“Centurion Bannus and Optio Ipax. Both have proven themselves repeatedly and are not only steady, but patient. I am thinking that training men who do not understand your language will be quite frustrating.”
“Very well,” Karus said, in agreement with Pammon. “I want them permanently detached. Consult their superiors as to who will replace them amongst their own cohorts.”
“What will their ranks be within the First Light Carthum Cohort?” Pammon asked.
“Promote Bannus to Prefect and Ipax to Centurion,” Karus said and then looked back over at the delegation. “Let’s get this bunch settled. I want them isolated tonight. Make sure you place guards and put out patrols. Trust is earned.”
“I agree, sir,” Pammon said.
“Can I tell them that?” Amarra asked.
“Yes,” Karus said. “Please do.”
She began translating.
“Excuse me, sir.”
Karus turned to find a legionary, who saluted. The man’s face was red and he was out of breath, sweating profusely.
“You are wanted at the west gate, sir,” the legionary said and handed over a dispatch.
Karus opened the dispatch. As expected, the formation of strange soldiers had come into view on the west side of the city. They were two miles off. He understood that the dispatch had been written at least half an hour before. The approaching formation would be much closer. He handed the dispatch over to Pammon, who read it.
“It looks like our other friends have arrived,” Pammon said. “Do you want to put on a similar show? Should Dio or Felix’s cohorts march for the west gate?”
Karus gave it a moment’s thought. “No, just cavalry this time. We have one cohort stationed inside the western gate. I am thinking that should be sufficient.”
“I hope so, sir,” Pammon said.
“Very well,” Karus said and turned back Xresex. “I have to go. I will leave you with Centurion Pammon. We will speak later.”
“I look forward to that,” Xresex said.
Karus turned away and walked toward the gate, with Amarra following. He wondered if his next encounter with another people of this world would go as smoothly.
Chapter Three
Karus and Amarra moved through the ordered ranks of legionaries. The men of Fifth Century stepped aside to let them pass. Once through, Karus spotted their commander, Flaccus. He glanced over as Karus stepped up. The centurion offered a crisp salute, which Karus returned.
The first sun had climbed higher up into the sky. The second sun was lazily following. Karus had still not gotten used to the sight of the two suns. It was yet another daily reminder they were on a different world than their own.
The day was growing warm, relieved only by intermittent gusts of a gentle breeze. He had no idea what season it was. Then again, he did not even know if this world had a change in seasons. It was something else to ask Amarra. He would make sure to do so later.
Karus’s gaze shifted from Flaccus to the strange formation of soldiers, around five hundred strong, two hundred yards away. The black-cloaked soldiers had marched to Carthum along the road that led outward from the western gate. Karus knew from Valens’s reports that this paved road traveled westward for a few miles before eventually switching over to dirt. To either side of the road was pastureland. With no animals to graze, the grass had grown long. A few farms and barns dotted the rolling landscape.
With a black standard held proudly to their front, the formation of soldiers waited. They were still in a marching column. Without a cloud in the sky, the suns were bright. Karus held his hand above his eyes to better see. They looked like men, in that they walked on two legs, had two arms and a head. But they were something else. Each was short, standing around chest height for an average man, and stocky.
“By Jupiter’s beard, Karus,” Flaccus said quietly so the men standing just behind them could not overhear. He gestured out to their front with a small jerk of his head, his polished helmet reflecting a flash of sunlight. “What in the gods are they?”
Karus did not immediately respond, for he didn’t know, but continued to study them. With their black cloaks, the formation had a sinister look to it. The strangers wore heavy plate armor that seemed to cover as much of their body as possible. For some reason, they reminded him of great big walking turtles, with their heads sticking out of the shell.
Armed with what appeared to be some form of short spear and sword, they carried large rectangular shields that were almost as tall as they were. Being kitted out as they were, Karus could only imagine how difficult it would be to march long distances under such a burden. Still, based on the reports he had received from his cavalry scouts, this group had made good time. Apparently, they could easily bear the weight and were not much slowed by it.
Just to the rear of the formation waited four large wagons pulled by teams of shaggy teska. The teamsters had dismounted and stood in a small cluster. They appeared to be speaking amongst themselves. These four did not wear armor, but instead just black tunics with brown pants and boots.
“Dvergr,” Amarra said and pointed with the tip her staff. “They be dvergr.”
The tone of disgust in her voice pulled Karus’s attention away from the strange-looking formation. He turned to her as a light gust blew around them. It ruffled her snow-white dress and caused the knee-high grass that crowded both sides of the roadway to sway back and forth until the gust of wind subsided.
Under the light of the two suns, there was almost a radiant glow about her. Her long, black hair had been blown slightly askew and a delicate ear was exposed. She idly reached up and moved several strands of hair out of her face. His breath caught as the moment struck him with surprising force. Then what she said registered.
“What did you call them?” Karus asked. “Dverg … what?”
“Dvergr.” Amarra said the word slowly and glanced over at him. “They no friends.”
“Enemy, then,” Flaccus said. It came out almost as an angry growl. Flaccus’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword as the centurion looked behind them at his century. Karus followed the centurion’s gaze.
Bottoms of their shields resting on the ground before them, Fifth Century waited for orders. Like Dio and Felix’s cohort, Flaccus’s had been reinforced for this demonstration as well. The sickness that was ravaging the legion was taking a serious toll on unit strength. Flaccus’s cohort had also taken heavy casualties in Britannia before the legion had come to this world.
Karus noticed that the men split their gazes from the strangers to their officers and Amarra. There was no warmth there as they gazed upon her. Several glanced away as they saw him looking their way. Karus could only imagine their thoughts.
“No enemy,” Amarra said firmly. She let out what sounded like an unhappy breath and tapped her staff upon the ground for emphasis. “They no friends but to themselves. No trust between my people and them.” She paused and frowned slightly as she struggled to put her thoughts into Roman words. “They do what want, not what we need.”
“They do their own thing?” Karus asked as his eyes fell upon her staff. He sucked in a startled breath. The staff abruptly reminded him of the vision the High Father had shown him. Karus snapped his eyes back to the formation of dvergr.
Was it possible?
He thought it might be. These dvergr looked nearly identical to some of those alien peoples Jupiter had shown him fighting against the Horde on distant worlds.
“Yes, they do own thing,” Amarra said, failing to notice Karus’s reaction. Her eyes had been on the dvergr. She took a half step forward and set the butt of her staff on the stone paving of the road. “They do their own thing.”
“What is it?” Flaccus asked, having noticed Karus’s reaction.
Karus did not answer as his thoughts raced. He was certain these were one of the peoples the High Father had shown him. It could not have been a coincidence. The great god had wanted him to see the dvergr. Otherwise, why bother? Had the High Fathe
r meant for Karus to ally with them? It was an intriguing thought.
“They fight the Horde,” Karus said, looking over at Amarra for confirmation. “Don’t they?”
“Yes,” Amarra said. “They fight Horde, but not with people like us.” She paused, eyeing him warily. “Why you ask?”
Was this the High Father’s will? Or was he just reading too much into the great god’s intentions? Was he coming to the conclusion he badly desired? Karus had known those who had done the same, failing to consider things objectively. The foremost example that came to mind was the Ninth’s late commander, Julionus, who had led the legion unsupported deep into Celtic territory. It had cost the legate his life and a great many others. Karus let out a breath and reminded himself to temper his expectations when it came to allies.
“The enemy of my enemy, then …” Flaccus said, his voice trailing off as he, too, studied the strange soldiers.
“Indeed,” Karus said. “The enemy of my enemy could be my friend.”
“You are thinking they could be allies?” Flaccus asked and stroked his freshly shaved chin with his thumb.
“It’s possible,” Karus said distantly, “but until we speak with them, I won’t know for certain whether we can work toward a common purpose.”
“My people think like you.” Amarra took a step closer to Karus. She caught his arm with her free hand and held it a moment before releasing it. She pointed out at the dvergr formation. “They walk own path. No care for others. No care for us. Understand?”
He nodded and wondered if she was right. It was quite possible that the dvergr did not get along with the peoples of this land. Would they be willing to deal with him, a Roman?
“They sound a little difficult,” Flaccus said.
“Perhaps,” Karus said, his thoughts moving to the armor that had been found along with the cache of stores left in Carthum. It was identical to what he was seeing just two hundred yards off. He now knew with complete certainty who had left them.
“They walk own path,” Amarra repeated.
“And you walk ours,” Karus said, looking into her eyes. “You belong with us now, not those who abandoned you when they quit this city.”
Amarra held his gaze a long moment, her eyes becoming slightly glossy. She swallowed and cleared her throat before replying. “It is as you say. I belong at your side.”
He gave a nod and then returned his attention outward toward the dvergr.
“We are a different animal than those who once lived in Carthum,” Karus said. “We are of Rome.”
Amarra gave him a scowl as she worked out his meaning. Then she shook her head.
“It make no different to dvergr,” Amarra said.
“It makes no difference,” Karus automatically corrected. Having spent long hours teaching her his language, it had become something of an unconscious habit that popped up now and then.
One of the dvergr stepped from the formation. Karus guessed he was an officer. He regarded the Romans for a long moment before swinging about to face his formation. He shouted something that sounded very much like an order. The marching formation dissolved and rapidly reformed itself into a line of battle, five ranks deep. The standard-bearer, black banner fluttering in the wind, positioned himself to the front of the formation. Karus did not recognize the symbol displayed on the standard. But that was not what caught his eye. The movement from marching column to line of battle had been smartly done. It had been an impressive display, one that Karus could well appreciate.
“Disciplined, then,” Flaccus said.
“It seems that way,” Karus said. The dvergr had moved with practiced precision. “If I am any judge, they are likely a professional force.”
“I would like to send for additional men, sir,” Flaccus said, shifting his stance. “Another cohort would make me feel a bit more comfortable, especially if it comes to a fight.”
Karus considered Flaccus’s request. After several heartbeats, he shook his head.
“No, I don’t believe that will be necessary,” Karus said. “We will talk some, threaten each other perhaps, or get along like old retired comrades whiling away the days in a veterans’ colony, but it will not come to fighting. They will go on their way without incident.”
“How can you be so certain?” Flaccus asked. “You and I have fought against barbarians our entire lives. Great gods, you’ve seen the treachery those bastard Celts were capable of when roused. We’re in a strange land with peoples and creatures we know nothing about. We can’t be sure of anything, sir.”
“You’re right,” Karus said. “We can’t be certain of anything. That said, there should be no fight today, especially when they see the surprise waiting for them.”
“Surprise?” Flaccus asked as a scowl slipped over his face. “Karus, what are you talking about?”
“I have our entire cavalry wing hidden just out of view,” Karus said, gesturing at the dvergr formation. “Valens has his orders. Once the parley begins, he will make his presence known. Should it come to trouble, we will have more than enough on hand to deal with that bunch.”
“Yes, sir,” Flaccus said quietly, his tone contemplative. After a moment, he gave a soft grunt as he dislodged a loose stone from the roadway and kicked it with his sandal. The stone skittered off the road and into the tall grass. “Bloody cavalry.”
A second dvergr officer joined the first. They spoke amongst themselves, clearly inspecting the legionary cohort arrayed just outside of the gate and the sentries along the walls. Under the dual suns, Karus was growing hot in his armor. Sweat began to run down his forehead. He wiped it away.
Just as he was growing impatient, the two officers stepped away from their formation and began moving toward them. They came forward without an escort and with an arrogant boldness that Karus found slightly surprising.
“Come on,” Karus said, making a snap decision. He would meet the two dvergr halfway, instead of forcing them to come to him, and he too would do it without an escort. He started forward with Amarra on his right and Flaccus on his left. Both parties stopped five feet apart. They said nothing, studying each other.
Up close, Karus got the impression that under the armor the dvergr were powerfully built. He had examined the armor that had been found amongst the stores in the city and knew it was incredibly heavy. These two before him wore their armor with ease, almost as if it were a second skin. In no way did they seem to be slowed or seriously hindered by the added weight.
Both wore helmets with black crested tops. Since there were no horses in these lands, Karus wondered briefly from what kind of animal they had gotten the long hair for the crests. His gaze traveled back to their armor. As officers, it stood to reason their armor would be of better quality than their subordinates. These two proved no exception to that rule. Their armor appeared to have been made with incredible skill and craftsmanship. Black etchings of strange runes and symbols ran over their chest plates.
Their black cloaks were also quite fine, and richly cut. Karus’s critical gaze took in the frayed and torn edges. This was an indicator and sure sign of extended time spent in the field. His own crimson cloak was just as frayed.
Their faces were almost completely obscured by their beards, which were a dark brown. The beards were tightly braided with black ties and reached down over their armor toward their midriffs. The exposed skin on their faces was browned by the sun. One was clearly older than the other, perhaps middle-aged, though Karus understood he had no point of reference to determine that to be certain. He just seemed older. The skin of his face had more lines and his beard was longer, with strands of gray running through it. He had piercing brown eyes and a squint that gave him the appearance of being irritated.
Both of the dvergrs’ expressions were cold, perhaps even hostile, but at the same time supremely self-assured. The older one placed his hands upon his hips. Despite his diminutive height, his manner screamed of arrogance. He appeared accustomed to getting his way. Karus did not like that, not o
ne bit, for he would most certainly not get his way here and that would prove a bone of contention.
The silence stretched and grew uncomfortable. It was only broken when the older one cracked his knuckles.
“I am Camp Prefect Karus,” he said in Common, deciding to break the ice. He hoped they spoke the tongue Amarra was teaching him.
“I am Torga, of the Rock Breakers Clan.” Torga’s voice was so deep that it almost seemed to boom forth at them. Torga turned slightly and indicated the dvergr to his right. “My son, and second in command, Ontho.”
“Centurion Flaccus and High Priestess Amarra,” Karus said, gesturing to each in turn. He was pleased he remembered her title, though still conscious his Common was rough at best. He had to work on that, for there were times he was certain he used the wrong words. Amarra did not always correct him.
Idly stroking his beard with a hand, Torga eyed Amarra speculatively for a heartbeat. Karus noted the silver ring on Torga’s index finger. It was quite large. He also counted six meaty fingers where a man would have five.
Torga’s gaze returned to Karus and hardened. The beard twitched a little at the corners of his mouth as he gave a partial frown. The hand fell to his side.
“High Priestess of what god?” Torga asked Karus.
“The High Father,” Amarra said firmly, tapping her staff lightly on the stone paving, which made a clacking sound. Under the bright sunlight, her staff looked almost glasslike, with no internal glow whatsoever. Torga paid it no attention, but his eyes narrowed dangerously as his gaze shifted back to Amarra. Karus did not care for his look.
Ontho said something in another language to his father. The tongue sounded quite harsh and guttural. Karus assumed it was their own tongue. Whatever was said caused Torga to scowl deeply. He appeared as if he wanted to say something, then changed his mind and returned his full attention back to Karus.
“Where is Shoega?” Torga asked. It was more a demand than anything else, or perhaps even an accusation.
Karus glanced over at Amarra in question.
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