The Pillars of Hercules (36 page)

“Let’s get them,” said Eurydice. She and Lugorix sprinted away down the corridor while Matthias opened up on the Carthaginians. He was considerably outnumbered—until Lugorix and Eurydice hit each of the other platforms in rapid succession. The only one who saw it coming was the last Carthaginian, but Matthias shot him even as he was about to hurl a dart at the oncoming Eurydice. Matthias then dropped the rope down to the Athenians. Men wielding the Carthaginans’ weapons began clambering up while Lugorix dashed back round to join them. By the time he got there, those prisoners had already poured down the stairs and were flinging open the room’s main doors from the other side. Lugorix got a quick glimpse of the Carthaginian guards who’d stood watch there—and who were now in the final throes of being butchered—and then that view was obscured by the hordes of cheering Athenians who charged out into the corridors outside. Lugorix, Matthias and Eurydice looked down at the chaos.

“Happy now?” said Eurydice.

“Ecstatic,” said Matthias.

“Let’s go,” said Lugorix.

This time there were no objections. They headed away from the prison-warehouse, past the gardens, back toward the harbor. From the looks of the view out the apertures and windows, most of the Athenians were concentrating on setting fire to the palace. Lugorix was glad he and Matthias hadn’t been appointed the ringleaders of the whole enterprise—and even more glad that Matthias hadn’t started giving orders. Holing up in the citadel of Carthage seemed like a really shitty idea. Getting back to the ship was clearly the way to go.

Though some of the Athenians seemed to realize their rescuers had a plan. More than a hundred prisoners were following them down the covert corridors, past the garden-rooms and down the stairs toward the harbor. Lugorix considered telling them to find their own way out, but he figured Matthias would have a problem with that. Which still left a bit of a dilemma.

“There’s not room for them all on our ship,” he muttered.

“There’s not room for
any
of them,” said Eurydice. “But there are a lot of ships.”

He had a point. The Athenians poured into the room with the murder-holes and set to work with alacrity, dropping ropes down those holes and onto the decks of the ships below. Those ships weren’t taken completely by surprise—they were already on alert thanks to the alarms sounding throughout the palace, and were frantically prepping for action. But they were ready to defend the harbor from a naval threat, not from furious former prisoners suddenly falling onto them from above. A ferocious battle developed, as Carthaginian marines rallied against the rain of Athenians, some of whom were literally leaping down to the decks below. In moments, the scene was one of total pandemonium.

“That’ll buy us some cover,” said Eurydice.

Matthias said nothing—just sprang to the ladder against the wall, began climbing down to the jetty where the
Xerxes
was moored.

Only it wasn’t moored there any longer.

The sluice-gate beneath which the
Xerxes
had snuck in had just been stoved in by a ram—and the Carthaginian warship that had done so was backing water, towering over the three who stood on that jetty looking up at it. It was a pentereme—five banks of oars, two masts, and a horde of marines lining the deck. But none of that was as problematic as the man who was standing on the prow: Perdiccas himself. He was flanked by both Macedonian and Carthaginian soldiers, and he looked more than a little surprised as he caught sight of Eurydice, who he obviously recognized.

“What the fuck are
you
doing here?” he yelled.

“Go fuck yourself!” yelled Eurydice. Lugorix would have thought that someone as smart as she was could have come up with a better insult than that, but then again, she was under pressure. They all were now, as Carthaginian archers crowded alongside Perdiccas and took aim at the three who stood on the jetty beneath them.

“Give yourself up,” said Perdiccas.

Lugorix hefted his axe, looked the Macedonian general straight in the eye.

“Come and get us,” he said.

“Kill the men and bring me the woman,” said Perdiccas. The archers drew back their bows—only to suddenly be knocked to the deck as another Carthaginian warship rammed the pentereme hard amidship. It had emerged from the roofed harbor where the pitched battle was raging between the prisoners. At least one of those ships was now under the control of the Athenians—and that ship now backed water in an attempt to vacate the hole it had just created and flood the holds of the pentereme.

But it was stuck.

Either it had embedded itself too deep or there simply weren’t enough rowers at the oars to provide the necessary leverage. The pentereme was clearly taking on water, though, slowly sliding to the side, putting ever more strain on the ship that had impaled it.

Not that anyone was waiting around for it to sink. Carthaginian marines leapt from their own ship, dashing across the prow of their assailant and pouring onto its deck, where they were met with Athenians eager to finally come to grips with their tormentors. In short order, the decks of both ships became a scene of absolute mayhem.

“This is the part where we make ourselves scarce,” said Eurydice.

There were no objections. She led them away from the ladder, along the stone jetty, away from both the stricken pentereme and the interior harbor where fighting was still taking place on several of the ships. They came out from under the roof and found themselves against the wall of the exterior harbor. Lugorix looked back at the carnage going on across the interior harbor, at the smoke pouring from the palace. More ships were sortieing from the adjacent harbors; these ones seemed to be fully armed and prepped and ready to kill some Athenians. There was no point in sticking around.

“We’re sitting ducks here,” said Matthias.

Eurydice nodded. She led them through an overflow channel—so narrow and low that once again Lugorix had to crawl, this time through water that sloshed around his hands and knees. He had to wriggle a few times to keep going—and when he emerged he was staring along a promontory that cut along the border of the outer harbor.

“Time to sprint,” said Eurydice.

They dashed along the promontory, out into the harbor. The battle that was going on in the interior harbor didn’t seem to be a factor here. Or—more likely—the crews were still in the city. The three fugitives kept on running, though Lugorix could see they only had a few hundred more meters before they ran out of room altogether.

That was when three ships emerged from the harbor, rowing at full speed, bearing down on them.

“Shit,” said Lugorix.

“We’re running out of room,” said Matthias.

“Run faster!” yelled Eurydice.

Matthias and Lugorix did so, just as arrows began to sail past them. The ships were vectoring in on their quarry. Lugorix could hear shouting in Phoenician echoing across the water, getting louder. He didn’t want to die with an arrow in his back—Taranis would never let him past the gates of death. And being speared in the water would be an even more shameful ending. Meaning he’d have to turn and dare them to come to him. That was the only way he was going to get a clean death. Ahead of him, Matthias reached the end of the promontory and dove in. Eurydice followed suit.

Just as the
Xerxes
surfaced.

The ship broke water barely ten yards past the promontory—Matthias had already covered half the distance to it, with Eurydice not that far behind. But just as Lugorix was about to dive in after them—

“Wait!” screamed a voice. He whirled to see two Athenians running along the promontory toward him. “Hurry up!” screamed Lugorix—and dove in. Because he knew that waiting was the one thing that the
Xerxes
wasn’t going to do. He paddled furiously toward the ship as he heard the Athenians leap into the water behind him.

The hatch opened and Barsine appeared on the deck and hurled a rope into the water. Matthias grabbed onto it. The
Xerxes’
engine started up; the ship began powering away from the edge of the promontory, leaving Lugorix swimming frantically to catch up. But it was too late, the boat was drawing away. Matthias had already reached the ship; Eurydice was clambering up the rope. Barsine looked out toward Lugorix—raised a strange-looking device with a hook set into it. There was a loud twang!—the hook came shooting straight toward Lugorix, just missing his head and splashing into the water.

It was only then that Lugorix noticed the rope that had been trailing behind it. It was out of his reach, but one of the Athenians grabbed onto it, seizing it with both hands. Lugorix didn’t hesitate; he grabbed onto that Athenian’s boot, and the second Athenian grabbed onto
his
—and then all three men were jerked forward, pulled through the water while Matthias and Barsine worked to haul in the rope. The
Xerxes
was steadily outpacing the pursuing Carthaginian triremes, but now siege-engines atop the harbor wall opened fire. Huge rocks sailed through the air and crashed into the water uncomfortably close to the
Xerxes
. Waves slapped against Lugorix’s face—he almost lost his grip but locked his legs around the rope for additional purchase and hung on as best he could. He’d almost reached the
Xerxes
now, but the rope stretched over the engine and it wasn’t clear how he was going to climb over it. But then the ship turned, and suddenly he was being hauled in toward its side. He put his feet out to brace himself, hit the side, and then walked himself up, following the first Athenian. Moments later, all three men were spluttering onto the deck.

“Never doubted you,” said Barsine.

“Get below,” said Eurydice’s voice from the hatch.

The ship started to dive.

Chapter Fifteen

T
he two Athenians were marines. Their names were Xanthippus and Diocles. Xanthippus was a grizzled old veteran; Diocles a young soldier who had never seen combat. Both men were utterly exhausted—they sat on the floor of the
Xerxes’
pilot-room, water dripping off them. The expression on their faces was that of men who refused to accept their surroundings. Lugorix was tempted to feel sorry for them—but then he recollected they might be the only Athenians who had survived the carnage going on back at Carthage. So maybe they were actually the fortunate ones.

All the more so as no one had asked them to any rowing. Lugorix and Matthias had paddled the ship beneath the surface for more than an hour until they’d put Carthage well behind them. Finally Barsine surfaced the
Xerxes
and switched the engines on, whereupon she sent Matthias up top. It was a little frustrating, because Lugorix was burning with questions he couldn’t ask—there seemed to be a tacit understanding among everyone that they wouldn’t discuss what they’d seen in the Library in front of the Athenians. It was only now that they’d put Carthage behind them that Barsine turned to the two men.

“Were you part of the garrison of Carthage?” she asked.

“No,” said Xanthippus. “We were part of the fleet that sailed from Syracuse.”

Eurydice sat down on the floor opposite them. “What went wrong?”

“I don’t know,” said Xanthippus.

“Everything,” said Diocles. “That’s what went wrong. Everything.” He seemed about to continue but then he shook his head and shut up as though someone had clamped his jaws shut.

“You need to tell me,” said Eurydice gently.

“I can’t,” said Diocles.

“I can,” said Xanthippus. He took a deep breath. “I’ve sailed from one end of the Empire to the other thrice over, and I’ve spent as much time on ships as I have on land. But I’ve never seen a storm like the one that hit us when we were half a day from Carthage. The sky turned purple and red and the rain came down so hard it swept men into the sea. There was a huge wave; it capsized all the ships and horse-transports. Horses swimming for their lives and going under, making a noise I never want to hear again…lightning tore off our masts and we lost contact with the rest of the fleet. And then there was a huge wave. Our ship foundered shortly thereafter. We clung to driftwood, somehow ended up on the African coast.”

“And then the Carthagianians found us,” said Diocles.

“After all we’d been through, I was thanking the gods for it,” said Xanthippus. “We’ve heard what Berbers can do to a man. But sometimes the ones who call themselves civilized are worse than any barbarian.”

Lugorix wasn’t sure about that, but he said nothing. For a long while, no one did. Finally—

“Where are you taking us anyway?” asked Xanthippus.

“We’re going west,” said Barsine. “Through the Pillars of Hercules.”

“You must be joking.”

“Do you hear me laughing?”

“You should be, because you can’t go that way.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll fall off the edge of the world. There’s nothing beyond there save Abyss.”

“I have reason to disagree.”

Xanthippus looked at them like they were all totally crazy. Lugorix wasn’t sure he was wrong. Xanthippus met his eyes, then shook his head. “What do you think the Pillars are, anyway?” he asked.

“You tell me,” said Barsine.

“They’re the two monsters that Hercules battled. Scylla and Charbydis, right?”

“I think you might have your myths mixed up.”

“I don’t care. They’re monsters, and we’re not going near them. Besides, haven’t you heard about what’s out
past
those Pillars?” It seemed to Lugorix that if the Pillars really
were
monsters, no one would get past them anyway, but Xanthippus wasn’t waiting for an answer. He just kept going: “No one’s gotten more than three days west and returned to tell the tale. There’s something out there and it’s not pretty! There’s talk of whirlpools and monsters and boiling seas and—”

“Damn right,” said Diocles. “You need to turn around right now.”

“We can’t do that.”

“Well, we can’t go on,” said Xanthippus.

“We
won’t
go on,” said Diocles.

There was a long silence. Finally—