Over the next hour, Pelonius, Marcus, and the senior engineer of Legio Hercules gave Tiberius an overview of the plans for The Wall itself, as well as the sites chosen where additional forts would be sited to provide quarters for the incoming legions. Then they took him on a tour of The Wall of Hercules. It now sported an impressive arsenal of onagers and scorpions, which were mounted on temporary platforms because The Wall was still being built higher. Pelonius, however, had not been content to wait to install them until The Wall was finished.
After the engineer had explained the procedure for moving the weapons as each new layer of stone was added to the structure, Tiberius turned to Pelonius. “You’re expecting an attack soon, aren’t you?”
Pelonius leaned forward on the temporary wooden railing that lined the top of The Wall, looking out across the waves to the shadows of the smoking mountains in the far distance. “An eclipse will soon be upon us, and it will bring with it the highest tide of the entire year…and the lowest. Based on what I have been able to gather from the local fishermen, I believe the bridge will lay completely exposed for a good six hours, possibly more.”
“That’s hardly enough time to move an invasion force that distance.”
“You’re assuming that we know how far away the Dark Lands truly are,” Pelonius reminded him, “but we don’t. The distance to the horizon from where we stand here, upon The Wall, is perhaps six or seven miles. From the low hills behind us, we can see somewhat farther, I would guess ten or twelve miles or so. We know the mountains are doubtless farther away, just from their appearance, but the nearest approach of the Dark Lands could be just beyond what we can see and we would never know. No one has ever gone deeper into the Haunted Sea and lived to tell the tale.”
“Except Karan.”
Pelonius nodded. “Except Karan.”
“But it took him several days to make it here,” Tiberius said. “Surely the distance must be more than twelve or so miles.”
“Perhaps,” Pelonius said, but his voice held a sharp edge of doubt. “But remember that Karan made his way here entirely by accident, staggering blindly through rain, wind, and wave, having no idea where he was actually headed. Were we to set off from here, knowing as we do what lies across the water, we could march a legion across such a distance in far less time.” He paused. “It would be faster, of course, with cavalry.”
“Or these mythical elephants,” Tiberius added. “Of course, it all depends on the surface of this bridge. If its length is nothing but uneven rocks, that would slow things considerably.”
Pelonius shook his head. “After speaking in more detail with Karan, I believe that it may in fact be mostly flat, and that the rocks may actually just be random, or perhaps debris. Acting on a suggestion from Valeria, I swam out as far as I dared and dove to the bottom to where the bridge lies to test my theory. Aside from a coating of sand, which must come and go with the waves and tides, it was remarkably flat.” He frowned. “I have to wonder if it isn’t a natural feature at all, but was built by human hands.”
“Or those of the Masters,” Tiberius countered in a dark voice. “Perhaps they built the bridge in ancient times to reach us, but did not anticipate that Neptune would submerge it beneath the sea in our defense.” He said nothing more for a time, but stared out at the beautiful water that, not far beyond where he could see, turned deadly. “Of course, we are ignoring the fact that any who marched out upon the bridge would die from whatever evil spirits inhabit these waters.”
“In fair weather, yes,” Pelonius agreed, “but if Fortune smiled upon us and granted us a storm at an opportune time in conjunction with the tides…”
Tiberius breathed in the air that smelled of salt and the sea. It was warm, but not insufferably so, even beneath his armor. “You have all done well,” he commended them, “and your endeavors have brought great glory to Rome.” He turned to face them: Pelonius, Marcus, Paulus, Septimus, and the commanding general and a handful of officers from Victrix. “But I would task you with something even more difficult.”
Pelonius arched his eyebrows. “Caesar?”
Turning back to regard the smoldering mountains in the distance, Tiberius said, “Defending the Empire is not enough. I want you to find me a way to land men on the far shore while we await greater favor from the gods. We need to know more about the enemies we may have to face.”
***
Valeria couldn’t sleep. Even Hercules, who normally collapsed to the floor and snored like a drunkard at every opportunity, was restless. She could see his huge eyes glowing in the darkness, which was broken only by the shielded light of a candle on a wall sconce, and his tail twitched like a nervous snake among the dark shadows.
With a sigh, she threw off the silk sheet and sat up. Hercules got to his feet and came to her, butting his huge head against her chest, demanding attention. She giggled as his cold nose pressed against her belly. “That tickles,” she whispered as she scratched him under the chin the way he liked.
I’m so bored, she lamented to herself. As happy as she had been to see her father when he had arrived, she almost regretted it now. Life since her parents had arrived had become a mimicry of Rome, with her — a mere woman — shut out of meetings and left out of any decision making. Before, Pelonius, may the gods bless him, had seen fit to include her in the staff and planning meetings. Most of the other officers, even Marcus, had been taken aback by such a radical idea, but they had quickly warmed to it after she had proven through her knowledge and wit that she had something worthwhile to contribute. It was she, in fact, who had suspected that the bridge might not be an aberration of nature, and had told Pelonius as much, which in turn had led him to swim out to investigate. Pelonius had come to her defense, trying to secure her a seat in the meetings, but her father had decided otherwise. And once she had been shut out of all the interesting goings-on, including watching the men train (her presence was too much of a distraction to the men, her father had said), she felt just as useless and aimless as she had back in Rome. Except now there were not even any boring parties or festivities to help while away the time. She wasn’t even allowed to visit the followers camp. She shared meals with father, when he could be spared from duty, and mother, of course; but she saw less of Pelonius and Paulus than she would have liked, and even Marcus and Septimus were scarcely to be seen these days, occupied as they were with The Wall and all the logistics required to house and feed more legions.
“It’s not fair,” she told Hercules, who grunted as if in agreement as she moved her hands to his ears, gently stroking them as he sat down on his hindquarters and put his head in her lap.
In truth, the only one who hadn’t made himself a stranger had been Karan. While he wasn’t much for conversation, he always greeted her at the start and end of each day, and any time she was outside her quarters he was always in sight of her (“Forever in bowshot,” Septimus had once quipped). Even when she slept, he could usually be found sitting on the ground, legs crossed, beside the building opposite her quarters. Not very close, but close enough.
The only exception was at night. Not long after the cornicens sounded the end of day call for the legion, Karan would disappear for a time into the jungle. The sentries, of course, let him pass, for he was not only an honored guest of Caesar himself, but had as much a hand in saving the legion as had Hercules. She had asked him once what he did during his nightly sojourns, and he had said, “I do what the sword requires.” But he would say no more.
Her lips turned up in a mischievous smile. “I think it’s time dear Karan’s great secret was revealed.” Her father would be incensed, but if she didn’t do something to relieve her boredom she was going to die.
Gently pushing Hercules aside, she got up and retrieved her soldier’s garb from the bottom of one of the trunks of clothing her mother had brought along. Octavia had insisted that Valeria rid herself of the uniform she had worn after the battle with the Dark Wolves, which bore no resemblance to the shiny set of armor Valeria ha
d worn on her departure from Rome. Valeria had done as her mother had demanded in a great show of submission, but that night had gone back and rooted every single piece out of the trash wagon and hidden the contraband beneath her clothes of proper repute.
She dressed quietly, careful not to rouse the attention of the sentries posted outside her room. They were still men from her original guard detachment, but ones she knew only in passing, for they were too terrified of both Marcus and her father to speak to her like she was an actual person.
“You’re going to have to help me, Hercules,” she whispered into the big cat’s ear. Then she opened another box, which was among the largest her mother had seen fit to bring. It was Hercules’s toy box. Even in the near-dark, she could see the hexatiger perk up, and he began to drool. Reaching in, she pulled out a large blue ball, bigger around than her head, that was his favorite. It was made of layers of thick hide sewn around a core of tightly packed stones and sand. At its center was a dried coconut with a bell that rattled when the ball rolled. It was one of the few toys that had survived more than a single exposure to the hexatiger’s toothy exuberance.
Moving silently toward the curtains that closed off her chambers, she stifled a giggle. Hercules stalked her, his big eyes fixed on the ball, his body tense, ready to spring. “Now,” she whispered, “have fun, but make sure you don’t accidentally hurt anyone.”
Hercules, of course, made no such promise.
With one last thought that perhaps this wasn’t such a wonderful idea — a thought that was immediately quashed before it could take root — she slung the ball through the curtains into the peristyle beyond.
The ball had barely left her hands when Hercules launched himself after it, sailing like a great predatory bird through the curtains.
The peaceful quietude of the peristyle, which formed a porch around the open courtyard of the peristylium at the center of the temporary palatial quarters, was obliterated by shouts of surprise, running feet, and the tinkling of the bell inside the blue ball.
Darting through the curtains, looking like one of the shorter soldiers to any who might take notice, she suppressed a grin as Hercules tore about the peristylium, knocking the ball to and fro with his huge front paws as the praetorians fought to get out of his way. A bust of Gaius Julius Caesar was sent flying, flowers were trampled, and half the water in the pool around the central fountain exploded into the air as Hercules charged through it in his single minded pursuit of the ball. Fortunately, every man of the Praetorian Guard was well acquainted with Hercules and his antics, and none would be so foolish as to try and bring harm to the beast. Not only would they incur her own wrath and that of Caesar himself, but Hercules would likely make short work of such a fool. She need not have worried: they were far more interested in keeping out of the big cat’s way.
Satisfied that her deception was working, she fled outside before heading toward the south gate, the Porta principalis sinistra.
***
The pandemonium Hercules had unleashed was just beginning to subside as she entered the jungle, having easily bluffed her way past the gate’s guards. Fortunately, the moon was nearly full, casting a soft glow from the heavens. A tingle of fear rippled down her spine as she pushed farther into the dense foliage along one of the many trails left in the sandy soil. Surely there are no Dark Wolves about, she told herself. Her fear soon gave way to doubt as she realized that she had overlooked one minor problem: she had no idea where Karan might be out in this wilderness, and had no way to find him other than blundering about, shouting his name, which she had no intention of doing. Such oversights were an unfortunate downside to her impulsive behavior that she hadn’t yet figured out how to overcome.
“Nothing is out here that can hurt me,” she whispered to herself as she pressed forward. “And I will find him. I will.”
She jumped six inches straight up as a howler monkey shrieked from the trees directly overhead.
“Quiet!” she hissed at the small black form.
The monkey, apparently satisfied that it had scared the life out of her, made no further outbursts, but continued to follow her progress with curious eyes.
Muttering an oath she had learned from Septimus, she kept going, unsure of her path, but sure that the gods would lead her to where she wanted to go.
It was some time later when she heard him. Or, rather, she heard the telltale sound of a sword slashing the air before encountering something more substantial.
Moving as quietly as she could, lying to herself that she didn’t want to interrupt Karan, but knowing the truth was that she wanted to observe him without his knowing she was watching, she tiptoed toward the sound. At last, she found herself peering through the ferns that ringed a small clearing where Karan stood, sword in hand. He wore his trousers and sandals, but his torso was bare, his skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat that reflected the moon glow as if the light came from his own body. He stood still as a marble statue now, the sword held above his head in both hands. Then, impossibly fast, he brought the sword down in a savage cut, pirouetted, then made a diagonal downward cut through a bamboo stalk as big around as her leg that he had propped up in the center of the clearing. The bamboo seemed to offer no resistance to the silver blade as a six inch section toppled to the ground.
Before it could reach the sand, he had slashed again, taking off another section, then another. Before the last section hit the ground, he had whirled away with uncanny grace, the sword moving as if it were an extension of his body, slicing and stabbing at imaginary opponents. The moves were deadly, no doubt, but they were also exquisitely beautiful, like water dancing to music created by the gods themselves, the moonlight flaring across his well-defined muscles.
She watched in silence, mesmerized, until she suddenly found herself gasping for air. She had forgotten to breathe.
Karan’s dancing came to a sudden halt, and she felt a stab of guilt as he turned toward her. He would think she had been spying on him.
As if reading her mind, he said in a soft voice, “Do not be afraid Valeria. I knew you were there. It’s all right. Come out. Please.”
Feeling even more guilty, she pushed into the clearing. “Forgive me, Karan,” she said. “I didn’t mean to spy on you. I was just curious.” Then she stopped and furrowed her brow in thought. “How did you know I was here? Was it that stupid monkey?”
He smiled. In the moonlight, all but the worst scars were nearly invisible, and she felt a disquieting, yet pleasant, sensation of warmth blossom in her belly.
“I heard him, of course, but I didn’t know then who might be out here. The soldiers often come to the jungle with women from the followers camp, but they never come this far.” He leaned closer and made a show of sniffing the air. “You move quietly for one who is not a Sword, but your perfume gave you away long before you reached me.”
“Do you like it?” she blurted. An image of Paulus flashed into her mind, and she instantly regretted the words. Rather, she regretted saying them for only an instant.
“Yes,” he said simply as he sheathed his sword. “But you do not need perfume. It masks your true scent, which is pleasant enough on its own.”
Stepping closer, she removed her helmet and dropped it to the ground. “Karan…do you have anyone across the sea waiting for you?”
His expression darkened. “Only my Master.”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant. Was there not a girl who meant something to you?”
He shook his head. “Swords are not permitted to mate. We are wed to our blades for as long as we might live.” He held up the sword. “You speak of love. The only thing I have ever truly loved is this. It is all the love I have ever been permitted.”
“So…you’ve never even kissed anyone?”
Again, he shook his head.
Cursing herself, knowing she would regret it, but unable to help herself, she leaned forward and rose on her tiptoes until her lips met his. He tasted of salt and sweat, but his lips were warm and
soft.
She had kissed boys, including Paulus, before, but she had gone to great pains to ensure such scandalous behavior had not been obvious to her parents, although she suspected that her mother had known.
But this was somehow different. For one thing, Karan’s body went completely rigid and he unconsciously sucked in his breath in surprise, which only served to deepen the kiss. She put her arms around his neck and drew him closer, and felt his hands touch her sides with a sense of shocked reluctance, as if her skin were burning hot. His touch sent electric jolts through her body.
Finally drawing away to catch her breath, she couldn’t help but smile at his stunned expression. “Your eyes are as big around as serving plates,” she whispered.
“As are mine, I’m sure,” said a familiar voice from the darkness behind her.
With a gasp, she pushed herself away from Karan and whirled around to find Paulus standing at the edge of the clearing, a guilty looking Hercules beside him. Pelonius had long ago taught Hercules a command that could be used to have the great beast track her, and so he had led Paulus here. It was hard to see the expression on Paulus’s face in the light of the moon at this distance, but he certainly wasn’t smiling. His eyes were indeed wide with what could only be shock and hurt.
Behind him stood Septimus, who put his hand over his eyes and slowly shook his head.
“Paulus,” she pleaded, “I can explain—”
“You need explain nothing to a mere soldier, Princess Valeria,” Paulus cut her off in a tightly controlled voice. “But Caesar demands your presence. At once.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“By the gods, what did you think you were doing?”
Valeria stood before her father in the praetorium, red-faced with embarrassment. She knew she should feel ashamed, as well, but that particular emotion had thus far eluded her. She looked up at him and gulped. She had never seen him so angry before. Even worse, her mother, who stood beside Tiberius, wouldn’t meet Valeria’s eyes.
Vulcan's Fury: The Dark Lands Page 18