Black Salt

Black Salt - Chapter 30

 The door flew open and slammed against the wall. He started up in his bed, half in and half out of the nightmare world. He saw nothing but deep gloom, and for the span of a heartbeat he thought he was still in the midst of that destroying storm of smoke and dust. Then he heard the thud of running feet, and the sound of a man's breath; rapid, shallow gasps, as of a runner who was trying to catch his breath.

He tried to move without making a sound, hoping to slide out of the end of his bed, and get to the weapons rack by the wall. His visitor must have heard him.

"Nikias!"

He cursed under his breath, and threw himself into a roll, that carried him out of bed, and onto his feet. He landed with a thump, and he heard the other man gasp.

"Gods damn you Nikias, don't do that!"

The voice sounded familiar, but he was concentrating on finding a weapon. The darkness and the leaping roll combined with the disorientation of being wrenched out of sleep, and he found that though on any other day he could have entered the room with his eyes closed, and walked straight to his sword, this time his questing hand met the sharp corner of his desk.

Hot pain surged through his fingers. "Gods below!"

"No, don't shout!" He heard panic in the interloper's voice. "If you make a noise, they'll get me."

Nikias's thoughts sang with outrage. You expect me to let you encompass my murder, and even to help you do it in silence?

"Men! Guards! Soldiers of the king! Kalliphas, curse your slow feet and slower brain, come to me!"

"Oh gods, no!"

The intruder threw himself at Nikias, and shoved him off his feet. He stumbled back, caught the edge of the table in his side, and then fell against the weapons rack, and made a clattering racket as he dropped. His knives, swords, and even an axe swung, clanged, and then hit the floorboards, and every thunk and clank made him flinch, as he strove to get his hands, feet and body away from the lethal rain.

He scrabbled for a weapon, but already the intruder had closed in on him, and he felt a cold thrill in his skin as the man pressed the sharp edge of a sword against his neck. "What do I have to do to make you be silent, and listen to me?"

He felt hot breath on his face, and caught the tangy odour of olives, garlic, and cheap wine. The scent was familiar, and so was the voice.

"The gods must have stolen your senses...Halfhand."

The man above him gasped through his teeth, an ugly sucking sound, and he huffed, and he shook as if snakes writhed under his skin. "The gall of him! Even caught naked by night, with a blade to his neck, and living now only by my goodwill, and still he will not, cannot say my name."

"We've made enough music between us to set the city dancing," said Nikias. "I'd say it's more than goodwill that stays your hand, and it is still, for see, the blade licks but it does not bite."

"Apollophanos. Say it. Apollophanos. If your men rush us, I'll send you down to the world below before they take me. Say my name or die."

He listened in the gaps between words, straining his ears to catch the sound of sandaled feet pounding the stairs, and the hiss of iron unsheathed as his men came ready to attack. Until he heard that sound, he was at the bastard Spartan's mercy.

He'd have to buy time.

"You didn't come here to prattle of names."

"I-"

"You came because you're afraid."

Apollophanos choked and snorted, and then he drew back his sword, and smashed Nikias in the temple with the pommel. It felt as if his head had cracked open, and his brains had been crushed. White light seemed to flare inside his eyes, and even with his jaw clamped shut, an agonised moan escaped through his teeth.