Sea of Flames: A thrilling account of the Battle of Actium by Forrest Alistair

Author:Forrest, Alistair
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2024-02-25T00:00:00+00:00

PART THREE: FIREFIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Coastal Seas off Actium, Greece, the last day of Sextilis (August), 31BC

Eurycles retched and choked on bitter bile, a strange whistling noise assaulting his senses. Fleetingly, he saw clouds before being swamped once again by the frothy swell. He tried not to breathe in the salty flood, but he had no control over his body, his mind promising peace at last after the tumbling, chaotic drop, the final few heartbeats. Could he hear the cries of gulls, or was it his own scream? Or Zara’s?

Zara. He tried to call to her but choked again. He fought his bonds but couldn’t move. In fact, he couldn’t feel his legs and arms, and he cursed their disobedience. His head lolled, the only part of him that moved, and again he saw sky and clouds — which meant that Zara couldn’t. At last he found his voice and tried to call again, but he knew it was no more than a weak groan. He cursed the gods for choosing life for him and decided he would defy them all and die with her, right here, right now. A wave crashed over him, rocking the cross to which he was bound, and he opened his mouth to welcome death. He would be with her in the underworld.

But it was not bitter seawater that filled his lungs. He gulped damp air. Beautiful, fresh air, the very breath of Apollo. He marvelled at its sweetness and breathed again. The underworld, perhaps. He realised that he could see around him, not just sky and clouds but rolling waves and a murky horizon. Then he noticed a sea creature at his feet advancing cautiously toward him, its weight tipping the base of the cross slowly into the depths and his head clear of the water. He looked again and saw that the creature was human and held a knife between its teeth, its dripping hair framing intense, wild eyes.

Panther.

Eurycles dared to hope. He twisted his head and thought he could see Zara’s dark hair trailing like weed, swirling in the swell rebounding from the cliff face. His senses began to return — the awful sensation of falling, the rush of air, the sudden plunge into darkness. He could now see the height of the cliff, at least five times a ship’s mast. Surely no one could survive that — but he had. He peered again and saw Zara’s head emerge from the angry water, hair now hanging limp, concealing her face. He realised he could feel movement on his legs and his first selfish thought was that he wasn’t dead. Panther’s scrabbling had caused no pain, so perhaps he had no broken bones.

Panther was now attempting to heave the cross further out of the water by leaning back, but it was a dead weight for one so slight. Eurycles could see he was weeping, close to panic. He forced himself to cry out, ‘Cut my bonds so I can help!’ He wasn’t sure if Panther heard him above the enveloping crash of surf around the cliff base, but the boy knew what to do.

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