“Are you serious?” Dio asked, brows drawing closer together. “We have limited supplies as it is, and you want to take in another five thousand hungry mouths? Karus, whatever for?”
“Jupiter said we may find allies in these lands,” Karus said. “There may be some long-term advantage to be gained by accepting them.”
“These are civilians,” Dio said. “They’re not soldiers. By the gods, I don’t see how they can help us. We need more shields and swords, not mouths to feed.”
“I don’t either,” Karus admitted. “However, I want to see them with my own eyes and speak with their leaders. Only then, perhaps, will I know if there can be anything gained from taking them in. If there is none, we send them on their way.”
They fell into an uneasy silence again at that. Karus felt very strongly on this issue and was not about to back down. He wanted to meet these people. It was more than a gut feeling that he should stay until he had. It was almost as if something inside him were urging and encouraging him to remain. The feeling was incredibly hard to put into words, but delaying his departure just seemed like the right thing to do. He did not feel like explaining it to them, either. They would think him crazy, and Karus understood he didn’t need to undermine his position as leader of the legion any further than he had by taking Amarra into his arms.
He had to tread carefully, even around his friends.
“Look, we know we have to quit this city,” Karus said, pointing down at the map. “An enemy is coming with such overwhelming numbers we cannot withstand them by ourselves. We need allies. Jupiter even said so. It is as simple as that. Maybe it starts with this group of refugees. Perhaps it doesn’t. Worst case, we learn a little more about this world.”
“All right, Karus,” Pammon said with a glance at the other two. “You have my support in this.”
“How are the wagons coming?” Karus asked Felix, intentionally changing the subject.
“They’re coming,” Felix said. “Unfortunately, the sickness is hampering production. If it comes time to depart prematurely, we will be leaving a good portion of our food and stores behind.”
“Do you think you can speed up production?” Karus asked hopefully. He knew it was unlikely but felt the need to ask anyway.
“No,” Felix said, “I do not. If anything, due to the sickness production will slow in the coming days.”
“Well,” Karus said, “keep on it. Do the best you can.”
“I will,” Felix said.
“Karus,” Pammon said, “it might be good for you to be seen more by the men. With the sickness, morale is low and rumors abound concerning the orcs, demons, the dragons, and Amarra. The men love you and would be heartened by seeing you more often.”
“And if I fall sick?” Karus asked.
“It’s a risk we have to take,” Pammon said, “especially if we wish to keep the legion from dissolving.”
Karus understood Pammon’s meaning, only too well. Things were rapidly coming to a head and the men were scared. Should discipline fail, all would be lost.
“Soon as we’re done here, I shall take a tour of the city, our defenses, and wagon production,” Karus said. “I will make sure that I am quite visible.”
“Good,” Pammon said with a satisfied nod.
“Next order of business?” Karus asked.
“We received a second report from Valens this morning. He has located a body of soldiers moving our way from the west.” Pammon pulled a dispatch from his tunic pocket. “This came into headquarters just before our meeting. I told Serma I would handle it and share it with you.”
Karus took the dispatch, opened it, and read the contents written by his cavalry wing commander. When he was done, he blew out a long breath.
“Five hundred strong,” Karus said, looking up from the report. He tapped the dispatch with a finger. “Another reason to stay, I think.”
“I thought you might see it that way,” Pammon said with a slightly lopsided smirk.
Karus returned his attention to the dispatch and finished reading it. He handed it off to Felix, who began reading.
“Not human,” Felix exclaimed softly as he read.
“As the report states, they wear what appears to be identical armor to what we found stored here in Carthum with the supplies,” Pammon said. “I believe we’ve discovered the people who left us that convenient store of food.”
“Incredible,” Felix breathed, glancing up from the dispatch. “From what Valens reports, based upon their pace, they should be here around the time the refugees arrive.”
Felix turned back to the dispatch, rereading it.
“Care to wager they will be rather surprised to find us occupying Carthum?” Pammon asked.
“No, I would not take that bet,” Karus said. “I don’t expect them to be pleased, either.”
“You know they will want their supplies back,” Pammon said. “Five hundred seems a rather small number for the quantity of supply they stockpiled here. I wonder where the rest of them are.”
“There is that,” Felix said and handed the dispatch to Dio, who began to read.
“Well,” Karus said, “they’re not getting it back. We need it.”
“And if they are the potential allies Jupiter spoke of?” Felix asked.
“We will just have to cross that bridge when we come to it,” Karus said, feeling terribly troubled. If he had made the wrong decision, he could turn possible friends to enemies. Still, he could not give up the supply cache they’d discovered. He desperately needed it to feed his people.
“Hopefully,” Dio said, “we won’t burn the bridge at the same time.”
“Oh, one other thing,” Pammon said. “One of Valens’s patrols checking out a forest road to the west reported spotting those people in the trees again.”
“The forest?” Felix said with a quick glance over at Karus. “The forest wraiths.”
Karus felt a headache coming on. He well remembered the bodies they had found amongst the trees. He had more worries than seemed right. This was just one more complication he did not need.
Chapter Two
Karus leaned his forearms on the stone of the city wall and clasped his hands together as he looked out beyond the city. Pammon and Amarra stood with him. Below, two hundred yards away from the walls, were the refugees. Valens’s scouts had estimated their number to be around five thousand, but studying them, Karus felt there were more than that. The cavalry scouts had shadowed the group from a distance, careful not to be seen, which had likely led to the discrepancy. He estimated there were perhaps fifty-five hundred people spread out before the east gate.
A delegation from the refugees had broken off from the main group and advanced forward. These stopped around fifty yards from the gate, which was closed. The delegation consisted of three men, one elderly and two middle-aged. The old man wore a gray robe. A long white beard flowed down his chest, and he clutched a rough wooden staff. All three gazed up at the legionaries manning the wall and appeared to be simply waiting.
Karus’s eyes swept beyond them and once again over the refugees, who had grouped together in a great mass. There was no order or uniformity amongst them. There were hundreds of wagons and carts pulled by teska, the strange six-legged oxen-like creatures native to these lands. Most of the refugees were afoot, with women and children mixed in. They were a motley bunch. They had herd animals with them, several hundred sheep and cattle, which trailed a hundred yards behind. Under the supervision of a handful of shepherds, the animals were happily grazing on the grass that had grown long outside of the city walls.
“Well,” Pammon said, also studying the refugees below, “they are a bit ragged-looking.”
Karus had to agree. There was really no telling how far they had come or what they’d been through just to get to Carthum. The thought of the city caused Karus to turn and gaze back upon it. His eyes swept across the jumble of tightly packed buildings, the slums, the wealthier dwellings, the temple district, lingering a mo
ment on the ruin of the High Father’s temple before moving on to the palace and the fortress. Though the legion, auxiliary cohorts, and camp followers occupied the city, much of it was abandoned, just as they’d found it. Carthum was, for all practical purposes, a city of ghosts and only a temporary home until they were able to move on. He glanced over at Pammon before returning his gaze back to the refugees.
“They don’t have the look of being a nomadic people. I would imagine they’ve lost their homes,” Karus said. “Everything they could manage to take with them is there below us.”
“Suffering,” Amarra said in Latin, shaking her head slightly. There was a note of sadness to her tone that drew Karus’s attention. “Horde make life on many hard. So hard, so much suffering and sadness.”
“Undoubtedly,” Pammon said, looking back out on the refugees. “Their hardship may be to our advantage, sir. They have wagons, carts, and food on hooves. We have a great need for it all.”
Again, Karus had to agree with Pammon.
“You take what little they have?” Amarra asked, aghast, looking between them. She shifted her staff from one hand to the other as she glanced from Pammon to Karus. She tilted her head slightly. “You won’t—”
“We are of Rome,” Pammon said to her. “Our survival must come first. We take what we want and need from barbarians like these.”
Amarra’s gaze hardened.
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Karus said quickly, glancing over at her and Pammon before things could worsen between the two of them. He could not afford for Pammon to grow to dislike her. There was too much of that already. “We shall see.”
“Karus, you can’t let them leave and take those wagons and carts with them,” Pammon said. “We don’t know if there will be enough time to produce the transport we need before this Horde you two keep speaking about gets here.”
Amarra rested a hand on his arm, drawing his attention.
“You will help them,” Amarra said, a fiery look in her eyes, “or let them go. Understand me on this?”
Karus was about to reply to that when the sound of thunder drew his attention out beyond the refugees. Several squadrons of Valens’s cavalry galloped into the view. They rode in a column of two and emerged from behind a series of small hills to the refugees’ rear. Traveling on a dirt road, the horses kicked up a light dust cloud as they advanced. Under the midday sun, the tips of the cavalry’s lances glittered brilliantly. Their polished armor flashed as they broke from the column and began forming a line of battle.
Another column of cavalry appeared to the left, riding around the side of the city wall. A moment later, a third column came into view from the other side. These two additional columns of cavalry each formed their own lines and maneuvered until they came together, forming a near box against the city wall, stopping only when they were three hundred yards from the refugees. The maneuvering had been neatly and efficiently handled.
From the refugees there had been a stunned silence at the appearance of the cavalry. Now there arose a great cry of dismay, mixed with panic and general agitation as they realized they were trapped. From the top of the wall, Karus could hear men and women shouting, much screaming and wailing. He could also see swords being drawn. Karus could almost smell the fear on the air. There were no horses in this land, and he understood it was very possible the refugees had never seen mounted soldiers. Valens’s troopers must have appeared very impressive.
Karus’s eyes went to the delegation. They’d not moved but were speaking intently amongst themselves. The old man held out a hand and pointed his staff up at the wall toward Karus. The other two with him stilled, their eyes on Karus, Pammon, and Amarra.
“Is needed?” Amarra asked, clearly put out. “They fear you.”
“It is required,” Karus said, turning to her. She needed to understand why he had done what he had. “I’m going to be treating with whoever’s in charge below and I intend to do so from a position of strength, not weakness.”
“Well, you need to deal with them quickly,” Pammon said. “The other group, the soldiers, should arrive within the hour. I am guessing they will not be so easily impressed as this bunch here.”
Karus silently agreed with Pammon.
“Let’s get this over with, then.” Karus gave a nod. “Pammon, send out the cohorts.”
Pammon looked over to a legionary who was standing nearby with a horn. The man snapped to attention.
“Sound the call for the gate to be opened and the cohorts to march out,” Pammon ordered.
“Yes, sir,” the legionary said and brought his horn to his lips. He blew three long blasts that cut over the cries of fear and panic from the refugees. The horn fell silent and so too did the refugees, clearly wondering what would happen next.
Beneath them, Karus could hear the gates being opened, hinges grinding loudly. Karus moved to the back side of the wall. There below, two cohorts, the Second and Fourth, were drawn up in marching formation. The sickness had taken its toll on both cohorts, and men from other units had been called upon to fill out the ranks. It was a worrying sign. Karus’s eyes first sought out Dio and then Felix. Both centurions stood to the front of their respective cohorts, just ahead of their standard-bearers.
“Forward, march,” Dio shouted. His cohort began moving with the sound of hundreds of sandals crunching in unison. Felix’s cohort started after Dio’s. Karus moved back to the outer side of the wall and looked out upon the refugees. The delegation had drawn back several yards as the Roman heavy infantry began emerging from the city like an armored snake.
Once outside the gate, both cohorts were called to a halt. Officers shouted orders. The marching columns broke up as the cohorts reformed into a line of battle, two ranks deep. Normally they would have four, six, or eight ranks depending upon need, but Karus and Pammon had wanted to impress. So the line was made longer, thinner. To the refugees, the Romans would appear an overwhelming force.
Though the refugees had, from what Karus could see, numerous men of fighting age mixed in amongst them, they would be no match against the Roman infantry and cavalry. By marching the cohorts out after the cavalry, Karus was sending a message. He was making it abundantly clear that any resistance would be futile and a wasted effort. He was also communicating to them that the Romans were not to be trifled with.
“I do believe you’ve made your point,” Pammon said with a chuckle, looking back over the wall.
Amarra shot him a heated look. Her fierceness made her look more beautiful to Karus. He had to drag his eyes from her face. Like a moth to a flame, her bold spirit and inner strength were part of what drew him to her.
“Shall we go down and introduce ourselves?” Karus cleared his throat and looked from Pammon to Amarra. He turned and made his way into the guardroom at the top of the wall and then quickly down the stairs. Amarra and Pammon followed after him. A few moments later, they emerged out from the wall and back into the sunlight. Karus turned toward the gate. He noted several of the sentries who had been posted to the gate eye Amarra warily as they passed. One of the looks was downright hostile. It pissed Karus off, but now was not the time or place to confront such attitudes.
It bothered him to no end that the men viewed her as a witch and a threat. There had to be something he could do to show them she was no danger and, more importantly, someone not to be feared but loved as the representative of Jupiter. Ahead, they found Dio and Felix were waiting where the lines of the two cohorts met. Putting the looks from his mind, he led the way through the gate and out of the city.
A file of men stood just outside the gate, along with the legion’s aquilifer, who carried the Eagle. The gold of the Eagle flashed under the morning sunlight. It was a stirring sight and never failed to lift his heart. Karus gestured to the aquilifer and the men to follow. The file of men and the aquilifer started just after Karus, Pammon, and Amarra had passed them. Karus walked up to Dio and Felix.
To their front, perhaps ten yards away, stood the waiting deleg
ation and, behind them, the frightened refugees. Dio’s expression hardened slightly as he took in Amarra. Felix nodded amiably, first to Karus and then respectfully to Amarra.
“Good job,” Karus said to both of them.
“It was nothing but a bit of marching and showing off, sir,” Felix said and then turned slightly to look at the refugees. “I do believe they’re good and ready for you.”
“Very well,” Karus said and took a moment to look over both cohorts. Drawn up tightly in neatly organized ranks, with shields resting at their feet and javelins held easily, they were a fine sight. He turned his attention back to the refugees. “I will take it from here. Pammon, Amarra, you both are with me. Dio and Felix remain here.”
He stepped out toward the delegation. Amarra, Pammon, the file of men, and the Eagle-bearer followed after.
Karus made his pace intentionally slow so that he could study the men of the delegation as he approached. He noted they were armed with long swords, even the old man with the staff. The swords appeared similar to a spatha.
The older man was clearly in his sixties, or perhaps even his seventies. He wore a robe that had been patched in numerous places. He leaned heavily upon the staff he carried, which was a stout piece of carved wood that looked worn from prolonged use. The old man had an unforgiving look about him, like a hardened warrior well past his prime, angered that age was slowly sapping his strength. He took a step forward and moved with a slight limp, perhaps, Karus thought, from an old wound. The man’s eyes were fixated on Karus, likely doing the same, assessing the other.
Karus’s gaze flicked to the other two. They were in their twenties and wore lightweight, black, studded-leather chest armor. They wore simple brown pants and boots, which had clearly seen better days. Despite Karus’s overwhelming show of military force, all three men had a confident air about them that spoke of being accustomed to leadership. They appeared nervous but not overly panicked. This, Karus thought, was a good sign. It showed their mettle, which was something he could respect.
Karus stopped when he was five feet from the delegation. The aquilifer came to a halt one step behind and to the right of Karus. He planted the legion’s standard in the ground with a soft thud and at an angle, with the Eagle leaning slightly forward and toward the delegation. The file of men took up positions just behind Karus and the Eagle. They held their shields ready, hands on the hilts of their short swords, clearly ready for trouble and to protect Karus should the need come. Karus saw the old man’s eyes flick toward the legionaries before returning to Karus. Amarra stepped up to Karus’s left and Pammon to his right.
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