Bloody Water (Clay Warrior Stories Book 3)

by J. Clifton Slater

  “And two sisters,” Alerio added as he approached the Illyrian Navarch. “Do you know who doesn’t?”

  “Oh pray, tell me, Legionary of the Republic,” Cetea said as he shuffled to his left.

  Alerio jumped to his right blocking the Illyrian’s path to the exit.

  “The farmers at Occhio,” Alerio stated as he brought his right gladius up in high guard.

  Cetea stepped back to get out from under the blade. As he moved, Alerio’s left gladius swung upward while the Legionary took a giant step forward. The Illyrian slapped the blade away, and leading with his sicas, stepped in.

  He was an experienced enough fighter not to go for the torso. Rather, his target was Alerio’s left wrist. Wound a wrist and the arm was useless. So, he sliced the air as his curved blades went for the first cuts of the duel.

  Alerio, to Cetea’s surprise, didn’t pull the arm back. With the limb so close, he aimed to slice the arm with both blades. Cetea leaned forward so they would bite deeper; sufficiently deep to end the fight. Or at least, stop the Legionary, and allow Cetea to make it to the exit.

  The curved blades closed with the Legionary’s flesh. Then, the gladius fell from Alerio’s hand. A puzzled thought ran through the Illyrian’s mind at the action.

  Both of Cetea’s arms jerked to a stop. The Legionary stood with one leg far to the front in a split legged stance. His left forearm was bent at the elbow and in contact with the inside of the Illyrian’s wrists.

  Although it stopped the blades, it was a poor defense. All Cetea needed to do was…

  The right gladius tapped the pirate leader on the crown of his head and he crumpled to the carpeted floor.

  “Just kill him,” the Spartan urged.

  Alerio ignored Helicaon as he tied strips of cloth high on Cetea’s ankles and around his wrists.

  “Navarch Martinus Cetea. Wake up,” Alerio said as he tapped the Illyrian’s cheek. “I want you alert for this.”

  “For what?” asked an obviously groggy Cetea.

  “Making sport,” Alerio said as he hacked at Cetea’s ankles.

  Cetea screamed as the bones crumbled, the tendons separated, and the nerves reported the pain to his brain.

  “That was for the old men and old women,” Alerio said as he jerked the blade out of the crippling ankle wounds. “And this is for the farmer’s children.”

  Cetea felt new pain in his wrists but the agony in his lower legs overrode the new injuries.

  “And for throwing the bodies in with the women and lads,” Alerio announced.

  He ran a gladius across the bridge of Cetea’s nose.

  Oddly, the injury to his nose didn’t hurt much, Martinus Cetea thought. Although he had trouble seeing. It was so dark in the pavilion; the Legionary must have blown out the lanterns.

  Chapter 58 – Fleeing in the Dark

  A ripping sound from the back of the pavilion drew Alerio’s attention.

  “Follow and try to keep up,” Helicaon called as he stepped through the slit he made in the fabric.

  Alerio swung the gladii over his shoulders and seated both blades in their sheaths. Then, he ran to the opening, squeezed through, and sprinted after the Spartan.

  ***

  Alerio pulled alongside Helicaon further down the beach than he would have thought.

  “You should have killed him,” offered the Spartan.

  “Strategy Helicaon,” Alerio replied as they arrived at the boat.

  The beach was deserted. Alerio looked around for the archers and Lupus. A figure separated from the shadows on the top of the bank and walked over.

  “I sent the others on ahead,” the Legion archer explained. “We’ll take to the hills and work our way back to the garrison. And, Lance Corporal Sisera, Private Lupus didn’t make it. He did a good job creating the panic. So good in fact, not a blade touched him.”

  “How did he die?” asked Alerio.

  “It had to be the snakes,” the archer explained. “I was busy killing pirates, but one of the other archers saw him staggering around in his cloth cobra hood. He was holding two really big snakes in his hands.”

  “I guess the gift failed him,” Alerio mumbled.

  “Excuse me, Lance Corporal?” the archer asked.

  “Nothing. I don’t think the pirates will follow you far,” commented Alerio. “But don’t engage unless it’s necessary. Now go.”

  A line of swaying torches appeared far down the dark beach. The archer pointed at the lights before jogging off. Alerio followed the arm and nodded. Then, he reached down to help the Spartan place the boat in the water.

  “The water’s cold,” Helicaon warned as he stepped into the boat.

  “This isn’t cold,” Alerio replied as he walked the boat through the surf and into deeper water. When the water reached his chest, he shivered while climbing into the boat. “Now it’s cold.”

  “Grab a paddle and stroke,” ordered the Spartan. “That’ll warm you up.”

  The torches and a herd of angry Illyrian pirates moved across the beach. While they searched for the archers and the butcher of their Navarch, the small boat moved silently away from the shoreline.

  ***

  The boat moved easily over the swells of the Ionian Sea in response to Alerio and Helicaon’s steady paddling. They settled into a rhythm, which propelled the boat away from shore, around the biremes, and toward the fresh water. When they entered the mouth of the Kaikinos River their matched strokes fell apart. The choppy water, and swiftly moving river threatened to turn and swamp Helicaon’s small boat.

  Relentless driving strokes pushed them upriver and by the time the boat touched the pier, both of them were exhausted; the old Spartan from the exertion of paddling out and back. Alerio from the freezing swim and recovery, and the return trip. They climbed out and pulled the boat onto the wooden dock. Then, they staggered up the ramps to the garrison area.

  ***

  The Legion garrison it lay in darkness Where lanterns should glow from tents, the buildings and specific guard posts, there was no light. Also, no sounds of marching sentries, snoring men, or Legionaries talking greeted them. For the limited distance Alerio could see in the dark, they could have landed at the wrong pier and climbed to a barren plateau.

  Alerio started toward the path to Bovesia when the Spartan’s fingers wrapped around his arm. Gentle pressure pulled him to his knees. Helicaon gripped his hand and pointed in the direction of the headquarters building. Then, the supply building, and finally, the hand indicated the first of the Legionary’s tents. In his fatigued state, Alerio had forgotten about the Syracuse Raiders.

  Alerio thought about lessons from his training. While waiting for a morning assault, a well-trained unit would have listening posts. Pairs of men located in front of where the assault squads were cloistered to warn of anyone approaching. Alerio had no reason to doubt the quality of the Raiders’ training.

  Even if he and Helicaon made it up the path to the town’s entrance, they’d be stopped at the barricade. While negotiating with the Legionary guards for entry, their silhouettes would make perfect targets for any archers at the listening posts.

  Alerio reached out. This time it was him taking the Spartan’s hand. He placed it on his shoulder allowing Helicaon to follow in the dark. They soft-footed it to the base of the hill near the edge of the drop off. On one side was the silent Bovesia garrison, and far below, on the other side, the swift flowing Kaikinos River.

  Helicaon dropped his arm from Alerio’s shoulder when the Legionary bent forward. Cautiously, they climbed the steep hill having to use their hands to navigate the steep grade.

  ***

  “Terrible place for a defense,” whispered Helicaon.

  They were perched at the top of the hill and leaning against the rear wall of a building. If it had been daylight, the two would look ridiculous, like two hikers stranded on a mountain ledge.

  “Climb on my shoulders,” ordered Alerio while turning sideways and squatting down.
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  Helicaon placed one, then the other foot on the Legionary’s shoulders. Both used the wall to stand. Alerio reached up and worked his hands under the Spartan’s feet. Once the older man’s weight was resting on his palms, Alerio pressed him up and overhead.

  At first, he didn’t know if the combined height would allow Helicaon to reach the roof. When the weight lifted, Alerio dropped his arms and slumped against the wall. Despite the location and situation, he yawned. Wearily, he began creeping along the top of the hill toward the alleyway and barricade.

  Chapter 59 – The Barricade to Bovesia

  Just Helicaon’s fingertips reached the edge of the clay shingles. He pulled up until his chin came level with the rooftop. Using his chin as an anchor point, he walked his fingers forward to get a better purchase. As if he were a young boy in the Agoge, he nimbly scrambled onto the roof. Memories of Spartan training flashed through his mind. Some happy, some sad, but most bitter and better forgotten.

  He heard whispering, but could only make out two of the Legionaries on guard duty. They were dark forms against the starry night sky. Staying near the edge, he crawled to the front of the building. Below him, lanterns lit the plaza and after a short scurry along the roof’s edge, he located a ladder.

  ***

  Commander Cephas lay wrapped in a blanket. No dreams came to the exhausted Legion Corporal. If they had, they would come as nightmares of howling Illyrian pirates and dead Legionaries. Luckily, he slept dreamlessly, although restlessly.

  “Commander?” asked a voice with a Greek accent.

  Cephas didn’t think the speaker addressed him. He was an NCO; not a Commander.

  “Commander Cephas. Lance Corporal Sisera is outside the barricade,” Helicaon stated. “And there are Syracuse soldiers at your backdoor.”

  Realization came to Cephas and he tossed back the blanket and stiffly climbed to his feet. The weeks of holding down two senior NCO positions had beaten him down. Now, under the weight of Command, he was dipping into reserves he didn’t know existed.

  “Report,” he ordered the Spartan.

  “I’m not one of your Legionaries,” Helicaon reminded Cephas. “Besides, it was Sisera’s mission.”

  “Then, we had better get the Lance Corporal in so I can get my report,” Cephas said as he crossed the plaza to where Third Squad slept. “Private Procopius. Get them up. You’ve got a mission.”

  ***

  Alerio squatted five feet from the barricaded alleyway. With a hint of pink in the eastern sky, he worried about the Syracuse archers. It would only take the weak predawn to highlight him and allow the bowmen to acquire a target.

  A scraping noise, soft as if someone were lifting furniture, came from the barricade. Someone voiced a curse and suddenly the noise of lumber and boxes being tossed to the ground replaced the cautious scraping.

  A torch lit, and the shadows of five shields led by pointed javelins rushed from the alley.

  “Password?” demanded Private Procopius.

  Alerio racked his brain. Cephas had mentioned it before he left on the mission. Now, it was lost somewhere in the back of his weary brain. Four arrows slammed into the shields and the Legionaries holding the shields rocked from the impact. The archers were close.

  “Password?” demanded Private Procopius.

  Alerio recognized the voice and uttered the only thing he could think of, he growled.

  The Legionaries standing in the alleyway growled back.

  “Get in here, weapons instructor,” Procopius whispered as two shields parted.

  The movement drew four more arrows. As soon as they slammed into the shields, Alerio dove between the Legionaries. He ended up sprawled on the pavers. Procopius reached down, and without letting him stand, dragged him back while shouting, “Third Squad, step back, step back.”

  Other Legionaries rushed forward pushing an upended supply cart. Boxes were stacked on either side of the cart bed and the alleyway was again barricaded.

  “Lance Corporal Sisera,” Cephas exclaimed looking down at the half laying Alerio. “Do you need a nap before reporting in?”

  “No, Commander,” Alerio replied as he climbed slowly to his feet. “But it’s not a bad idea.”

  “We’re rationing water. But after your report,” advised Cephas after sniffing the air. “I’m authorizing a bath for you.”

  “Private Lupus didn’t make it,” Alerio said as they walked away. “Snake bites from what I know.”

  “It was bound to happen despite his squad leader’s warnings,” Cephas replied. “What about my archers? And the Illyrian Navarch?”

  “As planned, the Legionaries have taken to the hills,” Alerio said. “They did a great job of punishing the pirates during the panic. As for the Navarch? He’s alive. But, the Syracuse Sergeant isn’t.”

  ***

  They arrived at the command camp and a Legionary handed Alerio a clay mug. He took a gulp, and chewed on a piece of meat he found in the stew.

  “Do you mind if I sit?” Alerio asked as he swayed.

  “Please, before you fall over,” agreed Cephas. “I thought the purpose of the raid was to remove the leader of the pirates. What happened?”

  Helicaon walked into the torchlight and squatted down. He too had a mug of stew.

  “I’d like to hear the answer to that as well,” he stated.

  Both the Garrison Commander and the Spartan watched as Alerio chewed and thought of how to phrase his response.

  “After the harvest, my father liked to go hunting. Have you ever seen a herd of Aurochs during rutting season? The young bulls fight among themselves for the chance to challenge the dominant male,” Alerio explained. “The Illyrian captains remind me of them. If Navarch Cetea was dead, the winner would become the undisputed leader. With Cetea alive but not able to command, the successful captain will be weakened.”

  “How do you figure weakened?” demanded Cephas.

  “Because the captain is unable to challenge the leader,” the Spartan offered. “Although Cetea can’t fight, he still has the title of Navarch.”

  “Hopefully, they’ll have to return to Illyria to settle the issue,” Alerio added.

  “So, you’ve based a strategy on the mating habits of wild cattle?” complained Cephas. “What about the human desire for revenge? Suppose the new captain leader decides to attack?”

  “The pirates want the treasure from the Egyptian merchant ship,” Alerio replied. “Bleed them enough and the cost will exceed the coin.”

  “That’s what we plan to do. Get some rest. It’ll get busy when the sun comes up,” Cephas said as he walked away. Under his breath, he mumbled, “Rutting season and angry Aurochs, may the Gods help us.”

  Alerio unlaced his duel gladii rig and placed it beside his leg. After snuggling against a column on the merchant’s porch, he promptly fell asleep.

  Chapter 60 – Dawn Assaults

  Legionaries marching by woke the slumbering Lance Corporal.

  Alerio opened his eyes and looked from the porch to the plaza in the soft light of predawn. Barely perceivable were the First Squad on the left rooftop, Second on the stairs, and Third Squad lined up on the right rooftop. Another squad, the Fourth, stood guarding the rear alleyway.

  Commander Cephas stood in the center of the plaza and divided his attention between the stairs and the alleyway behind him. To either side of him stood his acting Sergeant and Corporal. These Lance Corporals waited to pass on any orders from the acting Garrison Commander.

  ‘There are no reserve Legionaries,’ Alerio though as he reached for his duel rig. Someone had left him a helmet and armor. He pulled them on before slinging the duel rig onto his back. ‘When this started there were seventy heavy infantrymen. Now, the garrison was down to forty-eight fit to fight.’

  He slid the helmet on as he approached the commander.

  “Sir. Where do you want me?” Alerio asked.

  “When it starts, report to Fourth at the alleyway,” Cephas replied. “Right no
w, follow me.”

  They jumped the short distance to the roof of a second plaza’s building and pushed between the shields of Third Squad. Cephas pointed down toward the beach.

  “There are your young bulls,” Cephas said with a hint of sarcasm.

  The three Illyrian captains and a fourth man, possible second in command of Cetea’s warship, stood around a raised platform. On the platform lay a large man with thick bandages on his ankles, his wrists, and a fifth wrapped around his head covering his eyes. He didn’t move much, although, from time to time the four captains stopped arguing, leaned in, and listened.

  “Navarch Cetea has looked better. I’ll grant you that,” Cephas commented. “They’ve been arguing since I could see them. So far, they’ve stacked the Illyrian solders on the stairs and grouped the crews behind them on the first level plaza. Then, they went back to their lively discussion.”

  “If it was you in that condition, I’d like at least one run at the enemy,” confessed Alerio. “But, I’m not sure I’d risk losing too many men to revenge your honor, Commander. My apologies.”

  “None needed. And, we have the Syracuse soldiers around back still hidden,” Cephas added. “I can’t see how they’re coordinating with the Illyrians.”

  Alerio glanced back toward the barricaded alleyway then back at the beach. After the third twist of his head, he inhaled deeply and locked eyes with the Commander.

  “They can’t be in communications. The only way the Syracusan Raiders will know when to attack is from the sounds of battle,” Alerio stated. “It’s why they haven’t attacked yet.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Cephas said. “They’ll commit when we’re busy with the Illyrians.”

  “How long will it take the Illyrian soldiers to march up two flights of stairs?” asked Alerio.

  “What are you thinking, weapons instructor?” Cephas asked.

  “That I lead three squads out the alleyway, hit the first group of Raiders, and race back,” Alerio offered.

  “And what do I do with eighteen Legionaries and two NCOs while you are leading a dismounted cavalry charge?” demanded Cephas.