Clay Legionary (Clay Warrior Stories Book 1)

by J. Clifton Slater

  Speckled Pheasant sat thinking for a long minute. Maybe he could ask for a partial refund. After all, the man had said the one guard shouldn’t have been a problem. While he thought, he eyeballed the shadowy figures on the shelves around the dome and remembered he was as much a prisoner as a guest in the Golden Valley.

  “The terms of the contract shall be voided,” he announced. “May I go now?”

  “Not just yet, Captain,” the woman replied. “There is the matter of retribution for the lost Nocte Apibus.”

  Alerio tightened his back, expecting any second, the sharp pain from a spear or an arrow. With the Rebel seemly off the hook, the price of retribution most certainly would be his life.

  “We test all who return a Nocte Apis,” the woman announced. “However, in all the years of the Dulce Pugno, never have we lost, and needed to recover four Night Bees.”

  The evil grin was back on Speckled Pheasant’s face. Alerio ignored the fat Rebel and began exercises to loosen his shoulder muscles. If combat was the test, he might go down, but he’d go hard, taking as may assassins as possible with him.

  Chapter 77 - The Retribution Trial

  “All parties concerned have agreed to void the contract,” the woman explained. “There remains only the matter of the guards left on the wall. Were our apprentices unready for a mission beyond our Valley? Or, did they meet an unusually skilled swordsman?”

  A hush fell over the crowd and all eyes in the dome were on her.

  She inhaled deeply. As her chest fell from letting out the breath, she pronounced, “If they were ill trained, the fault is ours. The failure to remove a guard would have made no difference. Conversely, if the failure to remove the guard placed them in the path of a deadly warrior, the fault rests with the Captain. Therefore, Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera will be tested. If he truly is an exemplary fighter, he will pass the trial. In that case, he and the Captain will be free to go.”

  “But, if he fails,” the woman continued. “It proves the Dulce Pugno were not ready. This makes the removal of an ordinary soldier off the wall paramount to the successful completion of the contract. In that case, The Lance Corporal and the Captain will die.”

  Speckled Pheasant jumped up from the chair. “This isn’t part of our agreement,” he yelled. “Even if my men didn’t remove enough guards, I shouldn’t have my fate tied to the Legionary. He killed the Dulce Pugno. He took the Nocte Apibus. He should pay the price.”

  Alerio was struck dumb. His life or the Rebel’s, he understood. Having both their lives depending on his success was confusing and somehow comforting. He gazed up at the antics of the fat man and laughed.

  “Sit down Captain,” the woman ordered. Then she turned to Alerio and instructed, “Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera. Your test began earlier. Ponder this as you proceed with each coming phase.”

  Alerio began mentally retracing everything he had experienced since arriving at the Golden Valley. Nothing came to mind and his ponderings ended when hemp lines dropped from the dome above. He reached over his shoulders for the gladii.

  Five young boys came sliding down from the dark. They hit the sand too hard and each staggered from the impact. Alerio released his grip on the hilts. For a second, he almost went to help the awkward boys collect themselves.

  One at a time, they pulled foot long wooden tubes from their belts. One end of each tube was cut on a gradual angle. Not sharpened enough to stab with any efficiency and from the way they handled the wooden instruments, not heavy enough to use as a club.

  The boys spread out in a semi-circle and advanced towards him. It was ridiculous. Alerio glanced behind and above to see if the little boys were a decoy for a deadlier attack. Nothing showed itself but, these were assassins, so in his cursory look, he might have missed something.

  Three of the boys had their wooden tubes held up as if to stab downward. He couldn’t help himself.

  “What manner of wood is that?” he demanded.

  “Bamboo,” two of them replied.

  “I’ve heard if this reed,” he said. “Now, switch your grips. In a knife fight, you wouldn’t have a chance to stab downward. You need to jab or slice your foe.”

  One of the boys held out his tube. Alerio took it and demonstrated the proper grip.

  “Stab or slice,” he said. “Also, feet, all of you stand with your feet a shoulder’s width apart. One foot should be slightly behind the other.”

  As if he were their instructor, they all fell into the correct fighting form.

  “Class is over,” he said. Then just to see how they would react, he ordered them, “Drop you weapons, and leave the dome.”

  The little ones marched by him setting down their weapons until he had a stack at his feet. Alerio looked up at the woman and man on either side of Speckled Pheasant. Their expressions gave no clue if the little ones’ harmless assault was a part of the test or not.

  A sound carried across the pit. It resembled the noise made by handfuls of sand running between fingers. Alerio spun around to see four figures emerge from the black sandy floor. He hadn’t noticed any lumps or movement in the sand when he’d looked before.

  With both hands up ready to unsheathe his gladii, Alerio waited to see what form the attack would take. Bamboo poles, about six feet in length, were held above the heads of four boys. The boys were about twelve years old. He dropped his arms into an empty handed guard position. The four assaulters spread out and moved forward until they surrounded the Legionary.

  From the high tier, Speckled Pheasant shouted, “Pull your swords, you idiot. Pull your swords and kill them. What is wrong with you? Kill them.”

  Alerio ignored the Rebel. He could only see two of the attackers at a time but two was enough. A tiny nod from one and lip movements from the other tipped him off to their tactics.

  The nod started a countdown and the lip movements were the count. Alerio would know the order of attack once one moved. An almost imperceptible shuffle of sand identified the first attacker. He was behind and to Alerio’s right.

  Alerio waited until the shuffle revealed a full step. He dropped to one knee, reached over his head and caught the bamboo pole. By pulling the pole and the boy forward, he managed to capture the boy’s wrists. A jerk and the boy went flying over Alerio’s head. He landed hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs but not hard enough to break bones.

  The second attacker was in motion. He was to the Legionary’s left front. Again the pole was caught, the wrists captured and the boy sent flying through the air.

  Alerio didn’t wait for the third attacker. He jumped at the boy to his right front and snatched the pole. A simple leg trip and the Legionary had spun away before the boy hit the sand. The bamboo pole of the third attacker was knocked aside, and Alerio punched the boy in the chest with an open hand. The boy sailed back a couple of feet before plowing into the sand.

  After picking up all four poles, he stepped back so all the boys were in view.

  “You divulged your tactics by waiting for your formation to set,” Alerio explained. “If you had attacked before waiting for everyone, you might have succeeded. Four surrounding one opponent is unnecessary. Two to a side working together is more powerful than a crossed single attack.”

  To everyone in the dome’s surprise, he tossed the poles back to the startled boys.

  “Do it again. Attack me, two to a side,” he ordered. “Do not delay.”

  The boys didn’t. While Alerio received a few taps to his arms, the boys suffered the same fate as before. They all ended laying in the sand with their poles in the Legionary’s hands.

  “Better,” he informed them. “Next time have one come in high and the other attack low.”

  The boys jumped up and crowded together in front of the Legionary. They just stood there as if waiting for something.

  “Leave the dome,” Alerio said wondering if they would obey.

  The four boys scrambled for an exit tunnel leaving Alerio standing in the sand holding four bamb
oo poles. He stood baffled at the nature of the test, until a burning sensation tore down the back of his left arm.

  He did three things that saved his life. One, he didn’t waste time turning to see who or what had attacked him. Two, he swung the bamboo poles over his head. They connected with something as he did the third thing that saved his life. He kicked out a leg as he spun down to the sand. By rotating his body, the leg swept around and caught the attacker in the knees.

  The attacker continued jabbing with his knife as he went horizontal. It was a good tactic except Alerio had curled his upper torso to bring his arms and shoulders around. While the knife jabbed where his head should have been, Alerio’s elbow was inside the attacking arm.

  Alerio’s elbow followed the assassin to the sand and pounded into his chest, breaking a rib when he landed. After prying the knife from the attacker’s hand, Alerio hovered it over the man’s eye socket. He was a heartbeat and three inches from scrambling the man’s brain when Speckled Pheasant yelled.

  “Kill him. Kill him, yes, kill him,” the Rebel screamed incessantly.

  Bile rose in the Legionary’s throat at the sound of the voice and the sour taste reminded him of how much he detested the Rebel Captain. Alerio flipped the knife into the air, caught it by the hilt, and pounded the butt end into the attacker’s forehead. The man would have an epic headache tomorrow, but he would live.

  Alerio didn’t look up at the spectators while reaching around to check his wound. Instead, he began to slowly turn in circles while his fingers explored the injury. It was a long deep scratch. More than likely, the attacker had run at his back. His error was over extending the knife for the initial attack. Only the tip of the blade had touched the arm. It was enough to open a wound but the bleeding wasn’t the streaming flow he expected.

  Playtime was over. Alerio reached over his shoulders, gripped the hilts, and drew both gladii.

  “Who is next,” he shouted, while holding out the blades. He continued to turning and scanning the pit.

  Then, the crowd heard something funny. The Legionary was humming. They couldn’t tell what song as the tune had no rhythm nor did it follow any musical pattern. Nonetheless, the humming was soon accompanied by sword drills. They observed fascinated as the blades flashed faster and faster and Alerio flowed smoothly from one position to another.

  Alerio wasn’t showing off or putting on a show. These were assassins, and as he experienced in the last attack, the next one could come from any direction.

  The assailant on the ground groaned and pushed up to his knees. Alerio strolled over and his blades blurred in circles on either side of the assassin’s head. Still on hands and knees, the assassin looked from side to side at the spinning steel blades.

  Alerio leaned forward and whispered, “Run.”

  A roar of warning came from the spectators as the assailant rose to a sprinter’s position between the confines of the blades. Alerio watched as the dizzy man ran and staggered to an exit tunnel.

  The Legionary resumed his vigil of turning and watching for the next attack.

  “Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera,” the woman on the tier called out.

  “Yes, I can hear you,” Alerio replied as he spun and scanned.

  “The test is done,” she announced. “Please put away your swords and follow the boy.”

  The ten-year-old who had guided him to the fighting pit was standing at an exit. A huge grin plastered on his face, he beckoned to the Legionary. Alerio hesitated at the abrupt ending of the test. Slowly he sheathed the gladii and marched across the sand towards the boy.

  Chapter 78 - Honor Among Assassins

  The boy guided him down different tunnels. Before they arrived, Alerio smelled food and heard the low hum of conversation. When they stepped into a dining hall, he was shocked when a woman waved him to a chair at the head of a table. He paused and glanced at those already seated.

  Sitting at the table were the five little boys. All grinning and nudging each other at the sight of the Legionary. Next to them were the four teens trying to look stern and adult, except their wide eyes displayed their adulation and spoiled the act. The last occupant was an older man. A bandage circled his head and his body was wrapped tightly in another.

  “Our guest, Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera of the Legion,” a familiar voice announced. It was the woman from the chair to Speckled Pheasant’s right. “Please Lance Corporal, sit,” she ordered. “We don’t get much company in the Golden Valley.”

  The woman waved an arm at a chair as she entered the room.

  “Is the food poisoned?” Alerio asked. “Or do I get a Nocte Apis in the back after a last meal?”

  “Goodness no,” she explained. “You passed the test with honors.”

  “It wasn’t much of a test,” confessed Alerio. “I’ve had harder fights.”

  “Oh, we already knew you could fight,” she advised him. “Anyone who can kill an associate of the Dulce Pugno is already a proven warrior. No, we test for character. A raging killer, an arrogant cūlus, or a braggart would have failed the test.”

  “But you placed the boys in the fighting pit with me?” Alerio said. Then looking as, the little ones slumped and shame washed over the teens, he added, “Although they displayed bravery and deadly skills, it was dangerous.”

  The woman beamed at the table of young people who brightened at the praise, before responding.

  “Not as dangerous as you might think,” she reported. “We had seven archers on the upper tier targeting you.”

  Alerio understood if he had hurt one of the youths, he would have become a pin cushion before he could hurt another.

  He asked, “You said the test started before the pit. What did you mean?”

  “The boy who fetched you from your room,” the woman explained “He was close enough for you to strike or to scold for sneaking in uninvited. Had you abused him, the test would have been very different.”

  “So that’s it,” Alerio said hopefully. “I can leave and return safely to my Century?”

  “No, there is one more aspect that only applies to those passing the test,” the woman admitted. “It doesn’t affect those who fail, as they can’t talk about what they’ve seen or done here. You can.”

  Alerio sat down stiffly when the woman paused.

  “So the final retribution is, you must leave our region,” she announced. “In other words, you are exiled. We can’t have anyone pointing you out as the man who killed four Dulce Pugno. The Golden Valley doesn’t have an army to protect it. The survival of every man, woman, and child depends on fear of Dulce Pugno to deter our enemies.”

  “How long do I have to pack?” asked Alerio sarcastically.

  “From the time you reach your Legion Post,” the woman replied. “Thirty days. After that, if you’re found on our shores, you will be murdered in your sleep along with anyone near you.”

  There was a noise at the entrance and trays of food appeared. Ham baked in a honey glaze, fresh biscuits, butter mixed with honey, and steamed vegetables were placed on the table.

  Alerio inhaled and his mouth watered at the aroma.

  “In case you attempt to stay by changing your name,” the woman added. “Remember, everyone at this table knows your features. Now for something more pleasant.”

  Ten pair of eyes peered at him. Gone were the looks of awe. They had been replaced by studious stares. Under the glares, the aroma no longer seemed so appealing.

  One of the little boys pushed back his chair and marched to a side table. He picked up an object wrapped in a white cloth and carried it to Alerio.

  “For you master,” the boy said as he handed over the package.

  Despite the test, the exile, and the promise of death, his mother’s reminder to always be polite echoed in his mind.

  “Thank you, little Dulce Pugno,” Alerio said graciously. He was rewarded by a wide smile which displayed missing teeth.

  The child returned to his seat as the Legionary peeled back the fabric.


  “As I explained,” the woman said as the layers fell away. “You passed the test with honor. Your bravery and good heart were displayed when you spared and then taught each group of students. For that, you are deemed an Ally of the Golden Valley.”

  Alerio folded back the final corner. In the cloth laid a long curved dagger with a wide yellow band in the center of a black hilt. He drew the weapon. A small engraving of a bee hovering over a flower was etched in the upper part of the blade.

  “We have friends and associates around the Republic, and in the kingdoms across the sea,” she declared while pointing to the dagger. “This is a symbol of our allies. While it doesn’t allow you to send us to kill for you, the symbol will get you sanctuary, protection, medical attention, and any information we are privy to. Also, the Dulce Pugno will not accept a contract on an Ally of the Golden Valley.”

  “What about an exile who stays?” Alerio asked hopefully. Then another though occurred to him and he added, “Is Speckled Pheasant banished?”

  “You must leave our shores,” the woman explained. “As for the Captain? He didn’t kill a Dulce Pugno nor does he know anything about the Golden Valley.”

  “I haven’t seen much of the Valley either,” admitted Alerio.

  “The Captain was brought in one entrance and placed in a luxury suite,” the woman stated. “From there, he went directly to the arena. Also, he left before daylight so he has no knowledge of the Valley’s layout. You will, and we trust you to never divulge the information, Ally of The Golden Valley.”

  As the woman left, Alerio looped the dagger on his belt and filled a plate. The first bite of food revived his hunger and he dug into the ham and vegetables.

  “You fight two handed?” asked the man in the bandages. “How is that possible?”

  Alerio began telling him about the need to switch hands when he was smaller. During the explanation, the teens and children began dueling in the air with a fork in one hand and a knife in the other. He wasn’t sure but, he might have just added a new technique to the assassins’ arsenal.