LOST LEGIO IX
The Karus Saga
MARC ALAN EDELHEIT
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Lost Legio IX: The Karus Saga – Book One
First Edition
Copyright © 2017 by Marc Edelheit. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
I wish to thank my agent, Andrea Hurst, for her invaluable support and assistance. I would also like to thank my beta readers, who suffered through several early drafts. My betas: Barrett McKinney, Jon Cockes, Norman Stiteler, Nicolas Weiss, Stephan Kobert, Matthew Ashley, Melinda Vallem, Jon Quast, Donavan Laskey, Paul Klebaur, Russ Wert, James Doak, David Cheever, Bruce Heaven, Erin Penny, Jonas Ortega Rodriguez, April Faas, Rodney Gigone, Brandon Purcell, Steve Sibert, Tim Adams, and Brett Smith. I would also like to take a moment to thank my loving wife who sacrificed many an evening and weekends to allow me to work on my writing.
Editing Assistance by Hannah Streetman, Shannon Roberts, Audrey Mackaman
Cover Art by Piero Mng (Gianpiero Mangialardi)
Cover Formatting by Telemachus Press
Agented by Andrea Hurst & Associates
Chronicles of a Legionary Officer:
Book One: Stiger’s Tiger
Amazon put Hyperlink here: https://www.amazon.com/Stigerss-Chronicles-Imperial-Legionary-Officer-ebook/dp/B00V5C3OIW?ie=UTF8&qid=1447542073&ref_=tmm_kin_swatch_0&sr=8-1
Book Two: The Tiger
Amazon put Hyperlink here: https://www.amazon.com/Tiger-Chronicles-Imperial-Legionary-Officer-ebook/dp/B018KGKS9S/ref=pd_sim_351_1?ie=UTF8&dpID=51FA6fhDHGL&dpSrc=sims&preST=_UX300_PJku-sticker-v3%2CTopRight%2C0%2C-44_OU01_AC_UL160_SR100%2C160_&refRID=ZQ1M8ADK455JDPSBEWMV
Book Three: The Tiger’s Fate
Amazon put Hyperlink here: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01HJVZZXE/ref=series_rw_dp_sw
Tales of the Seventh:
Book One: Stiger, Tales of the Seventh Part One
Amazon put Hyperlink here: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01MXPMF0A/ref=series_rw_dp_sw
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Lost Legio IX and the tale it kicks off take place many years before Stiger’s Tigers. Karus and Amarra’s story is one I wanted to tell long before I introduced you to Stiger. There will be at least five books in this series.
Please keep in mind writing is a hobby for me and reviews keep me motivated and help to drive sales. I read each one.
I hope you enjoy Lost Legio IX and a sincere thank you for your purchase.
Best regards,
Marc Alan Edelheit, author and your tour guide to the worlds of Tannis and Istros
I would like to dedicate this book to my three little meatballs:
Isabella, Juliana, and Amelia Rose.
CONTENTS
PART ONE
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
PART TWO
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
AUTHOR’S NOTES:
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
ORGANIZATION
NINTH LEGIO, HISPANA
Legionary Symbol: Bull
The Ninth was arranged into ten legionary cohorts of four hundred eighty men each, with the exception of First Cohort, which was maintained at double strength. Led by a legate, the Ninth, along with her five auxiliary cohorts, was a formidable combat unit staffed with professional soldiers who were highly disciplined and trained.
Senior Officers:
Legate: Vellius Rufus Julionus
Tribune: Crispinus Martialis Saturninus
Camp Prefect: Aquila Desidus Tarbo (Deceased)
Junior Tribune: Tiberius Garius Delvaris
Senior Centurions of the Legion:
1st Cohort: Lucius Grackus Lisidius Karus
2nd Cohort: Tacitus Cestius Dio
3rd Cohort: Balbus Bassus Titus
4th Cohort Gallus Felix
5th Cohort: Verran Flaccus
6th Cohort: Ulpuis Mettius (Recently Reconstituted)
7th Cohort: Manlius Varno
8th Cohort: Fadenus Artunus
9th Cohort: Melanda Frontinus
10th Cohort: Catus Didius
Allied Auxiliary Cohorts Prefects:
Ala Agrippiana Miniata: Cavalry Cohort – Tricianus Valens
First Nervorium Cohort: Light Infantry – Arminus Autun Otho
Second Vasconum CR Cohort: Light Infantry – Gordian Varno
Fourth Delmatarum Cohort: Light Infantry – Maximus Geta Haemus
Fifth Raetorum Cohort: Light Infantry – Cestus Pactus
Surgeon:
Anatolius Demosthenes Ampelius
Other Legions Characters:
Fadius, Titus, Akamas, Iamus, Pammon, Thoon, Saccus, Pulmonus, Janus, Ajax, Sextus, Arentus, Cestus, Macrinus, Arrens, Daemon, Marci, Crix, Mettis, Ternus, Serma, Ipax, Mika, Sadeus, Cleotis, Paro, Ganarus, Sextus, Marus, Argus, Drusus
Civilians: Keeli, Milza, Illya, Elena, Harikas, Cylenia, Lohert
PART ONE
PROLOGUE
‘For these I set no bounds in space or time; but have given empire without end.’
—Jupiter, Virgil’s Aeneid.
“Why are we here, Blue?”
Opening his eyes, Blue took a deep breath of the crisp early morning air and then slowly released it. He thoroughly enjoyed the cooler climates. It almost brought him back to his youth, and the dank chill air of the underground. Almost.
Blue assessed his energy stores from casting the transference spell. It had taken him years to accumulate the energy he now held, and he dared not waste too much. Satisfied that he’d drained little of his reserves, he waved his staff and spun a masking shroud over the two of them before anyone noticed their presence. Such a minor spell barely drew enough energy for him to be bothered. Still, with all that he had planned and prepared for, it was unwise to squander too much, even insignificant amounts.
“This seems a place of no import,” the other said with disdain as he glanced around them. “A military camp? Really?”
The morning light was still dim, and a misty fog swirled around their feet. The two stood in the middle of a central parade ground. A few strands of hardy grass poked up from amongst the moist, packed-down dirt.
“High Master of Obsidian,” Blue crowed. “A grand title for a wizard of nearly godlike power, and yet such little patience. Aren’t elves known for their placidity? Sometimes, my friend, Vera’Far, I wonder what went wrong with you.”
Blue himself was a High Master, one of only a handful the gods permitted. In truth, the High Masters were disciples of their respective gods, and though both Blue and Obsidian were aligned in purpose, each answered to different masters.
“Rarokan, I will not be put off.” Obsidian turned on him, robes rustling.
Blue offered the elf a flat look at the use of his given name. Despite his appearance, Obsidian was ancient. Yet like those of his race, he carried the timeless grace of youth. The only telltale signs of age were in the eyes. Deadened by time beyond end and, perhaps, Blue reflected, years of unremitting war. Both had suffered, and Blue had tired of it. It was why he had brought them to this forbidden place.
“Well, then,” Blue said as he studied the other wizard. A sigh escaped his lips. “It has been an age since we last met. It seems you have changed little in that time, both in attitude and dress.”
Blue, in an exaggerated manner, swept his eyes over the other wizard. Obsidian wore a well-cut midnight-black robe that seemed to flow down around him. The elf had grown out his hair. Black, silky, and shining, it was combed to perfection and had been pulled back into a ponytail, secured by a delicate golden clasp at the back of his neck. A thin gold circlet was perched upon his head. Blue had never seen his friend without the crown. It was encrusted with small azure crystals, which, in the early morning light, gave off a faint hint of a pale glow.
The elf brought his staff, a crystalline miracle that no mortal hand could have ever crafted, down with a soft thud on the soft ground. Etched with arcane runes, the staff throbbed with power, occasionally brightening, before settling back to a dull, somber radiance.
Blue considered the staff. Perhaps it was a true relic of the First Ones? The few who remained now called themselves the Noctalum and had once walked the worlds with the gods at their sides.
“Why are we here, Blue? Are you going to answer me?” Obsidian demanded as the mist, propelled by a gentle gust, swirled between them.
“Time has not mellowed your demanding nature,” Blue said as he dragged his eyes away from his friend’s staff. Most elves had a sense of humor; his friend here had never fully developed one. Nor did the elf seem to recognize irony when he heard it.
“Humor, I presume?” Obsidian let out an exasperated breath and thumped his staff upon the ground again.
Blue glanced down at the six age-gnarled fingers of his right hand gripped loosely around his own staff. Crafted by his own hand, Blue’s staff was made from a simple Theoak tree. The staff was topped with a misshapen sapphire crystal that throbbed with a dull, sullen power. His staff was nothing compared to the elegance of Obsidian’s, and yet in the right hands, it was just as powerful a tool. He flexed the thick fingers of his hand, each adorned by a large gold ring set with a crystal. These glowed brightly, almost fiercely. Small flashes of energy sparked and crackled from ring to ring in rapid, soundless discharges. Blue no longer felt the accompanying tingle that originated from his storage devices. He had lived with the feeling so long that he no longer paid it any mind.
“I should have expected nothing less from a dwarf.”
Blue frowned at the insult. He was a Dvergr. Calling him a dwarf was an insult, but such petty words bothered him little.
“I fear any real humor would be lost upon you should I attempt the effort.” Blue brought his free hand up to stroke his freshly shaved chin. “We come here because I willed it.”
“Really? I fail to see why you would bring us to some army encampment?” Obsidian glanced around with a bored expression. Dozens of solid-looking stone buildings with arched tiled roofs hemmed in the parade ground. These structures were arranged in neatly ordered rows, with wide paved streets running between them. In the distance, sentries slowly and deliberately walked the length of a crenulated outer defensive wall. “I have seen others of a similar nature on a hundred different worlds. This is nothing new.”
“This one is different.”
Obsidian glanced around, feigning curiosity. “I do not see it.”
Blue gazed at the nearest buildings—barracks, all of them. The soldiers stationed here were sleeping away the last remaining moments before their day began. He well knew their routine, for he had spent much time studying them.
“Welcome to Eboracum,” Blue said, holding out his free hand and staff in an elaborate show. “Home to the Roman Ninth Legion, Hispana. I welcome you, my friend, to a world you have never been … Earth.”
“What?” Obsidian looked over at Blue sharply, then closed his eyes. He waved his staff around in a slight circular motion. It flared with light before rapidly fading. The elf’s eyes opened. Where a moment ago they had been deadened by time unending, Obsidian’s eyes flashed with anger. “You fool! It is madness just to be here.”
Blue smiled wryly back, which seemed to irritate the elf further. The other wizard’s face colored, causing Blue to grin. Getting any type of emotional reaction from his friend pleased Blue immensely. Surprise was even better.
A horn sounded, shattering the early morning quiet. The two wizards turned to watch as the men, wearing only their gray service tunics and sandals, began to spill out of the nearby barracks. They rushed over to the parade ground where the two wizards stood and began falling into their respective formations. Officers followed their men out onto the parade ground. Junior officers carried wooden slates coated in wax for taking roll. The more senior officers who commanded each formation carried vine canes.
“Madness?” Blue asked with some amusement and deep satisfaction at having genuinely surprised his friend, which, he reflected, was not an easy task. He took another deep breath of the cool morning air and let it out slowly. “I think not.”
“You dare meddle with a cradle world?” Obsidian asked, aghast, turning back to face him. “If that does not constitute madness, I should like to hear what does!”
“These Romans reign supreme over a sizable portion of this world,” Blue said. “Long have I watched and studied them. Long have I admired their spirit and resolve.” He paused, gazing at the legion, which had formed up around them, so close he could almost smell the foul breath of the men. Though he had never sired any children, Blue suddenly felt like a proud parent. He turned back to Obsidian.
“These Romans have built an empire that is most impressive.”
“Why is that important to our needs?” Obsidian hissed with irritation. “Why risk it all? This place is forbidden to us.”
“These Romans have managed to develop a mindset for domination and power that can only be dreamed of on most other worlds,” Blue continued, turning away to watch the formations continue to assemble. “Their military operates much like a well-built and oiled machine might. It is highly disciplined and, when properly led, fairly unstoppable. This legion, the Ninth Hispana, is but a tiny part of that great machine … a small cog, if you will.”
“Again,” Obsidian lowered his tone, almost as if he feared they might be overheard, which was quite impossible given the spell Blue had spun, “I ask what relevance that information is to our cause, and the war?”
Blue ignored Obsidian and continued.
“These Romans over the last few centuries have managed to expand their reach greatly. They have subjugated entire peoples, dismantling some of the most powerful kingdoms and empires their world has ever known.”
Blue paused a moment and glanced around with pride at the assembling legion. “They have developed an aggressive spirit that is quite unmatched in thirst for both conquest and glory. Despite incredible reversals that would have humbled other nations and peoples, these,” he gestured at the legion, which had formed up around them, “took the punches and never gave in. Their spirit and resolve kept them going until their foes were either crushed or submitted to subjugation. Even those they do not rule bow economically to them, having become dependent upon the goods and services Roman civilization provides. They station their permanent armies—legions, they call them—upon the fringes of their territory. They do this
not to provoke war, but to display their might in full view of their neighbors, who in turn fret that the Romans will turn their way. They are bold, I tell you.”
Blue fell silent, preferring to gaze upon the legion. All his plans and efforts hinged upon these people. Obsidian considered Blue for a moment, before he too began studying the assembled formations of the legion. The two wizards watched as officers took roll and then began inspecting their men, a practice that rang with ritual.
“It is risky just coming here,” Obsidian said with a heavy sigh, seeming to let go of his anger. “The gods may notice.”
“Imagine if this empire had some direction,” Blue said with a wave of his staff. “Imagine what it could do, what it could become.”
“It is prohibited from interfering with this world’s development,” Obsidian said quietly. “The gods have mandated it. We should not even be here.”
“Istros,” Blue said wistfully.
“What of that backwater?” A scowl creased Obsidian’s youthful brow, which caused his crown to shift slightly. “It has only one serviceable World Gate, which, if I recall, is sealed. The other, thanks to misguided members of my race, is inaccessible. Istros is nothing but a dead-end world with little value to anyone.”
“The other alignments, including our enemies, think as you do.” Blue turned to face his friend. “I tire of endless reversals and defeats. Giving up world after world to our enemies is intolerable. Tell me you feel as I do.”
“We are doing all that we can.” Obsidian reached a hand up to his gold and crystal necklace, absently toying with it. Though it was incredibly fine, and clearly made by a master of unparalleled ability, Blue recognized it as just another storage device.
“Are we?” Blue asked, arching an eyebrow. “Are we really?”
Lost Legio IX: The Karus Saga Page 1