Byzantium Infected Box Set

by James Mullins

  “We have been trying to locate you since the end of the sand storm. I’ve lost most of my men to these damned things.” He glanced at the pitiful band of remaining Skutatoi and made a mental count. “Doesn’t look like you have done any better. I believe we have enough extra mounts for all of you. Oenomaus has drawn them away with his horn,” Luko turned and signaled to his men.

  Ten members of Luko’s unit came trotting up to the survivors. Each had three rider less horses in tow. Licas and Damon worked to tie Athos to a mount as the rest of the survivors mounted the horses. Once Athos was secured, Damon and Licas mounted up. Damon looked especially nervous. Licas noticed and asked, “What’s wrong Damon?”

  “I’ve never ridden before,” replied Damon.

  “Unless you want to become a midnight snack, today is a good day to learn,” Licas chidded. He took the lead to Athos’ horse and yelled, “Hee-ya!” His horse leaped forward in pursuit of the rest of the unit.

  Damon sighed, made the sign of the cross, and replied to himself. “Right you are. Hee-ya!”

  Chapter 21

  Mid-Day, August 14th 636 Damascus Road, Syria Province, Byzantium

  Athos heard voices, but he could not open his eyes. His world consisted of those voices, throbbing pain in his mind, and a burning sensation. The world seemed to spin and sway back and forth. His mind tried to pursue where those voices were coming from, but he couldn’t seem to catch them. Finally, exhausted, his mind gave up and sank back into oblivion.

  An unknown amount of time later, Athos heard a noise. He couldn’t quite make it out. Was it some kind of animal? He listened for a time to try and figure it out. It sounded kind of like a pig and then finished up with a swoosh sound. He didn’t know what to make of it. The burning sensation had stopped, and he felt cold.

  The world no longer swayed back and forth. He tried to focus on the noise. After a time, his mind was able to sharpen its grasp on consciousness, and he was able to focus. Athos’ mind celebrated in triumph. It was someone snoring! Athos then tried to focus on opening his eyes. The pain he felt earlier came crashing back down upon him, and his awareness slipped away.

  Athos’ awareness returned. He heard a new sound this time. It was a rhythmic clop, clop, clop noise. He tried to focus his mind past the pain to figure out what the noise was. The pain seemed to have diminished considerably. The world once again was swaying back and forth, and the burning feeling was back. He had a new sensation. His tongue felt huge and scratchy in his mouth, I’m thirsty. He tried to move his tongue, and at first, it didn’t answer. Then he felt it move. He ran it over his lips. They felt dried and cracked.

  Athos paused for a moment to celebrate his triumph and relished the return of a sensation other than the pounding pain. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for his next move. He tried to open his eyes. First, the left and then the right eye opened, Something was wrong. Why was the world brown? Was there something wrong with his eyes? He sat there for several moments, trying to ponder what he was looking at. While he was thinking, his nose started working again. The world smelled of horse, sweat, and leather. Then it came to him, He was staring face down at a horse!

  He sat for several minutes unable to move as he tried to rally his body for the next step. As sensation slowly returned, he felt the boiling sun overhead. His armor was still on and was pinching him in several locations. Something, perhaps a rope, was holding him onto the horse. He put all his focus into lifting his head. At first, his neck ignored him, and the headache slammed back into his consciousness.

  This time he was able to fight through the dizziness and regain control. He pushed his chin up against the horse in an attempt to look up. A blinding light filled his eyes, He was blind! Slowly the world came into focus, and he was able to make a shape out on the horizon.

  The shape looked familiar, but Athos couldn’t quite place it. He thought for several moments as the dizziness returned. He mentally asked himself, Where had he seen this shape before? God, please give me strength! With a tremendous force of will Athos was able to bring the shape into focus. “Damascus!” he shouted. The dizziness and pain once again overwhelmed him, and he slipped into blackness. . .

  End of Part I Scourge of Byzantium

  Chapter 22

  Afternoon, August 14th 636 Damascus, Syria Province, Byzantium

  Governor Maurice

  Athos awoke. The pain in his head had lessened into a dull throb. Where am I? Wherever it was, it felt cooler and darker than it had been in days. Steeling himself for intense pain and dizziness, he opened his eyes. He was in a dark room. Streams of light shone through the shutters above his head. It must be daytime.

  Athos looked around the room trying to see into the shadows that pressed in around him. As the focus of his eyes sharpened, he recognized he was in his barracks. The events of the last few days came flooding back into his consciousness. The attack, the fighting, so many of his friends dead, and Nikas. “No!” He cried out suddenly as the pain of so much loss washed over him.

  The door opened, flooding light into the room. Athos looked at the figure in the doorway surrounded by light. What a beautiful apparition. His vision slowly adjusted to the light and focused, “Athea!”

  Athea smiled, set down the bucket she was carrying, and ran to him. Athos tried to sit up but dizziness overcame him. Failing, he collapsed back into the bed as pain came crashing into his consciousness. It struck him and felt like a tidal wave washing over him. He had no control as his body felt like it was being tossed back and forth in swirling waters. Reality seemed to blur and then faded away.

  Athos awoke again. He slowly opened his eyes bracing for pain. It didn’t come. He turned his head and looked around the room. No light streamed in this time. Everything was shrouded in darkness, and he couldn’t see anything.

  The sounds of breathing came from someplace close. Athos tried to locate the source of the sound, but it was too dark. The breathing was softer than he had become accustomed to over the last week. Steeling himself for another wave of queasiness and dizziness he slowly sat up. The room seemed to pitch and sway in his head. He fought down nausea that tried to overcome him. After a while the room stopped moving around as much and settled down to a gentle swaying.

  He sat there for a time remembering the events of the last week. The march to Palestinia Province. The Sea of Galilee, he had never seen so much water in one place before. His mind turned to the image of the bird diving into the sea and plucking out a fish. That bird had cost him a scolding from Nikas.

  The memory of the bird slowly faded away and the bewitched Arab cannibals came into his mind. There were so many. Wait, they weren’t even alive. He cried out again when he thought about losing so many friends. Zosimus, Theron, Illias, and finally Nikas. All gone…

  Athos noticed that the noise he had just made had put a stop to the soft rhythmic breathing. He heard the sound of someone getting up and the noise that bare feet made on stone. The feet were coming toward him.

  “Athos, are you awake?”

  It was Athea! Athos opened his mouth to reply. He heard a faint whisper come out, “Yes.”

  “Athos, lie still you need some water. You haven’t had more than a few drops for days.” Athea retreated, and he could hear the sound of something being dipped into water. She walked over and gently raised his chin up with her hand. Her touch felt so good.

  “Open your mouth.” He complied with the request, and she slowly tipped a cup up until he could feel water on his tongue.

  Athos’ tongue not being used to water anymore recoiled at its touch. Too late he realized what was happening and the water slide down the wrong pipe causing him to choke.

  Athea gently pulled him up and patted him on the back, “Careful love, take it slow.”

  “Sure.” croaked Athos in response.

  “Are you ready to try again? You need to drink to regain your strength.”

  “Yes,” he replied, his voice little more than a whisper. He once again
felt the warm hand touch his face. He opened his mouth and felt the cup pressed against his lips. He took a small sip and swished it around in his mouth for several moments. The dry, cracked feeling of his tongue slowly subsided.

  Athos swallowed the water and sighed contentedly. For the first time, he could smell Athea. Jasmine with a hint of cinnamon. The scent of her sent his heart racing. He looked up at her. The moonlight shining through the shutter over his bed revealed Athea’s face looking down at him. So beautiful. She leaned over him and Athos felt her soft lips touch his forehead in a kiss.

  “I was so worried about you, Athos. You’ve been unconscious for three days according to Baltazar.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “They brought you in this morning. I’m not sure what time it is now. I fell asleep sometime after the sun went down. Ready for another sip?”

  Athos nodded, “Yes.” His voice sounded much less like a croak and more like his usual self. He took a long sip of the water. Over the next few minutes with Athea’s help, he finished the cup of water. Athea crawled onto Athos’ narrow sleeping pallet and put her arm around him. They sat contentedly for a time. Athos laid his head on Athea’s chest, and they fell back to sleep.

  The noise of the barracks door opening woke the couple. Bright light flooded into the room. Constan and Baltazar strode in. Constan looked horrible. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin had a faint red pallor to it, and his left upper arm had a ghastly new scar. The scar was pink and inflamed. It had the look of a burn to it.

  Constan allowed his eyes to adjust for a few moments. Once he could see in the dark room, he turned to the couple and said, “Governor Maurice has summoned the survivors of the 5th Parthica. Those bastard guards of his drug me out of the Lonely Legionnaire this morning and set me about gathering up the lot of you.”

  Athea’s face shifted from a smile at seeing the pair to a frown as she replied, “He can’t even walk yet. Why don’t you have your meeting and just tell him about it later.”

  “Can’t do that, lass. An order is an order.”

  Athos joined in on the conversation, “It's alright, Athea, I’ll go.”

  “You can’t,” she replied.

  “I must, it is my duty,” Athos retorted, a bit sharper than he had intended.

  Defeated, Athea pulled back and sat on her legs with a scowl on her face. Athos sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the sleeping pallet, and rested them on the floor. He felt a bit light headed, but the feeling passed quickly. Athos turned and looked into Athea’s eyes, “I’ll come see you tonight and let you know what this is about.”

  “You had better.” She pointed at Baltazar and Constan, “I didn’t nurse you back to health so these two could get you hurt again.” Athos leaned in and kissed Athea. She responded eagerly to the touch and put her arms around him. They pulled each other close, relishing the embrace.

  “Ahem,” Constan interrupted. “Lad, looks like you have some unfinished business to attend to later. For now, the Governor awaits, let’s go.”

  “Yes, sir,” Athos replied. Athos pecked Athea on the lips one last time and stood up. He felt dizzy and lightheaded.

  Baltazar saw Athos swaying and rushed to his aid, “Take my arm.” Athos took Baltazar’s arm, and this helped to steady him as he paused for several more seconds. His head slowly settled down. Baltazar continued to support Athos as he took a few tentative steps forward.

  Baltazar said, “We saddled your horse. It’s tied up outside.”

  “I have a horse?” Athos asked.

  “Yes, that is how we got you back to Damascus,” Baltazar replied. With Baltazar’s help, Athos took a step outside. He staggered as the light of the sun completely blinded him. He put his free hand up to shade his eyes. Athos’ eyes slowly adjusted to the intense light of the August sun. He noticed off to his right that there was a horse tied to the bench in front of their barracks.

  “Is that my horse?” Athos asked.

  Baltazar replied, “Yes, let me help you over to her.” With Baltazar’s assistance, Athos was able to walk over to the horse, which seemed to pointedly ignore him. After several steps, he drew within reach of the beast.

  Athos placed his hand on the horse’s neck, stroked it gently, and spoke to her, “Hello, horse.” He turned to Baltazar and asked, “What do I do now?”

  Baltazar pointed to the stirrups dangling from the horse’s saddle. “You untie the reins, hold them in your right hand, put your right foot in that stirrup and throw your left leg over the horse.”

  Athos pondered what Baltazar said for several seconds and then replied, “I can barely stand up, I can’t manage that.”

  Constan shook his head and walked over to the pair of friends. “I get shot, and I am bloody well fine. You take one little pop to the head, and ye are helpless for days. How the hell are we ever going to survive this damned plague of the dead with cream puff soldiers like you?”

  Athos grimaced at the rebuke and visibly shrank before Constan. “I’m sorry, lad. I’m beset with frustration at the loss of so many of us and being woken up at this damned ridiculous hour. I believe I have a wee demon pounding on me head with a hammer. Let me give ye a boost.” With Constan’s and Baltazar’s assistance, Athos was able to mount the horse.

  Athos looked down at the pair with a sheepish expression on his face, “What’s next?” Baltazar untied the horse’s reins from the bench and handed them to Athos.

  “You have one rein for each hand. If you want to go left, pull the left one. If you want the horse to go right, pull the right one. Pulling back on both reins at the same time will make the horse stop. To get the horse to move forward tap her sides gently with your feet,” Baltazar explained.

  “Sounds simple enough,” Athos says.

  “It is, you get used to it fairly quickly,” Baltazar replied.

  The group emerged from the fort, Baltazar leading Athos’ horse, and Constan walking beside Baltazar. The Lonely Legionnaire was on their right as they emerged from the fort. The sign hung from a dilapidated structure that looked like it had been there since Damascus’ founding centuries earlier. It slowly creaked back and forth in the warm August breeze.

  Past the tavern was the weapons and armor factory. The structures of the armory filled both sides of the road up to the intersection with Straight Street. The sounds of hammering emerged from the buildings as the trio walked past them. Smoke billowed out of many of the chimneys that dotted the roofs of the various buildings that comprised the armory.

  There were three main buildings in the armory. Each building manufactured a particular class of gear, providing either armor, melee, or missile weapons. At the southern edge of the compound across the road from the theater on Strait Street, was the building where the fletchers made arrows.

  Constan sighed and said, “We are going to need thousands of new kits made here if we are to save Damascus.”

  Baltazar nodded in agreement, “Indeed old man. We need new officers appointed immediately so we can reform the 5th Parthica before those damn creatures get here.”

  Emerging onto Straight Street, they turned left toward the Governor’s palace. The palace was a two-story whitewashed villa in the heart of Damascus. It had a balcony on the 2nd floor that faced the Forum. The Forum was across Straight Street from the Palace. During special occasions, Governor Maurice would address citizens gathered in the forum from that balcony.

  The trio arrived at the entrance to the palace, a large oak door. Constan and Baltazar helped Athos dismount from the horse. Constan wrapped her reins to the post to the left of the door. Several horses had already been tied to the post. “Governor Maurice must have lots of company,” observed Constan.

  Across the street were the other surviving members of Constan’s Kontoubernion. Licas, Damon, and Jirair. They looked like they were enjoying the various stages of a post drinking binge hangover. The group crossed the street and joined the three friends in front of the Governor’s villa.

 
Constan spoke, “Let’s get this over with, lads. I have no idea why the governor would want to speak with all of us.” Constan sighed deeply and pounded on the oak door. On the door was a small wooden square covering up an opening.

  The wooden square slid to the side and a voice emerged from the opening and asked, “What is your business here?”

  Constan replied, “Survivors of the 5th Parthica to meet with the Governor as requested.” The opening abruptly shut, and the group heard the sound of the bar being lifted from the door. The door opened, and they felt cool air with a hint of humidity emerge from the palace. “Humidity, odd, especially for this time of year,” Constan remarked. Athos smelled the dampness. He took a deep breath and relished the feel of it.

  The six of them were led through a richly appointed hallway. The floor was covered in mosaics depicting various scenes of battle. Romans wearing armor and weapons from a time long ago were depicted in battles against Parthians. Then a series of mosaics detailing Rome against soldiers they didn’t recognize. Maybe Babylonians or Egyptians? None of them could identify the soldiers fighting against Rome.

  The servant that had let them in saw the confused looks upon their faces and said, “They are the soldiers of Mithridates the Great of Pontus.”

  The walls in the hallway were white with evenly spaced alcoves set in the two them. In each of the alcoves sat a bust of a former governor of Syria. The hallway ended in another oak door. The servant opened the door and gestured for them to come. The servant pointed at the courtyard on the other side of the open door and said, “You are expected, gentlemen.”

  They emerged into the courtyard and gasped. A large fountain sat in the middle of the open space. Water flowed from a finely sculpted statue of a nude woman. She was standing and looking up at the sky. The water emerged from her mouth, flowed down between her ample breasts, down her torso over her navel, and finally into the pool where she stood. The pool fed several little ditches that kept the vegetation in the courtyard moist with water. The edges of the enclosure were covered in lush vegetation.