Remus Rising

by Jonathan Williamson

  With the ground floor cleared Marcus moved hastily up the stairs to find no resistance this time.

  “Legate!” He shouted, climbing over the dead guards at the top of the stairs.

  “In the main room…” a guard, leaning himself against a wall said, his chest red with his own blood.

  Marcus signalled for the man who was following him to help the guard while he continued to move through the rooms to the main room in the centre of the 1st floor.

  Marcus burst through the door to find the Legate knocked to floor and crying in pain, gripping at his head. Stood over him was a man in grey robes with a tattered hood covering his face. His arms were outstretched, pointing down to the Legate still screaming. An eerie crimson glow seemed to emit from the man’s hands as he tightened his hands causing the Legate to scream in more pain. In one swift move Marcus rushed the man swinging his gladius down on his hands cutting them clean off. The Legate ceased his screaming while still clutching his head, his screams instead replaced by the man who looked down at the handless wrists he now possessed.

  Soldiers burst into the room to attend to the Legate.

  “Get a medic for this one too and make sure he doesn’t die. I want him alive for questioning.” The soldiers nodded, gagging the man and taking him downstairs while calling out for a medic.

  “Are you alright Legate?” Marcus asked crouching down to him.

  “My head hurts but it’s fading. Give me a moment.”

  Marcus waved the others away and went to get wine for the Legate. Sitting up slowly the Legate sipped the wine, his body relaxing as the pain from his head faded.

  “What is the situation out there Marcus?” He asked, continuing to sip the wine between every few words.

  “We have secured the walls and the men are finishing off a sweep of the fort, clearing the it entirely of the enemy.”

  The Legate nodded as he rested himself against the wall.

  “It is believed that they used the attack on the fort to sow chaos among our forces while the bulk of them went into the town across the river.”

  The Legate gasped as he downed the last bit of wine and signalled for more to be brought to him.

  “Then we must launch a counter attack into the town, we must be able to protect Eboracum or a beast horde will be the least of our worries. The entire north will turn on us if they think we are weak and unable to act defend our own town.”

  Marcus nodded and signalled for one of the men outside the room to come in.

  “Find Decurion Gaius of the Equites and instruct him to gather the troops he feels we will need to launch a counter offensive into the town.”

  The soldier saluted and disappeared out the room, leaving Marcus and the Legate with only the sound of his footsteps fading down the stairs.

  “I don’t want you leading the offensive into the town Marcus, go instead to the man we have taken prisoner and interrogate him until we know all he has to offer.”

  Marcus tried to hide his disappointment at the prospect of missing out on the final push whilst also relieved to be receiving lighter duties. It had been a long night and Marcus knew he had still not fully recovered from the fighting.

  With mixed emotions he saluted before moving to leave the room.

  “And Marcus.” He turned to the Legate. “When you’ve finished with him, hang him in front of the south east gate.”

  Marcus inhaled deeply.

  “Or what is left of him sir.”

  The Legate nodded before continuing to rest against the wall and sip his wine. As Marcus left the room he could hear the Legate begin to order the man with him to send for various high-ranking officers and officials.

  Outside the soldiers had finished the fighting and were in the process of sorting the dead and attending to the wounded. Slumped forward on his horse Gaius looked over the proceedings.

  “We’re going to the town then?” He said, his facial expression blank and his voice tired.

  “Sadly only you are.” Gaius looked at Marcus with raised brow.

  “The Legate has instructed me to lead the interrogation of the prisoner we took who was trying to kill him with some sort of strange power.”

  Gaius shook his head. “If that is his command then I shall await the order to move out of the fort and into the town, good luck with the interrogation. Perhaps there will be some fight left for you when you are done.”

  Gaius tried to chuckle, the tiredness and seeming sorrow preventing anything more than few sharp exhales.

  Marcus had never seen Gaius so deflated from fighting, after all he was a professional career soldier. Gaius had entered the cavalry at a young age and as the 3rd son of a wealthy aristocrat, he had little other choice, expecting only minor parts of his family estate, if that. His family was not suitable for senatorial or major roles, instead focusing on consolidating their estates in southern Gaul. Despite Gaius’s aristocratic up bringing Marcus had never found him to act superior or disrespectful, instead finding him to be a reasonable person who anyone could make conversation with and respect. It was no doubt because of this that Gaius had managed to rise through the ranks of the Equite cavalry to becoming the commander of the entire Legion’s cavalry detachment.

  As Marcus watched his long-time friend and comrade trot his horse away his disappointment in not being able to fight vanished. It was clear that this fighting was in no means the standard they had become accustomed to or the two men had ever thought to serve in. This was not the glorious campaigns to expand the empire or to quell a barbarian horde that threatened to burn towns and villages, this was so much more. They were fighting an enemy that had no care for life and intended to display it. Marcus had seen cruelty from revenge seeking barbarians but the anger and hatred that the beasts displayed was unholy and deeply rooted. Yet there seemed to be a human element to it. Underneath the bloodshed a higher purpose seemed to hover in the shadows and one Marcus was determined to discover.

  With the sudden sense of determination he set off to the barracks they had moved the prisoner to and were attending to his dismembered hands. At the door to the barracks a group of guards stood to attention, covering any exits that the prisoner could use to escape and make a break for it. Inside at least two further men were pinning the prisoner down to a table while two medics attended to the man’s gaping wrists. Marcus stood near the door waiting for them to finish their work as they pulled a flat blade out of a fireplace and pressed it hard against the wounds, sealing them from infection and blood loss before finishing their work with a sponge sealed under bandages around the stumps.

  All the while the man screamed in pain, trying to stand up from the table he had been laid on. With the medic’s work completed Marcus signalled for the man to be tied to a chair beside the fireplace. Barely awake the man was dragged across the floor and bound to a chair at his shoulders and ankles.

  “What tribe do you come from?” Marcus asked.

  The man failed to respond, his head just hanging loosely between his shoulders. Marcus shook his head and signalled for a bucket of water to be brought in which Marcus promptly splashed up into the man’s face waking him violently.

  “What tribe do you come from?” Marcus asked again, this time his voice sterner and darker.

  “No tribe.” The man droned, his head beginning to hang again.

  Marcus signalled for his head to be tied back, fixing it upright.

  “How do you not have a tribe?” Marcus leaned into the man, placing his weight only a few inches from his wrists.

  “The Druids! I’m with the Druids!” Marcus leaned back as the man wriggled about in the chair from the pain.

  “You see that wasn’t so hard. The Druids were wiped out in Britannia? Where did you come from?”

  “Far to the north, beyond Roman control.” The Druid gasped as his head swirled in agony.

  Marcus signalled for the Druid to be brought some water which the Druid drank swiftly.

  “How did Druids get their hands on an arm
y of beasts?”

  “We didn’t.”

  Silence fell on the room. Marcus pulled another chair up and sat on it and lowered his voice.

  “The man who burns the earth where he walks?”

  The Druids face darkened before he nodded softly.

  “Who is he?” Marcus pressed.

  “A demiGod who walks among us.”

  “Who?” The Druid’s eyes seemed to light up.

  “Look into my eyes son of Rome and you will see.”

  Slowly and with caution Marcus moved his gaze straight into the Druid’s eyes.

  A flash of light revealed Marcus was standing alongside the Druid in a dimly lit cave along with other Druids who watched over a man submerged beneath a pool of water before them. In a splash the man stood up out of the water. Marcus looked at the man who began to talk in silence with discomfort. The man seemed to look to where Marcus was and for a second Marcus felt like there was only him and the mysterious man in the cave. Then a flash of light distracted them both as a fireball was launched at the man who deflected it before his eyes lighting up with a deep crimson. Chaos ensued as the Druids were turned on each other while the mysterious man still stood where he had emerged from the pool of water. Marcus ducked and dodged anything that came towards him as he moved about the cave, trying to get closer to the mysterious man.

  As Marcus neared he felt his leg catch and he fell to his knees a few yards away from the mysterious man who seemed to pay little attention to him as he cast his crimson eyes into any Druid that was brought before him all the while killing those that attempted to attack him. Then as a beam of light flew past the mysterious man’s face Marcus stumbled backwards on his knees. This was him. The man who burned the earth. The demiGod.

  As fast as the fighting had started it ended with only the crimson eyed Druids remaining. The demiGod signalled for them out of the cave while he left. Marcus watched as they left before deciding to follow them outside. More signals were given to the Druids before the demiGod mounted a black Pegasus and exchanged one more glance at Marcus.

  ‘Can he see me?’ Marcus thought as he moved away from the black Pegasus that extended its giant wings and took to the sky. With this the Druids turned back to their cave, moving through it past the pool of water out through another exit. Marcus, unable to follow the demiGod followed the Druids, this time more aware of himself and keeping his distance.

  As they exited the cave at the other side they emerged to a wooded area with a small clearing lit by torches and dotted with huts. The outside of the wooded area was surrounded by a natural wall of rock and mountains making this small area a perfect hide out. It was night and there seemed to be little activity around the huts except for a few Druids sharing a drink outside their respective huts.

  “Bring fire down on them, then begin the conversions as Lord…”

  The lead Druids voice silenced as he named what Marcus believed to be the demiGod,

  “…commands.”

  Without hesitation the Druids each drew on their magic and launched a bombardment of fireballs up into the sky and down onto the hidden village.

  Panic ensued as the crimson eyed Druids ran into the burning village grabbing any Druid they could and casting their crimson eyes into theirs. It was not long before the Druids had completed their work and a host of crimson eyed Druids stood at the entry to the village. The village continued to burn as they left through the cave to join the demiGod’s army. Marcus remained as he watched them leave, counting them, before wandering towards the village where the captured Druid, with white eyes, stood.

  “Now you know our story.”

  Marcus looked around the barrack, blinking from the rapid change of scenery.

  “You still haven’t told me half the things I need to know.”

  The Druid shut his eyes and breathed heavily.

  “Who is the demiGod and what are his intentions? How did he manage to gather an army of beasts and how many of them are there?”

  Marcus barked, rising from his chair.

  “What colour are my eyes son of Rome?” The Druid replied, opening his eyes again.

  Marcus looked into them.

  “White, they’re… pure white.”

  The Druid’s eyes had no pupils and yet he was able to see as clear as any other could.

  “I was trying to kill your Legate and to do so I was instructed to first strip his mind of all his knowledge using a power granted to me by the demiGod.”

  Marcus looked at the man’s stumps.

  “When you cut my hands from me you caused me to lose all my powers, ending the control the demiGod had over me.” Marcus sat back in his chair.

  “I’ve faced Druids before and I’ve never seen one hurl a fireball or cast any of this magic you seem to use.” The Druid chuckled.

  “A demiGod walks among us with an army of twisted beasts behind him, yet you question the power of Druid magic.” Marcus shook his head.

  “This is irrelevant. You still haven’t answered my questions Druid.”

  The Druid sighed again.

  “Very well. The demiGod wants revenge for what he perceives as crimes committed against him and he intends to enact it on Rome and any who might follow her.”

  Marcus furrowed his brow with concern.

  “And his army?”

  “An army of that kind comes from only one place, son of Rome. The underworld itself.”

  A chill seemed to pass through the barrack.

  “And how may does he have?”

  The Druid shook his head, “That is unknown to me, I did not have control over my mind enough to count them, however I can tell you that their number is limited.”

  Marcus leaned forward. “Limited how?”

  “For the demiGod to bring his army from the underworld they must cross the river that divides the world of the living with that of the dead. He is limited in how many beasts he can bring across it each time for fear that it would bring attention to him from the Gods.”

  Marcus seemed to sigh a sigh of relief. The beast army was formidable enough without an infinite number of them being readily available.

  “I still need a name Druid? Who is this demiGod that has brought an army into the world?”

  The Druid looked into the fire.

  “Remus.”

  Chapter 6

  The sun had now risen into what was fast becoming midmorning and the smell of cooking fires had now engulfed the fort. Marcus stood in the shadow of the druid hanging from the south east gate before turning back to the centre of the fort. As he walked from the south east gate he was given some recognition by the soldiers going about their duties, thanking him for his actions the night before. Marcus had never been one for personal achievement, he was a career soldier but not one who pushed to advance it beyond what was given. What he did in the line of duty he did because of just that, it was his duty and single heroics were not in his nature, instead standing by his comrades, shoulder to shoulder and seeking a glory found only in doing that.

  As he wandered towards the headquarters a column of men could be seen marching through the fort coming from the south west gate. Marcus peered down the road at them. It was in no doubt that this was the force sent to retake Eboracum from the beast horde. Marcus stopped and waited, seeing a group of riders close behind the first block of infantry. Much of the column was dismissed as it neared the headquarters and the men dispersed into their own groups, heading to their barracks or the temporary ones set up for them. At the head of the column was what Marcus took to be two of its officers, one of whom had been injured somehow, with one leaning onto the other.

  Seeing the effort of the two men limping up to the headquarters Marcus decided to hang back, judging their report to be more valuable to the Legate than his interrogation results. As the men neared the officer supporting the other stumbled, almost throwing both men to the ground. Marcus moved to them, throwing the injured officers other arm around over his own shoulders to support him and reli
eve the other man of the entire strain.

  “Tiberius?” Marcus said in shock as he looked at the injured mans face.

  “Praefectus Marcus? Good to see you still alive.”

  As they reached the outside of the headquarters Marcus rested Tiberius down on the bench and waved for two legionaries to bring some water, signalling the other officer to rest as well.

  “What happened down there?”

  Marcus asked as Tiberius and the other officer began to drink the water.

  “It was hell Marcus. Those beasts were prepared for us, they had fortified choke points and blocked some of the streets. We had no choice but the fight them at every turning and rid the vermin house by house, street by street.”

  Tiberius looked up as the carts of injured began to roll up the street before stopping and asking for the locations of the temporary hospitals.

  “The casualties are heavy Marcus; three cohorts went down into the town. I doubt you could make up a single one with fully fit men.”

  Tiberius sighed deeply, and Marcus placed his hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s tough.” Marcus said consolingly.

  The three men sat in quiet reflection as they watched the carts go past before Tiberius sighed deeply one more time.

  “The Legate will want his report, can’t sit here all day feeling sorry for ourselves.” Tiberius said slapping his knees and staggering to his feet, placing his hand on the wall to steady himself.

  “I too have my report for him but please give yours first so that you may get some rest sooner.”

  Tiberius nodded and patted Marcus on the shoulder in thanks before the three men headed into the headquarters and up the stairs to the Legate.

  “Tiberius, I hope that you bring me excellent news on your return and you Marcus, valuable information from our guest?”

  Marcus signalled to Tiberius who wavered, placing his hand on the table to steady himself only to be brought a chair by an attendant.

  “We have successfully retaken the town and established a watch on the walls but there is a lot of damage throughout the town that we can’t deal with without more men. Our approximate casualties come in at 1/3 dead and 1/3 injured with at least half of the injured unable to serve for some time.”