by CJ East
He turned to face the advancing troops, a sword in his right hand and a low-held torch in the other. He heaved a spinning sword into the chest of a Damned. The soldier dropped hard and two soldiers tripped over him, splashing in the pitch. The Damned stepped over their comrades without concern.
He was surprised they didn’t see it coming. The intelligence of the hierarchy must flow down and not up. The Damned had not connected the dots.
Kinch tossed the lit torch from his left hand to his right. The burning flames reflected in his scowling eyes. The fumes from the pitch filled the alley in a hazy blur. He chucked the torch to the feet of the regrouping Damned.
The alley erupted with flames, consuming the soldiers in burning totems. Flames swept under the catapult and over the stockpile of broken clay jars. Behind him three Damned rushed into his alley exit. He soared over their heads as their swords came down.
He landed in a three point stance. It was time to join the oncoming Auri. Argus should have broken through by now.
Kinch rounded the corner to see the skirmish had pushed through the tree line. Gold armor and white hair flashed into the Wilds. Golds and Grays fought in clumps between the trees. A gray soldier flew high into the air, thrown by a big wolf.
“Argus! To me!” The wolf raised his head and swivel his ears. Behind him fought a single red boy in a scrimmage of swords and shields.
He scanned the lines for strength of numbers while running. The Auri broke into the Wilds in more strength as scores of Damned collided into them. Auri soldiers pointed and cheered toward the flames of the tower. The Auri had battle momentum on their side.
Kinch navigated the brawls in front of him with ease. He had no heavy armor. He carried no sword. His bare feet almost flew above the forest floor. He slowed to a walk when he reached the protective Argus. He no longer feared the wolf. Fear seemed foreign somehow. There was only anger and urgency.
Lucius put a hand on Argus’ side. “Are you going to let us help?”
Kinch was scanning over Lucius’ head. He could see the edge of the Wilds. The Auri had broken through the middle of the Damned and pushed deeper into the trees. They fought the Damned on two sides as golden warriors streamed up the middle into the Wilds. They were disciplined soldiers.
He searched the middle column for Taurean.
“Did you hear me?” Lucius repeated.
Kinch shot an annoyed glance. “What?”
Lucius lowered his bloody sword. “I asked if you are going to do this by yourself. Who are you looking for?”
“Taurean. We have to execute. We can’t give them time to retreat.”
Argus snarled a chopped, throaty bark. A battling group of Auri and Damned were getting too close. Kinch plucked the sword from a fallen Damned soldier. His body snapped into a coil facing the threat. His entire presence radiated with uncontrolled tension.
Argus jerked his head at Kinch in confusion. The beast’s expression was almost concerned. Kinch turned to find Lucius studying him. “You seem different Kinch.”
“No, I’m fine.” His eyes could not meet Lucius.
“Uh huh,” Lucius scoffed.
Kinch examined the Damned sword with an abstract detachment. “Yeah. Thanks for the help back there. You know, when I couldn’t block the Duobus and I kinda sucked you in. I was trying anything to keep him out of my head. I figured out how to do it. I’m stronger now. Sorry if it got weird.”
“It got weird,” Lucius confirmed.
Kinch fumbled with the rip in his jumpsuit leg. He didn’t know why he did it, but he placed a foot on the chest of the gray man on the ground. “Seems natural doesn’t it? Like you were born to do it?”
Lucius straightened his back and lowered his gaze. “No. I take no pleasure from it.”
Confusion swept of Kinch’s face. Did Lucius not understand? Killing was supposed to be natural for a soldier. It wasn’t murder in battle. It was the purpose of warriors. It was their duty.
His blood-speckled face hardened as he scanned the middle column of Auris pushing into the Wilds. “You’ll get used to it,” he dismissed.
“I truly hope I do not.”
There was a raw honesty in Lucius. It wasn’t weakness. It was as if Kinch could see a former piece of himself in Lucius. A part being trimmed away as he galvanized his soul to prepare for more killing. Lucius was being naive, there was no room for internal conflict in war. This was kill or be killed.
The Auri were expanding the bounds of the protected column behind them. The first line of Damned in the glen was decimated. The fought in vain, their forces divided by a swelling column of advancing Auri.
He clinched his jaw and scanned the influx of golden armor until he spied a red commander’s cape. “Taurean!” He yelled. The commander strode before his squad of formidable warriors. They strode with calm purpose and a fixed gaze within the din of battle.
Taurean shouted to an unseen subordinate ahead. “Marcus! Reinforce that line! The Damned rally along the fire line! Drive them into the flames!” Kinch felt the familiarity of hard men intent on deadly action. It was a salve to his tormented spirit.
The commander stopped when he reached Kinch, sizing up the great wolf. He lifted his head to the inferno of the siege tower and the lake of fire which once held the tar pots and catapult.
The trees to the right roared with the fires from the catapults of Arx. Mars, the god of war, had been unleashed. The Auri army advanced toward the flames. The golden army was winning.
“So badger cub, you can lead us to the location of the Duobus?” Taurean said.
Kinch closed his eyes and concentrated on his mind portal to insure it was secure. He focused on the painful memories of mastery the Duobus had inflicted in the tent. A vivid impression of the unique signature assaulted him. Despair filled his mind.
Kinch flashed to Taurean. “The Duobus fears he is in a trap. He is separated from the forces of his counterpart. He mounts an offensive to disguise his retreat.”
“Where is he?” the warrior asked.
“Fifty yards…” he paused thinking of the Roman unit of measurement. “He is a little more than an actus beyond the tower.”
“Then we drive an actus forward. You and the wolf are the tip of the spear.”
Kinch tilted to Argus. The aloof animal stared deep beyond the fires. Could he sense the Duobus as well? Kinch brushed past Lucius and slapped Argus on his shoulder and broke into a jog. The squadron of warriors fell in behind them dodging between the fires.
Argus began to pull ahead. Kinch increased to a run and matched him. Argus lowered his head, weaving through the trees, tearing the soil with his claws. The two were in an open sprint when they crashed into the front line of the Damned.
The force and violence of Argus opened a wide path of slaughter behind him. A Gray was thrown against Kinch as he swung heavily into the midst of the front line. There was less open space between the large trees. The fighting was constricted and slower than the glen.
Taurean’s warriors followed through the gouge in the Damned, reusing the penetration tactic to widen the gap. A host of Auri flowed into the divide. Kinch slashed wildly. The Damned short sword was light and fast in his hand. Argus was speeding ahead, charging through the line. Damned were ripped and thrown from his path. Kinch pursued, slashing at the rebounding soldiers.
Argus broke through the rear line. He wheeled and began and tore at the line from the rear. Kinch cut down a large Gray with a stroke to the midsection to find Argus looming over him with a snarl. Kinch raised his sword to strike at the bleeding wolf. They locked eyes for a second. Argus’ ears flicked backwards and he lunged, snatching a Gray between his jaws, shaking him apart.
Auri soldiers had followed in the wake of the wolf and boy. They rushed past Kinch after the wolf. The Auri reached the rear line and kept advancing, encircling the Damned like the coils of a snake. The defenses of the Damned were again split. Kinch stomped forward, his sword held low. An Auri soldier was hunched befo
re him, a Gray pushing a sword through his chest. Kinch yelled, swinging a fast blow of his short sword. The surprised Damned stumbled. His head fell backward from its shoulders.
Kinch bent down to cradle the golden man. He was run through the upper chest and was coughing blood with wild, black eyes. Desperation, surprise, and the fight to live flashed in his darting eyes and fierce, gripping hands. He searched Kinch’s face for help. His breathing became more rapid and shallow. The wet sound of thick blood in his throat filled Kinch with impotent rage.
“Everything is going to be fine,” Kinch lied. It wasn’t fine when he said it in the Colony.
The soldier nodded in a spasm of hope, then died.
Kinch lowered the man to the ground and clutched his sword. A scowl covered his face as he stomped forward. Grays and Golds dropped in battle all around him as he walked down the center of the divide.
He stepped over the body of a Gold and felt something break inside his soul. Like the flip of a switch, he was free. He embraced the battle madness of Achilles. The menis, the superhuman fury even the gods feared. Everything was so clear now. Kill every Damned soldier.
He grimaced unblinking as he walked. Auri rushed past him. They were laid low running into the Damned. He picked up an Auri long sword, now holding a weapon in both hands. In calculated, calm motions he slashed forward, hacking down the Damned. Everything around him seemed to slow. And empty.
He watched with dispassion as Argus clamped down on a soldier’s arm, pruning a spurting stump. Kinch felt no affection for the wolf - no awe or respect for his power.
His actions became automatic, like they were rehearsed. He didn’t have to think anymore. He watched himself cutting and chopping at bodies. There was a rhythm, a secret chord of music which allowed him to flow through his enemies. Piercing, cleaving, and slashing ever forward. He was as unstoppable as a river of blood pushing through the thick trees.
And the Duobus. He felt Kinch’s power and was afraid.
Kinch leapt over the last defensive line of Damned to chase his quarry. The coward was running.
Patrician
The battlements atop the wall shook with each fiery release of the catapult. Three stations of soldiers launched, adjusted distance, reloaded and launched again. This assembly line of hell belched forth flaming pots of pitch hundreds of yards deep into the Wilds.
In the glen below stood a company of Auri soldiers. They stretched in a triple-lined arc from the wall to the edge of the burning Wilds. Shields forward, the soldiers blocked the remaining Damned from joining their army.
The Damned had tried to break the barricade twice. The first time they were repelled by the two thousand archers stationed down the wall. The second time they broke from the cover of the Wilds closer to the gate. They splashed upon the Auri shields and were pushed into the fires at the point of their lances. The bodies of the Damned littered the field by the thousands.
Justinius held Amica as she prayed and wept. “Can you sense him, my child?”
Amica answered, “He has turned completely. His power has grown beyond the reach of most. The Duobus fears him and flees.”
“Then why do you weep? What grieves you?”
“He drowns in an ocean of anger. He burns with a dark energy of intensity which I have never felt. The one exception is the essence of Drakon himself.”
“Amica, if the young man is indeed the One Foretold, the path is not a level grade. The path is steep and fraught with despair. The Prophet does not bring peace and joy. He ushers in a bitter era of loss and sorrow tinged with justice.”
“This I know. It is only the doubt, the Little Death which makes me question. If he is not the one for which we await, there is no return for this boy. His essence is consumed. He has yielded to the Father of Lies and taken strength in the dark fruits of his tree.”
“You love the boy as your own, do you not?”
Amica’s shoulders caved as a spasm bowed her frame. Justinius comforted her, pulling her shoulder into him. He stole a glance to the elders behind.
Justinius whispered as he stared to the field of slaughter. “Peace child. You must not forget your station. You are the spiritual right hand of our people, as your Father before you.” He clasped her hand in his. “Lamia would direct her words to pare you down to a broken little girl. Let God be your strength when you are weak. Your faith and love is the strongest of all the Coccino. What the Lord has given as a gift, do not despise.”
At his words Amica straightened her spine, took a deep breath and looked far afield.
Justinius took a deep breath and set his eyes to the field as well. He spoke in a slow, loud voice. “I am encouraged by the Outlander’s fall to the Eater of Souls. This day will draw sharp lines. Questions which reside in darkness will be brought into the light. If our deliverance is at hand, this day will mark the Coccino people’s path.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the Elders behind them.
An Auri boy appeared with his hands on the edge of the wall, peering to see the faces of the Coccino council. His eyes flashed with recognition and he lowered his head and raised his palms. “Hail Justinius and the Red Council. I bring tidings from the Patrician of Arx. He requests your attendance in this very overlook. In truth, he approaches the battlement now.”
Justinius nodded to the golden boy. “Thank you my boy. Your message is well delivered and well received.” He turned to his council. “Let us position ourselves here to the side. This position of honor we will reserve for the Patrician. Amica you will stand next to me. I would dissuade the council from disclosing the Coccino interest in these events. Suffer me to speak with one voice for the council, that we may be purposeful in our intent. I beg you this indulgence.” He lowered his head and raised his palms to the circle of white togas.
Tomas glanced from side to side. The council looked to him in anticipation. “Justinius, we know your heart for your people. You have served us long and faithfully. Do we have an assurance your words will not commit this council to action? You will not speak of our deliverance until we have seen with our own eyes?”
Justinius gazed upon the man. He crossed his wrinkled hands before him. “It will be as you have spoken.”
Tomas surveyed the red men of the council. Some nodded in affirmation while others stared to Justinius. “Your interests have never been above those of the Coccino. The Patrician is a shrewd leader and will seek ways to derive our motivations. It is best if the council has one voice.” Tomas bowed his hands and raised his palms. “May the Lord anoint your lips with wisdom. We defer to your authority.”
The old man nodded. “May your words speed from your mouth to God’s ear, Tomas.”
He walked with aged urgency to the stone stairway of the back wall. Looking down he saw the empty litter with four servants standing next to their carrying poles. The royal procession was half way up the stairs. He saw the Patrician clad in a toga embroidered with thick bands of intricate golden thread. A simple thin crown ringed his white hair.
The Patrician walked with an Auri officer, General Scipio. The General pointed back toward the center of the wall. With a sweeping motion he rested to the top of the stair, where Justinius stood.
Justinius locked the Patrician’s eyes for a moment. The Patrician broke his gaze and motioned to the General to proceed with haste.
Justinius lifted his face to the light of the Small Dome and mumbled a prayer. “He comes,” he said to the council. He took his position next to Amica and reminded them all, “The Patrician has served two masters for many years. The Caesar of the Large Dome and Drakon of our Small Dome. He has lived these many seasons holding the wolf by the ears due to his shrewdness and cunning. May we be half as blessed.”
The herald boy was the first to mount the wall from the stairs followed by an elite squad of Auri guards. They split in two lines. The first forming a line against the catapult stand across from the council. The second marched behind the council with loud, intimidating steps.
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Next to appear was the Patrician and General Scipio. The Patrician walked in consideration as he listened to the gesticulating General. When he looked up, he walked ahead of the General with his arms open wide.
“It is the whole Coccino Council. Fully assembled at such short notice.”
The council motioned in submission and respect. Justinius spoke, “Your Excellency, your herald found us here shortly after our arrival.”
An amused expression made the old man’s face glow as he looked to the young boy. “Of course. He is the son of Senator Piso. Already he is more perceptive than his simpleton father. Then you are witness to the drubbing General Scipio has dealt the Damned?”
“This I have. General, you are a master of your craft and on behalf of the grateful Coccino we honor the bravery of your men.”
General Scipio bowed at the compliment. “The honor is ours to fight and die for the protection of Arx, Magistrate Justinius.”
The Patrician strode to the stone rampart and surveyed the destruction. Fires raged where the catapults had flung their destruction to their outer limits. A swath of conflagration a hundred yards wide and three hundred yards deep burned with intensity.
His eyes followed the smoke to the cavern ceiling. “Historian, how long will the rains linger?”
A small man self-consciously walked forward, unsure what to do with his hands. “In 1737 the rainy season in the Small Dome lasted for two years. Albeit the fire was much larger than this. If the fire is restricted to its current boundary, the Small Dome should experience less than a full year of cleansing.”
The Patrician stared at the glowing ceiling, deep in thought. “And how many died in 1738?”
The historian wrung his hands. “The official number was fifty thousand. Other accounts estimate one out of four. Mostly the young and the old.”
The Patrician laughed. “The reign of Patrician Aurelius. Do your agents keep two system of records for my reign as well?”
