Shadow Legion

by J. E. Gurley

  Marcellus grinned as he stroked his eye patch. “I have given much for the Empire. I would give all if needed.”

  Gaius threw his leg over Apollo’s back and leaped down, stretching his back to ease his tight muscles from his long, cramped journey. It took him a long moment to realize his leg had not protested his dismount. He moved it experimentally a few times and felt only a dull ache. He had no time to marvel at its rapid healing.

  “If nothing else, we will draw the enemy to us to ease young Dracus’ journey to Marzuq. First things first. Do you have food, Marcellus?”

  “Some native swill, such as it is, but it fills an empty belly. We have wine.” He smiled. “I would not leave it to the shadow creatures.”

  “Good. We will eat and drink our fill; then, we ride north slowly. We do not wish to outpace our enemy.”

  As the others feasted on fruit, warm porridge, and wine, Gaius took parchment and penned two letters, one to Sunio Atticus in Marzuq; the second to the governor of Leptis Magna. Finding the right words was difficult. Though Romans openly declared their faith in the gods, in reality few believed in gods or demons. How could they believe in creatures such as Nergal or shadowy wraiths? He didn’t include the descent into madness of Tribune Sevilius. Trampling upon his memory would serve no purpose.

  He stated that the Berbers were not responsible for the Roman deaths, not that he believed the Praetor would heed his words, but he had promised Rashid. When he finished, he called Dracus to him and handed him the letter. He removed his family crest signet ring and caressed it with his fingers before dropping it into Dracus’ hand.

  “If I do not arrive in Marzuq, send this ring to my uncle in Ischia. Tell my family I died honorably. Divide the supplies and take one of the packhorses. I will need the other for our Berber friend. Ride fast, Sesquiplecarus.”

  Dracus took the ring and placed it inside his tunic. “I will not fail.”

  Mounting their horses, Dracus Armis, two of Sevilius’ legionnaires, and the three Tebu auxilia rode away over the dunes. When they had vanished from sight, Gaius turned to Marcellus.

  “They should have a safe journey. The creatures will turn their attention toward us.”

  “That is a comforting thought.”

  “Now, my friend. I would have food and wine. When night falls, I fear we shall be too busy for dining.”

  12

  Gaius allowed Rashid to sleep as long as possible to recuperate from his injury, but a few hours after the sun had vanished and the darkness had thickened into a viscous curtain of shadows the air changed, becoming chilled and unnaturally still. The hairs on his arm rose to attention as if a summer thunderstorm were approaching, an unlikely event in the deep desert. Marcellus noticed him scanning the crests of the dunes, frowned, and slid his sword from his scabbard. He kicked Antonius Cossus in the rump to wake him and the other soldier sleeping beside him.

  “It is time to earn your pay, legionnaire,” he said.

  Before Gaius could rouse Rashid, his eyes opened. “They have come,” he said.

  Gaius nodded. “I think so.”

  “Help me to sit upright.”

  He levered the Berber into a sitting position and shoved one of the saddles behind his back to prop him up. Gaius looked into the Berber’s eyes and saw pain. “Are you well enough to use your amulet?”

  “If I am not, we shall learn soon enough,” he replied.

  He pulled the amulet from his robes. The stone glowed softly like the moon’s shadow on still water. As he recited a few arcane phrases in the ancient tongue of its creators, it sparked to life, casting a faint blue aura of light across the narrow basin. The weaker brightness of the amulet dismayed Gaius. In the warren, the light had blazed like a fire. The amulet was not only their sole weapon; it also provided their only light. They had no fire. They carried but two torches and no oil or wood to make more. Gaius wished to hold them in reserve in case Rashid’s condition worsened. From the looks of the Berber, tonight might be that time.

  “They are but a few,” Rashid said. “They are scouts rather than an army.” His voice fell to an almost whisper. “One or a hundred, it does not matter. I have little strength left.”

  Gaius had an idea. “In the warren you touched my sword with the amulet, and it glowed with the same blue light as the stone. Can you do it again?”

  Rashid looked thoughtful for a moment. “I can but try.”

  “Better make it quick,” Marcellus called out.

  The crests of the surrounding dunes were dotted with black shapes visible against the dark background only by the faint starlight behind them. Gaius counted ten; more than enough to finish the job they had started beneath the mountain at Hamad Rus. Brief flashes of red pierced the darkness as the creatures’ eyes focused on their quarry. The wind carried a soft keening that increased in volume as the creatures slid noiselessly down the slope and circled the camp just outside the reach of the blue light.

  The creatures drew closer. Marcellus retreated to stand beside Gaius and Rashid. Antonius Cossus and his companion stood a short distance away, as if fearing the Berber as much as the Inyosh. The pair exchanged nervous glances and appeared ready to run, but to their credit as legionnaires, they remained steadfast, moving in to stand on either side of Marcellus. Marcellus’ extended sword arm tracked the creatures’ movements, but Gaius knew it posed no threat to the amorphous shadow creatures.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Rashid. “If you are going to do something, Berber, do it now or we die.”

  Rashid spoke a few more words. Their utterance brought contortions of agony to his face. Their echoes lingered in the air like exhaled breath on a frigid day, multiplying, growing louder until they reached a crescendo. The amulet burst into azure flames that danced on the warped tip of each of its five points. Gaius touched the tip of his blade to one of the five points, and it, too, exploded into flames. From such a cerulean conflagration, he expected to feel heat in the sword, but it remained cool to the touch.

  He experienced a strange connection to the stone within the amulet, a prickling sensation that extended up his arm, through his shoulder, and into his chest, the center of his being. The air around him seemed to brighten, as if more wood had added to the nonexistent fire. He realized that the power of the amulet allowed him to pierce the shadowy veil surrounding the creatures and to see them more clearly. He knew that if he concentrated hard enough, he would discern their true being. He wasn’t sure he wanted too that badly.

  “You next,” he told Marcellus.

  The old warrior stared at the flames in awe and in fear but recognized that the azure fire was the enemy of the creatures. With a quick thrust, he touched his sword to the flames of the amulet. Antonius Cossus added his sword more reluctantly, almost dropping it when the azure fire danced on his blade. His companion followed suit. Now, they had four weapons ablaze. Rashid gasped a heavy sigh and collapsed onto the sand. His part in the coming battle had ended. The light of the amulet extinguished, but the swords blazed brightly.

  The Inyosh shades, seeing the amulet grow cold, attacked. Standing back to back over Rashid’s unconscious body, Gaius, Marcellus, and the two legionnaires fought back. One of the creatures shot at Gaius from the darkness. With its shroud of darkness gone, he aimed for the center of its body, where he hoped its black heart resided and thrust. To his delight, he impaled it up to the hilt of his sword. A ragged blue line, like a crack in a vase, appeared where sword met shadow. The creature’s mouth opened wider as it wailed in surprise and pain, so wide Gaius thought the creature would turn inside out. It burst into azure flame and exploded, showering both men with black ash. Working together, the four of them quickly dispatched three more of the creatures.

  Then, the wraiths changed tactics and went for the horses. Two of them leaped onto the back of the packhorse like a pair of hyenas. The horsed reared and pawed at the air trying to throw them off, its eyes wide with panic. It did no good. Within seconds, black tendrils had penetrated t
he horse’s flesh, drawing from it its life essence. The packhorse fell to the ground thrashing the sand with its flailing legs, and then lay still.

  “We must save the horses,” Gaius said. Afoot, they would never reach Castra-Augustus, let alone Marzuq.

  Marcellus nodded and tapped Antonius Cossus on the shoulder. Together, they raced to the horses’ defense. They fought off shadows attacking singly and in pairs, while Gaius and the other soldier kept watch over Rashid. The creatures retained the cunning of their human origins, feinting here and attacking there. Gaius slew another of the creatures, but he knew at some point one would get through their defenses. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one preparing to attack Marcellus’ back.

  “Behind you, Marcellus,” he yelled.

  Marcellus swung around, but Antonius Cossus acted more quickly. He delivered a two-handed blow to the creature’s head, cleaving it in half before it reached Marcellus. The wraith exploded into powder.

  “Thank you for my life,” Marcellus said.

  “I may have given you only a brief respite. The creatures are determined to end it.”

  They stood back to back defending the horses.

  Gaius’ companion watched the exchange and allowed his attention to lapse for a split second, just long enough for one of the creatures to rush past his defenses and envelop him within its ebony folds. Through the shadowy veil, Gaius witnessed the creature’s maw open wide, exposing hundreds of tiny, jagged teeth. The mouth closed over the legionnaire’s head, severing it from his body. Blood spilled down the creature’s featureless form before being absorbed into its mass. It rushed away, still embracing the dead man in its shadowy grasp.

  The horrific sight sickened Gaius. If the men of his Shadow Legion had witnessed the gruesome manner of their companions’ deaths and not just their sudden disappearance, they would have fled the desert long ago. He grimaced at the thought of more blood filling the black altar stone at Hamad Rus.

  Now, three of the creatures came at him. He killed one and fended off the other two, but they maneuvered him away from Rashid’s side. One flanked him and rushed at the unconscious Berber. As Gaius raced to intercept the creature, he felt certain Rashid would die in the next moment, dooming them all. To his amazement, as the shadowy creature touched the Berber, his body burst into a brilliant azure glow. Waves of power danced along his body like the flames of a taper, undulating slowly, growing larger and brighter. Then, like ripples from a stone cast into a pond, waves of brilliant azure radiance poured from his body, swept across the small basin, and washed over the dunes. The creature attacking him wailed and began vibrating rapidly, its shadowy outline blurring. Then, it vanished, leaving no fire, smoke, or black ash. It was simply gone.

  As the waves of arcane power passed through Gaius’ body, they left a slightly unpleasant tingle that resonated with the fluttering of power within his chest, but no heat. His gladius blazed brighter for a moment; then faded. So did the prickling in his chest. He felt empty inside, as if someone had reached inside and yanked out his heart.

  The remaining Inyosh did not fare as well. Their blood-red eyes focused on the Berber’s glowing body. Gaius thought he could detect fear in them. The first ripple of power passed through them, immobilizing them, as if skewered by an invisible blade. The ensuing ripples produced the same results as with the first creature. The small depression filled with high keening wails that passed beyond the range of human hearing. Then, like a flame blown by pursed lips, they went out, disappeared as if they had never existed.

  Gaius staggered backwards and used his sword jabbed into the sand to steady him while he fought for breath. He stared down at the Berber’s body. As the last ripple passed beyond the rim of the dunes, the glow enveloping him retreated, drawn back into the amulet as a sponge absorbs water. The light of the amulet smoldered for a moment, then extinguished. The amulet had protected its unconscious bearer’s body with a different kind of energy than that displayed when wielded consciously by Rashid. Gaius wondered of what else it might be capable.

  Marcellus sat on the ground, his sword stuck into the sand between his legs. He stared at the Berber’s prostate body as if waiting for another miracle. “Are they gone?” he asked Gaius.

  Gaius nodded. “I think they are vanquished.”

  Marcellus leaned back and rested on his elbows. His chest heaved from his exertions. “I have never seen such in my lifetime. This dealing with Berber magic, shadowy wraiths, and ancient gods is too much for an old legionnaire. Perhaps when this is all over, I will retire to a small house surrounded by trees and lakes in Tuscany with two nubile servant wenches to tend to my needs and a dog by my side.”

  Gaius sensed Marcellus needed to talk, to relieve his mind of the enormity of what he had witnessed. “You are not from Tuscany,” Gaius commented.

  “No, I was born in Gaul and brought to Rome to train as a gladiator, but as a legionnaire I passed through Tuscany once on the way to put an end to pesky Germanic raids in Noricum across the Adriatic Sea. Tuscany is a beautiful countryside. The wine is excellent, the maidens plump and large bosomed, and there is no sand within eyesight.” He reached down, scooped up a handful of sand, let it sift through his fingers, and scowled. “This accursed sand covers much but uncovers things best left hidden from view, things I wish I could somehow unsee.”

  Gaius agreed with Marcellus’ assessment. Two weeks ago, his only concern had been regaining his honor. Now, he struggled for not only his life, but for the life of the Roman Empire. That the fate of the Empire rested in the hands of two tired old veterans, a mystical Berber prince near death, and a dishonored legionnaire Legatii struck him as ironic. He caught the attention of Antonius Cossus, who still stood sword in hand staring at the dunes, as if he was unsure the battle was over.

  “Antonius, when you have rested, see to the horses. I will tend to the Berber.” He glanced around him. He no longer felt danger, but his sense of unease did not go away. To Marcellus, he said, “We should leave this place before more of these monsters find us.”

  Marcellus rose to his feet and brushed off the sand. “I can rest astride my horse.” He went to the horses and helped Antonius saddle them, whispering to them and stroking their backs to calm their nervousness.

  Gaius poured a little water into the palm of his hand and wiped it across Rashid’s forehead. Rather than fevered as he expected to find it, his flesh was cool. Rashid opened his eyes.

  “You are no imalayka,” he said. He rose up and reached for the water skin in Gaius’ hand. “No, an angel you are not, but your gift of water is a blessing.” He took a long swig of water and sighed. “They are gone?”

  Gaius nodded. “You don’t remember?”

  Rashid looked puzzled. “I remember using all my remaining strength to summon flame to your swords, and then …” He shook his head. “I recall nothing more.”

  “The amulet awakened and saved you, saved us.”

  Rashid glanced down at the amulet and frowned. “I think it spoke to me in my sleep. I do not understand the words, but the voice felt,” He groped for a word, “reassuring.”

  “The power of the amulet swept out from here across the dunes. The others might have sensed it. We must ride before more come.”

  He reached to help Rashid to his feet. To Gaius’ surprise, the Berber stood with no assistance. At his startled expression, Rashid looked down at his body. His fingers probed his injured side, and then he smiled.

  “It seems I am healed,” he exclaimed. “I feel no pain at all.”

  “More Berber magic,” Marcellus mumbled from near the horses, clearly not approving.

  “Your amulet healed you,” Gaius said, “just as it protected you from the Inyosh.” He stared at Rashid. “What else did your grandfather tell you about the amulet?”

  Rashid’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “He called it a sigil against evil.” He stared into the amulet as if trying to extract meaning from the stone in its center. Gaius touched his shoulder to bring hi
m back to the present. Rashid looked up and said, “He said it is a living thing.”

  “Living?”

  “He said no more than that. I believe he was frightened of it, but knew he must pass down the lore of it.” He frowned. “I think the stone forced him to.”

  Marcellus came over with the horses. “I gave them what water I could spare and some of that foul tasting Tebu mush. They wrinkled their noses in disgust but ate it.” He handed Gaius and Rashid strips of dried goat meat and a piece of bread. “It is damnable chewy but provides nourishment.” He eyed Rashid’s condition. “I thought we would be tying you across your horse, Berber. You look haler than do I.”

  “His amulet,” Gaius said.

  Marcellus bit off a piece of jerked goat, raised the eyebrow above his missing eye, and said, “Aye, the amulet.” He turned to walk away as if that were explanation enough.

  Gaius marveled at Rashid’s improved condition. He exhibited no outward signs of his injury. He moved nimbly, and his breathing sounded regular. By all appearances, he was as fit and healthy as any man could ever hope to be. The Berber took the small miracle of his rejuvenation in stride, but Gaius couldn’t help but feel daunted by his unnatural recovery. Until now, Gaius had considered the amulet only as a potent weapon against Nergal and his wraith minions. Now, he had to wonder if the amulet’s power might be a threat to Rome as well. A Berber army or any army capable of quickly healing their wounds would be a formidable foe.

  The four men mounted their horses and rode north. Their mounts were eager to be free of the stink of the area, and Gaius felt as they did. Though the night was dark and the wraiths could find them anywhere, he felt better riding across the flat sand sea than among the dunes.

  The remainder of the night passed without incident. They rode straight through until dawn before resting. During his southward journey from Leptis Magna to Castra-Augustus, Gaius had little bothered to observe his surroundings. His mind had been seething with disgust and resentment at his recent demotion and exile to Tripolitania. Then, it had been an endless, featureless expanse of sand, each league an identical twin to the previous leagues. Now, he awoke to the beauty of the region.