She turned slightly, and asked one of the druids sharing the table with her, “You’re sure that the earth here will respond to your call? It is not our land.”
“It is not our land,” he agreed, watching the foreign Vascones continuing to argue with their Romans. He was a large man, almost as covered in woad tattoos as she was, but the style was different, as was his accent, which she recognized as Caledonian. “But the spirits here are angry,” he continued. “They hate the touch of Rome on this land as much as their people do. But the heart of this land is untouched. No one here besides the Cantabri knows the secret ways of awakening it.” His eyes flicked up towards the towering shelf of ice that capped the mountain. “The Cantabri have been warned. They’ll move out of the way on our signal, if the battle does come here.”
She sighed. “We should have taken the battle to the Romans long ago. We lost a patrol. And the birds are restless here. The ravens speak to me. Tell me that there is one among the Romans who reaches out for their minds, though they try to avoid her touch.” She bared her teeth, something that made most outsiders flinch. For in her mouth, wolf fangs curled, wild and cruel.
“They want nothing more than for us to come to them, and fight on their terms,” the druid counseled her. “Patience, daughter of the Morrigan. When the time comes, you’ll bathe in Roman blood.” Another glance towards the mountain’s peak. “And they, and our good Roman allies, will die screaming in fear.”
She finally smiled, and it made her face feel as if it might crack. “What is your name, priest?” She hadn’t asked, not on any of the long days spent huddled in a boat to get to Gaul, or the long nights spent riding south to these mountains.
His eyebrows rose over his bright blue eyes. “Matru. Once of the Caledoni. Now, of the gods. And of the people.”
She nodded, eying the continuing arguments. “Matru of the Caledoni, have you taken any oaths of celibacy?”
He shook his head.
“Then will you take me off into the woods and fuck me?” Her tone was polite and distant. “I grow weary of this arguing. And every man should have a son to follow him, should he die.”
His eyebrows remained arched. “Lady, I am a man already dead. I sang at my own funeral before we left our native shores. If I return there, I will live again. But the dead have no business with getting and begetting.”
“Is that a no?” The passing fancy had almost passed.
“Not exactly.” He gave the Romans a dark look. “It will mightily offend them. Which is all the more reason to do it.” Matru stood, offering her one large hand, and they headed off into the trees, her wolf padding at their feet.
“Here now, where are you going?” a Roman in shining metal armor blustered at them. Aucissa turned back to stare at him expressionlessly. “I thought you were their secret weapon.” He jerked his head at the blank-faced Cantabri sitting around the open space at the center of the small village. “You need to stay here to know how you fit in with the tactics.”
The druid beside her replied, “The lady understands your speech. She chooses not to foul her mouth with your language. And she is well aware of what part she’ll play in the battle to come, and is bored with listening to you all.” He bowed very slightly to her, and they left the spluttering Romans behind them.
And deep in the trees, she let him take her on her hands and knees. Feeling nothing, as usual, until he reached around from behind her, stroking thoroughly, and whispered in her ear, “They’ll die screaming.”
“Yes,” she murmured.
“Twisted and broken under the ice and rock.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Paying with their blood and their lives for everything they’ve taken from us.”
And for the first time in close to ten years, Aucissa felt the glorious fire build in her, building to bliss. When they’d both finished, she murmured, “How did you know what to say?”
He pulled his robes back over his head. “My lady, I am a bard as well as a priest. I know the secrets of people’s souls.” He gave her a long glance as the wool fell down around his shoulders again. “You don’t want love. The only thing that will fill you properly is hate.”
It made sense. “If I have a son, I’ll send him to your family.” It was, after all, the least she could do. Assuming she survived.
Back in the village, a storm of ravens met her, chattering. She cocked her head to the side, and announced in a dialect that the Cantabri, at least, could understand, “The Romans have left their fortress. They approach the foot of the mountain now.”
Matru translated her words for the Romans and the Vascones and the Ilergetae, using Latin. “What’s their troop disposition, and what route are they taking up the mountain?” the leader of the Romans, a man with the uncouth name of Tillius, asked eagerly.
She listened to the birds again. “They’re splitting their forces where the paths diverge at the southern side of the mountain,” Aucissa replied. “One third of the foot troops take the eastern approach, and will wind their way to the wall you’ve established on that side of the village.” She nodded in the appropriate direction. “They have cavalry with them, but only perhaps two thousand. The other two thirds of the foot troops have split off and are taking the western face.”
“They undoubtedly think that they will have the element of surprise, and that they’ll grind us between them,” Tillius said, smacking his fist into his palm. He looked up the face of the mountain, where he and his men had established a camp above the tree line, just under the shadow of the glacier. The land wasn’t level, but it was already clear of trees, and, as the Cantabri had mendaciously pointed out, it ensured that anyone who wanted to attack the fortifications would have to fight all the way uphill.
The logic of that statement had appealed to the Romans, who’d wasted several months building in wood and stone what would be swept away in heartbeats.
“I’ll call my men down into the village,” he said now. “We’ll stand beside you, and give Caesarion an embarrassment he’ll never recover from.”
Aucissa swept the village with her gaze. Everything was as ready as it could be. Two thousand archers were sprinkled through the woods, lining the roads below. They had cavalry scouts positioned along all the roads, both for speed in bringing messages up the winding, switchback trails, and to lure the Romans into increasing speed. The archers also had stockpiles of boulders positioned at key points along the trail, ready to roll down cliff-faces to crush the bodies of the invaders and bowl them over the sides of the mountains.
The village itself, which had no name that she knew of, was nestled into a perfect strategic point. To the north, the steep incline that lead to the Roman castra. To the south, a sheer cliff that dropped fifty feet or more, straight down into towering trees, the topmost leaves of which were level with her feet when she stood on the edge. And the natural terrace of rock on which the houses all stood was narrow enough that two strong walls, built by their Roman allies, with two towers filled with archers each, could hold as chokepoints—unless the invaders brought rams with them. Or heavy, slow machines, such as the vaunted ballistae.
Of course, the boulders and the archers would help deter the Romans from bringing such weapons to bear. She licked her lips, suddenly unbearably excited. Aucissa stripped off her vest and skirt, ignoring the startled exclamations and raucous calls of the Romans and Vascones. She cut her own palm open with the point of her spear, and spread her blood over her own face. Then she pressed her bleeding hand to Matru’s face, and each of the druids in turn as they filed past her. Each of them cut their own hands, smearing their blood over her body, till she was daubed from head to toe, and she could feel it tingling. Their blood fused with her flesh to make it strong as iron, just as the tattoos worked into her skin and theirs were intended to turn away arrows.
The druids, too, shucked their robes, but instead of painting themselves with blood, painted themselves with woad. All the Cantabri did the same, and their voices rose in song.
Funeral songs, wishing each other and the world farewell, in case they died today.
The Romans simply stood, staring in bafflement. She heard them muttering about superstition and witchcraft, and laughed under her breath as the druids, one by one, began to sing again.
And the spirits came out of the forest, the spirits they’d brought with them from Britannia. A black stag with red eyes came for her, and she leaped up onto its bare back, accepting her spear and buckler from Matru. A black bear for him. A sable serpent, the size of a horse, for another druid. The Vascones and Ilergetae had started to back away now, their eyes wild, and the Romans, who’d marched down from their camp, stood in their ranks, their armor shining, and she could smell the fear in their sweat, and the wolf at her heel snarled. “To the rise,” she told her companions, nodding to the prepared area. “Fear is our ally today. Let all Rome taste it.”
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Eurydice had begged not to be left with the baggage in the valley. “Sister—beloved—” that last in Egyptian. “I can’t guarantee your safety,” Caesarion had told her. “You don’t wear armor. You can’t march in the heart of a testudo.” I can’t keep you safe up there. “You’ve scouted the whole area for us. You’ve told us what we’re walking into—men moving through the woods. Prepared ambush points. Walls and archers in towers once we get up there, and probably close to sixteen thousand men, all told, strung throughout this whole mountain. Waiting for us.”
“No, I can’t do either of those things,” Eurydice had whispered, clutching his wrist. “But I can’t bear to sit down here at the foot of the mountain, watching but unable to affect anything.” She’d met his eyes then. “You’ve asked me to work on how my magic can be applied to combat. Put Malleolus with me for protection, and let me use my magic.”
He’d wanted nothing more than to kiss her then. Thoroughly. But he couldn’t, because the doorway behind them was open. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice stern, and clearly audible to anyone who might have been listening in the office outside the living quarters. “You can’t be baggage for this. I won’t stand for it, and the men won’t, either.”
Eurydice lifted her chin. “I think I am,” she replied, her voice tight. “There’s no drill for this, brother. There’s no centurion who can evaluate me and say ‘this one’s ready for the line.’” She swallowed visibly. “And if it comes to it—I can’t bear to watch people die anymore through the hawk’s eyes. Not when I have the power to help prevent it.” She paused, and added, her voice still taut, “There’s no real difference between my going with you, and Alexander.”
Except that Alexander is my brother, not my sister and beloved. And he’s trained for this since he was six, and has witnessed battles before. Of course, she’s witnessed battles before, too. Gods. I can’t stand the idea of her being in harm’s way. But she’s right. It’s time she used her gifts as the gods clearly meant for her to do. “Accipitra,” he muttered. “You’ll stay at the back of the column of the Tenth. Between us and the Seventh. With the ballistae and the medici at first. That’s the most protection I can give you—the men around the engines will have their shields up to protect the gear. And you, too. And yes. Mal will be with you. He did his best to keep Alexander alive when the assassins attacked us at the Forum.”
“And he’s spent every waking moment of the last two years trying to make up for that failure,” she reminded him.
If he keeps you alive today, I’ll consider the debt repaid. But he couldn’t say those words, either. Just gave her a tight embrace, hoping it conveyed all the other unspoken sentiments that the world denied them for now, and helped her onto her horse after the ritual sacrifices to Mars. The wide-eyed stares of the men clearly indicated that they thought he’d lost his damned mind. And maybe I have. But I know that my battles are won when she’s with me. They say that fortune comes from the gods. I think it comes from good planning—and applying power to a point. Here’s hoping that she can apply hers.
One-third of the Fourth remained at the castra to hold it. The other four thousand men, and the two thousand cavalry auxiliaries, had been instructed to wend their way up the eastern face of the mountain—a slightly longer route; they’d likely arrive well after the main force had begun its attack on the western wall. Caesarion had a few other tricks in mind, however. On seeing the sheer drop that served as a third wall on the southern side of the village on Eurydice’s carefully-drawn maps, he’d sighed and ordered his men to carry pitch and torches. “You’re going to burn the forest,” Cicero Minor had said in shock. “What happens if it catches all around us? Would you roast your own forces alive? Or have them choke on smoke?”
Caesarion had shaken his head. “The village is right at the treeline. Worst comes to worst, we climb a little higher, to the peak, and wait it out. The snow-cap will give us all the water we need, and we can all live a few days without food beyond whatever we carry with us in our belt-pouches. I want these people frightened and off-balance, Cicero. There’s nothing like watching the land you’ve called your home going up in flames to ensure that state of mind.” He paused, and added, calmly, “The prevailing winds here are from the northwest. The fire should spread downslope, away from us. Though the men left with the baggage might do well to keep an eye on it.”
After that planning meeting, and in private, Eurydice had murmured, quietly, “The spirits of this land avoid us already. The spirits of this mountain and its forests won’t thank us for the fire.”
Caesarion had grimaced. He hadn’t seen so much as a single spirit since they’d arrived in Hispania. “No. They won’t. Any more than the people. But if it makes them more apt to throw down their weapons and surrender? I’ll take it.”
She’d met his eyes then. “And if they surrender? Will you leave them alive?”
“The leaders of the Tillii? Absolutely not. As for the rest?” He’d considered it dispassionately. “Ask me when the fighting’s over just how much clementia I feel like giving that day.” The word held a very specific meaning in Latin: You live, but only because I am more powerful, and I have graciously permitted you to continue to breathe.
Thus, as the first arrows rattled off the raised shields of the men as they marched up the mountain’s steep sides, Caesarion gritted his teeth and wondered how the cavalry he’d sent with the Fourth were doing. They could be picked off one by one, unable to shield their horses—but that’s why they were trailing the infantry for the moment. Should look into horse armor, like the Parthian cataphracts. Thought for another time. Nothing he could do but endure and hold his position in line with all the rest—no horse for him today. Just one of the faceless many, at the heart of the Tenth.
Then boulders started rolling down the cliff-faces from above, breaking the lines as men tried to leap out of the way, or were caught by twenty-pound rocks, travelling swiftly. Crunch of bone, cries of pain. And the lines of men faltered for a moment, and then they pulled back together again, getting their shields back up. “Get eyes on those fuckers!” a centurion roared from deep in the line. “Anyone see them?”
Eurydice did. At the rear of the column that made up the Tenth’s men, just ahead of the bulk of the Seventh, blind to everything but the hawk’s sight, and led, stumbling over the rough track by Malleolus, but she saw the ambushers. Some fifty feet above Caesarion’s head, her hawk stooped into the canopy of the trees with a wild cry. And then a man screamed in agony, and lurched out over the edge of the cliff, clutching at his face and beating at the bird that had clawed his face and head open. One wrong step—and down he came, like a graceless doll, limbs flying and twisting unnaturally as he rolled to a halt. The bird swooped overhead, and as Caesarion stepped over the man’s body, he could see that the eyes had been plucked out.
____________________
A roar of approval went up from the Tenth and Seventh, but Eurydice could do only so much. She’d never controlled more than one bird at a time, and there were ambushers in every copse of trees. I need to do more. O
h, gods, there went another boulder—oh, gods. More men cried out in pain, and she saw three more swept over the edge, not fifty feet in front of her. Fury rose in her, and she hissed out the words of a spell, using the hawk’s sight to target the correct copse of trees. Then dropped out of the hawk’s mind to light them afire, ripping flame from one of the torches carried by the legionnaires beside her to throw it some sixty feet above her head. Startled shouts and screams from the men hiding there, and another roar of loud approval from the Tenth and Seventh. “Keep it up, domina!” Malleolus encouraged her. “Do that to every nest of the damned hornets that you can find.” He paused, then called over the sound of booted feet and jingling gear around them. “Though it might make marching uphill an adventure. Straight into the inferno.”
“I’ll take the fire back when we get up there,” Eurydice replied, feeling as if she were floating. “Fire’s . . . becoming a very good friend.”
“Will take your word for that, domina.” Mal called back uneasily, keeping himself and his shield between her and the right-hand side of the track, from which most of the incoming fire came. “Can’t you do something about the boulders themselves? Break them?”
“I would if I could.” Eurydice had already flung herself back into the hawk’s mind. “Never yet seen a spell that dealt with stone. I could shroud the men with fog . . . but then they couldn’t see where they’re going—ah!” A sudden rush of relief passed through her, quickly fading. “One of Tahut’s spells would bring darkness over one group of attackers at a time. But that leaves all the others ready to roll their stones down on the line—”
“Stay with the fire, domina,” Malleolus told her, and she heard something rattle at close range off his shield. Her head swung towards him, and he shoved her down to the track, keeping his shield over her head. More impacts, all around them, and the distinct thunk as an arrow penetrated the outer layers of his shield. “Though,” he added, sounding harried, “if you’ve a mind to use fire on that lot—”
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