Chapter 6 - THE ROAD NORTH
They abandoned the horses at dawn.
Darius led them into a river.
“We walk upstream.”
Lucan stared at the freezing water.
“Why?”
“So Varro's dogs lose our scent.”
Umbra entered first.
Lucan followed.
The water reached his waist.
His teeth chattered.
For hours they moved through forests and rocky valleys.
Darius changed direction constantly.
By sunset, they reached a shepherd's hut.
Lucan sat beside Umbra.
The lion's body kept him warm.
Mara watched them.
“He used to sleep beside your cradle.”
Lucan looked up.
“Umbra?”
“Your father found him as a cub.”
“Hunters had killed his mother.”
“Marcus raised him.”
Lucan rubbed the lion's mane.
“So he knew me.”
“Before you could walk.”
That explained everything.
Umbra hadn't recognized only the scar.
He had recognized Lucan.
His scent.
His blood.
Perhaps even something in his face.
Elias sat nearby.
“My father used to tell me stories about General Marcus.”
Lucan smiled faintly.
“Good stories?”
“Mostly.”
“What were the bad ones?”
“He couldn't sing.”
Darius laughed.
Mara laughed too.
It was the first time Lucan had heard her laugh since the soldiers came.
For one moment, they weren't fugitives.
They were simply people sitting around a fire.
Then Darius heard something.
He raised one finger.
Everyone became silent.
Horses.
Far away.
Varro.
They extinguished the fire.
Darius led them toward a cliff path.
The trail narrowed until only one person could walk at a time.
Lucan looked down.
Hundreds of feet below, a river crashed against black rocks.
Elias crossed first.
Then Mara.
Lucan followed.
Halfway across, an arrow struck the stone beside his foot.
“RUN!”
Varro's soldiers appeared behind them.
Lucan ran.
Another arrow flew.
Umbra roared.
The lion turned back.
“No, Umbra!”
Lucan screamed.
Umbra stood between the soldiers and the boy.
Varro appeared.
“Don't shoot the lion!”
His men looked confused.
Varro smiled.
“He's worth more alive.”
Lucan reached the other side.
Darius grabbed a rope tied to an old wooden support.
“Umbra!”
The lion sprinted across.
The moment he reached them, Darius cut the rope.
Part of the narrow bridge collapsed.
Three soldiers fell into the river.
Varro jumped backward.
The fugitives escaped.
Hours later, they reached a mountain ridge.
Darius pointed toward distant peaks.
“Beyond those mountains is the Seventh Legion.”
Lucan stared at them.
“And my father?”
Darius nodded.
“If he's still there.”
Lucan didn't like those words.
“If?”
Darius looked toward the smoke rising in the distance.
May you like
His expression darkened.
“That smoke is coming from his camp.”
