The Triumphant (The Valiant #3)(54)

“Just get to the wagons,” I said, and hurried to round up the others.

The answer to Antonia’s question was that anyone traveling north up the Via Clodia from Rome would have seen the smoke from the Ludus Achillea from a good long distance. Anyone looking for us would have been watching the road going south. When we didn’t pass that way, it would have been easy to deduce that our path was either west to Cosa or overland to the east costal port of Ancona on the Mare Adriaticum. The road east was harder going and would have slowed us down, but the rugged terrain also would have offered more places to hide from pursuit. I wondered, in that moment, if maybe we shouldn’t have gone that way. Maybe I’d missed a trick. Maybe when Charon had said Cosa, I should have argued . . .

And then I remembered what Cai and I had talked about only a few hours earlier. It hadn’t been my decision alone to make. It had been mine and Sorcha’s and, well, everyone’s, really. Cleopatra’s most of all. And she trusted me. They all did. Maybe it was time I started trusting myself . . .

No, I thought. Maybe it’s time you started trusting others.

My friends. My sisters and comrades.

We were better than this—than them. Better than Aquila’s thugs and traitors and fanatics. We were the queen of Aegypt’s gladiatrix guard, and we would defend her with our honor and our lives.

From where he was taking care of the animals with Acheron and Quint, Cai saw me hurrying and loped over to meet me. “Fallon?” he called.

“Riders,” I answered back.

He glanced behind me, into the far distance down the road, and his mouth set in a hard line. Then he spun on his heel and headed back toward the horses. “Get the wagons hitched back up,” he called to Quint as he went. “On the double.”

“What’s going on?” Acheron asked as I ran toward my own mount.

“Company’s coming,” I said over my shoulder, not stopping. “Fast.”

Elka and Ajani didn’t even bother to ask when I told them to pack up. Neither did Cleopatra. Sennefer just sighed gustily and began gathering up the repast his mistress had just laid out. It took us very little time to get everyone ready and moving again.

I reached my horse and tightened the girth strap on his saddle again. He whinnied at me in protest, and I apologized for the brevity of the break. Then I vaulted into the saddle, shortening the reins until he danced in a half circle and pawed impatiently at the ground. The rest of the company was back aboard the wagons and ready to go, and they all looked to me for orders. I swallowed my uncertainly, raising my voice so they could all hear.

“Whatever happens, no stopping. No slowing,” I said. I took a deep breath in before I finished. “No going back for the fallen.”

Sitting beside Charon in the lead wagon, Sorcha gave me a firm nod. Elka raised an eyebrow at me but kept silent. She knew as well as I did that if we lost anyone on that road, then we’d lose them for good.

The road was wide enough at that point that those of us who were mounted on horseback could still ride flanking the three wagons. So Hestia and Acheron took up outrider positions on the left flank of the caravan, while Quint and I took up corresponding positions on the right. Cai rode lead, far enough out to warn of any danger up ahead. It wasn’t long before we came to a bend in the road that led us into a twisty, shallow valley. The hills closed in, hiding us from the sight of our pursuers. But it also hid our pursuers from us. For a tense few miles, I had no idea if they were still following or how fast. But soon enough, the hills receded and the Roman road unwound itself again, cutting arrow-straight across the middle of a landscape that was shaped almost like a bowl—like a vast meadow cradled in a ring of hills.

It reminded me of an arena.

One carved from the land by the gods themselves.

As we rode, I kept glancing over my shoulder. It wasn’t long before the first of the riders emerged from the valley bend behind us. Closer than they had been. Much closer. Dressed in the signature black cloaks and armor of Pontius Aquila’s Dis acolytes, and riding flat out.

“They’ve picked up speed,” I called to Cai, who’d dropped back to ride beside me. “They’ll overtake us before we get to the next mile marker.”

“Let’s move!” He put his heels to his mount and gave the horse his head.

Cai thundered ahead of the caravan, and I signaled to Charon as I rode up beside the lead cart. He lashed the horses, urging them on to greater speed. Damya and Gratia, driving the other two wagons, followed his lead. But with three wagons loaded down with passengers and gear, we were never going to outrun our pursuers. When they got close enough, the arrows began to fly.

Tanis . . .

The Ludus Achillea’s wayward archer. From galloping horseback, she couldn’t aim with any great accuracy, but Tanis could still manage to keep Ajani and Elka pinned down, unable to return much fire as the first of their riders to reach us pounded up to bracket the rear wagon. I was far enough out that I saw it all as one of them reached for the side to pull himself aboard. Kronos lunged to grapple with the man, but the wagon was bucking all over the road and the rider managed to grab Kronos by the wrists. He almost pulled him right off the back of the cart, but Ajani lurched to her feet and smashed the rider over the head with the short curved bow she carried, wielding it like a club.

The man tumbled instantly from the back of his horse, dead or unconscious, and Ajani’s bow was broken in two. In that moment, another rider grabbed hold of Vorya. He clutched at her tunic as Vorya raised her sword to strike, but she couldn’t get any solid footing in the lurching wagon. As a wheel hit a rut, she fell forward, and there was nothing to stop her . . .