Empire Of The Undead

by Ahimsa Kerp

  Iullianus took a halting step toward the spokesman. “I know, and I commend you for your strategy. However, we have come rushing from the wilds of Dacia with news about a cure.”

  This had a visible effect on the man. He muttered something in Greek and moments later, the fattest man she had ever seen appeared. He could eat Zuste twice and not notice. The two conferred in low, hushed voices, and then the first man left, disappearing into the ranks.

  “Felix has told me you speak of a cure.” the fat man said skeptically.

  “It’s true. I have seen it,” Iullianus said. “So too has this woman, Rowanna of the Dacians. Our companion was an alchemist, and he could reverse the curse.”

  “This is not something easily believed,” the fat man said. "I know of what I speak, and I have studied the works of Hippocrates of Thessaly. Long days have I spent toiling in search of a cure, but my vain efforts are fruitless and unworthy." The ring of men tightened up around the two. Rowanna felt the shaft of her spear growing sweaty in her grip and she considered striking now, before it was too late. The fat man looked directly at her. “Where is this alchemist? Where is this cure?”

  “That is something I can discuss with you later,” Iullianus said. “For now, there are more lifeless around here than I’ve seen in months, and they are coming this way. You can decide to kill us after, but for now, you need all the help you can get.”

  “That seems reasonable,” the fat man said. “I— ”

  “What’s this?” The original spokesman had returned, but he had not come alone. The man with him was a Roman Senator, and he looked every bit as haughty and regal as he should. Rowanna hated him upon sight. She gripped her spear even tighter as she noted his lack of armor. When the fighting started, she knew where her spear would be aimed.

  The fat man quickly explained to the Senator what had been discussed. As he did, the Senator regarded the pair before him with intense scrutiny. His face did not change, but Rowanna became aware of how grimy they must appear. Weeks of camping in the rain had left them entirely disheveled and dirty.

  “You claim to have the cure with you?” he remarked when the fat man had caught him up.

  “As good as,” Iullianus said.

  "You speak Latin well, though I can hear a hint a barbarism in your accent,” the Senator said. “But we both know that 'as good as' means no.”

  “That is true,” Iullianus was forced to admit. The Senator turned to the fat man.

  “They don’t have it because it doesn’t exist. Really, Hyacinthus, you should know better.” Then the Senator said, “Kill them.”

  “Wait,” called Iullianus. The legionaries drew their blades.

  Rowanna did not hesitate. She sprang forward and jabbed her spear point into the nearest man’s face, just below his helmet. Blood spurted from the wound as she savagely jerked her spear back. Iullianus stepped forward and punched a tall Celt in the face. The force of the blow wrenched his head back. The big red-haired man drew the other’s gladius as he fell to the ground.

  “Heed my words, for this fight is not wished by me,” Iullianus called to the Senator. “There is an army of lifeless coming the likes of which you cannot imagine. We don’t have to spill each other’s blood.”

  Rowanna glanced down at the man she’d stabbed. Blood leaked from his face into the wet ground. He laid still and unmoving. It’s too late for words, she thought.

  “We cannot take any chances,” the Senator said. His tone was heavy with finality. As he turned away, Rowanna whipped herself around and jabbed at a man who was easing toward her. She caught him in the arm, and one of the few places with no armor. He screamed his pain, and his weapon fell to the ground.

  “Donar’s cock,” swore one of the Praetorians, “this woman is lethal.”

  Trumpets sounded again from the makeshift towers. Rowanna could not see beyond the ring of men around her, but everyone was looking toward the road.

  The Senator had stopped mere steps from his tent. “What is it now?”

  The young man at his side was scanning the road. “It’s more lifeless,” he said. He sounded confused. "But they seem to follow a leader."

  “Kill these two and go kill them, Felix,” the Senator snapped. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

  "Yes, Senator," Felix said. He sighed and drew his weapon. The other Romans were mumbling. “I don’t like this,” muttered one of the soldiers closest to Rowanna.

  The Senator looked at the road behind them, his mouth opened in shock. He closed it quickly, but even from where she stood, his face visibly paled. She swung her head around and saw a muddy battalion of lifeless advancing upon them. At their head was a large black corpse. It had a whole in its chest and was missing its lower jaw, but it moved with more speed and grace than any lifeless she had seen before.

  He paused, face stricken. Several heartbeats passed. Everyone seemed frozen, save for the advancing lifeless.

  “I have changed my mind,” he said in a soft voice. “Adriax, summon your guard to me. Felix, lead the men—two formations, you understand. And Hyacinthus, prepare for the worst.”

  His gaze fell upon Rowanna and Iullianus. “You two, you may join our fight, should you wish.”

  “Senator,” said the injured Praetorian, “she killed Marcus, and the bone is sticking out of my arm.”

  “You shouldn’t have let her stab you,” the Senator snapped. “And Marcus was a daydreaming fool.”

  The injured Praetorian dropped his shield and reached for his blade with his good hand.

  “Bugger all that,” he said. “He owed me money.” His sword was in his hand and he stepped toward the Dacian woman.

  Rowanna readied her spear, wishing she was fighting a lifeless. How could she strike against so much armor? Before either of them had moved another step, Iullianus was behind the man. The red-haired man grabbed the other man’s helmet and exposed the Praetorian’s throat, resting the edge of his sword against the bulge in the man’s throat. He leaned in so close that his mouth nearly touched the man’s ear.

  “This is the part where I should threaten you. Tell you that if you bother her again, you will die. You’d understand, begrudgingly, but you’d do it. In time, we’d grow to be friends.”

  With a flash, he thrust his sword into the man’s throat. The sharp smell of blood filled Rowanna's nostrils, and she watched dispassionately as the dying man slumped to the ground. She wondered if she should feel something—she reached for sadness, for regret, but she found only emptiness.

  As a man, the other Romans drew their blades. Rowanna exhaled, and then breathed in deeply.

  "Hold," the Senator commanded. He strode toward them all, glowing with authority.

  Rowanna turned to the Senator. His eyes had gone cold, but he said, “Gratias, Legatus, for removing that insolent man. No one will avenge him—he has paid the price for his insubordination. Now kill these creatures or it will matter not what we think of each other.”

  Iullianus slid over to the young man. Rowanna followed him. “Listen,” he said, “there’s no fighting these things. It might be better to regroup, let them come to us. I could build walls, funnel them toward us.”

  “You don’t understand,” Felix said. “This is what we’ve been waiting for. Instead of killing them in scattered bunches, we finally have them gathered together. It will make it so much easier for us.” He looked at the ground wistfully. "If only it were dry," he said.

  “How many have you fought, at one time?” Iullianus asked.

  “Some. Two or three dozen, at least. Why?”

  “There are thousands of them out there. Last time I saw this many, they destroyed my legion.”

  “That legion didn’t know what we know. Besides, Senator Rufus is the commander. I only lead the war efforts."

  “What wars have you fought in?”

  The lad was silent for a few moments. “The Hippodrome is like a war—life and death are on the line.”

  Rowanna resisted the urge to
grab and shake the lad. Iullianus must have felt the same way, for he said, “So too are such things at risk in childbirth, but I wouldn’t want my mother leading an army.”

  Helpless frustration warred with anger as the boy considered those words. That look. Rowanna felt an icy fist clench around her heart and her legs shook. Though he was too short and too dark of hair, the lad had for an instant worn one of Dapyx’s expressions.

  Iullianus was addressing the soldiers. He sounded, she realized, exactly like a Roman general. Which was no surprise—that is what he was. It was strange though, to have the man she had traveled with and gotten to know so well show another side of himself, a side that she had forgotten existed.

  “There is a canyon not far behind us,” he was saying. “Drive them back to there or we can hold them off in shifts." He stopped, and the cadence of his voice changed. "We must push them back, or else they will swallow us in a sea of menace." He pulled the shovel from his back to go with the bloody blade in his hand. "Aim for their heads!" he cried. "Malum delenda est!"

  Rowanna knew enough Latin to translate: "Evil must be destroyed." She did not know if she was welcome, but she charged forward with the others, a dead man's blood still warm on the point of her spear.

  CHAPTER XXIX

  Italy: 89 CE, Early Spring

  The arrival of the two in camp had been strange, to say the least, but both had quickly proven their worth. The big Celt, for surely he was one, despite his accent, fought fearlessly. He leaped into battle like an avatar of Mars, but the woman, that plain, brooding, middle-aged woman, she was something else. Felix had occasionally raced against highly-skilled female charioteers, but never had he seen a woman move with such deadly purpose. He was relieved not to have to face either of them.

  The line of Romans had hit the lifeless horde with fierce, irresistible power. Hundreds of the white-eyed monsters had fallen, but ever were there more. Too many to count, too many shambling inevitably toward the outnumbered living. Even with the deadly efficiency of their two allies, the legion of death had faltered. They might still have won, Felix thought, but then the worst thing of all happened.

  The leader, the thing that had shaken the Senator, emerged. It seemed impossible, for the lifeless had no minds, but it roared and they were heartened in their dark dreary way. The heartless one at the front stood there, its large body seeming to inspire the undead behind it. Looking like Hannibal himself, it roared a challenge at the Roman forces. Four Praetorians charged, and it ripped them apart with shocking brute strength. Even without a lower jawbone, it took huge bites from their dismembered bodies.

  Five more Romans, two of them charioteers advanced upon him. They locked their shields and held blades ready. The huge lifeless heaved a torso at them. It battered their shields, halting their advance. Moving not quickly, but more so than the other lifeless, the leader of the lifeless lumbered into them. Its hands closed around one of the charioteers heads and it ripped it off with a wrenching snap.

  The others cut at their monstrous foe. Though their blades sliced its flesh, it did not even notice. With cruel power, it bit, chewed, and tore them into shreds. It took only moments. Felix swallowed. He was the closest living thing, and he would confront it, and he would die.

  A flash of red and suddenly the man named Iullianus was there. His blade was almost faster than the eye could follow, and he knew not to stab anywhere but the head. Still, he was outsized and out-strengthened, and his attack quickly turned to a desperate defense. It snarled, mouth full of broken, pointy teeth. The Hannibal monster grabbed Iullianus by the throat, lifted him into the air. His blade dropped to the ground as he grabbed at the hand choking his life away. Even from where he stood, Felix could see the red-haired man’s face turn red as he shook and struggled against the creature’s awesome strength.

  The big man swung his hand behind his head, drawing a blade from behind his back. Felix blinked. It was not a blade at all—it was a shovel! What madness was this? Swinging with all the power he could summon, Iullianus drove the edge of his metal shovel into the neck of his powerful foe. It was a strike with divine power.

  The lifeless leader’s head was sundered from its body and it went rolling to the ground. Its face was a mask of pure hate as it fell. Iullianus fell, dark hands still clasping at his throat. He stood, turned to the Roman forces, and bowed.

  Felix joined the ragged cheer when at last the black lifeless had been sent back to the grave, but it had been short-lived. There were still far too many enemies clawing, gnashing, and rending, for any to have had hearts lifted.

  Step by bloody step, the Romans had pushed the lifeless back. They were too few, however, far too few. They fought in single file, stretched across the road and into the fields. Else, the monsters would flank them and all would fall, but their battle lines were so thin, and one man falling meant danger to those on either side of him.

  Felix cursed again the muddy terrain. He and the other charioteers were not meant to fight hand-to-hand. Already many of his aurigae friends had died, and the chariots sat untouched in their wagons. What difference weather could make!

  He stabbed again at the chest of an undead monster. The creature's brittle ribs cracked and the scent of death choked him. Bile filled his mouth. The lifeless grabbed at his wrist with an immensely strong grip. A chill filled his arm and the sword fell from his hand.

  Felix jumped back, but the thing did not let go and he nearly lost his balance. With inevitable joy, the corpse moved its ravenously grey mouth toward his hand.

  "No," Felix cried. He punched it in the head with his other hand as hard as he could. The thing did not relent much, but it was enough that Felix was able to jerk his hand back. It felt dead, numb.

  The snarling thing came for him. Felix dropped his left hand to his belt and he stabbed upward with his falx. It went into the corpse's eye, splattering pus and juices on his hand. He didn't even have time to be disgusted, as the lifeless fell, three more moved toward him.

  A red rage filled Felix. This was not the cold, instinctive fury that had won for him so many matches at the Hippodrome. This was white-hot rage, the kind that overrode all other thoughts.

  He was dimly aware of charging the lifeless, of stabbing, cutting, and swinging a gladius—where had that come from?—and of cutting down white-eyed foes until he panted with exhaustion. Swaths of disembodied and disemboweled lifeless surrounded him.

  Something sailed over his head, and there was an explosion of thunder. "Warfire!" Felix cried. Finally something good was happening, and it felt enormously satisfying to have a weapon the lifeless did not. He turned and saw Hyacinthus and four aurigae holding the deadly tzykalia. Together, they lofted more of the deadly missiles into the ranks of the undead.

  Thunder rolled through the thick air, and the sizzling smell of burning flesh filled his nose. The men were far enough, away, however, that the warfire did not deafen them. The lifeless lit up like dry kindling as the fire jumped through their ranks. Masses of burned bodies and ash fell to the ground.

  Felix leaned on his sword, too weary for celebrating. His long hair hung in sweaty clumps and he brushed his fringe from his face. Hundreds of the approaching monsters were walking into the wall of flame, and hundreds more had already melted from the intense heat. He did not know if it would be enough. He narrowed his eyes and scanned through the haze of the fire. It was hard to see, but it seemed like thousands of corpses still awaited.

  "This fire of yours is a boon from the gods," a voice said behind him.

  Iullianus stood next to him. He was breathing heavily and his hair was plastered to his skull with sweat, but he seemed unharmed.

  "I saw what you did, with that toy knife of yours. You fought well, lad."

  Felix swallowed the words, judging that no insult was meant. He did look young, and he was much smaller than this brute of a man.

  "You, too, Legatus. You and your woman. I've never seen someone fight with a shovel before."

  "I have had
too many blades break, and this shovel was my only friend for many long years," Iullianus said. He laughed, belying the craziness of his word. Felix could smell the musky sweat on the other man, though it mingled with the scent of blood and ash from the fire. "Though we have seen this many only once before, when they killed my entire legion in Dacia."

  "You had said something earlier. I thought you exaggerated."

  "No. Fewer than ten of us survived."

  Felix could not hide his shock. "So few? What happened?"

  "Much like this—we were entrenched in camp. We held off attacks for weeks, until there were finally too many of them. None of us should have survived." As the big man talked, a blur of movement near the canyon caught Felix's eye. He dismissed his initial thoughts and listened again to the big man. "We were saved by only one thing."

  "What was that?" Felix asked. He glanced again to the horizon, to the edge of the horde, and this time he knew.

  "Elephants," said Iullianus. "I had a force of well-trained war elephants. They managed to turn the tide of the battle enough that some of us survived. Though in truth, it took aid from a small army of Dacians as well."

  Felix could feel the bitterness in his smile. It was too extraordinary not to believe. He laughed harshly. "You are in luck then, Legatus."

  "I do not understand."

  The charioteer pointed toward the legions of the lifeless. They were parting, allowing for great gaps. Behind them came the lumbering beasts, shimmery behind the curtain of flame. Iullianus squinted, mouth frowning in concentration.

  Even at that distance, there could be no doubt.

  "For Mithra's sake!" Iullianus swore angrily. "What are we supposed to do against that?" He gestured toward the mountains that moved toward them. They had once been his, presumably.

  Now they were undead monsters, war elephants that could not die.