Legion of the Undead

by Michael Whitehead

  Ursus looked confused, but still stood to attention and only asked, “Sir?”

  “Ursus, I’m emperor now, which means I need a praetorian prefect.” Otho said with a smile.

  “Sir,” Ursus answered, with the trace of a smile on his lips.

  “Do you know anyone who is up to the job?” Otho asked, and then burst into laughter at his own joke. Before giving Ursus time to answer, he continued.

  “I jest of course, Prefect Ursus. You have served me well for many years, and you have earned your place at my side. Just one thing though, Prefect.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ursus answered, still standing to attention.

  “Can I trust you? I believe the last praetorian prefect did something a little surprising.” He burst into laughter again, and this time Ursus had the sense to join in.

  “Sir, I think you can trust me well enough,” Ursus said, relaxing.

  “I hope so, Prefect, I really do,” Otho said, snapping out of his good humour and speaking with malice.

  Before Ursus had time to react to the change in manner, Otho relaxed again, and motioned for Ursus to sit on the couch opposite his own.

  The prefect sat, looking completely out of place in his full armour on such a dainty piece of furniture.

  “It’s time to clean the streets, Prefect. Are you ready?” Otho asked.

  “Yes, sir. Everything is in place. The men all know their places, and the traps are ready. I think we should be able to capture a fair few of the Risen and destroy the rest easily enough.”

  “That’s excellent, Ursus. I knew I could count on you. How long do you think it will take?” Otho said, leaning forward and taking up his glass. He had not offered Ursus a drink, the man had a job to do.

  “The reports are saying that the dead are gathering in large groups, sir. I have reordered the men to make sure they will always outnumber the largest of these groups.

  “It should make it easier to gather them up if they are already grouping together. I would say a day and the job will be done.”

  “Perfect. Make plenty of noise while you are doing it, as well. I want the people to know who it was that up cleaned this mess. They need to know that it was me that saved them.”

  Ursus stood and saluted the new emperor. He left, his sandals clacking loudly on the marble floor. As he exited the room, Otho heard him start to give orders. Soon the sounds of troops being readied for battle could be heard through the open palace windows. Otho took a deep breath and folded his hands behind his head, content.

  “It’s good to see you safe and well, Garic,” Vitus said, with a firm hand on the butcher's shoulder.

  The man looked worn out but he had a look of determination on his face that Vitus could appreciate. He had seen things today that civilians rarely saw, death and destruction. The man was used to the sight of blood, but that didn’t mean he could easily become a killer.

  “I’m pleased to see you as well, Vitus my friend,” Garic said with a wary smile. “It would be hard for me to repay my debt to you if you weren’t still in one piece. Twice now, you have saved my life.”

  “It was nothing. My men, the two big lugs that you followed into this mess, speak very highly of you. It’s no small thing to impress a legionary. I have to ask, where are your family?” Vitus enquired.

  “At home, my wife is not taking all of this very well. I hope to get back to them soon.

  “I was going crazy when I saw these men fighting the creatures. I left on the spur of the moment and I am now wondering if I did the right thing.”

  Garic looked worried, and Vitus wished he could reassure the butcher that it would all work out well. They were both grown men, however, and such tales were for children.

  “If this all goes to plan, there should be troops on the streets by tonight. The city could be safe sooner than you think.

  “As soon as they have been cleared, I will accompany you home to see if they are safe. Until then, I hear there is food and drink being prepared.”

  The butcher smiled at this, his round face relaxed a little and Vitus moved on to check on the rest of the house. The noises of the Risen could be heard outside every window, scratching and banging.

  He checked in on Regulus, who was looking stronger every time he saw him. Lucia was by the bedside, and Vitus was glad to see a dagger was tucked into the belt of her tunic.

  There was a scream from the groundfloor, loud and female. Vitus spun on his heels and was heading down the stairs two at a time.

  He passed a young girl who was running blindly along the hallway. There was a commotion from the culina at the back of the house.

  He rounded the door to see Tatius in a violent struggle with a large, dead man. Two more were swinging into the open back door from above, while a third was running for the opening.

  Vitus stepped over the legionary and drew his sword. He lunged upwards at one of the attackers. His sword found its target and the body slumped to the ground outside the door.

  The second Risen dropped down in front of him. At that instant, the running Risen crashed into its back, and the three of them were sent sprawling further into the culina.

  They slid on the hard, smooth floor and came to rest against the far wall, in a tangle of limbs. Vitus thrashed and threw the Risen off him, trying to get free but the weight of two bodies was pinning him to the floor.

  He had a moment of pure panic, seeing in his mind's eye the fate of Antonius, before the weight lessened. First one, then the second of his attackers were lifted from him and Vitus looked up to see Gallus and Garic throwing the two dead things from him.

  Tatius had freed himself from his own danger and stepped forward, driving his blade into the skull of the nearest Risen. The second fared no better, as Gallus finished it with the trained efficiency of a legionary.

  The door was still open, and Vitus pointed wordlessly towards the opening as three more of the monsters ran to gain entry. The two legionaries stepped forward, swords ready.

  Garic held out his hand to Vitus and helped him to his feet. Then the big man turned to the door to see that the job was almost done. The three Risen were dead outside the door, and Gallus was closing it. There was a further crash, as something hit the outside but it held firm.

  The four men took a moment and steadied themselves before they turned back into the house. Vitus stepped into the hallway to see Fulvia holding a sobbing young lady in her arms, while the rest of the household looked on.

  “Go back to your posts, this isn’t over yet,” Vitus called to them and they slowly began to return to whichever room they were guarding.

  He kneeled down in front of the crying girl and asked her what had happened. She took a few seconds to recover herself and after a few deep breaths, she answered him.

  “It was Sylvia. She said she had seen a child outside and she had to save it. She opened the door. I tried to stop her, honestly I did.

  “They snatched her before she got three steps out of the door. Those things started coming. He saved my life.”

  She pointed at Tatius as she said this, the legionary stood panting but impassive. “I’m sorry mistress, I really am, I tried to stop her.” She began crying again, deep and agonised sobs that shook her whole body.

  Vitus left Fulvia to comfort the girl, while he went back into the culina. He checked the lock on the door again and this time removed the key. No-one would be allowed to make the same mistake again.

  It drove home to him how vulnerable these people were. They had been told they were in danger, but they didn’t really believe. Their ordered lives had not prepared them for a fight like this.

  The noises of the dead trying to break into the house continued and Vitus felt his heart fill with dread. These people weren’t capable of dealing with a threat like the Risen. Sooner or later, each of them would fall and there was nothing he could do about it.

  There was a crash from upstairs and more shouting. The men looked at each other before they sped up the stairway, pushing
an unfortunate young female slave to the floor in a rush to get past her.

  The sound of fighting was coming from the room opposite Regulus’ room. Vitus stepped into the doorway to see two of the men who had arrived with Garic fighting against three Risen. One of the men had been bitten on the upper arm but still swung his weapon with force.

  A female Risen was crawling on the floor, her leg broken from a vicious looking blade cut. She crept toward the second of the fighters, and would have grabbed him if Vitus hadn’t stepped between them and driven his blade into the back of her head.

  A second Risen was cleaved almost in two by a wild slice from the unbitten man. He backhanded his blade across the dead man's chest, causing a slop of blood and guts to fall to the bedroom floor.

  The Risen was only slowed for a second but it was enough for the man to return his blade across the Risen’s face and stop its hunger forever.

  The bitten man fought with abandon but slipped on the blood on the floor. He went down on one knee, and the Risen was on top of him before he could stand back up.

  The thing bit deep into the fleshy part of his shoulder. Vitus was about to use his blade to end the creature, when the man stood back up. The Risen was latched onto him and still biting when the man threw himself and the monster out of the window.

  Vitus was stunned for a second by what he had seen and then found his wits again.

  “Grab the bed, block the window!” He shouted to the two legionaries as they stepped past him into the room. The window, however, was clearing of the dead, no more creatures were attacking. They had heard the sound that now found Vitus’ ears

  The sound of marching feet came from outside, loud and distinctive. No-one who had spent time in the legions could mistake the rhythm of legionaries on the march.

  He rushed to the window to check outside. A couple of centuries of Praetorian guards were on the street, shields ready and swords drawn.

  His view was blocked momentarily by a monster detaching itself from the house and heading towards the new threat. The battle was brief and violent. In the end, the street was littered with the corpses of the Risen that had been attacking the house.

  The men reformed ranks and before setting off, they crashed their swords against their shields and let out an almighty battle cry. Vitus guessed their passing was meant to be seen by as many people as possible.

  With the street clear of the threat of the dead, the centuries moved on to the next. Across the city, similar units would be drawing out the Risen and ending them.

  The siege of Rome was being brought to a close, as casually as it had begun. A tyrant had started it, and a tyrant was ending it, and the people would love him for it. Behind him, the people in the house began to cheer.

  EPILOGUE

  Titus sat behind a large, dark wooden desk and stared at the box in front of him. The wooden side had been removed and the contents were visible.

  He seethed with every fibre of his being. The depths of Hades couldn’t possibly hold the darkness that filled his soul at that moment.

  He crashed his fist down on the top of the desk and the head in the box woke coming to life. Slick, black, blood-like liquid oozed from the wound that had once been its neck.

  Titus drank in every detail of the rotting face as it twitched and snarled up at him. He allowed the pain in him to fester and grow.

  He had returned to Rome from Greece at his father's request. The letter he had received had said he was to become Praetorian Prefect and learn to become emperor at his father's side.

  No other emperor had ever passed the empire to his son, and Titus had been honoured that his father had been ready to do such a thing.

  Now the filthy dog, Otho, had taken everything from him. His father lay dead, and the city was the playground of these creatures.

  Titus had read the letter, carried by the messenger who had risked her life to bring him the news. She was downstairs at this moment, being treated to anything she desired in payment.

  At first he had been sure it was untrue, his father couldn’t be dead. Titus was sure the old man would live forever. He had been told of the creatures, but would not believe. Then the messenger had produced the box, and Titus had seen the contents.

  The head had looked up at him and the dead eyes had looked into his soul. The severed head had done more to convince him of the truth than the words on the parchment could have done. The staff in his household had done well to send him proof, no matter how grotesque.

  It was a lot to take in, and Titus allowed it all to wash over him, drenching him in hatred and anger. He reached into the drawer of his desk and his hand found the handle of the dagger he kept there.

  He pulled out the weapon and stared at it, examining the grip, scabbard, and finally the blade. He held it in front of the eyes of the dismembered head on his desk.

  The creature ignored the blade, showing no sign of fear at all. Instead it looked past the metal point towards the fingers that held the knife. It had dead hunger in its eyes.

  Titus moved his hand back and forth in front of the face, it snapped its teeth lightly as he did it. The eyes never strayed from his living flesh.

  Without taking his gaze from the rotting face in front of him Titus took the blade and scored a line into the palm of his hand. Deep and quick, the pain was exquisite.

  The head saw the blood and started to thrash about on what remained of its neck muscles. Its mouth worked, snapping over and over, biting at thin air.

  Titus reached into the box and allowed his blood to drip onto the monstrous face in front of him. A line of blood flowed from the forehead, down the side of the rotting nose and into the creature's mouth. A black tongue flicked out and started catching the blood as it fell. Titus held his hand there and fed the creature with his life's blood, mesmerised.

  There was a loud knock on the door to his office and Titus woke from his trance. He clenched his fist to stem the flow of blood, as he called for whoever had knocked to come in.

  The door swung open and Janus stood framed in the opening. Military tribune and advisor, Janus was exactly who Titus wanted to see at this moment.

  He motioned for the tribune to sit, while he called for a slave to bring him a cloth to wrap his wounded hand. A young girl appeared almost straight away, carrying a white linen towel.

  Titus took the cloth and wrapped his bleeding hand with it. Janus saw the blood on the desk, and the box, but asked no questions. He had known Titus long enough to know when it was prudent to remain silent, this was obviously one of those times.

  “Have you seen the present I received from Rome this evening?” Titus asked.

  “I’ve heard about it, sir. I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing it first hand yet, no.” Janus answered.

  Titus turned the box towards Janus. Despite a valiant attempt, the man was unable to keep the disgust from his face.

  “Quite a shock, isn’t it? How much do you know?” Titus asked, before turning the box back towards him and sliding the panel back into place, hiding the creature from sight.

  “I know your father has been murdered, and I know who by, sir. I’m sorry, he was a great man, we all loved him.”

  Titus nodded but made no reply, allowing Janus the chance to continue.

  “I know those things have had free run of Rome for the last three days and the last I heard, Otho was finally cleaning up the mess he has caused. They are saying he has done it in the name of clearing the non-Romans from the senate.”

  Titus looked at Janus, the man was as succinct as always. It was one of the things he liked about him, never a word wasted.

  “That is the top and bottom of it, yes. He has control of the city, and I fear we are powerless to take it from him while the legions are in Greece.

  “I’m open to contradiction at this point, but I see no other course of action than to vanish for a while. If Otho knew I was already in residence here, I’m sure he would have sent men to kill me.

  “I can only assume he
thinks I’m still on the road. It is a small but vital advantage.” Titus paused and looked to Janus for the man's opinion.

  “That’s the situation as I see it. The weeks between now and the legions arriving back in Italy will give him time to turn the city into a fortress. We need to work with as much haste as we can muster. I assume word is already on its way to Greece?”

  “Of course, by a number of roads. I also have scouts heading north to assess the threat from these things,” he said, gesturing to the box on the desk.

  “Another important part of the puzzle. I have word that Otho has a number of the creatures inside the city. Is the man completely insane?” Janus asked.

  “Insane he may be, but he has taken Rome and the power that goes with it. He holds all the pieces, at least for a while. I see no other choice than to vanish from his sight until we can regroup.”

  “Reluctantly, I have to agree, sir. Shall I make the arrangements?” Janus asked.

  “Do so, yes Janus. This is only temporary, we will be back. We will have legions at our back and swords in our hands, and we will crush the rat who sits on my father's throne.”

  Janus stood up and saluted Titus. He left the office and Titus found himself alone, once more. He stepped out on to the balcony behind his desk. The air was fresh and clean away from the city and he drank it in. The coming weeks would be tough. He would be a constant target for Otho, if his whereabouts were not kept secret.

  After that, he would have a campaign to plan. Laying siege to a city like Rome would not be an easy task. Better men than him had tried. Titus stared out into the darkness and vowed an end to Otho.

  One way or another, there would only be one man standing at the end of what was to come, Titus would be that man, he swore it to the gods.

  Just the beginning

  Pirates

  By

  Michael

  Whitehead