Byzantium Infected Box Set

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Byzantium Infected Box Set Page 48

by James Mullins


  What was the significance of that utterance? Could that sound be her? She ran the images in her mind over and over, and they each shared the same characteristics. Whenever someone in the images looked at her, they said, “Fonda.” She searched her mind trying to discern the significance of that sound. As she did so, more and more pathways opened up revealing more images, and more sounds.

  There was a significance to those sounds. They weren’t random noise, they were words. If the sounds were words then what is Fonda? Fonda is a name, “I have a name!” she shouted. Excited she yelled out loud, “I am Fonda!”

  Chapter 33

  Early Morning, August 22th 636, Road East of Sigoph, Palestinia Province, Byzantium

  Fonda

  Baltazar led his guardsmen in a fighting withdrawal ever westward toward the city of Sigoph. One by one his men fell to the relentless assault of the damned. Luckily for them, the road continued to narrow as they wound their way through the hills. This enabled them to close ranks when one of their fallen comrades became a feast for the horde.

  As they drew closer to Sigoph, one of the cliffs that bordered the road suddenly dropped away into a deep valley. The cliff on the other side grew ever taller as it loomed over the road. Jaco’s men, the drivers, and many of the guardsmen had fallen until there were just a handful of the guardsmen left: Lael, Rafal, Rinor, Liam, Sarmatus, and Baltazar. Nasir, Maarika, and the crazed Legion had simply vanished.

  Baltazar wasn’t sure if the missing trio had disappeared down a throat of the undead or had simply seen the writing on the wall and fled. He hadn’t seen any of the three fall in battle, but things had gotten crazy when they were being attacked from both sides, “I sure hope they made it.” Baltazar said. He didn’t realize he had voiced his thought out loud.

  In between kills, Lael asked, “Who made it?”

  Baltazar replied, “Nasir, Maarika, and Legion.”

  Sarmatus responded from Baltazar’s other side, “We could really use Legion right now.”

  Liam, on Sarmatus’ other side in the line, nodded in agreement, “Aye. If that bugger were here screaming and carrying on, we could make our escape.”

  Liam’s statement was met with silence as each man turned inward to their thoughts. Would I sacrifice someone else to save myself? Baltazar pondered. He thought back to his training and then the battle of Yarmouk. How he and Athos stood as one against the horde. Many of his brothers could have broken and ran to save themselves. None did.

  This thought caused a burning in Baltazar’s chest. The burning churned, frothed, and raged. Finally, it erupted, “We do not abandon our brothers to the darkness!” Channeling the rage, he tore into the teeming hordes arrayed before them. In between their kills, his men watched in awe as he slew dozens of the damned in a span of minutes.

  No matter how fast he slew them, there was always another to replace the fallen. They faced undead perversions of people from all walks of life in the Roman World: nobles, priests, soldiers, merchants, artisans, courtesans, shepherds, tanners, bakers, and fishermen to name a few. All had the curse of the damned making them as one in their desire to feast on the flesh of the living.

  Fonda watched the leader of the meals. No wait, that wasn’t the right term. Her mind grasped for a better name for her adversaries. Her body tried to override the power of her thoughts with constant hunger. At the same time, her heart raged with jealousy. The man yet lived. He could breathe, blood coursed through his veins, and his heart still pumped blood through his living flesh.

  The jealousy and gnawing hunger threatened to overwhelm her mind. Unlike the other damned, the growing strength of Fonda’s mind swept aside these powerful feelings, “Enough!”

  Baltazar pushed the unfortunate he was engaged with backward with his shield and ended its unholy existence. Pausing to take a breath, his ears registered a word. It came from the damned, “Impossible!”

  At that moment his eyes met Fonda’s. She leered back at him from several ranks deep in the horde, “No, not impossible!”

  Baltazar stood there, stunned. His mind tried to process the impossibility that his senses had just registered, “Did one of them just talk?”

  Lael responded, “Did who talk?”

  Baltazar pushed another of the damned back with his shield and slew it with his Spatha, “That female several rows back. I swear to God she just replied to me.”

  Lael stopped, and turned to face Baltazar with an incredulous expression on his face, “She spoke?”

  It was the last decision Lael ever made. A large male, outfitted in the armor of an Imperial Tagmata, slammed into him. Completely surprised he fell to the ground. The large damned ripped his helmet off and bit down on his nose. Jerking its head back the damned ripped his nose off causing a spray of blood to erupt from Lael’s face.

  Lael screamed in agony and tried to push the nightmare off of him. With Lael’s blood running down his chin the infected Skutatoi swallowed hard. The unholy minion of Satan paused and smiled down at Lael. Bits of meat were caught in its bloody teeth completing the nightmarish visage.

  Lael was gazing up at his killer when a Spatha emerged from the damned’s mouth. Sarmatus loomed over him. In the next instant, Lael’s rescuer became a feast as well. A small boy leaped on his back and sank its yellow teeth into Sarmatus’ exposed shoulder.

  Sarmatus screamed in agony as the undead child tore at his flesh. He reached behind and plucked the child off of his back with his right hand. He held the youth over his head. Their eyes met for an instant, and Sarmatus gazed upon his future. This revelation enraged him, and he flung the child on the ground. He then smashed the boy’s head with his sandaled foot.

  Baltazar gazed upon the scene in horror. As he met Lael’s eyes, Lael begged, “Kill us.”

  Baltazar stood numbly as chaos swirled around him. Finally acknowledging Lael’s request with a nod, he raises his Spatha to stab downward into Lael’s head. Before he could strike, he was tackled from behind and fell forward. He landed on Lael and their eyes locked for one precious moment.

  In the next moment, Lael’s eyes dulled to a milky white color, and he let out a moan. Baltazar’s arms were pinned between Lael and whatever damned was on his back. Lael tried to bite at Baltazar’s face, but the nose guard on his metal helm saved him.

  Baltazar turned to see what was on his back. Liam’s undead gaze met his. Shocked, he rolled to his right to escape the damned sandwich he was in. As he did so, he slammed into Sarmatus’ legs. This caused Sarmatus to fall forward and land on Lael and Liam as they both struggled to stand. All three of the newly transitioned guardsmen toppled to the ground in a heap.

  Another member of the horde rushed Baltazar’s exposed back. The tattered robes of a monk adorned its desiccated frame. His beard was stringy and filled with small bits of previous meals. Inexplicably, the former monk toppled to the ground dead. Baltazar turned his focus back to his three fallen guardsmen. All were intent on making him their first meal of living flesh.

  Baltazar smashed Liam in the face with his shield as Sarmatus growled at him and lunged. He ducked under the lunge and stuck his foot out. Sarmatus tripped over Baltazar’s foot and was sent sprawling with both Liam and Sarmatus neutralized for a moment Baltazar plunged his Spatha into Lael’s forehead. He then turned and severed Liam’s head with a clean swing.

  Sarmatus had recovered and was now charging Baltazar’s left side. He brought his shield up just in time to block Sarmatus. Sarmatus crashed into the shield with a clang and cried out in frustration over his denied meal. Baltazar brought his Spatha down into Sarmatus’ head splitting his skull.

  As Sarmatus collapsed in a heap, Baltazar looked around, he was alone among the living in a sea of the dead. Scores of the damned feasted on the flesh of his fallen guardsmen. Stunned by the loss, he thought about ending his existence before he was consumed alive. It was in this moment of utter despair that an image of Liana flashed into his mind, “I must survive.”

  With a renewed se
nse of purpose, Baltazar took off running up the road, trying to escape the horde. Several of the damned leaped over their feasting comrades and pursued him. Inexplicably, as they ran several of them crashed to the ground dead. As he ran, he stole a glance over his shoulder. Despite the unknown benefactor thinning out his pursuers several damned continued to close in.

  Baltazar sprinted around a bend in the road and turned to meet his two closest pursuers. He was hoping to buy himself a few moments of time to catch his breath. As the first of the pursuing damned rounded the bend, he blocked it with his shield and severed its head with a quick strike.

  As the abomination fell, he pushed it into the second one with his shield. This creature for some unfathomable reason was completely naked. Luckily it stumbled head first into the ground. Baltazar dispatched it by crushing its head with his sandaled foot.

  Baltazar took off in a sprint again. He was able to get about fifty feet before several more of the damned rounded the bend. As they did so, several of them dropped to the ground dead. The pursuing horde was so thick now that many of these casualties were held up and carried along with the horde.

  Some, both dead and undead, were pushed off the road. These unfortunates tumbled down the cliff meeting their end on the side of a boulder. Those few lucky enough to make it all the way to the bottom clawed desperately at the side of the cliff wall to try and make it back to their meal.

  Baltazar’s breath was coming in ragged gasps as he ran. He had been running now for close to twenty minutes in full armor. Exhausted he knew that he would have to turn and fight soon while he still had enough energy to do so. Ahead of him, a rock formation jutted out into the road from the sheer wall of the cliff bordering it, That would be a good position to make my stand. The rocks will provide my flank with some cover while I fight.

  Baltazar made it to the rock formation and whirled around to face the oncoming horde. He presented them with his left side to give them as little target as possible. Holding up his shield, he blocked the first of the unholy apparitions as it crashed into it. He dispatched it with a quick thrust of his Spatha, No sense in wasting energy on fancy swordplay.

  As the first damned fell away it was instantly replaced by another, then another, and yet another. This went on for several minutes as Baltazar fought desperately to preserve his life in the faint hope that he would run out of opponents and survive to see Liana. As he fought he noticed one of the damned, maybe ten feet from him, would not advance. She merely stood and watched as he slew countless numbers of her horde.

  Baltazar’s mind focused on dispatching his damned attackers, but there was a slight itch in the back of it, Doesn’t she seem familiar? Then it struck him, “You’re the one that talks!”

  Their eyes met, Fonda smiled, “Indeed.” She raised her arms and gestured to the frothing mass of the damned around her, “These are all my children now. I will lead them to rip the flesh from every one of you that yet lives. There will be nowhere you can run. Nowhere you can hide. Your walls will not protect you, your armies cannot stop us, your horses will not be able to carry you away fast enough. Fleeing across the Middle Sea will not save you. Even your pathetic God cannot stop us.”

  At that moment Baltazar knew he was going to die. In the ensuing seconds, he slew two of the damned and then replied to Fonda, “That’s where you are wrong, you unholy bitch. With God in our hearts, evil such as you will not triumph. Though you slay me today and kill more of us tomorrow, we will find a way to end all of you.”

  Fonda cackled in delight, “It will be all the more precious when I feast upon those that you love.” She gestured back in the direction of Yarmouk, “Judging by the unit markings of your many fallen comrades you hail from Syria.”

  Baltazar fell silent and ignored Fonda as he fought for the right to survive for a few more seconds. Fonda laughed again. This time her laughter sounded like a cross between a woman crying out in agony and a harpy, “Your silence tells me everything. I bring my horde to Syria and feast upon all. First Damascus, then Palmyra, and finally Aleppo. Not one survivor will be left.”

  Baltazar was frantic inside, God, what can I do? Trying his best to seem uncaring he responded, “Like I care. Go to Syria if you wish. The 5th Parthica is more than ready to put an end to you and your pathetic horde.”

  “Pathetic are we? Interesting, it seems our pathetic little horde was more than enough to kill every last one of you.” Fonda replied.

  Enraged, Baltazar attacked the horde with reckless abandon. He slew damned after damned, but it didn’t matter. No matter how fast he killed them, there was always another to take the place of the fallen. As the bodies piled up around him, he was forced to stand on them to fight. As the corpses piled up beneath him, he gained the advantage of height over the horde.

  Baltazar, his arm now heavy with the fatigue of over an hour of furious fighting thought to himself, It’s a shame there is no one here to see this. Like the Ironman’s stand, I would become the thing of legends. He chuckled to himself as he thought about the opening line of his story, With nowhere to stand but upon the slain bodies of his enemies, he fought on throughout the night. What a pity I will die here tonight with my story untold.

  As he finished his thought, he felt something slap him on the shoulder. In between kills he stole a glance and saw that it was a rope suspended in the air. After slaying another damned, he looked up and saw that the rope went all the way up the cliff face and disappeared into the darkness above.

  “What the fuck?” Baltazar asked.

  “Grab on, and we will lift you out of there,” Nasir responded.

  A giant damned in the armor of a Skutatoi from the 5th Parthica crashed into Baltazar’s shield. He took an involuntary step back. Baltazar’s exhaustion made the beastly apparition fade in and out of focus. Something was very familiar about this creature.

  Baltazar had to put that thought on hold and concentrate on surviving the next moment. He raised his shield to keep the large damned at bay and struck with his Spatha against another. The Spatha thrust entered through the nasal cavity and put a permanent end to the receiving damned.

  Baltazar was too late in returning his attention back to the large damned that his shield was barely keeping at bay. With a brutal howl of triumph the giant creature pushed into his shield and caused him to take another step backward. The creature pounded on the thin layer of protection separating the two combatants and continued howling in rage. This pushed Baltazar up against the cliff. His Spatha arm was pressed up against the unyielding cliff unable to move.

  Baltazar looked up into the eyes of the damned that was going to kill him. The thing had a large hole in its forehead, Maybe from an ax? Then it dawned on him. The broad shoulders the stringy red-blond hair, despite the decay and leathery skin he recognized this damned, “Theron!” he yelled out in shock, “I thought I killed you!”

  Baltazar laughed at the irony of the situation, “I’m going to be slain by a friend I failed to put out of his misery at Yarmouk. God has a wicked sense of humor, or is it Satan?”

  Nasir observed Baltazar’s predicament on the road below. Both he and Maarika stood at the edge of the cliff face, “How can we help him?” Nasir wondered.

  “If he can get that big creature’s helm off I can kill it and then his arms will be momentarily freed so we can lift him out of there,” Maarika replied.

  Nasir nodded in response and yelled down to Baltazar, “Knock the helmet off that big fucker if you can, and we’ll take him out. When he falls grab the rope, and we’ll pull you out of there.”

  Baltazar’s foggy mind heard Nasir’s words. His left arm was pinned underneath his shield which was just barely keeping Theron at bay. His right arm, still holding his Spatha, was pushed up against the side of the cliff. Neither arm was able to move.

  Theron roared, and head butted Baltazar over the top of his shield. The two helms came together with a loud clang noise, and Baltazar’s ears rang from the impact. This noise caused the other damned be
hind Theron, unable to reach Baltazar, to moan in frustration.

  The blow caused Baltazar’s vision to sway and bounce about. For several moments he forgot where he was and lost himself in a daydream about Liana, So beautiful, he thought to himself as he smiled. Theron brought him back to reality with a mighty roar into his face. Theron’s teeth clicked as he opened and closed his mouth just an inch away from Baltazar’s face. His putrid breath assailed Baltazar’s nostrils. Stifling the urge to vomit Baltazar’s thoughts snapped back to reality.

  Baltazar released his grip on his Spatha and tried to pull his arm free from the cliff. It wouldn’t budge. He cursed in frustration under his breath. Trying a new tactic, he crouched behind his shield and placed his feet up against the cliff face. Pushing with all his might, he forced Theron to take a step back. This move freed his right arm, which he used to push off Theron’s helmet.

  In the next instant, a dull splat erupted from the top of Theron’s head, and he stopped moving. Baltazar then dropped his shield and grabbed the leather strap with his left hand. Up above Nasir yelled at their horse, “YA, YA, YA!”

  Startled, the horse, pulled with all its might to get away from the screaming man. The rope that Baltazar was hanging onto was tied to the pommel of the horse’s saddle and began pulling him up. As Baltazar was being pulled Theron’s corpse fell forward, and another damned used it as a springboard to launch itself at Baltazar. The thing was able to wrap its arms around his waist.

  The sudden unexpected addition of weight caused the horse to stop pulling. Trained to obey its riders commands the horse took the pull to mean stop. As Nasir yelled at the horse to get it pulling again, Baltazar pulled out his dagger and stabbed the damned in the head. Slain, its arms lost their grip, but its teeth were still locked to Baltazar’s leather belt.

 

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