Free Gladiator: Son of Spartacus by Simon Scarrow

stood by their leader, weapons levelled as the horses charged into them and they were either cut down or trampled. Only Mandracus remained on his feet, swinging his axe from side to side, forcing the nervous riders to swerve round him. Beyond, the road was open and Marcus briefly dared to hope they had escaped. He glanced back and saw Lupus behind him, cloak flickering wildly as he hunched over his saddle, still holding the dagger aloft.
    ‘Keep up!’ Marcus shouted.
    Beyond his friend he saw Mandracus spin round, draw back his axe and swiftly take aim.
    ‘Lupus! Look out!’ Marcus yelled desperately.
    Then the axe flew through the air. For an instant Marcus focused on Lupus’s confused and fearful expression. Then his horse abruptly collapsed to one side of the road, hurling the scribe from the saddle. Blood sprayed into the air from the shattered rear limb of the horse and it kicked and writhed as it struggled to roll back on to its belly. As it tried to rise up, the wounded leg gave way and the horse fell on to its side with a shrill, agonized whinny.
    Marcus reined in, half turning his horse so it stood across the track. Then he saw Lupus stir. The boy pushed himself up on to his hands and knees, and shook his head. Marcus was about to ride back when Festus called out.
    ‘Marcus! What are you doing? Come on, boy!’
    ‘It’s Lupus! He’s fallen!’
    Festus muttered a curse and turned back, slewing his horse to a halt beside Marcus. They both saw Lupus start staggering towards them. He had lost the dagger and stretched out a hand pleadingly. Marcus beckoned frantically with his spare hand as he sheathed his sword.
    ‘Run!’
    Mandracus was already striding along the road behind Lupus, a cruel grin twisting his lips. He stopped beside the horse to snatch up his axe and continued after Lupus as Marcus looked on in horror. Then the spell was broken and he grabbed his reins to ride back and rescue his friend.
    ‘No!’ Festus shouted and snatched the reins from Marcus’s hands, causing his horse to rise up and snort.
    ‘What are you doing?’ Marcus snapped. ‘Let go!’
    ‘It’s too late. Look!’
    Marcus turned. He saw Mandracus lean forward to grab Lupus by the scruff of his neck, then hurl him to the ground. Standing over the boy, he began to swirl his axe, looking up at the two riders watching him a short distance away. Behind him his mounted followers were dashing past, eager to chase down the Romans.
    ‘We can’t save him.’ said Festus. ‘We can only save ourselves, if we go now. Marcus!’
    His raised voice jolted Marcus, who took a last despairing look at his friend sprawled in the snow. But he knew that Festus was right: it was too late. With guilt coursing through every inch of his body, Marcus snapped his reins and turned away, galloping after Caesar. The others were already well into the pass, making for the open ground on the far side. Behind them the sound of their pursuers echoed off the walls of the cliff as Mandracus bellowed an order.
    ‘Run them down! Kill them all!’
    His booming voice sounded like thunder in the confined space and Marcus glanced back to see the first of the horsemen sweep past their leader. Then there was another sound. A dull crack. Something moved above the pass and drew Marcus’s eyes. The mass of snow piled there slowly tilted forward and then broke into large chunks amid an explosion of white that fell into the pass with a roar and a hiss. The horsemen barely had time to look up before the avalanche hit them and swept them and their mounts away, burying them amid a great swirl of snow and rocks. Marcus slowed down and turned in his saddle to look properly as the last of the dislodged snow pattered down. Then all was still.
    ‘Marcus!’ Festus called out. ‘We must go!’
    ‘Yes.’ Marcus swallowed and nodded. ‘Yes, I’m coming.’
    Festus started to gallop away while Marcus took one last look. He felt a numbing sense of loss. ‘Lupus …’
    Then he