“What happens now?” Julius asked Numarius. The two men, one a leader of Rome and one barely an adult, stood watching the Gauls being lifted into the air on their crosses, listening to their pitiful screams.
“Now we leave these people to their own private Hades,” the legate stated dispassionately.
“Won’t we take any of them with us?”
“No,” he replied. “I can’t trust the men, and the women are too weak to travel anywhere. Emperor Otho has ordered us back into Italy, and we will barely get there in time to meet him if we set off right away. I will not wait any longer. We pack up and leave at first light, cross the Alps and be in Italy soon.”
Julius nodded, looking back at the Gauls who were suffering now for what they had done. The journey had achieved nothing for their cause. They had moved from dead town to burned village and they had found almost nobody to add to their ranks. They had set off to rally an army and discovered that the world had emptied. They had to hope that the gods had been kinder to the other cohorts who had set off on similar missions.
Ahead, the road led first to Otho, and then to Rome. There they would fight a battle to give the people hope. They would try to take back the greatest of cities to begin building again, or they would simply be wiped away. Had the time of men come to an end, had the greatest of all nations also been the last. The undead had built an empire to rival Rome and it had taken them what? Months? Weeks? Days?
This all seemed like so much folly, but they would keep fighting. They would fight because men like Numarius led them to the war. They were the best of them, the strongest of them, and they were the last hope of mankind.
Chapter Twenty One
“Tell me again why we are doing this, sir?” Gallus asked Vitus.
The two men were crouching behind a large rock, damp seeping into their clothes. The rain had been falling steadily all day and it carried with it a biting chill. The sky was iron grey and a knee-high mist covered the grasslands for as far as they could see.
No more than thirty yards away a group of Risen was making its way up the road, heading north. No, that wasn’t quite true, they were marching north, not quite in formation but they kept time with each other.
There was a direction and a purpose to their walk, as if they had somewhere to go. Risen with no prey to kill wandered. They moved aimlessly until life, and the chance to end it, caught their attention. These undead moved as if they had a destination in mind, as if something or someone was drawing them to a certain place.
“I had to see this with my own eyes,” Vitus answered, incredulous at what they were witnessing.
The big legionary turned and lay his back against the rock. He looked out over the mist covered countryside.
“Why didn’t we see this before?”
“I’ve been thinking about that, and perhaps it was because we were moving in the same direction as them.”
“That makes sense,” Gallus answered and turned back to look at the road. “I wonder if they are doing this everywhere.”
“That we just can’t know. The only thing I’m certain of is where they are going,” Vitus spoke quietly, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of them.
“The same place that we are?”
“I’d stake my life on it,” he answered and his big friend turned to face him, looking serious.
“Let’s not allow it to come to that.”
They were talking low, but it was enough to cover the sound of a Risen coming up behind them. Hidden from their view, he was low to the ground and the mist covered him until he was close enough to touch them.
He was missing both of his legs and was dragging the rest of his living corpse along using his hands, the long ropes of his bowels trailing out behind him like seaweed on a rocky beach. His hands had been worn down to stumps, the fingers gone, snapped and ground down by the action of dragging himself along. He had an ear missing. It had been torn from his head along with a swatch of skin and the wound stretched across the back of his head and down his neck, showing his spine. As he moved, his head swayed from side to side and they could see the joints grinding.
He did not attack them. They planted their backs against the rock and prepared to fight but he did not even turn in their direction. He glanced at them briefly, his eyes taking them in and then dismissing them almost in the same instant. On his revolting face was a look of determination, as if eternal hunger had been replaced with the need to get to his destination.
The two men watched him go, silent horror etched on both of their faces. He slid by leaving a trail of slick, black blood behind him. Vitus let out the breath he had not known he was holding as the Risen disappeared in to the mist.
“Fuck!” Gallus sighed the word almost silently.
“I thought the gods had damned us that time,” Vitus whispered, his face white from shock and fear.
“Might I suggest we get ourselves out of here?” his big friend was looking back along the grassy plain to where the new fort stood, engulfing the villa. He saw something in the centurion's face that told him that they were not going back just yet, however.
“Wait there, I need to know something, I have to check, just a moment,” Vitus got to his knees and quietly drew his sword. Gallus watched him stand and move toward the crawling horror that had just passed them.
Vitus stepped past the creature and raised the hilt of his sword to chest height, blade toward the floor. He looked like the heroes of Greek legend, ready to slay a lion or a mythical creature instead of the abomination that approached his feet. He stood still, waiting for the Risen to reach him.
Holding steady but muscles tense, ready to strike, he waited. The moving corpse reached him and crawled around his legs. If it had been walking it might have used its hands to casually swipe him out of the way, but it had no interest other than its destination.
Vitus placed a foot on its back as it passed, sword still ready for attack and the undead monster's progress was halted. Its chin hit the ground, scraping loose skin from its face, and still it did not attack.
Gallus watched in silent horror as Vitus hacked one arm from the crawling hideousness and the undead thing did not react, instead it continued to try to crawl using just the one remaining arm. Finally, Vitus ended its unnatural life with a quick blow to the back of the head.
Gallus stood up, and joined the centurion. They both looked down at the torn and battered pulp that had once, in another life, been a person, and it had ripped itself to pieces in order to get where it was going. Something or someone had drawn it north, it had done everything in its power to obey the call.
“Now we can go back,” he said to his companion. On the road, two Risen walked side by side, heading north as with all the rest. They paid the two Romans no more notice than the creature at the centurion's feet had done. The two men turned away and headed back toward the villa.
Regulus sat on the wall of the new fort and at his back the house and its grounds were alive with people doing the thousand jobs that went into the running of a legionary camp, with the added work that was needed on the property itself.
When they went away they had left an overseer in charge. Regulus had spent time asking after the man and his team but nobody knew of his whereabouts, and the villa had been empty when the legions had arrived.
The harvest was ready, the fields heavy with the produce that had been planted before the Risen had appeared and reduced the estate to the lifeless husk the army had found.
Now Bactus sent the men out in work parties. The more crops that could be collected, the easier the winter would be for all of them. Ten men to gather the food, ten to guard them. However, since the change in behaviour of the Risen the teams had almost all turned to work, leaving just one man as a lookout.
Regulus paid scant attention to the people in the fields, however. His mind was drawn north looking into the misty distance, as if he could see the pine forest and the hut that lay within it.
Towards the horizon the road cut a
hard line against the green and grey of the surrounding fields, and he watched as a group of Risen lumbered north, joining the ever growing exodus of the undead.
An arm snaked around his waist and Regulus felt Lucia’s warm breath on the back of his neck. He leaned back against her and she kissed him behind his ear, a low purr escaping her lips.
“You look deep in thought, want to share?” she asked him.
He said nothing for a moment, enjoying the feel of her holding him. Then he turned in her arms and kissed her gently. She must have seen the worry etched on his face because her smile turned to a frown.
“What’s troubling you?” she asked.
“I can’t feel it anymore. The pull, the feeling that was drawing me to the temple is almost gone,” he sighed dejectedly.
“Almost gone?”
“It’s still there but it feels so dim, so...I can’t think of the word. It’s like I’ve been hearing someone call for help, then all of a sudden they are whispering from behind a locked door. There have been times in the last few weeks when I could hardly resist running toward the temple. I felt such a need to get there, now I can barely feel it at all.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. You’ve looked so unhappy recently. Like you’ve been carrying such a burden. Maybe all this is over, the Risen have stopped attacking and you aren’t suffering anymore.” Lucia looked hopeful but he could see that even as she said all this, she didn’t believe it.
“I wish it were true, my love. I wish I could just decide that none of this mattered. I wish that the gods had decided it was all just a joke and that I was just being foolish. The harder I think about it, the more I think that it’s imperative to get where I’m going.”
“Where we are going,” she interrupted him.
“Yes, where we are going. I feel like this is all a disguise or a ploy to defeat us all for good.” Regulus looked back out over the misty Germanian countryside then back at Lucia. Her eyes were so full of care and concern, and it almost hurt him to see it. She had no guile, no mistrust, so it made what he would do to her all the more painful.
She stepped away from him, taking his hand and pulling him with her and they left the wall as she led him toward the villa.
Few marked them as they passed; there were too many things to do, too much to occupy the minds and hands of the legions. Rosa saw them and she smiled to see the young lovers. The world was too devoid of love to do anything else. She watched the beautiful girl lead her man across the camp. She had watched her grow from babyhood, and was proud of the woman she had now become.
Lucia led Regulus to the room in which she had spent her childhood, where she had dreamed of the life she would lead when she became a woman, and about the man she would marry, the places she would see, the children she would one day have.
None of those dreams had become realities; how often do they? Her life, like the world around them had changed. She mourned for the life she had lost, the dreams that were now ashes, but she loved the life she now had. Not the death and the danger, but the love and friends she was surrounded by.
Regulus said nothing as she slipped out of her tunic and put her arms around his neck. He looked into her eyes and waited for her. There was a heat between them as she reached up to the drawstring and loosed his own tunic.
The room was dark, the shutters were drawn and no lamp lit their love making. They were eager but gentle and kisses followed kisses as they drank each other in, the touch, the scent and the life of one another. Their youthful bodies bore scars but young fingers made them soft, reading the stories that each told. Each breath she gave him was returned on his next exhale.
They rested afterward, first breathing hard as they lay back on the bed, then holding each other against the pain of the world. Their bodies intertwined, coiled into one. Finally, sleep overtook them both, a blissful oblivion that took all care from them.
* * *
Although the sun had not dropped below the horizon when she fell asleep, it was the first light of morning that woke Lucia from her slumber. She lay still, wanting to delay the first movement for as long as she could. A warm cloak of comfort wrapped her, memories of the night before no more than a soft glow.
Eventually she succumbed to the inevitable and rolled over to the edge of the bed. Her bladder would be the master of her fate until she could relieve herself of its demands. She looked over to the space that Regulus had vacated, smiling that he had left her to sleep. He had never been one to sleep past sunrise, whereas she was someone who loved her bed like a best friend.
After nature's call had been answered, Lucia splashed a little water onto her face, marvelling at the luxury of water that wasn’t for drinking. Life on the road had taught her harsh lessons about the preciousness of such things.
Picking her tunic up from the floor, Lucia slipped it over her head and let it fall around her. Rosa had frowned at her attire but she had explained that such things as dresses were useless when fighting and besides, she had never liked the wretched things and saw the freedom to wear men’s clothes as one of the best things about this new world.
She noted that Regulus’s pack was missing from the corner of the room, and a flutter of unease unsettled her stomach as she tried to think what might have made him take it. There had been a broken buckle on one of the straps and she wondered if he had taken it to be repaired.
The sun glinted off the corner of her eye as she moved past the shuttered window to Regulus’ side of the room. A dark, wooden chest sat in the corner and she had watched him unpack his belongings into it when they had arrived. She lifted the lid holding her breath, knowing she would not like what she saw inside.
Her spirits sank as she saw the chest was empty. All of Regulus’ clothes and belongings were gone, he’d left nothing behind. Lucia’s face began to prickle with panic, her stomach fluttered again and her heart gave one heavy thud in her chest. She scanned the room for a note or any clue as to where he had gone, but she already knew.
Sitting back heavily onto the bed Lucia felt tears forming in her eyes. A wash of sorrow flooded over her, in its wake anger pulled her back to the edge of the bed. She grabbed at her boots, pulling them on roughly. She would not let him do this, he had promised her that he wouldn’t. She ran from the room and down the corridors to the front door.
The camp was waking, small fires burned in braziers outside the legionaries' tents, smoke and steam mingled with the crisp morning air. She ran to the main gate of the camp, feeling eyes follow her, knowing they must see her tears. The anger was subsiding again, replaced once more by panic. Such a whirl of emotions.
She reached the gate, almost sliding to a halt on the gravel driveway where a guard watched her impassively, not reacting to her manner or the way she looked. He waited for her to catch her breath, leaning against his Pilum. He was almost the same age as her father had been.
“Has Regulus come through this way?” she blurted out without preamble.
The guard looked a little shocked at her manner but answered, “Sorry miss, I don’t know who that is.”
“A boy about the same age as me, used to be an archer. Wears a hooded cloak. He would have been carrying a pack,” Lucia said, feeling the frustration rise.
“I’m sorry, miss, I haven’t seen anyone like that,” the guard said, shaking his head beneath his helmet.
“How long have you been on guard?”
“I’m almost finished, I’ve been on all night,” he said shrugging. “Have you tried the north gate?”
“North gate? I didn’t know there was more than one, thank you.”
Lucia was already running before she finished speaking. She felt her feet carry her across the camp, seeing the unfamiliar people and tents filling the familiar spaces of her childhood. A legionary stepped out of a tent stretching on the spot where she had once taught her childhood dog to sit and beg for treats.
Running as she was, she almost didn’t see Vitus as he stepped out in front of her. He had his arms ou
t to catch her and she almost fell into them.
“Hey, slow down. What’s so urgent?” he asked her, stepping back with his hands still on her shoulders. He must have seen the distress on her face as a frown crossed his own.
“It's Regulus, I think he’s gone without us,” she said, voicing her fear for the first time. She saw in his expression that he wasn’t surprised by the news.
“I thought he might,” the legionary said. He gritted his teeth in frustration and pulled her to him, holding her in her distress.
“We are going to go after him, aren’t we?” Lucia asked, her voice muffled as she pressed herself to his chest.
“We all are,” he answered, his voice tender.
Lucia stepped back, looking puzzled, “What do you mean?”
Vitus smiled, “I told our story to Bactus last night. We decided that hiding here just wasn’t enough. He’s going to order a number of the men north, today. We are going to follow Regulus and see what we can do to help him.”
“But that could take hours, we don’t know how long he’s been gone!” Lucia felt panic begin to rise in her once more.
“I’ll send scouts after him, straight away. We aren’t moving camp, we are leaving some of the men here and the rest will be ready to march not long after Bactus gives the order. Regulus doesn’t move fast, you know that. We might not reach him straight away but we will catch him.”
She looked into Vitus’s eyes and saw that he believed what he was saying. Impatience ate at her in her eagerness to run from the camp to find Regulus. She felt all of the fears she had carried with her from Rome come crashing down on her. Tears welled up once more and she stepped back into Vitus's arms. She began to cry and felt like she would never stop.
Chapter Twenty Two
Secundus looked down onto the floor of the huge arena from atop the vast empty stands. The moon gave everything a silvery edge and the city looked like something from a dream. The trap was set, now all they would need would be the blessing of every god of which he had ever heard. Weeks of work had gone into building this and nobody knew if it would be worth the effort, or the danger. Beside him was the equipment he would need to spring the trap.
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