Buried in the Sky (Pantheon, #0)
Page 8
Imharak almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Ever since he could remember, those tools had been like appendages to him. To both of them. He watched Gaius frantically shoving things into a sack and repeated himself. “What the hell is going on?”
Gaius looked up, seeing the confusion on his apprentice’s face. Some explanation was necessary.
“There are people here,” he said. “And they are going to kill us unless we leave right now.”
Imharak felt a sudden pang of dread in the pit of his stomach, and his face must have shown it, because right then, Gaius handed him a sack and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. We just have to move.”
Within a minute, they were moving.
Out the back door and down the rutted dirt road that ran behind their row of buildings. Gaius went first, then Imharak, both with packs bouncing on their shoulders. Ducking as they ran to keep their heads below the wall of unhewn stone that separated them from the fields. Merlin keeping pace alongside them.
As they came to a break in the wall where the carts and draught animals passed through, Gaius slowed and stopped. He peered around the edge.
“Caelos be damned...” he whispered, and pulled back behind the wall. He tried to think. Imharak moved past him and snuck a glance through the gap himself. He saw what his master was worried about and felt his blood run cold.
A dozen men walking across the bare, turned field in a row. Silhouettes of swords and spears and axes that spoke of ignoble intentions and promised blood. Moonlight glinting off the blades. Faces cast in shadow. Breath rising in the air like a wall of fog before them. An unholy engine of war set to consume all in its path and leave behind only bodies. Only bones.
If only the harvest came a little later in the year, Imharak thought, the invaders would be mired in tall stalks of wheat. True, it would have made them more difficult to see, but at least he and Gaius would have been able to cross the gap in the wall and make good their escape. As it was, with the fields bare and the moon bright, they might as well be holding torches for how quickly they’d be spotted.
The blacksmith and his apprentice each carried short swords and they knew how to use them. Gaius had forged the blades himself and began lessons with the boy at an early age, when his magic began to draw the unwanted attention of their neighbours.
Even still, they were two men against fifty. And that was only the ones they could see. All around them, the trees stood tall and dark, concealing many things, many secrets. Who knew how many eyes were out there, watching?
Gaius tapped Imharak on the shoulder and pointed to the alleyway directly across from them, running between the tavern and the farrier. They darted across the road and down the alley.
As they neared the main road and the entrance to the tavern, the sounds of evening merriment spilled out into the night. Talking and laughter and cups clinking together. A fire roaring, music playing.
They ignored it.
They did not go inside to warn the men, most of whom had either tried to kill the boy or agreed with those that did. Men who would soon be scrambling desperately for their weapons and then dead.
Coming to the end of the alleyway, Gaius peeked around the corner of the tavern and saw Crassus lying dead in the street.
A shadowy figure was crouched over him, lifting his head and running a blade over the farmer’s skull, peeling off a bloody flap of skin by the hair.
Gaius froze.
It wasn’t the brutality of the act that stopped him, but the perpetrator.
It wasn’t who he expected...
Gaius pushed it from his mind. It didn’t matter now. All he had to focus on was getting out, getting clear. The scalper’s back was turned, so he grabbed Imharak and together they dashed across the street, passing from shadow to moonlight to shadow again.
As they came into the alley on the opposite side, Gaius looked back to make sure they were safe. The scalper was moving, but not towards them. He was headed to a house where Gaius knew for a fact there were three sleeping children, the oldest of which wasn’t seven years old. The scalper had his knife drawn and vanished into the shadow like a wraith.
Gaius turned back to the boy and his dog. “Run,” he said.
And they ran.
At the other end of the alley was a sprawl of pens where animals were kept. Beyond that, the land rose sharply into a rocky bluff that Gaius hoped the intruders wouldn’t think to move in from. They ducked low as they ran between the fences, causing goats and oxen to stir. Some, they noticed, were already awake, having sensed the impending danger.
Reaching the foot of the bluff, Gaius located a path that was hidden behind some long grass and shrubs. It was a path known to the townsfolk, but not to outsiders, and not readily visible unless one knew what they were looking for.
They picked their way up the slope, Merlin bounding along from rock to rock behind them and seemingly frustrated by their slow pace. He was sure-footed as a mountain goat, but Gaius and Imharak were less certain in their movements. The loose dirt fell away beneath their hands and feet, weakened by a recent deluge. At one point, Gaius almost lost his footing entirely, but Imharak held up a hand to steady him, and they pressed on.
They hauled themselves onto level ground and kept moving into the cover of the bush. Only Imharak looked back, and only for a moment.
But it was long enough to see the first of the flames spreading to the roofs of houses.
Long enough to hear the first of the women start to scream.
Then he was gone.
THE FIRE AND THE FORGE is out now.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jack Geurts is the author of The New Old Testament, a re-imagining of the Bible as told by the drunk guy at the party. He lives on coffee and podcasts, and likes to believe that if there is a God, he’s got a sense of humour.
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ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
Available for individual purchase via the links below, or save over 60% by getting everything in one donation tier at Patreon.
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THE NEW OLD TESTAMENT:
Genesis
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PANTHEON SERIES:
To Kill a King
The Fire and the Forge
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OTHER BOOKS:
Jasper Flint and the Dinosaur Saddle
Mercy Killing
Vendetta
© 2018 Jack Geurts. All rights reserved.