now.
The next amphora shattered on the first bounce and I easily leaped over the shards.
One left.
I swore a sheep sacrifice to Zeus, if only the last amphora shattered.
Araxes stood with bent knees to compensate for the swaying cart. He threw.
The amphora bounced straight at me. I canceled the sacrifice.
When the amphora filled my vision, I threw myself at it, under it, rolling in the dirt. The hard clay whistled over my head.
When I came back up Araxes had returned to the driver’s seat, his back to me. He must’ve thought the amphora had brought me down.
I sprinted to the tail end, hauled myself up. The platform was smooth and varnished dark from years of fish oil.
Araxes looked back in surprise. He dropped the reins and pulled out his knife. The blade was still red from the shoulder of the wounded guard.
The driverless cart slammed into the right wall. We both fell over and I scrabbled for a hold to stop being thrown off.
The cart veered wildly to smash into the opposite wall. The metal rims of the wheels squealed against the wood and made my teeth hurt.
The whole contraption settled and picked up speed. We’d reached a steep descent.
We picked ourselves up off the slippery, bouncing surface. The first of us to fall would get a knife in his back.
He tried to stab me. I blocked his forearm with my left, and then did something you should never do: I threw down my knife.
No, I wasn’t surrendering; I’d aimed at his foot.
I missed cleanly. The knife quivered point first in the wooden tray. But the throw forced him to dance, and as he did, I grabbed the scroll case from beneath his chiton.
“Thanks a lot, Araxes. See you!”
Mission accomplished. I jumped off the back and—
Bang . My chin hit the floor and rattled my teeth. He’d pulled my feet out from under me.
The scroll case rolled from my hand. Araxes stamped on it as it skidded past.
I snatched the hilt of my knife and rose. I kicked at the case, hoping to send it over the side. Araxes blocked my kick, then tried to drag the case to him.
I was having none of that. I stamped on the case myself and dragged it back to center. It was like playing a boys’ ball game in the street, with the added distraction of knives on a bouncing, slippery surface.
We’d rushed downhill at great speed. Over my enemy’s shoulder I saw the closed gates at the Piraeus end of the road and the two guards who defended them.
With a sinking feeling, I realized nobody had briefed those guards. It never occurred to me Araxes would get this far.
Araxes saw it too. He grabbed the whip and deliberately cracked it against the horse’s wound, goading the already panicking animal into going faster.
The guards held their spears with points facing us and ends dug into the earth. I could hear one of them shouting, “Halt! I order you to halt!”
He didn’t have a hope in Hades.
Araxes said, “Good luck.” Then he jumped. His body slammed into the Long Wall and disappeared to the rear as the cart sped onwards.
I wanted to pick up the scroll case. But if I did, I would die on the cart. I turned and jumped.
Hitting the wall pushed the air out of my lungs. I hooked my arms over the top to stop from falling under the wheels. Splinters embedded in the flesh of my forearms. I tried to scream but there was no air.
The horse ran headlong into the gates and squealed, a terrible, sickening sound.
I heard cracking, whether wood or bones I don’t know. One guard went down. His body jerked as a wheel drove over him. Then the other. He lay still.
The cart left the ground. It spun in the air, smashed into the gates. They cracked and flew outward. Men on the other side screamed.
Araxes had bounced off the wall and landed on a roll. He picked himself up and waded through the bloodied wreck of horse, cart, and men.
The scroll case had been thrown clear. It lay in plain sight on the other side of the ruined gates. Araxes picked it up as he stumbled past.
I cursed and let go of
The next amphora shattered on the first bounce and I easily leaped over the shards.
One left.
I swore a sheep sacrifice to Zeus, if only the last amphora shattered.
Araxes stood with bent knees to compensate for the swaying cart. He threw.
The amphora bounced straight at me. I canceled the sacrifice.
When the amphora filled my vision, I threw myself at it, under it, rolling in the dirt. The hard clay whistled over my head.
When I came back up Araxes had returned to the driver’s seat, his back to me. He must’ve thought the amphora had brought me down.
I sprinted to the tail end, hauled myself up. The platform was smooth and varnished dark from years of fish oil.
Araxes looked back in surprise. He dropped the reins and pulled out his knife. The blade was still red from the shoulder of the wounded guard.
The driverless cart slammed into the right wall. We both fell over and I scrabbled for a hold to stop being thrown off.
The cart veered wildly to smash into the opposite wall. The metal rims of the wheels squealed against the wood and made my teeth hurt.
The whole contraption settled and picked up speed. We’d reached a steep descent.
We picked ourselves up off the slippery, bouncing surface. The first of us to fall would get a knife in his back.
He tried to stab me. I blocked his forearm with my left, and then did something you should never do: I threw down my knife.
No, I wasn’t surrendering; I’d aimed at his foot.
I missed cleanly. The knife quivered point first in the wooden tray. But the throw forced him to dance, and as he did, I grabbed the scroll case from beneath his chiton.
“Thanks a lot, Araxes. See you!”
Mission accomplished. I jumped off the back and—
Bang . My chin hit the floor and rattled my teeth. He’d pulled my feet out from under me.
The scroll case rolled from my hand. Araxes stamped on it as it skidded past.
I snatched the hilt of my knife and rose. I kicked at the case, hoping to send it over the side. Araxes blocked my kick, then tried to drag the case to him.
I was having none of that. I stamped on the case myself and dragged it back to center. It was like playing a boys’ ball game in the street, with the added distraction of knives on a bouncing, slippery surface.
We’d rushed downhill at great speed. Over my enemy’s shoulder I saw the closed gates at the Piraeus end of the road and the two guards who defended them.
With a sinking feeling, I realized nobody had briefed those guards. It never occurred to me Araxes would get this far.
Araxes saw it too. He grabbed the whip and deliberately cracked it against the horse’s wound, goading the already panicking animal into going faster.
The guards held their spears with points facing us and ends dug into the earth. I could hear one of them shouting, “Halt! I order you to halt!”
He didn’t have a hope in Hades.
Araxes said, “Good luck.” Then he jumped. His body slammed into the Long Wall and disappeared to the rear as the cart sped onwards.
I wanted to pick up the scroll case. But if I did, I would die on the cart. I turned and jumped.
Hitting the wall pushed the air out of my lungs. I hooked my arms over the top to stop from falling under the wheels. Splinters embedded in the flesh of my forearms. I tried to scream but there was no air.
The horse ran headlong into the gates and squealed, a terrible, sickening sound.
I heard cracking, whether wood or bones I don’t know. One guard went down. His body jerked as a wheel drove over him. Then the other. He lay still.
The cart left the ground. It spun in the air, smashed into the gates. They cracked and flew outward. Men on the other side screamed.
Araxes had bounced off the wall and landed on a roll. He picked himself up and waded through the bloodied wreck of horse, cart, and men.
The scroll case had been thrown clear. It lay in plain sight on the other side of the ruined gates. Araxes picked it up as he stumbled past.
I cursed and let go of
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