Lost Legio IX: The Karus Saga

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “What are you working on at present?” Karus asked as another of the smith’s assistants shoved a lump of ore into the heart of the forge using a long pair of tongs.

  “Pins,” the smith said, coming up next to Karus, “for the wagons, one for each wheel.”

  “How many have you made so far?”

  “We got the forge fired up yesterday afternoon. It took several hours to achieve the right heat,” the smith said and moved over to another table where a battered crate held a bunch of pins. “Finished about a couple dozen so far. By this evening, I should have another dozen. I was asked to make around three hundred pins and a thousand three-inch nails.”

  “How long will that take?”

  The smith thought for a moment. “With my assistants and working day and night … we should have the pins done by tomorrow evening. The nails will be ready the day after.”

  “What will you be working on next?”

  “Ah.” The smith scratched his chin. “Heads for javelins, I believe, is the next project. After that, repairs to swords and armor.”

  “You have sufficient material to make all that is needed then?” Karus asked.

  “Oh yes,” the smith said with a pleased expression. He gestured toward an open bin that was chock full of a mix of ore and bars of metal that Karus assumed were ready to be fired. “Likely more than I can use. There are a number of smithies throughout the city. My assistants have found plenty of material and your boys have been bringing us all that we require. If, for some reason, we run out, I am quite confident we can scavenge metal from the city and repurpose it.”

  Karus glanced around the forge. Despite the windows and doors that had been thrown open, it had been intentionally darkened. There were only two lanterns that had been lit. The other four that hung overhead were dark and lifeless. Karus knew that some smiths preferred to work in low light to better see what they were shaping.

  “I understand you found some metal you are unfamiliar with?” This was part of the reason for his visit.

  “Yes,” the smith said, “strange, but interesting material.”

  He led Karus over to a large wooden crate that had been shoved against one wall. It was filled with oddly formed chunks of metal that glinted a muted gray in the poor light. Harikas picked up a small chunk that gave the appearance of having been melted and handed it over. Karus was surprised how heavy it was, like a similarly sized chunk of lead. He handed it back.

  “I wasn’t even able to get this stuff hot enough to blush,” the smith continued, dropping it back into the crate, where it landed with a solid clunk. “Very stubborn.”

  “Blush?”

  “Glow,” the blacksmith said. “You heat iron hot enough and it glows, first reddish like, then orange, yellow, and finally white. Blushing is where it goes red. When it turns a bright yellow-orange, you can shape it to your will. That’s where we want it, but this is not iron. It is something different. It must have a use. Otherwise the smith that came before me would not have kept it here in such quantity.”

  “I see,” Karus said. “You think what you need is more heat then?”

  The smith nodded his large head.

  “Do you feel the blacksmith that ran this smithy likely was able to get the right amount of heat?”

  “He must have,” Harikas said, running a hand through his hair. “For the life of me, I don’t know how he did it.”

  “Keep at it,” Karus said, “and let me know if you learn anything.”

  “I will, sir.” The smith nodded vigorously.

  “Very well then, I’ve kept you long enough,” Karus said. He had several places he wanted to see this day, including an underground aqueduct that had been discovered. “Thank you for your time and your hard work.”

  “It was no trouble, sir,” the smith said and bowed his head respectfully.

  Karus left the smithy and stepped out into the street, where the air was fresh, clean, and cool. He had spent only a short while inside and was already drenched with sweat. Karus wondered how Harikas managed working under such difficult conditions. He figured, like being a legionary, that a person eventually became accustomed to one’s profession no matter how distasteful or uncomfortable the line of work.

  Karus’s guard detail, which Pammon had insisted upon, were waiting just outside. The commander of each legion was always accompanied by a personal guard. The section of men that had been chosen was from Second Cohort and led by Optio Mettis. The optio straightened to attention, and so did his men.

  “Optio.” Karus nodded a greeting. Mettis was a veteran of fifteen years and was a good man. He had much promise, though his dismal writing ability would likely see him never make the centurionate.

  “Sir,” Mettis said. “We stand ready.”

  Karus glanced around. He was in what could be described as an upscale mercantile district. It was very close to the palace gate, several streets over, but only around six hundred yards distant. At least, Karus thought so. Outside of the main boulevards, the city was a confusing maze of twisting streets and back alleys.

  The day before, Karus had moved the camp followers and the bulk of the legion to this district and the next one over, a residential neighborhood, where the homes were nearly the size of the palace. It had gone over without much fuss.

  Karus pulled out a small map that one of his clerks had hastily drawn of the two districts. It was a rough sketch, which tapered off to empty areas of the outer city that had not been fully mapped out yet.

  On the map, Carthum had been separated into four parts, or quarters. Karus glanced up into the sky and narrowed his eyes. Thanks to the two suns, there was no way to tell which way was North, South, East or West. The stars and moon did not help either, as they were different than those he had known. The map they had found in the hall had proven some help. What had made sense to him was the forest, which on the map was closer to the throne, meaning Karus decided that the top of the map faced the throne. As such, this was the most likely direction that was due north. Karus fully realized that he could have gotten this wrong and north as he saw it was actually south. Regardless, he had made his decision and would stick with it until proven otherwise.

  The map he now held was divided into four directional quarters: a north side, a south side and east and west. This made it easier to assign patrols, areas of responsibility, and describe specific locations for supply gathering, instead of relying upon landmarks for direction. So far, it had worked out well enough.

  Each of the smithies that had been set up were carefully marked on the map, along with woodworking shops where the wagons were being assembled. Stores of significant food caches and supplies that had been located within the two districts had also been carefully marked down. These were being moved to the legion’s new depot, presided over by a none–too-happy Cestus.

  Before stopping in on Harikas, Karus had checked on one of the food caches. It had been a merchant’s warehouse a few buildings down the small street he was standing on. Hundreds of wooden barrels filled with ground flour were stacked floor to ceiling, though there had been evidence some of the barrels had been taken when the city was evacuated. Without any workable wagons, the process of moving the stores had fallen to the mules. This was proving to be painfully slow. It would speed up once the first of the wagons was completed. With luck, that would happen today.

  Finding where he wanted to go using the map, Karus turned to his left and started walking. His guard detail fell in behind him. As Karus walked and moved from street to street, he was once again struck by how different the city of Carthum was when compared to those he had known.

  The buildings he passed ranged from one to four stories in height, with only a handful managing to climb higher. They were all lined with windows that relied upon shutters to keep the elements out. So far, Karus had only seen glassed windows in the palace.

  Nearly all of the buildings in the mercantile district were lined with shops on the first floor and residences above. Likely, the prop
rietor’s families had occupied the space over the shops. The camp followers had quickly established themselves here and in the residential district a few streets over. Karus had seen to it that the cohorts were spread out between the two districts, not only to keep order, but to respond rapidly to any threats that might appear.

  He had also established a guarded perimeter that prevented movement out into the wider city. No one was allowed beyond that line without special permission. The city had been thoroughly swept and, other than Amarra, no one had been found. The only thing that remained was mapping out the catacombs and sewers and centralizing the food stores and supplies the legion required.

  In truth, Karus expected no additional threats from within the city. The perimeter was more for the legion’s security than anything else, really to protect it from itself. Karus did not want to encourage or allow uncontrolled looting of the wider city beyond the perimeter. The chance for a fire to break out was just too great. As such, it was imperative to control the movement of his people and maintain strict discipline. Karus needed not only the security of the city’s walls, but the resources within Carthum.

  Following the map, Karus turned a corner and started up the next street. People were abruptly everywhere, going about hundred different tasks as Karus made his way toward his next destination. He passed a woman hauling a bucket of water, with two children following along in her wake. Showing no signs of the recent ordeal, they were happily playing a game of not stepping on the cracks of the paving stones and were instead hopping along from stone to stone. The mother was another story. Karus noted as the mother’s eyes silently marked him. The children began to lag behind.

  “Keep up,” she snapped at them. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Then she was gone.

  Farther up the street, Karus happened across several people gathered around a public fountain, filling buckets and small kegs. This would be used for cooking and cleaning. Karus looked them over as he passed them by. A few heads turned his way, but when their eyes met, they quickly looked away.

  “Optio.” Karus glanced back at Mettis and beckoned him forward.

  Mettis picked up his pace and fell in beside Karus.

  “Sir?”

  “How do you feel the followers are coping?”

  “We’re quartered in the administrative building next to the palace,” Mettis said, “but we spend most of our time out in the city. I think they are adjusting well enough, sir.”

  “They are coming to terms with what has occurred then?” Karus seriously doubted it.

  “I did not say that, sir,” Mettis said. “There is a lot of heartache. A lot of people lost loved ones, and to be completely honest, they’re scared, sir.”

  Karus had figured as much. It was only to be expected. He could not do much about the heartache, but he could at least provide security. With time, the fear would lessen as people became more accustomed to their new situation.

  “The followers are used to a hard life where nothing is guaranteed,” Mettis continued. “They are grateful to the gods for delivering them from the Celts.”

  “Good.” The more they accepted that truth, the easier his job would become. “I am pleased to hear that.”

  “Of course, sir,” Mettis said. “Oh, and my wife asked me to thank you personally, sir. For saving us, that is. They say you are favored by the gods, sir.”

  Karus glanced over at the optio. At first, he was not sure what to say. For a long while now, he had felt guilt at not having been able to stop Julionus’s mad plan.

  Finally, he cleared his throat. “I am happy she made it.”

  “Many didn’t.” Mettis’s look became distant and then refocused on Karus. “But you pulled us through, sir.”

  “We did it together,” Karus said, raising his voice so that the entirety of the guard detail would hear him clearly. “With the gods’ help, of course.”

  “That’s right,” Mettis said, “and you will get us home, sir. I know you will.”

  Karus noticed that the optio’s eyes fairly shone with belief. Karus glanced around the optio’s men and saw the same. It made Karus even more uncomfortable.

  What if he couldn’t do it?

  “We will get home by working together,” Karus said, voice a little gruff.

  “Yes, sir,” Mettis said in the tone of a believer, “we will.”

  There was agreement from the guard detail.

  Karus fell silent after that and, thankfully, so did Mettis. As he passed through the district, working his way past street after winding street, he noticed the eyes of nearly everyone shot his way. He could well guess their thoughts, and it weighed heavily upon him. Like Mettis, they expected him to get them home, to be their savior.

  “Ampelius,” Karus called, having spotted the surgeon emerging from a building carrying a bag.

  “Karus,” the surgeon replied, stepping over.

  Karus noticed that Ampelius looked almost rested, though there was still a weary appearance about him. Gone was the haggard look that came with lack of sleep coupled with overworking oneself. He, like everyone else, was slowly recovering, and it showed.

  The surgeon set his bag down on the ground and jerked a thumb behind him. “These accommodations are much more sanitary than where we were staying yesterday. You should know, I approve.”

  “Only the best for our people,” Karus said, taking a stab at levity with the surgeon. Karus knew it was not worth the effort. Ampelius was a lost cause when it came to humor.

  “It is nothing more than your duty to look after the wellbeing of the followers,” Ampelius said, “as it is mine to look after their health. Better living conditions will make for less work.”

  Karus almost smiled. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Mettis covering his mouth.

  “Have you checked in on Amarra?” Karus asked, wanting to move the conversation along. Ampelius could be boorish if he felt he was being toyed with.

  “Yes,” Ampelius said. “I saw her just this morning. I feel confident she will make a full recovery. The sores on her wrists and ankles will take some time to heal, of course, and truth be told, they may mark her for life. She will also have to cope with the scars of being confined for so long. Since she does not speak our tongue, this is more difficult to assess.”

  “Based on her condition,” Karus said, “do you have any idea how long she had been locked up?”

  “No,” Ampelius said. “The damage caused by the manacles was relatively fresh.” He paused, a hand going to his chin as he thought it through. “I’d say within the last three weeks, maybe a day or two longer or less.”

  “So, it is possible,” Karus said, “she was locked up before the city was evacuated.”

  “Maybe,” Ampelius said with a shrug. “I think it is safe to believe she spent two to three weeks in that cell.”

  “Thank you,” Karus said and started to step away.

  “Ah … Karus,” Ampelius said and lowered his voice, stepping nearer. The surgeon’s eyes flicked to Mettis and his men. “There is something else I have to report.”

  Karus raised his eyebrows, but checked his progress. Karus waved Mettis back so that he and Ampelius could speak privately.

  “It may be nothing,” Ampelius said, “however, I have attended to several camp followers over the last few hours who have come down with sickness. I thought you should know.”

  “What kind of sickness?” Karus felt his blood chill a little.

  “It could be a simple cold, a byproduct of the poor conditions of the last few weeks,” Ampelius said. “But then again, it might be something more. There is a commonality with their symptoms: fever, cough, and a general loosening of the bowels.”

  Karus regarded the surgeon unhappily. The last thing he needed was an outbreak of disease or, worse, plague. He very much hoped it was a simple cold.

  “Prognosis?”

  “It is too early to tell,” Ampelius said. “Give me a few days and I will know more.”

  “Ve
ry well,” Karus said, hoping sickness was not why the city had emptied out. “Keep me informed.”

  Karus bid the surgeon a goodbye and resumed his trek, following the map. He wanted to see one of the three underground aqueducts that delivered fresh water into the city. Several service entrances had been discovered. Karus had helped to construct aboveground aqueducts, but he had never before seen an underground one. That stop would be more to satisfy his own personal curiosity than anything else.

  Afterward, Karus planned to visit the east gatehouse, which was near the service entrance. Next, he would check in on Eighth Cohort before returning to his headquarters to attend to the legion’s administrative business. All in all, it would be a full day.

  Karus turned a corner and found himself staring at the palace gate just fifty yards away. A century from Second Cohort was marching out into the city. Wanting to curse, he studied the map and realized he had taken a wrong turn two streets back. With his finger, he traced out a new path to the service entrance. Satisfied, Karus started out with a purposeful stride, mindful to keep Mettis and his men from guessing that he had gone astray. For all they knew, he was strolling around to see how the followers and the cohorts were settling in.

  As he turned onto the main boulevard that led away from the palace gate, a rider came galloping up the street. He waved and called the man over. The trooper at first did not see or hear Karus.

  “Trooper,” Karus called again, this time in his parade-ground voice that had been honed over years of service. “Over here!”

  The man’s head snapped around. He saw Karus, slowed his horse, and steered his way over. The trooper dismounted, saluted, and handed over a dispatch.

  Karus opened the dispatch and read the contents quickly. He looked up at the trooper, eyes narrowing. The man was road dusty.