Chapter 5
Moving with surprising agility despite the added weight of the elderly man, Julian bolted toward the towering marble columns of the Temple of Apollo. The heavy thud of Roman sandals echoed closely behind them, accompanied by shouted orders to seal the perimeter exits. Arrows clattered harmlessly against the stone pillars, splintering into jagged shards that rained down upon the ancient flagstones. Julian ducked low, using the massive architecture as cover as he navigated the labyrinthine courtyards of the temple complex.
Cassian groaned softly against Julian’s shoulder, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. "The eastern archive... through the subterranean water conduit," the old man whispered, his hand leaving a crimson smear across Julian’s dark embroidered robe.
Julian nodded silently, his muscles burning from the exertion. He reached the rear portico of the temple, where a heavy bronze grate covered the entrance to the old aqueduct system. Kicking the rusted lock with the heel of his heavy leather sandal, the iron bracket snapped with a metallic shriek. He dropped down into the cool, damp darkness below, pulling Cassian with him just as a volley of javelins embedded themselves into the wooden door frame they had abandoned seconds earlier.
The descent plunged them into sudden, echoing gloom. The air smelled of damp moss, stagnant water, and centuries of forgotten dust. Shafts of pale sunlight filtered down through occasional drainage grates overhead, illuminating the slick stone walkways that flanked the rushing underground canal. Julian set Cassian down gently against a dry stone pillar, tearing a strip of fabric from the hem of his own robe to bind the bleeding wounds on the old man's wrists.
"We cannot stay here long," Julian said, his voice echoing softly in the subterranean chamber. "The guards know these tunnels, even if they avoid them."
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Cassian swallowed hard, his face pale in the dim light. "They won't look here immediately. They think we are heading for the city gates. The archives are just fifty yards down this corridor, behind the wall marked with the twin serpents."
Julian retrieved his sword, testing the edge in the faint light. He felt a cold resolve settling into his bones. He was no longer an executioner serving a corrupt crown; he was a protector of the truth. But as the distant sound of echoing footsteps reached them from the upper levels, Julian knew that time was rapidly running out, and their sanctuary would soon become a tomb.
