After the Fall(25)
The world spun as Magnus crashed to the ground and rolled, trying to avoid his mount’s flailing hooves. He scrambled to get up as the rest of his group galloped away.
O, ye gods, Gigi! He had to reach her, to make certain she was safe, to protect her with his sword. Victoria, please, I beg you, keep her alive and unharmed!
Magnus whistled for Agrippa, but the beast was nervous, shying away from him. He heard thundering from behind and quickly drew his sword. Five legionnaires were coming straight at him.
Magnus dodged and swung at the first rider, their swords clashing, brutally jarring his arms. As they turned to face him again, Magnus tried to reach Agrippa, but the horse was too far away. The horsemen charged again and he swung his sword, clipping the nearest rider. A great howl of pain was heard as the man’s knee opened up. A blade flashed and Magnus ducked too late, feeling fire in his cheek, blood spraying. He swung once more, then spun, thrusting, opening a gash on the flank of the wounded rider’s horse, causing it to scream and rear, before carrying the man away.
Magnus saw an opportunity and dashed for Agrippa, grabbing the reins and mounting in one bound. He charged the nearest rider, but the man got his shield raised in time and fended off the blow. Spinning Agrippa on his haunches, Magnus crashed into two of the horsemen, unseating one. He slashed first right, to ward off a strike, then left — another howl, and this time the rider fell back, his neck open and gushing blood. Magnus pivoted again, ready to attack, but the remaining three hesitated.
Magnus seized the opportunity. “Victoria strengthens this arm!” he shouted. He charged the soldier on the ground directly, Agrippa trampling him, then brought his sword up, then down in a great arc, opening the shoulder and chest of the next rider.
Sweat streaked Magnus’s face, blinding him. He swiped at his eyes and turned Agrippa toward the last man. He was young and very pale, holding his horse several paces away.
“Will you die with your comrades this day, boy,” Magnus asked, “for the sake of your misbegotten emperor? Think on it — he sends you to ambush a solitary statesman, and your friends to murder women and children who have ever been Rome’s allies. Is that why you joined the legion?”
The boy-soldier licked his lips, his eyes wide with fright, then he kicked his horse and galloped away.
Magnus! In his mind, he heard Gigi’s voice as if from a great distance. Horror gripped his gut, and he raced away, frantic to reach his wife.
• • •
“Alert!” “Alert!”
Startled, Gigi looked up from tending the fire, hearing shouts and thundering hooves. She saw flames erupt near the far edge of camp and heard screams. Warriors — legionnaires — surged into view, some on horseback, most on foot, slaughtering people she knew, people she loved.
A Roman soldier ran toward her, sword raised, and she grasped a burning branch from the flames, swiping at his face. He ducked and she swung again, striking him across the unprotected skin of his neck. His flesh sizzled and the air reeked of burned pork. Roaring, the Roman lunged and knocked the firebrand from her hand, then stumbled on the rocks ringing the fire pit and dropped face-first onto a jagged edge. His body went still as blood flowed, soaking the ground beneath him.
Gigi ran to her tent. Diving inside, she grabbed for the leather scabbard, which held the dagger Magnus had insisted she wear at all times, cursing herself for not heeding his request. Her flute hung beside the blade in its own leather cover, but she didn’t bother to separate the two, flinging both over her head and shoulder.
Panting, she glanced outside. In the distance, she saw two small children lying on the ground and she screamed in defiance. When she got to them, she cried out in agony. Two little girls. Throats slashed. She recognized them as playmates of Berga’s. Oh, God, where is she?
She heard a great cry rise over the din of battle, and turned to see Randegund drive a spear through a Roman’s heart, her silver hair loose and whipping in every direction. She was covered with blood, but Gigi couldn’t tell whether it belonged to her or someone else.
Sounds of anguish and terror filled the air. Intent on reaching the children’s tent, Gigi dashed down an alleyway, but the swirling smoke was so thick, so dark and acrid, she couldn’t see a thing, and stumbled over something. The mutilated body of an elderly man lay grotesquely contorted on the ground, staring out with lifeless eyes. She coughed hard, fighting nausea and the smoke, and then moved on, gagging, groping, feeling her way.
Gigi stopped when she heard some noises — grunts, groans — as horrible as they were familiar. Rage engulfed her, and she thrust her dagger through the wall of the tent, rending it to the ground. Inside, a Roman looked up, startled at the interruption of the rape he was committing on a woman.