by R. W. Peake
"What do we do?" panted Domitius, and I glanced over to see him drop his shield, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.
"I don't know," I answered honestly.
At that moment, we were just two men and, because we were relatively motionless, we had not come to the attention of the Colapiani who were still unengaged at the back of their own mob. That, I knew, would not last.
Making a decision, I turned and pointed behind us, saying, "We go back up the slope, cut across behind this bunch, and go to where everyone else is and get help." I shook my head and finished, pointing down at the fighting, "Unless you have a better idea, because we're not getting anywhere near there. Not alive."
His face was completely shadowed, but I saw his head nod.
"You're right," he agreed. "So let's go get help." Thinking of something, he added, "We may run into one of the other boys on outpost, or maybe more than one."
That, I realized, was true, and the larger our numbers the better. Seeing no point in wasting our time or breath, we turned and climbed straight up the slope.
We did find the two men who had been put out as sentries by Tiburtinus closest to us on our side of the ravine, but they were in no shape to help. They were from the Fifth Section of the First, and both had their throats cut; even in the dark, we could see there had been no struggle.
"They must have fallen asleep," Domitius whispered and, no doubt, he was right.
Downslope to our right and now slightly behind us, the fighting was at a fever pitch, and I heard the blast of a bone whistle sounding the relief. Not knowing exactly what was happening, I took a small comfort that at least Tiburtinus was alive and in command. We continued moving parallel to the ravine, darting from one clump of trees to another or whatever underbrush provided the most cover, but twice I stumbled over a root or a rock; even with the moonlight, because of the foliage above us, very little of the light reached the ground. There would be small pools of silver light, which I took care to avoid, but the second time I tripped, I heard a hiss from behind me.
"Let me lead. You're too big to be stumbling around in the dark," Domitius whispered, and I was not inclined to argue.
There was a point where I became confused because, although the First and its fight was now behind us, some trick of the night wind made it sound as if it was coming from ahead of us instead. Trying to remember how far we had marched away from the main body, I tugged on Domitius' harness to stop him.
"Do you hear that?" I asked, and he cocked his head, then untied his thong to lift the earflap.
"It sounds like…" Still holding onto his harness, I felt him stiffen. "Pluto's cock! Titus, they're attacking the main body too!"
Despite it confirming my suspicions, a wave of despair hit me, and it was hard to think.
"We should at least get closer," I whispered, "and see what the situation is."
Again, he did not argue, and we resumed moving west. Reaching the spot where the ravine bent, I realized that had helped mask the sound, because now there was no mistaking the noises of another fight, a much larger one.
"Fuck me," Domitius breathed, and we were both so shaken that neither of us thought about keeping to the shadows, a beam of pure silver light bathing the both of us.
With his helmet on, and because the shadows at night are so much deeper, I could only see dark pools where his eyes were, but the downturned mouth summed up my feeling as well. Not knowing what else to do, I moved past him, retaking the lead, intent on getting at least a better idea about what was happening. Suddenly, a cornu blast sounded, and the cornicen had not even finished before we both recognized the signal.
"An orbis!"
I do not remember which of us said it, but what I do remember is that, once more, that black feeling of panic started to edge its way into my soul. It was only with a huge effort that I stuffed it down, yet even as the horn repeated the call, I resumed moving, toward the growing sounds of fighting.
"That bunch we saw must have only been part of them! That's the only way they would have enough men to force an orbis!" I heard Domitius whisper, and although I stifled my reply I was irritated that he was bringing up something that did not help us.
Because of the clamor down at the bottom of the hill, we did not have to worry about moving silently and, a moment later, we had drawn close enough so that when we looked carefully in that direction, we could see movement. However, we were still not close enough to pick out any individuals, so as if acting on their own, my feet began turning straight down the slope in order to close the remaining distance more quickly.
"Titus!" I heard Domitius hiss. "What are you doing? We shouldn't get any closer!"
I knew he was right, yet I still found myself moving in that direction, although I have no idea why I was doing so, because it would be certain death. Oh, if Domitius followed me, we could cut down a handful of barbarians from behind before they knew what was happening. But then some of them would turn around and, in a matter of heartbeats, we would be chopped into bloody bits. Nevertheless, I felt drawn down the hill by more than the normal force, reaching to draw my sword since I had dropped both javelins before we began running, when I was saved from the most unlikely source imaginable. Unexpectedly, directly behind us I heard a shout, except clearly in a barbarian tongue, and we both spun about. Domitius was about twenty feet back up the slope; he had clearly stopped following me to my death, but looking above him there was an unmistakable movement, accompanied by the crashing sound akin to that made by a large herd of animals, or a sizable group of men.
"Titus! Run!"
I barely caught a glimpse of what I thought were four or five men running abreast, the moonlight glinting on their raised swords and their helmets; an even more fleeting impression was that these men were not alone, but Domitius' warning had been like a slap in the face, so there was less than a heartbeat of hesitation as I followed him. Before I had any thought to do so, I was catching up to Domitius as we once more ran along the slope, heading back east in the direction from which we came. There is no good way to recount those frenzied moments as the pair of us began to run for our lives, quickly reaching full speed despite the darkness. Domitius discarded his shield, yet when I tried, my fingers would not uncurl enough, so the best I could do was hold my left arm away from my body as I tried to keep up with him.
The wind roaring in our ears did not drown out the savages giving chase cursing at us, or perhaps asking their gods to give them strength and speed to overtake us. Twice as we went dashing through the trees, weaving back and forth, one of the Colapiani threw a javelin at me, presumably while on the run as well. I caught a flicker of motion that streaked by me; the first buried itself in a tree trunk with a solid thudding sound loud enough for me to hear over everything else. Perhaps a dozen normal heartbeats later, another one shot by, except instead of landing solidly, it glanced off a tree to my left, bouncing off the trunk just as I ran by, the force of the throw sufficiently strong enough that it hit my shield, albeit at a shallow angle. That, however, turned out to be a blessing because the impact on my shield was powerful enough that the shield was wrenched from my grasp. I cannot lie; it sent a bolt of pain shooting up my arm, but if anything, it gave me an extra burst of energy, or so I thought in the moment. More likely, the fact I was no longer encumbered was the real cause, and whereas before, Domitius was about a dozen paces ahead, very quickly, my longer legs closed the distance. The shouting gave us the needed incentive to keep running was still going on, albeit more gasping than yelling, but we naturally did not stop. My lungs felt like someone had taken a bucket of heated charcoal and dumped it down my throat, while my legs felt similarly aflame, yet it was a very simple proposition for the both of us; run, or die. However, while neither of us wanted to fall into the hands of the Colapiani, I had even more of a reason; if I was not killed outright but taken prisoner instead, undoubtedly, I would be dragged before Draxo. And I thought it highly unlikely he would forget the giant Roman who used hi
s shield to break one of his tribeswomen's arms, simply because she was upset that her son was being taken away to join the auxiliaries. An added incentive was the memory of those four barbarians of what I was now sure was Draxo's royal guard approaching me after I killed the man that turned out to be his son, understanding that in the event even one of those men were with Draxo when I was dragged before him, I would certainly die, just not very quickly.
I cannot say which came first: the recognition this was essentially the same ground we had covered immediately after we saw the attacking Colapiani move into position to fall on the First, or that, even with the shrilling sound caused by our earflaps as we ran, we heard another whistling, except this was a long note sounded by a real one made of bone coming this time directly from our left. Although I had closed on Domitius, he was still just ahead of me and a bit uphill to my right, so I had no way of knowing if he heard the sound. If he did, he gave no indication, except I noticed he actually had turned uphill, just a bit, but enough to slow him down.
"Straighten out!" I managed to gasp. "You're going uphill!"
He did not reply, verbally anyway, but I just made out him lifting his left arm in what under other circumstances looked like a wave; otherwise, he maintained his course. While it was true I had not heard any shouting for the last few moments, I also understood it was just as likely that the sound of my own panting was drowning them out or they were similarly breathless. Reaching a tiny clearing bathed in moonlight, no more than a dozen paces across, just before we left it, I risked a quick glance, half-expecting to either see our pursuers right behind us, or run right into a tree because I was not looking where I was going, or both. The gods had other plans for me, though, because nothing of the sort happened, and I did see we had drawn out a larger gap than the one with which we started. Although I did not run into a tree, I came close; just as my head turned back to the front, the black trunk of a tree seemed to be hurtling toward me, and although I managed to steer my whole body out of the way, I brushed the tree with my arm. Unfortunately for me, it was my left arm, so the rough bark scraping against the still-tender skin of my wound sent such a thunderclap of pain up my arm that I almost stumbled and fell because of that alone. Consequently, my stride was altered and, for a moment, I was bent over, trying to swing my arms wildly about to regain my balance. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, I felt a strong hand reach out, briefly scrabbling along the back of my segmentata before getting a purchase on my harness. It happened so quickly I did not have time to react, although I had the fleeting thought that I had been caught, except it was Domitius who, now alongside me, helped stabilize me even as we continued running.
"Where are we going?" I just managed to get out.
"Follow…me…"
The sounds of the fighting were just barely audible again, although the noise was rapidly receding to our left rear and competing with the combined sounds made by our lungs trying to gulp down air. There was only one very tiny part of my mind still functioning rationally, working to maintain control in order to try and keep us alive. It is not that I was panicking; once I was aware of it threatening to resurface, things had happened so quickly I did not have time to think about anything other than running as fast as I could. Now, that rational part alerted me we were nearing the place where we had been just…what had it been? I wondered. No more than a sixth part of a watch, probably less than that, when we had been sitting back to back, trying to stay awake. But as our location registered in my mind, I began to get an idea of where Domitius was leading us and, fairly quickly, my suspicion was confirmed. Running, or more accurately stumbling across that fold of ground, we reached the other side and, barely pausing, we kept going. Suddenly, the ground tilted out from under my feet, except rather than pitching forward headfirst, I violently threw my weight backward. Consequently, my upper body going in the opposite direction of my feet caused them to fly out from under me so that I landed, hard, on my ass, the impact strong enough to make my teeth rattle together, biting my tongue in the process. As painful as that was, it was only the beginning as I continued sliding down into the steep draw that dropped away from the far edge of the fold, the sharp edges of rocks cutting into the back of my legs as I skidded down in a shower of smaller gravel and dirt. I was vaguely aware that Domitius had been about five feet upslope of me and a step or two ahead, but I suppose my heavier bulk made me slide faster, because when my feet slammed into the ground, the dirt and gravel still cascading down, Domitius was not there. An instant later, he landed with a grunt, the impact making him stumble, although he did not seem to bring half the hill down with him. My arm was still throbbing from the tree, but now added to that were the backs of my legs, and I felt trickles of warm liquid running down towards my calves. For just an instant, we stood there, panting, but even at the bottom of this narrow draw, we could still barely hear the fighting still going on. Then there was a shout, and although it was difficult to tell because of the way sounds bounce around hills, it sounded like it came from close enough to where our pursuers would likely be that it prompted us into action. Spinning to his right, Domitius pointed up the hill.
"Come on; we need to go this way," he whispered over his shoulder, except I did not move immediately.
Sensing I was not following, he stopped and turned around. The moonlight where we were standing was very bright, but just up the slope, I saw the shadows resumed from the trees lining the edges of the watercourse, which meant relative safety.
"What is it?" he asked, and I saw him cast a nervous glance up the slope we had just descended.
"Why that way?" I shook my head. "We need to get back to the Century."
"How?" he countered immediately. "It'll be the same problem. If we go down to the bottom of the draw, we'll still have those bastards between us and the Century. And we don't know they haven't already overrun it!"
"Yes we do," I whispered, feeling a stab of anger, although now I know it was just fear at the thought that our Century might be wiped out. I pointed back in that direction. "You can hear them fighting!"
"For how much longer?"
That got through to me, prompting a grim nod as I motioned for him to resume.
"I just hope it's not too late," I heard him mutter. "We've got to get into the shadows."
Fortunately, he was already moving, ascending what I did not need any moonlight to know was a dry watercourse, the kind that only fills up in the spring thaw. The bottom was rocky, and so narrow I could reach out and touch both sides with my palms flat, but it was the sound of hobnails striking stone that made me wince every time it happened. We had climbed perhaps a hundred feet when we heard men shouting again, but they were not close enough to tell if they speaking in the barbarian tongue; we just assumed that was the case. We reached the cover of the deep shadows, and the combination of overhanging trees and the shoulder of one side of the draw blocked the moonlight. Because of our height advantage, we could look back down from where we had come, in a deeply shadowed spot that was relatively secure, using the moment to catch our breath and look back down the slope. Even if the trees had not been in the way, the way the hill curved blocked any possible view of the floor of the ravine where our comrades were fighting, although we could just barely hear the sounds. Then, to our left as we continued looking that direction, there was a crashing sound, followed by a flurry of movement as first one, two, three, then four men emerged from the thicker woods, reaching the spot where we had just slid down the slope. While they were moving quickly, they were not running, and they stopped as they stared around, while one of them leaned out to look down the slope to the bottom of the watercourse we were using. Even as that happened, another half-dozen men appeared, emerging from the same spot as the first group. That was not what arrested my attention, though, but when I glanced over at Domitius, I saw him staring in the same direction, although it was too dark to see his expression.
That compelled me to whisper, "Is there anything about that bunch that looks…strange?"
<
br /> "You mean other than the fact that they're looking for us to flay us and wear our skin as cloaks?" Despite the gravity, I admit I had to stifle a chuckle. I sensed him turn to look at me, and he replied, "Other than that, not really. Why?"
I pointed down at what I counted as a dozen men, all armed but with an assortment of weapons, who were now conducting some sort of whispered conference of their own.
"Doesn't that armor and those helmets look familiar?"
Domitius turned back to look at them again, and I was rewarded when he sucked in a breath.
"They're Roman!"
I nodded, feeling grimly satisfied that I was the first to notice, my competitive nature still asserting itself, even in that moment.
"The armor is the old hamata, it's true," I whispered, "but less than half the men still wear them. But the helmets?" I shook my head. "They look like the ones from when my father marched."
