As he pushed open the gilded doors of the inner chamber, Corvinus took in the sight that greeted him. Senators were shouting and waving their hands in the air, some to signal their desire to speak, others to dismiss the arguments of their rivals.
It was chaos. For a matter to cause such behaviour from the upper classes was rare indeed. As Corvinus looked across the room it was easy to imagine a very similar uproar to this when Elder Liberius had first announced the theft of the Spolia Opima.
Amid the turmoil, Corvinus saw his father and his fellow consul trying to call for silence. He made his way across the floor towards them.
‘Salve Senator,’ his father shouted over the clamour before raising his hand briefly, ‘a moment please.’
His father turned quickly to talk to his co-consul, Tiberius Zeno. The man nodded to whatever had been said and Corvinus heard his father then shout to Elder Liberius nearby. ‘Elder, this is quite enough I think. Go summon the guards to help restore order!’
The Senate Elder quickly shuffled through the mass of rowdy politicians to the side exit and within moments the heavy thud of armoured boots could be heard on the marble floor.
Two dozen Praetorian Guards marched to their positions around the room’s perimeter. In unison they pounded the shafts of their spears against the floor to order silence.
As the senators across the floor realised the armed presence of the First Legion, the shouting came to an abrupt end.
‘Senators are we children? Let us not forget ourselves or where we are,’ said Consul Valerius as calm was restored.
The Senate floor was cleared as members resumed their seats. Corvinus followed their lead, finding a spot among the familiar faces of his last visit.
‘That is better,’ his father said to the assembly as he stood behind the speaker’s dais. ‘Now, let us go about this news as dignified senators. For those who have not yet heard, word has arrived from the north. General Horatius reports an army of men from the Evastii Tribe have used the coming of winter to cross the frozen Tymero River into our lands.’
Corvinus felt relieved that this was the urgent reason behind the session, but equally alarmed at the thought of the invading barbarian. A ripple of curses sounded through the ranks of the aristocracy as other senators who had also just heard the news voiced the fears and disbelief almost everyone was thinking. The murmur was silenced under the stern gazes of the consuls.
‘As you are all aware, the tribes are not to be trusted to keep their word in any negotiation,’ said Consul Zeno as he resumed the speaker’s dais from his co-consul. ‘At present they remain confined to the borderlands but we must respond with force and drive out the barbarians before they make for the heartlands of Arvum Superior.’
A senator from the benches to Corvinus’ left stood up.
‘With the Oirthir harassing our southern borders and the militia dismissed for the winter, what forces do we have available in the north? What is to stop the Evastii from entering the heartlands?’ said the man.
‘Listen well, for I want this to be clear to you all. I will not tolerate any doomsayers on the street corners or merchants hoarding their grain from the markets because of wild speculation that the northern countryside is to be overrun,’ said Consul Zeno sternly, gripping the sides of the rostrum. The consul looked down, holding a gaze with every man present. His dark eyes pierced through them all, betraying a steadfast will and energy despite his old age.
‘The Evastii incursion will be isolated and crushed accordingly, of that I have no doubt,’ the consul continued. ‘As we speak General Horatius readies the city Tarqus for war. Word has already been sent to my legion at Emissus and those legions of my co-consul and his son at Ultor to prepare for the march north.’
Corvinus sat up with particular interest at this reference to his legion.
‘We have only the initial message from General Horatius but we can expect more word on our enemy’s movements to come,’ continued Zeno. ‘However, we can construe that in making for the eastern approaches around the defences of Tarqus, the Evastii will be forced to use the mountain passes. These winter roads will be treacherous to say the least and will give us time to muster our armies in response. I say the gods have smiled upon us in this. For when the barbarians finish their crossing and come out on our side of the mountains, we shall swiftly put them to steel.’
The Senate benches sounded with applause as Consul Zeno stood down from the dais, returning to his chair.
‘You are all expected to make offerings to Taranis for the success of our legions in the coming battle,’ said Consul Valerius. ‘Though Arcem has survived far worse than this in its history, make no mistake gentlemen, the barbarian is never an easy foe.’
III
‘No man is clever enough to know all the evil he does.’
Senator Cornelius Aquila
The scratching of a quill was the only sound to be heard in Corvinus’ quarters. Coals burned lowly in the fireplace, casting a faint glow across the cold, stone walls. Situated in the uppermost levels of Ultor’s ancient citadel, the room was a stark reminder of the spartan nature of life in the legions, even for a ranking officer. Here in the north, the comforts of Monarx were but a distant dream.
Though Corvinus knew well he could stay in his family’s villa on the town’s outskirts, he had decided it best to be quartered with his legion. That is not to say the temptation to return to his childhood home had not plagued him since. The simple thought that his estate was not forced to ration firewood over winter made the appeal of a warm bath all the more enticing with each day that passed deeper into the bitter season.
Corvinus clutched his cloak tightly to his chest, muttering a small curse as another gust of icy wind found its way through the cracked masonry of the walls. The coming of winter had been quick to renew Corvinus’ respect for the gods.
In the mountain outpost of Ultor, a man could easily come to sense with his place in the universe. There, the deadly forces of nature wielded by the gods were among the most perilous to be found across all Tumultus. However there was an undeniable beauty to the rugged landscape. The white capped peaks of the Arctos Mountains stretched as far as the eye could see, awe-inspiring in their size. The mountain range split much of the continent in two, as if Taranis himself had built a great wall separating the lands of Arcem from what lay beyond.
In its prime, Ultor had once been the strategic bastion of the north. Built in the time of noble Romanus, it had been a refuge from the marauding tribes that plagued Arcem in its early decades. During those bloody years, Ultor had stood as the outmost point of the rising nation. Many a time throughout its long history had it been besieged by the barbarian, not once had it fallen. But the border frontiers had shifted further north over the centuries, to cities like Emissus and Tarqus after that. Despite Consul Valerius’ best efforts to revive his ancestral hometown, Ultor was a fading city. Each year more and more of its sons would leave their farmsteads, seeking escape in the busy coastal cities or the promise of adventure in the legions.
Where once it stood as an indomitable rock before the enemy, it now seemed time would be the final undoing of Ultor’s once mighty citadel.
Battered by the harsh winter winds, its battlements were well-worn and fallen into disuse. Its only remaining function was to guard the mountains from any eastern crossings. Though no army had ever been foolish enough to attempt the hazardous crossing, there were isolated tribes across the mountain range and occasional raids on local farmland. For the garrison of Ultor, theirs was a boring and often thankless duty. But it would not be for so long. The Senate order to muster against the Evastii had changed that. Corvinus expected to be on the march any day now, once his father arrived to lead them.
In the meantime Corvinus had been kept busy, buried beneath a flow of army despatches and requisition orders to accommodate the coming march. A great amount of foodstuffs and equipment would be needed to supply Ultor’s two legions in the field. Moreover, these provis
ions for the entire campaign needed to be packed and ready to move with the legions from the offset. Once on the march, Corvinus doubted any lines of resupply would be feasible through the winter snows.
The matter had seen the young general spend countless hours in meetings with Sentius Castus, the Camp Prefect of his father’s legion. As the most senior administrator between the two legions in Ultor, Prefect Castus had proved invaluable in securing and organising the required war materials along with the other endless details of keeping the men equipped and paid.
Corvinus paused from his writing.
In the corner of the room Xaphia was sleeping, or at least appeared to be. Corvinus could never be sure when it came to his new bodyguard. Her habits were as alien to him as the colour of her skin.
Sitting against the far wall, she remained motionless for hours. Corvinus glanced over to check that was still the case. As he had quickly learned in the days following her visit to his Monarx townhouse, Xaphia had an uncanny ability to blend into the background of a room and her presence could easily be forgotten. Whether that was natural for her species or simply the skill of her newly-revealed trade, Corvinus did not know.
Xaphia’s helmeted head rested against the stone wall. Smooth and polished, the human features fashioned into the bronze mask were reassuring but were still a far cry from the alien face beneath.
Looking over her silent form it was hard not to picture Xaphia’s true nature. The image still haunted Corvinus’ thoughts as he remembered seeing that face for the first time before the surgery. It was her eyes that were most unsettling. Her black oval eyes held no life in them. It was easy to understand why men like Teos believed her to be some evil monster from the underworld.
Freed of the need to wear her outer cloak near the fire, Xaphia’s gangly figure was no longer obscured and Corvinus was able to properly observe her.
A tight-fitting bodysuit covered every inch of her skin from her mask down, its dark leather topped by the various sized plates of her armour. If he looked closely enough, Corvinus could make out the unnatural shape to the limbs beneath. Twisted and almost bulbous, the joints between the gaps of her armour were surely not human and made Corvinus shudder.
Legs crossed, Xaphia’s long, slender arms rested calmly on her knees as if she were meditating. Though motionless, Corvinus knew on an unconscious level that her lanky limbs boasted a great strength. For some reason he saw the likeness of a spider in her posture, silent and still on its web, waiting to pounce.
The more Corvinus focused on his bodyguard, the more he was enthralled. Even her chest seemed to remain motionless, as if she did not require breath. Eerie, thought Corvinus. That was the best word to describe her.
‘Xaphia,’ said Corvinus, breaking the silence, ‘what exactly are you?’
His bodyguard remained completely still as she answered.
‘You know already,’ said Xaphia, her voice distorted by the mask. ‘That much is obvious by the way you have been staring at me. I am not of your species.’
‘Then what species would you call yourself?’
Xaphia hissed beneath her mask.
‘You have not the pronunciation or tongue required to articulate the words of my race,’ she said, ‘but to pervert its name into your language one could say I am a Seleukian.’
Corvinus repeated the word, failing to replicate the inflections Xaphia had.
‘Are there more of your kind here on Tumultus?’ he said.
‘Oh no, my kind does not settle on any one planet, we travel the stars,’ said Xaphia. ‘I alone was left here.’
‘What do you mean left here?’ asked Corvinus, curious now his guard was suddenly permitting herself to be drawn into an all too rare conversation. ‘Were you punished? Exiled?’
‘Punished?’ Xaphia chuckled behind her mask. ‘You could say it was the opposite, I was greatly honoured to have been chosen to stay with your kind.’
‘Just how long have you been here?’ asked Corvinus.
‘You ask a great number of questions,’ said Xaphia.
Corvinus stared at her. Even at the sharp angle he knew she could see him.
‘Since the beginning,’ answered Xaphia finally.
‘You mean to tell me you were here before The Fall?’ said Corvinus in disbelief. ‘That was almost four centuries ago, impossible.’
‘It is not in my nature to suffer the passing of time,’ said Xaphia. ‘Besides, how else would I know how to operate the technology required for your surgery?
Corvinus had never thought of this, perhaps she really had been on Tumultus since the beginning. If that was true then she still had much to explain.
‘What have you been doing all this time?’ said Corvinus. ‘How is it that my father was the first to stumble upon your existence?’
‘I was waiting.’
‘For what?’
‘The right moment,’ answered Xaphia.
Corvinus sighed at the enigma of his guard as she retreated back to her secretive self. Hopefully sometime soon he would get her to part with her mysteries, but for now he knew it would be useless to press any more questions.
Annoyed, Corvinus looked back to the despatches on his desk but could not concentrate with so many unanswered questions still in his mind.
Outside, the clamour of battle could be heard through the small arrow-slit window on the far side of the room. A welcome distraction, Corvinus stood up from his work, deciding to stretch his legs. He walked over to the window, feeling the air temperature grow colder with each step he took away from the warmth of the fireplace.
As intended by the citadel’s long-dead designers, the angle of the embrasure gave a wide field of view to anyone who stood behind it, whilst presenting an impossibly narrow target for any would-be attackers outside.
Looking through, Corvinus could clearly see the kill-zone of the garrison’s courtyard below and the source of the noise. The courtyard was filled with two massive legion formations, each struggling against the other in a full-scale mock battle.
By honing their skills in war games, Corvinus hoped such training now would save lives in the real fighting to come. Besides, they served as an outlet from the tedium of garrison life and put to good use the competitive rivalry that had built up between the two brother legions – the Valerii Legions as they were called.
Despite the fact that they were called ‘games’, the scene in the courtyard before him was anything but affable.
The centre of the courtyard echoed with the battering of shields and clatter of swords as each legion tried to force the other back behind the specified lines. Though their weapons were made of wood and blunted, there would still be a mass of injuries by the end of it. Broken bones and minor cuts were expected and added to the realism of the experience.
In the thick of the clash Corvinus was not surprised to see the massive bulk of Victor Kaeso, the First Centurion of the Fourth Legion; his father’s legion. Though a man of rank, Kaeso could have easily been mistaken for a tribesman, such was his renowned fury. Even from his standpoint Corvinus could make out the berserker rage that filled the man’s giant features as he used his shield to ram through his opponents. The First Centurion truly was a formidable sight to behold.
Unlike the chainmail armour worn by most legionaries, Kaeso and the men of the First Cohort around him were clad in thick segmented plates. Shrugging off all but the worst of blows, Kaeso and his men spearheaded the Fourth Legion’s advance against Corvinus’ line.
Corvinus looked on for some time, noting the efficiency and fluid transition of each unit as his centurions rotated the frontline in the midst of combat. Allowing the frontline legionnaires precious moments of respite and rotating them with fresh troops, the manoeuvre was one of many that distinguished Arcem’s soldiers from its enemies. Requiring a precision and discipline only possible in the professional legions, it was the envy of foreign commanders.
Corvinus smiled, pleased with what he saw in his men.
In
spite of their discipline, his legion was being pushed back more and more. Lacking the fighting experience and strength to stand against his father’s veteran legion, Corvinus saw it would be only a matter of minutes before his men would be forced back completely. No matter, the Third Legion was not expected to have won. So long as his men had the strength of discipline required of an Arcemite legion instilled in its recruits Corvinus would be content enough. From that, anything could be achieved.
He turned from the window, already knowing the inevitable result.
After watching the action outside, the mound of papers waiting on his desk seemed even more uninviting.
He looked back to his bodyguard and the two slender blades hanging from her belt, their edges curved and lethal.
‘Perhaps we too should be practicing,’ said Corvinus, swinging his arms against the stiffening cold.
For the first time in hours, Xaphia’s masked face moved. Its bronze features turned slowly to look at him and Corvinus could sense her interest.
‘What are you suggesting?’ she asked.
‘The legions are outside today, I’m sure the citadel’s inner training halls will be free for use,’ said Corvinus. ‘Care for a spar?’
‘You still do not trust me, do you?’ said Xaphia. ‘You need to see for yourself in order to believe, how like your species.’
‘I wouldn’t trust anyone less able than myself with such a duty,’ said Corvinus, ‘especially when the claims come from something as strange as you.’
In one fluid motion Xaphia stood up from her seated position and nodded.
‘Then I shall enlighten you,’ she said.
The great hall of the citadel was empty. Usually reserved for legion feasts or to shelter civilians during times of siege, its expanse also served as an indoor training area during the long winter months. When the snows were heavy, its walls would be filled with the martial exercise of its garrison. With the legions currently outside, the hall was silent. Xaphia and Corvinus entered, their footsteps echoing loudly.
The Ultimate Spoils (Tumultus Chronicles Book 1) Page 6
