“What’s wrong?” shouted R’Argh, looking at Tyr’s expression of agony.
“My bollocks. It’s cold!” shouted Tyr.
Valerus and Sincerus, standing on the shoreline, began laughing.
“Yeah, laugh it up, bastards. You’ve got to get in here too,” replied Tyr, as he started crossing the river, hand over hand.
“Stop whining!” shouted Pious, as he turned his head again and continued across the river.
“Well, I guess this is it,” said Valerus as he made his way to the chain, smacking Sincerus on the back.
R’Argh walked alongside and leant in towards Sincerus. “What are bollocks?” asked R’Argh with curiosity, as he was fastening his spear to his back.
“You’ll find out,” said Sincerus as he headed for the riverfront.
Eventually, Pious reached the smooth, pebble–stone–lined shore, and hauled himself out of the water. He was heavily laden, and his tunic was saturated by the freezing waters. He removed his clothing and started twisting it between both hands, drawing the excess water from its fibres. He shivered as he watched the rest of the group crossing the river, whilst water dripped profusely from his wringing action on the tunic.
Tyr reached the shore, hauled himself out of the water, and walked without a sound towards a naked Pious, before pointing at the tunic in Pious’s hand.
“You, sir, are a madman,” said Tyr, as he shivered. Pious laughed.
The shores of the river were soon littered with the group, who were drying themselves off. Unlike the unfortunate waterlogged Elysians, the Scythians only needed to remove their very light tunics and ruffle their fur, shaking off the excess water. Pious stood quietly, counting the group. “We’re all here. Great job,” he said, before turning to gaze up the wall of the cliff. The Scythians placed their thin tunics under their belts, waiting for them to dry.
Pious changed into his damp clothing. “Well, there is no point standing around. We will only freeze to death if we do,” he said and started to climb the rock river face.
Just as Pious placed his hand on the stone, Valerus grabbed him by the shoulder. “Listen! The cannon fire has stopped,” said Valerus, pointing to the sky above.
“Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” asked K’Reorh.
Valerus turned to K’Reorh. “I’m going to say, it’s a bad thing – do you think they saw our lights earlier?”
K’Reorh looked at Valerus in confusion. “Why couldn’t it be a good thing?” he asked.
“Seeing how things have been going recently, I’m going with the statistically safe option,” Valerus replied with a smile, as Tyr began climbing the wall.
“What’s a ‘statistically safe option’ mean? You smoothskins have some strange words,” said K’Reorh.
Valerus turned back to K’Reorh, unsure of how to respond.
“It means that these guys are bad luck,” said B’Sayan, as he walked past the group and started climbing the wall.
R’Argh followed B’Sayan and began to climb up the wall. “Bad luck, that is an understatement,” he said, whilst finding some good handholds and continuing to scale the wall.
“I don’t think they are that bad. I always wanted to venture beyond the Edge!” said K’Reorh. He slapped Valerus on the back and began climbing the wall, following B’Sayan’s path.
When Pious reached the top, he knelt on the ground, trying to regain some energy, and inspected his hands, which were grazed from climbing the rough stone.
Pious noticed a hand reach up from over the edge of the ledge and saw a body haul itself to the surface.
“I don’t know how you manage to climb so fast,” said Jarus with a smile, as he leant down to help another figure up over the edge.
Pious stared at Jarus in disbelief. “Jarus?” he exclaimed, unsure if his eyes were deceiving him.
“Nope – still Tyr,” replied Tyr with a smile. “I think you need some sleep.”
Pious rubbed his eyes and kept watch as one by one the other members of the group appeared over the top of the riverbank.
“So – how are we going to get him – it – inside?” asked Jarus, kneeling next to Pious and pointing to the Eastern Stately Gate.
“The others should be here soon with the wagon,” said Pious, inspecting the massive, torch-lit gate in the distance.
“What?” replied Sincerus with uncertainty – kneeling where Jarus had just knelt moments ago. Pious rubbed his brow uneasily.
Sincerus put his hand on Pious’s shoulder. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” replied Pious, rubbing the side of his head with signs of discomfort on his face.
“Look!” said R’Argh. He pointed to the other side of the river, grabbing the attention the whole group.
Many torch-bearing soldiers were heading towards the Bay of Sarnak, marching as groups, with each group carrying a large object.
“Are those boats?” asked Sincerus, pointing to one of the groups.
“Looks like it,” replied R’Argh, trying to focus a little harder through the fog.
“Can you see their standard?” asked Pious.
“It looks like crossed fists. One Silver, one black. Both holding a sword and bound by chains, on a field of red,” replied K’Reorh.
“Redemption's Glory. Great… Attamerus’s answer to their overcrowded prisons,” said Valerus, staring across the river at the large force that was marching towards the bay of Sarnak.
“You die in battle; you receive pardon. You win in battle; you receive pardon and coin,” he continued.
“Desperates and criminals – rewarded thusly?” asked B’Sayan.
“Exactly. They are extremely dangerous and ruthless,” replied Valerus.
“They must be heading to the bay of Sarnak, but they will not stand a chance against the Armada,” said Pious.
“What about the tribe? We haven’t left the Forest for who knows how long – what if those ships fire on them?” asked K’Reorh.
“They will be fine. The Tharlugians are aware of our presence. They will give us all the help we need,” replied B’Sayan.
“They are?” Replied Pious in shock, as Tyr and Valerus looked to B’Sayan.
“Of course - we have traded with the Tharlugians for as long as I can remember.”
“Well I’ll be…” said Tyr.
“What about the folk at Landsbeach? I assume that is where these soldiers intend to go,” said Sincerus.
“Our people will be fine. To get to Landsbeach, Redemption's Glory would have to cross the Bay. There is no way they will get past the Armada, even in those boats. They will get blown from the water,” said Pious.
The entire group jumped as they were startled by the loud sound of a horn, coming from the direction of Sanctuary. The entire group stood still, staring at Sanctuary.
“Please tell me that wasn’t another horn,” said Tyr, looking at Valerus.
“That was another horn,” said Valerus, looking concerned.
“Damn it!” shouted Tyr, kicking the ground.
“It could only either be the Western or the Southern Horn. Come on, let’s move,” said Pious, as he started off running towards the Eastern Stately Gate, barely visible in the distance. The rest of the group followed him.
“Hey, look! What are they doing?” said K’Reorh, when he saw some infantry from Redemption's Glory stop and inspect something on the opposite edge of the river, close to the edge of the river gorge.
B’Sayan, knowing quite well what it was that the soldiers were inspecting, grabbed hold of K’Reorh’s arm and pushed him forward. “Come on, let’s go,” said B’Sayan, as they followed in the direction where Pious had gone.
The Eastern Stately Gate
“The fiends shall never again set eyes on the majesty of Sanctum, nor shall their hearts and feet touch the grounds of this Sanctuary.”
Speech upon sealing the Northern Stately Gate,
Aquila Lumeruson, Prime Prefect.
Given
on the 1st Cycle of Purity.
The group ran towards the Eastern Stately Gate with Pious at the forefront. He had no idea what was in store for them; nevertheless, he felt a deep sense of fulfilment and relief as he closed in on the grand doors of the Eastern Stately Gate.
However, those feelings were overshadowed by concern and dread. Concern, for the defence of Sanctuary. Dread, for what response might await him, his comrades, and his newfound Scythian friends. Still, his concern for Serana and his unborn child outweighed all other hesitations and pushed him onwards into the unknown.
“This isn’t going to work,” said Jarus, dressed in the attire of a Union Merchant and looking very unsure, the light of Lux shining off his Aurum–plated Oligarch’s collar.
“It will work – we have come too far to fail now,” said Pious, as he continued walking towards the gates, in front of the cargo wagon drawn by two Dray Faun and escorted by a handful of guards from the Union of Merchants.
“Whatever you do – don’t panic. Stick to the story – and the plan,” commanded Pious to the group behind him, with his eyes fixed on the approaching mighty gates.
“What plan?” replied a voice, as someone grabbed Pious by the arm.
“You could have told us earlier you had a plan?” said Valerus, looking at Pious with concern.
“I don’t have a plan – we will just have to see what comes, Valerus,” replied Pious, his brow covered in a feverish sweat.
“Are you okay? You have been talking to yourself quite a lot recently,” said Valerus, jogging alongside Pious, through the shin–high and recently flowered Meadowtail grass.
As they ran towards the gate, many men, camouflaged in large mantles resembling ground cover, burst forth from the grasses with combat bows and arbalests held at the ready.
“Stop right there!” commanded their leader, looking down the sights of a heavy arbalest with a bolt aimed directly at Pious’s forehead. Pious slowly raised his arms in the air and looked at the man, whose face was blackened with camouflage paint. Pious spotted a Evocatus pauldron sash under the guard’s mantle.
The guard took several steps forward and inspected the face of Pious. “Prime Prefect?” said the leader with squinted eyes and a tone of disbelief. He raised his hand. “Lower your weapons – they are with us!” he said, as he inspected the group closer.
“Tyr?” shouted another of the guards. He moved in closer to Tyr and shook his hand.
“Rufus, you dirty bastard,” replied Tyr, slapping him on the upper arm.
“You’re meant to be dead,” said Rufus, with the utmost confusion apparent on his face. “I guess the rumours that the Fallen Four are still alive, is not a rumour after all!” he continued, before being interrupted by another guard.
“What in the Nine are they?” asked the leader of the guards, pointing at R’Argh.
“We’re Scythians,” said R’Argh, planting the base of his spear in the ground, and puffing his chest out, staring at back at the leader.
“That’s the King of the Forest!” shouted Tyr, pointing at B’Sayan.
“King of the Forest?” replied B’Sayan, looking startled, but amused.
“Amazing – the stories are true then…,” said one the guards, as he slowly released the tension on his drawn bowstring.
The Evocatus pointed at Rufus. “Corporal Serverius, get them inside!” shouted the Evocatus in front of Pious, before pointing to the gate. “The rest of you – back to your holes!”
The Evocatus took a step backwards from Pious. “Honour, Valour, Pride,” he said, before saluting, walking towards a hole in the ground and slowly climbing down.
Pious watched as the guard placed his mantle over the top of the hole, perfectly hiding his position.
“Get inside, now,” Pious said to Tyr and the others, sternly and with no emotion.
“Follow me!” said Rufus. He stayed in front of Tyr as they ran towards the massive gates. On the parapets at the top of the gate and along the top of the Shield, many Militia soldiers stood in defensive positions.
“Watchmaster!” Rufus repeatedly shouted as they closed in on the gate, the approach illuminated by a semi-circle of torch fire and lodestones. Several guards looked over the edge of the wall, high above.
“Who the Nine are they?” shouted one of the guards, attracting the attention of many Militia soldiers, who looked over the wall to observe an approaching party of four Elysians, led by a Corporal of the Forward Advance Cohort, with three large, fur-covered beasts in their midst.
“Hold your fire!” shouted Rufus as loudly as he could to a guard, who had a heavy arbalest at the ready, pointed through the Watchmaster’s porthole.
“It’s the Prime Prefect! It’s the Fallen Four!” shouted Rufus, gesturing with his hand to Pious.
The guardsman in the porthole moved out of the way, and an officer wearing a helmet with the plume of a Colonel looked out from the porthole. “Prime Prefect? You are meant to be dead!” shouted the Colonel to the men below.
Pious laughed. “So, we have heard!” he replied.
The Colonel pulled his head into the porthole. “Hold your fire!” shouted the Colonel, before he stuck his head out of the porthole again.
“What the Nine are those things with you, Prefect?” shouted the Colonel, once the raiding party stood at the base of the wall, puffing with exhaustion.
“These warriors are Scythians, from deep within the Engulfing Forest. They chose to help us of their own accord!” replied Pious. He had his head stretched all the way back, to see the Colonel in the porthole.
“You know what? I don’t care where help comes from right now, or from whom! Watchmaster, let them through, now!” shouted the Colonel, and disappeared back behind the wall.
The door below began to open, and a detachment of guards slipped through, flanking and protecting the entrance.
“Prefect, Tribuni; it is good to see you are still alive,” said Corporal Serverius, saluting the men. “I must get back to the hole,” he said and sprinted into the distance without further ado.
The group made their way into the mantrap, which was full of heavily armed guards who closed the door behind them and barred it shut. Unease and apprehension filled the Militia within the mantrap.
The four men were shivering from the dampness of their clothes and the cold air, which combined to strip them of their body heat. The Scythians looked content – being long dry.
The guards stared curiously and uneasily at the Scythians. K’Reorh waved at the guards, and R’Argh tapped one of them on the helmet – amusing himself with the guard’s shock at seeing a walking and talking, spear-wielding furry creature.
The Colonel from the wall above hurriedly made his way down the parapet steps and pushed through the crowd to make his way to Pious.
The Colonel took off his helmet and placed it under his left arm, slamming his hand on his chest in salute to the four Praetorians.
“It is good to see you again, Valerus! Even more so in these dire circumstances,” said the Colonel.
“Aldrich!” replied Valerus, clasping the Colonel’s forearm, which the Colonel reciprocated. The two men moved closer for a one-armed embrace, and slapped each other on the back.
“Get these men fresh clothes, now!” demanded the Colonel, noticing the sorry state the four men were in.
The Colonel started towards the fire pits, clearing a path for the men. The fire pits were burning strong and threw off a significant amount of heat. A guard stood from his place next to the fire pit, picked up a pile of blankets from behind him, and handed them to the four. The men stripped off their clothes and wrapped themselves in the blankets, then crouched around the fire pit, warming themselves.
“This fine man, Colonel Aldrich Aulus, married my cousin, Laurena!” explained Valerus to his comrades. To Aldrich, he said, “Is she safe?”
“For now; but how long anyone is safe is hard to say,” replied Colonel Aldrich, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Thank y
ou for letting us in,” said Pious, nodding to the Colonel.
“If I’d known Valerus was with you, I would have made you enter by the Northern Gate!” said Aldrich, as he tapped Valerus on the back. He looked at Pious. “Do you know what I say, Prefect?”
“What is that, Colonel?”
“It was something my commanding officer said, when we were entrenched against some raiders near Crucius many, many cycles ago – Valerus would remember this. ‘We have descended too far into chaos, and there is no way to climb out. So, Aldrich, let us dig a little deeper and emerge on the other side,’” recited Aldrich, as two guards emerged from within the Shield, carrying fresh standard issue Militus attire for the men. As soon as the clothes reached Pious and his men, they immediately started getting dressed.
“Besides – there are only seven of you. One wrong move and you lot are nothing but a tailor’s pin–cushion,” stated Aldrich, as he nudged Valerus on the shoulder.
“And get these men some armour, now!” commanded the Colonel to his men as they returned into the wall. The heat from the nearby roaring fire caused him to wipe the sweat from his brow.
“By the Nine – who would have thought a pair of standard issue socks would be this amazing!” shouted Tyr, as he sat naked on a barrel, admiring the warmth of the thick socks he had pulled on.
“You could have at least put some fucking pants on first!” shouted Sincerus, tightening the waist string of his undershorts, as Tyr looked up and gave him a stupid smile.
“The situation is very dire and ever worsening,” Aldrich said. “Initial reports show that we are under terrestrial attack from the Reclamation Army, with the Redemption’s Glory Auxiliary.”
Valerus pulled a tunic over his head. He admired the Militus uniform, which was unelaborated and austere by comparison with his usual Praetorian uniform – which conveyed a magnificent sense of authority and grandiosity through unnecessary pompousness.
Tyr turned to Aldrich. “We saw them while crossing the river. Redemption’s Glory is heading east to the Bay of Sarnak, on the northern side of the Partitio.”
Exhumation: An Epic of Existentia (Acts of the Sojourner Book 1) Page 24