Scythian Trilogy Book 2: The Golden King

by Max Overton

  The man let go of Prithia and turned to face Parasades. "What have we here then? Father of a pretty boy?" He poked Parasades in the chest with a grimy finger.

  Parasades instantly reached up with his left hand and bent the man's finger back until it cracked. As the man let out a surprised howl of pain, Parasades stabbed the fingers of his right hand forward into the man's face. The man screamed, clutching his eyes, and staggered back. Parasades grabbed Certes and Prithia and pushed them through the doorway into the night, following on their heels. "Quickly, up the street," he hissed.

  They ran into the storm. Behind them they heard shouting and some laughter, the bright light from the tavern door quickly extinguished as the men decided it was not worth the effort to follow them.

  Parasades ran up the street and cut to the right between two large houses, followed by Certes and Prithia. He turned right again then burst into an open space and stopped dead. "There." He pointed at a low stone building at the far side of opening. "He is in there." He looked around carefully then led the others across the bare ground until they stood in the lea of the stone building.

  "No guards?" said Certes softly. "There must be some. Where are they?"

  "Perhaps this is not the right place," commented Prithia, looking around nervously.

  "He said it was the only stone building in Zarmet." Parasades looked around. "He said too, his horse was in the great square. I do not see it."

  "Does it matter?" asked Certes. "We are here for Nikomayros, not his horse."

  Parasades shrugged. "It would be a pity to leave such a good piece of horseflesh for the Serratae. Still, no great matter." He beckoned them along the side of the building. "There will be guards inside but not outside on a night like this. Look for a window, or some other door besides the one opening onto the public square."

  They cautiously circumnavigated the building but there was no other way in. Prithia slumped against the icy wall. "What do we do now? We have no idea how many guards are in there."

  Certes nodded. "She is right, my lord. It would be foolish to attack an unknown force."

  Parasades wrapped his cloak tighter about him and hunkered down out of the wind. "We wait. Tomyra said she would provide a diversion. If she has not by dawn then we go back empty-handed. This was a foolish enterprise from the start."

  "My lord," whispered Prithia. "You said you would rescue the lord Nikomayros."

  "And so I shall if the gods allow. But I will not throw our lives away," he added. "Now wait."

  Time passed slowly, the wind falling and rising, swirling gusts of snow driving into their faces, chilling them. Two men crossed the great square and disappeared into a wooden shed. A broad swathe of yellow light poured out as the door swung open. A horse whinnied loudly and the timbers of the shed crashed as angry hooves connected with wooden walls.

  "I think we may have found Nikomayros' horse," whispered Certes.

  "Yes, and I think we may have found something else too," Parasades murmured while watching frantic activity across from where they hid.

  A man came out of a richly appointed house nearby and disappeared into the gloom. A few minutes later he reappeared, ushering in a woman. Minutes dragged by then the man and woman came out again and vanished into the storm. Shortly after, another man slipped out and ran into the night. At length the sound of muffled feet approached and Parasades arose and flattened himself against the wall.

  Three spearmen marched up to the prison building and rapped on the door. A chink of light appeared and words were exchanged, though Parasades was unable to make them out above the howling wind. The men entered the building and the door closed.

  "Maybe the guard is changing," said Certes hopefully.

  The door opened again and about ten men emerged, huddled in cloaks and grumbling at the cold. They moved in a group across to the house and disappeared inside.

  "The three men who entered were not among them," said Parasades. "They must be the replacement guards. We will not have a better opportunity." He drew his sword and strode around the corner to the wooden door. Making sure his companions were ready he rapped on the door with the pommel of his sword.

  The door creaked open and a surprised face peered out. "Finished already?" The man stared at the unfamiliar face and the upraised sword. His mouth fell open, a gnawed chicken leg falling from it as he stepped backward croaking an alarm.

  Parasades pulled the door open and stepped forward. The croak turned to a choking scream as Parasades plunged the sword into the man's belly and leaped inside the room. Wrenching his blade free he swept his eyes around the room.

  Two men squatted by a roaring fire with cups in their hands. Another sat on a bench by a small table, picking over a platter of meats. They looked up in surprise then leapt to their feet and reached for weapons. The man at the table flung a dagger at Parasades and without waiting to see its effect, picked up a stool and hurled himself toward the intruder with a roar of rage.

  One of the men by the fire grabbed a spear standing against a wall and lashed out with it, swinging it in an arc as Certes rushed in, only to stumble over the corpse by the door. He landed painfully on his knees, the spear haft whistling just above his head. Before he recovered from the blow, Prithia jumped forward and slashed the man in the arm with her sword. He dropped the spear with a curse and fumbled for the sword at his waist with his other hand. Certes stabbed up from a kneeling position and took the man under the ribcage. The guard fell with a groan and a clatter.

  The other guard meantime drew his sword and leapt clear of the fighting. As his companion dropped he stepped forward and brought his blade down sharply on Certes' sword, following it with a numbing kick to the young man's side. Certes rolled sideways, gasping with pain, fighting to retain control of his sword. Prithia pushed between her fallen friend and the guard. She blocked the guard's next blow then the next, but felt herself forced backward. Certes struggled to his feet and awkwardly slashed at the man. The guard pushed Prithia back savagely and turned to face Certes again.

  Certes thrust forward, almost overbalancing. The guard swept the blade aside, hacking at Certes then thrust in turn. Certes spun to the side, appalled at how close the sword blade came to his chest. He stepped back again then again as the man's sword probed for his body. The wall thudded into his back as he retreated and the man grinned, redoubling his efforts. Certes flicked his eyes desperately toward Prithia, only to see her still standing dazed in the far corner. Certes blocked another blow and slashed back. The man contemptuously knocked his sword aside and moved forward, his blade glinting as it came for Certes' life. The realisation of his death crowded in upon the young man as the point of the guard's sword seemed to creep toward him.

  The guard staggered, his eyes widening and his mouth opened, the sword wavering downward. A glint of metal appeared in the centre of his chest, growing rapidly. Blood sprayed out, spattering Certes' face. The man dropped to his knees, his face working in agony then fell forward, a spear quivering between his shoulder blades. Certes looked up to see Prithia staring wide-eyed from the far side of the room.

  A crash whipped the young man's attention from the girl, to see Parasades rolling around the floor with a howling man. Parasades' teeth sank into the man's hand and his own right hand, gripping his dagger, hammered at the man's side. Certes stepped forward, his sword at the ready, looking for an opening. The man's cries abruptly choked off and blood soaked his tunic.

  Parasades rolled off the man and clambered to his feet. He hawked and spat, smearing the blood running into his beard with the back of his hand, a hand already red with blood. He kicked the corpse and turned to look at his companions. Nodding at them, he grinned and pointed to the other door. "Prithia, keep watch! Certes, get that door open. Hurry!" he barked out.

  Prithia immediately shut the swinging outer door, putting her eye to a chink. Certes hauled back on the bolt of the inner door, pushing it open. He stepped into the darkened cell and almost fell as a fist glanced off his
head. He gave a shout of surprise and grappled with the man. Parasades grabbed a burning brand and thrust it high above him as he entered, his sword ready.

  "Certes, Timon, stop fighting." He watched with a smile on his face as both men slowly came to a realisation of the identity of their opponent. "We do not have time for this." His eyes swept the bare cell. "Agarus," he nodded, "...and, oh fornicating demons, what has happened to him?" Parasades dropped to his knees beside the unconscious body of Nikometros lying on the frozen earth floor of the cell. His hands probed the torn clothing on the Macedonian's chest, feeling the fever-hot wound and his icy limbs.

  Nikometros stirred and groaned. "Tomyra?" he muttered. "Is that you?"

  "We cannot take him," stated Parasades, rising to his feet. "He would hold us back." He gestured to Timon and Agarus. "Come, if we hurry we may yet get out of here."

  Timon stared back at Parasades. "I'm not leaving without him."

  "Nor I," affirmed Agarus. "It would be better to die than to leave my lord alone among these savages."

  Parasades cursed long and loud. "Look at him," he pleaded. "Feel his wound. He is dead, or will be by morning whether he stays or comes."

  "I will not leave him," growled Timon.

  "He cannot even walk. How are we supposed to evade a town full of warriors if we have to literally drag him along?"

  "I can carry him."

  "I am sure you can, Timon," agreed Parasades. "But can you run and fight at the same time? If you fall behind, I will leave you. I will not put these others in my care at risk."

  "I can help carry him," said Certes quietly. "No man deserves to die in a stone cell. If he must die, let him do so in freedom, with his friends around him."

  "I cannot carry him, but give me a weapon and I will fight to the death for my lord." Agarus drew himself up and stared into Parasades' blood-smeared face.

  "You are all mad," muttered Parasades. "And I can see I will die with you."

  "My lord!" came an urgent whisper from the next room. "Two men are coming this way!"

  Parasades flashed a look at the men standing around the cell. "Decide now, and follow." He ran out into the guardroom and eased his eye to a crack in the outer door. He grunted and tightened his grip on his sword. "When they reach the door," he whispered. "Take the one on the right, Prithia." The girl nodded and hefted a spear in her hand. Parasades glanced behind him and groaned when he saw Timon cradling the unconscious Nikometros in his burly arms. Agarus had armed himself with a spear and stood behind Timon. Certes hovered uncertainly between Timon and the door.

  Footsteps crunched in the snow outside the door. A gruff voice called out. "Open, we have wine!"

  Parasades nodded and threw his shoulder against the door, slamming it open. He leapt out, his sword stabbing. The man he targeted fell without a sound, the wineskins in his hands bursting purple over the snow. The man on the right took the full force of the door and staggered backward and fell, the spear launched by Prithia whistling over his head. With a cry he scrambled to his feet and ran, screaming a warning.

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  Chapter Twenty

  Bithyia stared at the entrance of the hut, the hangings still swinging from the violent egress of Sparses and his men. She walked over to her mistress and leaned close to her, whispering.

  "My lady, we must leave immediately." She edged around so that the two guards standing by the doorway could not see her face. "We can take these men." Her hand moved slowly to her sword hilt.

  Tomyra held Bithyia's gaze then barely shook her head. "We leave, but not with bloodshed unless we are forced to it," she answered softly. Aloud, she spoke matter-of-factly to Sarmatia. "Gather some food together, Sarmatia. We shall retire for the night." Tomyra pushed past Bithyia and walked casually up to one of the guards. "Take us to our lodgings, please."

  "Eh?" The guard looked perplexed and turned to his companion. The other man raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean? You are to wait here for my lord Sparses."

  "Take us to our lodgings," repeated Tomyra, with a gentle smile on her face. "You heard the lord Sparses. He agreed to arrange accommodations for my ladies and me. Please take us there now."

  "He said nothing about that." The guard shook his head and gripped his spear harder. "We were to wait here and guard you. Guard you means preventing you from escaping."

  "What need have we of escape, soldier?" asked Tomyra. "What man of the Serratae would lift a hand to a priestess of the Great Goddess? Sparses said for you to guard us and protect us until his return. With armed men apparently roaming Zarmet, he could be gone some while." She smiled encouragingly at the other man. "I wish merely to rest in some greater comfort than that provided by this place."

  The other guard shuffled his feet. "Yes, lady. But he said nothing..."

  "You will be able to guard us just as well in our lodgings." Tomyra leaned close to the guard and dropped her voice. "To tell the truth I would feel safer with you guarding me in a place further from the prison. If that Greek knew I was here he might seek to avenge himself."

  "I suppose we could," said one of the guards slowly. "But where would we take her?"

  The other man thought for a moment. "The merchant Urax has rooms. They could wait there until we find out what is to happen." The guard looked sourly at the three women. "I suppose these others," he indicated Bithyia and Sarmatia, "Must come too?" He nodded, reaching a decision. "Very well then, lady. You will accompany us."

  The man lifted one of the sputtering torches from the iron stand near the entrance and swept it back and forth to fan the flames before tossing it to his companion. Taking another torch he pulled the entrance hangings back and motioned for the women to follow him out into the night.

  Outside, the guard waited until his companion joined him then pointed across the open space. He shielded his torch from the gusting storm and shouted above the creak of ropes and the flapping of hide tents. "Over there! Keep close and do not become separated." The man turned away, lowering his head into the driving snow.

  Tomyra grabbed his arm. "My horse?" she inquired. "I must have my bags. Where is it?"

  "It will be brought to you. Come." The man pulled his arm free and walked away.

  "No." Tomyra stopped, Bithyia and Sarmatia standing firmly beside her. She waited until the man returned, cursing under his breath. "I have need of my bags. No doubt my companions also need theirs. We will wait here until you fetch our horses."

  "Follow me mistress and I will send for your bags once we have reached your accommodation."

  "I wish for our horses too. I would make certain they are well stabled and fed." Tomyra stared at the guard adamantly. "I will not move from here until you show some respect for me as priestess. Fetch our horses."

  The guard cursed out loud and looked around for some help in the situation. The other man looked down, avoiding his companion's eyes. After a few moments the guard slammed the butt of his spear into the frozen ground in exasperation. "Fetch their horses, Anapses," he grated. "And hurry, before we freeze."

  The other man ran off around the side of the house, disappearing into the swirling blackness. Tomyra waited, her cloak wrapped warmly about her as she studied the armed man in front of her. She noted the growing unease in the man, the way he continually looked toward the lights of the town. Distant shouts came to them fitfully on the gusting storm. The guard's hands clenched his spear and several times he started to lower the point toward them, only to draw it back once more. When his eyes moved across the women, Tomyra was sure they held suspicion.

  "Be ready," Tomyra murmured.

  The horses were almost on them by the time they heard them, the deepening snow muffling the sound of their hooves. The man walked backward awkwardly, holding the reins of the beasts as they pulled and plunged, shying from the wavering torch brand in the man's hand.

  "Help him, Sarmatia," called out Tomyra. As the girl hurried across to grasp the reins, she nudged Bithyia and nodded at
the man Anapses. "Take him," she said flatly.

  In a fluid movement, Tomyra stepped across the intervening space toward the spearman. The man's mouth opened in surprise and his spear started its downward course toward the advancing woman. Tomyra stepped inside the spear, pushing it to one side and thrusting her other arm forward. A glint of metal winked in the light from the torch held in the man's other hand for a moment then was gone as the dagger in Tomyra's hand buried itself in his throat.

  The guard gave a gurgling cry as he staggered back, dropping both spear and brand. His hands scrabbled ineffectually at his sword. Blood gushed out into his beard and spattered the snow. Tomyra closed with the man and wrenched her dagger free before dragging the sharp blade across the man's throat. Blood sprayed into Tomyra's face then the man collapsed into a heap at her feet. She bent and wiped her blade on his clothing, rubbing a handful of clean snow quickly across her face.

  Bithyia called from the darkness behind her. "My lady, it is done."

  Tomyra turned and grasped the reins of her horse as Bithyia and Sarmatia ran up to her. She grasped the mane and swung up onto its back. She waited, calming the animal as it shied at the body on the ground. When the other women were mounted she nodded and smiled grimly. "Now if we can just find our way out of Zarmet."

  Bithyia looked around at the swirling storm, the muffled lights of the town and the flickering motion of hand-held torches moving through the darkness toward them. "I think we had best be leaving, my lady...but which way?"

  "The wind is from the west, so...this way." Tomyra kicked her horse into a reluctant walk into the teeth of the gale, moving across the open space. Rapidly the three women faded into the night, leaving behind them the first flares of alarm as the bodies of the two guards were discovered.

  Sarmatia and Bithyia closed with Tomyra, urging their horses closer together. There was a measure of protection from the storm once they entered the warren of streets leading off the central open meeting place. The wind gusted and swirled, deflected by a building then howling in fury down a narrow lane, lifting the snow and driving it in a stinging blast. The streets were dark and silent, save for the wind and the cracking and flapping of hides and cloth window coverings.