Lost Legio IX: The Karus Saga

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “There they are, sir.” The guide pointed and stepped aside.

  Shields resting upon the ground, a century was lined up behind Pammon. He had positioned himself at the corner of the side street that opened up onto another street, which was more of a back alleyway. The men stood silent, tense. Heads turned toward Karus and Delvaris as they rounded the corner. They opened a hole for him, and he passed through the century’s tightly packed ranks.

  “Where are they?” Karus asked of Pammon, gratefully slowing to a stop. He gulped down air and for a moment was forced to bend over. Hands on his knees, Karus struggled to catch his breath. Delvaris skidded to a halt at his side. The tribune was just as winded, if not more so.

  Pammon turned an amused look on Karus. “Getting too old for this kind of thing, are you?”

  “When I got word, I ran all the way from the palace,” Karus said. “Has to be,” he paused to suck in a breath, “close to two miles.”

  “In our youth,” Pammon said, clearly enjoying the moment and glancing at Delvaris, “we could have done that without breaking a sweat.”

  “Somehow … ” Delvaris said, wheezing and glancing between the two older officers. He rested a hand on the wall as he worked to catch his breath. “I don’t doubt that.”

  Pammon chuckled.

  “That was many years ago,” Karus said, managing to finally get his breathing under control. “But I still almost managed to run this young pup here into the ground.” Karus shot Delvaris a wink, then turned back to Pammon. “Now, where are they?”

  “Down this alleyway, five of them,” Pammon said, becoming serious. He gestured around the corner, but did not to expose himself. Karus refrained from taking a peek as Pammon called upward, “Jarad, how far off are they?”

  A face appeared from the roof above, perhaps three stories up, looking down at them. “Two hundred yards and coming fast, sir. They sure are moving with a purpose.”

  “Give me a countdown, starting at seventy yards,” Pammon called back up.

  “Yes, sir.” Jarad disappeared.

  “I’ve hidden another century a couple of streets down,” Pammon explained. “Between where I placed them and us here, there are no doors or windows around this corner, at least within easy reach.” Pammon paused and patted the building wall. “Large warehouses to either side. They are using this back alley that cuts between them and a lot of other buildings. When we move to block their path, so will the other century. With luck, we will have these bastards penned and boxed in neatly.”

  “How were they detected?”

  “A bright-eyed sentry spotted them moving covert and slow-like as they crept through the fields outside the city and up to the wall,” Pammon said.

  “Make sure you give that man an extra ration of drink,” Karus said.

  “I plan to. Luckily, the centurion on duty at that section of the wall had his wits about him. He called for help and settled in to watch. I was lucky enough to be touring the south gatehouse only a few blocks away and was able to juggle around a couple of the ready-response centuries to set this trap.”

  Pammon seemed very pleased with himself and bounced on his heels.

  “I wonder what they want,” Karus said.

  “Whatever it is,” Pammon said, “they are up to no good. I watched them throw up a spear-like contraption attached to a rope and scale the wall, which is quite a feat when you think about it.”

  “The city walls are pretty high,” Karus said. “That must have been some toss.”

  “You should know, it was also no accident that they scaled the wall where they did,” Pammon said. “It was timed so that our roving patrols on that section were at their farthest points.”

  “So, they’ve been watching our boys walk the wall,” Karus said. “We’re going to have to mix it up a bit, randomize our patrols.”

  “That was my thinking as well,” Pammon said.

  “Could they be here to scout us out?” Karus wiped sweat from his brow and out of his eyes. He tightened his helmet strap, as it had loosened a bit during the run down from the palace. “To gauge our numbers perhaps?”

  “I don’t think so,” Pammon said. “They are moving through the city like they know where they’re going. After shadowing them, their path became predictable and allowed me to set this sweet little trap.”

  “Where do you suppose they are headed?” Karus was troubled by this. It meant there was something in the city they had come for.

  “The palace district,” Pammon answered without hesitation. “They took their spear-thing and rope with them once they were up and over the wall. It could simply mean they didn’t want it found, but I believe they mean to scale the palace wall too.”

  “Sir,” Jared called down quietly. “Seventy yards.”

  “Here we go, boys,” Pammon said, turning to the men. “Shields up, draw swords. Time to surprise these sneaky bastards.”

  The shields came off the ground, and swords were pulled out.

  “Fifty,” Jared called down. Someone else above was giving him the distance. Karus could just hear it being relayed.

  “Gareth,” Pammon hissed, turning to a man standing close by. “Be ready with that horn. As soon as we go around the corner, you blow. Without you, the other century won’t move. Understand me?”

  “Yes, sir,” Gareth said.

  “Forty yards.”

  “Nothing like a little excitement to start your day off, eh?” Pammon said to Karus, flashing the other a confident grin. Amongst an officer core known for aggressiveness and leading from the front, Pammon stood apart from his peers. He was one of those rare officers who lived for moments like this. Pammon wasn’t reckless. He just craved action and he was stunningly good at his job of being a combat leader.

  “Let’s make sure we take prisoners,” Karus said. “I want to know what they are up to.”

  “That’s the general idea, sir.” Pammon flashed Karus a wink. “We’re gonna surprise the piss out of these sneaky buggers.”

  “Thirty.”

  Pammon turned to look at his men. “On my order, we move at the double around this corner and form a wall of shields from one side of the street to the next.” Pammon spoke in a tone just loud enough for all to hear. “Screw it up, let one escape, and I promise all of you will have latrine duty for life.”

  “Twenty yards, sir!”

  “Now,” Pammon shouted.

  The men burst forward, rushing by both officers and out into the street, where they turned the corner. Karus and Pammon followed as Gareth blew his horn in one long loud blast that rang off the walls. In such close proximity, the horn was almost deafening.

  The men were around the corner in a flash, forming a line, dressing themselves as if they had executed this exact maneuver every day. A handful of heartbeats later, the first rank was set and shields thunked together to form an impenetrable wall from foot to shoulder height. In the early morning and empty city, it was an ominous sound.

  Karus laid his eyes upon those who would intrude upon his city. The five men, wearing black leather armor and brown pants, came to a surprised halt just shy of ten yards from Pammon’s line. One carried a javelin-like spear with a hook on one end. The modified javelin was attached to a rope that was coiled over the man’s shoulder. He held the hooked javelin out like he meant to use it as a weapon. The other four immediately drew long, wicked-looking swords that had a slight curve and were meant for slashing rather than jabbing. The intruders did not carry shields. One turned to run back the way they had come, only to have that avenue blocked as the other century emerged and formed a solid shield wall to their rear.

  Pammon had chosen the ambush site well. The large warehouses to either side presented sheer walls from which there was no ready escape. Nor were any windows within easy reach, the first set being at least fourteen feet up.

  The five intruders eyed the legionaries, clearly unsure what to do.

  “Stay here,” Karus told Delvaris, then pushed his way through the
line. Pammon followed. He took several steps down the street and stopped. Placing his hands on his hips, he studied the five, who looked desperately about for an avenue of escape. There was none. One of the intruders said something in a low tone to the others and they stilled, their eyes falling upon Karus.

  “Dressed just like those dead we saw in the forest,” Karus said.

  “I see that,” Pammon said. “They must be part of some type of light infantry, scouts or a special tasks group.”

  Karus agreed with that assessment. These men were professional soldiers or something close to it in this strange land. Karus was sure of it. Why were they in his city?

  “Drop your weapons,” Karus said in his best parade-ground voice. He knew it was unlikely that they comprehended Latin, but he figured they would understand his meaning. “Surrender.”

  “You know, I don’t believe they understand you,” Pammon said when the five did not comply.

  Karus switched to what he knew of the language Amarra called the Common Tongue. She had taught him a little over the last few days.

  “Drop. You drop.”

  He pointed at them and then gestured to make his point, as if he had a sword in hand and was dropping it into the street.

  One of the five snarled something back, which was lost on Karus. He suspected he had just been cursed at.

  “Whatever you told them,” Pammon said, “failed to have the desired effect.”

  “Tell me about it,” Karus said with a heavy breath. “Nothing is ever easy. I guess we do this the hard way. Order your men to move in. We will disarm them by force.”

  “On my call, we will advance,” Pammon said, half turning to his men. “I want them ali—”

  At that moment, three of the five rushed at Karus and Pammon. Surprised by the move, Karus instinctively reacted and pulled out his sword. He dropped into a one-on-one combat stance, sensing Pammon doing the same, just before the first sword came slashing down for Karus. Then there was no longer time to think.

  CLANG!

  Blocking the strike set his hand tingling. To his side, Pammon faced off against two of the attackers. He blocked a sword strike from one and slammed an armored shoulder into the chest of the other, knocking him roughly back.

  Karus tightened his grip on the pommel and jabbed out for the arm of his opponent, who dodged and swung lightning fast. Karus barely got his sword back up in time to keep from losing his head.

  CLANG!

  Small sparks flew from where the two blades met.

  Karus shoved back with his sword and was about to jab again when he was roughly knocked aside as the century exploded forward, roaring as they came in.

  “I want prisoners!” Karus shouted, attempting to get their attention as the men bashed with their shields and stabbed their way forward. Karus understood that, having witnessed the attack on their officers, the men were in a murderous mood. He knew it was too late, but he tried anyway. “TAKE PRISONERS!”

  “Hold!” Pammon shouted. “Damn you, hold! I said hold!”

  It was over in a flash. The three had been brutally and efficiently cut down. The other two down the street had retreated a few yards, but were unharmed. With Pammon screaming invectives, the legionaries seemed to abruptly come to their senses.

  “Form a bloody line,” Pammon angrily roared at the men. In an almost sheepish manner, they did so, though some clearly wanted to finish things and looked hungrily down the street.

  Karus looked past the reformed line. The remaining intruders were still trapped between the two centuries, including the one with the hooked javelin. The century behind them was now slowly advancing up the street, steadily closing the distance.

  “I want these two taken prisoner,” Karus said, loud enough for all to hear. “We need intelligence, and they have it.”

  At that moment, the one carrying the sword swung around and slashed the other’s throat, almost decapitating his companion. The javelin-like weapon fell from nerveless fingers as a fountain of crimson shot into the air. The stricken man toppled over backwards onto the stone paving, where he lay twitching as his lifeblood flowed out in a rush and ran into the gutter like rainwater.

  The sole survivor dropped his sword and turned his eyes on Karus. He then calmly pulled out his dagger and, to everyone’s utter astonishment, cut his own throat, gritting his teeth while he did it.

  He stood there, balefully eying Karus as his blood poured out and down his chest. Several heartbeats later, the bloodied knife fell to the street with a clatter. The life dimmed and then altogether left his eyes. He fell forward, landing hard on paving stones already stained brightly red.

  If a single denarius had dropped, Karus knew he would have heard it at twenty paces.

  “That was some wild shit,” Pammon breathed, breaking the prolonged silence. “I’ve not ever seen anything like that.”

  With a heavy breath, Karus stepped through the line of silent legionaries and over to one of the dead men. He looked down.

  “Why would they do that?” Delvaris had come up next to Karus. The tribune’s eyes were almost impossibly wide.

  Karus was silent as he considered the dead man.

  “Why?” Delvaris asked again.

  “If I had to make a guess,” Karus said quietly, “religion drove this, a fanatical belief in what they were doing was right.”

  “Like the druids,” Pammon said, and spat on the corpse.

  Karus sheathed his sword. He had so many questions, it was maddening.

  “Who are you,” Karus said under his breath, “and what were you after?”

  “I think I will double the watch on the walls,” Pammon said, turning to Karus. “We need to do more than just vary and randomize our patrols.”

  “The city needs to be swept again,” Karus said. “If these got over, more may have as well. We may have just gotten lucky here.”

  “What about the inner walls?” Delvaris said. “If this bunch was headed there, we should secure those as well.”

  “I don’t think we can completely cover all of the walls. We simply don’t have the manpower,” Pammon said. “But we can take steps that will make another attempt at scaling the city walls more difficult.”

  “Let’s do it,” Karus said. “As soon as we get back to headquarters, I will cut the orders.”

  Karus looked down at the dead man at his feet.

  “Pammon,” Karus said, “search them and see if you can learn anything.”

  “I will,” Pammon said and snapped out orders for it to be done.

  “The city may no longer be safe,” Delvaris said.

  “Whoever suggested it was?” Karus gave Delvaris a meaningful look, then turned to go, thoroughly disgusted with how things had just turned out.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “This my home,” Amarra said in broken Latin as they strolled through the palace gardens. She held her arms out, gesturing around them. “My home.”

  The air was a comfortable summer day. It was neither too hot, nor too cold. Bees and other insects buzzed busily around the neglected beds, which were becoming thick with weeds, crowding the decorative plants. Some had flowered.

  Karus had never been one for gardening, nor, for that matter, enjoying gardens. Yet here he was, taking a pleasant turn through the palace grounds with a beautiful woman by his side. He glanced over at her. She flashed a happy smile back at him.

  “My home is Rome,” he replied in Common.

  Amarra frowned at him and Karus knew he had not said it correctly.

  “My home is Rome,” he said changing to Latin. “I am a Roman.”

  “Ah,” she said with a slight nod, switching back to Common, speaking slowly and carefully so he could better follow. “My home is Rome.”

  Karus repeated it in Common. The smile returned and for a moment he thought it more radiant than the suns high above their heads. Amarra turned away and picked a delicate white flower, brought it up to her nose, then sighed in pleasure.

  Karus fell
back a step as she continued walking. Why was he so fascinated with her?

  Amarra was picking up Latin quicker than he was her Common Tongue. It had been slightly over two weeks since their language instruction had begun and ten days since the intruders into the city had been ambushed. Karus had kept at it day after day, whenever duty permitted, spending several hours with her each day. Though they were getting much better at communicating, he still had no idea why she had been confined and left to rot. It troubled him that he did not yet know the answer to that question. However, the more time he spent in her company, the more he doubted she was a threat to anyone.

  Karus glanced around at Amarra’s guard, positioned about the gardens, not too close nor too far. All eyes were upon their charge. There was no shirking, and it had nothing to do with orders. Karus knew the men were wary of her, perhaps even afraid.

  Dio had even told him that there were wild rumors beginning to spread about Amarra. She was the prisoner so dangerous she had been left behind to die chained up like a dog in the deepest, darkest part of the dungeon. Another had her a murderess, having killed her own babies without showing remorse. She had also been branded an evil witch and was using her magic on him, bending Karus to her will.

  His eyes roved over the guards. They clearly did not trust her. Karus knew he should feel the same, but for some reason he could not. If anything, the more time he spent with her, the more impressed he became with her inner strength. Anyone else who had been imprisoned the way she had been would have taken weeks, if not months, to recover from that horrendous ordeal, perhaps even years. For Amarra, it seemed she had recovered in just days. She was strong, resilient, and he admired her for it.

  Karus understood this had something partly to do with her faith. She seemed exceptionally religious and prayed regularly to a god that, as near as he could tell, roughly translated into the Father, or High Father. He was not quite sure, as their communication was still fairly basic. Karus did not understand exactly what her god stood for, only that he was incredibly important to Amarra.

  As he watched her continue to walk ahead, Karus found himself wondering about the gods. Barbarians he had encountered over his long years of service had worshiped gods other than those honored by Rome. The Celts were a perfect example. They had their own set of gods, like Cailleach, the Caledonian goddess otherwise known as the Veiled One. Like many such gods, they were incredibly evil and not fit for a civilized nation. Was Amarra’s god one of those evil deities? Or was her god a different shade of one of Rome’s own and honored deities? It was an interesting thought.