Max Quick: The Bane of the Bondsman (Max Quick Series Book 3)

by Mark Jeffrey

  “So,” Giovanni said, “I have found a new father. This is … unexpected. And cause for joy. You must meet my daughters, who are also your daughters.”

  And so it was that Appius met his distant descendants — Venetia, Allesandra, Bonfilia, Jina, Oriana and Eleonora, who piled into the room and danced in a ring around him until he could cry no more tears of unexpected joy.

  LATER, after the girls had gone to bed, Giovanni and Appius spoke for long hours, seated before the roaring fire of the great hall. Ragazzo served as translator. But Giovanni, with his sharp intellect, was already beginning to understand more and more of the dialect Appius spoke — it was not a completely foreign language, after all. Every once in awhile, he was able to ask a question directly without Ragazzo’s help, which delighted Appius, who in turn corrected him on this or that minor variation of pronunciation.

  After inquiring about several points of history during the time of the Roman Empire, which Appius answered in full with rich detail, seeing how interested Giovanni was in such things, Appius politely asked to be caught up on the general outlines of world history since his own time — something which Giovanni likewise delighted in telling. He spoke of how the Empire had split into the Eastern and Western halves, each with multiple claimants to the title of Emperor. He told of the decay of morality and the descent into bickering and infighting. And finally, he described the sack of Rome by the Visigoths of the North, savages who knew not what they were destroying.

  After that, Giovanni was unable to fill in nearly eight hundred years of history, as record-keeping was sparse, and scribes were few. These were the Dark Ages, when the high technology and culture of Rome was lost, and men lived like savages in the forests of Europe.

  And then had come that last two hundred years, which had changed everything. The ideas forbidden by the Church in Rome, the writings of the Classical world that had been preserved and hidden Vatican were at last recovered. Ancient wisdom could be read again. And new ideas were springing up here and there, ideas about science and philosophy. Men of learning walked abroad and nowhere more so than in the Florentine state in which Giovanni made his home.

  “But now,” Giovanni said, “I must know of your journeys. Especially if I am to solve the riddle of how you simply skipped over one thousand and four hundred years of history. It is clear to me that you are at a loss to explain this … yet, I feel the answer must be in your tale somewhere …”

  Appius nodded and said, “It is sooth, Giovanni, that I am at a loss. But I do have a suspicion of sorts, now that I know what has happened. Perhaps the newfound wisdom of your age can tell me of how such a thing may have transpired.

  “I was the commander of the Ninth Legion, stationed in Britannia. Our base was Londonium. We were ordered to take the entire length and breadth of Britannia and put her under the banner of the Eagle of Rome. And this we did — with the exception of the hordes of the northernmost part of the island.

  “These men of the north were dirty and brutish, but large and long-haired, and cunning fighters. We had our armor and weapons, they had their hills and trees and knowledge of the terrain. And the weather was ever on their side: a dreary, dense mist, a floating water, would arise in the highlands in which they dwelt. They would come out the night in this mist to slit Roman throats — only to vanish once again before we could rouse quickly enough to even behold them. Thus, these hairy dirty creatures decimated my men like a slow bleed.

  “Finally we engaged them in the open, or as in the open as the Caledonian Forest could be said to be. That woodland is vast beyond imagining and dense in thicket and thrush. As we marched towards where we believed their camp was located, the wild men of the north sprang up from the dirt like demons in our midst — they had contrived to hide themselves within the very forest floor.

  “Our catapults and machines of war were no use against such tactics; we had meant to siege them with our smaller numbers and more efficiently armaments; now, we found ourselves in a hand-to-hand battle with these Pictish brutes, and we saw them up close for the first time.

  “Their snarling, frothing faces were covered in tattoos — all manner of dabs and swirls. And they wore gold and silver jewelry, and looked every bit the part of wicked men or monsters. Only where their tangled black beards jutted from their prodigious jawlines could we not see some form of skin-art.”

  “I have read some of their poetry, you may be interested to know,” Giovanni cut in. “The Black Book of Carmarthen is in my personal collection.”

  Appius snorted. “I would not think such ferocious beasts capable of any gentle thought. In event, the Picts overwhelmed us easily, slaughtering much of the Ninth. Only seventeen of us survived. We fled into the forests.

  “Many a day and night we managed to outwit our wary hunters. Still, two of us died from illness and hunger, until finally we learned how to forage this forest, which plants and foreign animals were good to eat. We made several attempts to head south, to regroup in Londonium and tell them the tale of what had happened so that a strategy could be formulated. But the ways were watched, always, on every possible road or river.

  “So we headed still further north, and we found their camp. We saw their primitive homes where their families resided, on the northern shores of the Isle of Britannia. These were a mud-people, we were astonished to learn. Hardly civilized at all. They wore bearskins for clothing and lived in yurts and tents of the most crude makings.

  “But we were not interested in revenge. We were starving and weary: we wished to gain the boundaries of the Empire. Our ribcages stretched thin skin against the rusted iron of our armor. We were husks of men. Two more of us died, and we hastily buried them lest their stench become a beacon to the Picts.

  “Instead, we crept down at night and stole one of their longboats. Under twinkling starlight and in the shrill cold, we pushed it out on the wide spreading sea, aiming her prow straight at the blessed solace of the Empire on the other side of the channel. The men rowed as they have never rowed before in their lives.

  “At first, all seemed promising. Britannia faded behind us like a bad memory. We had plenty of fresh water with us from the bountiful streams of Britannia — and now, with the ocean beneath us, we had plenty of fish, which many of the men were skilled at catching in various ways with what we had available. So our starvation was curbed and we were saved from the ravages of that death.

  “That morning, a favorable wind had arisen and so we hoisted the sail. Now we sped along the glassy sea, faster than any of us had dreamt possible scant hours earlier.

  “By the third day, we had expected to see the land of our sweet Empire rearing up before us. But we did not. Instead, the sky became a tangle of color. The lodestone we had with us spun and spun as though the earth had gone mad. And day become night and then day again within minutes — and when it was night, the stars jittered. That is to say, they quivered in their places in the heavens.

  “All the while, we saw a full moon rise in the west and the sun rise in the east. Impossibly, both raced towards one another like lovers longing for embrace. The full moon went through her cycles of half moon, then quarter moon and then crescent in the space of heartbeats, as she arched across the sky.

  “My men hid their heads in terror. The gods were toying with us. The sun likewise rose with an unnatural speed. The earth quaked and large waves slammed against the boat, making us certain we would tip and drown. Lightning rent the sky, though there were no clouds or rain.

  “The boat itself began to splinter and crack. We sprang leaks everywhere. Oars snapped like twigs. We were breaking apart …

  “And then the moon met the sun, fused, became as one in an eclipse.

  “In that moment, everything stopped. All was peaceful, calm. And before us, where nothing but open sea had been before, now lay a vast expanse of land.

  “At once I knew these were not the shores of the Empire we sought, no. This terrain before us was craggy and high, like rock ripped from the depths of
the earth and thrust skyward. Like stalactites that should be underground in deep caverns, smashed into the sunlight, bejeweled spikes and crags knifing into the sky.

  “An Isle, then. And Isle off the northern coast of Britannia. But it was an uncharted Isle, for I knew the maps.

  “Much occurred then that I would tell you another time. And your eyes, Giovanni, say plainly that I must get to the heart of the matter — and so I shall!

  “The sky remained as it was and did not change: the moon covered the sun, and a twilight, a gloaming, hung over everything. This was undoubtedly an enchanted Isle, I knew that right away. Yet knowing this, still we dared to land on its shores. In sooth, we had no choice, our boat was smashed. What remained of our craft we left a husk on the beach and walked inwards, amongst the spikes of rock, and along well-trodden trails that we found already there.

  “For weeks, we wandered. We saw many wonderous things. We saw strange flowers that seemed to have the power of speech. We saw colors that were unlike colors we had ever seen before or since — impossible colors. We saw eerie lights come up out of a volcano far off on the eastern edge of the Isle — lights that would rise into the eternal gloaming of the eclipse-night and vanish with a wink. We never did discover what they were — they appeared like will-o-wisps, only much, much larger, and vanished just as mysteriously.

  “But time and again, we beheld faery folk, dancing around a flame, laughing in the fields as they walked arm in arm. Faery folk that were amongst the most beautiful beings I have ever beheld.”

  And here, Appius looked at Max strangely. “They were not as you may imagine or that legends aver — that is to say, fair haired and fair eyed. Rather, they were dark haired and eyed, formed well and well-muscled. Like heroes of old. And I dare say, Ragazzo, they appeared somewhat like you.”

  Ragazzo looked startled. Giovanni, a master of the subtleties of human expression, as both a genius and a painter, did not miss this or its import. In that instant he was certain: Ragazzo was concealing something.

  “Have you ever encountered faery folk, Ragazzo?” Appius asked pointedly.

  “No, sir,” Ragazzo said softly.

  “Ah. Well.”

  “Ragazzo comes to us from afar,” Giovanni said with an apologetic laugh. “He does not recall where or what his true name is.”

  “Ah. A true name,” Appius said knowingly. “To know the name of a thing is to have power over a thing. And Ragazzo does even not know his own true name. So how can he have power over himself?” Appius laughed.

  Ragazzo burned with shame. He hesitated and then said, “It is also true that if I cannot tell any my true name, none may ever gain power over me.”

  Appius stopped laughing. He rose and bowed deeply, “Your wit and wisdom are evident, young master. I see my descendant has chosen his friend well — and I am well pleased.”

  “Please continue,” Giovanni said, eyeing Ragazzo somewhat warily now.

  “Well, as you might imagine, we first wished to simply recover our health and our wits,” Appius said. “And this we did. We rested aplenty amongst the strange sights and sounds of that eldritch isle. Even sleep itself was deeper there — we frequently fell into slumbers that lasted for days, during which we could not be wakened by others of us who were assigned the night watch. But the deep rest had it’s desired effect: before long we had recovered out familiar strength.”

  “The only thing that troubled us from time to time were slow, rolling earthquakes. The isle was volcanic, as we had seen. The shrugs and moans of the earth were unsettling, but we had been through such things before and we thought little of them.

  “Then, our minds turned towards escape. We thought of how we might rebuild our boat and continue our journey, well supplied from this isle, back to the Empire of our birth. Secretly, however, I harbored a fear that I did not share with my men: that this bewitched, cursed isle of the eternal eclipse had snared us forever and would not let us go, boat or no.

  “We split into two groups. Eight would forage for food and water and supplies for the boat while the remainder would begin the rebuilding on the beach. And as you might suspect, it was we eight who entered your village several days ago that took the first forage.

  “It was not long until we came upon a gap in a mountainside. This gap was supported by a doorway formed of three massive blocks of granite. Curious, we entered. Here, it appeared, were the stoneworks of men. Perhaps tools or other supplies could be found inside abandoned, or if not abandoned, perhaps we could bargain for what we needed.

  “As we walked deeper into the cavern of the rock, I soon saw that this was a small underground city — a labyrinth of smooth tunnels and stairs leading up and down in all directions. I took a care to mark my initials — AQ — on the wall at regular intervals so that we would not lose our way. And although we had torches, we found we did not need them: the rocks themselves oozed a soft reddish light.

  “Deeper and deeper into the heart of the earth itself we went, sloping downwards, downwards always. My secret fear drove me to continue this descent. It seemed to me that this cavern city was the work of high civilization, something like our own Empire. Kindred peoples had created this place … I sensed that we could find the means of our egress from the isle herein if we but looked earnestly enough.

  “At last, after a day or two of plumbing the depths of this place, and descending rock that sloped ever downward, we saw unmistakable daylight streaming ahead of us. Daylight? Underground, we thought? How? Nevertheless, we rushed towards it and found ourselves before a giant stone archway. Odd hieroglyph writing we could not read was hewn into it all around.

  “And contained within the bough of the Arch was another world. A forest and a sea quite unlike our own isle lay there. If we believed this enchanted isle upon which we were castaways was a jewel of theurgy beyond our ken, then this was thrice so.

  “Then I understood: this was a portal to the very faery world itself! This was their kingdom I beheld — trees of sapphire, rich red grass, skies of golden brass, all shining like they were made of cold liquid star-fire itself. It was a delirium of delight, this sight that baffled and trammelled my senses.

  “We eight could not hold ourselves. We stepped through that portal, this Arch, and into that other-world of faery-fire.”

  Appius bowed his head and shook it. “And that was where we erred. Clearly. I did not believe we were there for long … perhaps a matter of weeks at the most. And we had meant only to spend a day, perhaps only hours! Yet we became mazed. It must have been longer, much longer than weeks. But not as long as one thousand and four hundred years! I would swear to that even now. And besides, we have not such age, so such could not be.

  “And yet, we all recall that someone or something found us, and named us intruders. We did not belong, it said. It was angry at our presence in this demesne. The faery folk jangled at us in fury. Spiteful bells lashed out at us, stinging us, stinging us. And herding us, pushing us back, back to the portal from whence we entered their realm. We went willingly, under their spell, of course, of course we would go back to the place we belonged.

  “The memory of our time spent in that realm was robbed from us. Other than this blurred account that I have just relayed, I can tell you naught. I have a vague sense that we saw wonders beyond what mere mortal eyes are permitted to see this side of the veil of death. But none of us cannot recall specifically. The faerie folk uttered a geas of forgetfulness that sapped all and replaced it with a void that only grows deeper the more we strain to recall. As for me, I, Appius, will be content with the echoes and fragments of the sweet music that I seem to recall from that dream within a dream.

  “We found ourselves back in the cavern before the Arch. As we came back to ourselves, a violent earthquake shook the ground and rock all around us. We cried out and covered our faces, believing that we would surely perish in a rain of boulders. The stone of the archway itself snapped in half with a loud crack. It did not fall completely, but it had now become
crooked: one side sagged, and the other pushed up into ceiling at an unnatural angle, like an ill-set broken bone. The way to the faerie realm became less defined as well: the portal was damaged. It seemed to me that with such jagged reality therein presented, to step across that threshold again would be to kiss death.

  “Whether this earthquake was the anger of the faerie folk at our intrusion or unrelated altogether I do not know. I only know that when the shaking stopped, my terrified men and I ran like was have never run before up, up, up. We ran up sloped stone, we ran up stairways that seemed like the one way out of Hades with Cerebrus himself snapping his three mouths behind us. All the while, I thanked the gods that I had marked our way, else we might have still been wandering those caves instead of warming by my progeny’s generous fire.

  “Gasping, we clawed at the sunlight when we emerged into the half-daylight of the eclipse. We collapsed on the rockface of the mountainside and lay there, panting like animals, hardly daring to believe we had made it out alive.

  “We marched back to our camp, empty handed of supplies, but glad of our lives. But our men were not there. In fact, there was no sign of them at all, nor any sign that they had even been there recently: no remains of a fire or refuse of any kind. And on the beach, there was no boat — nor was there a single splinter of the wreckage. There was simply sand and more sand and questions.

  “That put us on our toes. Had they been attacked? Killed? Had someone taken our boat? Who?

  “The faerie folk were our obvious first suspects. Swords drawn, we walked the length and breadth of the isle, seeking our lost companions. But we did not find them. And curiously, the faerie folk were gone now as well. And the strange lights rising into the sky from the eastern volcano had ceased as well. We were alone on this accursed isle of enchantment.

  “It was then that we found a cluster of huts near the beach where our boat had been. We had missed them before as they were well-hidden in a thick copse on a high cliff overlooking the beach. The huts were made of stone and long-rotted wood. We inspected them, and found much that dismayed us — for the armor of our fellow centurions lay within, armor that was rusted through and through. The salt air, I thought at once, the salt air and the ensorcelment of this place. It had rusted the armor more hideously than it would otherwise have been.