Bloody Water (Clay Warrior Stories Book 3)

by J. Clifton Slater

  “Not really,” admitted Alerio.

  “It rises to the highest level of the phalanx,” Hyllus said. “So, I joined the Navy to breathe clean sea air.”

  “Is pork and onions all right with you, Lance Corporal Sisera?” Marija yelled from the kitchen.

  “Sounds delicious,” replied Alerio.

  “It’ll give you gas,” warned Hyllus. “But Legionaries fight in line, so it’s doesn’t matter. I’ll get your food.”

  Alerio sank into the chair and spread out his legs. His thigh appreciated the position as the muscle loosened, and he relaxed. When the meal arrived, he cut quickly, and chewed slowly, savoring each bite.

  Marija limped up to the table. A bandage, wrapped around a shin gash, caused the limp.

  “Were you injured in the fighting?” asked Alerio.

  “An Illyrian dove under my blade and sliced me,” the Macedonian replied as she pulled out a chair and sat down. “Can you believe that? I don’t know what he expected me to do, fall back or collapse.”

  “What did you do?” Alerio inquired.

  “I buried my blade in the back of his skull,” Marija stated with a smile. “How are you, archery target? Or, should I call you ambush bait?”

  “I assume, you heard about the action on the merchant ship,” Alerio said. “Why would the Illyrians attack us? And why did the Greeks come to our rescue?”

  “I can tell you why the Greeks got involved,” Hyllus said as he crossed the dining room, pulled out a chair, and sat. “Athens depends on trade and shipping. Our Navy is the biggest in the region and we’ve been fighting the Illyrians for decades. Bova harbor is the closest landing to the Greek coast for ships heading to your coats, to the Capital, Syracuse or Qart Hadasht. If Bovesia were taken, it would disrupt our trading. At least until your Legionaries took it back.”

  “What about Macedonia?” asked Alerio looking over at Marija. “Do their traders pass through here?”

  “A lot more than before. We’ve had trouble with that upstart king in Egypt,” Marija explained. “Can you imagine that ungrateful wretch, not bowing to his rightful king.”

  “The king of Egypt needs to bow to what other king?” asked Alerio.

  “Why the king of Macedonia of course,” Marija said. “After all, he’s a descendent of a Macedonian General. One of our great King Alexander’s military leaders. The king of Egypt is a Macedonian and must acknowledge the fact. Isn’t that right, Hyllus?”

  “We’ve been over this, many times love,” the big man said slowly as if his words were footsteps, strolling on bird’s eggs. “Egypt has coin from their fertile grain fields, a navy, and an army. I really don’t think he owes allegiance to Macedonia after all these generations. Like Athens, Egypt is a free state.”

  “Nonsense, King Alexander claimed Greece and all the lands to Egypt and beyond for Macedonia. Athens participated in the conquest,” Marija stated. “Why can’t you see the truth?”

  “Because the only reason we sent cavalry, men-at-arms, and coin to your Alexander was to prevent him from turning his army around and marching back,” explained Hyllus. “Threaten any city with a quarter million-man army and bend over, because the city will happily kiss your cūlus rather than be destroyed.”

  “You just can’t see reason,” an exasperated Marija said. She stood and began limping away. After a few steps, she stopped, and turned around. “One day, Macedonian will sail on Egypt and take back what is ours.”

  Hyllus waited until she vanished into the back room.

  “Alerio. Do you have a woman?” he asked.

  “No. One day perhaps, but not now,” said Alerio. “Why do you ask?”

  “A warning. Do not lose your heart to a Macedonian she-devil,” the big man said. Then he winked, and added as he stood, “No matter how exciting she is.”

  Chapter 37 – The Healing Properties of Work

  Alerio spent the next four days pushing himself to show his fitness to the Medics. Except for the mission from Tribune Velius, he had no other duties. He stayed busy with gladius training of the Legionaries in the mornings, and with Corporal Cephas and Centurion Laurens in the afternoons.

  Late in the afternoon of the fourth day, Alerio stepped back and dropped his guard. The Centurion’s gladius swept up from hip level. It carved a path toward Alerio’s chest. Just before the blade could score a touch, Alerio pivoted around. Letting the tip pass his side, Alerio spun while raising and bending his arm. When the elbow was two inches from the officer’s jaw, Alerio halted the motion. Dropping his arm and turning to face the Centurion, he explained.

  “Barbarians don’t duel, Sir,” Alerio said. “They’re fluid. It’s fine, even preferable, for a Legionary to square his shoulders to the line of attack. For a Centurion, without a shield and fighting companions, you need to stand sideways in a sword fight. That will allow you forward and reverse movement to defend against an attack like the spinning back elbow. Plus, it makes you a smaller target for enemy arrows.”

  “Speaking of arrows,” the officer said as he sheathed his gladius. “I see your leg is better.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Alerio stated as he lifted his left leg and pivoted on his right. “I’m fit for duty.”

  “Or, a reconnaissance mission I assume,” Laurens stated. “I still can’t free up rowers. Even though only a few merchants are sailing, we need to be on guard. Believe me, the entire Republic and many foreign powers are screaming for Illyrian blood. My last message from Rhegium was to stay at full readiness. I can release you to full duty, but transportation is on you.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” Alerio said. “I’ll figure something out.”

  ***

  Throughout history, there were two military truths. One was Sergeants, Optios, Sminias, NCOs, or any other name you called noncommissioned officers, they ran the army. The other truth was if you wanted to know the easiest way to circumvent a regulation, avoid a duty, or find transportation outside official channels, you spoke to the oldest Private in the unit.

  “Lupus. I need transportation to Passomasseria,” explained Alerio.

  “We could steal a patrol boat,” suggested Lupus. After seeing the look of horror on the Lance Corporal’s face, he added. “Or, I could have one of my fishermen friends row you there.”

  “You have friends among the fishermen?” Alerio inquired.

  “Sure. I go to their village and clear out the snakes during my off-duty time,” stated Lupus. “You see fish parts draw small rodents and the favorite food of snakes are small rodents. One draws the other like dung beetles to a pile of merda.”

  “I’ll pay for the ride,” offered Alerio.

  “No need Lance Corporal,” Lupus assured him. “They owe me as I can’t eat, or take, all the fish they offer in exchange for my services. What they don’t know is, I always leave a few of Angitia’s beauties for the next hunt.”

  At the mention of Lupus’ goddess, his eyes clouded over and his face went slack. Alerio waited for the seizure to pass.

  “Tomorrow morning at first light?” asked Alerio.

  “Meet the boat at the Legion dock. Someone will be there,” Lupus assured him.

  Chapter 38 – The Mists of Kaikinos

  The weather had been hot and dry since Alerio arrived at Bovesia Garrison. When he left the supply building, he assumed the moon had set. As it was, the moon was still up, but hidden behind a thick layer of clouds.

  He could, as could all farm lads, smell the promise of rain in the air. A heavy mist covered the Kaikinos River. Alerio’s field of vision shortened as he took the rickety ramps down into the gray fog.

  Two Legion patrol boats bobbed gently in the flow of the river. At the end of the dock, he located fingers and a hand through the fog. They clung to the wooden planks of the dock. As Alerio drew closer, the fog parted revealing the hand’s connection to an arm, a shoulder, and finally to a hooded man sitting in a wide flat-bottomed boat.

  “Are you my ride to Passomasseria?” asked Alerio.

&n
bsp; No reply came from the man. But the hand pointed to the front of the boat and the head nodded. Alerio had his duel gladius rig and a few articles of clothing in a bag slung around his neck. He’d left all the legion gear in his room, taking only rough woolen civilian clothing. A sprinkling of raindrops hit his head and, after climbing into the tilting fisherman’s boat, he pulled out his cloak. The rain did nothing to dissipate the fog.

  The hand pushed and the boat drifted away from the pier. A splash announced the dipping of the rear oar and the fisherman began a slow, rhythmic back and forth motion with the oar handle. With what appeared to be little effort, the fishing boat nosed into the fog, creeping steadily northward.

  The boat tracked close to the right bank. Alerio could tell the location by the occasional low tree branch that appeared overhead. From what he could see of the river’s center, logs and leaves flowed by quickly in the current. The floaters let him know why the fisherman stayed near the shore.

  ***

  A long time later the boat cut across the current and at the opposite bank the fisherman ran it aground. The wood scrapped on the gravel riverbed.

  “You leave here,” announced the fisherman.

  “Is this Passomasseria?” inquired Alerio.

  “There,” the man indicated a direction upriver. Then, he advised, “In the mountains, it rains. Kaikinos rises.”

  “What does that mean?” demanded Alerio.

  “I go back to Bovesia. You walk, or return with me,” stated the fisherman.

  “How long will it take me to reach the town?” Alerio asked as he slung the strap over his shoulder and stepped out of the boat.

  “As long as it takes,” replied the fisherman. Then he warned, “Stay away from the river’s edge.”

  The boat now lighter by the weight of one large Legionary rose and lifted off the riverbed.

  Alerio watched as the boat turned, and was soon swallowed by the fog. He looked around. To his left, the land rose and became studded with small trees and brush. The gravel bed where he stood allowed for good footing, and although the gray mist limited his visibility, he could see it was mostly flat. With the river on his right, the Legionary began walking northward on the gravel surface.

  He noticed a few pebbles rolling into the river at the edge of the flat ground. Guessing it was normal when the current flowed that swiftly, he ignored them.

  After walking for a while, he encountered a stream cutting across his path. Rather than wade the swollen tributary he headed inland and climbed the bank. Despite the grass and shrub trees the ground was damp and soggy. By the time he struggled to higher ground his sandals and lower legs were covered in mud. Luckily, on the bank he found the stream narrower and easily jumped. After walking around boulders and slogging through more sticky mud, he dropped back down the bank to the gravel of the sand bar. The walking was easier even though the river’s edge seemed closer.

  He climbed twice more and was forced to leap wider raging streams. Each time he noticed the ground ran flat for a few yards from the riverbank. Then, the flat ended at steeply climbing ground. At each crossing, the ground ended at higher and higher walls until they became cliffs. Following each crossing, he climbed down to the gravel bed near the river.

  ***

  Where it had misted before, rain now fell in fat drops that clinked on the gravel and plopped in the river water. Overhead the charcoal clouds hung low as if trying to meld with the ground fog. Alerio pulled his hood up and leaned forward as he marched northward.

  His world shrunk to the soreness in his thigh and side, and worry about locating Passomasseria before nightfall. Along with the weather, his attitude grew as dreary as the day.

  Yet, he trudged onward remembering the words of the Sergeants from Legionary training.

  “Your first enemy isn’t over the next rise. Your body can take the punishment. It can take more then you believe. No, the enemy isn’t an unknown barbarian. It’s that voice inside you screaming about pain, fear, and hunger. Give in and die. Ignore it and survive. Conquer it and thrive. Because, your first enemy is your mind.”

  Further upriver a strange noise jerked him out of his stupor. For two heartbeats Alerio couldn’t understand the rumbling. It was as if a hundred supply wagons, pulled by runaway horses, bounced across a rocky road.

  He discovered the source when the river leaped up and slapped his knees. Before he could respond a wall of water rose out of the fog and engulfed him.

  ***

  Submerged, choking, and tumbling in the raging water, Alerio felt helpless. Ever since he outgrew being a timid farm lad being chased by older teens, he had depended on his strength and skills to survive. But, his was no match for the power of the water. It bent him, twisted him, filled his nose and mouth, and confused his mind. For a heartbeat, Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera surrendered to fates.

  “Your first enemy isn’t over the next rise. Your body can take the punishment.”

  The words cut through the lethargy, focusing his mind, and energizing his limbs.

  Alerio fought the tumbling water to pull his knees and elbows in close to his body. Tucked as he was, he rolled faster without any idea of direction. Up, down, the location of the surface or the riverbed was impossible to judge.

  “Your body can take the punishment. It can take more then you believe. No, the enemy isn’t an unknown barbarian.”

  His legs shot out and he began a swim-kick. Along with the legs, he thrust out his arms. Like a water wheel in a stream, the raging water turned his body end-over-end. On the second rotation, his legs touched the riverbed and he kicked off. With lungs screaming for air, he burst through the surface and gulped down a deep breath.

  “It’s that voice inside you screaming about pain, fear, and hunger.”

  Before the water sucked him down again, he spied the shoreline. Underwater, in the turbulence, he kicked and angled for the riverbank. Fighting the current that strove to pull him toward center stream, he swam. He floundered in the rolling water and was bent sideways. Yet, he kicked and swam some more.

  “Give in and die. Ignore it and survive.”

  Another breath, and a view of the bank gave Alerio hope. With energy waning and his body failing, he remembered.

  “Conquer it and thrive.”

  Alerio’s face broke the surface. Rather than lifting it as a drowning man would, he turned his head to the side and inhaled deeply. Legionaries learned to swim. Some better than others, but all Legion warriors could swim. For the next six heartbeats Alerio kicked hard and stroked powerfully until he felt his heart would burst.

  One hand touched dirt. Then his other hand gripped the base of a shrub tree. Alerio’s arm acted as a fulcrum swinging his body in an arc until it slammed into the riverbank. With the last of his strength, he clawed at mud and reeds as he pulled his body clear of the water.

  With the side of his face pressed against the mud, he whispered, “Because, your first enemy is your mind.”

  When his breath returned to normal, Alerio rose to his knees. His face was hot from the frantic swim and he tilted it skyward to feel the rain. Glancing back, he noted the water lapping at the top of the riverbank. Realizing the river could rise more, he looked to the line of steep hills in front of him.

  They were almost cliff like and as exhausted as he was, he knew climbing was impossible. He trudged to the base of the cliffs and walked along the rocky face looking for access to higher ground. Fifty feet from where he emerged from the river he came upon a break in the cliff face. A rushing creek created a mini waterfall; the heavy flow poured from the saddle between the hills, over the riverbank before disappearing in the boiling river water. Spying a ledge on this side of the quickly flowing creek, he stepped on a large rock and placed his hands on the sheer rock face.

  Gazing up he located foot and hand holds and began to climb. Three small outcrops later he rolled onto a ledge. Far below, the river rose and its fast-moving water flooded the ground between the riverbank and the base of the c
liffs.

  Exhausted, Alerio pulled the strap over his head and jerked up his hood. Using the pack as a pillow, he curled up in the cloak and went to sleep.

  Chapter 39 – Strangers in the Rain

  It was near dark when the sound of voices awakened him. Peering out from under the hood, he almost called out. But the two men standing on the other side of the stream were too well armed to be farmers, hunters, or trappers.

  They carried short Greek style swords on one hip and long fighting knives on the other. Both were muscular and wore thick soled, high sided sandals on their feet. Although not in uniforms or armored, they looked as if they would be comfortable in military garb. It was in the confident way they carried themselves, and the thick set of their shoulders. Alerio remained hidden and watched.

  The men stopped at the edge of the saddle and one pointed down at the flooding river.

  “Like I told you. We’ll not hear from the Sergeant tonight or tomorrow,” he announced.

  “How could you be so sure?” asked the other.

  “I watched the clouds close in on the mountains,” the first man explained. “It’s been raining up there since yesterday. All that water had to go somewhere. And there it is. No way he can get here from Bovesia, unless he can walk on water.”

  “I’ve seen the Sergeant do a lot of things since joining the Syracuse Raiders,” the second man said. “I wouldn’t doubt he could. But, you’re right. We’ll let the lads relax tomorrow.”

  As the men turned, the first one said, “It’s a shame we can’t go into Passomasseria. I’d like a proper drink.”

  “What? The Sergeant’s excellent beer not good enough for you?” asked the second man.

  “I said a proper drink. You know, wine,” came the reply as the two marched away from the river. “I still don’t see why we don’t clear out that town. There’s no sense in leaving an enemy at our backs.”

  “Is that a military strategy, or your opinion as a wine drinker?” asked the first man.