“How can you be certain they turned on the Adile?” Karus asked.
“In the short time they were amongst us, I got to know the refugees, sir,” Divius said. “I even picked up some of their common tongue. Well, sir, I saw more bodies in the street from the Adile than I did of the other two. We also eyeballed men of the Taka’noon helping the Sersay haul carts loaded with food back to their camp in the city. We followed them, sir, and saw no Adile about.”
“There weren’t none in their camp either, sir,” Lanza added. “It was like the Adile upped and moved. There’s no telling where they are in the city, or if any are left. The Sersay and Taka’noon are not exactly the nicest bunch of barbarians we’ve met.”
There was a strong chance the Adile had been the ones to find the warehouse. Once they had been admitted to the city, the refugees had turned over their food to the legion, which had been moved to the palace district. It was part of the arrangement Karus had made with their leaders.
If Karus had been a betting man, he’d have willingly wagered good money that the Adile had not told the Sersay or Taka’noon what they’d discovered. Hence the discord amongst them. It also told him they were hungry and becoming desperate.
“How do you know the Adile so well?” Karus asked, suddenly curious.
“Divius was transferred to the First Light Carthum Cohort,” Flaccus answered for the man. “He took over after Ipax fell ill, while you were away, sir.”
Karus gave an absent nod as he thought over what both men had told him. That there was a division amongst the refugees, and that they’d been killing each other, was welcome news. It ultimately meant the job of dealing with them would be slightly easier.
The legion would still need to dig the bastards out of the city, and something like that was never a simple enterprise. He just hoped that when they were dislodged, Logex was captured. Karus wanted him alive. The High Father might be in a forgiving mood this night, but Karus most certainly was not. The man would pay for his actions and what he’d done to Dio.
“Anything else you can tell us?” Karus asked.
“Not much, sir,” Divius said. “Centurion Flaccus ordered us to be cautious and avoid detection. We couldn’t get too close or we’d have run the risk of being discovered.”
“You did good,” Karus assured the man. “You have my thanks … both of you.”
Karus saw both men’s eyes widen as they looked beyond him. Karus and Flaccus turned. The mass of men had parted and Amarra, with Si’Cara still at her side, was approaching, walking confidently across the parade ground toward them. She was encased in the same bubble of white light. In the early morning gloom, she stood out brilliantly, a veritable pool of moving light. Karus had to admit, she looked quite the stunning sight. Behind her, after a slight hesitation, the men silently began to follow.
She stopped before them, her attention fixed on Divius and Lanza. With her nearness, Karus keenly felt the sense of peace … the High Father’s power … almost pulsating outward in waves. The men who had followed gathered about them in a large circle, crowding around to see what would happen next, eager even.
“The High Father is willing to bless you,” Amarra said to Divius and Lanza, “if in return you both are willing to honor, love, and give him your faith.”
Divius looked uncertain, his eyes going to Flaccus. The optio’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Like the rest of them, it was clear he felt the power radiating forth from Amarra.
“I would take what is offered,” Flaccus told the two men. “This night the High Father healed the entire legion of the sickness … the camp followers too. Amarra is the god’s High Priestess.”
“Jupiter, sir?” Divius asked, looking to Karus. “The High Father is Jupiter … is that true, sir? Some of the centurions were saying it was …”
“I told you it was,” Flaccus said, testily.
“It is, son,” Karus said. “He’s known as the High Father on this world. Jupiter sent her to be a light in the darkness for us.” He glanced over at Amarra. That the legion had been saved from the disease was an incredible relief. The feeling of closeness to his god seemed to deepen, as did his feelings for her. Without Amarra, none of this would have been possible.
“Though it has not yet taken hold,” Amarra said, drawing their attention again, “the sickness is in you both. Should you forego the High Father’s blessing, in the days to come, you will both fall ill. Whether or not the sickness takes you … I do not know. The High Father gives us all free will of heart. As such, the choice is yours.”
Lanza licked his lips and then swallowed. The legionary knelt almost reverently before Amarra.
“My mum taught me to honor the gods. You won’t see me turn aside a blessing,” Lanza said as Divius took a knee before her also.
“I would ask to be blessed,” Divius said. “The High Father … Jupiter … has my faith … He always has.”
Amarra held the staff toward the two men. It was glowing just as brilliantly as the bubble of light around Amarra. Both men looked at her, unsure, hesitant.
“Reach out,” she told them and gave an encouraging nod.
Lanza did as instructed. When his fingers touched the staff, a beam of light shot out and into him. He gasped, eyes growing wider, if that was possible. Amarra moved the staff toward Divius. The man hesitated a moment, then grasped it, with the same result.
“That was incredible.” Divius’s breath came fast, as if he’d run a long distance. After a moment, he reluctantly released the staff and shared a look with Lanza. There were tears in his eyes. “Just incredible. I felt him. I felt the High Father’s love.”
“I did too …” Lanza whispered, almost as if to himself. “The love … I’ve never known anything like it.”
“The sickness is gone. You have both been judged worthy,” Amarra said, with a knowing smile. “The High Father loves us all, even if at times we forget. You may both rise.”
“Thank you,” Divius said.
“There is no need to thank me,” Amarra said. “Trust me, your faith is enough.”
Both men stood and then stepped back several paces as Amarra turned to Karus and moved closer.
“And now we come to you, my love,” Amarra said. “Though you have already been blessed greatly by the High Father, the sickness is within and it’s growing.” She closed her eyes and held forth her hand toward his chest, palm held outward. “I can now feel the disease, an evil and vile thing … spawned by a dark god.” She grimaced, as if she’d bitten into a sour apple. “It is spreading rapidly.” She opened her eyes, lowered her hand, and focused on him intently. “The sickness needs to come out, before it has a chance to become worse.”
Karus had suspected he’d been infected. But the dark god stuff was new. That worried him, for he recalled the twisted creatures of evil in the city. He eyed the men circled around them. Their gazes were fixed on him and Amarra. Beyond just being healed, Karus suddenly realized this was an incredibly important moment for the men and, in a manner of speaking, himself too.
Though she’d already healed everyone else, he was keenly aware he would be setting the example for all to follow from here on out. The healing had begun the process, but Karus needed to strengthen Amarra’s position as the spiritual leader of their people … harden the cement foundation. He would not see it questioned again, at least by the Romans.
He returned his gaze to Amarra and found her searching his face. Karus knew he must show not only his devotion to the High Father, but also his faith. He needed to give a demonstration of his belief, something he’d been loath to do in the past.
“So be it,” Karus said softly to himself. He slowly and quite deliberately got down onto one knee, before bowing his head before her. Romans only ever knelt before the gods. They did not even bend a knee to the emperor.
“I thank the High Father,” Karus said, loudly enough for the nearest men to hear.
He knew what he said here this morning would be repeated throughout
the entire legion, the auxiliaries, and the camp followers. It would also likely grow and become exaggerated in the telling. He hesitated, then started again and raised his voice to help it carry farther.
“I thank the High Father for his many blessings, including sending us his High Priestess, Amarra. He is first amongst the gods and will always be so.” Karus sucked in a breath. “The High Father promised us Romans an empire without end. I pledge my life to fulfilling this task, to lead the legion as a shepherd might a flock and protect his people.” Karus raised his voice again and hardened his tone. “We cannot go home, but we can create a new empire, a Roman empire. I will give all of my strength … to my dying breath, to see his will is done in this world … or the next, wherever our new home will be.”
Without even needing to reach for it, the staff flashed with light. The entire parade ground before the palace was lit in pure white brilliance. Karus felt the warmth of the High Father’s touch infuse his being, along with his god’s love and approval for his actions. Then, in a flash, it was gone, once again wrenched painfully away. He almost sobbed at the loss of contact with the High Father, but instead looked up at Amarra and found comfort in her gaze. There were tears brimming in her eyes. She smiled proudly as she reached down, grasped his elbow, and helped him to his feet.
The bubble of light encasing her had vanished, though her hair was still perfectly white, almost shiny in the growing early morning light. The crystal staff had also lost its glow, completely. In fact, he had to do a double take, for the staff was no longer a staff.
It had transformed back into a spear … Jupiter’s spear … like the one she’d been handed beneath the ruined temple. Only this one wasn’t marble at all but had a well-worn wooden shaft, with a wicked-looking steel head that had been sharpened into a deadly point.
The men gave a thunderous cheer, tearing Karus’s gaze away from the spear. Amarra took his hand in hers and squeezed. He turned back and gazed into her eyes as they continued to cheer. In them, he saw a sense of great satisfaction and love. But there was also a sadness lurking within.
“What is it?” Karus asked, leaning closer.
Amarra hesitated, then glanced toward the spear in her hand. “I can no longer heal. That was taken from me. It is now forbidden for me even to make the attempt. Healing is now, I believe, forever beyond my reach.”
“Why?” Karus was perplexed.
“The High Father warned me not to squander the power of the staff.” Amarra touched her chest. “I didn’t … Healing your people was the right thing to do. It had to be done or all would have been lost. I feel it so … why I was given the staff. And I used all that was within, every last bit.”
“The staff has no more power?” Karus asked. “Was that why it turned back to a spear?”
“It has no more power to heal,” Amarra said, glancing at the weapon in her grasp. She turned her gaze back to him. “This night is a turning point, a forking of the road. There is a different path I must take, a more difficult one to walk. That much I am certain … it was made clear.”
“I don’t like that one bit.” Karus felt himself frown. “And I am not sure I understand.”
“Neither do I,” Amarra said, “not yet, not fully. But we must trust and have faith. The High Father has a plan for us both.”
After all that he’d seen, Karus had no doubts about that.
“It is clear the High Father sent you a message, mistress,” Si’Cara said to Amarra, stepping closer.
Amarra glanced at the weapon in her hand before turning her gaze to Si’Cara. She tilted her head slightly to the side. “And what do you think that message is?”
“That he means for you to be a warrior priestess. I would have thought that obvious, what with the staff transforming into a spear.”
Karus shared a look with Amarra. He feared Si’Cara was right, and that worried him. He felt a strong desire to protect … to shield the woman he loved from danger. Karus knew that in the end, even if he tried, he would only fail once more, like he’d failed with the refugees. For both he and Amarra seemed to attract trouble almost beyond belief.
“A spear can be a difficult weapon to master,” Si’Cara added. “It is fortunate I am quite skilled with one. I will instruct you to use it well.”
“I think that might be a good idea,” Amarra said. “Yes, I would welcome such training.”
“What I will teach,” Si’Cara said, “is more than just sticking someone with the pointy end.”
“Oh?” Amarra asked, suddenly amused. “Really?”
“Yes.” Si’Cara grew serious. “I will teach you to fight with a sword, dagger, and your hands if needed … for all that matters is beating your opponent … not how you do it. And I will not be easy on you, mistress. I will be very hard, for that is the only way to become skilled.” Si’Cara paused, eyeing the spear. “And it takes years to properly master any weapon.”
“I like you,” Karus said to Si’Cara, and then looked to Amarra, “and I approve. Such training will prove invaluable and likely one day save your life.”
“Yes,” Si’Cara said. “I think so too.”
The cheering had died down. Felix separated himself from the crowd of men and approached. Karus had last seen his friend about an hour before, when Amarra had healed him of his wound and of the sickness. He walked perfectly fine and without the limp Ampelius had thought he might have for the remainder of his days. It seemed, Karus realized with another glance to the spear, the legion would continue to have need of the surgeon’s services.
“Sir.” Felix gave a perfect salute, speaking in a loud tone. It was clear he wanted the men to hear his words. “What are your orders for the legion?”
Karus glanced from the centurion to his men. Though fully restored to health, they looked dirty and ragged, unshaven … nothing like proper soldiers. They stank too, and badly. Still, he loved them just the same, perhaps even more now.
His senior officers were standing about in the crowd, including Pammon, the centurion who had replaced him as senior officer of First Cohort. It was good another friend had survived. He promised himself to never leave the legion again, if he could help it. They were his responsibility and his alone.
“What of discipline?” Flaccus asked, with a glance thrown to Amarra. “For what happened earlier in the palace? That could easily have ended differently.”
“There will be no punishment,” Amarra said, before Karus could speak. Her words were clear and carried just as well as Felix’s had. “The High Father has granted his forgiveness. So too shall we.”
“I agree,” Karus said, after a moment’s consideration. “We will overlook what occurred earlier and speak on it no more.”
The men gave another cheer.
“Well then.” Flaccus cracked his knuckles eagerly. “I think it’s time we got some payback and showed those treacherous bastards in the city the might of Rome.”
“We need to teach them why they should never have crossed us,” Felix said. This was followed by an angry growl from the men.
Karus could not help but agree. He was itching to see it happen, and now that the entire legion had been healed, nothing would stop him. However, he knew something must be done first, and it was fundamental to the identity of the legion.
“Not yet,” Karus said to Flaccus and Felix, his gaze traveling back to the men. He gestured toward them and raised his voice. “You look nothing like proper soldiers. Before we do anything, each of you will shave, bathe, and launder your tunics. This is to be followed by a thorough cleaning of kit. We are legionaries, not barbarian rabble. When we go into battle, we’ll do it right. We are Rome.” Karus paused a heartbeat. “What are we?”
“Rome!” came the unified shout that echoed off the walls and nearest buildings.
Karus swept his gaze around the circle of men. “After you are presentable and pass a full inspection, we will deal with those who feel they can betray Rome’s kindness without recourse. Is that understood?”
> “Yes, sir!” came the massed shout.
Karus clapped his hands together loudly. “Then let’s get to it. Centurions, see to your men.”
Chapter Eleven
“We’ve managed to secure all four gates, sir,” Felix reported as he tapped each one on the map that had been laid out on the main table in Karus’s office. “The walls around each gate have also been taken.” Felix shot Karus an evil grin. “There’s no getting out of the city now, unless someone scales the walls, sir. Given their height, that is a difficult prospect at best.”
Considering the map, Karus placed both palms on the table, feeling the coarse grain of the wood. It was close to noon, and the day outside had grown hot. Karus, Delvaris, Felix, and Flaccus were gathered around the table. During his absence, the office had been used to house the sick. Though it had been cleaned two hours before, the room still stank terribly, even with the windows open. From the doorway that led to his headquarters drifted the low drone of many voices as his administrative staff worked.
“That’s good news,” Karus said after a few silent moments. He was well pleased all four gates had been taken. He’d been concerned that, when they made their move, the refugees would manage to slip out of the city, particularly their leaders. With any luck, they’d now been bottled up, with an escape nearly impossible.
The refugee camp in the city was clearly marked on the map. They had taken a small portion of the south side of the city into their keeping. The streets leading into the camp had been blocked. Flaccus’s report on the enemy’s position indicated it was moderately well fortified.
“Has there been any resistance?” Karus asked, looking up at Felix. Had there been any fighting, he figured he would have heard by now. But Karus had long since learned to take nothing for granted.
“None whatsoever,” Felix said. “As impossible as it sounds, they didn’t even bother posting anyone to watch the gates or the walls. In fact, we don’t even think they had a lookout on the palace gate. It’s entirely possible they were thoroughly unaware we’d marched from the palace, sir … even after we took the gates.”
The First Compact: The Karus Saga (The Karus Saga: Book Book 3) Page 14