Chapter 7 – Warm War Gear
The mounted Legionary kicked his horse and the beast raced from the gates. Down the hill, he guided the animal to the right and away from the three new marching camps. For a moment, the carrier wondered why Centurion Sisera kept having the Echetla infantry build reinforced bivouac areas. There was nothing about the structures useful for a Legionary other than providing a safe place to sleep.
The horse dropped into a dip in the trail. Racing up the far side, the courier yanked his mount to a stop.
“Where are you going, Legionary?” an Echetla officer inquired.
Backing up the Lieutenant were five archers on either side of a wagon positioned across the road. To reinforce the blockade, a squad of spearmen stood off to the side.
“I am carrying official dispatches from Tribune Niveus Trigoni,” the courier insisted. “It will not go well for you if you rob me.”
“Who said anything about robbery?” Lieutenant Opsis suggested. “I want to know if you can have a letter delivered to the Capital separately from the Legion messages?”
“Yes. But it will cost you,” the Legionary advised him. “Where is it going?”
“My cousin works at a place called Historia Fae,” Opsis fibbed. “His master is Tomas Kellerian. Are you familiar with the establishment?”
“I’ve seen it, but I won’t be going all the way,” the Legionary explained. “I’ll send your letter by a civilian transport.”
“That is acceptable,” Lieutenant Opsis stated. He handed a letter and a few coins to the messenger. “Thank you.”
“It’s my job,” the Legionary responded. “Besides, our cities are supposed to be allies. I guess this is part of the agreement.”
A group of spearmen rolled the wagon off the trail and the Legionary galloped away from the roadblock.
“Is that all, Centurion?” the Lieutenant asked one of the soldiers.
“Yes. And thank you,” Alerio said while slipping off a spearman’s helmet.
Alerio had sent letters to his mentor Spurius Carvilius Maximus before. But recently, the former General had not responded. Senator Maximus never ignored his protégé and that gave Alerio a reason to worry. Were his letters being intercepted?
Changing tactics, Alerio had the letter to Kellerian sent outside the Legion system.
Tomas Kellerian, the armor to the gods, and Citizen of the Republic
I trust this letter finds you in good health. To keep you up to date, I am in Echetla, training their spearmen on Legion drills and formations. If you see my mentor, please pass on my best wishes.
Until we meet again, I wish you vigor and vitality.
Alerio Sisera, Centurion of the Legion and Citizen of the Republic.
***
Two days later, Alerio woke in a sweat. Not from weather or an illness, his nervous perspiration resulted from his lack of creative ideas. At daybreak, if he had the spearmen start a new marching camp, he would have a mutiny on his hands. But he could not teach the real drills and tactics of the Legion to a potential enemy.
As he did whenever he needed to think, Alerio snatched two gladii from the rack and went outside to run sword drills. Soon, the source of his sweat changed from worry to work and his breathing came in short gasps. Then a light appeared in the gateway of the city. Alerio assumed a traveler was getting an early start. But the light came at the marching camp and shortly a rider materialized with a lantern.
“Centurion Sisera, Tribune Trigoni wants you at the government building, sir,” one of the Legionaries stated.
“What’s going on?” Alerio questioned.
“Sir, I don’t know,” the messenger admitted. “I was sleeping. But I overheard someone say a patrol had come in from the mountain fort. They must have news.”
“I’m going to clean up and dress properly,” Alerio informed him. “Tell the Tribune, I will be along shortly.”
“Yes, sir,” the cavalryman replied.
While he reined his mount around, Alerio ran for the tent and his gear.
***
“Sir, Centurion Sisera reporting,” Alerio announced when he walked into the small meeting room.
Magistrate Basil and Sub Commander Ezio sat at the end of a table. Tribune Trigoni and Junior Tribune Morum occupied center seats. On the far end was a Captain of the Echetla army. From his dusty, sweat stained clothing, it appeared he had ridden hard to get to the city.
“Hold on Centurion,” Trigoni instructed. “We’re waiting for a few more officers.”
Optio Dactyli marched in and Alerio waved him over to the Legion piece of wall. A short while later, Lieutenant Opsis, his Captain, and the Company’s other Lieutenant strolled in. They took positions on the wall on the opposite side of the room. Alerio saluted when they noticed him.
“The Qart Hadasht army is on the move,” Ezio declared. “According to our scouts, they are headed south. Most likely to Kamarina on the coast near Scogitti.”
“Any movement towards the mountain passes, Sub Commander?” Lieutenant Opsis inquired.
“Not yet, but we are on alert,” Ezio replied. “I’m sending the reserve Companies to the mountain fort. Before they arrive, I want fresh eyes on the situation.”
“Junior Tribune Morum is your man for the job,” Trigoni offered.
“This is a job for infantry officers,” Ezio advise. “Opsis and Centurion Sisera are going ahead of the infantry. I don’t want my soldiers walking into a trap.”
“Of course, Sub Commander, whatever you think is best,” Trigoni agreed.
Alerio fought to hide his smile although his heart sang. There would be no lessons for the next week or so. Plus, the way the Tribune caved into the Sub Commander, the trade talks were either going splendidly or they were presided over by Discordia, the Goddess of Discord.
“I’d like to take a messenger with me, sir,” Alerio suggested. “If it goes bad, we’ll need Legion infantry.”
“Take Dactyli with you,” Trigoni responded. “That way, I’ll know to trust the report.”
Alerio’s joy ended and a murderous rage swept through him. No matter how the staff officer felt, demeaning an infantry officer in front of foreign officials went against Legion etiquette and common decency.
“An excellent call, sir,” Alerio said being sure to lighten his voice to avoid displaying his anger.
“Come Centurion Sisera,” Opsis invited Alerio. “Do you have something warmer and less visible than that gaudy red cape?”
Alerio eyed the gold and bright yellow cape draped over the Lieutenant’s shoulders. Then he smiled, realizing the Echetla officer was attempting to lighten the mood.
“Nothing warmer,” Alerio admitted.
Act 3
Chapter 8 – Mountain Passes
The brown fur blended with the winter colors of the forest. Only the whites around their eyes revealed the two men hidden above the trail. Below, columns of General Barca Hamilcar’s army marched by unaware of the observers.
“I’m satisfied,” Lieutenant Opsis whispered.
He pushed away from the bushes on top of the hill and once below the crest, rolled onto his back.
Alerio followed Opsis and mirrored rolling over and looking up at the branches of the evergreen tree.
“The worst will be a reinforced patrol,” Centurion Sisera suggested.
“We can handle a force that size,” Opsis responded. “I was worried about a full-scale assault on the passes.”
“You seem to have all the trails guarded,” Alerio offered.
“That’s our problem, Centurion,” the Lieutenant explained. “We have soldiers on all of the passes. Meaning, we are spread thin. Too thin to do anything except delay an invasion.”
“What happens then?” Alerio questioned.
“We send for the Syracuse army,” Opsis replied. “and hope they arrive before the Qart Hadasht mercenaries reach Echetla.”
“I think we need a few Legion Centuries here,” Alerio offered. “This trail is
only twenty miles from the coast. Hamilcar can flip and move eastward in a day’s march.”
Their position provided cover from anyone on the far side of the hill. And the drooping branches of the evergreen gave concealment, except for an enemy who stumbled onto their location.
“Spies,” a voice bellowed.
“Dolos has failed me,” Opsis swore to the Greek God of Deception.
He and Alerio rolled away from each other. Although unplanned, the movement saved their lives. Two arrows impacted the ground and jutted from the indentations in the pine needles where the two officers had been laying.
Another thing salvaging the situation was the chase instinct.
The lean and athletic Lieutenant Opsis went directly to his strength. Sprinting for a neighboring grove of trees, he almost made it. Close enough that he fell behind the branches when the first arrow pierced his thigh. The second sailed into the forest.
In the excitement of tracking a running figure, all five members of the mercenary patrol gave into their instincts and watched the chase. As expected, the arrow brought down the runner. But the distraction left a forgotten weapons’ instructor to their rear.
A pugio cut food well, had the heft to chop kindling, and the edges to do damage in a knife fight. But the utilitarian Legion dagger lacked elegance and length. The curved Golden Valley dagger under Alerio’s tunic, on the other hand, had one use.
As he ran at the patrol, Centurion Sisera yanked his gladius from its sheath then reached for the graceful assassin’s dagger.
***
Two archers, their hands occupied with arrows and bows, presented the least threat. Plus, they were studying the group of trees probably deciding if they should stalk the wounded prey or not. They would live a little longer.
A pair of spearmen flanked the bowmen. Both held their weapons low at the hip as if Lieutenant Opsis would come charging out of the trees like a wild boar. While the Echetla officer would not be attacking, the Legion officer was.
The fifth man in the Empire patrol stood back. His heavy sword angled across his body with the blade supported by his other hand. Balanced on his feet, the patrol leader displayed the traits of an experienced fighter. It was the reason why…
Alerio shuffled his feet to slow his pace. He shifted from a sprint to a quick walk, his left arm extended. Clutched in his fist, the assassin’s dagger protruded from the bottom of his hand. In a movement resembling a lateral punch, the blade traced from the back of the patrol leader’s neck, cut along the side, and finally lifted from the flesh at his throat. The man’s heavy sword fell to the ground as the Empire NCO used both hands to cover the slice. They were unsuccessful as the blood gushed between his fingers.
Centurion Sisera crossed his legs at the ankles and pivoted in midstride. Before taking the next step, he snapped a leg out and kicked an archer in the back. It launched the bowman. When he landed, the mercenary stumbled forward three steps before tripping and sprawling.
The spearman caught sight of the flying archer out of the corner of his eye. Confused by his airborne companion, the mercenary gawked rather than turn to face the enemy. Alerio used the heartbeat to slam the side of his gladius into the exposed cheek. A satisfying crunch of breaking facial bones let the Centurion know he could safely move onto the other pair.
Few weapons were as effective as a notched arrow on a half-drawn bowstring. A slight pull followed by a point and release completed the cycle. After that, the arrow flew true to the target. At close range, the flight ended in a blink of an eye. It should have found flesh. Except, Alerio dropped into a tuck, summersaulted forward, and came up in the face of the bowman.
With hilts in both hands, the Legion weapons’ instructor punched the archer with his fists. Stumbling back, the bowman collided with the last spearman. Planting a foot on the backtracking man’s chest, Alerio leaped over him. Both blades slashed down, cutting deeply into the spearman’s shoulder and arm. The mercenary dropped screaming to the forest floor.
Every combat veteran knew the feeling. The sense of impending death from a blade in the back or, in Alerio’s case, from an arrow released by the first archer. Dropping into a squat, the Centurion spun searching for the arrowhead and shaft that should be aimed at his face.
A broken bow lay abandoned in the dirt. At the end of the forest trail, the archer vanished into the trees. While the bow explained why he did not catch an arrow in the back, the actions of the fleeing bowman frightened Alerio.
The archer had both hands waving in the air as if signaling across an open field. Of course, no one could see through the trees. But they could hear yelling. And the bowman’s voice carried back to Alerio and far into the forest.
Thinking of Lieutenant Opsis, Alerio jogged for the trees and prayed to Nenia Dea.
“Goddess of Death, if Opsis is hurt bad, take him before I get there,” Alerio begged. “If not, please leave him for me.”
Voices from the forest beyond the far end of the trail replied to the running archer. Realizing there were more Empire patrols in the woods, Centurion Sisera leaned forward and raced towards Lieutenant Opsis.
***
A long time later, Opsis beat on Alerio’s back and pleaded.
“Put me down,” he insisted between moans of pain. “My leg is on fire.”
Alerio ignored the complaining and struggled further uphill. Above them, their horses waited. Below them, the sounds of patrols calling to each other drove the Centurion.
Two healthy men scrambling up the steep incline and over the rocks would be mounted and away by now. But carrying a squirming, injured man, delayed them.
“This is as good a place as any,” Alerio stated when they reached a cleared area with less incline.
He dropped to his knees and jerked Opsis off his shoulders. Cradling the wounded man in his arms, Alerio placed him on the ground. With his legion dagger, he sliced the thick leather trousers and peeled back the fabric.
Another moan escaped the Lieutenant’s lips.
“I know how it feels,” Alerio offered while inspecting the position of the shaft. The arrow caught the Echetla officer as he turned towards the trees. Penetrating the side of his thigh, Alerio hoped to see a straight through path. But the shallow depth of the penetration was troublesome. He warned the officer. “The arrowhead hit the leg bone. If I push it through, I may do more damage to your leg.”
“Cut it out,” Opsis insisted. “It cannot hurt any worse than it does.”
“I’d need to cut too wide to remove the arrowhead. Maybe if we had vino, hot water, clean dressings,” Alerio remarked. He paused and listened for a moment to the sounds of the patrols coming up uphill, then added. “and time to cauterize the wound. But we don’t.”
Alerio placed the blade of the dagger on the arrow, an inch above the flesh, and scored around the shaft. Once a groove circled the wood, he snapped off most of the shaft.
“We’ll leave it in,” Alerio apprised his patient.
Then the Legion Centurion reached under his parka with both hands and began unspooling a length of black cloth.
“That’s a fancy scarf for a Legion officer,” Opsis suggested when he saw the long piece of silk. “I didn’t think Republic officers cared for such finery.”
“Some do,” Alerio responded. “I don’t.”
“Then what are you doing with the silk?”
Alerio pulled a section taut and began wrapping the thigh.
“Silk makes a good emergency bandage,” he explained. “Unlike wool, it creates support around a wound.”
Opsis groaned as the tight wrap encircled and compressed his thigh.
“You are a strange man, Centurion Sisera. For a second-rate infantry officer, according to Tribune Trigoni, you are…oh, Algea blesses me,” Opsis uttered a prayer to the Goddess of Pain. “You are very resourceful.”
“Don’t believe everything a staff officer says,” Alerio replied. He tied off the silk. “That should stabilize the leg. And I apologize.”
Alerio half stood, grabbed Opsis’ arm and yanked the Lieutenant off the ground and onto his shoulders. With the Lieutenant complaining in his ear, Alerio mounted the hill on the far side of the clearing and began to climb.
Chapter 9 – Competent Officer
The two horses came through the checkpoint, slowly. While the rider in front sat erect, the second horseman slumped over his mount’s neck.
“Sound the alarm,” Alerio instructed while dropping the lead line. “There are Empire patrols behind us.”
Two spearmen pulled Opsis off his horse and carried the Lieutenant to the command tent.
“The doctor will take care of him, Centurion,” the Echetla Captain assured Alerio. “But I have a problem.”
“What’s that, sir?” Alerio inquired.
“I have two mountain passes to control and I am short an officer for this Company,” the Commander explained. “I want you to take charge of the thirty-two spearmen on the right flank. You shouldn’t have to do anything but keep the troops on their defensive line and prevent them from panicking.”
“I am familiar with the men and their Rank Leaders from training,” Alerio remarked. “You can count on me, sir.”
“I hope so. I’m only asking, despite what your Tribune told me,” the Captain said just before he mounted his horse. “because we are spread so thin. I can’t afford to have an experienced infantry officer standing by as an observer.”
“Yes, sir,” Alerio acknowledged. He started to say something about Tribune Trigoni but held his tongue. “The right flank at this pass will hold.”
The Captain trotted away and Optio Dactyli jogged up.
“Orders, Centurion?” he inquired.
The words sounded correct, but the Sergeant stood relaxed. In the presence of an infantry officer, the Optio should have been as attentive as a well-trained dog.
“We have the right flank and thirty-five spearmen to hold it,” Alerio responded.
“I bet you wish you had trained them in Legion tactics,” the NCO proposed. “Now, all you have is…”
Muted Implications (Clay Warrior Stories Book 12) Page 6
