Empire Of The Undead (20 page)

CHAPTER XXIII

Brundisium: 88 CE, Winter

It had not been easy to convince the Dacians that their leader had changed into a monster, but Iullianus had managed it. “He must,” Iullianus had said, “have taken a wound in the battle and not told anyone. Only his great strength kept him alive as long as it did.”  The stunned Dacians had banded together under Diegis—a sturdy bear of a man, who promised to lead them to safety.

There were not any warriors to spare, but Iullianus had convinced Natopurus to come with them. Rowanna came as well—the idea of being a childless mother, surrounded by others’ children, made her feel too sad and too old. They came down the Carpathian Mountains and a week later, crossed the Donaris river, traveling south into Moesia. It was a strange land, full of Thracians, Dacians, and others that spoke a language that none could identify. It had been recently reorganized by the Romans. The roads were good, there were soldiers everywhere, and forts they could sleep at every night.

With Iullianus’ help, they’d entered the tiny town of Salmydessos, and within a few days, found a ship willing to take them across the Adriatic. Neither of the Dacians had been on a ship of any size before. At first, it had been a marvel. The sea had been a shade of blue that Rowanna had never seen before—like the sky on the clearest of summer days, but richer and more vibrant. The waters turned rough the first night and she was violently sick for the remainder of the journey.

They had landed in a busy port city called Brundisium late in the evening two days later. It was huge—far bigger than Sarmizegetusa, though vastly more dirty and more violent as well. Danger lurked palpably on the streets. There were more people living in the town than perhaps all of Dacia, Rowanna suspected. It was full of travelers who were on their way to or from Greece and further east. They had found a room at a cheap tavern, and Rowanna had fallen asleep immediately, before dinner. She had barely managed to sleep on the ship, and welcomed the bliss of dry, steady land. The other two had come to the room after she had fallen asleep and had shared the other bed.

When they awoke the next day, the city gates were closed. A Roman army had crept up in the night and besieged them, and none were allowed to enter or leave the city. Rowanna had laughed when she heard. Natopurus had been furious, as had Iullianus, who had that morning immediately gone to the Forum and presented himself to the Senate.

He met Rowanna and Natopurus on the city walls later that afternoon. From their high vantage point, they could see the army camped out on the frozen ground before them. Behind the besieging legion was the Via Appia, which led straight to Rome.

Rowanna wrapped her arms around her knees. The wind had a chill to it and at their height, it blew more steadily. A movement caught her eye, as Iullianus was climbing up the stairs to the wall. As he approached them, his sad smile and slight head shake told them everything.

“They wouldn’t listen to you?” Rowanna asked.

His slight head shake and frown answered the question for them.

“They told me no, by Mithras. Can hardly blame them, cockless old bastards though they were. I don’t look like your average Roman.”

“Not to mention,” added Natopurus, “that a commander with no army is no commander at all.”

“There is that, too,” Iullianus conceded. “I doubt much that my appearance or lack of army mattered. The decree has come directly from the Emperor. I inferred we are not in the only city that has been closed.”

“What will we do?” Rowanna asked. It seemed ludicrous to have come so far only to fail now.

“After the Senate, I reconnoitered the city’s gates, thinking we could bribe or kill our way out.”

“And?” Natopurus asked.

“No chance. There are far too many soldiers posted at each.”

“Well,” said Natopurus, stroking his long beard, “the solution is clear. We cannot leave on the ground, so we shall leave by air. I’ll go make a potion.”

“What?” Rowanna said.

“That is a fantastic idea,” Iullianus said. The other two looked at him.

“I mean the part about not leaving on the ground, not the flying bit. Even Zuste could not have done that.”

“Zalmoxis’ cock. I’m the best alchemist there is, far better than that herb-collector, but I cannot do the impossible.”

“When the dead walk,” Rowanna said, “impossible is not a word with much meaning.” 

“It is true that we cannot fly. Nor can we walk,” Iullianus said.

“So what will we do?” Natopurus asked.

“The docks,” Rowanna said, though the idea of getting back on a boat to her was about as loathsome as she could imagine.

“Clever girl. We have to get out of this city, and there just may be a pirate who will take us.”

“I want to go,” said Rowanna.

“Me too,” Natopurus growled.

“Impossible. I am conspicuous enough as it is. Escorting a walking beard and a fair-haired foreigner—it’s asking to be noticed. Meet me back at the tavern tonight.”  He stood, his lean body already moving into action.

The Dacians descended the steep steps more slowly, and behind and beyond them, the Roman army waited with the patience of a corpse.

****

When Iullianus entered the tavern that night, he was beaming. He found the Dacians sitting at a table covered with plates of bread and fish. They ate in the Roman style, with their hands. The part of table not covered with food was instead devoted to beer and wine. The two had, it was apparent, been drinking for no small time. The tavern was filling up slowly as night settled over the city.

“Well,” Rowanna asked, “what happened?”

“I’ll answer your question with one of mine. Who is the greatest man to have ever lived?”

“Ever?” Rowanna asked. “Probably Spargapeithes, the greatest King the Dacians have ever known.”

“Hmm,” Iullianus said. “Could he have secured a boat out of a city closed by the Emperor himself?”

“No,” put in Natopurus. “He probably would have just killed everyone who got in his way, the legion included.”

Iullianus scowled at the two of them. “Perhaps I’m not as great as your greatest King. When it comes down to it, I’m no Nechtan the Great either, but I did find us a ship.”

“Amazing,” Natopurus said. “You are a hero of the ages.”

“When do we leave?” Rowanna asked.

“Early tomorrow morning, on the first tide.”

“It’s evening now,” Natopurus observed, “what shall we do until then?”

“You can do as you like,” replied Iullianus. “As for me, my plans should soon be evident.
Corripe Cervisiam
!” he added, illustrating his words by seizing a beer from the table and downing it in moments.

“You don’t drink like a Roman,” Natopurus said.

Iullianus put his beer down to the table slowly. “I may grow tired of saying this someday: I am no Roman. My people live as far away from Rome as you, and maybe further even, because you cannot reach us by land. We have our own battles with the Romans.”
“Then why would you ever serve them,” cried Natopurus exasperatedly. “If you’re one of us, you don’t act like it.”

“I was taken at a young age,” Iullianus said with a shrug. “I can scarce remember my parents or village.”

“We can teach you some of our customs,” Rowanna said. “For instance, Dacians have the best drinking games.”

“Who needs a game when you’ve got a beer?” he asked.

“This might not be the right time, Rowanna,” Natopurus added.

She wanted to see this through. She raised her drink into the air with her right hand, and at Natopurus with her left. “Three, two one,” she called. By habit, she spoke in Dacian.

“Let’s speak in Latin for the benefit of our pupil,” Natopurus chided.

“Tres, duo, unos,” she said with exaggerated pronunciation, again pointing at the alchemist. Natopurus chanted quickly and pointed to Iullianus.

“Three, two, one,” he said, “what?” he asked, as both smirked at him.

“Drink!” they exclaimed. “You didn’t point.”

“I don’t think I have the best teachers,” he said, drinking deeply from his beer.

As loser, Iullianus had to pick the next game. He chose one that involved flipping his dagger into the air and catching it. The Dacians chose to drink rather than to attempt such a maneuver.

Others in the bar quickly joined them. It did not take long for Rowanna’s head to spin, but Natopurus earned the most drinks. It seemed he was as unlikable to Romans as he was to his own people. Many hours later, the alchemist stumbled up and fled out the door.

Knowing laughter followed him out. Rowanna sidled up to Iullianus. “I need to sleep,” she told him.

He slowly focused on her. “I will take you. You don’t know what dangers might be lurking.”

“Gratias,” she said, sipping from the bottle of fieldberry wine in her hand. She offered some to Iullianus, who poured a large amount down his throat.

“For something that isn’t beer, it tastes pretty damned good,” he said.

He led her back to her room, his arm wrapped around her waist. Her body tingled at his touch. They entered the shared room and both paused, awkwardly.

“We had better leave the door open,” Iullianus said. “Natopurus will be back soon and we wouldn’t want to make him think…” 

Rowanna dropped her clothes to the ground. “Make him think what?” she asked, stepping into his embrace.

Iullianus leaned down and kissed her. Without looking, he pushed the door shut with one hand. She heard the bolt drop, securing them away from the world. His other wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer. They kissed with fevered intensity for a few moments. She could feel her excitement deep within her stomach. He then leaned down and took her nipples in his mouth. Her breasts were not as high as they had once been and her nipples were quite small compared to most women, but his tongue and lips made her feel incredibly turned on. As his tongue moved from one breast to the other, the big man slipped out from under his clothing to stand before her.

She had never seen a cock like his. It strained and leapt into the air with the energy of an unbroken colt. It excited and terrified her at the same time.

She didn’t remember lying on the bed, only remembered the feeling as he first slid into her. They both cried out, as he slid deep into her wet hole. There was no time for niceties. Instead he pulled her legs up, so that one rested on each of his shoulders, and fucked her as hard as he could.

A loud banging noise was coming from somewhere, and the small sober part of her still cognizant of the world, knew they were both screaming, moaning like the undead, but she didn’t care. She loved how she felt, wanted it never to end. Iullianus was pumping her more rhythmically now, pulling out quickly and then slowly thrusting in.

A loud knocking sounded again at the door. She realized it was the banging she had been hearing.

“Let me in!” Natopurus yelled from outside.

Iullianus froze, his turgid cock poised at the edge of her spread lips.

“Don’t stop,” Rowanna begged him. “Please don’t stop.”

He nodded to her. “Apage!  Go away!” he called out. “Come back later.” He thrust hard, sliding as deep as he could into her. Suffering from pleasure, she cried out hoarsely.

“Let me in!” Natopurus cried out. “It’s my room too.”

Iullianus paused for a moment, and then his big hands reached down and turned her around. She was facing away from him, looking toward the wall. She felt each of his hands grab her waist and then he slid into her, even deeper than before. Her head was spinning, and she didn’t have long. She pushed back as hard as she could, clamping down on his cock every time it entered her.

His breathing changed and he started fucking her both faster and harder than he had before. One of his hands slipped down and fondled her breast, grasping her nipple roughly. It was too much, and suddenly Rowanna was screaming with pleasure as the orgasm punched through her. Seconds later, waves of pleasure still rippling through her, Iullianus growled and spurted his seed deep into her. “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” she crooned, knowing only that this was the only thing in the world that mattered.

They fell down together. Within seconds, both of them had passed out.

****

Rowanna awoke the next morning to the sound of rain. She rose gingerly from the bed and looked out the small window to see that a dreary grey mist had swallowed the city, though it was not raining hard. It was quiet and there were very few people yet awake.

She examined herself carefully. She was still naked, and felt very sticky. Her legs had finger-sized bruises where the big man had gripped her. Her breasts hurt from being tugged and her cunny was immensely sore. Iullianus had been more animal than man.

She looked to him. Iullianus still slept, stretched out in the bed like a sleeping cat. She smiled, slowly remembering the events of the previous night.

And then her heart started racing as she remembered Natopurus. “Oh no,” she whispered. She went to the door, still nude, and unlocked it. She opened it slowly. There was no one there.

“What are you doing?” Iullianus asked from behind her. His voice was foggy with sleep.