Page 81 of Vesuvius

‘You’ve said.’ Loren made to keep walking, but as he turned, he wavered. Swayed. His knees buckled, and only barely did Felix slow his fall. Slowed it, but didn’t prevent it. Loren’s palms braced flat against the warm earth.

Felix swore and gritted his teeth. ‘Not again.’

Loren had done this too many times for it to be explained away as exhaustion or heat. Until now, Felix had always thought prophecy was horseshit, but he was starting to wonder if Loren defied those rules, too. Gripping his shoulders, Felix heaved Loren upright. His eyes were glassy, focus a hundred leagues away, like Aurelia’s had been in the alley two nights ago.

‘Snap out of it.’ Felix pressed his hand to Loren’s burning forehead. ‘Come back.’

With a choked gasp, Loren shuddered and flailed, shoving until Felix sprawled on his arse.

He spat out, ‘Riders.’

All at once, Felix understood. His hearing sharpened, picking up the steady rhythm of hooves against packed dirt, a mile or less away. Distant, but nearing quickly. His nerves spiked. Could be innocent passers-by.

Could be worse.

‘They’re close.’ He dragged Loren up and jumped for the shoulder of the road, where they landed in a cluster of bushes. For a moment, rustling branches and thorns consumed Felix’s senses, limbs so tangledhe wasn’t sure where his ended and Loren’s began. The proximity of skin and sound saturated him, too much at once.

‘Felix, how did you hear—’

‘One horse. Maybe two. Half a minute at most.’

‘But how?’

‘Shut up. Don’t move.’

Loren stilled. The rustling silenced seconds before the horsemen rounded the corner. Felix held his breath. In the close, dappled shadow of the bush, he made out a trickle of blood running down Loren’s chin where a thorn had pricked his lip.

Move on. Keep riding.

‘Look! Prints,’ a man exclaimed.

Felix mouthed a curse.

A horse whinnied. Two sets of feet dropped to the ground to investigate. Twisting his neck past the point of comfort, Felix watched filthy sandal-strapped calves tromp around where he and Loren had argued on the road moments earlier.

Warm fingers intertwined with his. Felix nearly shot out of his skin, but Loren only squeezed his hand. Another easy gesture. Something Felix would never have thought to do himself.

‘Keep looking,’ a different speaker grunted. His voice rang familiar. Felix riffled through his memory but came up blank when Loren’s thumb brushed his. Felix’s brain may as well have grown legs, sprinted off.

‘They end here.’

‘No.’ The softschnickof a blade drawn. ‘There.’

Many things happened in the space of a heartbeat.

A sword hacked through the bush. Felix’s head should have rolled, but he wasn’t in the underbrush anymore. He was on his feet, being dragged into the trees bordering the road. An angry shout echoed, and the firmplunkof an arrow hitting its mark followed. Felix looked up, expecting to see a shaft protruding from Loren’s back, but no, he wasstill running, and Felix ran, too, and ahead, an arrow shivered in a tree trunk.

Crashing feet thundered behind. Then Felix’s thief instincts kicked in. He took the lead. He pulled Loren, hands clasped, and they hurtled through the forest as if hellhounds were snapping at their heels. Mercury’s helmet, swaddled in its bag, knocked against Felix’s back, rhythm like a heartbeat.

Trees thinned. The landscape changed from forest to a field of plants in uniform rows. They burst into a vineyard, one of several in the countryside around Vesuvius, where black soil let grapes grow heavy. Felix had sampled some the other week, until a worker chased him off. It felt nice to reminisce about old times, when he was chased for nothing more than petty theft, and his chaser wasn’t armed with lethal weapons.

Banners embroidered with a familiar vine-cinchedLhung listless in the dead air. Felix moved his thumb, tucked inside his fist, to rub the ring he still wore. A plan teased his mind.

Tactically speaking, a vineyard was a poor place to flee through. With straight rows, another arrow fired would find a clean shot. If their pursuers wanted the bag, Loren, empty-handed, was collateral damage. A victim of circumstance. Only one logical thing to do.

‘We need to separate,’ Felix panted.

Loren turned on him, eyes horrified. ‘Are you mad? I’m not leaving you.’

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