Steam Legion (13 page)

Prosephus was the last, so far as he knew, and it was with great and growing joy that he saw the temple loom so large over him as he put one foot on the steps and collapsed.

“Clear the way.”

The authoritative voice caused him to look up, and his eyes widened as he recognized Zadok the Pharisee stepping slowly down toward him.

“Who are you?”

Prosephus struggled to move enough just to prostrate himself. “A loyal soldier.”

“What happened to you?”

“I was with the group commanded by Amichai of Gamala,” he gasped out. “We succeeded in entering the walls of Alexandria as planned…inside…”

Prosephus started to shake uncontrollably, his hands and legs refusing to bend to his will.

“Inside what? What of Amichai?”

“Crucified,” Prosephus croaked out, hugging himself as he shook. “The demons…”

Men and woman fell back from him, though Zadok stood his ground and merely glowered.

“What demons? Speak!”

“Demons of Alexandria… They took the form of Spartan warriors of ages long past.” Prosephus shuddered and stuttered as he spoke. “Accompanied by great whirlwinds that tore men limb from limb, they haunted us…hunted us. We fled, but one by one we were killed… I…I am the—”

An arrow whistled through the air, slicing down and perforating the still prostrate man through his lower body. The head of the blade tore through flesh, into his intestines and kidney, spilling his blood as it was driven clear through to his front. He fell forward, onto the tip, and drove it back into his abdomen as he lay there, bleeding out.

Zadok was pulled back, surrounded by his men, but no more arrows fell from the sky. It was several moments before anyone even thought to look to the wounded man, and so by the time they did, they found him dead.

“The arrow was fatal,” a guard said, “but not immediately. It was aimed to provide him a painful, lingering death. He only died quickly because he was so weak. I would bet on it.”

Zadok shook his head. “The Lord has more love for His children than that. This man delivered His message unto us, and then He took him into the kingdom of heaven to save him the agony our enemies intended. Take the body and prepare him for burial. We will honor this man, for he warned us of a great evil in Alexandria.”

The guards nodded seriously, trying to ignore the many people who were praying for protection and deliverance as the word “demons” began to spread through the crowd.

“Is that a Roman arrow, Cyrus?” Zadok asked, his tone deceptively calm as he looked at the black arrow standing from the fallen man’s back.

The guard stepped closer, kneeling by the body to examine the shaft closer. Finally he grimaced and cast the arrow to the dirt. “Yes. It has been…colored, but it is of Roman make.”

“What was used to color it?”

“Blood.”

****

“That was a fated shot, Carran.”

Carran lowered his bow, sighing happily through bared teeth. It had been two long days, but they’d finished the mission as assigned. “The Lady asked that the last of them die on the steps of the temple. Her will be done.”

The scout trio nodded, turning back from their position as Curran tossed his bow and quiver. They were within the enemy lines, and now the job was to escape with their lives so they could enjoy what glory came from this mission. Eliminating the last of the invaders, practically in the arms of his superiors, that was a story worth telling, and it would earn them more than a few drinks. Of that they were certain. But of course, they had to escape first.

“Do you think this will stop them from coming back to Alexandria?” asked Said Shinar, glancing over his shoulder as they faded into the crowds and made their way out of the city of Jerusalem.

“All I can say for certain, Said,” Carran shrugged as he replied, “is that if they come back, they’ll be looking over their shoulders and jumping at every shadow the entire way there.”

The three chuckled darkly, all of them quite certain of that particular truth. They’d made the distance from Alexandria to Jerusalem in just over six days. That was a hard march, even by Legion standards, but for the men they’d been chasing, it had to be nothing short of their very own hell come to earth.

While the Legion had marched almost without pause, the enemy had run in multiple terror flights, punctuated by brief periods of rest where they were almost certainly doing anything but resting. More than a few had literally died on their feet, their bodies being found by the Legionnaires as they marched, and many others had collapsed and been easily dispatched in passing. With no time to take prisoners, the orders on enemy soldiers were quite clear, so they’d left a string of bodies along the road most of the way back to Alexandria.

The last leg was left to a scout team, Carran and his partners, Said and Nicola. They’d been able to slip into the city with a caravan of supplies that had apparently managed to get past the Legion blockades. It wasn’t that surprising, since the city itself wasn’t under siege yet. There would always be someone willing to run supplies to enemies of the Empire. It was a good thing for them, since it let them slip in to complete the Lady’s orders, but Carran supposed that it would be giving the Legion headaches into the future.

“They’re stockpiling food.” Nicola glanced to the left as they passed a warehouse.

Carran nodded. “They’re expecting the Legion. Soon, too.”

“Where do you suppose the Twenty-Second is?”

Carran shook his head, eyes flitting around as he spotted some men in armor heading for one of the walls. “North of here, last I heard. Probably putting down another set of attacks closer to the capital.”

“I see siege engines, Carr.”

“I see them,” Carran said without turning to look again. “More soldiers along the west wall. Looks like they’re tripling up on the normal watch.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I spent eight months walking that wall before I was sent to Alexandria,” he said. “When we walk out, look to see if they’re mining the approach.”

The other two nodded their agreement. Mining the approach was a way to keep siege engines from rolling up to the walls, generally by digging weakly reinforced tunnels that could handle the weight of men but not the larger mass of siege towers and other devices. It was difficult and dangerous work but, done properly, could cost the Legion a massive amount of time and effort, not to mention lives and lost equipment.

By the time they got to the main gate, there were guards crawling over the area, and that meant that the fun part of the job was just beginning. They walked calmly, as confidently as they could, heading for the gate on a direct course. Skulking about would get them picked up in an instant, so they moved without fear, talking and joking with each other in Hebrew as they walked.

The gate guards were more interested in the sudden influx of soldiers from the city center to pay attention to a trio of grubby looking peasants, but they did endure a little scrutiny from the soldiers before they were allowed through. Outside the gates, they continued their casual walk, chatting well until they were out of sight of the city.

About two mile markers along the southern road, they got off the road and headed west toward Alexandria. The rest of the squad was waiting for them when they rejoined the road another few hours’ march along.

They were greeted by Immune Sevarus, who had commanded the entire run. “Ho! Did you fare well?”

“The Lady’s will was done.”

“Good. Excellent, even. Well done, the three of you.” Sevarus greeted each of them in turn.

“We noted as we were exiting the city, Immune, that they’re putting in supplies for siege.”

Sevarus was unsurprised. “The Israelites must know that Rome will retaliate and that the Twenty-Second is not far. Likely they will be under siege afore the month is out.”

“Yes, but they’re mining the approaches to the walls.”

The Immune grimaced but nodded. “Very well. We’ll dispatch a runner.”

Carran volunteered. “I’ll do it, Immune. The Twenty-Second should be to the north. I can find them.”

“As you will it, then. Go in the morning, after some rest and a meal,” Sevarus told him. “We’ve no reason to break our souls any longer with nonstop marching. The Twenty-Second will survive a few hours longer without you, I’m certain.”

“No doubt, Immune,” Carran chuckled. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It just means you’ll miss the celebrations when we return to Alexandria,” Sevarus told him, grinning. “Come, tell me your story before you leave, so I’ll know what lies to claim as my own.”

The men laughed freely, the tension and stress of the past week lifting from them, and they headed back into the woods where they had prepared their campsite. It had been a long time since the night of steel and flames, the night when the Lady had kept them from abandoning honor for lives and managed to somehow pull victory from certain defeat.

They all had things to be grateful for and stories they wanted to tell, so while the absence of liquor was a pity, they would make do with water and march rations and be grateful indeed that they had that much. Stories, tall tales, and flat out lies of their deeds over the past week would suffice in the place of alcohol. Each of them would make certain of that indeed.

Section Two–We Are Legion

Chapter 11

Tribunus Militum Laticlavius Gordian was a tall man, though not so much as some born to the north. His position as the day-to-day Commander of the Twenty-Second Deiotanera Legion had been an appointment by the Senate, but it was one he had taken as seriously as any man might have. This current assignment to the east of the Empire bothered him, however, and he was now a little worn and frayed about the edges as he pored over the latest dispatches from Rome and reports from the field.

He looked up as his aide entered the tent, stiffening to salute. The man was a veteran of many campaigns and had been of inestimable value to Gordian as he learned the ways of the Legion, so he quickly slapped his own fist across his chest and nodded to the older man. “What is it, Centurion?”

The Centurion relaxed. “Runner just arrived from Alexandria, Tribunus.”

Gordian stepped away from the campaign table, turning his focus entirely onto the Centurion. “What news does he bring?”

“The Zealots sacked the city.”

“What?” Gordian blared. “Bring him in here!”

“Runner!”

The man had apparently been waiting just outside and stepped in without delay. He saluted too, but Gordian impatiently waved him off.

“Speak, man. What has happened?”

“Zealots mounted an assault on Alexandria three weeks past, Tribunus,” the runner announced as if he weren’t dropping a hungry tiger amongst the condemned. “They must have gotten men in during the day. The Governor was found dead after the battles, and we lost most of the Cohort during the night.”

“By the Emperor,” Gordian swore, glaring at the ground as he slowly shook his head. “I told the Legatus that we hadn’t left enough men.” He snapped up, still glaring to cool a man’s blood, and fixed his gaze on the runner. “What of the city then? How much was destroyed, how many died?”

“Final counts weren’t completed when I was ordered to find you, Tribunus.” The runner shook his head. “Much burned before we could repel the Zealot forces, but it could have been worse.”

Gordian frowned but nodded absently. “Who was in command of the Garrison?”

“Tribunus Octave, but he was killed before the attack. There was no command at first, until the Lady Dyna of Sparta and Centurion Cassius rallied the Garrison and Auxilliaries under their command to defend the Library.”

Gordian thought for a moment. “Dyna of Sparta? I believe I’ve seen her about the Library, once or twice.”

“She is Master Heron’s student,” the runner confirmed.

Gordian frowned pensively. He remembered now. There had been a minor scandal when Heron took on a woman as his student, enough that her name became moderately well known in Alexandria. He’d never met the woman personally, but he supposed she had to have something going for her to garner the support of a man of Heron’s stature.

Though, were he honest with himself, he had probably assumed that the old man wanted her as a serving girl. A man of his stature could always order in a slave, however, so he supposed that she must have had something more that looks to attract his attention.

“Cassius?” he said finally. “In charge of the Third Cohort?”

“Yes, Tribunus.”

“Good man, as I recall. I promoted him myself after a battle to the south,” Gordian said after a moment.

The runner remained still, perhaps not knowing what to say.

“What did Dyna of Sparta have to do with it?”

“She commanded us, Tribunus.”

Gordian shot him a sharp, penetrating look. “She? Not Cassius?”

“Centurion Cassius managed the men, Tribunus, but it was the Lady who gave us our orders and organized the defense.”

A lot more than mere looks, then,
Gordian supposed. Some might have heard that she was of Sparta and taken that as explanation, but he’d been to Laconia more than once in the past and hadn’t walked away impressed. Sparta might once have been a center of martial might, but today it was little more than a hedonist’s stop masquerading as something military.

“Tell me of the battle,” he ordered finally, having decided that he didn’t know enough to decide anything.

The runner looked about nervously and began to speak.

****

“We can’t make it any larger, my Lady,” the craftsman said, practically pleaded, under Dyna’s glower. “It may be too large now. The wheels can’t take the weight.”

Dyna glared for a while longer, but her heart wasn’t really in it. The man was right and she knew it. The chariot wheels were simply not able to handle the weight of the armor, weapons, and impetus mechanism. She had so wanted to make Master Heron’s God chariot into something of practical use, but there were limits to the materials they had available.

“Fine,” she sighed, “leave this for now. I am going to rethink the design. For the moment I want you and the others to focus on building more of the new variation on the dragon’s breath.”