sleeve and, reaching down, he swept Azruel up into his arms. The little boy squealed with delight, pulling at his father's beard and snuggling up against his broad chest.
"They said you were dead, but I didn't believe them!" Drasila whispered, her voice choking with tears.
"How did you escape?" Hamilcar asked, even as he anxiously looked back at the clamoring mob sweeping behind him toward the beach.
"It was Elazar. The day word came of the defeat he managed to sneak us out of the palace and into hiding. We just missed you the last time you were here. We almost didn't get out this time. The Merki have started the Choosing."
So the bastards were going to feed off Cartha flesh anyhow. He had expected it all along: The exemption for everyone he knew was conditional on defeating the Rus.
In a way he should be cursing Keane, Marcus, all of them, for if only they had submitted and been beaten none of this would now be happening. And yet he could not, for as Keane had said to him, if the situation had been reversed would he not have fought as well? The only real enemy was the Merki.
"My lord, we best get moving."
Hamilcar looked back at Elazar, who stood anxiously behind him.
"It got completely out of control this time—there were thousands of people on the road here. The Merki have to know."
Hamilcar nodded, and with Arzeul still in his arms he bent over, picking up his musket. With Drisila clinging to his side he started to press his way back through the crowd. He could sense a rising edge of panic to the mob.
"How many boats did you bring?" Elazar asked, keeping his voice low.
"Forty-one."
"It's not enough."
"I can see that," Hamilcar replied sharply. He tried to push his way through the crowd but saw that it was useless. Rank held no advantages here in the dark, as thousands pushed into the water, struggling to reach the boats that were now drifting in out of the darkness.
As each ship came in it was surrounded, people clinging to the sides, jamming up against the oars, threatening in more than one case to simply roll the galley over.
And then above the clamor of the mob he heard the sound which he dreaded the most, the high clarion call of a Merki nargas, war trumpet of the Horde.
A momentary hush came over the crowd, as if disbelieving that death had suddenly called out its warning.
The nargas sounded again, echoing across the beach, counterpointed by dozens more, sounding their call in a vast ring about the village.
"The Merki!" It was a shriek of terror, picked up in an instant by thousands of voices.
Helpless, Hamilcar felt as if he would be borne under by the crush, as by the thousands the panic-stricken crowd surged down to the water.
A ripple of explosions flashed in a vast ring. Seconds later the solid shot and exploding shell smashed into the mob, foaming the water and cutting bloody furrows through the crowds.
"Hamilcar!"
His ship was so maddeningly close, with Githra, the ship's captain, standing atop the prow, cupping his hands and screaming for his leader. The ship was less than a score of paces away, yet hundreds were packed between him and safety.
"Hang on to me!" Hamilcar screamed, as he felt Drisila's hand slipping from his. He tried to turn back to her. She looked at him, eyes wide with panic, and as if in a nightmare he felt his grasp upon her slip away.
"Save Azreul!" she screamed. An obese woman pushed between them, desperate to claw her way through. With his now free hand Hamilcar struck her, trying to push her quivering form aside. Her eyes mad with fear she clawed back, trying to fight past him to the water.
"Drisila!"
The mob surged, picking Hamilcar off his feet. The fat woman fell, shrieking in anguish. More and yet more tripped over her body, climbing over her and kicking her into the gravel.
Drisila was gone.
"Mama!" Azreul shrieked, trying to claw his way out of Hamilcar's arms. Hamilcar clutched the boy tightly, raising the child above the crush while Azreul wailed for
"They said you were dead, but I didn't believe them!" Drasila whispered, her voice choking with tears.
"How did you escape?" Hamilcar asked, even as he anxiously looked back at the clamoring mob sweeping behind him toward the beach.
"It was Elazar. The day word came of the defeat he managed to sneak us out of the palace and into hiding. We just missed you the last time you were here. We almost didn't get out this time. The Merki have started the Choosing."
So the bastards were going to feed off Cartha flesh anyhow. He had expected it all along: The exemption for everyone he knew was conditional on defeating the Rus.
In a way he should be cursing Keane, Marcus, all of them, for if only they had submitted and been beaten none of this would now be happening. And yet he could not, for as Keane had said to him, if the situation had been reversed would he not have fought as well? The only real enemy was the Merki.
"My lord, we best get moving."
Hamilcar looked back at Elazar, who stood anxiously behind him.
"It got completely out of control this time—there were thousands of people on the road here. The Merki have to know."
Hamilcar nodded, and with Arzeul still in his arms he bent over, picking up his musket. With Drisila clinging to his side he started to press his way back through the crowd. He could sense a rising edge of panic to the mob.
"How many boats did you bring?" Elazar asked, keeping his voice low.
"Forty-one."
"It's not enough."
"I can see that," Hamilcar replied sharply. He tried to push his way through the crowd but saw that it was useless. Rank held no advantages here in the dark, as thousands pushed into the water, struggling to reach the boats that were now drifting in out of the darkness.
As each ship came in it was surrounded, people clinging to the sides, jamming up against the oars, threatening in more than one case to simply roll the galley over.
And then above the clamor of the mob he heard the sound which he dreaded the most, the high clarion call of a Merki nargas, war trumpet of the Horde.
A momentary hush came over the crowd, as if disbelieving that death had suddenly called out its warning.
The nargas sounded again, echoing across the beach, counterpointed by dozens more, sounding their call in a vast ring about the village.
"The Merki!" It was a shriek of terror, picked up in an instant by thousands of voices.
Helpless, Hamilcar felt as if he would be borne under by the crush, as by the thousands the panic-stricken crowd surged down to the water.
A ripple of explosions flashed in a vast ring. Seconds later the solid shot and exploding shell smashed into the mob, foaming the water and cutting bloody furrows through the crowds.
"Hamilcar!"
His ship was so maddeningly close, with Githra, the ship's captain, standing atop the prow, cupping his hands and screaming for his leader. The ship was less than a score of paces away, yet hundreds were packed between him and safety.
"Hang on to me!" Hamilcar screamed, as he felt Drisila's hand slipping from his. He tried to turn back to her. She looked at him, eyes wide with panic, and as if in a nightmare he felt his grasp upon her slip away.
"Save Azreul!" she screamed. An obese woman pushed between them, desperate to claw her way through. With his now free hand Hamilcar struck her, trying to push her quivering form aside. Her eyes mad with fear she clawed back, trying to fight past him to the water.
"Drisila!"
The mob surged, picking Hamilcar off his feet. The fat woman fell, shrieking in anguish. More and yet more tripped over her body, climbing over her and kicking her into the gravel.
Drisila was gone.
"Mama!" Azreul shrieked, trying to claw his way out of Hamilcar's arms. Hamilcar clutched the boy tightly, raising the child above the crush while Azreul wailed for
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