A Dragon among the Eagles by Adam Alexander Haviaras

Author:Adam Alexander Haviaras
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: historical fantasy, Roman Empire, historical fiction
Publisher: Eagles and Dragons Publishing
Published: 2016-09-26T22:00:00+00:00

Lucius stumbled blindly through the city, his sword and scutum ready as he went. The horrors of that night were something he had never even imagined he would see. The murder of women and children, and of older men, the burning of mud-brick homes that collapsed on the inhabitants who had locked themselves within only to burn screaming with their little ones.

Painted columns and shrines burned and peeled and turned to dust as Roman troops howled, and drank, and raped, and stuffed their bags with loot, and their bellies with food.

Eventually, Lucius made his way out of the city gates. He had not found any more of his men, nor had he seen Argus again. He could not bear it anymore. Night had fallen around the burning city.

As he stepped out onto the plain beyond the walls where wild dogs tore at the bodies of the dead in roving packs, he spotted two lone soldiers standing still and at attention. Lucius walked over to where Alerio and Antanelis were. They had not moved the entire time.

They spotted Lucius coming toward them, and as he got closer, he could spot their looks of disgust and outrage.

Antanelis's face was covered in dry blood, but Lucius could see the traces of tears streaming down the young man's face as he stood watching and listening to what was happening.

Lucius came to a stop, and stood beside them.

"Lucius, thank you for saving my life out there," Antanelis said.

"We saved each other's lives out there. Every one of us. You fought like lions. Both of you.”

"You kept us together, Lucius," Alerio said. "I wonder if the others realize what’s happened." He looked disappointed.

"Where are Argus and the others?" Antanelis asked.

"They’re 'finishing the job'," Lucius said, his head hanging down now. Suddenly he was extremely tired. He knew that some crucial differences between the three of them who stood there, and all the others were severely highlighted that day.

Unable to help the people of Ctesiphon, Lucius, Alerio, and Antanelis watched the flames lick the sky as they must have done when Persepolis had been burned by the drunken Greek army so long ago. As Ctesiphon smouldered, the three friends held a sort of vigil to the day's fallen warriors before the crimson and orange glow of the giant, flaming pyre that was the capital of Parthia.

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