Legion of the Undead

by Michael Whitehead

  Vitus heard Lucia breathing hard next to him, as he leaned out from his hiding place to see how many men they were facing. He saw nothing but empty terrain.

  He looked around his party and could see all of them. Regulus and a second legionary, Marcius, had followed the injured man behind the outcrop.

  Antonius had been followed to a small cave in the canyon wall by the last legionary, Tatius. He signalled to the others in silent question but no-one could see who, or how many, they faced.

  He leaned his back against the rock and looked at Lucia. Her eyes were wild with excitement, and she looked to him for what to do next.

  “You’ve picked on the wrong people this time, my friends. We’re military, on urgent business from the legions. Let us pass and we will be on our way. I will even let the injury to my man go without punishment,” he shouted, and his voice came back at him from the valley walls.

  There was a moment of silence before a rough voice replied. “That was what the last man said, before we slit his throat.”

  “He was alone though, a different prospect to facing six men of the legions.”

  “We have numbers enough to make you bleed. We want your horses, weapons, and any food you have, then you can go.”

  “A generous toll indeed,” said Vitus. “Are you sure you don’t want our clothes, as well?”

  “Keep me waiting any longer and I will have the skin off your backs.”

  Regulus and Antonius had readied their bows, and Vitus signalled to both men to head back the way they had come. He hoped that they could find a way up the canyon walls in order to circle back round.

  Both men broke from cover and were narrowly missed by more than one shaft, fired from different positions along the valley. Vitus tried to judge exactly where the shots had come from but the landscape in front of him was so rock-strewn, that he would just be guessing.

  The bandit leader shouted out to him, “If those men try to come at us from behind, I will gut them like pigs. How much do you love your men, Man of the Legions?”

  Vitus knew he had to draw the gang out, but it would be a risk to the men under his command. He signalled to the three legionaries. When he had their attention, he mouthed to them to move up slowly.

  The first man, Gallus, made a run and slide behind another rock. He came to a halt with a look of agony on his face, clutching his thigh. No bandits moved, but Vitus hoped they had just been caught unawares. If this group proved to be patient, then this could be a costly encounter.

  Marcius and Tatius, moved at the same time, an arrow followed one of them behind a small but thick tree trunk, missing him by inches.

  Vitus saw where the shot was loosed from this time. To make any kind of reply, he would have to move himself. He whispered to Lucia to stay down, she nodded, her back to the rock and a wicked looking dagger gripped in her hands.

  Vitus watched for Gallus to make his run, and sprinted towards the cave Antonius had vacated.

  He heard a metallic spang as an arrow glanced off the greave of the running legionary. The man rolled behind a boulder and checked his leg. He held up a thumb to signal he was fine. Vitus had not seen the shot fired, but Lucia whistled to him and pointed towards a rock much closer to him than he had imagined the bandits to be.

  “Are we having fun yet?” The leader’s voice came clear across the canyon but its direction was distorted by the valley walls. “You know this could all be over very quickly, don't you? I’ve upped my price, though. You've inconvenienced me too much to simply take your horses and weapons now.

  “I think I’ll take the girl as well. You can all still go about your business but I think she can stay and keep my men company. A couple of them were hurt last night and I think they deserve a little present to cheer them up.”

  Vitus let the words flow over and around him. They made no difference to the predicament they were in. If they lost this fight, no-one would live. Maybe Lucia, but the rest of her life would be short and lived out in utter misery.

  Marcius broke cover and ran for a cluster of boulders. As he passed a smaller rock, a man stepped out from behind it with a short blade in his fist.

  Vitus marvelled at the reactions of the soldier as he ducked a shoulder and charged the man to the ground. Vitus drew back the string of his bow, feeling it tremble slightly as it reached maximum pressure. The arrow he loosed skewered the bandit through the throat, and he died gurgling on his own blood as the legionary reached his cover.

  The world stood still for a moment, Vitus could feel the shock emanating from the group that faced them, even if he couldn’t see them. He spoke in a loud and commanding voice that imitated every battlefield centurion he had ever heard. “I have a question for you all. Is this man worth your lives?”

  The leader began to answer, and Vitus cut him off before he could speak again.

  “I don’t know what has brought you to this place, but it need not bring you to your deaths today. Your friend is dead. He died choking on his own blood, and it took one arrow. We are fighting men of Rome, not travellers or merchants. You have bitten off more than you can swallow, and I make this offer only once. Lay down your weapons and run. I will not ask you to surrender to us, just run away.”

  A new voice shouted to him, “Two of us are badly hurt. We need horses to get them help. One is my brother, and I can’t leave him.”

  Lucia shouted out at this and when she did, Vitus wondered how he could have been so slow on the uptake. “When were they bitten?”

  The leader spoke up again, “Don’t you dare say one more word, David.”

  The second voice, David, cut him off. “Shut up! I’m fed up of with taking orders from you.

  “You promised us a better life but all we do is steal and kill. You have got more of us killed than we ever lost in the mines.” There was a moment of silence and then he continued, speaking to Lucia and Vitus.

  “Last night. We've seen the things that bit them. The two of them were out last night doing a patrol, and they were attacked. We don’t know what to do for them. They’re getting sicker, and nothing we do is helping.”

  Vitus shouted, “There is nothing you can do but put your brother out of his misery. The bite he suffered will turn him into one of the things that bit him. It’s only a matter of time.”

  The leader spoke up again, “I’ve told you to shut up. They have men coming in behind us, and you need to stop listening to him.”

  The second man shouted, “I’ve told you, I’ve had enough of listening to you. What help have you been? All we’ve done since we followed you is kill and die, and I can’t do it anymore.”

  He shouted to Vitus, “Can I trust you?”

  “I can’t help your brother. I can promise you that if you surrender now, we will let you go,” Vitus said honestly.

  It didn’t take long for the man behind the voice to think about this proposition. He slowly stood up from his hiding place, halfway up the valley slope. His hands were out away from his body to show he wasn’t holding a weapon. He looked thin and dirty. This was a man who hadn’t seen a decent meal for some time. Almost at the same moment, Antonius stood and pulled another man to his feet.

  “I think this is the leader, sir.” He held a scrawny, dirty looking man by the scruff of his neck. The man was struggling to make his toes touch the floor because Antonius was holding him so high.

  “I think it's time for the rest of you to show your faces,” shouted Vitus.

  Two more men stood up, taking their lead from the first and putting their hands where they could be seen. Before too long, they had all made their way to the bottom of the slope.

  Lucia was tending to the wounded legionary. The arrow had pierced the flesh of his thigh, but had done little real damage to the muscle. He still had to have the arrow snapped and removed before his leg could be bound. He stared in anger at the leader of the bandits while she worked on him.

  Vitus lined up the bandits on their knees in front of him. They had their hands behind th
eir heads and pitiful looks on their faces. The leader however, had a scowl of defiance that Vitus felt like backhanding off his face after the trouble he had caused.

  “I presume you’re escaped slaves,” it wasn't a question. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now?” He spoke to the leader of the group.

  “Because you gave your word that we wouldn’t be harmed.” The leader almost spat the words at Vitus.

  “I told you, if you surrendered that you wouldn’t be harmed. These men did, you didn’t.”

  A look of fear flashed across the man's eyes that Vitus was more than pleased to see. He had no time to deal with these bandits in the proper way, he turned to the man whose brother was bitten.

  “What is your name?”

  “My master at the mines called me David, it's as good a name as any.”

  “If I let you walk out of here, where will you go and what will you do?” The answer to this question would determine whether Vitus could leave him alive when he left the foothills.

  “I will try to find help for my brother and our friend, they are really sick but I have to try.”

  Vitus held up a hand to the man. “No, what you need to do is put a dagger through your brother's skull. I mean it. He will only get worse and suffer, and then when he finally dies, he will come back as one of the monsters that bit him. It’s inevitable.”

  The man's head sank. Vitus could see he was hearing words he knew to be true.

  “Then it seems I will get my brother drunk on the last of our wine and see him to our ancestors as best I can. I curse those creatures back to Hades, for that is surely where they came from.”

  Vitus reached down and held out a hand to the man. David took it and got to his feet.

  “Go now. Do what needs to be done. Time is not on your side, and he will be harder to kill if he turns before you can stop it. The same for the other man, too.”

  He turned to the rest of the men. “As for the rest of you, will you follow this piece of shit?” He pointed to the leader, who kneeled with his head bowed. There was a general murmuring and some shaking of heads.

  “You have the chance to redeem yourselves and regain some honour. Go and warn the towns and villages to the south of here. Tell them about the Risen and what they do. You may be able to save a few lives in exchange for those you have taken in these hills.”

  The men looked at each other and then slowly began to back away, getting to their feet. Vitus stood impassive and watched them go. As soon as they were far enough away to dare to talk, one turned and asked. “What about our weapons?”

  Vitus barked a short bitter laugh at the man. “You are lucky to be leaving with your lives. On another day, I would have taken the time to make you dig your own graves before I put you all to death. Fuck off before I decide to do it anyway.”

  The man spat on the ground before he turned and jogged to catch up with his friends.

  The bandit leader made a forlorn figure as he knelt, alone among the legionaries. Lucia came over with the injured legionary leaning on her shoulder. His wound was dressed and he looked well enough to continue the journey. Vitus gestured to him and then to the man knelt on the ground.

  The legionary smiled and drew his gladius from its sheath. The man on his knees began scrabbling backwards, muttering under his breath, holding a hand out in front of him as if it could ward off a blade.

  The legionary limped after him, then used his injured leg to kick the man to the ground before planting his foot on the man's chest. He took his blade, and almost gently sliced the edge into the bandit's throat.

  Blood poured out in deep, red, pulsing gushes. The bandit gurgled and clutched at the wound, but his life seeped through his fingers and onto the grass of the foothills. He twitched a couple of times and then died.

  They gathered their horses and left the body for the mountain scavengers. As they made their way out of the foothills Vitus was sure he saw the men he had released, hiding back from the road. He didn’t acknowledge them as they passed. That night they camped around a larger than usual fire and posted an extra guard for the night but trouble wasn't looking for them.

  The following days were free of sightings of the Risen and Vitus began to hope that the Alps could act as a barrier, slowing down the horde long enough for Rome to be able to protect Italy from them. The speed at which they had swept across Germania meant that swift action was essential, but it could be done.

  The journey into the capital would be a simple one, compared to what had come before. The road to Rome was a straight one, and their small group should still be big enough to deter all but the most desperate roadside robbers.

  The real job would begin in Rome. Could he really persuade The Senate, and even The Emperor, of the existence of an army of the dead?

  The closer he got to the capital, the more insane his mission seemed. He looked at Lucia. She had never met her uncle, yet she would have to persuade him to walk into the seat of Roman power and talk of monsters.

  Why on Earth had Governor Clemens dreamed that he, Vitus Protus, a man who until a couple of weeks ago was a rank and file archer, could do this thing?

  He should be back in Germania, fighting the Risen and waiting for reinforcements. Not marching into Rome, a city he knew only from childhood visits, with so much at stake. He lay his head down, and his heart was heavy indeed.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Servilia could barely suppress the glee she felt at the curiosity in her guests eyes as they stared at the crate that held her new prize. She had deliberately not mentioned it, knowing that its very presence was enough to pique the interest of the other ladies in the room.

  As the wine began to flow the gazes became less and less guarded, until she was sure one of them must ask her what it was. They’d surprised her somewhat with the restraint they had showed so far however. Far from disappointed, she was getting happier by the minute as she felt the anticipation rise.

  They had all known her long enough to know that the crate was there as a party treat. In the past, she had given them gladiators to fight and die for them, and of course fuck them afterwards. She had brought them resins from the East, that when smoked, befuddled the senses and made the body float.

  Once she had found a woman in Rome who took plaster casts of the male members of all the famous and powerful men she had slept with. She swore it was a tradition started by her grandmother, and that she had a cast of Julius Caesar himself.

  At great cost, Servilia had persuaded the woman to allow her to have bronze casts of the thing made for all her ladies. She was fairly sure not one of them had told their husbands about their new toys.

  Servilia walked out into the courtyard and stood looking at her husband's latest obsession. A fish pond full of admittedly handsome specimens that had cost almost as much as the villa they resided in.

  He spent thousands of Aureus buying the fish and transporting them here. They were, he said, a throwback to the powerful men of the Republic who had spent years of their lives gathering more and more opulent collections. She had to admit they were beautiful in their way. If only he looked at her like he looked at those fish, they might be happy together.

  She sipped a rather fine glass of wine as she watched the fish swim lazily among the plants and rocks. The night was the first really warm one of the year, and it actually made her glad not to be in Rome for a change.

  The capital could become so claustrophobic and close when the Summer arrived. Nearly a million people couldn't live so close together and not end up living in their own waste and filth. Luckily she had people to visit such places for her, but the smell of the city still encroached on even the most exclusive areas in the hot months.

  A soft, sophisticated voice spoke behind her, and Servilia fixed a smile on her face before turning to Fulvia.

  “The ladies are almost dying with curiosity, Servilia. I’ve been nominated to ask you what is in that monstrously industrial wooden crate inside.

  “What little, or should
I say from the size, large treat do you have for us this evening?” Fulvia smiled conspiratorially at Servilia, as if she wouldn’t have dreamed of asking unless she had been forced to.

  Servilia shook her head with a grin, “Not yet, Fulvia. The birds will have to chirp among themselves a little longer, I’m afraid.

  “This one is going to need the ladies a little more lubricated by wine before I unveil it. It’s not the usual fair of sex and titillation, you see. I have a feeling that even the gods may be a little shocked by what I have in that box.”

  Fulvia turned her head and looked at Servilia out of the corner of her eye.

  “You really are wicked, Servilia. Fine, I’ll play along a little longer. Did I see one of your slaves carrying a tray of that resin I so like?”

  “There is some about somewhere, I’m sure. I’ll have some fetched over.”

  She called to the nearest slave girl who skittered off and returned with a silver tray complete with everything Fulvia would need. They sat on the edge of the fish pond and partook in the finest Eastern delights.

  After a few minutes, and as her head began to clear a little, Servilia turned to Fulvia.

  “I’m actually surprised to see you here, darling. Weren’t you going back to Rome with that young, new husband of yours?”

  “You know I was, but I changed my mind after I heard about the trouble. It seems the whole place is in a real twist and I really couldn’t be bothered with all the stress. I think I might just stay out here for a few more weeks. You have heard, I take it?”

  “I can’t say that I have,” said Servilia, though it killed her to be given news of Rome, especially from Fulvia. “There’s always something, what is it now?”