The First Compact: The Karus Saga (The Karus Saga: Book Book 3)

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “Fortuna seems to love complicating my life.” Karus blew out a long, unhappy breath and stood. “Well, there’s no helping it now.”

  “No,” Kol’Cara said, “there isn’t.”

  “I guess,” Karus said, gaze on the sleeping Vass, “in a way, he didn’t lie to us.”

  “You are right,” Kol’Cara said. “The healing potion would take away his pain. I had not expected him to have something … so rare. One thing is for certain …” The elf’s gaze returned to Ugin and he took a step nearer, voice trailing off, as if he’d just realized something.

  “What is that?” Karus asked.

  “We have to assume that amongst his people, Ugin is no simple Vass,” Kol’Cara said, “for only someone of great import would have had so valuable an artifact in his possession.”

  Karus’s eyes fell on the Vass, seeing Ugin with new eyes. When he woke, they would have a serious talk. If Karus did not like the Vass’s answers, agreement or no … Ugin would be locked up, at least until the legion left Carthum. Karus would see to it Ugin learned little about the legion’s strength and capability or where they were going. He sucked in a breath and let it out. Decision made, he turned to Kol’Cara.

  “Let’s get him loaded onto Cyln’Phax and be off,” Karus said. “It’s past time I returned to my legion.”

  Chapter Seven

  The smell of smoke hung on the air as Karus climbed down off the dragon’s back. Most of the elves were already on the ground and spreading out into the shrouded darkness of the empty palace gardens. Havren’Fen had remained on Cyln’Phax’s back and was busy untying the packs. The Vass was also secured, but he was still out and had not woken since he’d taken the potion.

  Karus could see the faint orange glow of fire from down in the city reflected on the low-hanging clouds overhead. As they had come in for a landing, it had rapidly become apparent a small section of Carthum was burning.

  Several buildings near the north wall were fully engulfed. If the fire got out of hand, the entire city could easily burn. Should that happen, the palace district, though separated by a wall, would likely burn as well. Karus could not have that, for it would mean the destruction of the legion’s supplies and difficult days to come. Still, he saw no reason to panic. The legion was likely battling the blaze, working to contain it from growing. They certainly had enough manpower to do so. He was sure he would get a report on the fire soon enough.

  Feeling stiff, Karus stretched out his back and let out a groan of relief. After so many hours sitting, it felt good to be back on the ground and once again standing on his own two feet. Their journey was finally at an end. And yet, oddly, no one had come to greet them.

  Cyln’Phax dragged her long tail around the side of her body, moving it out of the way of the elves. In the process, she demolished several of the remaining garden beds, uprooting the overgrown plants and weeds with appalling ease.

  Clutching her glowing staff in one hand, Amarra climbed down from her perch on Kordem’s back. She said something to Tal’Thor, who alone had remained on Kordem and was working on removing the packs. The elf looked down at her, replied, and then returned to his work.

  Karus was looking forward to spending some time alone with Amarra. It had been more than three weeks since they’d had any semblance of privacy. A good night’s sleep, under a roof and in a real bed, was what he needed. It had been an exceptionally long trip, and even the dragons seemed weary of travel. It was good to finally be back, where he belonged.

  From the palace, there came a sudden shout and then the pounding of feet, mixed with the jingle and chink of armor. Karus’s head snapped around. Ten legionaries had emerged out of the main entrance, shields and javelins held at the ready.

  There was an officer with them. In the darkness, Karus couldn’t see who it was. The legionaries rapidly made their way down the wide marble steps to the garden and then formed a line, with the officer to their side.

  Whether it was an honor guard or not, Karus was unsure. They locked shields and that decided it. They were no honor guard. Cyln’Phax swung her head around and growled at the legionaries. It came out as a deep, menacing sound that set the small hairs on Karus’s neck standing on edge. The legionary line uniformly took a startled step back as they suddenly made out the dragon in the darkness.

  “Easy,” Karus shouted in Common to the elves, who had brought their bows up. Arrows had been nocked and they were aiming at the legionaries. Though the elves were deadly, after he’d seen what they were capable of doing, he was more concerned about the dragons, particularly Cyln’Phax. “Do not attack. They’re friends.” He hastily switched to Latin and in his best parade-ground voice shouted at the legionaries, “Stand down, men. Stand down.”

  “Karus, is that you?”

  “Flaccus?” Karus asked, recognizing the voice.

  “Thank the gods,” Flaccus said, then turned to his men. “You heard the camp prefect. Stand easy, boys, javelins down.”

  The legionaries relaxed, lowering their shields and setting the butts of their javelins on the ground. In response, the elves lowered their bows. Cyln’Phax issued another, almost grudging growl, before laying her neck and head on the ground with a heavy thud, accompanied by a tremor that ran through the garden.

  Flaccus stepped forward toward Karus and without hesitation offered a crisp salute. Karus returned it.

  “It’s good to see you, sir,” Flaccus said, relief plain in his tone. The cantankerous centurion seemed genuinely sincere in his greeting. “Very good to see you. I’m not afraid to admit, I thought you dead. I am pleased I was wrong.”

  “That sentiment seems to be going around,” Karus said, thinking of the response Dennig had gotten when he’d returned to his warband. He glanced back at the dragons. “That wasn’t very bright. Those two dragons could easily have burned you down and the men too.”

  “Sorry, sir … I did not know it was you,” Flaccus said, with a nervous glance toward the dragons, who were little more than large shadows in the darkness. With the cloud cover, there was no moon and very little light. “I was told there were intruders in the gardens. I expected trouble, so I rounded up those I had on hand and we rushed out.” He gestured back toward the entrance to the palace. “Going from the light to the darkness, we couldn’t see the dragons until we got down the steps and formed a line. By then … well, it was too late. We were committed.”

  “You expected trouble?” What with the fire down in the city, Karus was becoming seriously concerned. “Flaccus, what’s going on here?”

  “Where to begin?” Flaccus glanced behind them at his men, as if he did not wish to speak in front of them. It was clear to Karus something bad had happened, and his worry reached new levels.

  “I don’t care where you begin”—Karus lowered his voice a tad, softening his tone—“just that you do, understand? I need to know what is going on.”

  Amarra joined him. In the darkness, her glowing crystal staff seemed brighter than usual. It shed a pool of dim blue light around them. Karus almost frowned as the light fell upon the centurion’s face. Flaccus appeared as if he’d missed several nights of sleep. There were serious bags under his eyes and his craggy face seemed more lined than usual. In the three weeks since Karus had last seen him, Flaccus had seemed to age.

  Flaccus’s expression became guarded, wary even, as his eyes flicked to Amarra. There was no warmth there for her, only coldness. Karus wondered if Flaccus thought Amarra a witch, like many of the men. They believed Karus had fallen under her spell. It was concerning, for he’d thought Flaccus above that.

  “What’s wrong, Flaccus?” Karus asked.

  At that moment, Kol’Cara stepped up next to Karus. The centurion’s gaze shifted to the elf. Karus could see the shock as Flaccus realized Kol’Cara was not altogether human. The hardened centurion took a half step back before his self-control halted him.

  “What is he?” Flaccus asked in a half gasp. “He looks like a man … but is not.”


  “Flaccus,” Karus said firmly, putting steel into his tone. It worked, drawing the other’s attention back to him. Introductions could wait a bit. “I need to know what is going on. I want a report and I want it now. Understand me?”

  “Ah, right, yes, sir,” Flaccus said, with another glance thrown to Kol’Cara. The centurion took a deep breath and turned his full attention on Karus. “The sickness has gotten much worse. At least eighty percent of the legion and auxiliary cohorts are down sick. Those numbers are consistent with the camp followers too. Since you left, over five hundred have died from the illness. The clerks will have an accurate tally at headquarters. That band of refugees we accepted … well, they’ve gone and revolted against us. They’ve taken a portion of the city into their keeping.”

  “Eighty percent? Five hundred dead? The refugees revolted?” Karus wasn’t quite sure he had heard correctly. His heart sank like a heavy rock tossed into a pond at hearing of not only the sickness destroying his legion, but also the setback to his plans on building a coalition. It was a double hammer blow. What possibly could have happened? What madness had overcome them? Revolt?

  “Yes, sir,” Flaccus said, tone grim, hard. “There’s been fighting. I’ve managed to pull the entire legion and auxiliaries into the palace district, including those who have fallen ill. It’s a bit cramped, but we’re all here and every man has a roof over his head. Right now, we’re in a sort of general standoff with the refugees. For the moment, we have the strength to man the palace district walls. They don’t have the numbers or determination to get in. It’s that simple, sir.”

  “Eighty percent?” Karus asked again, reeling at how badly his men were suffering. He could scarcely believe it. “Five hundred gone to the sickness, along with eighty percent of our strength ineffective?”

  “We lost about another hundred in the fighting.” Flaccus paused again, seeming discomforted. “That’s not the worst of it, sir. I know you were close, so I am just gonna come out and say it. Dio’s dead.”

  “Dio.” Amarra’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh, no.”

  “What is happening?” Kol’Cara asked, looking between them and Flaccus.

  Ignoring the elf, Karus closed his eyes at the unexpected news. The pain he felt struck to his core, threatening to overwhelm his normal iron-clad control. He had lost comrades before, but never like this. Dio was one of his oldest and most trusted friends. They had cut their teeth together as common legionaries. It was almost unimaginable … inconceivable that he was gone. “How? Was it the sickness?”

  Amarra turned to Kol’Cara and in a low tone explained in the common tongue what had just transpired. As Flaccus continued, she began translating for the elf.

  “No, sir,” Flaccus said, anger coloring his voice. “He was murdered by that bastard Logex.”

  Logex was one of the leaders of the refugee band they had taken in. Karus had offered them shelter in return for protection. He had given their ragged band a chance to survive. Karus felt his anger heat to the boiling point. This was how they repaid his generosity? Murder?

  “Why?” Karus asked. “Why did they do it?”

  “While you were gone, we took in another band of refugees Valens had found wandering about, around two thousand hungry mouths. With their added numbers, we formed another auxiliary cohort. As more of our people fell ill, even though none of their own got sick … both groups became frightened. About a week ago, the training cohorts stopped taking orders. Though he could barely speak their language, Dio went to talk to their leaders, to reason with them, plead even.” Flaccus sounded disgusted with that last bit. The disgust turned to bitter anger.

  “Instead of listening, Logex seized Dio and his escort. They held them hostage, demanding we turn over our food and transport in exchange for the hostages. When Felix refused, they murdered him.” Flaccus balled his fists. “Sir, they slit Dio’s throat in front of me. There were no further demands or discussion. The bastards just killed Dio and his escort, as if they were making some point.” Flaccus paused to take a heated breath. “After that, well … Felix led two cohorts to punish them. The fighting was hard. You know how brutal house-to-house can get. That was when Felix was injured.”

  “Not Felix too,” Karus breathed. The earlier blow now felt like a gut punch.

  “He took a spear to the thigh,” Flaccus said. “It went clean through the muscle and thankfully missed the artery. If the wound doesn’t turn bad, he’ll live. At worst, it should keep him off his feet for a few weeks. Ampelius says he may have a permanent limp.”

  Feeling relieved beyond measure, Karus gave a nod. He would have to check in on Felix later, but needed to hear the rest.

  “What happened after that?”

  “The bastards sealed themselves into a portion of the city and blocked the streets,” Flaccus said. “We’ve been unable to dig them out. With Felix down, and the other senior centurions ill, command fell to me, sir. As more of our men fell sick, I didn’t have the strength to continue the effort against the refugees. I deemed it best to move everyone into the palace district, at least until we could recover sufficient numbers to sortie out again. We have the food stores and good walls for defense.” Flaccus paused to take a breath. “Some of the boys are getting better, sir. Those who don’t die seem to recover without any problems or lingering effects. Fifty were able to return to duty just today alone and thirty the day before that. I am hopeful that in a few days a good portion of the legion will recover.”

  Karus was silent as he considered Flaccus’s words. That men were recovering was a good sign. And yet, he knew the Horde was unlikely to give him the time he needed for the rest of the legion to recover. Karus shook his head slightly, feeling intense frustration. He now found himself in an impossible maze with seemingly no way out. He hadn’t expected things to fall apart so badly.

  “Command fell to me,” Flaccus repeated. “I believe I made the best decision I could, sir, by pulling the legion back, that is.”

  It was apparent Flaccus was concerned that Karus might question his decision-making. Heck, Karus realized, Flaccus had likely been second-guessing himself for the past few days. It was clear the weight of ultimate responsibility had taken a toll on him. Physically, he looked terribly run-down. The man needed some positive reinforcement, for Karus could not fault his actions.

  “You did right,” Karus said. “Moving everyone to the palace district was good thinking. Above all else, the safety of the legion comes first. You looked after the boys. I could not have asked for more.”

  “I only did what I thought best, sir,” Flaccus said. “I don’t like the idea of leaving those traitorous bastards out there without paying them back in kind.” Flaccus paused and then lowered his voice so the men could not hear. “I never wanted to be in charge, sir. I am a cohort commander, plain and simple. That is all I ever wanted. Now that you’ve returned, command rightly falls to you … Karus, I wish I was the bearer of better news … but, just the same … welcome back. The legion is yours.”

  Karus gave another nod and glanced over at the men behind Flaccus. They appeared tense, stressed … Having led men for much of his adult life, he could sense it in their being, their manner. He understood it was a microcosm of the pressure the entire legion was surely under … what with having been uprooted and transported to a strange world, the current sickness … all of it … He understood the strain on the men must be immense.

  What he saw told him his legion was hanging on by a mere thread. All it would take was another major shock or setback for the thread to snap and then all would be lost. Discipline could only take one so far. If the thread snapped, there would be no more legion, just a mass of frightened men looking out only for themselves.

  “Karus,” Kol’Cara said, drawing his attention after Amarra had finished translating. “I have heard of other humans new to this world … those having come through the World Gate … becoming sick, just days after their arrival. It is possible your people suffer from the same sickness.”r />
  That, Karus thought, did not sound good. “Is there a cure? Or a treatment?”

  “Not that I am aware of,” Kol’Cara said. “The strong survive, but it seems to be something of this world that affects you humans in particular. Elves do not suffer from this disease. It must be some type of a sickness, perhaps for which your bodies have no defense until you survive it?”

  Karus found it incredibly maddening. This disease had become as much his enemy as the Horde. Worse, he could not see or fight the enemy that was burning its way through the legion. Fortuna was playing a cruel game with him and it was costing him his men. It may even ultimately cost him the legion. On top of that, Dio had been murdered and Felix wounded.

  He turned back to Flaccus and started to speak, then stopped. Karus felt a wave of intense guilt threaten to overcome him, a near tidal wave of emotion. Just as the High Father had asked, he had retrieved the sword, but … at what price? It had been his decision to leave, to effectively abandon the legion. What had followed in his absence was surely his fault.

  Why had he left?

  He should have listened to his gut and stayed. He should have heeded Dio’s counsel. He had instead disregarded his friend. Karus knew now, without a doubt, he should have remained in Carthum. His place was with the legion. The sword could have waited. If he had stayed, perhaps things would have worked out differently.

  “I’m sorry,” Amarra said. She reached out a hand and gripped his, squeezing slightly. “I am so sorry, Karus.”

  For a long moment, Karus gazed back at her blankly. He felt the sting in his eyes of frustration and loss. He blinked away the tears before they could fully form.

  “I’m sorry, Karus,” Amarra said again with much feeling, “for Dio and all that’s happened.”

  Karus sucked in a ragged breath. He cleared his throat before attempting speech.

  “I’m sorry, too.” Karus’s voice was gruff, and with those words, his heart hardened, becoming iron-like. His anger mounted. He pulled his hand free from her grip. It came to rest on the sword. The tingle that ran up his arm and into his being had become a familiar and welcomed friend. The darkness lightened ever so slightly and so too did his grief. A sullen, burning anger filled the void.