LEANORE 24
By Heck



Comments to heck@beadyeye.net

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

IMAGINE BEING NEXT TO A DOZEN CANNONS, all firing at once.

Imagine a hundred elephants trumpeting next to your ear.

Imagine the roar of a thousand lions as they spring at you in the dark.

Imagine all that, and you have still not imagined the magnitude of the sound
that rolled over Capitol that afternoon. The shockwave blasted tiles from the
roofs nearest to its source, and washed through the city, shattering glass and
knocking folk off their feet. It went beyond the frontier of mere noise, and
out the other side.

Quite simply put, it was the loudest sound ever heard in those parts.

Leanore fell to her knees and clapped her hands over her ears, trying to cut
out the awful crescendo. The legionnaires stopped in their tracks and threw
themselves flat. The crowd milled frantically, their screams drowned out by
the frightful blast.

It went on, and on. It went on for what seemed like forever. The ground began
to tremble and shake underfoot. Parts of the great amphitheatre cracked, and
blocks of masonry tumbled to the sand. The exits were blocked by the surge of
panicking humanity, all trying to escape at once; many were crushed to death
by the press of bodies.

The roar subsided to an angry rumble, a blessed relief after the terrible
blast, but the screams of the stampeding populace became audible. Which, in a
way, was worse.

Leanore climbed to her feet. Above the high walls of the Hippodrome, the peak
of Chehelios was no longer visible. What was visible was a towering plume of
black smoke and red fire, so bright it hurt to look at it, billowing hundreds
of feet into the sky. She could only stand and gasp, bleeding mouth hanging
open in shock.

Something settled on her shoulder. Flakes of fine grey ash, drifting down like
dirty snow, began to fall, interspersed with tiny bright sparks that stung and
burned where they touched bare flesh. Quickly it became a blizzard, settling
on the ground and piling in hot drifts.

Leanore's head flicked round. Her eyes alighted on Julia Domina standing in
her box, staring at the eruption as if transfixed. The gladiatrix sprinted
over.

"Julia!" she yelled, her voice all but drowned by the continuous rumble.
"Julia Domina! Down here!"

From the box, twelve feet above the sand, it seemed that her patronne would
not hear, but at last Leanore's yells got through. Julia's head turned slowly,
like one in a dream.

"Jump!" Leanore shouted. "Come on! Jump! I'll catch you!"

The Domina simply stared.

"Come on, damnit! Jump! You'll die if you stay up there!"

Julia's tear-streaked face took on a confused expression, as if she could not
comprehend what was expected of her. Exasperated, Leanore assumed a wide
stance with arms outstretched.

"Gods damnit, woman, jump!"

At last, she got the message. Julia swung her legs over the parapet and
jumped, landing neatly in Leanore's arms. Leanore caught her with little
effort and set her on her feet. She was puzzled by the dazed look in the
redhead's eyes.

"Claudia next. Where is she?"

Julia made no reply. Leanore seized her shoulders and swung her round to face
her.

"What?" The Domina's voice was nearly inaudible.

"Claudia!" Leanore shouted in her ear. "Where's Claudia?"

"Dead".

Although she could not hear it, the shape formed by Julia's lips, together
with her distraught, teary face, was enough. The single word stopped Leanore
in her tracks. "Dead?!" she screamed. "Why? How?"

Julia shrugged. A hot spark, arriving on Leanore's bare forearm, jerked her
back to reality.

"We've got to get out of here! Come on!"

She grabbed Julia's hand and ran over the sand, dragging the poor woman in her
wake. She let go when they reached the trapdoor in the arena floor.

At the rear of the tiers, the tall man finally removed the crossbow from under
his cloak. He raised it to his shoulder and took careful aim.

Leanore stood Julia to one side and made sure she was not in immediate danger
from falling masonry. Then she bent to examine the door itself.

Julia let out a high-pitched squeal of pain. Leanore glanced up just in time
to see her crumple to the ground, and wicked-looking crossbow quarrel
protruding from her thigh. As she rushed to the stricken woman's side, she
realised that the bolt must have passed through the space where she herself
had been standing, just a second before.

Having missed his mark, the tall man cursed. He could not risk a second shot,
with so many people milling and jostling about. Discarding his weapon, he
melted into the throng, ready to take his chances with the masses.

Leanore scanned the tiers with her eyes, but could see no sign of the origin
of the bolt. Kneeling beside Julia she inspected the wound. Part of Julia's
dress puckered where it had been pushed into the wound, and it penetrated
deep. She suspected, also, that the quarrel would be barbed, so could not be
simply pulled out. Her deft fingers ripped the dress around the point of entry
and laid hold of the thick shaft, snapping it off as closely as she dared.

The ground gave another heave. Leanore sprang erect and bent over near the
trapdoor, sweeping the sand from the planking. Unfortunately it was not
hinged, and the elevator mechanism was in the closed position.

She folded her hand into a knuckly, iron hard fist and held it near one
corner. She drew it back a couple of times, gauging range and angle, then
smashed it down with devastating force.

It hurt. Gods, it hurt like hell, and she cradled her hand to her chest,
fearful that she might have broken it. Luckily, such was not the case, and she
was able to see that her blow had splintered the corner of the thick wood
sufficiently that she was able to get her fingers under it. She hooked them in
place like a set of steel grappling hooks and squatted over her task.

The tremendous muscles of her forward thigh arched and bunched, and ripples of
effort spread across her wide back. Her face contorted in a rictus of stress
as she heaved and pulled upward at the heavy platform and sturdy mechanism
beneath.

The screech of tortured wood and metal was almost lost under the tumult of
anguished voices and the rumble of the continuing eruption. Great cables of
sinew stood out on Leanore's neck as her face twisted with effort. Her teeth
bared, she roared out loud with the pain of her effort while she poured every
ounce of her enormous strength into the seeming impossible task.

A further tremor shook the earth, and the giant statue of the god Xanthus
rocked on its pedestal.

Something snapped with a crack like the bullwhip of the gods. A small gap
appeared around the edges, and there was the twang of snapping springs. Then
all at once the heavy mechanism gave up the struggle and the whole elevator
platform ripped from the ground, so suddenly that Leanore fell over backwards
and landed on her buttocks.

The powerful woman scrambled to her feet and offered a hand to Julia. The
Domina gratefully accepted the help and stood up, leaning heavily on Leanore's
arm. But her thigh was deeply damaged and the shock of the impact had cracked
her femur. As soon as she tried to bear weight on the leg it collapsed under
her, and she went down with a cry of agony.

"I can't", she sobbed, covering her face to shield against the rain of sparks
that now came as thick and fast as the ash. "I can't make it. Leave me. Save
yourself".

Whether Leanore did not hear, or heard but ignored the pleas of her former
mistress, will never be known. Without hesitation, she bent and scooped the
smaller woman up in her arms. She allowed herself just a brief glance at the
angry, spewing mountain and the growing carnage all around, and jumped with
her burden down into the shaft.

A vertical drop of about eight feet, carrying a load equivalent to about
three-quarters of one's own bodyweight, would sent most people sprawling,
possibly with severe injuries. Leanore's thigh muscles simply absorbed the
impact and she took off running, carrying the stricken Julia as if she were a
child in arms. She dodged between the various props and apparatus stored
beneath the amphitheatre, picking her way by the light of the few torches that
had not been shaken out of their sconces. Finally, she reached the door to the
gladiator's waiting area, and slung Julia over one shoulder to leave her a
free hand to operate the latch.

A wall of roaring flame waited behind the door, and shot out a red tongue to
lick at them. Leanore's eyebrows, and the hem of Julia's gown, were singed and
it was only the gladiatrix's lightning reflexes that saved them both from
instant incineration. She leapt back, slamming the door shut on the raging
blaze, and sprinted away.

It was as well she did not look back.

Fed by a draught of oxygen, the fire burned white hot. The ancient timbers of
the door swelled and exploded outward, showering Leanore's retreating back
and, incidentally, Julia's shoulders, with projectile splinters.

One sharp missile, propelled by the force of the explosion, whined past
Leanore's ear so closely that she actually felt the wind of its passage.
Another struck Julia's cheek a glancing blow, opening a deep cut in her
smooth, pristine flesh.

There was no time to take heed. Leanore dashed on, hurdling obstacles in her
way, while Julia clung desperately to her muscular waist, trying to be as
stable a load as she could be.

Leanore pitched herself sideways, spilling Julia onto the ground, and rolled
as an almighty crash sounded above. Right where they had been the enormous
bronze outstretched arm of Xanthus crashed straight through the floor of the
arena into the under-space. Its huge palm would have squashed them flat, like
a pair of bugs. Leanore could only lie and watch as the tree-like pillar of
the bronze forearm toppled sideways, and covered Julia's body with her own as
the statue's corpse hit the ground above.

Sand, mixed with jagged and broken timbers, rained down on them. Leanore
grunted with pain as several heavy spars landed on her, but her superb
condition allowed her body to soak up the blows with little damage.

Finally the precipitation of debris ceased, although there was now an
increased danger from the fall of hot sparks. The underfloor area was dry and
webbed with wooden joists that would go up like tinder, in the right
circumstances.

Leanore judged there were no circumstances righter than these.

Underneath her, Julia moaned as she raised a hand to wipe the dust from her
eyes.

"Are we dead?

"Not yet. Are you all right?" Leanore still had to shout to make herself
heard.

Julia nodded, and Leanore imagined that the look of fear and horror on her
friend's grimy face has probably mirrored by her own.

"Come on!" she hollered. "We have to get out of here!"

Planks and heavy baulks of timber fell from her bruised back as she climbed to
her feet. A wave of dizziness and fatigue washed over her, and she realised
for the first time that she was near to exhaustion. She was, of course, still
battered and bruised from her prolonged boxing match, and the day's exertions
were beginning to sap even her extraordinary stamina. She shook herself.

"Haven't got time to be tired", she muttered.

She gathered Julia into her arms and resumed her course. There was no question
of running, now. The collapse of the god and the destruction of the ceiling
had left little clear space in which to run, and she had to pick her way
gingerly over and through the detritus.

Not far, now. The door at the opposite end lay only a few feet away. Leanore
decided that, if the space beyond were ablaze too, she would make a quick and
merciful end for Julia before finding a way to do the same for herself.

Her hand reached out for the latch.

A high-pitched, whining scream sounded from above. Leanore spun to look.

Outside, a lava bomb the size of a small house plummeted toward the
Hippodrome. With an explosion like the clap of doom it smashed into the arena
floor. Leanore was thrown against the door and almost blinded by the flash and
the thick, acrid stench of sulphur filled her nostrils and tore at her chest
as it filled her lungs with hot smoke.

She grabbed the latch, coughing.

The door was locked from outside!

She glanced over her shoulder. A great, roiling, boiling wall of red flame
swept through the space toward them, devouring everything in its path and
moving far more quickly than Leanore could run.

Anger, fierce, consuming anger, flashed through her. Her mind filled with
rage, and she spat her fury at the approaching inferno in a single word.

"NO!"

She raised her foot. Enhanced by her towering rage, every last micron of her
awesome strength concentrated in her thigh muscles. With the power of a
charging bull, her leg pistoned out and smashed against the centre panel of
the door. Once, twice, and again.

Julia's copper hair began to crinkle with the approaching heat.

The timber of the door was ancient and had grown iron hard with age. The
architrave, door lining, and heavy metal bolts that held it shut from the
other side hampered Leanore's blows. But she would not be denied.

At the fifth blow, when the heat was beginning to blister her skin, the door
split down the middle with an ear-splitting crack. The entire structure,
including the frame, collapsed away from her. Leanore did not even wait for it
to hit the ground. She leapt over it and hurled herself to one side. She heard
Julia give a little cry as her head struck the wall a glancing blow.

A roar like the fury of daemons filled her head as the rolling flame billowed
through the ruined doorway. Leanore did not stay to look, but sprinted away,
the swirling red cloud right behind her.

They were in the animal quarters, and the screams and roars of the tortured,
terrified beasts followed them as they hurtled down the passageway. Leanore
would have loved to be able to help them, but the flames were fast closing on
her heels.

At the end of the passageway, the door to the animal wrangler's living
accommodation stood open. Leanore galloped through and kicked it shut. She
knew it would only hold the flames for a few seconds, but that might be
enough.

The quarters were empty of people. Not surprising. Leanore risked a second to
check on Julia. She was unconscious, but still alive and breathing evenly.
That would have to do, for now.

In the far corner of the dormitory was a steep staircase. Leanore did not know
this part of the Hippodrome but hoped that, if the layout were similar to the
gladiator's quarters, the stairs would lead to the colonnaded walkway that led
to the outside. She took the stairs three at a time, and was relieved to find
that her hopes had foundation.

Her arms were beginning to ache from carrying the flaccid dead weight of Julia
for so long. She swung her up and over her shoulder again, where the redhead's
arms dangled uselessly down Leanore's back.

She ran down the walkway to emerge, finally, gratefully, into the street, and
was immediately swept along on the tide of fleeing, panicking people.

Leanore used her strength and ploughed her way to the side of the street,
where the press was a little less concentrated and it was easier to keep her
feet, and took a moment to get her bearings.

Let's see, now. The main entrance to the Hippodrome is there. The fire-
spewing Chehelios is that way, so the way out is.down there!

She set off in the direction of safety, but was halted by someone calling her
name.

"Leanore! Here! Leanore!"

She cast about her, and found the source of the cry. On the other side of the
street, halfway up a pole, hanging on with legs and one arm, Marcellus waved
frantically. His handsome face was grey with ash, like everyone else, and his
tunic was torn but he appeared to be uninjured. Leanore had yet to forgive him
for his treachery, but was pleased to see him nonetheless. She waved back.

"Can you get to us?" she yelled. Marcellus cupped a hand round his ear, a
questioning look on his face. "Can you get to us?" she repeated, making
exaggerated beckoning motions with her free hand.

Marcellus shrugged. He didn't know, but he would try. He dropped from his
perch and waded into the rushing stream of bodies, shouldering his way
through. His progress was slow, but he eventually barged his way to about
twelve feet from them.

A sudden look of surprise and fear filled his eyes and he fell, lost on the
melee of trampling feet. Leanore stood on tiptoe, casting around, hoping to
catch a glimpse of him, but he was not to be seen.

She doubted he would survive. Hundreds of people passed the point where he had
disappeared, and Leanore was sure he would be killed, stomped to death under
the stampeding feet. She gave him up for lost and turned away, focussing her
attention once more on Julia's and her safety.

A hand clutched her thigh. She reached down and grabbed it, and looked upon
the battered face of Marcellus gazing up from hands and knees, trying to climb
up her leg. She hauled him to his feet.

"You OK?"

"I feel like I've been through a gauntlet of a hundred barbarians, but I think
I'm all right". He gave a lopsided grin. "Bruised but unbowed. What do you
know? What's going on?" The shouted conversation was vital to their immediate
future.

"Very little", Leanore bellowed back. "We were under the arena, and haven't
seen much out here, yet. What about you?"

"More than I want to. Chehelios had blown, worse than ever before. The lava
has already reached the north wall and is damming up behind it. Even the stone
is burning, and it'll burst through any minute. Huge balls of fire have been
landing, and nearly the whole city is on fire. We have to get clear. South is
best".

"That's where we were headed. Look out!"

She grabbed what remained of his tunic and pulled him closer to the wall,
turning to face it.

A lava bomb, big as a wagon, shrieked as it collided with a building fifty
yards away. People were flung like ragdolls, wheeling through the air, dead
before they landed. A great tongue of flame enveloped scores more, and a
searing hot draught of air blasted over Leanore and party, pressing them flat
against the wall where they huddled.

Among the casualties was a tall man in a black cloak, who shrieked in agony as
his body was immolated.

Even greater panic seized the hordes of frightened people, and they began
running blindly, without direction, jamming the street from side to side.
Leanore fought to control her own fear, seeking for a way out.

"Here!" she shouted to Marcellus, and dumped the still form of the unconscious
Julia in his arms. "Carry her, and stay close behind me. Right behind".

She allowed no time for explanation, but forced her way into the seething
mass. Using shoulders, arms, and legs, Leanore laid hold of bodies left and
right, shoving and flinging them from her, carving a passage through the
throng. Men and women left the ground as she tossed them aside like a bow
wave, ploughing through like a ship through a storm.

Marcellus had no time to marvel at the unstoppable progress of the woman. He
knew he had to keep close or the mob would close up behind her, and he and the
Domina would be lost forever. He slung the inert figure over his shoulder and
grabbed Leanore's belt with his free hand. If they were lost, it would not be
by his doing.

Many people went down in the crush. Leanore often found herself stepping over
or on mangled bodies beneath the surge, and had to keep one eye on her feet to
avoid tripping.

It was as well that she did.

Right at her feet, a small girl of about five or six lay among the trampling
treading herd. The twisted attitude of one leg showed that the limb was
fractured, but she was conscious and wailing loud enough to be heard above the
pandemonium.

Leanore straight-armed a man who was about to tread on the child, and reached
down. Her fingers hooked under the girl's armpit, and she slung her on her
hip. The infant screamed in pain but clutched tightly around Leanore's neck.

The gladiatrix's training in unarmed combat was being put to good use as she
kicked, punched, and elbowed her way through the masses. Behind, Marcellus
clung on fast to her belt like a barge under tow, determined to keep up, while
Julia moaned and stirred on his shoulder.

At last, the high arch of the South Gate was in sight. Only about a hundred
yards to go.

A mighty explosion rocked them. Around, many people went down under the blast
of a shockwave that bowled them over, and it was only by force of will that
Leanore remained upright. Marcellus fell to his knees, almost losing his
precious burden, and the little girl buried her face in Leanore's neck,
squealing in terror.

Under the weight and heat of thousands of tons of white-hot lava, the North
Wall had given way. A monstrous tide of bright red molten rock surged over the
rubble and rushed through the city, burying or flattening everything in its
path. Towering plumes of liquid fire, bearing huge chunks of smashed masonry,
hurtled skyward and splashed back to earth, instantly incinerating the people
beneath.

Faster than a team of galloping horses, the stream thundered through the
streets, drowning out the screams of its victims. Marcellus stood with staring
eyes, transfixed by the river of glowing death as it charged toward him.

"Marcellus!" Leanore screamed in his ear. "Come on! We've got to get out! Go!
Go! Go!"

She yanked on his arm, re-hooking his fingers in her belt. Working completely
on instinct she shouldered into the horde, shoving helpless people out of her
way, working with both hands and trusting that the child would hang on firmly.

The tide of lava was gaining. Hundreds of people met instantaneous death at
its murderous touch, hotter than a thousand furnaces.

Leanore pushed on. Marcellus was dragged along in her wake, stumbling
occasionally as she towed him over trampled corpses. Only yards to go, now.

The lava was right behind. They could feel the heat on their backs, and
Julia's glorious mane of red hair curled up and singed on her head.

Now they were under the triumphal arch and being borne along on the terrorised
tide of people. Leanore fought her way to the edge of the stream and pushed
free, moving into the lee of the South Wall outside the doomed city.

Like sheep, the people poured through the gates, straight down the valley.
Leanore and Marcellus screamed at them to get off to the side under the
limited shelter of the wall. A few heard and obeyed, but the vast majority
fled headlong.

From the mouth of hell a great tongue of lava spewed through the gates. It
flowed fast, in a widening stream, overtaking the fleeing crowds and burning
their legs away from under them even as they ran. Within minutes the flow
engulfed them all, and there was nothing to be seen but the angry red lava
stream flushing across the valley floor.

Leanore and Marcellus, together with the few survivors that had the sense to
get out of the fire's path, ran on under the lee of the wall. Marcellus gasped
for breath as he ran, his burden beginning to take a toll. At once he
stumbled, rolling head over heels as he fell, yelling Leanore's name as Julia
tumbled from his shoulder.

Leanore glanced back in horror to see the captain on his hands and knees and
the form of the Domina, beautiful hair singed to within an inch of her scalp,
lying unmoving at his side. She was beside them in a second, touching her
fingers to the pulse in Julia's neck.

"She's still alive. Come on, Marcellus. We're still not safe".

"Can't", the man panted. "Can't carry her any more. I'm done".

"No, you're not, do you hear me?" Her hand closed around his bicep and she
hauled him to his feet. "Hold this child a moment".

She thrust the wailing infant into his arms, and bent to pick up Julia. She
threw the woman over her shoulder and retrieved the child from Marcellus.

"Hang on tight!" She spoke right into the child's ear. "Marcellus, you will
keep up. If you don't, I'm not coming back for you".

Leanore strode off, but Marcellus yelled after her.

"Wait!" He came to her side. "This wall isn't going to last long. It'll come
down soon. We have to get clear".

Leanore was breathing hard, herself, and the sweat ran down her face and chest
in rivulets, carving dark lines through the coating of grey ash. She looked at
him impatiently.

"High ground", he wheezed. "We need to get to high ground".

"Up there". Leanore indicated the surrounding hills with a lift of her chin.
Marcellus nodded agreement.

She was tired. She was bruised, battered, aching in every limb, and the injury
to her belly was sending needles of pain through her at every twist. She was
downright exhausted and well past the peak of her endurance. But the steely
core of determination, her iron-shod will, would not give up. Could not give
up. These people were depending on her.

Now with a double burden, she set off at a fast jog for the hills. The child
bounced on her hip and the woman flopped over her shoulder, but she kept up a
steady pace while Marcellus floundered along behind, doing his best to keep
up.

Halfway up, the slope suddenly got steeper. Leanore's pace flagged, but still
she kept on, never looking back doggedly putting one foot in front of the
other. Despite his own exhaustion, Marcellus could not help but wonder at the
power and stamina of this incredible woman.

He turned at a great roar behind them. The South Wall of the city collapsed,
releasing a flood of lava that spread evenly across the valley, working its
way into every nook and crevice and lapping at the lower slopes of the Eight
Hills. As he watched it began to fill the bowl-shaped valley with its
red-and-black, evil-smelling syrupy fluid.

The sight spurred him on. He redoubled his efforts and caught up with Leanore,
who was now sucking wind and beginning to stagger. He knew he could not be any
physical help, but lent encouragement with his words.

"Come on, Leanore! Just a few more feet! Nearly there! You can make it, you're
nearly at the top!"

She never made it.

The exertions of the day, the stress of her efforts since the beginning of her
championship fight until now, finally caught up with her.

Less than two yards from the peak of the hill, Leanore's legs gave way.
Marcellus grabbed the child and saved her from rolling down the hill. Julia
came to rest against Leanore where the gladiatrix lay on her face, heaving
great lungfuls of air in through nose and mouth.

Marcellus used up the last of his strength to drag Julia and the girl to
safety atop the hill, and tried to heave Leanore up there as well.

He could not budge her. He was finished and, although his efforts had been a
mere fraction of hers, was as exhausted as Leanore.

He sat down on the grass, resting his hands on his knees, and watched the
death rattle of the once mighty city.