Constan turned in his saddle and looked back at Athos, “Kentarches, ride to the rear of the column and inform Droungarios Hovig what has happened. Ye are to relieve him as the officer in charge of the rear. He is to come up and take charge of the head of the column. Have him set out pickets in all directions to prevent any surprises and deploy the men in battle formation. As they wait, have the men begin erecting a marching fort. They are to complete the ditch and wall facing the incoming horde to the east first. Then the north and south side, and finally west. Questions?”
“No, sir.” Athos said.
“Good, I am going to ride east with.” Constan paused and looked at the messenger expectantly.
“Trooper Ruben of the 5th Babylon light horse.”
“With Ruben here to see this damned horde for myself. Understood?”
Athos stiffened to the position of attention as best he could manage in his saddle. Saluted and said, “Understood, sir.”
Without another word Constan turned his white and gray dappled horse toward the east, loosened his hold on the animal’s reins, smacked it on the rump, and yelled, “Heeya!”
Released, the horse sprang forward and rushed toward the eastern horizon at a full gallop. As the wind roared in his ears, Constan, smiling, turned back to see Ruben giving chase as best he could. Ruben’s animal, already nearly exhausted quickly fell back as Constan’s raced eastward. Squinting against the wind as he looked ahead, he began laughing with excitement, and hunkered down in the saddle behind the animal’s neck. This is fun beyond measure! Constan thought to himself.
Constan rode for several miles at this speed before his nose picked up the smell of death. Pulling on his horse’s reins, he slowed the animal to a walking pace and peered eastward. He put his right hand on his brow to shade his eyes from the still bright October sun overhead to improve his vision. The only thing he could hear was the sounds of his mount’s labored breathing as the animal tried to catch its breath.
Just a short distance ahead was a low rise that obscured the view beyond it. Constan loosened the reins and kicked his animal in the flanks. The horse, with considerably less enthusiasm this time, leapt forward into a gallop. Topping the hill Constan’s eye widened as he pulled back on the reins and beheld the scene in front of him.
Damir, had his entire force arrayed on the northern flank of the damned horde. As Constan watched, they gathered into a line formation and charged the undead, “What are they doing?” Constan asked out loud. His question was met with the faint sound of thousands of horse hooves striking the earth. “A charge against those numbers is madness!”
As Constan watched, his horror grew. Damir’s small cavalry force continued their mad dash toward the horde. The damned, distracted by the noise, and the smell of living flesh, began to change direction toward the oncoming cavalry. Thousands of the putrid corpses shambled, ran, or dragged themselves in the direction of the oncoming riders. Constan kicked his horse in the side and turned the beast toward the charging line of cavalry, “I must stop this madness before Damir loses his men!”
As Constan galloped toward Damir’s men, the line of nearly five hundred riders drew within one hundred yards of the horde. Without warning the force simultaneously drew in their reins bringing their animals to a halt. The damned, frustrated that their meals were no longer charging right into their hungry maws, let out moans. They were clearly frustrated at the proximity of living flesh. Their frustration vented; they ran as fast as their rotting legs would take them toward their intended meal.
Damir’s men, grabbed their bows from their backs and took careful aim at the oncoming horde. Damir, rode out in front of the formation and stopped perilously closed to the damned, raised his sword in the air, and pointed it toward the oncoming mass of creatures while he yelled, “Loose and fire at will!”
Simultaneously, hundreds of arrows sprang forth from the bows of the cavalry force. Within a moment the arrows slammed into the oncoming horde. Dozens of the arrows, thumped into heads of the oncoming damned. Those that were struck in the head, dropped immediately to the ground, and their bodies were mashed into the earth by the feet of those that followed. Most of the arrows punctured other parts of the damned bodies. Those undead, intent on their meal, didn’t even notice the arrows as they were struck.
Damir’s force fired off hundreds more arrows as the damned closed to within fifty yards of their position. As the distance diminished and the mounted archer’s aim improved, hundreds of the damned fell to the constant stream of arrows being fired at them. Before the horde could closed the distance Damir shouted, “Withdraw one hundred yards and reform!”
The riders turned their mounts toward the north, kicked their animals in the flanks, and yelled, “Heeya!”
Constan brought his own mount to a halt, and watched as Damir’s men skillfully led the damned horde off to the north. As they did so, hundreds of the damned fell to the regular stream of arrows fired at them. His lips curled into a grin, “Brilliant! He’s leading them away.”
Constan, eager to get a closer look, kicked his white and gray dappled charger in the flanks and yelled, “Heeya!”
The animal, still breathing hard from the long ride, and covered in sweat, began trotting in the direction of Damir. Constan, irritated at the exhausted animal’s pace, slapped it on the rump and yelled, “Go damn ye!”
Sensing his frustration, the horse increased its speed and within moments, the wind roared in Constan’s ears once again. Damir, maybe a mile distant, could faintly be heard as he bellowed the order to halt, turn, and fire, to his men. As Constan rode, another volley of arrows lanced out from Damir’s riders and slammed into the oncoming horde. Dozens of the damned dropped to the ground, despite their losses the horde ran toward their tormentors undeterred by their mounting losses. All shared a single thought, feed on living flesh.
As Constan drew even with the horde a few dozen yards to his right, several of the unholy minions of Satan noticed his proximity and changed direction toward him. Uh oh. He thought to himself. His horse, exhausted from all of the hard riding, chose that moment to begin to slowing.
Dozens more of the damned noticed him and joined the putrid masses giving chase. The fastest ones coming in at an angle began to close the distance between themselves and Constan. As the creatures closed in on his position, his mount’s last bits of strength began to ebb and they slowed further.
They’re going to catch me. Constan thought to himself. Desperate, to get away, he pulled on his left rein and changed direction. His horse now moved off to the west directly away from the horde, but it wasn’t enough. As the animal slowed further, exhausted from the hard riding, the damned reached him. He pulled on the right rein of the horse, drew his Spatha, and brought it down toward the head of the first damned to catch him.
The damned that attacked Constan was a horror to behold. The flesh of the former man’s face had rotted away, so that he had a permanent leer. The tattered rags that covered the man’s ill-smelling body barely kept his modesty and gave no clues as to his profession when alive. Those tatters of material looked like they had been smeared with the blood of his victims. With a dull smack Constan’s Spatha crushed the top of the man’s skull. The forever dead corpse collapsed to the ground and was instantly replaced by three more damned.
The first, a female wearing the torn and frayed habit of a nun, reached toward his horse. He brought his blade down severing her arms at the elbows. Quickly reversing the direction of the blade, he brought it back up, at a man that was inches away from biting his leg. The blade cleaved through the man’s chin and continued upward slicing the skull in half.
As the corpse collapsed to the ground, he brought the blade back toward the armless nun, who had pushed forward to bite his horse. The blade, now descending, smashed into the top of her skull. Bits of bone and brain matter flew as a purple fountain of fluid erupted from her shattered head.
With the immediate threat eliminated, Constan looked up to ascertain th
e situation. Dozens of damned were but a few feet away as they reached toward him. The sounds of many of pairs of teeth coming together created a loud cacophony of click, click, click noise, as the owners of those teeth drew near to his living flesh.
Desperate, Constan smacked the back of his horse with the flat of his blade, dug his spurs into the side of the beast, and yelled, “For the love of God, run!”
The beast, perhaps sensing its own end if it dawdled any, instantly leapt forward into a full gallop. The closest damned, desperate to fill its maw and relieve its hunger, if only for an instant, hurled itself at the horse’s rump. Nearly fleshless hands managed to grab hold of the animal’s long tail and began pulling itself upward. The horse, crying out in pain at the extra weight pulling on its tail, stopped and reared upward.
Constan, grasping at the reins to stay in the saddle as the horse stood on its hind legs, looked back into the eyes of the damned, now laying on its back on the ground. Fetid breath washed over him as the damned roared in frustration at being denied its meal of horseflesh. As it placed its arms on the ground to begin standing, a horse hoof struck it in the bottom of its chin. The head of the unholy minion of Satan was separated from its neck by the blow, and bounced along the ground for thirty feet or so before coming to a rest.
As Constan’s horse’s front hooves struck the ground, he kicked the animal in the sides and yelled, “Run!”
The animal, sensing its chance to get away from the undead horrors closing in, rallied and took off into a full gallop. The cries of the hungry damned faded as the animal ran westward at full speed. As soon as the walking corpses faded from view and their putrid smell abated, Constan brought the animal to a stop.
Dismounting, he walked around to the front and took the horse’s long snout into his hands, “Ye fatigue and my obliviousness to it was almost the end of us back there. I’ve never had much chance to get good at riding, but I promise ye this. I will never ignore the signs ye are giving me that you need to rest again. I am eternally grateful for ye finding the strength to escape. In honor of that strength, I hereby name ye, Viribus.”
Viribus, responded by sticking out its tongue and licking Constan from the bottom of his chin to the top his forehead. He broke out into a laugh as he wiped the horse saliva from his face, “Ye like that name eh?”
Viribus, whinnied in response, “Good, I think the name strength in my native Latin tongue suits ye.”
Constan looked off toward the north east. The faint sound of yelling could be heard, I’d best not waste the opportunity that Damir’s quick thinking and heroics is buying us.
He turned back to Viribus and asked, “Do ye think ye have enough left to get me back to the army quickly? We need to get them moving while the horde is being distracted.”
Viribus, nudged Constan’s hand in response, “Oh, ye want a snack do ye?”
Constan walked around to Viribus’ side, reached into a saddle bag, and produced an apple. He walked back to stand in front of Viribus, placed the apple on his upward turned palm, and held it out to the horse. Viribus opened his mouth and gently grabbed the apple from Constan’s palm. The beast crunched the fruit contentedly and swallowed.
Constan scratched the spot in-between the horse’s eyes. The beast groaned in ecstasy at the touch, “All right then, enough of that, let’s be off.”
Constan pulled himself up into the saddle, loosened the reins, and smacked Viribus gently on the rump while yelling, “Run boy!”
Within a handful of long steps to build up speed, the wind once again whistled in his ears, as Viribus flew across the land. In a short twenty minutes the distance to the 5th Babylon was covered. As he approached, he saw that his orders were being followed to the letter. The men were digging a ditch four hundred feet wide and using the dirt to erect an eastward facing earthen wall.
Constan was recognized as he approached by the pickets and allowed through unchallenged. As he drew near the toiling men, Hovig rode out to meet him. He smiled in greeting and said, “Welcome back, sir. What news?”
“Damir is leading the horde off to the north with his men. Cease building the fort and get everyone lined back up in column of sixes. We are going to double time it until we are safely past this horde.” Constan replied.
Hovig saluted and turned his horse back toward the encampment while saying, “At once, sir!”
Constan spotted Athos, still mounted on his horse. He was riding slowly up and down the line of men digging the ditch and yelling encouragement. Constan tugged on his right rein and kicked Viribus lightly in the side. The animal began walking in the direction indicated. As he drew near to Athos Constan said, “Athos.”
Athos turned his own horse to face Constan saluted and said, “Aye, sir?”
“I need you to ride off to the north east. You will encounter a horde of the damned moving north. Don’t get too close. That mistake nearly cost me my life. Ride around it to the north side and get into contact with Damir. Give him my warmest regards for his quick thinking in leading the horde away and inform him that we are going to double time it past and continue marching all night. He is to meet us on the south side of Lydad on the morrow as the sun reaches its zenith. Questions?”
Athos shook his head and said, “No, sir.”
Constan smiled, “Good lad. Now repeat back what I have told ye.”
Athos repeated back Constan’s message nearly word for word. The one-eyed man smiled and said, “Right then, off with ye.”
Athos smacked his horse on the rump, and quickly disappeared over the horizon. Within ten minutes the sweaty men of the 5th Babylon where lined up in column of six formation. At the head of the column Constan drew his Spatha, raised it into the sky, and then lowered it toward the eastern horizon and yelled, “5th Babylon forward at the double!”
The men began moving forward at a trot. They continued at this pace for several hours until Constan was confident that they had passed by the horde. At that point, he gave the order to halt. He allowed the men to rest for about fifteen minutes before ordering them forward once again, this time at a normal marching pace. The exhausted formation pressed on throughout the night.
As the sky the above the eastern horizon began to pale, Athos caught up with the formation and quickly located Constan. Constan could see the exhaustion in Athos’ eyes as the Kentarches approached he asked, “What news lad?”
Athos saluted and began speaking, “Sir, Damir led the hungry bastards about twenty miles to the north.
Constan smiled, “Good news. Did ye deliver my message?”
Athos nodded, “Aye. Damir is going to break contact with the damned bastards by riding off to the north, and then circling back around the horde. He can make the rendezvous south of Lydad as you instructed by noon, but his men and mounts will need rest when they arrive.”
“Makes sense, this lot looks close to collapsing to the ground and falling asleep. I fear they will not have the strength to build a marching fort when we arrive at our destination. I guess we’ll just have to risk remaining exposed until they get some sleep.” Constan said.
As they approached the city of Lydad from the west, the 5th Babylon changed their direction of march to southeastward in order to move around the city at a safe distance and reach the rendezvous point. The city loomed as a distant shadow against the pale pre-dawn sky. They reached the rendezvous point just as the Sun broke the horizon. Luckily, they were able to circle around the city without encountering any of the damned.
Constan ordered that the men be formed up into a loose square before they were allowed to collapse to the ground. The officers, mounted on their horses, stood watch over the slumbering Tourma as the Sun slowly climbed into the sky. Once the yellow orb began to descend from its zenith, a dull rumble could be heard off to the northwest.
Constan yelled, “Get them up!” In a voice that was just loud enough for the thirty officers standing watch to hear him. The thirty-one Kentarches, including Athos, and Droungarios Hovig worked to rouse th
e men. With much groaning, stretching, yawing, and the occasional act of flatulence the men were torn from their slumber.
Once they were awoken Constan ordered, “Form battle line by Kentarchia facing northwest.”
The men quickly fell into the familiar squares of their Kentarchias as they drew themselves up facing to the northwest. Each Kentarchia presented a front that was two Kontoubernions wide and five deep. Thanks to the casulties they suffered while landing at Joppa they could not form perfect squares.
Within a few minutes of waking, the well drilled Skutatoi of the 5th Babylon were, formed up and ready for battle, the men stood nervously as they awaited the oncoming body. Athos, who sat atop his horse next to Constan and Viribus said, “I’m sure it’s Damir and his riders.”
“Let us hope so. By the noise of it, if that is a horde coming, then it must number in the tens of thousands.” Constan replied.
Time slid by slowly as the men of the 5th Babylon waited for the source of the noise to appear. As they did so, the sound grew louder, and they could see plumes of dust rising in front of them. Soon, the sound of individual hooves striking the ground could be made out. A few moments later, Damir’s riders appeared out of the clouds of dust thrown into the air.
A palpable sense of relief washed over the men of the 5th Babylon as their comrades came into view. “They seem to have taken some casulties.” Hovig remarked.
Constan nodded in agreement, “Aye, it seems they have lost one man in five.”
“They must have made some mistakes as they tired and ran out of arrows.” Athos said.
Constan sighed deeply, “We’re barely halfway to Jerusalem and already we have lost a thousand of our men.”
Athos maneverured his horse close in beside Constan’s and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder to comfort him, “Yes, but in many ways it’s a miracle we’ve made it this far. Those men that survived Joppa are now veterans in the ways of the damned and will fall at a much slower rate when next we face off against them. Even these more intelligent and better organized versions still can’t standup to an experienced Kentarchia of Skutatoi working together.”
Byzantium Infected Box Set Page 85