Byzantium Infected Box Set

by James Mullins

  Maarika snorted and then laughed, “And who fills your heads with such nonsense?”

  “For me, it was a grizzled one-eyed veteran named Constan. I thought he was a crazy bastard until we faced the possibility of dying for the first time. Then all those lessons we gave him so much crap about, kept us alive.”

  Nasir laughed, “Aye, it was the same with me when I was your age. I don’t think the Drill Dekanoses are born into this world and grow up as we do. I think the bastards are carved from granite and imbued with the spirit of Mithras.”

  Baltazar laughed, then crossed himself at the mention of a pagan god, “I don’t approve of any God other than our Lord, but I get your meaning.”

  Their luck finally ran out as they followed the Damascus road eastward. As Mount Hermon came into view, they were beset upon by a dozen or so damned coming out of the hills on the south side of the road.

  Before anyone could react, Legion let out a ferocious sounding roar and charged into the midst of the damned. He drew his gladius and drove the pommel so hard into the top of one of their heads that the skull split and splattered him with brains. Several of the damned grabbed him at the same time and attempted to hold him down. Using her sling Maarika, began dropping each of the undead,

  “They’re working together to hold down Legion?” Blurted Baltazar, as he drew a Spatha he had found in one of the huts in Tuba. Likely abandon by one of the deserters.

  With a great bellow Legion cast the damned away from him using his large hands. One by one they flew through the air. As they landed and skidded across the ground, sharp jagged rocks opened the skin on their backs. Purple ichor leaked out of their new wounds into the dry earth as they came to a halt.

  Unfortunately, each damned quickly regained their footing and charged toward Legion. This time Nasir and Baltazar were on his flanks, and it went better. Together the trio made short work of them.

  Samuel pointed to Legion frantically and shakily drew his gladius, “He’s been bitten several times. Hurry we must put him out of his misery before he turns.”

  Baltazar placed a hand on his shoulder, “No need. God knows why, but Legion is immune to the effects of a bite.”

  Nasir added, “Aye, he must leave a foul taste in the hungry bastard’s mouth. They bite him once, and then they never want to bite him again. More’s the pity for them, he could feed an entire horde.”

  Legion looked down on Nasir in his usual dower manner. Then something odd happened. The corners of his mouth turned up. The skin on his forehead and around his eyes began to crinkle. Then his mouth opened displaying a perfect row of white teeth. Finally, a great bellowing laugh burst from his chest and echoed off the surrounding hills.

  “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard a sound come out of his mouth that wasn’t a battle cry toward the damned,” Baltazar said with an incredulous look on his face.

  “He can talk. Usually he chooses not to.” Maarika noted.

  They continued their journey for the remainder of the day without incident. They came upon the spot where Justin, Baltazar, Jaco, and the rest of their men had spent that first night on their journey toward Yarmouk. The burnt remains of the first wagon they lost sat as mute testament to the events of that night.

  “Let’s camp here for the evening.” Baltazar pointed at the spot where his group had camped before, “This is where we camped on our first night out of Damascus. We learned an expensive lesson that night about the damned and fire.”

  “Looks like a good as spot as any. Who wants first watch?”

  “Can I have the last one?” Samuel asked and then added, “Tabitha has been keeping Sarah awake in the middle of the night. I might as well try to give her a good night’s sleep by tending to the baby while I stand watch.”

  Both Nasir and Baltazar looked uneasy. Before either had a chance to answer Maarika spoke, “That’s very thoughtful of you, Samuel. Certainly.”

  Despite the two Dekanoses’ misgivings about allowing Samuel to stand watch while his attention was divided by Tabitha the night was uneventful.

  Baltazar awoke feeling refreshed after his recent ordeal. The day promised to be another scorcher as the early morning sun was already casting an uncomfortably hot glare down upon the parched land. The group quickly packed up and set off to the East down the Damascus Road.

  An air of excitement permeated the group. Today is the day that they would arrive in Damascus. Baltazar tried to focus his thoughts on what lay ahead of him that day, Liana. As he daydreamed of her warm smile, soft skin, and the way she smelled the thoughts of the loss of his first command slid to the back of his mind.

  “How large is Damascus?” Maarika asked. Before Baltazar could answer, she added, “Is it bigger than Jerusalem?”

  Baltazar drank in her enthusiasm like a fine wine, This is the positivity I need today. He thought to himself. Maarika began to frown at Baltazar’s lack of response. With a bit of a stutter, Baltazar began, “I’ve never been to Jerusalem, but I’ve heard it is physically larger than Damascus. Damascus is a different kind of city than Jerusalem. Jerusalem expanded haphazardly around the hill with God’s Temple upon it.”

  Nasir joined in the conversation, “Aye, the narrow winding streets and constant dead ends were not very well planned. Is Damascus different?”

  “Aye. The original city was destroyed by the Parthians during one of the many wars with Rome. It was rebuilt about three hundred years ago as a Roman Garrison and Armory. Unlike Jerusalem, the entire city is contained within the walls. The city itself is well planned, and the streets are straight and broad.”

  Nasir smiled, “Sounds like the kind of orderly place a soldier can appreciate.”

  Maarika remembering how Spartan the last Roman Fort she saw was, “Doesn’t sound very enchanting.”

  “Be at ease. Damascus is on the silk road, so unlike Jerusalem, our agora is filled with many spices, beautiful silks, and other wonders of the Orient.”

  This revelation made Maarika smile, and she turned to Nasir, “Can you buy me a new dress?” As she asked the question, she absentmindedly stroked her worn, stained, and tattered woolen dress.

  Nasir unconsciously placed his hand on the heavy purse he had earned extorting merchants that crossed the border at his post and the booty they had gathered on their journey replied, “Though you make anything you wear ravishing, love. The thoughts of you in a fine dress warm my heart.”

  Maarika smiled mischievously and winked, “I bet that’s not the only location on your body that warms.”

  Baltazar cleared his throat loudly, “Save it for the Inn.”

  Maarika slid her arm into Nasir’s, looked at Baltazar and smiled, “If I must.”

  They continued walking throughout the day. As they drew near to Damascus Baltazar began seeing many familiar landmarks. They passed neither living human nor the damned. The emptiness of the land added to the sense of barrenness. Despite the seeming lack of activity both Baltazar and Nasir scanned the horizons all around the group looking for the slightest sign of movement.

  Movement from the occasional lizard or rodent would startle the pair of men. Their caution slowed the pace. Despite the reduced pace, Damascus came into view as the sun was setting in the west. The city shimmered in the orange light. Everyone in the group marveled at the impressive sight after so much emptiness.

  “I didn’t think it was possible for mankind to construct something so large,” Samuel stated. His face showed unabashed amazement at the sight of Damascus.

  At first, Sarah just stood there with her mouth open taking in the view. Finally recovering she added, “I’ve never seen the like. If mortals are capable creating such a place, just imagine how magnificent the Kingdom of Heaven truly is.”

  At the mention of God Baltazar, Nasir, and Samuel unconsciously perform the sign of the cross.

  It took the group another forty minutes or so to make their way to the gate on the western side of the city. Baltazar noticed that the appearance of the exterior of
the city was changing, “Look at all the digging going on. It wasn’t like this when I left.” He pointed to the drawbridge over the half-finished ditch, “The drawbridge is new as well.”

  As they walked onto the drawbridge, the sound of their footsteps on the fresh smelling wood could be heard echoing off the imposing walls before them. The group came to a halt in front of the two large oak doors at the end of the drawbridge. Baltazar drew his Spatha and banged on the door three times with the pommel before slipping it back into its sheath with a snick noise.

  A small wooden square at head height opened a few feet to Baltazar’s left, “Who are you?”

  Baltazar positioned himself in front of the opening and replied, “I’m Dekanos Baltazar of the 5th Parthica returning from the weapons salvage mission to Yarmouk.”

  The man inside, a guardsmen Baltazar presumed, but couldn’t tell as all he saw was the man’s face, looked the group over and chuckled, “You seem to be short the wagons, weapons, and everyone else that went with you. Who is this lot with you?”

  Baltazar frowned and pointed to Nasir, “Nasir here is also a Dekanos. He and his group rescued us on the road to Yarmouk.”

  The guard grinned at this and replied, “A fine job he did too, seeing as you’re the only survivor.”

  Baltazar losing his patience replied, “Enough. Open the gate. I must report what has transpired to Tourmarches Constan.”

  “In due course. The officer of the watch must approve any entries into the city after dusk. He has been summoned. Please wait patiently.” After a brief pause, the man added, “Sir.”

  With that, the opening was snapped shut, and Baltazar was left to stare at the two doors.

  “What a warm welcome,” Nasir said sarcastically.

  “Will they let us in? If they don’t where would we go?” Maarika asked.

  Legion let out a low growl, walked to the end of the drawbridge and stood gazing at the desert. Tabitha, sensing the stress of everyone around her, began to cry. Sarah rocked Tabitha back and forth trying to calm her. While Samuel took up a position next to Legion.

  “I don’t know what to make of that,” Baltazar said frowning.

  “We could be in the middle of the desert, or a trading post on the edge of civilization north of the Euxine Sea, or even Constanfuckingnople and it's still all the same with this damn Empire, bureaucrats! Everyone needs to get permission from the damned quill pushers to scratch their arse!” Nasir roared shaking his fist at the still shut and presumably barred gate.

  After many more minutes and frayed nerves later, they could hear the sound of the bar behind being lifted out of its place on the other side of the mammoth door. Moments later the door creaked in protest as it was pushed open from the inside. The two guardsmen pushing the door open revealed the figure of Zahid with hands on hip just inside the doorway.

  “Welcome back Dekanos. I see you are missing some folks. May I ask what happened to the guardsmen you took with you?” Zahid asked in a condescending tone.

  Baltazar inwardly sighed, “All were lost.” Baltazar gestured behind him, “The world out there is overrun with the damned. We were beset upon many times.”

  “Yet you survive.”

  “Aye.”

  Noticing the group behind him for the first time Zahid asked, “Who are these people?”

  “This is Dekanos Nasir of Arabia Province.”

  Before Baltazar can continue, Zahid interrupts and asks, “You’re a long way from home Dekanos. What brings you here?”

  “The hungry ones. Those that you call the damned. Arabia province is,” Nasir pauses a moment. “Gone.”

  “Destroyed?”

  Nasir shakes his head in the affirmative and adds, “Overrun.”

  “And the rest of your band?” Zahid snapped. Clearly used to giving orders.

  Baltazar continues with the introductions, “Maarika, Nasir’s traveling companion.” Zahid looks Maarika up and down not bothering to hide the lust on his face, “Samuel, Sarah, and baby Tabitha of the village of Tuba. Finally Legion. Not sure what to make of him but he is passionate about killing the damned.”

  “Very well then, you may enter. Welcome home.”

  Zahid stands aside, and Baltazar and the group walk through the gate. As they enter Damascus, Baltazar sees that the entire 1st Kentarchia is present. The ninety men are formed up on either side of the road. In fact, the 1st Kentarchia is lined up so tightly that Baltazar and his group is forced to walk single file between the two lines. Odd, Baltazar thought.

  Once Baltazar’s entire group is inside the gate, hands from the men of the 1st Kentarchia, reach out and grab all of their arms, pinning them. A burlap sack is pulled over Baltazar’s head and without warning awareness escaped him.

  Chapter 35

  September 28th 636, Damascus, Syria Province, Byzantium

  The Horde

  Constan stood on the battlement looking west into the desert. The sky was treating him to a breathtaking sunset. The clouds gathering on the horizon were various shades of purple, red, orange, and yellow. He savored the first real moment that he has been able to relax in weeks. Since the remnants of the 5th Parthica returned from Yarmouk, his life has been a blur.

  He still was getting used to the idea he was a Tourmarches responsible for the defense of Damascus. Despite his personal misgivings over the promotion from his previous rank of Dekanos, he had to admit that Governor Maurice had chosen wisely. Not that the Governor had much choice. It was either him or the commander of the Town Guards, Farid.

  Given the fact that Farid had been appointed his position because of the noble blood that ran through his veins and not practical experience, or ability for that matter, the choice was apparent. Despite Constan’s lack of experience at higher ranks, he had been able to accomplish miracles in the last six weeks. He sighed contentedly as his thoughts drifted over everything that had been accomplished.

  The new trainees have been trained. At least trained well enough that they wouldn’t kill each other in battle. Many of them proudly showed off their newly gained muscles forged by their work in the armory. This exhibition of male prowess was often repeated in one of the many of the taverns across Damascus every evening. If their efforts failed to produce the desired results, it was often repeated in one of the local brothels.

  The beneficiary of this manly display was any female that paid them the slightest interest. Constan grinned at the thought of his new army’s efforts at bedding those special ladies. Thanks to their labors to keep the forges burning hot, everyone had been equipped, trained, and is now ready to defend Damascus. More or less.

  Though they were able to fill their ranks with a 2nd draft, their numbers were still woefully inadequate for defending the walls. Constan sighed and said “I hope and pray our new defenses make up for our lack of numbers.”

  Athos ignored the statement and pointed southward, “A rider is coming in fast. One of our scouts?”

  Constan’s face contorted into a grimace, “Hopefully the bugger is just in a hurry to join his comrades for a drink.”

  Athos shook his head, “The scouts aren’t due to be relieved for another four hours.”

  “Hercules’ hairy sacks!” Constan bellowed, as he brought a fist down on the battlement to emphasize his point, “Let’s get down to the gate and see what the problem is.” He looked at the sky one last time admiring the view. The oranges and yellows had morphed into deep reds, and purples as darkness approached, “The fall rains are coming. It's going to storm tonight.” Constan observed.

  Constan and Athos made their way down to the main gate, which was barred shut. Constan felt that the customary practice of leaving the gates open during the day increased the risk of the damned getting into the city. Not that anyone had been coming or going lately. The damned and ghosts ruled the countryside these days.

  As they emerged from the tower, they observed two men standing in front of the gate chatting. Constan noted that they were two of the newer recruits from
the 5th Kentarchia. The two guards looked ready for battle. The men wore a chainmail tunic, traditional Roman helmet, and grieves. In addition to their armor, each of them had a shield, ax, and a Spatha. As Constan and Athos emerged from the tower, the two men snapped to attention, “Open the gate.” Ordered Constan.

  The two men replied in unison, “Yes, sir!” Setting their unpainted shields aside, they hadn’t had time to paint them in the colors of the 5th Parthica, they set about lifting the bar. Their muscles bulged as they hefted the heavy metal bar out of the slots and dropped it into two metal arms embedded in the nearest wall to hold it. As they worked on their task, Constan thought to himself, Still not used to being called sir.

  Their first task complete, the two men set about pushing the gate open. The hinges protested with a loud creaking noise but eventually gave way to the men’s efforts. Athos took an unlit torch from the nearby wall and gave it to one of the men, “Light this and stand with us.”

  The Skutatoi saluted by way of reply and set about lighting it with his flint. Constan and Athos walked out of the city about thirty feet and waited for the approaching rider. As they walked across the drawbridge the smell of freshly churned earth and hewed wood filled their nostrils. They were soon flanked on either side by the two guards now holding lit torches.

  The rider was drawing close now. As he reached the Tyre Road, the sound of his horse’s hooves changed from a dull thump, thump, thump, to a sharper clop, clop, clop. Seeing Constan and Athos for the first time, he continued thundering down the road. As he drew near to them, he pulled back hard on the reins. His horse immediately skidded to a halt just shy of them.

  “Report!” Constan barked.

  The man replied as best he could in Persian-accented Greek, “A horde comes!”

  “Minerva’s withered tits! How long do we have?” Constan asked. Athos thought to himself, Why is the old man using the names of Pagan Gods? Has he forsaken the Lord our God and reverted to the barbaric practice of worshipping the Old Gods?

  The rider drew a few more feet closer and looked down upon them. The stink of the horse’s sweat washed over them. “They’re moving in an organized fashion in this direction. Maybe an hour?”