The Sea of Grass
Page 23
The first savages crashed against them and there was no more time for shouting. Marcus caught the wrist of a warrior swinging a hatchet at him and thrust his trusted sword blade deep into the man’s gut. Beside him, a legionnaire died, and the whole line staggered backward. A Gente stepped up beside him, working his longer sword blade with quiet skill as he plugged the hole in the human wall. To Marcus’ left, a Gota jumped in to fill another gap. The line ceased to buckle, but then the women and children added to the press and the sheer weight of numbers pushed them back again.
They couldn’t hold, but they had to—
A roiling wall of water battered itself against the fort’s weakened defenses and chaos broke out as the foaming wave front burst into the outer and middle baileys and swept dead, injured and still-running men and women away before it.
A smaller wave, a mere tendril of the infinitely more powerful surge, cut through the gap in the southern face of the inner wall and flattened attacker and defender alike without totally sweeping either group away. Then the great force of the passing wave was gone and men struggled to their feet to resume the battle. There were no sides anymore—no lines—just a chaotic mess of foes striking out at each other not in the hope of ultimate victory but just to hold on to life for a few more precious moments.
Marcus hacked and whirled and stabbed and dodged and hacked again. Blood sprayed through the air all around him and the screams of rage and death blocked all other sound from his eardrums. He backed into someone, then rebounded forward thrusting his blade deep into another savage’s stomach. Dying, the raider clutched at Marcus’ sword and pulled the weapon—still imbedded in his own flesh—from the Tribune’s hand.
Ten thousand needles seemed to stab into Marcus as a familiar young Aquilan voice screamed in agony. Whirling about Marcus met the eyes of Teetonka—no longer wearing his feathered headdress—but fully recognizable due to the eight-pointed star hanging around his neck.
Staggering with exhaustion, the great shaman dropped the nearly unconscious body of Seneca Liberus and muttered something incredulous in his native tongue. Without taking time to think about his action, Marcus reached out with his quick hands and snatched the man’s star amulet off his chest, yanking as hard as he could to steal the amulet.
The enchanted chain did not break but Marcus’ efforts pulled the shaman off balance making him stagger even closer to the Tribune.
Marcus took advantage of the opportunity to drive his knee solidly into Teetonka’s balls and when the shaman doubled over, he followed up with a brutal blow to the man’s chin.
Despite the pain, the shaman’s eyes sparkled as if the power of lightning were rising inside of him. He lifted hands that crackled with power and—screamed.
The shaman’s body went rigid for a moment, then he whirled about, turning his back to Marcus and exposing a dagger sticking out of his flesh just above his kidney. Teetonka grabbed hold of Seneca with hands alive with the same heavenly energy he’d used to destroy the praetorium and the young man’s whole body lit up so that Marcus could see the skeleton outlined beneath his flesh.
The legionnaire did not hesitate! Pulling the dagger free from the shaman’s back, Marcus spun Teetonka around to face him. Electricity coursed into him, grinding his teeth together and standing his hair on end, but he fought through the pain and drove the dagger straight into the amulet decorating Teetonka’s chest.
This time it was the shaman who screamed—a sound so loud and piercing that it interrupted the fighting all around them. Lighting rippled up and down his body and then the amulet burst and otherworldly gunk poured out of it just as it had from Kekipi’s broken amulet in the Fire Islands. Marcus reacted a little bit faster this time and rather than be bathed in the stuff he was only clipped by the stream—at least until Teetonka fell backward and the magical slime sprayed up into the air to come down on Seneca and him both like the rivulets of an oily fountain.
Marcus tried to shield Seneca with his body but couldn’t stop the student from being soaked in the slime as well.
Day Twenty Eight
I Regret to Inform You
“You’re a bit late,” Marcus told Evorik with a huge smile on his face.
The Gota noble eschewed the expected bumping of fists to wrap Marcus into a bear hug. “Goddamn politics!” he muttered in Marcus’ ear. “Everyone agreed that sending a relief force was important, but the damn jockeying for precedence caused half the nobles in Topacio to delay raising their forces while they waited for the Thegn to name them to head the expedition. If my brother hadn’t decided to lead it himself, we would still be shitting on ourselves back in the city.”
Marcus pulled back from him. “Your brother, Thegn Alaric, led the relief force?
Evorik grinned. “Marcus, my friend, let me introduce to you my half-brother, the mighty and all powerful Thegn of Topacio, Alaric the Third.”
Marcus came to full attention and saluted the man who was an older, grayer, version of Evorik. “Thegn!”
With a respectable lack of pomposity, the man grinned at Marcus. “I’ve heard a lot about you in the last two weeks, Tribune.” He glanced wryly at his half-brother then winked at Marcus as he mimicked Evorik’s voice. “Tribune Marcus is an amazing leader. He’ll hold the fort no matter how many savages they throw against him. He got us through the salt pan, for Fulgus’ sake. Though the heavens, themselves, fall upon him, he’ll be standing in Fort Quartus if we just get moving!”
He paused and looked about them at the still-shattered fort. “It looks like the heavens did fall.”
“They did indeed,” Marcus agreed, “but fortunately, I was not standing alone when this happened but was shoulder-to-shoulder with the stout men of the Jeweled Hills and my own legionnaires.”
The Gota behind Alaric grunted with approval. While there were Gente infantry with the relief force, Marcus saw none standing among the officers. He remembered Atta’s surprise that he had promoted Adán to Capitán and wondered how badly he had violated local custom. Well there was nothing to be done about it now.
“If I may, Thegn Alaric, I would like to introduce my officers to you.”
The Thegn graciously consented and Marcus guided him toward the ranks of his battered army. His legionnaires stood in perfect formation, backs as straight as pilum. Beside them stood the Gota in similar rank but not bothering to display the motionless discipline of the Aquilan men. Finally came the civilian Gente in their far looser lines. At a nod from Marcus, all the surviving officers stepped forward.
“As you know, Thegn Alaric, an army is only as good as its officers and I have been blessed by Sol Invictus, the Unconquered Sun, Himself, with the very best of men to support me here at Fort Defiance. First, please meet my legionnaires, Black Vigils Severus and Lysander and Red Vigils Calidus and Eolus.” Phanes had died in the final battle as the water gushed in upon them. Marcus would have to write a letter to his family. He’d mention none of the lad’s weaknesses and only the courage with which he had performed his final duties.
The Thegn nodded respectfully to each man, then stepped forward and shook hands in the Aquilan fashion—palm to wrist—with each of them. “Well done! I see the heads of savages everywhere on what’s left of your walls. Well done indeed!”
When the Thegn was ready, Marcus introduced the next man. “Next comes the heart of my Gota cavalry, Warrior Atta—a brave and capable leader of brave and capable men.”
Atta received a grin from the Thegn and the two men bumped fists in the Gota fashion. “I’m sure you will have some fucking good stories to tell, Warrior Atta!” Alaric told him. “You’ll dine with me tonight so I can hear all of them!”
Atta’s already broad grin nearly doubled in size.
The leader of Topacio hesitated as if he thought perhaps the last two officers had stepped forward by mistake. He glanced back at Marcus.
“And my final two surviving officers,” Marcus told him, “Capitán Adán Nacio and Teniente Alberto Lope, both of the cit
y of Amatista. Like my other officers, they led from the front and held the line. We could not have defeated the savages without them.”
Cheers broke the stillness of the afternoon as the Gente infantry in the relief army went wild with excitement.
Alaric turned to Marcus and lifted an eyebrow at the reaction, then turned back to the two Gente officers and held out his fist to them. Shocked, first Adán, left arm in a sling, and then Alberto bumped the fist of the Gota ruler.
“Well done!” Alaric’s voice bellowed out across the front of the fort. “Evorik, everything you said about this Tribune appears true to my eyes. He is another Juan Pablo Cazador, bringing the best out of Gota, Gente and foreigner alike. Well done!”
Marcus nodded at the complement. “Your words are very generous, Thegn Alaric. And it is good to hear that my half-brother is so well respected in your land.”
Evorik frowned. “Was so well-respected, my friend.” He stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Marcus’ shoulder. “I regret to inform you that your brother, Señor Juan Pablo Cazador, is no more.”
“What?” Marcus asked. He couldn’t quite make sense of the Gota’s words.
“He’s dead, Marcus,” Evorik told him. “Your half-brother has been murdered.”
About Gilbert M. Stack
Gilbert M. Stack has been creating stories almost since he began speaking and publishing fiction and non-fiction since 2006. A professional historian, Gilbert delights in bringing the past to life in his fiction, depicting characters who are both true to their time and empathetic with modern sensibilities. His work has appeared in more than a dozen issues of Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine and is available online. He lives in New Jersey with his wife, Michelle, and their son, Michael. You can find out more about Gilbert at www.gilbertstack.com.
Other Works by Gilbert M. Stack
Legionnaire
1 The Fire Islands
2 The Sea of Grass
3 The Jeweled Hills (coming in April 2018)
4 The Streets of Amatista (coming in June 2018)
The Pembroke Steel Series
1 Lazarus Key
2 Hearts of Ice and Other Stories
3 The Shore and Other Stories
Novels:
Forever After
High Above the Waters
Panic Button
Ransom
Among Us
Hiding Among Us (with Marc Hawkins) Coming Soon
Missing Among Us (with Marc Hawkins) Coming Soon
Short Stories
What Child Is This?
Contact Gilbert M. Stack
You can find Gilbert M. Stack at:
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