Infinite Courage

by J. Clifton Slater

  While his two Legionaries attacked the last militiaman, Alerio stalked towards the officer.

  “Captain Cheir. If you’ll walk over to me, we can duel like men,” proposed the Legion NCO.

  As much as Alerio wanted to offer Cheir a chance to surrender, the favor requested by the Golden Valley assassin didn’t allow for the alternative. The organization really didn’t ask for favors. Requesting the death of Cheir was a polite way to soften the reality of ordering a public murder.

  By offering to fight one on one, Alerio gave the illusion that the officer had a chance. In reality, Corporal Sisera harbored no doubt that he could easily execute the Captain.

  “I have coins and influence,” Cheir suggested. “Let me walk out and when this is over, you’ll be a very rich man.”

  And become another rich man to die in his sleep with the help of a Golden Valley assassin, Alerio thought.

  “Sorry, sir. Your choices are blades and a stroll over my dead body. Or dying. Those are the only way you’re leaving this warehouse,” Alerio replied. “And no amount of coins or influence can change your path.”

  Rather than be trapped against a barred door, Cheir ran around a stack of vases. Using other piles of pottery to slow down the Legionary, the militia officer raced between the ceramic stacks trying to find a route to the ramp.

  While he ran, voices of men working an evening shift cried out.

  “Be careful,” they shouted. “Leave now. Please. Stop this madness.”

  Alerio heard them and assumed they were attempting to beg for the Centuripe officer’s freedom. Ignoring their pleas, he vaulted onto a tabletop. His feet kicked vases off as he slid to the other side. Jumping down, he landed on a heap of splintered pottery.

  “Stop you maniac,” the workmen cried.

  But Alerio refused to give up and let the Captain go. Seeing Cheir push through the workmen, the Legion NCO raced after him. The men reared back when Alerio waved the gladii as he threaded between them.

  “Enough! For the love of Athena, stop this barbaric act,” the workmen pleaded.

  Alerio caught up with the Captain in a corner of the building. On the other side of a tall pile of vases, Cheir stood with his sword extended.

  “If I throw down my sword, what can I expect?” he demanded.

  “You will be put down, immediately,” Alerio informed him. “We’re outmanned until the Legion arrives. I’ve no men to spare to guard a prisoner.”

  “But if I kill you, I can walk away and join my men in defending the city.”

  Without replying, Corporal Sisera swung both gladii at the barricade of vases. The decorative and thin sided ceramics exploded, the mound of vases shattered, and Alerio stepped through the broken clay containers. Kicking the ruined pieces away, he shuffled towards Captain Cheir.

  Their blades clashed and the ringing of steel drowned out the weeping and howling of the workmen.

  Alerio carved a deep gash in the officer’s chest plate. Cheir attempted to back away to give him room to duel but the Legion NCO crowded forward. Slashing with both gladii, Alerio beat down the sword and once it was out of place, he drew the tip of a gladius across Cheir’s neck. The Centuripe Captain fell back and crashed into a stack of pottery. Ceramics shattered as the blood and life drained from the officer.

  The workmen took Cheir’s death hard. Their wailing reached an epic volume.

  ***

  “We should get out of here,” Alerio suggested to Private Ottone.

  Ottone was wrapping a piece of cloth around Tatis’ arm as their Corporal approached. Alerio pointed to the bloody arm.

  “How bad?”

  “It’ll heal, Tesserarius,” Tatis stated. “Orders?”

  “We’re five blocks and downhill from the barracks,” Alerio replied. “It shouldn’t be a problem if the Centuripe military is still in the lower city.”

  “And if they’re not?” Ottone asked.

  “Then we have a problem,” Alerio informed the Legionary. “Come on. We won’t know until we look outside.”

  Corporal Sisera took the lead and guided the infantrymen up the ramp. Behind them, the craftsmen and workers collapsed to the floor and, in the midst of the broken pieces of vase, they cried and moaned the loss of Captain Cheir. The Legionaries ignored the lamentations of the workmen while they crossed to the front of the pottery factory.

  ***

  Tatis stumbled and the Corporal caught him around the waist. Then, Alerio’s hand felt moisture on the man’s clothing.

  “Go check the street,” Alerio directed Ottone. He rested the injured Private against one of the long tables to stabilize him. “Let me check your wound.”

  “It’s bandaged,” Tatis assured his Corporal. He waved his arm in front of Alerio’s face.

  “I’m talking about your side, not your forearm,” Alerio said as he untied the woolen trousers. Then, while probing the Legionary’s side, his fingers dipped into a gash.

  “Hades, Tesserarius,” Tatis protested. “that hurts.”

  A mystery to all Legionaries was why a cut on a finger hurt more than being cleaved open like a slab of meat. But here was proof, Tatis’ more severe injury sat unannounced while his arm was wrapped.

  “You’ve been opened up like a sacrificial goat.”

  “I didn’t feel it before. But now, I’m receiving the attention of Algea.”

  “You know what they say about the Goddess of Pain?”

  “Yes, Corporal. If you can feel her touch, you’re alive.”

  “Maybe not for long,” Ottone offered as he walked back from the front of the factory. “The militia is staging men right in front of the building. I wouldn’t be surprised if we didn’t have visitors soon.”

  “We might be able to sneak through if we leave now,” Tatis recommended. “But it’ll require a sprint to the barracks if we’re spotted.”

  “Private Tatis, you are in no shape for an uphill jog,” Alerio advised. “Let alone a foot race.”

  ***

  After knotting a piece of his robe around Tatis’ waist, Corporal Sisera rushed to the east wall of the factory. There he located a ladder and an opening in the roof.

  “Ottone, help Tatis up. You two take to the roofs and make your way towards the barracks,” Alerio ordered. “I’ll stay here and keep the soldiers busy. Hopefully, they won’t realize we’re escaping that way.”

  “What do you mean we?” questioned Ottone. “It seems like Tatis and I are escaping while you’re still here, Tesserarius.”

  “I’ll be along shortly,” Alerio assured him. “I don’t plan on dying on the gritty floor in a factory that smells of clay.”

  Tatis struggled up the ladder. Under him, Ottone gave the wounded man support with a push of a hand. When they vanished through the opening, Alerio moved to the front of the factory and peered through the shutters. On the street, armored soldiers were forming ranks.

  Alerio expected a couple of squads or less to assault the building. When forty men turned to face the façade, he realized that the odds of dying in the clay dust was closer than he suggested to Ottone. With the threat of facing overwhelming odds, the Legion NCO put away his gladii, spun away from the shutters, and ran for the ladder.

  ***

  On his knees, Alerio leaned through the opening and hacked at the top rungs. It wouldn’t slow the soldiers down for long, but it would delay them until they found a replacement ladder. Once he inflicted as much damage on the wood as he could from the awkward position, he pushed the rails with the broken rungs over. The ladder toppled over and crashed onto a tableful of pottery.

  Moving the short distance to the end of the roof, Alerio faced the shoulder-high wall of the neighboring building. Thankfully, there was no sign of Ottone or Tatis. Gripping the top of the wall, he pulled up while swinging his legs to the side. Once a foot had purchase, Alerio vaulted to the roof of the next building.

  He was up on his feet and two steps from the wall when ladders tapped against the edge of the hole i
n the factory’s roof. Soon militiamen climbed up, clustered together, and began seeking an enemy. Unfortunately, the Legion Corporal didn’t drop below the line of sight before he was seen and cries of discovery went out. With no chance of stealth, Alerio sprinted across the roof, reached the next building, and climbed up. Then his heart sank. Across the expanse, he spotted Ottone hoisting an almost limp Tatis over the next wall.

  With soldiers closing from behind and his men struggling to stay ahead, Corporal Sisera reached over his shoulders, gripped the hilts, and drew his gladii. Then he ran to the wall, climbed up, and turned to face the lower building.

  “Tesserarius, you made it,” Ottone called from over his shoulder.

  The infantryman had an arm around the waist of his companion. Together, they struggled across the roof heading for the next wall.

  “Not yet,” Alerio replied. “Keep moving.”

  Ten Centuripe helmets appeared over the far wall, then ten soldiers climbed up on the lower building’s roof. A glance back revealed that Ottone and Tatis were close to the next building. Alerio moved back from the edge and squatted down so he wasn’t visible from the lower roof.

  When the ten helmets approached the drop-off, Alerio leaped forward, leaned over, and hacked at two necks before the threat of Centuripe spears drove him back. Twisting away, the Corporal rose up and ran hard for the next wall.

  He didn’t see the two Legionaries. Free of having to defend them on this level, Alerio jumped, flew through the air, and impacted the top of the next wall with his stomach. A flip of his legs rolled him onto the roof. Another kick and he leaped to his feet, then froze.

  Twenty sets of Centuripe armor, helmets, shields, and the tips of spears were lined up facing him. Not sure or caring how the soldiers got in front of him, Alerio sank into a fighting stance and positioned his blades.

  “You want to move out of our way, Tesserarius?” Lance Corporal Stulte inquired.

  It took a heartbeat before Alerio recognized the voice of the squad leader from the 9th Squad.

  “How did you get here?”

  “5th and 7th Squads have archery duty on the roof of the barracks,” Stulte replied. “Thanks to Caricini Aternus’ gift from Theia, he saw Ottone, Tatis, and you crossing the roofs. Optio Gustavi sent us over to see if you needed help.”

  “I believe I do, Lance Corporal Stulte.”

  “In that case, Corporal Sisera, step aside,” Stulte directed. Then he ordered. “Squads, attack formation.”

  Alerio jumped to the side and the first eight Legionaries leaped off the edge. Following closely behind them, the next squad hopped down and formed a second line. While the Legionaries advanced into the Centuripe soldiers, Alerio went to find Ottone and help him get Tatis down to street level and across to the barracks.

  Chapter 22 – An Honorable Day

  “We have five men with minor wounds and ten more with serious injuries, sir,” Gustavi reported.

  A pained expression passed over Centurion Megellus’ face. He hid the look by lifting a mug to his lips and taking a sip of wine.

  “Very good, Optio. Have we removed the lookouts from the hill?” asked the officer.

  “No, sir. Our squads are just securing the last rooms in the barracks,” the Sergeant replied.

  As if to punctuated the statement, four young Latians rushed into the room and ran to a man in a gold trimmed robe. Each had visible bruises and ripped and soiled clothing.

  “Ambassador, you’re safe?” one of the young men exclaimed.

  “I am now that the Legion has arrived,” Octavius Sergius stated. Then, the Ambassador informed Megellus. “My staff is here. We are ready to leave Centuripe.”

  The expression of tension passed over the infantry officer’s face again and he concentrated on replacing it with a blank look.

  “Master Sergius, as I’ve explained before, we are only a heavy infantry Century,” Megellus started to say but the Ambassador cut him off.

  “I don’t care about your problems, Centurion,” Octavius Sergius barked. “I have been an unwelcome and unwilling guest here for three weeks. It’s high time I returned to the Capital and made my report to the Senate. Assign my personal bodyguards and let’s get on the road.”

  “Sir, I have fifteen wounded Legionaries,” Megellus began to explain but he was interrupted by the arrival of his Tesserarius.

  Alerio strutted in and, without context, responded to his officer’s words, “Plus, Private Tatis, sir. He’s cut up pretty bad.”

  “Corporal Sisera, where have you been?” the Centurion demanded.

  “I saw a Centuripe officer run away from the barracks and chased him down, sir,” Alerio reported.

  “His name?” Sergius questioned.

  Alerio noted the rich clothing, the stiff mannerisms of the man, and his Centurion’s braced posture. Just to be safe, he answered with an honorific.

  “Captain Cheir, sir,” Alerio said.

  “And where is Cheir?” Sergius inquired.

  “He is dead, sir.”

  “That puts things in a different light,” Sergius announced to the room. “Send a runner for Councilman Grapho. We must meet as soon as possible.”

  “Ambassador. As I’ve been trying to explain, we are an advance unit sent to free and protect you,” Megellus related. “It’s late at night, my men are exhausted, and the Centuripe military is staging for an attack. Might I suggest you rest and we’ll take up the conversation in the morning?”

  The Centurion wanted to add; if we’re alive and still in control of the barracks in the morning, but didn’t.

  Sergius crossed his arms and glanced around at his scruffy staff. After several heartbeats, he indicated a collection of couches in the corner of the room.

  “Come, we’ll talk about your experiences of captivity,” the Ambassador suggested. “Then you can go, clean up, and make yourselves presentable.”

  Megellus followed them to the seating area. Once the diplomat and his staff were positioned on sofas, the Centurion asked, “Ambassador. Before the news about the Captain’s death, you seemed to be in a rush to leave. Now you’re planning meetings. What changed?”

  “I do not like explaining my decisions to mere infantry officers, Megellus. But this one time, I will. Captain Cheir and General Periander of the militia are the leaders of the rebellion,” Sergius answered. “With the Captain dead, it negates his political and economic influence. I believe from here on, Centuripe and the Republic can reach accords.”

  Across the room, the Sergeant turned to Alerio.

  “Sisera. The compound is taken. All that remains is the Centuripe military watchers on the hill,” Gustavi stated. “Take a squad and remove them.”

  “Yes, Optio,” Alerio stated.

  At the mention of the barracks being under the control of his men, Centurion Megellus allowed a smile to grace his face. Even if the Ambassador didn’t appreciate the work of his Squads, or respect his leadership qualities, the 25th Century had successfully completed a tough mission. Unexpectedly, for the construction professional, Fenoris Megellus felt a sense of military pride in the accomplishment.

  ***

  “I miss my own armor,” Pentri Umbria complained in a muffled voice.

  “We all do, Lance Corporal,” Alerio added, also speaking in hushed tones.

  High above them, a small structure reflected the moonlight while the Legionaries on the path sweated in the unfamiliar armor. It wasn’t the armor or the climb causing the nervous responses. The anxiety came from the arrows shot at them from the top of the mammoth hill. Their voices muted because their faces were buried in the backs of the militia shields.

  The 6th Squad had made it halfway up the serpentine trail before the Centuripe soldiers unleashed a barrage. Two Legionaries went down with arrow wounds. After checking on the seriousness of their injuries, Corporal Sisera ordered them left behind. He couldn’t spare the men to carry the wounded down to the barracks. They would be uncomfortable, but both would live. By
firing of the arrows, the militia archers sealed the fate of every soldier in the lookout bunker.

  Nearer the summit, Alerio’s shield picked up two arrows. Using his blade, he hacked off most of the arrows leaving two stubby shafts jutting from the face. A few steps later, he tossed away the shield and drew both gladii.

  “Give me a four-shield front,” he directed. “Everyone else, tuck in and stay tight.”

  Behind the overlapping shields, the Tesserarius and the remaining six members of 6th Squad attacked up the final rise.

  ***

  From the platform, Alerio peered down into the Symaethus Valley. The landscape was dark except for the fires in the Centuripe military camp. Counting campfires and guessing, the Legion Corporal estimated the army fielded about two thousand men. The Crassus Legion North had more in heavy infantrymen.

  He sat on the brickwork until the sky lightened and his view of the valley extended beyond the campfires. A dark line appeared against the lighter colored sand and gravel of the river bank. Studying the moving line as the sun rose, Corporal Sisera finally made out individual shapes. Looking the other way, he peered down at Centuripe. From the heights, he could see the twisting and turning upper roads and movement behind the buildings on either side of the barracks.

  “Lance Corporal Umbria. I’m going to report to the Optio,” Alerio declared as he hopped off the wall. “Get your wounded to the medical area and report to him for orders.”

  Alerio rushed as much as was safe while descending the steep slope. His only stopped twice. One was to grab the shield he had discarded. It stopped two arrows from reaching his body and Alerio held great affection for the shield. He also checked on his wounded Legionaries. After a few words, and assurances they weren’t bleeding out, he continued to the barracks.

  Crassus Legion North was still a long way off. Between the march, and setting up the defensive camp, the 25th Century wouldn’t get relieved until sometime tomorrow or the day after.

  Even so, Centurion Megellus would want the news about the Legion as soon as possible. And there was the defense of the compound. Optio Gustavi needed to know the militia was massing for an assault.