Stowaway Slaves by David Grimstone Page A

the tunnel, Decimus was already fast approaching the grate and its revealing spear of light. Olu bunched his hands into fists in order to stop them from shaking; when Decimus moved through the light, he was almost afraid to watch. Then, in an instant, it was over . . . and Decimus was on the far side of the grate, beckoning Olu forward with one hand and raising a finger to his lips with the other.
    There were voices directly above them, coming from two guards who had evidently avoided being recruited for the hunt but were busy talking about it.
    Olu tried to block out their conversation as he crept along beneath them.
    â€œWhat will Doom do if he finds ’em?” said one. “Do you think he’ll just continue the trials as normal?”
    â€œHe’ll beat ’em both within an inch o’ their lives,” said the other. “He might even kill ’em, if he’s . . . hey . . . what was that?”
    Olu froze on the edge of the light stream. As far as he could tell, he hadn’t made a sound. Nevertheless, the guards had evidently heard something. He hunkered down in the shadows on the edge of the grate and waited, still shaking with fear. On the far side of the light, Decimus had a troubled, questioning look on his face.
    â€œLook lively,” said the first guard, above them. “Someone’s coming.”
    The two guards fell silent as several shadows crossed the grate, blocking out the light as they went. Olu took the opportunity to make a dash for it, using the marching troops as cover. He reached Decimus just as the guards continued their conversation.
    â€œThat was Hain’s lot, wasn’t it? I wonder what they’re doing here?”
    â€œI think they’ve got attack dogs in the sewers. If you ask me, that’s risk—”
    Decimus and Olu didn’t hear the end of the guard’s sentence as a sudden splash in the tunnel ahead caused them both to scramble back against the wall.

    There, in the distant gloom, was a heavy-set guard. He’d dropped into the sewer through a grate farther along the tunnel and was proceeding toward them.
    â€œBack!” Olu whispered frantically. “We need to go back!”
    â€œNo,” Decimus shouted, grabbing his friend by the arm and driving him against the sewer wall. “There’s at least two guards above that grate!”
    As his voice echoed loudly in the tunnel, two things happened at once.

    First, the guard in the tunnel ahead spotted them in the shadows and charged forward with a loud cry. Then, the grate above them was wrenched aside, and the two guards dropped into the sewer beside them.
    Decimus scrambled backward and slipped into the river of murky water, one hand clamped over his mouth. Olu simply froze where he was standing. Neither of them noticed that the sound of distant howling had grown steadily louder with every passing second.
    â€œYou boys stay right where you are,” warned the solitary guard, drawing his sword and holding it in front of him.
    â€œI’d listen to him if I were you,” echoed one of the two guards behind the boys. “We’ve got you now; don’t make it worse by trying anything . . . foolish.”
    Decimus gritted his teeth, and in that second Olu knew that his friend was about to do something very, very foolish indeed.
    Without a single word of warning, Decimus charged the two guards behind him. In the last split second, however, as they were raising their fists and preparing to tackle him, he suddenly changed direction and barreled headfirst into the guard on the other side of the tunnel. The boy moved with such speed that his enemy was taken completely by surprise, and the pair crashed to the floor in a complicated web of punches and kicks.

    The howling in the tunnels reached fever pitch, and even Olu was distracted from his fear. He kicked himself away from the sewer wall and took up a defensive stance, seemingly inviting the two guards to