the platform and pushed himself to continue until, judging it safe, he dropped the last ten feet and collapsed in a heap on the platform. Julius spent a moment massaging his arms, trying to get feeling back into them for the second time that day. Thank goodness Corbus wasn’t waiting there for me. I would have been an easy kill.
Standing with the aide of his spear, Julius surveyed the hallway that stretched before him. The tunnel ran downward at a steep incline, with oil lanterns set at intervals lighting the way. Hefting the spear in one hand, Julius loped down the tunnel.
He found himself wishing for his spatha and scutum. May as well wish for a friggin’ mechaniphant while you’re at it, he berated himself. Make do with what you have.
The monotony of his descent into the earth finally ended at a large arch set into the stone-the end of the tunnel. Julius heard noises. Anticipation and adrenaline gave him newfound energy as he sprinted to the doorway. He paused to one side and glanced around the corner.
And gasped. He was looking at an immense workshop and manufactoria. Machines in various states of assemblage or disassemblage stood about, while every conceivable tool of the modern industrial trade could be seen.
Julius slipped inside, taking cover behind a large tool chest. Moving from cover to cover, he crept toward the sounds of voices he’d heard from the tunnel. As he moved forward, he couldn’t help but notice the increase of natural daylight. Perhaps the facility had very large windows? But the rapidly dropping temperature soon made Julius realize that this facility was open to the outside world. Finally he paused to let his eyes adjust to the harsh winter sunlight.
“And how exactly do you plan to escape here? There’s no way off this peninsula that isn’t controlled by Rome,” the senatora was saying, full of bluster. Julius detected the undercurrents of fear and worry, though. Corbus must have mumbled his reply, because Julius could not hear him properly.
He crept closer, finally seeing Corbus fiddling with the controls of a large mecha-wolf. The senatora was seated behind him. She happened to turn his way for a moment. Taking a chance, Julius waved at her while Corbus’s attention was focused on the machine. She saw him and gave a brief nod back, before turning back to Corbus.
“And it will be too cold for us to travel overland,” she continued, raising her voice to cover Julius’s movements as he crept closer. “This machine will run out of fuel. And this thing can’t swim, right?” She kept one eye on him as she scolded the assassin.
Finally Julius nodded to her and stepped out. “Good afternoon, Corbus. Going somewhere?”
Corbus turned quickly to face this new threat. In a flash, Octavia pulled his hand repeater from its belt holster and jabbed its razor-sharp tip between his shoulder blades. “You’ll be happy to know that I’m taking you back to Rome to be tried for the deaths of over fifteen thousand Brittenburgers and for your involvement in the Brittenburg Revolt. I’ve heard they’ve already hung several revolt leaders already. I’m dying to see you join them.”
Corbus gave a weak smile. “And what makes you think I’m going to come peacefully?” he asked.
Julius considered. “I’ve got an army coming down that hallway just this minute. The other legions have surrounded the city. You have a repeater aimed right at your spine, and you have nowhere left to run.” He cocked his head to one side. “I think that’s enough.”
Corbus grinned wickedly. “You wish, Centurion Caesar, that you could capture me.”
Chapter 27
Constantine
Constantine watched Julius disappear through the doorway at the back of the throne room. He was busy grappling with one of the king’s massive bodyguards. The barrel-chested Nortlander was using his superior strength to beat his way through Constantine’s shield with his axe. Spinning, the prince tried to evade the man’s strike, but his axe embedded itself in the tough shield and snagged there.
Constantine jerked his shield backward, pulling the larger man off balance. Quick as a whip, Constantine stabbed with his spatha, the hardened steel splitting chainmail and sliding easily through the man’s toughened leather jerkin. He withdrew his weapon and turned, dropping his shield and pulling his dagger as another bodyguard came at him.
As Constantine deflected his aggressive strokes, he saw the enemy king fighting blade to blade with the man whom Constantine could only assume from his description was Duke Laufas. The men moved like water, flowing through poses as graceful and deadly as those taught by his former swordsmaster back in Rome.