The Kin
Page 66
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They emerged from the darkness like a silent army. Some were on horses, but the rest were a mixture of soldiers and civilians from the settlement. Marius and the soldiers defending the fort watched from the battlements with a growing sense of dread.
“What do we do?” Celer asked. “They look like normal people.”
Marius shook his head, watching the thickset man on a grey horse who seemed to be the leader. “You know they’re not. We need to strike first. Get Commander Auticus up here.”
Celer nodded and gave the order to another man, who raced away down the battlements. Moments later, the acting commander of Salinae stood next to him.
“That man out there on the grey horse. Is he, or was he ever, the prefect here?”
The younger man peered into the night and nodded. “Yes, sir, that’s… I mean that was Prefect Felix.”
Marius nodded. He called to a young Thracian standing with his bow notched and ready. “See that man? That was your commander, but he’s dead now. You saw what they are. Time to put a good man out of his misery. Fire your arrow, lad. Get him right in the heart.”
The boy looked doubtfully at him, then at Auticus, who nodded silently.
“Go on,” Marius urged him. “Let us see what we’re up against tonight.”
The lad gulped then lifted the bow and took aim. Seconds later, the arrow sped through the air and sliced into the unprotected body of the Kin commander. He let out a scream and the horse reared up; by the time it had landed again, the shaft had penetrated the Kin’s heart and the commander had become a pile of bones and ashes, which fell silently onto the ground. Immediately, the night was filled with the blood-curdling screams of the Kin as they threw their heads back and shrieked their loss into the night.
The men around Marius flinched and muttered. “I agree, it does get annoying eventually, but I like to think of it as a record of kills.”
The men laughed, but glanced anxiously at each other. Marius remained staring at the Kin, who seemed in no hurry to move. Come on, he thought. Let’s get this thing started.
He waited a few more moments then gave the command to begin their defence. “Start firing,” Marius told the men around him. “Use the arrows and when they get closer throw the pila” His orders travelled along the battlements and within moments, the night was alive with missiles and the shrieks of the Kin. Marius grinned. This was more like it.
In response, the creatures outside the fort transformed and raced towards them, seemingly oblivious to the weapons. But moments later they disappeared under the cover of the first buildings of the vicus and it became impossible to hit them except for a few who ran down the main street.
“Get ready,” Marius shouted. “Send the word. They’ll be coming from every side. Don’t let them climb up.”
As he said that, the first of the Kin burst out of the shadows of the nearest house and began to clamber up the wall. These were joined by others, whose skeletal limbs glowed in the light and their red eyes blazed with anger as they glared up at the men on the ramparts.
Marius could see that they were using their claws to gain purchase on the wooden walls, but that would make them vulnerable and defenceless when a stake was thrust down. He grabbed one from the nearest stack and waited until one of the Kin was drawing level with the barrier then thrust it straight into its heart. Instantly the creature was gone, and the usual shriek went up from the others. Without thinking, the men on the ramparts took advantage and threw their pila at the shrieking and exposed Kin. In that one moment at least fifteen of them ceased to exist.
But it was a tricky strategy. They were leaving it to the last moment to kill them; if anyone missed, then the Kin would be inside. They wouldn’t last long, but Marius wasn’t ready to take the chance. He glanced at Celer and gave the order for the fire arrows to be used.
Soon the night was filled with shrieks of pain and anger, as Kin after Kin went up in flames and fell to the floor as dust. But still they kept coming. Every inch of the battlements was under threat and the soldiers of the XIII Gemina fought side by side with the Thracians, who proved to be as brave as they were ruthless. Occasionally, an arrow from a Thracian Kin found a victim, but the men on the ramparts used shields so few fell to these sporadic missiles.
It was Auticus who saw their next attack. He ran through the ordered fighting on the battlements to Marius and pointed down the main street. There, coming up towards the gate of the fortress, was a huge battering ram carried by ten male Kin.
“Let them get close,” Marius instructed. He’d been in siege situations before but not in charge, though he was finding command seemed to be coming naturally to him. But he was simply doing what he’d seen his superiors do in the past and when faced with a new situation, he tried to think about what they would’ve done. He wished that Junius was still here with him. The young Roman would have offered invaluable counsel and he’d have known what these creatures were planning. Marius wondered where he was. Was he watching somewhere and shouting out advice and muttering to himself as if it was a training match? He didn’t know, but right now he wanted his friend here with him, whether he could trust him or not.
As the ram came closer, Marius gave the order and the Thracian archers fired down and wiped out the entourage in one round of arrows. The wood fell harmlessly to the floor. That was another emergency dealt with.
Celer grinned. “They’re pretty stupid, aren’t they?”
“But they learn. They’ll be back,” Marius warned.
Sure enough, only a few moments later, several more approached, but this time they were under the cover of their shields. Marius frowned. They would be impossible to hit like that.
“What do we do?” Celer asked, the fear making his voice high.
Marius didn’t say anything. It was a classic Roman ruse. He should have expected this; these men had fought with the Roman legions. It wasn’t Junius this time leading an army, they were all experienced soldiers. He leant against the barrier and rested his chin on the steeple of his hands. Think, he told himself. You’ve got to think.
He knew that Celer and several other men were standing anxiously around waiting for his order. Sometimes, when on campaign, Junius had read out loud to him about famous battles and inspirational commanders. He remembered hearing about one such tale in a tent in Syria, so he tried to cast his mind back, and for a moment he could almost hear the specially trained voice Junius had been taught to use for public speaking. The memory flashed into his mind and he grinned; another emergency was averted.
“Pitch,” he told them pulling himself upright and turning to the men, well aware of the incredulous looks on their faces. “We’ll pour pitch over them and set the whole thing alight.” Comprehension dawned and several men raced off to find a suitable container from which to pour the pitch.