“Christ in heaven!” Constan turned to Athos, “Sound the alarm. Keep it quiet, no church bells. Maybe the mindless bastards will turn away. No sense in ringing the dinner bell for them.”
Athos struck his heart with his right fist in salute, “Aye, sir!”
“Still not used to being called sir,” Constan grumbled under his breath. The two guards grinned at his statement as he turned to walk back into the city, “Wipe those smiles off ye pox ridden faces and close this damn gate!”
Both of the guards yelled in unison, “Yes, sir!” And set about closing the gate.
Constan walked away muttering, “Those two bastards did that on purpose.”
The alarm was efficiently raised without the use of church bells, whistles, or other noise making devices. Soldiers were mustered out of the barracks, pulled out of the city’s taverns, and where necessary ripped from the beds they were sharing with local residents. Where they were often engaged in earnest attempts to create reinforcements for the future.
Constan stood atop the western gate of the city and looked left and right down the walls, “I sure hope the bastards don’t attack all the walls simultaneously. We only have enough soldiers to defend one wall.”
“Aye, perhaps the new defenses will put an end to them?” Athos surmised.
Constan fretted, “Fancy machinery is all well and good, but I’d take the Tourma we left on the field at Yarmouk over a hole in the ground, and pasty engineers.”
Athos rolled his eyes, “Those engineers come from Emperor Heraclius himself. Surely the devices they have deployed will repel the damned?”
“Have you ever known the damned to stop at all? I bet ye my left nut the Emperor sent those buggers here to figure out what works and what doesn’t. That way it’s not his arse in a sling if some of their ideas don’t work.”
The other Kentarches laughed at Athos’ expense. Before everyone could finish their display of mirth Damon shushed them, “I hear them, shhh.”
The group of officers grew quiet and listened. It started out as a faint rumble, Maybe it’s just the storm? Constan thought.
Before Constan could determine if the rumble was coming from the storm clouds or the damned, the question was irrefutably answered when the stench of death washed over them. The veterans of Yarmouk were used to it, but the new recruits murmured in dismay amongst themselves. Many, overcome by the smell, vomited.
“They’re comin’ alright,” Constan noted. He turned to his officers, “Take ye positions. Ye know the plan. If each do ye part, we will survive this.”
Each of the Kentarches saluted and departed, “Athos is your command formed up at the gate as we planned?”
Athos turned and looked down at his group. He had given up command of the 2nd Kentarchia to get back into Constan’s good graces by volunteering for this new unit, “Aye, they’re in position. As soon as you need us, I’ll run down there and lead them out.”
“Good, I fear we will need your special services before this night is over. I pray that this idea will work.”
They could see and hear them now. A writhing, moaning, growling mass that approached the western wall, “Any reports from the other walls? Are we under attack from all sides?”
The leader of the scouting force reported in Persian-accented Greek, “We only have contacts on the western wall so far.”
“Praise God for small miracles,” Constan stated. At the mention of God, everyone in earshot crossed themselves except for the scout leader.
The mass drew within five hundred feet of the wall. They could see the entire western horizon bobbing to, and fro with movement, “Those bastards will charge just as soon as they smell us.” Constan surmised.
At three hundred feet the entire horde came to a stop, “What the hell? Since when do the damned do anything but charge, bite, and feast?” Athos asked with a tone of wonderment in his voice.
Constan answered, “Beats the bloody hell out of me. These beasties are bad enough when they’re dumb. Saints preserve us if they’ve gotten smarter.”
A part formed in the midst of the damned as the two men watched, “Why are they parting as the Red Sea did for Moses?” A voice off to their right asked.
Constan replied, “Let’s hope that Moses hasn’t started fighting for the damned.”
As the part in the legions of the damned reached the front, a single figure, a woman, emerged from their midst. The female placed her hands on her hips and looked up at the pair standing on the battlement, “Is Baltazar among you?”
“Does she know what happened to Baltazar?” Athos asked.
Shaking his head in dismay, Constan added, “As much as I miss the lad I think we need to be focusing on the fact that she just spoke!”
Constan squared his shoulders, straightened his spine, and gazed down upon the talking damned below, “Who might ye be that has knowledge of Baltazar?”
The female damned smiled and met Constan’s gaze with one of pure malevolence, “My name is Fonda. Pleased to meet you. I’ll be the last new acquaintance you’ll be making this side of hell.”
Constan swallowed hard, “Why are you here?”
“Well isn’t it obvious? We’re here for dinner.” Fonda paused, stuck her nose out in front of her, and took a deep breath, “I smell lots of living flesh and fear in front of me tonight.” With that Fonda raised both of her arms and screamed, “Feast my children!”
As one the damned lurched, shambled, crawled, and ran forward. Constan turned to the nearby archers hiding just out of sight, “Light and then wait for my signal!” Each of the archers dipped the tip of their arrows into a brazier. The arrowheads were covered in flammable material, and they instantly lit.
The damned quickly covered the distance to the wall. As they reached the ditch, the horde flung themselves into the black tarry substance contained within it. The initial damned to enter the ditch became mired in the thick black material the trench was filled with and sank to the bottom. The same thing occurred to the next three ranks of the undead. With the fourth rank there was enough of their predecessors piled up in the bottom of the ditch that they were making their way across by standing on their brethren.
As they reached the middle of the ditch, Constan yelled, “Fire!” The twang of twenty taunt bows being released simultaneously reverberated off the stone battlements. The twenty arrows, all of them on fire, impacted the damned making their way across the ditch. All were covered in the black tarry substance. When the arrow struck, all of them immediately caught on fire.
The fire quickly spread down the burning unfortunates and onto the black substance in the ditch. With a loud whoosh, the fire spread rapidly across the ditch setting all of the damned within on fire. The undead, now aflame as they crossed the ditch, crashed into the bottom of the wall. Desperate to feast on the living flesh within the walls they clawed and scratched hopelessly at the shear surface.
Governor Maurice joined Constan on the battlement. He was breathing hard after heaving his impressive bulk up the stairs. He looked down upon the burning masses of the damned and began laughing, “Those bastards are so stupid that they continue to run into the fire?”
“Aye, they are attracted to noise, and the sounds of the burning damned are creating one hell of a noise right now.”
As they watched, the damned at the base of the wall tried to climb onto one another to begin scaling it. No sooner had one crawled onto the back of their predecessor, then that burning unfortunate would collapse into a charred heap. As the minutes ticked by this process repeated itself over and over until the bones of the damned were piled in front of the wall.
“How many of the bastards do you think are out there?” The Governor asked.
“Based on the sheer mass of the buggers I’d say at least fifty thousand all told. Maybe more.”
“Fifty thousand against our paltry force?” The Governor asked again with an edge of fear in his voice, “They outnumber our warriors fifty to one.”
“Aye, even w
ith that black stuff the Persians were able to collect in the desert and fill the ditch with, I fear that there will be too many for our small force to handle,” Constan stated.
“Where did they find it?” The Governor asked.
Constan smiled, “They say it just bubbles right up to the surface in places. They never really paid it much mind until a drunk with a torch tripped and fell into a pool one night. The poor bastard went up instantly, becoming a human torch. Like he was covered in pitch but worse.”
As he said it the fire burning in the ditch began to smolder and wink out, “Christ almighty!” Constan looked up and down the line of Skutatoi manning the wall, “This is it, boys. Soon those bastards will be up here. Hold the line as best ye can.” Constan turned and looked down into the city behind him, “Artillery, you’re up. On my command begin firing the catapults based on the spot we sighted before the battle. Don’t ye fuck up. If ye do, you’ll be killing us instead!”
The men manning the catapults lined up behind the wall in the city replied in unison, “Yes, sir!”
Constan turned back around, drew his Spatha and looked down. The damned were flowing up the wall toward them, “Those buggers will be up here soon.” He turned to Athos and ordered, “Get down to ye unit. I’ll be needing ye soon.”
Athos saluted and ran for the nearest tower door.
Constan bellowed, “Get ye crossbows set, they be comin’!” He looked over at the Persian Scout Commander, “I pray to God these crossbows of yours will work.”
“They’ll work. We spent much coin on spies to smuggle the design out of a far off land called Chin. After your people defeated mine and drove us from your lands, we needed a secret weapon so that our peasants could stand against you and defend our homes.”
“I’d love to hear the rest of the story, but now is not the time.” Constan picked up one of the new crossbows and looked it over. It differed from the crossbows that the Romans were accustomed to using. Mounted above the bolt was a magazine that held an additional twenty rounds. The crossbow had a simple hand crank. After you fire the crossbow you had but to pull the hand crank toward you and it would drop a fresh bolt into place, while simultaneously pulling the bowstring back to the latch to set it.
Constan peered over the wall down at the damned. Like water breaking against a dam the undead horde piled upon itself. Foot by foot they climbed upon one another as they drew closer to the top of the wall, “On my command begin firing. Remember to take your time and aim for the head. If you hit anywhere else, ye are just wasting ammo!”
Constan watched his first potential target for several seconds. Dressed in the tattered rags that were God knows what before the unfortunate was bitten, it shimmied up the backs of its compatriots with ease. Reaching a point only five feet from the top of the wall it looked up at Constan and snarled.
He raised his crossbow and squeezed the trigger. With a jerk, the bolt spanned the distance between him and his target nearly instantly. Well aimed, his shot struck the thing right in the forehead. The impact of the bolt piercing the skull, sent the damned sailing backward. The body crushed the damned below with a dull splat as it struck the ground.
“Choose your targets and fire!” Constan bellowed. The sounds of bolts being shot from the crossbows could be heard up and down the wall. As each of the men used the hand crank to quickly load and fire the damned were slain by the hundreds. Despite the fast pace of firing of these special crossbows from Chin, the damned continued to get closer to the top of the wall.
“They’re too close to the top now, switch to ye Spathas!”
Obeying Constan’s command, as one the men dropped the crossbows that they had been using and drew their Spathas. Hands were now grasping for them and over top of the walls. Going to work with their Spathas the men of the 5th Parthica removed fingers, arms, and many heads from the bodies of the undead horde attempting to overrun them.
Moments before the first of the undead managed to crest the wall, Constan whirled around and yelled at the catapults below, “Now!” All the catapults fired simultaneously. The stones sailed nearly straight up in the air. As they began their descent, Constan uttered a quick prayer, “Please God may their aim be true.” Well aimed, each stone narrowly missed the defenders as every single one of the large rocks came crashing down just in front of the walls.
The efforts of the damned to crest the walls of Damascus was brutally halted as the stones crashed into them. They crushed each successive layer of the damned until broken bones and putrid flesh were driven into the earth below with a tremendous splat, “Reload your crossbows and prepare for the next wave.” The men sheathed their Spathas, picked up their crossbows, and began carefully placing bolts in the magazine. Below the commands of Artillery Dekanoses could be heard screaming at their men to get the catapults reloaded.
They didn’t have long to wait until the damned were once again in danger of cresting the wall. The cycle repeated itself several times until the defenders ran low on bolts and ammunition for the catapults.
Finally, it was Athos’ turn. Moments before the damned finally succeeded in cresting the wall, Constan yelled down at Athos, “Now Athos, they’re going to make it over!”
Athos yelled at his men in the front rank. All had been turned into giants of men as they worked countless hours feeding charcoal into the fires for the armory forges. With grunts and bulging muscles, they pushed the gate open against the tidal wave of the damned seething upon it. As more and more of the first rank was exposed they covered themselves with giant shields to keep the damned at bay.
As the second rank made it through the gate, they held their large shields aloft. The shields were a new design. Each was twice the length and breadth of an old-style legionary square shield. These shields also had a unique feature, one foot from the top and one foot from the bottom a slit two inches wide and three feet across was cut into them.
Row by row Athos’ formation made it out the gate. Once several rows were outside, he yelled, “Ladies, get in there and start killing the damned!” Fearless, the young women of Damascus screamed and charged into the formation from inside the city. Their small, lithe forms easily squeezed between the large brutes holding the shields aloft.
Athea looked over at Liana and smiled, “Now we get to fight like warriors!” Athea turned and spotted two eyes belonging to one of the dead peering at her through the nearest slit. She drew her gladius and stabbed it right between the eyes.
Protected by the shields, the ladies slew hundreds of the damned. As a result, the shield formation was able to make forward progress until it was completely outside the gates. Once the entire formation had made it out of the gates, shields were dropped into place by the last line of brutes facing backward. Once the rear of the formation was secure, the doors to the gate were hastily pulled shut.
The women once again screamed and set about killing the damned through the slits from the protected space inside the mobile fortification. As Athos had trained them, they constantly banged on the shields to create noise to attract more damned. This distracted the horde away from the walls of Damascus and onto Athos’ testudo.
The temperature quickly grew inside the square as the large men struggled to keep the shields aloft to hold back the damned, and the smaller nimble female forms slipped in between them to deliver killing stabs through the slits. Liana slew a damned by stabbing it through the eye in front of her. As the creature fell away she got a momentary glance at the masses beyond their thin line of shields, “My God, is this what happened to Baltazar?”
“No, Baltazar is still out there somewhere trying to make his way home to you. Every one of these things stands between you and him. Kill them all and you will be reunited!” Athea declared.
The women used to being second-class citizens in a male-dominated world, took this rare opportunity and fought like the legendary Amazons of old. Unfortunately, they did not anticipate how many of the damned would attack the formation. The crush of the undead from both
the sides and above began to become more than the men holding the shields could bare. Strained muscles began to weaken, especially amongst those that were keeping the damned off of them by holding shields above them. Athos, in the middle of this formation, yelled encouragement to both the men holding the shields and the women doing the killing.
Unable to get at Athos’ formation because of the volume of undead around and on top of them, the horde once again began flowing up the wall into Damascus. For a time the defenders were able to hold them back with their crossbows and catapults. More ammunition had been brought up thanks to the distraction Athos’ testudo had created.
Eventually, Constan’s defenders ran out of both bolts and stones again. This time there were no more to be had in the city. Bracing themselves for the inevitable, they didn’t have long to wait as the damned finally crested all along the wall simultaneously.
Constan grabbed his shield, drew his Spatha and attacked the damned as they came over the wall. For several moments the defenders held all along the wall keeping the hordes of undead at bay. Tremendous fury was wrought upon the minions of Satan in the first few minutes after they reached the top. The Warriors of the 5th Parthica sent hundreds of the undead tumbling from the top of the wall. For a brief moment, the tide of darkness was pushed back.
Then with a renewed fury, the undead legions pushed back over the top of the wall. For several minutes the line of men held. Then the inevitable happened. One of the inexperienced defenders made a mistake and became a feast. Soon a few of the damned were able to clamor onto the battlements and drive a wedge through the lines of defenders.
In Athos’ square, one of the shield bearer’s muscles failed him, and the damned were able to push their way into the middle of the formation. Athos drew a short ax, perfect for close quarters fighting, and waded into the breach. Sensing the danger behind her, he was joined by Athea. Together they began laying waste to the damned flooding the breach, but it seemed hopeless. There were simply too many.
Byzantium Infected Box Set Page 51