by Ahimsa Kerp
The alchemist didn’t say anything, only glared at her with a look of impotent sadness, of betrayal and suffering. He sank to the floor without making another sound. Blood spilled from his guts.
She grabbed his bag. Inside were three vials, a trio of opaque bottles indistinguishable from one another. Not wanting to take any chances, she quickly searched his body and the room. There was nothing else.
She cleaned the blade on his cloak and walked from the room into the now empty common room. Patrons and owners alike had fled before the advent of the lifeless. She realized that these people hadn’t seen the undead monsters before, maybe had not even heard of them yet. She was only beginning to comprehend their ravenous menace, and how much worse for those who were only now learning of their existence?
She held her spear firmly and the wooden shaft felt good in her hand. Wooden shaft. She giggled a little at the second meaning of that, and then abruptly stopped. Was she going mad? Was there even any point in such a thing as going mad when the world had already beaten you to it?
Rowanna stepped into the drizzling rain. There were lifeless everywhere. They were not in large crowds, not yet, but they were all around her. Most were coming from the harbor, and looked like they had been sailors or soldiers. She slipped into the side streets and avoided most, running around the few that did see her. It felt wonderful to have her ankle healed.
Only once did one get close enough that she had to stab it. The creature surprised her and her spear was of no use. She used the still bloody dagger and jabbed it into the pale white eye. Her blade did not sink deep enough, however, and it grabbed her head with grey hands. She twisted the blade and drove it deeper, until blood and ocular juices spurted across her. The monster dropped down, dead for the final time.
The city smelled of blood and smoke. She walked aimlessly, looking for Iullianus and seeing how much of the city was still human. It seemed most people were locked in their houses, but she warned a few off the streets. There was no sign of the big Roman, however. She returned to the harbor, but the ships were empty. The monsters were spreading out, looking for food.
Some time had passed and a wintery sun had burnt off the morning clouds. The city was eerily silent, save for the occasional screaming. It was growing apparent that the city was too vast to explore. She headed for the city walls and climbed up. There appeared to be no lifeless here—no people either, for that matter. The view from the walls was stupefying. Wind blowing her hair back, she realized that the army outside had drawn much closer. The centurions had formed up into what looked like battle ranks. They knew, then, what awaited them in the city. That much was a relief.
She walked along the walls, circumnavigating the city. Every hundred paces the walkway crawled down, halfway to the street. There were guard towers there, and below them small gates to the outer city. There were no guards there today, however. It was on the fourth such platform that she found him.
His hair and size gave him away. Iullianus saw her the same moment she had seen him. He stared at her with blank white eyes. She felt a flood of emotions so strong that she couldn’t identify any of them, but she had to put her hand on the wall to steady herself.
Slowly, deliberately, the thing that had been Iullianus slipped his hand down to his waist. Seconds later, it emerged with his cock. He tugged at it slowly, still staring at her with his pale dead eyes.
His hand moved in a well-practiced motion. Jerk … jerk… jerk. She could not see if he was growing hard or not. Did blood flow in the undead?
This had to stop.
She ran down the stairs, hand grabbing a vial in the dead man’s bag. The red-haired monster continued to jerk its member at her. With a scream, she flung the first vial at it. It burst on its face, leaking green liquid. Rowanna moved closer, hand grasping the next vial. She slammed her shoulder into its gut, driving the big thing to the ground. She had the awful feeling that it was still masturbating. Its arm moved and all that she could hear was jerk … jerk… jerk
She punched it in the stomach. The creature struggled against her as an angry, disturbed moan split its mouth. That was all the chance she needed. Her knees pressed on its chest, and she emptied both containers into its mouth.
The sound of moaning alerted to her to more lifeless coming. She glanced up, and back, and there were two coming, but they were not close. Not yet.
The elixirs mixed into a brown color and were rapidly running down his throat. She leaped to her feet and spun around. The lifeless were closer, stumbling in their haste to reach her. One had, until recently, been a corpulent man and the other was a topless whore—also recently dead. Iullianus groaned as his skin began to stretch.
“You poor bastards,” the woman muttered. She wanted the safety of the stairs, but couldn’t leave a just-changed Iullianus here alone. She remembered all too well what had happened to the man below her tree, seemingly so long ago.
She knew what Iullianus would do, and wondered if using his actions to guide her own would ever end with a good result. She stepped away from him, toward the lifeless. Like Iullianus, their flesh hardly looked dead.
She went after the woman first, fearing that she might be quicker. Her spear ripped through the woman's face and the topless creature fell to the ground. Rowanna smiled and turned, but the fat lifeless was much closer than she had realized.
It reached out with massive fists and claimed her right hand in a clammy grip. It was so strong that her spear fell from her fingers, clattering onto the ground. Its other massive hand reached for her head and she only just pulled back away from it. Snarling and pulling her closer, the lifeless grabbed at her waist with its free hand.
She was pressed up against it, her nose befouled with the stench of death and blood. Its mouth opened and chunks of unchewed flesh were stuck in its teeth. It pulled her closer and chomped at her neck.
Another fist hit Rowanna in the cheek. Her head flew back. Her ears were ringing, but she had avoided its plague bite. Three mighty punches landed on the fat man’s face. Rowanna was dropped to the ground, rolling.
Iullianus was there. He slammed his fists into the thing’s head, again and again. With crushing force, he knocked the fat man to the ground. Rowanna found her spear and stood again.
Then he, Iullianus, promptly squatted to the ground too.
The look on his face was indescribable. Panic and alarm, underscored by surprise, was only the roughest approximation.
“What are you doing?” Rowanna cried, scrambling for her blade. The fat zombie was already stumbling back to its feet.
“By Mithras do I have to shit!” Iullianus said, loudly squirting out soggy chunks of undigested meat.
The big lifeless stood. It lurched toward the prone man, but Rowanna was quicker. Her spear launched forward and this time the fat man did not get a chance to grab her. The creature fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
Just a few moments later, Iullianus finished.
“I don’t know where I am,” he said, looking around. “The last thing I remember is fighting on the ships. Did I do anything strange?”
The Dacian woman stared at him, at an utter loss.
He smiled reassuringly. “My grandfather had a touch of the battle madness. I must get it from him. The world goes black and red—and when you wake up all your enemies are dead.”
“Battle madness,” Rowanna repeated slowly.
“Aye, I think I had it back in the camp where I met you and Zuste. It’s a bother—being heroic and not even remembering it. He never told us it gave him the shits, though.”
She almost told him the truth then, but he seemed so happy. There were enough burdens in the world without her adding another one to someone she cared about. Instead, she ran to him and wrapped her arms around him.
“A man could get used to this,” he said. “Where’s Natopurus.”
“Dead,” she said shortly.
Iullianus stared at her, breaking the embrace with a step back. “He’s the only chance we h
ad at ending this menace.”
She hadn’t really thought about that. “I took his potions,” she said weakly.
“That’s something. Where are they?”
She hesitated. What could she tell him?
“Well, where are they?” he asked again.
She looked around helplessly. “Gone. I broke them in the fight with the lifeless.”
“Foci il leat!” he cried, not in Latin. “Humanity is doomed.”
Now, for the first time today, she could feel tears welling in her eyes. Everything was going wrong.
Before she could reply, the gate slid open. A cohort of soldiers burst in. The leader, a tall blond man, looked at them. “Eyes. Show me your eyes,” he commanded. The two hastily complied. “They're human.” He motioned toward the dead lifeless. “You two do this yourselves?” he asked, his voice more impressed.
“She did most of it,” Iullianus said, “I was too busy taking a shite.”
The fair-haired man’s laugh boomed through the empty city. He motioned for them to come closer. “Listen, this is a dead city. No one will survive. If the shamblers don’t get them, we will. In return for your help, I’ll help you. Slip out these doors, and tell them Adalbern sent you. You’ll be on your own, but it’s a good deal better than the alternative.”
Iullianus saluted him sloppily. “Gratias, soldier.” He took Rowanna’s hand and pulled her through the door. They did not stop for a long time, not until the afternoon sun had disappeared and the chill of evening was all around them.
When they finally looked back at the doomed city, pillars of smoke were hovering over a hazy orange glow. Brundisium was a city of fire and death.
CHAPTER XXIV
Italy: 88 CE, Winter
They departed Rome late in the night, cloaked by a mantle of darkness as they crept out of the Eternal City. Three hundred deadly men—gladiators, soldiers, Praetorians, and mercenary warriors—carefully snaked along the Via Appia Antica. It was the first time Felix had left the city since he arrived, a lifetime ago. He was excited, if apprehensive of the danger that lay ahead of them.
The men escorted fourteen wagons. Seven were full of food for men and horses, and three of them contained extra weapons and armor. Of the three largest, however, each had six chariots stacked carefully inside. It was not a large number, but well-trained aurigae and their chariots were expensive, and more to the point, rarely for sale. Even a man of Rufus’ position had been hard-pressed to obtain the eighteen charioteers that accompanied them.
These thirteen wagons were linked to each other as they slowly rumbled down the cobblestone roads. There was a ring of men surrounding them, preventing any curious drunkards from coming too close. A force of one hundred men went before them, clearing the Via Appia Antica of all traffic until they had passed. In truth, their presence was unnecessary—few living walked these roads, save for themselves.
Another hundred men marched behind the wagons, and with them came Senator Gaius Rufus. He rode a black horse and was in constant communication with the men in the front. The sixteen aurigae, including Felix, rode with him as well.
Behind them all, far behind, rumbled the fourteenth wagon. It was led by two of the surest-footed horses in the Senator’s stables. Only one man rode with it, and Felix wondered how his big friend was holding up.
He’d seen Hyacinthus personally packing the wagons. Felix did not know what had gone in them, not exactly, but whatever it was had been packed with enough straw to feed a hundred horses. He had offered to ride with the Greek, but both Hyacinthus and the Senator had been adamant. Whatever was in the big man’s wagons was utterly secret.
Some time later, when they could no longer see the city behind them and the morning sun had burnt away the last of the dew, an idea struck him. Did Hyacinthus have some of the lifeless in his wagon? Perhaps he was experimenting on them. Felix looked to Rufus as his suspicion deepened, but the Senator was sleeping in his saddle.
Felix looked back at the trailing wagon. He could just see it, looming at the edge of the horizon. Hyacinthus, or his outline, was scarcely visible. Felix turned back, and looked at the road ahead. Something bothered him, vaguely.
They were outside the city now, and the lack of people was surreal. The Emperor had cleared the roads and there was little of the usual traffic that would typically clog the streets this close to Rome. All of the land had been cultivated and they had ridden past grapes and olives for hours.
Nothing was obviously amiss, but the feeling of wrongness was too deeply entrenched to ignore. He looked back again. The last wagon was not moving. Hyacinthus was waving wildly.
Dark shapes had emerged from the tangled fields of vines.
Without thought, Felix turned his horse and rode as quickly as he could back toward the last wagon. He was dimly aware of shouting behind him, others following, but he focused only the scene before him. His thighs clenched around the animal’s broad flanks as he drew his falx.
There were only three shambling lifeless. He could not see Hyacinthus. One of the horses neighed as the creatures drew closer.
Felix felt the cold handle of his knife in his hand as he drew closer. He held on as tightly as he could, wishing he could ride better. Though he knew horses well, they were typically pulling rather than bearing him. Felix looked ahead.
The big man emerged from his wagon. He held a container in his hand, cradled like a baby. Hyacinthus was, if not running, shuffling quickly toward the lifeless. As one, they turned and moved toward him. He turned and moved away, off the road, and away from the wagon.
He seemed to notice Felix, and a look of alarm crossed his face. He shouted something, but Felix could not hear him. Not over the beating of the horses' hooves, the beating of his own heart.
Hyacinthus lumbered into a thicket that grew between a farm and the road. He was still shouting, but Felix was not close enough to hear. The charioteer slowed his horse, watching in horror as the three creatures closed in on his friend.
Hyacinthus screamed and the tail end of his statement reached Felix’s ears. “—come any closer!”
Felix pursed his lips in puzzlement. The big man took several steps back away from the ravenous creatures and flung the item in his hands at the ground before them.
A crack of thunder roared. His horse reared and he fell to the ground. Long habit caused him to twist and lean forward to minimize the damage from the fall. He wasn’t quick enough, though, and he hit the cobblestones hard enough to scrape flesh from his knees and elbows.
There was no sound at all, for a few long moments. Felix rolled over so that he faced the sky and gasped for air. He still could hear nothing, save for the fevered beating of his heart.
A massive plume of smoke drifted pleasantly into his vision. He rose slowly, painfully, and with some effort, managed to stand. His ribs ached and he still felt as though he could scarcely breathe. Some hearing was returning to him, coming back from a far-off land. His eyes found Hyacinthus and his own condition became suddenly less important.
The smoke that rose into the air came from the spot where the lifeless had been. A fire raged there and the heat was intensely foreboding. Hyacinthus stood several paces back; his face was sooty with ashes and dirt.
“What happened?” Felix asked. “Where are the lifeless?”
The fat man pointed wordlessly to the fire. Felix could see nothing recognizable as
human, or even formerly human. All that he could see was charred and blackened beyond identification.
“How?” he asked.
“I cannot tell you,” Hyacinthus said. “It is my secret. The reason that the Senator bought me. Ultimately, the reason he bought you too, I suppose."
Felix looked offended. "You can tell me now, I think. That ship has sailed."
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, I do, as much as anyone in the world,” he said, “but this is a danger that could ruin the world.”
“Ha. That seems a moot point, now,” Felix said.
"Tell him," said a voice. The Senator had arrived, and he joined them with his hand on his sword hilt. His hard expression did not change as he examined the burning slag of bodies. "It's better if he knows, and for me to know as well. Should anything happen to you, it would be best for the knowledge to survive."
Several dozen men had arrived with the Senator, but they had stopped at the edge of the road. Rufus waived to them and they turned and marched back down the road.
Hyacinthus looked at the Senator for a long moment, as if he was about to challenge him. "Very well," he said at last. "Though I warn you: without long years of study, recreating it will be impossible." Sweat was sliding down the man’s round face.
"I understand. You are proud of your creation, and rightfully so,” Rufus said. He moved away from the fire, and the other two followed him. They walked back to the last wagon. The horses were panicked and Felix went to reassure them. “Now, tell me," the Senator said. “Tell me everything.”
Hyacinthus walked toward the Senator. He held the bottom of his toga in his hand and twirled it nervously. "As you know, this wagon is filled with containers. They are quite fragile."
"Yes. I am quite aware of their nature," Rufus said.
"There are three separated chambers in each pot. The bottom contains water. Plain, harmless water. You could drink it, were you able to reach it. The middle layer is a mixture of my own: mostly quicklime and thion. It smells like Hades, but nothing else works nearly so well.”
He was silent for too long.
“And the third layer?” Rufus asked.
“Naptha," the fat man said. Felix had never heard of it.
"I thought as much. What else could you have needed so much denari for?” Rufus said.
Hyacinthus nodded. “I understand it is a difficult process to collect it from the sea. Unfortunately, it’s the only thing that works.”