The others had gathered around an ancient oak tree, as Fergus came stumbling towards them through the undergrowth. Numerius was lying on the ground and Flavius and Barukh were tending to him as best as they could.
“Muffle him,” Fergus said sharply, as he came up to his companions. “His cries are going to give away our position.”
Adalwolf caught Fergus by the arm, his eyes wide with shock.
“They were women!” He exclaimed. “Those riders shooting at us. They were women. I saw them. We are being hunted by women - Amazons.”
“We can’t stay here,” Fergus said, as ignoring Adalwolf, he knelt beside Numerius and looked down at his wounded companion. “The darkness will shield us, and the river is too deep for them to cross but there may be a ford further upstream and the night will not last forever.”
“How the hell did they overtake us so quickly?” Arlyn hissed in a dismayed voice. “They must have been at least two or three hours behind us when we spotted Skula’s smoke. How can they have moved so fast?”
“I don’t know,” Fergus snapped tensely. “Maybe they knew a short cut. We don’t know this land. They do. But it doesn’t matter. They have caught up. We must deal with it.”
“Well if this is the best that they can do, then they are not very good archers,” one of the Italian brothers exclaimed, as he spat onto the ground.
“No,” Fergus said sharply, as he looked up at the brother. “If they wanted us dead we wouldn’t all be here right now.”
“What do you mean?” Arlyn snapped from the shadows.
On the ground, Flavius had forced a piece of wood into Numerius’s mouth and the former praetorian guardsman was grimacing, as he bit down on it with his teeth. Carefully Flavius began to pull the arrow from the flesh and, as he did, it came away with a sickening, sucking pluck. Extracting the arrow, Flavius held it up in the dying light, then leaned forwards and sniffed the arrowhead. On the ground Numerius groaned, as Barukh hastily tore a strip from his tunic, poured some vinegar over the wound and began to bind it up with the cloth.
“They want us alive,” Fergus said, as he turned in Arlyn’s direction. “We only have value to them if they can take us alive. I think they intend to sell us to Prince Sanatruces. That must be their plan. This attack was just meant to slow us down. Those Amazons were probably scouts, riding ahead of the main force.”
Amongst the trees his comrades remained silent, as they digested what had just been said, and in the gathering darkness the only noise came from the snorting horses and Numerius’s groaning.
“Why would they want to slow us down?” one of the brothers asked as Barukh finished binding up the leg wound.
“Because they already know where we are heading,” Fergus said harshly, as he rose to his feet and gestured for Flavius and the older brother to lift Numerius up onto one of the remaining horses. “There is only one way across these mountains and that is through the Caucasian Gates. That’s where they will be heading, to cut us off from our escape route across the mountains. So, we must make a choice. Either we use this darkness to push on and hope we make the pass before the Alani do. Or we find a place to rest and recover before setting out again.”
“I am with you whatever you decide,” Saadi hissed from the gloom.
“You are the boss,” Flavius shrugged as he finished hoisting Numerius over the horse. “We do what you decide Fergus.”
Fergus was silent as he turned to gaze at the anxious faces watching him. If they pushed on towards the mountain pass, using the darkness as cover, he could be blundering straight into an Alani ambush with exhausted horses and men. But if he sought to hide and rest he would be abandoning all hope of reaching the Caucasian Gates before the Alani caught up. Then their route would be blocked.
“All right,” he snapped as he made up his mind. “I reckon that we are probably ten or fifteen miles from the Caucasian Gates, but we are not going to make it tonight. Not in our current state. So, let’s use the darkness to find ourselves somewhere to hide and rest. We will figure out what to do, when we have found shelter. We need to move away from the river. Arlyn you will take point. Find us a place to hide. Don’t lose sight of the man in front of you and keep quiet. Now let’s go.”
As the small party started out in single file through the wood heading westwards, Fergus positioned himself at the rear, behind the horse carrying Numerius. Flavius was walking beside the beast, with one hand making sure that the former praetorian did not slide off onto the ground. Numerius was groaning softly and seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness. It wasn’t only the arrow wound, Fergus thought as he followed his companions through the forest and thick undergrowth. The nasty tumble from the horse could have broken bones in Numerius’s body and caused internal bleeding. But there was no time to check. Nor was any of them qualified to handle such injuries. Glancing at the horses, Fergus could see that they were lathered in sweat and exhausted from the day’s long ride. No, there could be no question of pushing his exhausted men and horses towards the pass without knowing who was in front of him or how far they still had to go. They had to rest and recover their strength. Tomorrow he would think up a new plan.
As they pushed deeper into the dense forest the darkness steadily grew, enclosing them in a veil of perfect and protective blackness. In the night sky there was no sign of the stars and the moon and soon Fergus lost visual sight of Arlyn. The only way he knew the tall Hibernian was still leading them, was Arlyn’s occasional soft birdcall to mark his position. At last, after an hour of plodding deeper into the forest, the ground started to slope steeply down into a gorge and as they began to descend, Fergus had to help Flavius steady his skittish horse. At the bottom of the gorge they splashed through a small muddy stream and then a little later, Flavius came to an abrupt halt.
“Sir,” a soft voice called out in the darkness. “I think there is some sort of cave ahead. Shall we make camp?”
“All right,” Fergus growled as he pushed his way past Flavius - “but there will be no camp fire. We can’t risk it.”
***
The night was silent, pitch-black and cold as Fergus sat on the ground, his back propped up against a rock. He’d lost his warm, Alani blanket when his horse had been killed and he was sorely missing it now. The cave that Arlyn had found was more an overhanging cliff of solid rock, set at the bottom of the narrow gorge, but it would have to do. At least there was water for them and the horses to drink. Restlessly Fergus gazed up at the dark skies high above. He could not sleep as he tried to figure out what to do next. Close by, a body suddenly stirred, and a hand came out of the darkness and gently prodded him.
“What?” Fergus muttered in an annoyed voice.
“Sir,” Flavius whispered. “I didn’t want to mention it whilst the others were still awake.”
“What?” Fergus repeated.
“We have another problem Sir,” Flavius whispered. “That arrow which struck Numerius in the leg. I think it was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” Fergus hissed as he turned to stare in Flavius’s direction. “Are you sure?”
“I think so,” Flavius whispered. “I had a sniff and the arrow head smelt funny and I remember that Skula once told me that his people used poisoned arrows. It means Sir that we have to make another decision.”
“We are not leaving Numerius behind,” Fergus hissed, as he shook his head. “I am bringing you all home.”
“With all respect I don’t think that is up to you Sir,” Flavius whispered. “Numerius is already a dead man. That poison will kill him slowly. We should leave him behind. He is going to slow us down and you know it Sir. Those Alani riders knew what they were doing. This is exactly what they want us to do. Taking Numerius with us is just going to slow us down. We have already lost two of the horses. I don’t want to leave him behind either. But it is the correct decision Sir.”
“No,” Fergus said firmly. “No one is going to be left behind. We are all going to get out of this.”
&nb
sp; Chapter Twenty-Eight – The Caucasian Gates
It was still dark when Fergus woke his companions. In the night the weather had changed, and it had started to rain. In the gloom they silently gathered together around Numerius, who was lying stretched out on the ground. The wounded man seemed to be unconscious, but he was still breathing.
“We’re going to try and push on towards the Caucasian Gates today,” Fergus said. “It’s the only way we’re going to get home. We must assume that the Alani have already reached the pass and are waiting for us. So, if we can’t fight them, outrun them or hide from them, there is only one thing left for us to do.” Fergus paused, as he looked at the huge amount of rainwater that was pouring over the edge of nearby overhanging rocks, like a curtain, into the valley below. “What we are going to do is trick them, he said in a determined voice. I am bringing all of you home. No one is going to be left behind. This mission began with the aim of bringing Adalwolf back home but each of you is as important to me as he is. You are my comrades in arms. You are my brothers. You are my friends. We will try and get as close to the mountain pass as we can. After that we’ll figure it out from there. But we are going to get home, all of us. I want you to know that. We are going to do this.”
In the darkness no one spoke, and the only noise was the heavy continuous patter of the rain.
“All right, let’s move out,” Fergus said, trying to sound as confident as he could. “I will take point. Arlyn and Flavius will bring up the rear. We don’t have enough horses, so we shall walk and keep to the cover of the forest. Keep your eyes open and keep the noise down. Those Alani are out there searching for us.”
***
At dawn the rain seemed only to be growing in intensity. The grey, depressing skies were filled with dark storm clouds and the sun had been banished. Completely drenched, Fergus plodded on through the forest. The terrain had grown rougher and had started to rise steeply and their progress had slowed, as they pushed on in the direction of the towering, snow-capped mountain peaks. Behind him his companions came on, silently winding their way up the hillside. Grimly Fergus peered up the slope and through the trees. He hadn’t a clue about how he was going to get through to the Caucasian Gates. His confidence had been fake. Yet he had to pretend that he knew what he was doing. His companions were relying on him to get them home. Their belief and trust in him was the only reason they followed him. It was the essence of command. The responsibility was a heavy burden and his companions’ faith could vanish in an instance. But there was no point in dwelling on such matters Fergus thought, as he pushed on through the forest. He just had to get on with the job. He would have to throw the dice and see what he was given. If he failed and the Alani captured them, it wouldn’t matter anyway. It would all be over.
It was half way through the morning, when Fergus caught sight of the Terek through a gap in the trees. Hastily he raised his fist in the air and crouched on the sodden ground and, behind him his companions came to an abrupt halt. The storm was still raging, plunging the world into a strange grey twilight and, in the torrential driving rain, Fergus saw that the slopes ahead were open grassland without much cover. The valley seemed to be rising straight up into rugged, rocky terrain. Looming over everything the snow-capped mountains, now very close, cast their shadows over the lush, rain struck alpine meadows and magnificent jagged-rock formations. Carefully Fergus wiped the rain from his forehead, as his eyes slowly traced the course of the river up the valley to where it disappeared behind a cliff. Follow the Terek and it will lead you to the fortifications in the Darial gorge, Skula had told him. But from his position, he could see nothing but the driving rain and the raging white-water torrent that was the Terek. Turning around, Fergus silently beckoned for Adalwolf to join him and as he did so, high above him, a flash of lighting lit up the grey skies, followed a few moments later by the crack and deep roll of thunder.
As Adalwolf, his face and tunic totally sodden, crouched beside him, Fergus turned and pointed at the slopes leading towards the massive mountain barrier of rock and cliff that seemed to bar the route southwards.
“We need to go that way,” Fergus said, as another crack of thunder rolled across the mountains. “We need to follow the river. The fortifications blocking the mountain pass are somewhere beyond those cliffs.”
“I don’t like that open ground ahead of us,” Adalwolf grunted, shaking his head. “Once we venture out there, anyone posted on those cliffs will be able to spot us.”
Fergus nodded as he peered at the mountain slopes through the trees and the driving rain. “For now, we shall remain here in the cover of the forest,” Fergus said. “But you and I are going to do some reconnaissance. I need to know what lies around the corner of those cliffs; the ones behind which the river vanishes.”
***
The storm was showing no signs of abating. In the dull, grey sunless skies the rain came hammering into the earth, with a ferocity Fergus had seldom experienced and with it, came an icy northern wind. High above, the lightning flashes and the crack and roll of thunder seemed to be drawing closer. Wiping the water from his face, Fergus peered down into the valley below. Beside him, lying in the sodden grass, Adalwolf too, was staring at the Alani encampment and the narrow river valley, which funnelled upwards towards an even narrower defile before twisting away into the mountains, a half a mile away. The Alani tribesmen were split into two groups, with one on each side of the raging white water river. Most had sought shelter from the storm along the sheer cliff faces. However, a few hardy horsemen were out in the open, guarding the narrow valley leading up to the even narrower rocky defile. Through this the swift, thundering white water of the Terek came careering and surging on its wild, breakneck journey through the mountains and out into the northern plains.
“I count around forty of them,” Adalwolf said, as he gazed down at the Alani. “They seem to have brought extra horses. Maybe that is how they managed to overtake us.”
Fergus said nothing as he studied the encampment. The Alani had done just as he had expected. They had blocked the valley leading towards the Darial gorge and the Caucasian Gates and, in the confined narrowing mountain valley, there seemed no possibility of slipping past them without being spotted.
“We could just leave them here to stew,” Adalwolf said with a sigh. “Surely there must be another way across these mountains.”
“No,” Fergus replied sharply. “The Alani have the numbers. They have the horses. They know this land. They will track us down eventually. It’s just a matter of time. And there are no other passes across these mountains that I know about. No, we have to find a way through them here - and quickly.”
“I shall pray to the gods,” Adalwolf said with a hint of weary sarcasm in his voice.
Fergus wiped the rain from his face again, as he peered at the Alani. For a while the two of them lay in their observation post without speaking. Then, as another shattering crash and rumble of thunder tore the skies apart, a sudden crack and swift movement caught Fergus’s eye. In stunned silence, he watched, as in the valley above the Alani camp, a section of the mountainside came loose and started to slide down the steep slopes. An enormous deluge of mud, rocks and debris went roaring and slithering over the cliff edge and down into the river below.
“Landslide,” Adalwolf gasped, as he watched the torrent of debris crashing down into the river. “Fuck me. Have you ever seen anything like that?”
Fergus stared at the spectacle in awe, as a few final rocks went tumbling down the side of the mountain and into the river. The landslide seemed to have blocked most of the Terek’s course with a dam of mud and rocks. For a long while the two of them gazed at the freak blockage.
“The debris from the landslide seems to be holding back the river,” Adalwolf suddenly exclaimed. “But it looks mighty unstable. That dam is not going to hold forever. With all that river water pressure piling up behind it, there is going to be a flash flood, when it breaks. Have you ever witnessed a flash flood before Fe
rgus?”
“I haven’t,” Fergus muttered.
“So dangerous,” Adalwolf replied, shaking his head. “One moment the river bed is dry. Then within moments a wall of water is upon you, sweeping everything before it. Nothing survives being hit by a flash flood. It just flattens everything and it’s so quick. The worst thing is that you have little warning that it’s about to hit you.”
On the ground Fergus suddenly seemed to perk up. Hastily he shifted his gaze away from the landslide towards the Alani. The tribesmen too had noticed the landslide and, as he looked on, the figures nearest to the river began to move away to a respectable distance.
“They are afraid,” Fergus hissed in sudden excitement. “Look. They are moving away from the river. They too, must be worried about that dam breaking.”
“I see them,” Adalwolf replied. “That’s only sensible. When that dam breaks the flash-flood is going to go straight down the river. You don’t want to be anywhere near the river when it breaks.”
For a long moment Fergus stared at the Alani and the river. Then, despite the driving rain a little colour shot into his cheeks.
Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia (Book 8 of the Veteran of Rome Series) Page 27
