Clay Legionary (Clay Warrior Stories Book 1)

by J. Clifton Slater

  Two men approached from further up the vendor street. Both men were also amused as demonstrated by the wide grins on their faces. They slowed to observe the show before stepping up their pace. As they drew abreast of Ceyx, one pulled a club from behind his back.

  The club connected with Ceyx’s arm and the Legionary was launched away from the cart and to the side of the street. He lay still and defenseless. The attacker swung the blunt weapon back and forth as he casually strolled towards his victim.

  Alerio’s mother preached as he was growing up, ‘There was always time for good manners.’ The lesson took. Before Alerio rushed to help his companion, he bent to lay the loaf of bread on the table. That crouch saved him from the full impact of a second club.

  The club did strike the back of his head but it was a glancing blow. Alerio, disorientated from the blow, stumbled forward. His shins collided with the knee high wall of the restaurant and he flipped over and landed in the street.

  Laying on his back, Alerio shook his head attempting to focus his vision. A double image of the three men standing in the restaurant and looking down at him emerged. One held up a club.

  “From the Captain,” the man stated.

  Alerio was in no shape to fight. His ears rang, he couldn’t think, and the world was spinning around him. Anger flashed in his chest and he gritted his teeth. With effort, he rolled over, got his fists on the ground, and pushed up while driving forward with his legs.

  He sprinted with slow unstable steps right into the side of the man standing over Ceyx. The force of Alerio’s weight drove the man away from the Scout and into the second man. While the men tumbled over, Alerio squatted, tilted on the brink of falling over before placing a hand on the ground for balance. He snaked the other arm under Ceyx and stood them both up.

  Three voices called out in anger from the restaurant. Alerio, in his dizziness, couldn’t tell how far away the voices or the thugs were and didn’t care to stick around and find out. The two Legionaries staggered down the vender street. They crossed the mountain caravan trail moving unsteadily towards the cluster of warehouses.

  “What happened?” Ceyx asked. Alerio stumbled in reply but didn’t answer, “I think my right arm is broken. If not, it hurts enough to be.”

  Alerio staggered again and Ceyx ordered, “Grab my belt for stability.”

  The five attackers were in no rush. Although their prey had crossed the mountain route, the two victims were weaving back and forth. Even better, they were heading for the warehouses.

  One of the attackers enjoyed their plight and direction more than the other four. It would be quieter with less witnesses between the warehouse buildings. Sure the Captain wanted revenge on the men who had taken him prisoner, but among the warehouses was an opportunity. He would kill the Legionnaires and apologize when the Captain returned from the Golden Valley.

  The other four didn’t care one way or another. Two were the caravan guards who had recognized Speckled Pheasant in the cart. They’d gone to a known Rebel expecting a small reward. Instead, they were offered a substantial fee to help in killing or capturing the men holding the Rebel Leader. Two unscrupulous drovers were also hired. The plan was to disable the men and hold them for the Rebel Leader.

  The disgusting pig of a Rebel had issued the orders while squatting over the waste trench. Their dislike for the fat Rebel was offset by the promised coin.

  Alerio chanced to communicate verbally as his head cleared a little, “You got clubbed in the street. Me, in the restaurant.”

  “Speckled Pheasant is resourceful,” Ceyx admitted. He was cradling the injured arm and with each step pain radiated up and down the limb, “and lucky.”

  “No. We’re lucky,” Alerio observed. “If it weren’t for my mother we’d be at the tender mercy of the Captain by now.”

  “I don’t understand. But, if Mrs. Sisera had a hand in you pulling me off the street, I thank her,” Ceyx said. “You know at this pace a two and a half legged goat could catch us.”

  “I can run but I’m still dizzy,” admitted Alerio. “I’ll probably run into one of those fuzzy buildings up ahead.”

  “The pain is taking a lot out of me. I’m only good for a jog,” Ceyx advised him. “Lean on me and I’ll guide us. You supply the leg power.”

  The five attackers strolled casually behind their wounded prey. Why rush when you could easily stay within striking distance and the victims were headed in the correct direction anyway?

  The Legion trains beyond long distance running. In combat, units were required to rush from one position or formation to another. To assure a smooth and efficient maneuver, each Legionary spent time running sprints. Full rations, half rations, or quarter rations, it all depended on foot speed over a relative short distance.

  Caravan guards and drovers didn’t run a lot and they never ran wind sprint drills. When their prey suddenly straightened up and raced off, they picked up their pace, but didn’t run.

  The Legionaries passed the corner of the first storage building. At the end of the warehouse, Alerio glanced at the space between the buildings. He didn’t break stride.

  Ceyx didn’t know or care about the choice. His eyes closed involuntarily against the jarring pain. His legs faltered. After a sharp turn, he stumbled. If it weren’t for the young Legionary’s strong hold on his sword belt, he would have face planted on the street.

  Chapter 69 - Only Defenders Like Funnels

  The dizziness and double vision faded as Alerio ran. Hopefully, the sprint had put distance between them and their pursuers. He dared not turn to check. Spying what he was looking for he made a sharp turn. Ceyx slumped and tripped.

  “Only ten more paces, Lance Corporal,” Alerio shouted. “One, two, three, four…”

  Ceyx, being slightly invigorated by the countdown, forced an eye open, regained control of his legs, and added his own voice, “five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.”

  But, they continued running. “I thought you said ten?” Ceyx asked breathlessly.

  “I lied,” admitted Alerio as they continued to cross between storage buildings. “Do you know any songs?”

  “Songs?” asked Ceyx.

  For a minute, he became numb to the pain as he attempted to remember a tune. Then they passed into shadows. On either side, rough clay brick walls closed in blocking the sunlight. The deeper in they went, the narrower the space between the buildings. At the end of the alley, there was only room for a single man to turn sideways in order to squeeze through the opening.

  Ceyx found himself leaning against the side of a building. His curved knife was placed in his right hand and the weight of his gladius lifted as the sword was taken from his scabbard.

  “Lance Corporal Eolus. Watch my back,” Alerio directed. Then asked again, “Do you know any songs?”

  “Songs? What do you care about a song?” insisted Ceyx, “We’re about to be murdered by a handful of Rebel’s and you want to find your happy place?”

  “No. Not happy,” Alerio explained. “We have hard, hot work to do. Someone once told me, when the task is difficult and maybe beyond your abilities, find a rhythm and keep swinging until the end. So, give me a song.”

  “In that case,” said Ceyx. He cleared his throat and in a high pleasant voice, he began to sing.

  “Oh, the wolves came down from the hills, they did

  And the sheep dog watched in the night, he did

  While the shepherd boy slept on rocks, he did

  And the sheep stirred in fright.”

  “Oh, the wolves came down from the hills, they did

  And the sheep dog charged into the fight, he did

  While the boy grabbed sling and rocks, he did

  And the sheep stirred in fright.”

  “Oh, the wolves came down from the hills, they did

  And the dog and wolves exchanged bites, they did

  While the boy hurled words and rocks, he did

  And the sheep stirred in fright.”

  “Oh,
the wolvers scurried back to the hills, they did

  And the sheep dog hounded their flight, he did

  While the boy hurled the final rocks, he did

  And the sheep stirred in fright.”

  “Oh, the wolves vanished in the hills, they did

  And the sheep dog watched in the night, he did

  While the shepherd boy slept on rocks, he did

  And the sheep stirred in fright.”

  “Your people seem to prefer story verse,” Alerio commented as five men rushed to fill the entrance of the alleyway. The Legionary swirled both gladii in figure eights. “It’ll have to do,” he said as he stepped forward to meet the first two assailants. “Please, Lance Corporal Eolus, grace me with your song again.”

  “Oh, the wolves came down from the hills, they did. And the sheep dog watched in the night, he did,” Ceyx sang. As the words flowed he heard a distinct rough and out of tune echo of the song from the young Legionary.

  Partially to drown out the harsh vocal rendition of a beloved family folk song, and partially so Alerio could hear over the yelling and clash of swords and knifes, Ceyx sang louder.

  Alerio choose his spot in the alley. Just wide enough for two men to attack comfortably. The comfortable part was important so the men felt confident in a two on one attack. Apparently, they did as both men rushed forward.

  Alerio engaged the first man by slicing across the knee with his right gladius. The man fell and Alerio lifted the blade awkwardly as if he couldn’t believe the lucky strike. Of course the man on his left swallowed the act and charged. His long knife held high for a stab to the chest.

  “Oh, the wolves came down from the hills, they did. And the dog and wolves exchanged bites, they did,” Alerio rasped out as he opened the man’s gut. Then he jumped forward and caught another thug unready, “While the boy hurled words and rocks, he did. And the sheep stirred in fright.”

  Now in a rhythm, Alerio stabbed the fourth man in the solar plexus. His instructors always warned against a high center chest stab. Your blade might get caught between the flexible cartilage and the hard bone of the ribs. It was like getting your boot caught in mud. You could pull it out in time, but in combat, you don’t have time. He left the blade in the man’s chest and looked for the final Rebel.

  The man was spinning on his heels and preparing to bolt from the alleyway.

  “Oh, the wolvers scurried back to the hills, they did. And the sheep dog hounded their flight, he did,” Alerio crooned as he threw his gladius. It didn’t stick, however, the heavy steel sword landed with authority. The man fell. Before he could rise, Alerio had a foot on his back. “While the boy hurled the final rocks, he did. And the sheep stirred in fright.”

  “You sing like merda, Legionary,” the man mouthed.

  “What? I am blessed by the Goddess Canens with a manly singing voice,” Alerio stated. “But, I’m finished singing. Now it’s your turn. Who put you up to this?”

  There was a scuffling sound behind him. He turned just as Ceyx stabbed the man with the knee wound in the heart.

  “He didn’t know anything,” the Legionary explained. “Then he began pulling my arm. It hurt like Hades so I stopped him.”

  “Fair enough,” Alerio said before looking down at the Rebel. “Well?”

  “The Captain wants you dead,” the man announced. “By now, he’s already left for the Golden Valley. When he returns, he’ll cut your heart out.”

  Alerio reached down and snagged his gladius from the ground.

  “You know I’m getting mighty sick of the Captain and his threats,” Alerio admitted as he rested the tip of the blade on the back of the man’s neck. “I have one more question. How many men does the Captain have with him?”

  “Six archers and four swordsmen,” the man said gleefully. “Even if you catch him, you are a dead man.”

  Alerio slammed his fist into the bottom of the gladius and the blade penetrated three inches. Just enough to sever the man’s spinal cord.

  “What did he say?” asked Ceyx. The Legionary was having a hard time breathing and he held his injured arm deliciously.

  “Just that you and I are dead men,” replied Alerio as he wiped the blade on the dead Rebel’s back. “Let’s go find you a doctor.”

  “What about Speckled Pheasant?” Ceyx asked before a coughing fit forced him to gasp for breath.

  “He’s long gone and traveling with a mixed squad,” Alerio reported. “Right now, I’m more worried about you.”

  Chapter 70 - Rest, You’ll be Fine in a Month

  “Two cracked ribs and a broken humerus,” the Doctor reported. “Happens every time someone stands behind a mule.”

  The Physician had spent fifteen minutes painfully poking and prodding Ceyx. The Legionary had suffered the examination gamely, yet a few tears had dribbled down his cheeks.

  “I’ll wrap the ribs and put splints on the arm,” the Doctor explained as he wound a length of fabric around Ceyx’s chest. “And put the arm in a sling. You should be fine in a month. No heavy lifting. Rest and let your body heal is my advice.”

  “What about something for the pain?” inquired Alerio.

  “I don’t peddle them any longer,” admitted the Doctor. “See the old man at the herb tent. He under cuts my prices anyway.”

  They left the physician’s small cubical in the professional building. On the way out, a man stepped in front of them.

  “You can sue them,” he stated.

  “What do you mean?” Alerio asked.

  “You can sue the merchant for lost wages,” the man announced. “I’m a lawyer.”

  “I don’t think the man who did this is in any condition to pay up,” said Ceyx as he pushed by the attorney.

  “Where to now?” Alerio asked.

  “To see the herb man,” Ceyx stated. “Then we’re going back and get some venison. We never did get to finish our meal.”

  Twenty-five minutes later, they were hunched over platters of meat. Alerio was hunched while Ceyx sat stiff backed. He lifted a piece of venison straight up until it was level with his mouth. Then he pulled it to his mouth and began chopping.

  “I need to get to the Golden Valley before Speckled Pheasant,” Alerio whined. “But I haven’t the foggiest notion how to get there. Or how to get past the Rebel and his men.”

  “You’re not going alone,” Ceyx informed him. “Even if it kills me, I’m going with you.”

  “Can’t you just give me directions?” suggested Alerio.

  “Well that’s a thing,” admitted Ceyx. “It’s off a main mountain route and kind of north of there. You see, I’ve never actually been to the Golden Valley. As a matter of fact, very few people know the way to the Golden Valley.”

  The Legionaries busied themselves with meat, bread, mead and worries. All in equal proportions. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was about to touch the mountain top.

  “I know the way to the Golden Valley,” the owner’s teenage son announced.

  He had been at the barrels bending a bow to fit the new string. Because the establishment was mostly empty, he heard the entire conversation. After some thought, he marched to the table.

  “I know a way to the Golden Valley,” he repeated. “A short cut that will get you there ahead of any wheeled cart.”

  “And how would you know a shortcut to a place no one knows?” challenged Ceyx.

  “Last year, I was in the high mountains hunting,” explained the teen. “I was two weeks out and deep in a river valley. Suddenly, I heard a voice crying for help. It came from the river, and when I looked, I spied a boy being swept towards the rapids. Don’t know why but, I dropped my gear and jumped in.”

  The teen shivered as if recalling the memory of the icy water.

  “I got a hand on his shoulder and towed him to the bank. He was in bad shape but I rubbed his hands, pounded on his back, and lit a big fire,” the teen reported. “He woke and I shared my rations with him. Sometime in the night, five more boys arrived
. Most of them around nine years old.”

  “What were six nine-year-old kids doing out in the middle of nowhere?” asked Ceyx. “Was there an adult nearby?”

  “There was but the adult dove into the water to save the boy,” the teen stated. “They never saw him again. Here is the odd thing. The kids knew the way home but, they were too short to make the climb. Seems the adult would lift them over steep areas and let them walk when it was safe.”

  “So, where did the children live?” Alerio asked.

  “The Golden Valley,” the owner’s son replied. “It took me three weeks of lifting the wee ones, one by one, over riffs, across streams, and up short cliffs. But I got all of them home safely.”

  “Did you get a reward?” Ceyx inquired.

  “I make a good bow and great bow strings,” the teen bragged. “Every time I finish one, someone from the Golden Valley shows up and buys it. They pay far more than I could get from any Merchant.”

  “And you can show us the way to Golden Valley?” Alerio asked.

  “For a fee, of course,” the teen assured him.

  “What’s your name lad?” Ceyx asked. “If you’re going to be our guide, I’d like to have a name to call you.”

  “Brianus, or in some of the eastern languages, High Hill,” the teen announced. “Hunter, bow maker, and guide, at your service.”

  “We leave at dawn,” stated Alerio.

  “Can he carry his weight?” Brianus inquired by indicating the bandaged Ceyx. “It’s a hard climb over two mountains before the final climb to the Golden Valley.”

  “I’ll carry his gear if need be,” Alerio assured him. “We leave at dawn.”

  “You can pick up fur coats, mittens, hats, and packs at the tanner,” Brianus explained. “Use my name and he’ll give you a discount. I trade him my furs and he owes me. In the morning, we’ll get food stock from my father.”

  The Legionaries finished their meal and feeling better about the odds of completing their mission, left the restaurant.

  “The lad’s quite the businessman,” Alerio observed as they walked up the vendor street and away from the restaurant.