"Fire!" screamed Nikos in panic, seeing the horror lurch forward toward his commander. He scuttled back, groping for a weapon on the ground. "Fire now!"
The homunculus turned, grinning, its shattered face lit by the flames. It hissed, a long dry sound, and rushed at Nikos like a lion. The Illyrian threw himself aside, feeling heavy and slow in the armor. There was a grunting sound behind him, the smacking sound of meat and steel and then a gelid pop. Nikos rolled up, wiping blood from his eye. His scalp cut was bleeding freely.
The creature stood frozen, pierced by a long heavy spear. Karhmi and Efraim had run forward at the same moment that Nikos had jumped aside. Between them they held a long pike, a sarissa, and when the homunculus leapt for the Illyrian, they caught it on the foot-long tip like a gar-pike on a hook. A bladder had been lashed to the crossbars of the weapon and the fluid inside, black and sticky, splashed over the creature's chest and arms.
"Fire!" shrieked Nikos and he backpedaled. The two soldiers dodged away as well, dropping the pike. The bowmen hiding atop the boulders had been waiting, fire-arrows at the ready. Now the air hissed with bowshot and flaming streaks of light flashed toward the creature. It moved abruptly, tearing the spear from its side, and sprang back, sending droplets of the black liquid flying in all directions. Arrows, burning with pitch, thudded into the ground where it had been. One struck at the edge of the broad arc of splashed liquid and there was a sudden guttural roar and blue-white flame leapt up from the turf.
Nikos ran sideways, one hand up to shade his eyes. The phlogiston splashed on the ground was burning furiously, filling the grotto with the sound of its combustion. He had lost sight of the creature, which was death in such a tight space as this. Bitter white smoke boiled up, obscuring everyone's vision.
Thyatis shook off the concussion and rolled up, feeling giddy. A bright lancet of pain crawled across her side, telling her that at least one ribhad broken on the boulder's unyielding surface. She had lost the sword somewhere, but she still had at least one long knife. It was already in her hand, snatched from her sheath without conscious thought. Her men were shouting in alarm, but she ignored that for the moment. She darted to the right, toward where the Prince had lain against the tree. The homunculus was a deadly threat, but the Prince was the mission.
Maxian's eyes fluttered open, seeing a blinding white light. A sharp acrid smell assaulted his nostrils. He was tremendously cold. Blood bubbled from his lips, spilling down his chin.
What is this? The Prince's mind shuddered with waves of pain. Is this the ferryman? Where is the black river?
With an enormous effort, the Prince tried to raise a hand. He could not. He was too weak.
A silhouette suddenly came into focus against the actinic glare. It moved and sharpened into focus. It was the woman, her hair in disarray, soot smudged along one high cheekbone. There was steel in her hand, a long knife with a wicked edge. Her gray eyes bored into his, filled with intense determination. Her free hand grasped his hair, bending his head sharply back.
Maxian tried to speak, but blood clogged his throat and there was only a ghastly bubbling sound. The cold edge of the knife pressed against his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the woman was wearing a brooch or pendant that bound her hair back. It had fallen to one side, and it gleamed brightly in the shuddering light. On it, incised in the bronze surface, was the sigil of an eye flanked by curved wings.
The Imperial Office of Barbarians. The thought forced its way through the roaring pain. My brother. Galen. Aurelian. The Emperor.
Maxian's heart seemed to stop. Awareness flooded him. The wellequipped soldiers. The forbidden chemicals. The speed and ferocity of the attack. A vision of his brother's face swam into view, Galen's dark eyes hooded, face drawn and fatigued, that one lock of hair lying across his forehead. Metal sawed into the flesh of his throat.
You would kill me? Maxian felt his heart crush under the weight of that betrayal. The vision turned, staring at him across the leagues. The nervous bright eyes were grim and filled with pain. You would order my death?
This thing must be done, said the vision. The State must endure.
Then Maxian's heart did break.
Thyatis saw the man's eyes flutter closed and felt his pulse stagger and stop under her hand. She drew back the knife, hesitating for a moment. A shriek from behind her made her spin and drop into a crouch. The creature had suddenly bolted out of the shadows of a boulder and had ripped the throat from one of the soldiers. The men had moved out into the open ground, their spears at the ready, but no one had expected the thing to spring from atop one of the smaller boulders. The other men converged on the thing, and the air filled with burning arrows again. Thyatis ran forward, shying away from the pool of burning phlogiston
Khiron wrenched the man's head from his neck and blood sprayed out, blinding the first man that rushed at it. Heedless of the arrows that filled the air, the homunculus leapt past the spear and punched two stiffened fingers tipped with hardened bone into the blinded soldiers' eye sockets. There was a wet spattering sound and red gore slimed its fingers. The man fell without a sound. Another spear jabbed in from the side, but Khiron weaved away from it.
Thyatis, running up to the edge of the fray, ground her teeth. Fighting the thing one on one would do nothing! She opened her mouth to shout a command, but there was a swinging motion at the edge of her vision and she ducked instinctively.
Nikos overhanded a branch, torn from one of the burning trees, into the creature's back as it was wrenching a long spear from a legionnaire's hands. The oak leaves, wreathed in their own sputtering flame, struck the back of the homunculus and the phlogiston that had clung like black oil to the rippling muscle and flesh and sinew flashed alight. Khiron leapt straight up, howling in despair, and then burst into flame like a flower opening to the sun with impossible speed. The legionnaires scattered.
Khiron slammed back down to earth, a frenzy of thrashing limbs, rolling frantically and clawing at the earth. The phlogiston crackled and hissed, burning furiously. It wailed in a high-pitched voice like a baby frying in its own fat. The ancient flesh, held together only by will and sorcery, burned with an amazingly hot blue flame. The creature staggered up, wreathed in a corona of almost invisible fire. Nikos fell back, holding his hand up to shield his face from the intense heat. The thing took a step, but its flesh and muscle were already dissolving into a burning jelly.
Thyatis fell back, too, turning her head away from the gruesome sight. She had unfinished business. She sprinted back toward the Prince.
Maxian's heart stuttered and stopped and then, as the last flicker of thought curdled down into a black abyss, something bright and burning like the sun rose up. Hate flared in the man's heart, and something enormous was shrieking at him, demanding release. The fragile last tendril of will stabbed out into the cold darkness and found power waiting for it: colossal untapped power that had been restrained for centuries, building and building in strength, deep under the earth.
Gods, raged Maxian, my brother kills me? My family treats me as a mad dog?
The crumbling lattice of his thought and will flared to life, stitching itself into a feeble semblance of its full shape. His body was destroyed, ruined, slashed and cut, pierced. Flames lapped at his feet, burning through his boots. But in the earth below him, a brilliant green flood of power surged up, slipping through cracks and crevices in the binding that had lain upon it for so long. The Prince, lying near death at the summit of the mountain, reached out, spending the last of his own rage to touch the heart of the volcano.