Shadow Legion

by J. E. Gurley

  The short entrance opened into a large square chamber with roughly carved, unadorned walls. The torches barely illuminated its voluminous interior. Along one wall, toppled and broken statues half-covered by drifting sand and dusty cobwebs stood behind a stone altar. They were representations of the original gods of the people of Hamad Rus, long forgotten during their war with the Dark Ones.

  The altar was not of the same slick black stone as the temple in the city. Cruder, carved from the same soft, red rock as the cavern, it projected none of the sense of malevolence the black altar possessed. It was dust-filled from centuries of disuse. Any gods it represented either existed no longer or had fled the area long ago.

  Gaius scanned the ceiling but saw no bats overhead. No animal tracks marked the floor. In fact, the deep sand bore no prints of any kind, but Gaius did not doubt that the cavern was occupied.

  Watching him, Rashid said, “Nothing living enters these caverns if you fear another attack by scorpions. Perhaps the creatures of the desert have more sense than men.”

  Directly ahead, a wide opening plunged deeper into the mountain, sloping steeply downward. Gaius pointed to it and said, “There is no reason to linger here.”

  Four men could walk abreast in the wide tunnel, and the torch Gaius held above his head could not touch the ceiling. Gaius noted the tunnel looked as if clawed from the solid rock rather than chiseled by the hands of men. The ceiling bore no traces of soot or black smoke marks, as if whoever or whatever used the tunnel had no need for light. The men noticed this also and became even more pensive.

  After walking for an uneventful half an hour, they encountered the first side tunnel, smaller than the main tunnel and sloping upward. A faint breeze blew down the tunnel from the outside, bringing the scent of the desert. Gaius believed it connected to one of the smaller entrances on the surface. Fearing the mountain a honeycomb of such tunnels, Gaius dismissed Flavius’ suggestion of exploring it.

  “We cannot split our force. Leave a brazier with burning oil in the entrance. It might dissuade our enemy from emerging at our backs.” Gaius worried that if they encountered many such tunnels, they would soon run out of oil.

  The weight of the mountain above pressed down upon Gaius’ senses. The claustrophobic confines of the tunnel played on his nerves, making him eager to finish the job he had started and return to the surface. By his reckoning, they had travelled ten milliarium from the entrance, the equivalent of the length of thirty Coliseums. His left leg grew numb above the knee and threatened to give out whenever the uneven tunnel made a sharp incline or decline. Several times, he stumbled, covering it up with a quick lunge to the wall to lean against it on the pretext of examining some new feature. He clenched his teeth against the pain. He fooled everyone but Flavius.

  “Perhaps we should rest,” he suggested.

  Gaius shook his head. “Rest would not ease the ache of my old war wound. We can ill afford a delay.”

  “We can ill afford to carry you.”

  Gaius scowled and straightened up. “I will make it, Optio.”

  The caverns were more extensive than he had guessed. They had already descended to a depth well below the level of the city. Was Rashid right? Did the caverns lead to Hades? The air was warm and heavy, difficult to pull into his lungs, and tasted old and bitter, like wine gone sour. They had passed no structures, no carvings, and no rooms. He had seen no places for sconces or any type of lighting. The creatures that used the maze of tunnels beneath the earth needed no light with which to see.

  The confined space magnified each sound, echoing down the tunnel ahead of them. Even his labored breathing pounded in his ears multiplied by the breathing of three score men. With the shuffling of sandaled feet on stone and the occasional rattle of armor or scabbard, he suspected they would not catch their enemy unawares.

  They passed four more tunnels, leaving burning oil at each. Flavius considered each one a potential risk, but they had neither the manpower to post guards nor stone to block the pitch-black openings. Above them, the sun would be rising, bathing the desert in morning light. Marcellus, at least, would be safe. The Stygian depths they now prowled had never seen sunlight, had never tasted a fresh breeze.

  Twice, they rested. Gaius was glad for the respite. He sat with his back to the stone wall to ease the pain in his thigh. The men ate mechanically from cold food in their kits, while their nervous eyes scanned the walls and the tunnel before and behind them. Roman soldiers fought in a phalanx, shields locked tight for protection. If they fought in the tunnel, it would be as individuals. The untested tirones began to doubt their skill, and doubt could kill.

  The heavy stench of goat’s blood did not staunch their appetites. Hircina, meat of the goats from the village roasted and dried, caseus, the cheese from goat milk, dried apples and dates, hardtack biscuits, acetum, or sour wine, and sel. Salt not only flavored the food, it replaced salt lost from perspiration. In the desert, sel was more precious than gold, the commodity for which Rashid’s people had risked their lives.

  As if to remind him of his mortality, Gaius’ stomach awoke and began clawing at his insides like a burrowing creature. He did not know if its cause was the stench, the cancer eating at his stomach, or the tension. He poured a mound of the powdered henbane into the palm of his hand and ate it dry. The taste almost succeeded in making him vomit, but he took a sip of sour wine to get the vile concoction down his throat. Flavius eyed him questioningly, but said nothing. The medicine soon began to fight back the agony in his stomach, but it would not go away.

  By Gaius’ reckoning, it was mid-afternoon when they reached a circular chamber large enough to hold the Coliseum and the Forum combined; far later than he had planned. By its shape, it was a natural cavern; volcanic in origin, but the convergence of the many tunnels lining the walls was not. They dotted the cavern walls like rodent holes, but Gaius suspected things more dire than rats used them. The walls glowed softly, offering the equivalent of late twilight to the light-starved men. Gaius reached out his hand and rubbed it across the stone nearest him. It came away shiny, sticky, and glowing.

  “Phosphorescent algae,” he said with awe, wiping the tacky goo on his armor. “I’ve heard of such in deep caves in Gaul.”

  “Those caverns held no such sight as that, I’ll wager,” Flavius said.

  Following Flavius’ gaze, Gaius quickly discovered what had become of the rubble from the city above and from the tunnels. The roof of the chamber soared over their heads, fading into blackness with distance. A tower in its center, conceived by no human mind and built by no human hand, reached into the blackness of the roof of the enormous cavern. It was a dizzying construct, a truncated cone with many seemingly randomly placed flat protuberances and protrusions, and deep, narrow crevices and recesses. Gaius estimated it fell just short of the 12-story Coliseum, 187-Roman feet tall.

  Rather than mortared with cement like sturdy Roman buildings, the various-sized stones appeared held in place by tufts of the phosphorescent algae. Zigzagging iridescent lines traced the entire length of the tower, as if cold fire inside were trying to erupt through cracks in the masonry. If not for its location deep in the bowels of the earth and its dark implication, it would have been a beautiful sight, a wonder more marvelous than the fabled Colossus of Rhodes or the Egyptian Pyramids. In Gaius, it evoked only revulsion. It was an evil construct built for dark purposes.

  More ominous than the tower, a gigantic statue stood before it like a silent sentinel. The head and face resembled that of the frieze above the temple door in Hamad Rus, but the body passed all resemblance to human origin. Rather than a trunk with arms and legs, the creature’s body consisted of a mass of writhing tentacles tipped with razor-sharp claws, each almost as large as a man. It looked so lifelike that Gaius half-expected it to open its eyes and step down from its stone pedestal to confront them. Its resemblance to the frenzied charcoal sketch by Sevilius disturbed him. He turned to face Rashid.

  “Nergal,” Rashid whisper
ed in answer to his unspoken question.

  They moved closer. What the light of their torches revealed next horrified Gaius. He had witnessed the carnage of many battlefields; had seen the rotting carcasses and weathered bones of friend and foe alike scattered over vast plains, stony hillsides, and deep mountain passes, but the grisly scene before him chilled him to the marrow.

  “I believe we now know where the bodies of our slain men went,” Flavius said.

  A carpet of skeletons and broken bones covered the entire floor of the cavern. Some skeletons, ghostly white in their freshness, retained tatters of flesh and pieces of Roman armor or Berber clothing. Others had yellowed with age. They lay in undignified heaps around the base of the statue, as if offerings. Smashed skulls stared empty-eyed at the assemblage of soldiers from atop boulders. In the center of the cavern, a deep pit pierced the cavern floor, as perfectly round and as smooth edged as a javelin thrust through flesh. More bones surrounded the lip of the chasm. An atrocious odor, stronger than that of the fetid rotting flesh around the statue, rose from the depths on a cold, damp, dank air. Scratching sounds, like millions of rats, spilled from the opening in the earth. The men began whispering among themselves. Witnessing the fate of their fallen comrades was an ill omen. A few covered their faces and whimpered.

  Sevilius, too, stared at the macabre collection of bones. He recognized the armored corpse of Quintus Cantos, his aide, by the crest on the baldric he wore over his shoulder. A wail escaped his lips, the first sound he had uttered in hours. He broke and ran toward the nearest opening in the wall rather than the passage through which they had entered.

  “Stop him!” Flavius cried to the stunned soldiers, his voice echoing in the chamber.

  “No, let him go,” Gaius said. His eyes remained fixed on the bone yard. He had no time to worry after a demented Tribune.

  Flavius dismissed the Tribune’s exit as quickly as he would a dead enemy. He focused on the tower. “I believe the tower is our enemy’s fortress,” he said. “We would need siege engines to take it.”

  Rashid stepped forward, stopping beyond the edge of the reach of the flickering torches, his sandaled feet almost treading on the bones. “I do not think taking the fortress is an option,” he said. “Observe.” He pointed toward the top of the tower.

  At first, Gaius could not see to what Rashid pointed. Then, he noticed movement, dark shapes pouring from the openings and clambering down the side of the tower in an ever-increasing black tide. They were too distant to discern distinctly; then, an icy fear gripped his heart, and his hands turned cold and clammy.

  “The Dark Ones,” Rashid whispered.

  The ebon creatures moved with a purpose, and that purpose was to offer the intruders to their dark god. Gaius judged they had only minutes before the first of the swarming creatures reached them.

  “Bring oil,” he called out. “Hurry!”

  The rocks would not burn, but he hoped the algae used as mortar dry enough to kindle. If nothing else, they would have light in which to fight their undead opponents. Men rushed toward the tower with torches and urns of oil, giving the pit a wide berth, and began splashing oil along the base of the tower. Gaius feared they took too long.

  “Smash the urns on the side of the tower,” Gaius told them. “Save one urn for later.”

  On his signal, a lighted torch sailed through the air and landed at the base of the dark tower. Ignited, the oil-soaked algae flamed as Gaius hoped it would. Tongues of fire raced up the side of the tower, following the lines of dried algae, but his men did not have time to surround the entire tower with oil. Many of the creatures swarmed down the backside and spread out among the shadows, killing anyone who approached. He witnessed one creature explode into flame when it moved too close to the burning tower. The sight spawned an idea.

  “Form ranks,” Gaius ordered. “Pour oil on your swords and spears, and then light them.”

  Gaius doused his gladius in oil and touched it to a torch, turning into the Flaming Sword the Jewish texts said God had placed at the east gate of Eden after he expelled man from the garden. Its small flame did little to illuminate the enormous cavern, but as dozens more swords, lances, and arrow points sparked into life, their combined light illuminated the band of soldiers standing unyielding against their supernatural foe. Gaius felt pride for his men. Though obviously frightened by the swarm of shadows descending upon them, they did not panic. Though unlike any enemy they had ever faced, they now faced an enemy they could see, and training took over. Their formed ranks behind the wall of shields did not waver. They waited. The sagittarii fired first. Their flaming arrows arced through the air like bolts of lightning from the gods, landing among the attacking mob of monsters. Any creature struck by the flames exploded, leaving only a fine black powder that drifted to the earth

  In almost every battle, one soldier, buoyed by the rush of battle-born adrenaline, inevitably broke ranks and Legion discipline, and attacked the enemy, urging his fellow soldiers onward. Gaius lauded his courage but damned his stupidity. He died quickly beneath a horde of wraiths. Another man tossed a flaming javelin at one of the wraiths. The javelin passed through the creature’s body, but the wraith burst into flames and exploded. Emboldened by his success, more men dropped their heavy shields, broke ranks, and attacked with flaming swords and javelins. Arcs of flame scattered the shadowy mass, but the men became separated in the heat of the mêlée.

  “Reform ranks,” Flavius yelled, but the bloodlust of battle was upon them. Days and months of constant fear sent them into a killing frenzy.

  If their numbers had not been so few, Gaius felt certain his men could have held their ground, but for each creature that fell in flames, dozens more took its place from the surrounding openings in the cavern walls. The scene of battle became clearer as raging flames completely engulfed the tower. Burning wraiths cascaded from openings like drops of ebony rain, their ashes scattering on the breeze. The growing light forced many of the creatures back into the openings along the side of the chamber. Curiously, they avoided the rim of the pit, as did his men. Fearing the creatures would fall upon his beleaguered men from behind; Gaius ordered the cornicen to signal them to regroup. The bugler’s brass horn echoed from the walls of the cavernous space, becoming a full symphonia of blaring buccina, cornu, and tuba. The reverberations became the pounding rhythm of beaten tympanum. Even the creatures paused in their attack at the sound.

  “Back into the tunnel,” he yelled.

  He waited as the men filed past. However, Flavius didn’t respond to the order to retreat. He stood surrounded by a half score of creatures who had ignored the growing light of the fires. The optio’s flaming sword swept scythe-like through the air, but the flames were slowly dying, and they had no more oil. Gaius charged forward. He fell among the wraiths swinging wildly and clearing a path to Flavius’ side. Flavius bled from a dozen wounds inflicted by the razor-sharp claws of the creatures. His tired breath came in ragged gasps, and his blows grew weaker, took longer to execute, leaving his side exposed.

  Together, he and Flavius held back the black horde, but as Gaius watched in horror, one shadow wraith slipped beneath Flavius’ reach and seemed to merge with him. Flavius’ eyes went wide in agony. He dropped his sword and fell to his knees, screaming. The creatures fell on him, covering him in shadow. Gaius attacked the group, but when he dispelled them, Flavius was no longer there. Only his sword and bloodstained leather vest remained. Gaius stared at the spot where his friend had died until a hand grasped his shoulder.

  “We must leave,” Rashid urged.

  A sea of creatures encircled them, but they drew no nearer. The amulet in the Berber’s hand glowed with bright azure light. Any creature the light fell upon vanished in a puff of ash. Gaius glanced one last time to where Flavius had fallen and nodded. He could nothing for the optio.

  “Lead us from this place.”

  Now, the black tower, fully ablaze, pulled fresh air from the outside to feed the flames. A rush of air
swept through the cavern, raising a cloud of dust and black ash from vanquished demon creatures. Rocks and boulders the size of men broke free from the disintegrating tower and tumbled down its sides, bouncing across the floor of the cavern. Realizing the tower could collapse at any moment, Rashid hurried, leading Gaius away from the battle, madly dodging the barrage of deadly boulders. He approached the circle of waiting creatures. They fell back before the amulet’s potent radiance and made an opening through which he led Gaius.

  Two soldiers with torches flickering in the stiff breeze waited at the entrance of the tunnel.

  “How many made it out?” Gaius asked them.

  “Twelve counting us,” one of the soldiers replied.

  Gaius cursed. He had lost three-quarters of his men, and they still had to traverse the long tunnel back to the surface.

  “Is Optio Flavius following?” the soldier asked, staring over Gaius’ shoulder.

  Gaius shook his head. “The optio has fallen.”

  The soldier nodded and entered the tunnel. Before they could follow, the entire chamber groaned and shuddered. Rocks, loosened by the raging inferno, dropped from the ceiling. The entrance to the tunnel collapsed on top of the soldier, sealing the exit behind tons of rock. Boulders bounced down the slope toward them. The remaining soldier dove one direction, as he and Rashid rolled in the opposite direction. Their luck proved more fortuitous than did the soldier’s. A boulder caught him mid-stride, carrying him down the slope, leaving a bloody trail in its path.

  Gaius glanced back at the burning tower. The top half swayed drunkenly for a moment before crashing to the ground. A cloud of dust swept from the base of the tower and enveloped them. Gaius coughed to expel the disgusting dust from his lungs, groping blindly to the cavern wall to orient himself. He found the wall and leaned against it, wiping his eyes to clear them. Through a gap in the dust cloud, he saw the grotesque statue shudder, as a large boulder struck its lower tentacles. He waited for the statue to topple from its pedestal, wishing to glean some small measure of satisfaction as it shattered. Instead, it moved.