The Pillars of Hercules (35 page)

But that was when Lugorix stepped in, wielding Skullseeker like a cleaver, hacking and chopping away. He felt his blade bite deep into flesh; he ground it in further, jumping into the air to avoid a clawed paw that swiped suddenly at his hamstrings. Then he leapt backward and let the axe fall like an executioner’s blade, trying to stay out of range of those claws. There was an anguished howl and the creature began convulsing, its blood spurting everywhere. Yet it was still struggling out from under the shelf. Until Lugorix stepped forward and chopped its head off. The animal shuddered and went still while the head rolled over to stop at Eurydice’s feet. She hadn’t moved the whole time.

“Interesting,” she said, looking down at the face glaring up at her. “A tiger.”

“A what?” said Lugorix, looking around in case there was another one on its way.

“Tiger. A large cat from the jungles of India, which is the furthest east that Alexander’s scouts got—”

“Stow the geography lesson,” said Matthias. “Are there any more of these damned things?”

“Only one way to find out,” said Eurydice.

So they waited, in that room with the scattered scrolls and the dead beast. They waited and waited… until finally Lugorix couldn’t take it anymore.

“This is not the warrior’s way,” he said. “We need to go.”

“We should stay,” said Matthias.

“Until what?” asked Lugorix. “Morning? We need to go. Now.”

And with that, he hefted his axe and set off into the darkness. His two companions hesitated a moment, and then followed him. They had no choice: splitting up was crazy, and—Eurydice’s skills notwithstanding—Lugorix was the only one of the three that a large cat was going to have to reckon with.

But there were no more cats. Just more rooms, which Eurydice continued to navigate through. All those glyphs and runes and markings were making Lugorix more nervous than any tiger. Finally they stopped in one of the rooms. Eurydice looked around.

“This is the one,” she said.

It looked like a normal room, but Eurydice wasn’t buying it. She began sweeping scrolls off one of the shelves until the outlines of another door became visible—though really it was more of a hatch. She knocked on it in a curious staccato pattern, and it swung open of its own volition. Which Lugorix found more than a little weird.

It got weirder when they ripped aside the shelves and went through—and then down a passage and into a room that was much larger than the others: a circular rotunda of a chamber with a ceiling that vaulted overhead. Lugorix thought there was something familiar about the markings on that ceiling but he couldn’t place it. Tables lined the tapestry-covered walls, and scrolls were scattered on those tables, along with strange artifacts and instruments.

A man sat at one of the tables. He wore a grey robe and had a white beard. He looked up in surprise as they entered—asked them a question in Phoenician. Eurydice replied, whereupon he switched to Greek.

“Your accent is horrible,” he said.

“Thanks for nothing, greybeard,” said Eurydice.

“Who are you?”

“We’ve come for the map.”

“Help yourself,” said the man. He gestured at the room around him. “There are many here.”

“We’re looking for the only one that matters,” said Eurydice.

The man shrugged. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

“The one that Adherbal the Navigator compiled of his journey to the West,” said Eurydice. “In which he sailed beyond the Pillars of Hercules and discovered the route to the fabled domain of Atlantis. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”

There was a long pause. Finally, the man rose. “I have that,” he said. He walked to one of the tables, shuffled through papers—held up a weatherbeaten scroll.

“Here you go,” he said.

Eurydice glanced at it. “I had in mind the real one,” she said.

“Precisely what this is. See, those are the Pillars, these are the Fortunate Islands, and then west of that is—”

“Bullshit,” snapped Eurydice. “I said I want the real one.”

“I’m the Librarian,” snarled the man. “Think that I don’t know what the real one is?”

“Of course you do,” said Eurydice. “And we know you’re sworn to protect it. And we both know that what we’re looking for is only
half a map
, so how about you cough it up?”

The man’s face had gone pale as his beard. “I’m not sure I understand,” he said.

“But you do,” said Eurydice. “You only have half the map. I’ve got the other half.”

“You lie, whore.”

“I’m not a woman for hire and I’m not lying,” said Eurydice. “A Persian noblewoman named Barsine recovered the lost half of your map in the labyrinth beneath the ziggurat of Babylon, to whose priests the thief who stole it from you had bequeathed it when he was dying of plague.”

“An interesting story,” said the Librarian. “But I’m not sure I can—”

“Sure you can,” said Eurydice.

And with that, she knocked the old man onto the floor and proceeded to start beating the truth out of him. It was painful to watch. Lugorix felt he should stop her, but it wasn’t like he had an alternative way to get the information. Several more choice blows, and the beating was over—and the old man was dragging himself over to one of the tables, where he reached up and pulled a hidden catch—pulled out the contents of the hidden space within.

“Thanks,” said Eurydice, taking the proffered piece of parchment. As she did so, Lugorix heard shouting, echoing through the door they’d just come through. Someone had found the dead tiger. His eyes met those of Matthias, who nocked an arrow.

“How do we leave this place?” Eurydice asked the Librarian. He said nothing—but glanced at one of the tapesteries. Eurydice pulled that tapestry aside to reveal a flight of stairs leading upward. “The back way,” she said.

“So why didn’t we go
in
that way as well?” said Lugorix. “We could have avoided that damn tiger.”

“Because I didn’t know this way existed,” said Eurydice. She picked up another map, one that showed an outline of the palace. “But I do now.”

Then she took out a dagger and slashed the Librarian’s throat.

“Did you have to do that?” asked Matthias as the man bled out.

“Otherwise they’ll know what we took,” she said—and led the way up the stairs. They were cramped and winding, but Lugorix didn’t care: at least they were returning to the surface. The shouting behind them faded a little, drowned out by something else. Something that was echoing from up above, a hollow rhythmic thumping that seemed to somehow reverberate through the walls. Lugorix and Matthias looked at each other.

“Sounds like drumming,” said Matthias.

Lugorix nodded. The noise sounded akin to the booming noise made by an oarmaster as he beat out the rhythm for a galley. Only it was far louder. Especially when they opened the door at the top of the stairs and came out into a corridor. Lugorix shut the stairway door behind them, noticed that it was concealed from this side. He glanced at Eurydice.

“Which way?” he said.

“There,” said Eurydice, gesturing to the left. “Back to the ships.”

But Matthias shook his head. “I want to see what that drumming is,” he said.

“I don’t think you really do,” said Eurydice.

Lugorix knew that she was probably right. But he also knew that Matthias wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Because really, all of them knew exactly what that drumming was all about.

Especially now that it was punctuated by a shrill screaming.

“Fuck this,” said Matthias. He raced down the corridor, toward the screaming, and it was all Lugorix could do to keep up. Eurydice ran after them, yelling at them to stop being idiots. But it was way too late for that. The screaming subsided as Matthias and Lugorix rounded a corner into a section of the corridor whose walls were lined with arrow-slits. Each of those slits was glowing with a strange light. Lugorix peered out one of them.

And wished he hadn’t.

He was looking out at one of the citadel’s many courtyards. Only this was no ordinary courtyard. A vast metal idol with jagged teeth and green eyes dominated half of it. Flames licked up from a pit in front of that idol. Carthaginian soldiers stood at attention while priests dragged a struggling Athenian toward that pit. Lugorix caught a glimpse of Hasdrubal and Perdiccas watching the spectacle from a private box set over the courtyard. Hasdrubal had the expression of a man about to blow his load. Perdiccas’ face was grim. But he said nothing—rendered no protest as the priests reached the edge and pushed the Athenian in. Screams filled the air once more. The odor of burning flesh assailed Lugorix’s nostrils. Matthias turned from the window as Eurydice came running up.

“They’re barbarians,” was all she said.

“No man should have to die that way,” said Lugorix.

“Not if we have anything to say about it,” muttered Matthias.

Eurydice looked at him, realization slowly dawning on her face. “What are you suggesting?”

“Not a suggestion,” said Lugorix. “We’re going to free the prisoners.”

“That’s not a good idea,” said Eurydice.

“Nothing’s good about letting my countrymen roast to death.” Matthias’ face was quivering with rage. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand by and let that happen.”

“You’ve got to be reasonable,” said Eurydice.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because we’ve got the
key to the lost treasures of the ancients here,”
snarled Eurydice. “Which may be the only thing standing between Alexander and his conquest of the
entire fucking world
. So how about you get a grip on yourself and get a sense of proportion before we lose—” She broke off as more screaming filled the air. Another Athenian had been hurled into the pit. Matthias whirled to face Eurydice.

“We either do this or we’re not coming,” he said.

“This will be the death of us,” said Eurydice quietly.

“So be it,” replied Lugorix. “Now show us the way.”

Eurydice nodded. She consulted her map, then turned and led them back along the corridor, past the concealed door and back the other way. Lugorix was all too conscious of just how conspicuous they were, given that they were out of the secret warrens and into the main concourses of the citadel. And unlike back at the palace of Agathocles, they weren’t in disguise. Sooner or later they were going to run into somebody.

It turned out to be sooner. They weren’t even out of the corridor when the concealed door from the library popped open and a squad of soldiers came through—along with several dogs who immediately started howling when they saw the three intruders whose scent they’d been pursuing. The soldiers began yelling in Phoenician as they released the dogs. Lugorix led the way around a corner, threw open a door as Matthias unslung his bow. As Eurydice rushed past him, Matthias fired an arrow into the mouth of the first dog just as it came round the corner. Then he slammed the door and threw the bar.

Lugorix looked around, was relieved to see this wasn’t a dead-end, that there were two exits. The room itself was filled with what looked to be supplies for the nearby temple: wood, coal, rope, vats of oil and pitch. There were a series of thumps as the remaining dogs hurled themselves against the door—followed by the unmistakable sound of soldiers breaking the door down. Pieces of wood flew across the room as the door started to bulge inward.

“That way,” said Eurydice, pointing to the leftmost of the exits. “Takes us back to the harbor.”

“And the prisoners?” said Matthias.

“I’ll show you where we can do a detour.” The hammering intensified. “Now can we please leave?”

“First we’re going to delay these pricks,” said Matthias. He grabbed some of the rope—turned to Lugorix, but the Gaul was already on it, turning over the nearest vat of pitch and spilling it across the floor. As he did so, he heard a clicking next to his ear. Eurydice had taken out a tinderbox and was striking iron onto flint, setting fire to the map of the palace.

“Don’t we need that?” he asked.

“Already memorized it.”

Lugorix nodded—picked up a second barrel of pitch and began pouring it out behind them as they got the hell out of there. Twenty yards along the new corridor, and Eurydice tossed the burning scroll onto the trail of oil. A tongue of flame hissed away down the corridor as they all started running—and came into a kitchen filled with servants preparing food, all of whom fled screaming as the two mercenaries looked around.

“Get down,” said Eurydice.

They hurled themselves onto the floor just as a huge explosion blew down the corridor. Pieces of cutlery and food were flung through the air. More explosions followed, punctuated by screaming.

“That’ll buy us some time,” said a soot-covered Matthias as they staggered to their feet and out of the kitchen. Eurydice proceeded to lead them through a series of passages that apparently were earmarked for the palace servants; Lugorix got glimpses of the harbor out the occasional window. They were getting closer.

“Where’s this damn detour?” said Matthias.

“Right there,” replied Eurydice—pointing at the wall. Matthias knelt, began groping for its edges or handles. But then Lugorix shoved him aside.

“Allow me,” he said, swinging Skullseeker down onto the door, crumpling it inward. He drew back his boot, kicked in what was left. Then ducked to enter a low-roofed corridor.

“That way,” said Eurydice, gesturing to one end where a flight of stairs led up into darkness. The three of them set off, rapidly finding themselves back in the same kind of passages through which they’d originally entered the citadel.

Only now they were much noisier. Shouts echoed along them. Someone was putting the prisoners in lockdown. It wasn’t hard to guess the reason why. Lugorix and Matthias charged round a corner to find two Carthaginian soldiers looking down on the mass of Athenian prisoners, darts at the ready. Their backs were to the three who’d just arrived.

“Hi there,” said Eurydice.

The men whirled round—just as Matthias and Lugorix proceeded to shove them hard—they reeled backward, lost their footing, tumbled into the room below. An enormous cheer went up from the Athenians, who swarmed the two hapless soldiers—punching, kicking and rending. That was when Carthaginians on the other platforms started hurling darts.