Byzantium Infected Box Set

by James Mullins

  Attracted by the noise of the confrontation, several damned emerged from the open door to the courtyard, and ran toward the intersection the Governor and his escort currently occupied. The ladies not as well trained nor as experienced as the men, were startled by the snarling attackers and froze.

  At the last moment they came to their senses and realized the danger. In tandem the three ladies closest to the damned turned to form a line across the hallway, their backs to the latrine door where the Governor stood with a look of horror on his face. Without shields to block the damned charge, they would have to time their strike perfectly, to survive the onslaught. Liana and Assala, past the intersection and at the head of the column of ladies turned to assist.

  The damned that crashed into the thin line of ladies, were not mere servants, but palace guards. Their helmeted heads, and armored torsos presented an overwhelming challenge to the unarmored and lightly armed women that opposed them. Despite this disparity, the women took advantage of the natural gift that got them into Athos’ unit in the first place, nimble dexterity.

  As the trio of snarling palace guards, anticipating their first meals as damned, reached arm’s length, the ladies on the edges of the hallway struck home with their gladiuses. Farin, on the left side of the hallway, rammed the point of her blade into soft flesh of her opponent’s eye socket. Novin, on the right side of the hallway, plunged the point of her gladius into the open maw of the damned charging her. The former palace guard had opened its mouth in anticipation of the soft flesh it would soon feed on. Despite the successful strikes, these two damned, carried by their momentum, crashed into their killers and knocked them to the floor.

  The lady in the middle of the hall, Tika, was not as fortunate. Thanks in part to the sobbing child she held. Her thrust went slightly wide and the point of her blade deflected off the left chin guard of the helmeted horror bearing down on her. The damned, opened his arms wide and tackled her to the floor as they closed around her small form in a vise.

  Tika struggled to free herself as he fed on her soft flesh. Giving up, she screamed in agony as the flesh of her cheeks was pulled from her skull by sharp teeth and consumed. Her blood, soon matted her beautiful black curly hair as she thrashed. The baby she held, trapped between her body and the armored behemoth atop her, was crushed to death.

  Governor Maurice, stunned at this turn of events, watched in dazed horror as one of the ladies and the baby she held, was slain right in front of him by the hungry undead warrior. Back at the doorway Jirair came to Athos’ rescue and brought his Spatha down onto the head of the spindly servant girl that held Athos’ sword arm in her grip. His blade easily pierced her skull and sent bits of bone, blood, and brain matter flying with his mighty blow.

  Back in the hallway that lead to the courtyard, the two ladies that had slain their opponents, pushed the corpses of their defeated adversaries off. They then froze for a moment, as they witnessed their compatriot being ravaged. Quickly coming to their senses, one of them reached over for the helmet and tugged it off of the feeding damned’s head. The other pierced the right side of its head with her gladius.

  Slain, the former palace guard collapsed onto the body of his victim. Farin and Novin sprang to their feet looking for more threats. Their eyes quickly focused on the large body of damned emerging from the door to the courtyard into the hallway opposite the latrine. The ladies were shocked when one of the damned, a female, stuck her arms straight out to either side and halted the progress of the other damned that followed her.

  The most astonishing thing then happened, she smiled and then spoke, “Don’t be so shocked ladies. You will join my legion soon enough. Right after I feast on that fat fuck you are protecting. A fine meal that one will make.” Fonda said. She punctuated her statement with a smile that revealed blood stained teeth with pieces of flesh trapped amongst the nooks and crannies of her mouth.

  Tika, now damned, reached over and grabbed Farin’s leg. Farin, focused on Fonda, was oblivious to the threat behind her. The newly damned, hungry from the moment of birth, sank her teeth into the shapely soft flesh of Farin’s leg. Farin screamed in surprise as her leg gave out and she collapsed to the floor. Governor Maurice, stunned at the turn of events, pissed himself. The yellow liquid ran down his beefy legs and pooled onto the floor beneath him.

  Farin, now down on one knee, reached in vain behind her, “Tika stop!”

  Tika stopped feeding for a moment and looked into the eyes of Farin. Tika smiled and her teeth, once pristine and white was now filled with bits of Farin’s flesh and blood. Her eyes softened for the barest moment as she gazed upon Farin. Farin, gazing into Tika’s eyes, could see the spark of life that was once her friend fade, as the grayness completely took over. Tika continued to feed.

  Constan, pushed his way through Assala and Liana. Seeing the pool of urine beneath the Governor his face took on a disgusted cast, bloody coward. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, he drew his Spatha and cleaved Tika’s head in two as she fed on Farin’s calf muscle. Farin’s eyes met Constan’s, “Please sir, I beg thee.” She pointed at the corpse of her friend, “Don’t let me become like Tika. Kill me.”

  Nodding Constan, pulled his blade free of Tika’s ruined head. Her beautiful black tresses now matted in blood. Not wasting motion, he brought it up in a swing that sliced through Farin’s chin from below and continued upward through the rest of her skull. She collapsed in a wordless heap at the massive blow. Novin, witnessing this turn of events, let out a blood curdling scream.

  Constan, slapped her on the face with his left hand, trying to bring Novin to her senses, “Calm down lassie, do ye want to bring every damned in the city down upon us?”

  Constan then saw the smiling horror down the hall and turned to face her, “Bloody hell, I thought we had killed ye last night.”

  Fonda laughed and said, “No such luck old man.” Before Constan had a chance to speak she laughed again.

  Constan, sighed, “Aye, ‘tis a bloody shame. Seems I have to do everything me own self.” Turning to those behind him, he urged, “Get the Governor upstairs. I’ve got unfinished business to deal with.” He then took a step down the hallway toward Fonda and her minions. I don’t want Athos to see what is going on. He’ll insist on joining me.

  Novin, still sobbing, was gently led forward by Liana and Assala, while the Governor was pushed from behind by the five surviving ladies still in the hallway that led to the banquet hall. Novin and Governor Maurice, numb from the events that had just transpired, allowed themselves to be led with no resistance. The horror of their current reality had caused their brains a state of shock and they both shuffled their feet slowly forward as if in a hypnotic trance.

  Athos seeing that Constan was not among those being led past him asked, “Where’s the old man?”

  Scarius, knowing what Athos’ reaction would be to Constan’s intended sacrifice, turned him around toward the stairs that led to the second floor of the palace and urged, “Constan is right behind us. He told me to tell you, to lead the group upstairs while he takes a moment to bar the door to the courtyard.”

  Athos nodded and pushed his way to the front of the group, “Jirair, with me. The rest of you follow.”

  Constan, hearing the footsteps of his Skutatoi fade down the hall toward the stairs behind him, dropped into a fighting stance to face Fonda and her minions. He extended his left hand turned it, so that his palm faced upward, brought his fingers toward his wrist three times in quick succession motioning Fonda to advance, “Come meet ye doom, ye thrice damned bitch!”

  Fonda’s stopped smiling at the challenge, and her features contorted into rage. She dropped her arms which she had been extended to either side of her to hold back her minions and exclaimed, “Feed my children.”

  The damned behind Fonda snarled in a manner that could only be described as glee and charged around her as she stood unmoving. Without a shield Constan was forced to stay on the offensive. He quickly cleaved the head of his f
irst opponent from ear to ear with his Spatha. The top half of the lead damned’s skull flew backwards as Constan kicked the collapsing corpse in the chest. The body of his first opponent struck the next damned and caused her to trip and fall at Constan’s feet. He brought his sword down onto her head and it exploded like a melon.

  The next two undead arrived simultaneously. Constan kicked the one to his left in the chest, while simultaneously swinging his Spatha at the one to his right. The damned on his left, a former Skutatoi of the 5th Parthica, hands reached out and closed around Constan’s foot like a vise. This caused his Spatha swing to come up short. Only penetrating an inch into his opponent, the point of his blade sliced its way from the man’s sternum to his crouch.

  Desperate to avoid being bit, Constan collapsed to the floor and landed on his posterior. The damned to his right, a groom by his dress, was unable to stop his momentum and rushing past him. Constan, hooked his right leg behind the left calf of the former Skutatoi that loomed over him on his left and tugged with all his strength. This caused the former Skutatoi to fall to the floor. His metal armor creating a huge clatter as it struck the cold stone floor.

  Not wanting to risk missing again, Constan swung his Spatha from right to left and severed the head of the undead Skutatoi just as he began to rise. Sensing danger behind him, he then rolled to his right as hands reached out for him from the location he just vacated. Finishing on his knees up against the wall of the hallway, Constan swung his Spatha and severed both legs of his opponent.

  The now legless damned, fell forward. Constan brought his blade in from the other direction and cut the poor damned in half, this time at the waist. Putrid grayish colored intestines poured out of this latest opening onto the floor. Reaching his feet, Constan put the damned, now in four separate sections, out of its misery with a quick thrust to the back of the head with the point of his Spatha.

  Now panting from his efforts, he turned toward Fonda and the remainder of her minions. Without warning someone, or was it something roared in anger from the courtyard. Constan dropped into his fighting stance to await the next charging damned. It didn’t come. Instead, Fonda closed her eyes for several moments, and then inexplicably dove out an open window.

  The rest of the damned with her turned and began moving back toward the courtyard. Constan, not wanting to make a noise and cause the damned to change direction back toward him, crept silently behind them. As he drew near the doorway to the courtyard, he heard a man, or was it one of these unholy living nightmares screaming in rage.

  As Constan grabbed a door handle to each of the double doors that separated the hallway from the courtyard to close them, he spied a large man with a long beard fighting a dozen of the damned. Blood flowed freely from several very obvious bite marks on his naked torso, “Poor bastard, saved me life but is going to turn.” Constan muttered.

  As Constan began pushing the doors closed he heard a voice yell, “No Constan, stop!”

  Constan recognized the voice, “Baltazar?”

  Baltazar smiled and replied, “Aye, don’t shut those doors before you let us in. The town is swarming with damned.”

  Constan pointed at Legion, “Ye friend here is bit multiple times. We must put him out of his misery before he turns. A damned that large will be difficult to dispatch.”

  “No, he’s fine. I have much to tell you.” Baltazar replied.

  Constan, shook his head in disagreement, replied, “How can he be fine? Are ye daft? He’s clearly been bitten.”

  Baltazar chuckled a bit, “Legion is immune. He won’t become a damned.”

  Constan opened his mouth to speak and then froze. Not yet entirely sure that he heard Baltazar correctly. To clarify, he asked, “Immune to bites?”

  Baltazar nodded, “Yes, he can’t become a damned.”

  Constan laughed in relief, “That’s bloody convenient.”

  “Sometimes, other times not so much.” Baltazar replied.

  Finishing up the last of the damned between Constan and Baltazar’s trio, Legion fell to his knees and began smashing the corpses with his bare hands, “What’s wrong with him? Is he daft? Constan asked, then added, “Or small minded?”

  As Constan watched Legion smash the corpses of his defeated foes, a swarthy, very attractive lady with raven black hair, ran up to Legion and began singing a nursery rhyme. Though not instantaneous the effect was noticeable as Legion’s fury slowly abated and the features on his face relaxed. The woman continued to sing in a soft tone. After several more moments, his fury fully abated, Legion began to sob.

  It was then that Constan noticed Baltazar’s third companion. The man stood in the courtyard and faced toward the palace entrance. Like Baltazar, he wore only a ragged loin cloth. His swarthy body’s skin was crisscrossed by many white scars. Though he looked half-starved he held his blade with practiced familiarity. Constan pointed at both the man and the lady and asked, “Who are they?”

  Baltazar answered, “Nasir, a Dekanos from Arabia Province, and his companion Maarika.”

  Constan adopted a more relaxed posture as he pondered this information for a moment and then returned to the business at hand, “Right then. Let’s get inside and bar this door before Fonda rounds up some reinforcements.”

  Heedless of Constan’s command, Legion continued to sob as Maarika gently urged him to stand. Nasir acknowledged the command with a nod, careful not to turn his back toward the open doors that led to the palace entrance. He slowly backed up toward the doorway where Constan stood.

  Baltazar ran over to Legion and Maarika, and said, “Legion, we have to go now. You’re fine.” He pointed at Constan, “Just follow that nice man there. He’ll keep the bad people away.”

  Legion nodded and stood. Like both Nasir and Baltazar he wore only a ragged loincloth for modesty. Thanks to his time in Farid’s dungeon, his once ample gut that hung over his waist had shrank by close to a foot in girth. Despite this, he still cut an impressive figure with his large size. Wordlessly, Legion walked past Constan into the hallway behind him.

  Constan looked up into Legion’s eyes as the big man passed and thought to himself, Poor bastard is haunted by something. I wonder what? Legion was soon followed in turn by Maarika, Baltazar, and then Nasir.

  Everybody inside, Constan pulled the double doors shut and dropped the bar in place. Pointing to the open windows, he said, “We’ve got to shutter these windows. They look out into the city. Fonda could return with more damned at any moment. That will hopefully keep her out.”

  Legion just stood there like an immense stone statue and pondered Constan’s words. The thought cutting through the swirling pool of hurt and anguish rang out in his mind. Could it be? Is it her?

  While Legion was lost with his thoughts, Baltazar, Nasir, and Maarika, along with Constan began working to secure the windows. When the four of them had finished their work Baltazar made formal introductions, “May I present Constan my commanding officer and Tourmarches of the Damascus Tourma.”

  Nasir stiffened to attention, saluted and introduced himself, “Dekanos Nasir of Arabia Province, Excellency.”

  “At ease Dekanos, enough of that Excellency crap, I eat and shite same as ye.” Turning to Nasir’s companion Constan asked, “Who is this lovely creature?”

  Maarika smiled shyly, her perfect white teeth contrasted sharply with her swarthy features, “Maarika sir, I travel with Nasir.”

  Constan nodded knowingly, “Travel you say?” Maarika blushed at the question. Without waiting for a reply Constan pointed at Legion’s immense figure, “And this fellow?”

  Legion stared down at Constan impassively. Baltazar responded for him, “His name is Legion.”

  Nodding, Constan said, “When ye told me he was immune I didn’t believe ye, but the evidence is clear.” Constan pointed at several of the bleeding bite marks on Legion’s body, “He has been bitten multiple times, yet he has not turned.”

  Baltazar nodded, “Aye, we do not understand it ourselves. I have watche
d him being bitten by the damned on dozens of occasions. Yet he never turns.”

  Constan let out a low whistle, “Amazing. I wonder what gives him this immunity, and if it can be shared with others.”

  Baltazar shrugged his shoulders, “I have no idea sir.”

  Constan turned and faced Nasir, “What’s your story Dekanos? Arabia province is quite a distance to travel from through this damned infestation.” Constan chuckled at his own play on words.

  Nasir responded, “Indeed sir. I commanded a border post when the hungry, these things you called the damned, attacked and killed my men.”

  Nasir’s shoulders slumped after making the statement and his lower jaw began to shake. Maarika put an arm around Nasir’s shoulders from behind and squeezed him. She whispered gently into his ear, “It’s ok love, it wasn’t your fault.”

  “Care to elaborate?” Constan asked.

  Nasir nodded and continued his tale, “We were in my quarters with the door closed and barred when the damned arrived. I had drunk much that night and slept through the entire attack. The next morning when I awoke, my men.” Nasir’s voice trailed off and he began to sob.

  Maarika continued the story, “His men had been slain in the most gruesome manner imaginable. Some of them had been completely eaten, others had become something else. What my people call the hungry.”

  Pulling himself together Nasir continued, “We tried to get to my Kentarches to warn him, but they arrived before us. Then we tried to get to Aqaba. Circumstances conspired against us, and the hungry arrived at the city before we could give warning.”

  Constan nodded, “So you may have been among the first Romans to encounter this scourge. It came from Arabia you say?”

  Maarika responded before Nasir could, “Aye. It was an evil that emerged from the deep desert.” It was Maarika’s turn to be stricken by grief. She took a deep breath and tried to control the emotions raging in her mind. Successful for the moment she continued with a quivering voice, “They came out of the deep desert with no warning and attacked my tribe. My family was slain. I managed to get away.” It was Maarika’s turn to sob.