Without a moment's hesitation Ursus reached in and grabbed the undead creature by the back of the neck. The legionary unhooked the rope and took a large step backward, never taking his eyes off the girl. Ursus reminded himself to punish the man for cowardice when this was all over.
Ursus held the face of the girl up to show Sergius. Their bloody faces were within inches of each other before Sergius showed his first real sign of fear and pulled back against his ropes. Ursus laughed, he dropped his arm and the girl dangled from his hand like a puppet. She clawed at him and Ursus reached down, taking each upper arm in his free hand he snapped the bones with his thumb. The noise was sickening but the child did not react, her arms dangling down like useless bits of meat.
“You know what comes next, Sergius. I’m about to give you a choice, do I hear what I want to hear and kill you cleanly? Or do you keep quiet and I let this little bitch bite you?”
“Go fuck yourself,” Sergius spat at him.
“You do talk then?” Ursus goaded the chained man.
“Do whatever you have to,” Sergius replied. “Emperor Titus will rip you from Rome and then rip out your heart. You’ve picked the wrong side and you don’t even know it.”
“So his men are calling him Emperor? How nice for him. It’s just a shame the rest of Rome are calling him traitor. Now answer my question. Does Titus know about the undead out there?”
Sergius thought about Priscus. If this man was right and they had caught five legionaries, then Priscus was the only chance that Titus would get any information about the undead and the tunnel. He hoped his friend had managed to escape, not just because Titus needed to know, but because he liked the man. He hadn’t asked for this but in the end he had stepped up and done what was right. Sergius had sent Alba back to Titus, directly from Priscus’ village, but how much stock would Titus put in hearsay? Sergius had to hope the information would get through.
“I’m getting tired of asking the same question, Sergius. Last chance. How much does Titus know about our plans here in Ostia?"
“I’ve given you my answer, go fuck yourself,” Sergius said through swollen lips. Ursus gritted his teeth to stop himself from losing control and shouting into the man’s face. It would do no good to let his men see him lose his cool. Instead he brought the broken rag-doll in his hand level with Sergius’ face once more.
“You asked for this,” he said through gritted teeth.
Before Ursus could bring the girl any closer, Sergius stretched out his neck and leaned forward on the chains. He exposed his flesh to the mouth of the girl in Ursus’ hand. Ursus was so shocked at the self-sacrifice that he almost withdrew his hand in reaction. There had always been men willing to take their own lives rather than betray a master or dishonour themselves but this was different. To willingly make yourself one of these monsters held a horror that was beyond comprehension.
The girl snapped forward with her teeth and bit deep into the chained man's throat. Gouts of blood escaped from between her teeth, and as she withdrew a tangle of flesh dangled from her mouth. Sergius made a gurgling, choked sound as blood drenched his chest and the floor below.
Ursus threw the girl into the corner of the room and was vaguely aware of one of his legionaries stabbing at it. He watched Sergius cough out the last of his blood and breath in a fine spray and fall forward against the chains. His knees almost reaching the floor in a kneeling posture.
Ursus turned to his men and saw the same pale, stunned expressions that he felt on his own face. Roman bravery could even surprise a fellow Roman, sometimes. Ursus turned to leave the room without another word but as he did he heard the first stirrings of the undead monster that Sergius had become. Ursus didn’t turn to look at the man, he had become just one more monster in a constant sea of monsters.
“What do you want us to do with him, sir?” one of the guards asked.
“Throw him in the cages with the rest,” Ursus answered. “Be quick about it, I don’t want him to miss the fun.”
Ursus made his way across to the cages and waited while the last of the Risen army was added to the ranks. The overhead hatch was locked and secured. He gave the nod to the centurions to pull the chains and release the cage doors. At first the Risen were tentative, still standing at the bars and trying to get at the legionaries who watched them from outside the bars. Then Ursus heard the screaming of the slave nearest the entrance of the tunnel. The sound attracted first one and then more of the Risen until, before long, there was a steady stream of undead heading down the tunnel, each following the one in front of them.
Ursus stood and watched them go past like sheep being herded into a pen. He saw Sergius pass by but the life and light had gone out of the man’s eyes. He no more saw Ursus than he saw the life he had once led. No recognition lit the creature's eyes as he passed the man who had killed him. He moved into the mouth of the tunnel and out of sight.
Chapter Eighteen
Garic grunted as he pushed hard against a large male Risen. The former man had a huge hole on one side of his chest where Garic could see the organs in his chest. They were rotten and black, the smell coming from the opening made him want to vomit. He slipped a foot behind the creature's legs and used his weight to topple it over the wall and back toward the sea of undead faces below.
The steady stream of Risen attacking the wall was actually beginning to thin. They had all noticed it over the last few days. One of the theories was that they had thinned out the creatures that were strong enough to climb this high. Garic thought it might be the fact that they were so crushed together at the base of the wall that they were stopping each other from attacking.
In the time he had been on the wall Garic could already feel his strength increasing. Had he been asked while he was a butcher, he would have said he was a fit man, despite the weight he carried around his middle. Now, he knew that was wrong. A few days on the wall had been enough to make him draw in his belt and begin to feel muscles in his stomach that hadn’t been there since he was a young man.
He stepped to one side, letting a fellow recruit take his place in the line. He reached a table, set off to one side and took a drink of water from a flask, then stretched out his muscles. His back ached from the constant effort, but his sleep had been deep and unbroken.
As he looked out toward the hills outside Rome he saw the first of the horses. They rode in pairs as they crested the rise. A faint sound reached Garic’s ear of a horn being blown. He nudged Hakor, who was sitting in shade to one side. The big man stood and looked to where Garic pointed.
Some of the Risen at the back of the crowd must have heard the horn because they began to break off and move toward the horses. From his advantaged angle, high on the wall, Garic watched the horses circle, as if waiting for the undead to get closer.
“I think Titus has arrived,” said Hakor in Garic’s ear. “At least the first of his troops have.”
They all watched as the first of the undead came close to the cavalry. The pairs of horsemen began performing the same manoeuvres that they had practiced in front of Titus. On the walls the recruits began to cheer as dozens of undead began to fall.
At first, it seemed that the cavalry were performing some kind of illusion. They seemed able to take down the enemy without any visible weapons. The pairs rode around the grassy plains in front of the city and any Risen that passed between them would be thrown to the ground, in many cases not to get back up again. After a while Garic realised they must be using rope or chain.
One of the recruits was so engrossed with the happenings outside the city that he was almost dragged from his position by a Risen that attacked from below. He hacked at the hand that grabbed for him and went back to his duty.
All along the walls horns started blaring, sounding out the warning that the enemy was at the gate.
“Did I just hear cheering for the enemy?” the voice of Centurion Horatius asked as he came out of the watch tower. He made his way out along the wall followed by a number of l
egionaries. “All recruits are to form up and return to barracks. Now that the enemy is in sight your services will no longer be required on the wall. You will become support staff and will be assigned duties as required. Your shift was almost over, so go to the mess and get something to eat.”
Garic and his fellow recruits lined up and made their way down the stone steps inside the tower. Hakor was behind Garic and the two of them made up the back of the line. Half way down the steps Hakor leaned into Garic’s ear.
“This is our chance. We go to the trapdoor, now,” the Egyptian whispered into Garic’s ear.
“I was waiting for you to suggest it,” Garic replied.
“I’ll go to the office, I need you to make sure the centurion doesn’t return until I’ve seen what is down there,” Hakor said.
Garic nodded and when everybody else turned left, he let the big African turn right, toward Horatius’ office. That left him alone at the bottom of the stairs wondering what he would say if the centurion made his way back down the stairs. After a while of thinking and worrying, Garic made his mind up to be active rather than stand and wait. He started his way back up the steps.
At the top he saw the legionaries standing in a much more formal and military formation on the wall than the recruits had been. As he came through the door into the light Centurion Horatius was the first to see him.
“I thought I told you all to go down stairs, recruit,” the officer said.
“I’m sorry, sir. I was hoping to see what was happening out there,” Garic replied, hoping to play on the brief but friendly conversations he had previously had with the centurion.
Horatius nodded. “It’s hard, just waiting. I’ve been in a lot of battles and it’s always the waiting that is the worst, assuming you don’t die, that is.” He added the last and Garic was amused to hear humour at a time like this, especially from such a serious man.
“Don’t look so shocked,” the centurion said with a laugh. “I can make a joke from time to time.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Garic said, at a loss for any other reply.
“I’ve been impressed with you and the other recruits, Garic. I was sceptical at first, I have to admit. To protect the walls with common citizens seemed insanity, though, you've all proved me wrong.”
“Yes, sir,” Garic replied. This moment of honesty was unnerving.
The two men turned to the field outside the walls. The teams of horses were sweeping across the grass, singling out individual, or small groups of the undead. They were having a lot of success, the field was already littered with bodies that lay crumpled in heaps. The main part of the undead horde did not seem to have registered their presence, which allowed the horses to move at high speed with little hindrance.
“Tell me what you see, Garic,” the centurion invited.
“Teams of two horses with rope or chain between them. They seem to be killing the Risen by hitting them at head height, sir,” Garic replied.
“Yes, that’s what is happening,” Horatius nodded. “What you really see is Roman innovation. That, out there, is the reason the Roman Empire is the largest in the world. We have been given a challenge and we have overcome.”
Garic wondered exactly what had been overcome but kept his mouth firmly shut. Yes, it was impressive to see the cavalry making the Risen suffer but it was a drop in a very large ocean. What was going on between the two most powerful men in Rome was the reason the great empire they had built was crumbling around their feet.
“Excuse my saying, sir, but you sound like you admire the enemy,” Garic said tilting his head back toward the field.
“Garic, those men out there are my enemy because Emperor Otho says they are my enemy.” He looked more like his usual stern self. “I will kill them all, if I’m told to. They are still Roman, though. After the battle, no matter who wins, if I am still alive I hope to call those men brother again.”
“So, you don’t always believe in what you are asked to do?” Garic asked forgetting to call the officer sir in his amazement.
Horatius laughed. “Fuck no, I’m a soldier, Garic. I kill who I’m told to, I don’t have to believe in anything. I obey orders and that is all that is expected of me. If the Emperor says we are at war with a country or people then that is who I kill.”
Garic shook his head at the idea that men would kill simply because they were told to, and he supposed because they were paid. He couldn’t imagine being able to kill anyone unless they threatened him, his family or his friends. Even then it might haunt him forever.
They lapsed into silence for a while and watched the horse teams out on the field. Enemy or not, they were killing a common foe out there. As they watched one of the teams must have caught the chain on something in the grass. They went from a high speed charge toward a small group of Risen to crashing to the ground in a tangle of horses and men.
One of the horses fell to the ground with its neck obviously broken. The head twisted at an angle and it lay there, twitching. The rider was thrown clear but lay, unmoving, some distance away.
The second horse was luckier, it stayed on its feet but its rider was thrown backward off his saddle by the force of the impact. He crashed to the ground and was getting to his feet when the undead caught up with him.
He drew his sword and braced himself for the first leaping impact. The undead attacker threw herself into the air and the rider swatted at her. His impact was clean but momentum carried her into him, knocking him stumbling, backward.
He wasn’t as quick to get to his feet this time. Before he could stand, three Risen overwhelmed him and he disappeared from sight as they surrounded him. His screams could be heard from the top of the walls.
“I’ve seen enough, you have your orders men,” Horatius said as he turned and made his way toward the steps. Garic was at a loss for anything to say that might slow the officer down. He followed on the man's heels as he made his way down the steps and at the bottom, watched in agony as Horatius turned toward his office without another word. A sick feeling dropped into Garic’s stomach as, without anything else he could do, he turned toward the mess. He opened the plain wooden door and the smell of cooking meat met him, wetting his mouth despite the fear he had let his friend down.
Relief washed over him as he saw Hakor sitting at the end of one of the two long tables. The big man had two plates and he signalled for Garic to sit down next to him. Garic made his way to the bench and pulled his plate toward him. The Egyptian smiled as Garic began to eat, nodding slowly at Garic’s unasked question.
“The food is good?” Garic asked.
“The food is very good. Very good indeed,” Hakor answered in return.
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The temple of Viddus was no more than a small brick building set back, off a side road. So inconspicuous that Regulus might have walked straight past it had he not known what he was looking for. No imagery adorned the outside of the building and the door was nothing more than plain wooden planks. Such a different building to the Temple of Jupiter could not be imagined.
The boy pushed open the door and shuffled in on his walking stick. A strong smell of bitter incense met him and made him cough for a short spell. It was this noise that announced his presence to the man who had helped him outside the Temple of Jupiter.
“You came. I wasn’t sure that you would,” said the man as he lowered the hood of the robe he wore.
“I almost couldn’t find the place,” Regulus answered as his eyes took in the small interior of the temple. It was much like any other place of worship on the inside, lit by candles with ornate pictures and statues.
“Viddus isn’t one of the gods that most people include in their daily worship. In fact, if you ask most people who he is, they wouldn’t know.” The hooded priest said with no remorse.
“I’m sorry, you will have to include me among their number,” Regulus admitted. “I have to ask, why did you help me outside the Temple of
Jupiter?”
The priest smiled, he wasn’t as old as Regulus had first assumed, but he was more than twenty years older than Regulus. His rough voice, outside the temple, now sounded much softer.
“I feel we can help each other. I may know some of the answers you are looking for. What you do with those answers, that is up to you.” He smiled at Regulus and beckoned the boy to sit.
“Firstly, will you tell me again of your dreams?” The priest put an inflection on the final word that told Regulus that the man didn’t believe they were dreams at all. “I would hear every detail of what you saw and heard.”
Regulus looked around the temple, the two of them were alone. He took a deep breath and without really making the decision to do as the priest asked, he began to talk. He told the priest everything. Every detail that he could remember, every sound and sight of the clearing and the hut. The voice that spoke to him and the legionaries. He also told the priest of the second visit to the clearing. The temple of black volcanic stone, the blood that flowed down the walls but never pooled, the ancient hooded priest.
When Regulus had finished speaking, which seemed to take forever, the priest put a hand on his shoulder. He asked one question that convinced Regulus that he believed his story and was the right man to be speaking to.
“It was no dream was it? You were really there.”
The answer came out in a flood of relief and tears. “I was. I was really there. I’m scared and I don’t know what to do, please help me.” He pleaded with the priest.
The priest shook this head. “I don’t know what help I can be to you. I have a legend to tell you. You will see why I brought you here, when you have heard it.”
Regulus took a deep breath and nodded.
“Viddus is the God of the separation of the body and soul. The story goes that Viddus is there at the moment of death to make sure that the soul is able to depart this world in search of Elysium. That without Viddus, the soul might be trapped in the body in this world forever. There is another story as well.
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