Peering through a gap in the shields, Marcus cursed as he saw Sergius and some of the other officers on their horses, bolting away from the massacre.
“Hold fast!” Marcus shouted.
“May the gods have mercy,” Pelonius said as the flood of howling terror crashed into them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The sound was like nothing Valeria had ever heard, louder and more terrifying than the most horrific thunderstorm. She put both hands over her ears to muffle the shrieks, cries, howls, and grunts of the animals that swept around and over the tortoise shell formed by the shields of her guards. The men who held the shields forming the forward wall dug in their heels and threw their bodies against their shields, but even then they were hammered back by the animals that flung themselves forward in blind panic. The men holding the shields overhead fought to keep the tortoise shell from collapsing from the weight of the creatures, mostly baboons and monkeys, that washed over it in a howling tide. And over their own curses and grunts of effort, Marcus bellowed for them to hold fast.
Paulus held her to his chest, his back facing the forward shield wall. Should the soldiers give way, his body would be her last line of defense. Hercules crouched so low that she felt like she was being smothered as his deafening roars reverberated inside the tortoise shell.
She screamed as something crashed into the formation and four men at the front left corner were torn away in a spray of blood that spattered over her and Paulus. She had no idea what had taken them. One moment they had been there, barely a few paces from her. The next they were gone, vanished.
“Fill the gap!” Marcus screamed as animals began to rush into the formation like water through a break in a dam.
A baboon nearly the size of a man flew through the gaping opening, its jaws wide and huge incisors gleaming. Peering over Paulus’s shoulder, she watched it as if in slow motion. Its wild eyes seemed to be fixed on her, and for a moment her gaze locked with that of the beast. The fear that shot through her breast in that moment was not for herself, but for Paulus. With his back turned toward it, the beast could easily sink its teeth into the back of his neck. He wouldn’t stand a chance.
She need not have worried. In a blinding flash of huge white teeth that dwarfed those of the baboon, Hercules snatched it from the air, crushing the hapless primate in his jaws. With a brutal shake of his head, he flung the beast back into the maelstrom. Then, lowering his great head to the gap, he let out another ear-splitting roar that gave the animals trying to come in something to fear more than whatever was chasing them.
Taking advantage of the distraction, the soldiers tightened up the formation, closing the gap until again the shell around and over them was whole. At Marcus’s orders, the men at the rear tilted their shields just enough to let the animals that had made it into the shell get out again before anyone inside was bitten or trampled.
At last, the bestial hammering and screaming dwindled, then finally came to an end as the wave of animals fled past.
After peering through the gaps in the shields in each direction, Marcus ordered, “Square!”
The soldiers who had been holding their shields up lowered them with curses of relief. The men who had formed the wall moved outward, and together the soldiers quickly formed a square shield wall formation with Hercules and the princess at the center.
“Paulus,” she said, but he didn’t move. A lance of fear stabbed through her, and she gently pushed him away so she could look at his face. “Paulus!”
“What?” he asked as he reluctantly let her go. His face was ashen and his arms were trembling.
“You fool,” she said softly as she put a hand to his cheek. “You can let go now. We’re all right. It’s over.”
“I would not be so sure,” Pelonius told her. “I think that was only the prelude. Look.”
Taking Paulus’s hand, she got to her feet and went to where Pelonius was standing just behind the men at the front of their little square.
“What—” She sucked in her breath as she saw them. Them. Dropping her voice to a whisper, “Are they what you expected?”
“Worse,” he answered.
Hundreds of dark shadows lurked at the edge of the forest. Most were on the ground, but some were up in the trees, apparently as comfortable there as might be any tree-dwelling primate. They were still as stone, the gazes of their obsidian eyes fixed on the men in the field. The beasts reminded her of hyenas with black coats, but larger, far larger. One stood beside a peculiar tree she remembered passing, and its head was the same height as a branch that she recalled had been about as tall as a man. It opened its mouth, exposing long, sharp teeth, as if leering at her.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” she whispered.
“They’re afraid of the legion,” Paulus offered in a hopeful voice.
“No, they do not fear men.” Pelonius looked over his shoulder, his eyes on Hercules, who glared silently back at the strange creatures, the dark wolves. “But they do fear him. They are downwind and can smell his scent, and no doubt heard his roars.”
A soldier of the first rank, nearest the forest, cried out from his wounds, and the largest of the dark wolves snapped its head around to look at him.
“Oh, no,” Valeria whispered as the creature, which she assumed must be the alpha, the leader, began to move toward the man, moving on its strange, elongated feet. “Marcus,” she said, “we must do something.”
“We are,” he said grimly. “We’re protecting you.”
With those words, she knew, he was condemning most, perhaps all, of the men of Invictus to death. They had lost their battle with the forest creatures, but most of the men, surprisingly, had survived. The fleeing animals had not intended any harm, but had only wanted to get away from the predators pursuing them. The soldiers had merely been in the way. Now, the survivors were dazed, many were wounded, and their leadership had been beheaded. Sergius was gone, and the officers who had not fled with him, among whom was Centurion Cantius, lay dead, victims of misfortune. The animals that had fled past — or, rather, through — the command staff’s position had been endowed with teeth and claws aplenty.
What came as more of a shock was that, despite the most incredible odds, the legion’s eagle standard stood proud at the center of the bodies of the legion’s officers. The aquilifer must have planted it in the earth just before he was killed, and his bloody hand still clenched the base of the staff. That made her wonder about the Ghost. She quickly glanced around, wondering where he might be, hoping for another sign of his presence. She was sure he had led them here to give them a chance against the dark wolves, for had the attack come while the legion was still in the forest, a massacre would have ensued.
But the Ghost was nowhere to be seen. If she and the men were to survive, it would have to be by their own hand. “Marcus,” she said, putting a hand on his arm, “you must rally the men.”
“I cannot leave you, princess. Not now.”
She pulled his arm, forcing him to turn to face her. “You and the men of the guard will not be able to protect me against that!” She pointed at the creatures that were now slowly, warily, advancing from the trees. “But the men of this legion, well led, just might.”
Everyone jumped as Hercules let out another roar, and the beasts retreated in a chorus of high-pitched yips. All save the alpha, who stood his ground and responded to the hexatiger’s challenge with a laughing bark that sent a chill down Valeria’s spine.
“I would never presume to question you, centurion,” Pelonius said, “but I believe the princess is right. She stands a much greater chance of survival behind the shields of Invictus than she does behind the shields of fifty men. Well,” he said sadly, “forty-six now.”
“Take Septimus with you,” Valeria said to Marcus, her voice urgent now as the monsters began to move back into the light.
“If you are going to act,” Pelonius added, “do it quickly. Their fear of Hercules is quickly waning.”
Valeria took a
deep breath. “Do as I command you, Centurion Tullius.”
The centurion stared down at his charge, and she was sure she saw a trace of wetness in his eyes. “Your will, my hands, princess,” he whispered. After briefly putting a callused hand to her cheek, he nodded to Septimus. “Paulus, come along.”
With a last look at Valeria, Paulus squared his shoulders and fell in behind the two older soldiers, and the men of the shield wall moved aside to let them pass.
***
“And how are you planning to put this mess back together?” Septimus asked as the three men ran as fast as they could to where the legion’s senior officers lay dead. Fortunately, they did not have far to go.
Marcus threw him an evil grin. “I hope you’re not too rusty with the cornu.” The cornu was a slender horn, about three feet across with a crossbar brace that the army’s horn blowers, the cornicens, used to sound signals to army units. Before Marcus had chosen Septimus as his optio, effectively making him Marcus’s second in command, Septimus had served some time as a cornicen, among other things.
“Oh, bugger,” Septimus cursed as he stooped down and picked up the instrument from the ground, ignoring what was left of its former owner. Other than a few dents, the horn seemed to be undamaged. “I was hoping to never have to put my lips to one of those things again.”
“What shall I do, centurion?” Paulus asked, tearing his eyes away from the dark shapes moving ever farther into the meadow, eliciting more cries and screams from the disorganized men watching their advance.
“Here.” Marcus turned to him, the staff that held the legion’s eagle in his hands. “You are now the acting aquilifer of the Legio Invictus.”
Paulus gulped as he took the staff in his hands. “Thank you for such an honor, centurion. I am not worthy.”
Septimus slapped him on the shoulder. “Anybody can hold up a stick,” he said. “Just don’t lose the bloody bird, boy.”
Despite their plight, Paulus could not help but grin. “Yes, Septimus.”
“Optio Cominius,” Marcus said formally. “Sound the order to rally to the eagle.”
“Yes, centurion.” Septimus put his lips to the horn and began to blow.
The effect on the men in the field, who had long been trained to answer to the sound of the horn, was instantaneous. What they had been lacking was the most fundamental need of soldiers on the battlefield: orders. Without them, confusion reigned and fear took hold. With them, the men had purpose, an objective. Their objective now was the eagle. The surviving centurions who commanded the cohorts and, within them, the centuries, got their men moving with shouts and a few clouts of the cudgel centurions carried as a badge of their rank. Some units quickly came back together and began an orderly withdrawal away from the forest and the things emerging from it. Other units, those that had lost their key leaders and much of their cohesion with them, slowly retreated in a disorganized mass.
At this point, Marcus did not much care in what shape the units were, as long as they moved toward him. “Sound double time.”
Again, Septimus blew, and the survivors of Invictus began to run, heading for the golden eagle that Paulus proudly held high.
“Let’s move back toward the princess,” Marcus said, frowning as the dark wolves began to advance with greater boldness, no longer held in check by the roars of Hercules. “We’ll anchor our position there.”
The three men moved back as the legion’s soldiers closed the distance, their armor and equipment clanking at the tempo of their stride.
“Halt here,” Marcus said as they reached the protective square around the princess. He nodded at Valeria, who nodded back, a look of immense relief on her face. He also saw that Pelonius had used the respite to don a set of armor from one of the fallen. “Good to see you in armor again, scribe.”
Pelonius favored him with a scowl as he put on the helmet, which was spattered with the previous owner’s blood. “I left that life behind a long time ago.”
“Well, I for one am glad you lived such a life. You’ll do us more good with that sword than you would with your quill.”
The legion’s retreat faltered as a piercing scream echoed over the battlefield. The dark wolves had found the first of those who had been left behind, injured and unable to walk. In the blink of an eye, half a dozen of the beasts set upon the hapless victim, whose screams ended with sudden, piercing finality.
Marcus cursed under his breath. The rest of the beasts seemed to pause, as if they now realized that the men before them were nothing more than meat.
“Oh, no,” Paulus whispered.
As if those words had been a signal, the dark wolves charged into the meadow, which filled with the screams of men being torn to pieces and the infernal laughing barks of the monsters.
Septimus again blew the command to rally. Then, drawing in a deep breath, bellowed in a voice every bit as impressive as that of Marcus, “Move, you sons of whores! To the eagle, damn you!”
Waiting as long as he dared, giving the men nearest him time to get just a bit closer, Marcus ordered, “Repel cavalry.”
Looking at Marcus as if he’d gone mad, Septimus did as he was told, blowing the cornu yet again.
The centuries halted and turned about to face the approaching enemy. As the centurions and optios shouted orders, the men of each unit formed two lines. The first rank erected a shield wall with only their spears protruding, while the second rank held their spears up, ready to stab any of the creatures that managed to breach the shield wall. Marcus nodded in relief as the centurions leading the formations on the wings had the presence of mind to set their units at an angle to the main line to help protect each flank.
“Well done, centurion,” Pelonius said.
“For all the good it might do,” Marcus replied as the laughing, snapping mass of dark wolves, which weren’t really wolves at all, savaged the legion’s stragglers. Men went down by the dozens under the claws and teeth of the legendary predators, who were now proving themselves all too real.
“Inside the square,” Marcus ordered, and he followed Paulus and Septimus behind the shield wall of the men of Valeria’s guard.
“Come on,” Septimus whispered as the black tide approached the first defensive line. “Come on!”
The black beasts met the defenders in a deafening crash of flesh against wood and steel, and the battlefield was riven with the agonized shrieks of dark wolves that found themselves skewered on the legion’s spears. But the elation Marcus and the others felt was short-lived as the crisp formations of the centuries dissolved into swirling chaos.
But the men of Invictus were not going as lambs before the slaughter. The onslaught of the forest animals earlier had caught them totally unaware, like a freak force of nature, and many of the men had suffered at the hands of animals too small and swift to catch, let alone kill. The dark wolves, however, while deadly and fearsome opponents, could be stabbed with spear and sword. And the creatures, despite their ferocity, were accustomed to feasting upon helpless prey, not meat that fought back. As a soldier went down under the jaws of one of the beasts, his fellows stabbed at it with their swords in the savage, disciplined frenzy that had bent the entire known world to Roman rule. It was a slaughter, yes, but the Romans made the beasts pay dearly in blood.
“It’s going to be close,” Septimus said over the pandemonium as he watched the spectacle with grim fascination. He had seen a few gladiatorial games in the great Colosseum in Rome itself, and they paled in comparison to the ferocity of the battle being waged here.
“No, it’s not,” Pelonius countered, pointing his sword off to the right, where a group of forty or fifty animals were circling around the flanking century.
“Damn,” Marcus cursed. He then looked off to the left, and saw more animals moving around on that side. “Septimus, signal ‘refuse the flank.’”
Septimus blew the horn, and the centuries on the left and right wings began to angle back, trying to keep their shields between the animals and the
legion’s vulnerable flank and rear. Despite their best efforts, the beasts were too fast, the signal too late.
“Bloody hell,” Septimus hissed as he whipped his head right and left as the animals, including the huge alpha, looped around the flanks while the rest of the huge pack continued to savage the main lines. “Those things are coming right for us!”
“Spears!” Marcus ordered, and the men put the tips of their spears over the shield wall, much like they would have done to repel cavalry. He looked up as Hercules went wild. “Look out!” Acting on instinct, Marcus dove to the ground, taking Valeria with him, as the hexatiger vaulted over the shield wall.
“Hercules, no!” Valeria’s cry was barely audible among the roars of the hexatiger, the ferocious barks of the approaching monstrosities, and the screaming of dying men and beasts on the battlefield. “Come back!”
“Leave him be,” Pelonius told her as he helped her and Marcus back to their feet. “Out there, he can be what the gods meant him to be, the world’s greatest predator. In here, with us, he would be nearly helpless.”
The dark wolves had by now surrounded their formation, with another ring forming around Hercules as he faced off against the alpha. The muscles in the hexatiger’s back and legs rippled, and he roared his challenge. The alpha stared at him with black, dead eyes, and responded in kind.
As if it were a signal, the animals surrounding the defensive square formation charged, diverting Hercules’ attention for just a split second. The alpha used it to good use, sprinting forward to nip at the hexatiger’s shoulder.
“No!” Valeria screamed as Hercules whirled in rage and pain to snap at the beast, which dodged away to one side while the others of its pack bore in with savage growls as they sought to sink their jaws into the big cat’s flesh.
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