Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 1

by J. Clifton Slater

  “In there,” his escort instructed.

  If it was a cell, his jailers didn’t know what they were doing. First off, the door was constructed of stretched leather. He could easily rip the material off the frame. But where would he go? Secondly, they hadn’t taken his gladii or his knife.

  A bed had been chiseled out of the stone, a bedroll lay on one end, and a burning torch lit the small room. He laid on the stone and closed his eyes.

  A noise caused him to look as the flimsy door opened. Two men walked in with trays. Behind the men, faces peering in lined the entire door frame.

  “Refreshments, honey wine, and water,” one of the men stated as he and the other man set the trays on the bed. “You have time.”

  “Time for what?” Alerio asked. The men didn’t answer. They walked out shutting the door behind them.

  Alerio, being a young guy, was always hungry. He tossed back the cloth covers and dug into the food. The best part he decided was the honey in the clay pots. After eating, he stretched out and fell asleep.

  Act 8

  Chapter 76 - The Return of Four Nocte Apibus

  “Legionary. Awaken please,” a high-pitched voice announced.

  Alerio shook himself awake and sat up. The voice belonged to a lad about ten years old. He was standing close to the foot of the stone bed.

  “Good morning young man,” Alerio said with a smile. “Is it time?”

  “It is,” the lad replied as he walked to the doorway. “If you’ll follow me?”

  Alerio picked up on a bit of nervousness in the lad’s voice. But the little one didn’t display any outward sign of his apprehension as he marched steadily out of the cell. After all the faces peering in when the food was delivered, Alerio was surprised to find the tunnel empty.

  His small escort guided them up and down through new tunnels. Alerio was completely lost when the lad held aside another sheet of leather. For a heartbeat, the Legionary thought it led to another cell. It wasn’t.

  The circular room with the black sand floor could have been called an arena. Tiers of ledges circled the room. Over a hundred people sat quietly on those shelves watching the Legionary walk to the center of the sand. Some tiers were low enough to easily reach with a jump from the gritty floor. Others were so high, Alerio needed to crane his neck to see the upper level. It was a fighting pit, he decided.

  “Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera,” a voice called out. “Why have you invaded the Golden Valley?”

  Alerio spun around seeking the source. Three people occupied a wide space on the second tier. One stood in front of her chair and the other two were sitting in high-backed seats. Speckled Pheasant was one of them. The rebel raised a clay mug and saluted Alerio. After taking a drink, he smirked in an irritating I-told-you-so manner.

  The Legionary reached into the pouch and pulled out the four knives. With two in each hand, he held the Nocte Apibus above his head.

  “I’ve come to return, four Night Bees,” he announced.

  A murmur ran through the crowd.

  “And how did you come to have, four Nocte Apibus?” asked the woman.

  “I killed four of the Dulce Pugno,” stated Alerio. “and took their Nocte Apibus.”

  “Do you mean you were part of an Infantry squad?” the woman challenged. “A squad that caught our friends inside the Legion Post and killed them before taking the Night Bees?”

  “No, ma’am. I killed them single handedly,” Alerio boasted. “I alone killed your assassins.”

  More murmurs ran through the crowd. This time words rose above the buzzing. In essence, they all said the same thing, “Kill him. Kill him.”

  The woman sounded unsure about Alerio’s statement, “For now, it’ll stand as you state.” Then she looked around Speckled Pheasant and spoke to the man in the other chair. “Brother. By what terms did we commit ourselves to the contract.”

  The man on the rebel’s left stood and the woman sat. Speckled Pheasant glanced from side to side at the woman then at the man, obviously confused by the proceedings.

  “The Captain contracted for our services,” the man boomed so everyone on the ledges could hear him clearly. “He refused our first offer to use experienced craftsmen. Pleading low funds, the Captain negotiated with our representative. It was agreed upon to use four apprentices. Each apprentice would sting twice with the Nocte Apibus before leaving. These were the basic terms of the contract.”

  Speckled Pheasant’s head nodded enthusiastically all through the speech. The man sat and the original speaker stood. The revolutionary ceased his head movements and settled for glaring at Alerio.

  “There are no witnesses to consult, except for Decanus Sisera,” The woman said before asking. “Lance Corporal. What are your recollections of the events the night you captured four Nocte Apibus?”

  “I was walking a guard post. The guard on the next position failed to report,” Alerio described. “I left my post to check on him. When I tripped over the guard’s body, I shouted for reinforcements. That’s when I saw the shadows coming over the wall.”

  “Point of clarity, Decanus,” she asked. “They came over the wall? From outside or inside the Post?”

  “From outside the Post,” Alerio replied. “I saw their shapes because they were backlit by the lights from Crotone’s harbor. As I shouted for the Sergeant of the Guard, the four men attacked. Two came straight at me. For assassins, they lacked discipline and so they died. The other two divided, attempting to hit me from the sides. I downed one but lost my helmet. The last of your lads sliced my scalp before I could bring my blade around.”

  “You were wounded?” the woman asked. “Where?”

  Alerio pointed to his head and traced the half-moon scar with a finger.

  “Doctor. If you would?” she called out.

  From another entrance, a man walked briskly to the Legionary. He held the torch he carried over Alerio’s head and probed the scar tissue. Three times he traced the line of stitches using different pressures on each pass.

  “The scar is indeed the sting of a Nocte Apis,” the man announced before exiting as rapidly as he arrived.

  Again, restless mumbling rose from the tiers. The standing questioner leaned over and look past Speckled Pheasant’s belly.

  “Subtext?” she asked of the man on the other side of the rebel.

  “Yes. Two points,” the man on the renegade’s left side said as he stood. The woman sat down.

  “The Captain’s men were to remove the guards from the wall,” he reported. “Allowing our less experienced assets to infiltrate the Post. It appears this section of the agreement was not executed.”

  Speckled Pheasant shifted uncomfortably. Alerio enjoyed his uneasiness until the man continued with the second point.

  “Failure to clear the wall was a grievous breach of the contract,” the man stated. “Nevertheless, one guard should not have been a hindrance even given the youth of our dead. Therefore, it is my opinion the contact be voided and declared null with the Captain forfeiting his payment.”

  The man sat and his female counterpart on the other side of the rebel stood.

  “Are you in agreement with the findings, Captain?” she challenged.

  Speckled Pheasant sat thinking for several long moments. Maybe he could ask for a partial refund. After all, the man had said the one guard shouldn’t have been a problem. While he thought, he eyeballed the shadowy figures on the shelves around the dome and remembered he was as much a prisoner as a guest in the Golden Valley.

  “The terms of the contract shall be voided,” he announced. “May I go now?”

  “Not just yet, Captain,” the woman replied. “There is the matter of retribution for the lost Nocte Apibus.”

  Alerio tightened his back, expecting any second, the sharp pain from a spear or an arrow. With the revolutionary seemly off the hook, the price of retribution most certainly would be his life.

  “We test all who return a Nocte Apis,” the woman announced. “However, i
n all the years of the Dulce Pugno, never have we lost, and needed to recover four Night Bees.”

  The evil grin was back on Speckled Pheasant’s face. Alerio ignored the fat rebel and began exercises to loosen his shoulder muscles. If combat was the test, he might go down, but he’d go hard, taking as may assassins as possible with him.

  Chapter 77 - The Retribution Trial

  “All parties concerned have agreed to void the contract,” the woman explained. “There remains only the matter of the guards left on the wall. Were our apprentices unready for a mission beyond our Valley? Or, did they meet an unusually skilled swordsman?”

  A hush fell over the crowd and all eyes in the dome were on her.

  She inhaled deeply. As her chest fell from letting out the breath, she pronounced, “If they were ill trained, the fault is ours. The failure to remove a guard would have made no difference. Conversely, if the failure to remove the guard placed them in the path of a deadly warrior, the fault rests with the Captain. Therefore, Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera will be tested. If he truly is an exemplary fighter, he will pass the trial. In that case, he and the Captain will be free to go.”

  “But, if he fails,” the woman continued. “It proves the Dulce Pugno were not ready. This makes the removal of an ordinary soldier off the wall paramount to the successful completion of the contract. In that case, The Lance Corporal and the Captain will die.”

  Speckled Pheasant jumped up from the chair. “This isn’t part of our agreement,” he yelled. “Even if my men didn’t remove enough guards, I shouldn’t have my fate tied to the Legionary. He killed the Dulce Pugno. He took the Nocte Apibus. He should pay the price.”

  Alerio was struck dumb. His life or the dissent’s, he understood. Having both their lives depending on his success was confusing and somehow comforting. He gazed up at the antics of the fat man and laughed.

  “Sit down, Captain,” the woman ordered. Then she turned to Alerio and instructed. “Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera. Your test began earlier. Ponder this as you proceed with each coming phase.”

  Alerio began mentally retracing everything he had experienced since arriving at the Golden Valley. Nothing came to mind and his ponderings ended when hemp lines dropped from the dome above. He reached over his shoulders for the gladii.

  Five young lads came sliding down from the dark. They hit the sand too hard and each staggered from the impact. Alerio released his grip on the hilts. For a second, he almost went to help the awkward lads collect themselves.

  One at a time, they pulled foot long wooden tubes from their belts. One end of each tube was cut on a gradual angle. Not sharpened enough to stab with any efficiency and from the way they handled the wooden instruments, not heavy enough to use as clubs.

  The boys spread out in a semi-circle and advanced towards him. It was ridiculous. Alerio glanced behind and above to see if the little lads were a decoy for a deadlier attack. Nothing showed itself but, these were assassins, so in his cursory look, he might have missed something.

  Three of the lads had their wooden tubes held up as if to stab downward. He couldn’t help himself.

  “What manner of wood is that?” he demanded.

  “Bamboo,” two of them replied.

  “I’ve heard if this reed,” he said. “Now, switch your grips. In a knife fight, you wouldn’t have a chance to stab downward. You need to jab or slice your foe.”

  One of the boys held out his tube. Alerio took it and demonstrated the proper grip.

  “Stab or slice,” he said. “Also, feet, all of you stand with your feet a shoulder’s width apart. One foot should be slightly behind the other.”

  As if he were their instructor, they all fell into the correct fighting form.

  “Class is over,” he said. Then just to see how they would react, he ordered them. “Drop your weapons, and leave the dome.”

  The little ones marched by him setting down their weapons until he had a stack at his feet. Alerio glanced up at the woman and man on either side of Speckled Pheasant. Their expressions gave no clue if the little ones’ harmless assault was a part of the test or not.

  A sound carried across the pit. It resembled the noise made by handfuls of sand running between fingers. Alerio spun around to see four figures emerge from the black sandy floor. He hadn’t noticed any lumps or movement in the sand when he’d looked before.

  With both hands up ready to unsheathe his gladii, Alerio waited to see what form the attack would take. Bamboo poles, about six feet in length, were held above the heads of four lads. The boys were about twelve years old. He dropped his arms into an empty-handed guard position. The four assaulters spread out and moved forward until they surrounded the Legionary.

  From the high tier, Speckled Pheasant shouted, “Pull your swords, you idiot. Pull your swords and kill them. What is wrong with you? Kill them.”

  Alerio ignored the rebel. He could only see two of the attackers at a time but two was enough. A tiny nod from one and lip movements from the other tipped him off to their tactics.

  The nod started a countdown and the lip movements were the count. Alerio would know the order of attack once one moved. An almost imperceptible shuffle of sand identified the first attacker. He was behind and to Alerio’s right.

  Alerio waited until the shuffle revealed a full step. He dropped to one knee, reached over his head and caught the bamboo pole. By pulling the pole and the youth forward, he managed to capture the boy’s wrists. A jerk and the lad went flying over Alerio’s head. He landed hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs but not hard enough to break bones.

  The second attacker was in motion. He was to the Legionary’s left front. Again, the pole was caught, the wrists captured and the boy sent flying through the air.

  Alerio didn’t wait for the third attacker. He jumped at the lad to his right front and snatched the pole. A simple leg trip and the Legionary had spun away before the youth hit the gritty surface. The bamboo pole of the fourth attacker was knocked aside, and Alerio punched him in the chest with an open hand. The youth sailed back a couple of feet before plowing into the sand.

  After picking up all four poles, he stepped back so all the youths were in view.

  “You divulged your tactics by waiting for your formation to set,” Alerio explained. “If you had attacked before waiting for perfection, you might have succeeded. Four surrounding one opponent is unnecessary. Two to a side working together is more powerful than a crossed single attack.”

  To everyone in the dome’s surprise, he tossed the poles back to the startled youths.

  “Do it again. Attack me, two to a side,” he ordered. “Do not delay.”

  The lads didn’t. While Alerio received a few taps to his arms, the boys suffered the same fate as before. They all ended laying in the sand with their poles in the Legionary’s hands.

  “Better,” he informed them. “Next time have one come in high and the other attack low.”

  The youths jumped up and crowded together in front of the Legionary. They just stood there as if waiting for something.

  “Leave the dome,” Alerio instructed wondering if they would obey.

  The four lads scrambled for an exit tunnel leaving Alerio standing in the sand holding four bamboo poles. He stood baffled at the nature of the test, until a burning sensation tore down the back of his left arm.

  He did three things that saved his life. One, he didn’t waste time turning to see who or what had attacked him. Two, he swung the bamboo poles over his head. They connected with something as he did the third thing that saved his life. He kicked out a leg as he spun down to the sand. By rotating his body, the leg swept around and caught the attacker in the knees.

  The attacker continued jabbing with his knife as he went horizontal. It was a good tactic except Alerio had curled his upper torso to bring his arms and shoulders around. While the knife jabbed where his head should have been, Lance Corporal Sisera’s arm was inside the attacker’s forearm.

  Alerio’s el
bow followed the assassin to the sand and pounded into his chest, breaking a rib when he landed. After prying the knife from the attacker’s hand, Alerio hovered it over the man’s eye socket. He was a heartbeat and two inches from scrambling the man’s brain when Speckled Pheasant yelled.

  “Kill him. Kill him, yes, kill him,” the Captain screamed incessantly.

  Bile rose in the Legionary’s throat at the sound of the voice and the sour taste reminded him of how much he detested the renegade Captain. Alerio flipped the knife into the air, caught it by the hilt, and pounded the butt end into the attacker’s forehead. The man would have an epic headache tomorrow, but he would live.

  Alerio didn’t look up at the spectators while reaching around to check his wound. Instead, he began to slowly turn in circles while his fingers explored the injury. It was a long deep scratch. More than likely, the attacker had run at his back. His error was over extending the knife for the initial attack. Only the tip of the blade had touched the arm. It was enough to open a wound but the bleeding wasn’t the streaming flow he expected.

  Playtime was over. Alerio reached to his shoulders, gripped the hilts, and drew both gladii.

  “Who is next!” he shouted while holding out the blades. He continued turning and scanning the pit.

  Then, the crowd heard something funny. The Legionary was humming. They couldn’t tell what song as the tune had no rhythm nor did it follow any musical pattern. Nonetheless, the humming was soon accompanied by sword drills. They observed fascinated as the blades flashed faster and faster and Alerio flowed smoothly from one position to another.

  He wasn’t showing off or putting on a show. These were assassins, and as he experienced in the last attack, the next one could come from any direction.

  The assailant on the ground groaned and pushed up to his knees. Alerio strolled over and his blades blurred in circles on either side of the assassin’s head. Still, on hands and knees, the assassin looked from side to side at the spinning steel blades.