Thomas Harlan - The Gate of fire

Maxian looked up. At the far, distant end of the silver cord, he saw, for a split second, the face of his brother.

Galen's eyes were open, staring back at him out of a waxy, ashen face.

You murder me, came the thought, speeding across the leagues.

Maxian looked down and saw that the silver cord that ran from the heart of the raiment was the soul of his brother. He flinched away, his will lost for a brief instant.

– |The homunculus howled in joy, its torso slick with the blood of the dead, its claws raising high another praetorian. Entrails spilled from the man's stomach, torn open by a single raking blow. Soldiers surged around it, raining blows from axes, spears, and swords. The thing's dead flesh was hacked and torn, with bright white bones peeking out and half its face carved away. But still it whirled, spilling blood and crushing the faces of its enemies. Manic energy filled it, and shattered flesh reknit itself, bone crawled back to bone. The skin of the creature drank the blood that filled the air.

At the back of the room, Nikos scrambled away, seeing death itself walking in the enclosed space. Jusuf dragged him through the doorway into the hall. The house groaned around him, and tiles and broken timbers clattered from the ceiling.

Khiron closed on the last of the soldiers, a burly youth with a long, iron-headed spear. The man, blinded with fear, charged, screaming in defiance. Khiron turned his body into the blow, catching the point of the spear with his chest. The iron head, tapered and sharp, ground through bone and muscle, scraping across his rib cage. Khiron laughed, his voice ringing from the domed roof, and clawed forward along the shaft. The soldier barely had time to gasp in pain as an iron-tipped thumb punched through his eye socket. Khiron shook its long, lean head in delight and twisted. The man's head tore free from his spine and neck with a sickening pop, and the body fell, twitching spasmodically, to the floor. Khiron bit into the base of the jaw, feeling the flesh part under its white teeth, and tore away the top of the skull with its other hand.

Nikos and Jusuf stumbled away from the dining chamber, hearing only a little of the gelatinous slurping sound that filled the room. Stone and tile jumped under their feet, shaken by some cataclysm in the earth. The Khazar scooped up his friend and ran, his legs pumping furiously. Nikos tried to protest, but Jusuf just kept running. The door to the garden suddenly appeared out of the murk.

– |The matrices of forms that Maxian had raised shattered in his moment of inattention. The black tide of the Oath stormed in, smashing through the outer wards that ringed the buried room. The Persians and Nabateans wailed in torment and died within a grain, their flesh burned from their bones, souls consumed by the torrent of corruption that flooded into the chamber. Maxian staggered up, whirling around to see the wave of power lash against the innermost shields.

The tide broke, surging up around the final barrier like a sea of acid, but Maxian cried out in horror.

The ward around Krista shattered, crumpling like an eggshell under the foot of an elephant, and she cried out in terrible pain as she was crushed into the wall at her back. Pain burned at her, etching her bones, and she blacked out, falling into a heap on the floor.

The Prince's eyes darkened, and he raised his hand. Words came to his mind, unbidden, and the earth shook. The Shield of Athena that had held to the last suddenly flared bright and expanded, driving back the sea of corruption that surged around him. The shield slid over Krista's body and the Prince knelt, scooping her up in his arms. At his back, Alexandros crawled forward, dragging the still form of the old Roman. The body of the Persian lay behind, unconscious within its triangular ward.

Maxian looked down at the girl in his arms, seeing the deep bruises on the side of her face, feeling the shattered ribs and punctured lung in her chest. Her breathing was thready and bubbled with the sound of liquid spilling into her throat.

"I am a fool," the Prince whispered, seeing his love dying in his arms. He raised his head.

– |Nikos' skull rapped hard against the side of a log, drawing a weak curse from him, and then Jusuf pushed him over the lip of the fallen tree. He fell on his broken arm, and the whole world suddenly burst into pain and an agonizing throbbing light. The Khazar rolled over the log right behind him, landing on the Illyrian's legs.

"Mars! Get off me!" Nikos barely had the strength to curse, but Jusuf managed to crawl away.

Nikos could only see the log in front of him, but suddenly the whole sky lit up with a blue-white light. Instants later a vast booming sound flattened the two men into the mud, and then a rush of flame and ruddy red light filled the world. The villa in the swale below them shattered, granite pillars weakened by the curse shattering like reeds, long tile roofs flying up in the air on a billowing pillar of flame. Walls tumbled down, crushed by the blast of fire, and the dead trees in the garden and on the surrounding hillsides burst alight.

Jusuf and Nikos burrowed deeper, trying to get away from the stunning noise.

Something rose from the fire, a long dark shape with wings of iron. It twisted, its scales shimmering in the heat haze, and bunched its mighty limbs under it. There was a shriek like a dying city and it sprang away into the black clouds. Thunder cracked in its passage, and a great hiss of steam rose as rain continued to pour down on the burning ruins of the villa.

On the hillside, Jusuf raised his head, blinking mud and water from his eyes. Something rushed away overhead, high in the air, but he could not make out what it was. He spit mud and a broken tooth from his mouth. He rolled over, his mouth open in a cry of pain. Something had slashed his back open. Rain sluiced down over him, washing the mud from his face.

Nikos, still stunned by the blast, and shocky with the pain of his shattered arm, tried to roll over. He was too weak. Mud slopped around his face, and he felt the hillside quiver.

"Jusuf?" His voice was so weak, he could barely recognize it.

The Khazar turned, his dark eyes slitted against the rain. Nikos gestured weakly at the hill above them. Jusuf looked up, seeing nothing but fire, dark trees, and an ebon sky. Then he squinted again; the trees were swaying, toppling over even as they burned fiercely. A haze of smoke and steam billowed up into the sky, joining with the clouds.

As he watched, a tree, its crown burning merrily, slid sideways and crashed into one of its fellows. Then Jusuf felt the quiver under his feet and heard the rumbling of boulders grinding under the earth. The entire slope above them, loosened by rain and the eroding influence of the Oath, had separated. The Khazar looked around wildly, seeing the burning villa suddenly rush toward them. He cursed, a dreadful oath of his people.

Thira

"This is Herakles," Thyatis said with a grin. "He is the only man allowed on Thira, for he serves the Matron of the Island, and the Goddess."

Shirin smiled back and ran a slim hand along the curving prow of the ship. It was a single banked galley, no more than forty feet long, with sleek flanks and a wickedly sinuous line. Two deep steering oars were slung at the back, and it was built low to the water. The flanks were Miletian oak, carefully carved and bent to form the hull. A black varnish covered the ship, both the planking and the seating on the low rowing benches. Thyatis swung up onto the railing and dropped inside. The ship trembled, even at her weight. Shirin followed, her sandals-calfskin with long, thin lacings that ran up to just under her knee-squeaking on the deck. The whole vessel breathed speed and power.