The battling pair seemed far, far away. Who are they again?
Indavara turned on to his side. He could see the glinting metal of the sword but as he reached for it the image shifted and contorted until he had to look away.
Get up. Got to get up.
Sucking in lungfuls of air, he fumbled his way on to his knees. He shook his head to clear the fog but the pain struck him once more and he fell forward onto the sand. When he could see again, the first thing he noticed was the blood. The blood that had collected in a hollow atop the small rock in front of him.
I landed on it. Hit my head.
‘Come on, Manius!’
Manius. Manius Eborius.
Indavara got up on his knees again and reached for the back of his head. The hair was sticky, soaked. His fingers found the wound — a half-inch rent in the flesh. He cried out and let go.
You’ve had worse. Get up.
He reached for the sword. It took a while to make his fingers work but he held it and pressed the tip into the sand to help him stand. Up on one knee, then on both feet. The sky swirled around him. The pain swirled around his head. He staggered but stayed upright.
He looked along the beach. They were coming back towards him, a thrashing tangle of red and bronze, arms and blades. He tried to move towards them but almost fell again.
Stop. Breathe. Long, deep breaths.
‘Come on, man! You can do better!’
Carnifex. His name’s Carnifex.
Somehow, Indavara found himself on his knees again, though he had kept hold of the sword. The fingers of his left hand were in a pool of icy water. He bent over, cupped his hand and flicked the water on to his face. His vision began to clear again, though he could have sworn someone was still hammering the back of his head with that rock. He looked up.
Eborius was forcing Carnifex — who had somehow lost his shield — back along the shore. The younger centurion launched a prodigious swing over his head. The older man blocked the blow but the impact sent him back several feet.
‘That’s the way!’ roared Carnifex. ‘Come on!’
Indavara gripped the sword handle tight. At last his body seemed to be doing what he told it to. Resting his other hand on the rounded pommel, he put the blade in the sand again to help him up. Eyes closed, he waited until he was steady on his feet. Then he opened them. Eborius and Carnifex were even closer.
With his height and a reach perhaps even longer than his foe’s, Eborius now seemed to have the advantage. Mouth set in a snarl, both hands on his sword, he swung again. This time Carnifex didn’t block, but stepped neatly to his left and watched the tip of the blade fly past his chest. With Eborius momentarily unbalanced, Carnifex plucked his dagger from his belt and jammed it deep into Eborius’s right arm where the armour had been cut away.
Carnifex left the knife there and retreated.
Indavara felt thick, warm blood oozing down the back of his neck.
It seemed to take Eborius a moment to realise what had happened. As he stared dumbly at the dagger handle, Carnifex heaved his sword at his head. The helmet absorbed most of the blow but Eborius was reeling.
Indavara started towards them but in the next instant he was down again.
Eborius’s sword fell from his hand; the arm was useless now. Carnifex knew he had him and he wasted no time. Three swift hacks made a mess of the mail shirt, and as Eborius tottered backwards, hundreds of the little metal rings rained down on to his boots. He was still looking at them when Carnifex reversed his sword and jabbed the solid bronze handle between his eyes.
Stunned, the big officer fell to his knees.
Carnifex lowered his blade and reached under the younger man’s chin to undo the strap. He then wrenched off the helmet and threw it away. Eborius’ eyelids were flickering, his head lolling to one side. Carnifex ran a hand though his curly black hair, then gripped it and tilted his head up.
‘I killed you, Eborius.’
‘I fought you, Carnifex,’ Eborius gurgled through the blood running down over his teeth.
Indavara tried to blink away the double vision.
Get up. Move.
A casual swing of Carnifex’s blade took two inches out of Eborius’s neck. The lifeless frame crashed forward onto the sand.
‘That you did, lad,’ Carnifex said as he turned. ‘That you did.’
Indavara was back on one knee.
Get up or he’ll kill you. Get up!
Carnifex wiped his mouth, boots squelching in the sand as he walked towards him. ‘Your turn again, One Ear.’
The broken, crumbling concrete was agony for Annia and Noster. Cassius had to try to help them both and progress was maddeningly slow. He wanted to stop and look back but he forced himself not to turn round.
They were still fifty feet from the end of the breakwater when Asdribar brought the Fortuna alongside. Korinth and Desenna made daring leaps up on to the concrete and held the ship in position with two lines. Simo made his way on to the side-rail and clambered up between them. Cassius heard Asdribar shouting at Clara, telling her to stay onboard. Squint was the only other sailor on deck; the others were manning the oars.
‘Get them aboard!’ Cassius told Simo.
‘Lad, take this!’ yelled Squint, flinging a short sword up on to the breakwater. Cassius let it land, then picked it up and ran back towards the shore.
Carnifex was five yards away when Indavara got to his feet. He retreated towards the warehouse, mainly to give his head more time to clear.
The sweat running down Carnifex’s face was loosening more of the burnt skin. He touched his brow and a strip of it peeled off in his hand. Indavara ran his eyes over the old centurion for signs that Eborius had caught him but there was little damage to his armour and no marks anywhere else. Only that slight limp and the gnarled left knee.
Grinning, Carnifex forced Indavara back with a few half-hearted but well-aimed thrusts. Indavara found he could barely get his weapon in the way, let alone think about mounting an attack. The throbbing at the back of his head seemed to be seeping forward again.
‘Even slower now, boy,’ said Carnifex before launching a scything blow that knocked Indavara’s blade high and away from him. He followed up with an arrow-straight kick that landed in Indavara’s midriff.
The blow sent him flying backwards. His left foot gave way and he fell sideways into the timbers of the warehouse wall. As he slumped to the ground, splintering bolts of pain shot across his left shoulder; he knew instantly he had dislocated his arm.
‘Oh,’ said Carnifex, observing the strange angle at which the arm now hung. ‘That’s not going to help. Think it’s broke, One Ear. Best get this over with.’
Carnifex thundered forward and heaved the sword down at his head. Indavara brought his weapon up in a horizontal block and set his right arm. The blades connected six inches above him with a shuddering clang.
A moment of silence. Indavara looked down and saw the shattered remains of both blades lying in the sand. He and Carnifex were holding handles with only a few jagged inches of metal attached. The centurion gave a surprised grunt.
Indavara pushed himself up the warehouse wall. He threw the broken sword to the ground, reached over and tucked his left hand into his belt. The arm just hung there, burning. He reckoned if he hadn’t had the wall behind him he might have fainted.
I feel no pain. No pain.
He formed a fist with his right hand and took a single step forward.
Carnifex — standing no more than three feet away — glanced at the crippled arm and gave an approving grin. ‘Ain’t ever seen that before. Always did like you, One Ear. You a soldier?’