Lost Legio IX: The Karus Saga

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  Delvaris and Amarra pulled themselves to their feet. Karus just sat there, enjoying the moment. He looked up at the clear blue sky and smiled to himself.

  “I’m getting too old for this,” he said. “But it’s a good day.”

  “What was that?” Delvaris asked, looking over.

  “We survived,” Karus said. “That makes it a good day. Always is … surviving that is, when you really shouldn’t.”

  “So,” Delvaris said, looking a little dazed, “this is a good day then?”

  “Another good day was when I rescued you during the retreat up the hill,” Karus said. “You should have not survived that either.”

  “I don’t remember that,” Delvaris said with a frown.

  “I do,” Karus said and grinned at the tribune. “And I won’t let you forget it.”

  Amarra stepped over to him and looked down before offering a hand. Karus allowed her to pull him upright. She pulled him in close, and kissed him soundly, her soft lips pressing passionately against his. Shocked, more than he had been when confronting the orcs, Karus stiffened. Then he gave into the moment. He kissed her back.

  “Brave man,” she said, pulling back and wagging a finger in his face. “Brave, but stupid.”

  “I think Dio and Felix would agree with you on that point,” Karus said with a half smile.

  “What was that thing?” Delvaris asked.

  Amarra stepped back toward the space under the column. She was careful to move around the marble that still glowed a deep, angry red. The spot radiated heat like a smithy’s forge. She also gave the dead orcs space. Amarra hesitated, peering into the darkness. Karus was ready to object, then decided against it. The danger was past. He was sure of it.

  “I have absolutely no idea,” Karus said instead as Amarra ducked back into the hole. He followed her over. Karus saw that one of the large columns had fallen upon a stone altar, which, surprisingly, had held. Underneath the altar, on the other side, was a trap door of some sort. The space ran farther back into the darkness, primarily along the length of the column. Karus surmised that was where the orcs and demon had come from.

  Amarra picked up a stout rope that was attached to the door and attempted to tug it open. Fallen debris was preventing her from succeeding. Karus eyed the darkness beyond what he could see and hoped no more orcs were coming, nor anymore demons. Facing off against one had been enough.

  “Help me,” she said. There was desperation to her tone.

  Expelling a heavy breath, he moved over. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her out from under the debris.

  “We need to clear this first,” he said and turned to Delvaris. “Give me a hand.”

  Most of the debris preventing the trap door from opening was easily enough moved aside and cleared away. Both he and Delvaris worked diligently at it. A few hundred heartbeats later, all that remained was a fallen beam, the end of which was buried farther back in the rubble.

  “I think,” Delvaris said, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, “we might be able to push it over to the side a bit, enough so that we can open the trap door.”

  “Let’s try,” Karus said, and together, with not an inconsiderable effort, they pushed from one side, inch by inch forcing the beam away from the trap door. Rubble from where the remainder of the beam was buried groaned, cracked, grumbled, and shifted. Smaller bits and pieces cascaded down from above to the floor.

  “That should do it.” Karus let out a relieved breath as Amarra scrambled forward and pulled on the rope that was attached to the trap door. As if they had not been used in an age, the hinges groaned loudly, but the door moved. He bent down and helped her, grabbing the edge of the door and hauling it back until, with a crash, it came to rest against the altar. Karus peered downward. A set of marble steps led into darkness. He wondered why she had been intent on opening a crypt. What was hidden down there? More troubling, what was so important that orcs and a demon would come for it? Surely the encounter had not been a coincidence.

  Amarra started down the steps, but Karus grabbed her arm, checking her progress.

  “It could be dangerous,” Karus said. “With all that debris, the roof could cave in at any moment.”

  “It be fine,” she said. There was that single-minded determination in her eyes again. “It be fine.”

  Karus was unsure about that, but before he could stop her, she wrenched her arm free and plunged down the steps. A cry from above drew his attention. Karus stepped back out into the light. The green dragon was now circling above. The red dragon was nowhere to be seen.

  Why had the dragon saved them? He had so many questions. Would he find the answers he sought down in the crypt?

  Karus looked over at Delvaris, who shrugged, as if having read his thoughts.

  “Wait here,” Karus said, poised to start after Amarra. There was no sense in risking Delvaris’s life too. “If something happens, go for help. Under no circumstances are you to follow until you’ve summoned aid. Understand me?”

  The tribune nodded.

  “And keep an eye out.” Karus gestured toward the darkness that ran the length of the fallen column. It had come down nearly intact, and there was clearly a space that ran along its length. “There may be more trouble coming. If it does, go for help. Don’t be a hero.”

  “Perhaps I should go for help now, sir.” Delvaris had a grim expression on his face.

  “After the dragon,” Karus said with a sudden grin, “Ipax is likely already on his way and has summoned help from half of the legion.”

  As if in reply to that, a shout could be heard from the direction they had just come.

  Satisfied, Karus made his way down the steps, footsteps echoing loudly back at him as he descended into what he assumed was a crypt.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  It surprised Karus that the farther he went, the light did not fade as he had expected. The brightness seemed to increase with each step downward. There were no torches or lanterns. It was only as he neared the bottom of the stairs that Karus realized the walls themselves were emitting an ethereal bluish light.

  “What magic is this?” Karus’s voice was barely a whisper as he felt the walls, which were warm to the touch. He had the sudden feeling that he was descending into the depths of the netherworld, crossing over into the world of the dead. Instinctively, he knew he should flee, but something, some force, tugged him onward, deeper into the bowels of the temple.

  Amarra waited at the bottom. She looked serious yet exultant as she held out a hand to him, which he tentatively took. Her flesh was warm and tender in his callused hand. He rubbed his fingers over her soft skin, enjoying the feel. Her eyes captured his and seemed to pierce his soul. Then, with some effort, he pulled away and studied their surroundings.

  They were in a small rectangular chamber that was most definitely not a crypt. There were pedestals lining the walls with strange devices sitting upon each. At the back wall was a statue of a warrior god holding a spear. Without question, Karus knew he had seen that likeness before.

  It was Jupiter.

  But that was not what caught his attention. Like the walls, the statue was emitting a bluish light, but more brilliant, and it seemed to be increasing in luminosity. The statue pulsed with a power that Karus could almost feel. The small chamber throbbed with each pulse, and they were getting stronger, faster.

  The statue shifted, moving, coming alive. Karus’s vision swam, and his knees gave out as the presence of an incredibly powerful mind swamped the room, rolling over his thoughts as a cavalry charge rides over disorganized infantry. Karus fell forward, catching himself painfully on his hands. His heart fluttered with fear as his mind screamed in panic. He was in the presence of a god.

  There was a deep rumbling as the Jupiter took a step forward, toward Karus and Amarra. On their knees, her hand found his, and the fear, though still there, receded a little. The god advanced, towering over them in all his magnificence and splendor. So intense was Jupiter’s penetrating g
aze that Karus could not help but avert his eyes.

  “Look upon me,” a deep voice commanded. Though he wanted to do anything else, Karus could not but help look. He was commanded and his body obeyed, though his mind could only shudder in fear.

  A gilded throne materialized behind the god, upon which he seated himself, planting the end of his golden spear on the polished marble with a crack that seemed to vibrate the air. The god’s eyes locked upon Karus, and in that intense gaze, he sensed time beyond end.

  Karus was entranced. He became lost, drawn in, and yet at the same time, the eyes vanished. Karus found himself flying. He was skimming over the land, as if he were one of the dragons flying high in the sky. The feeling was exhilarating. Things looked very different from the air. Great grasslands, saw-toothed mountain ranges, snaking blue rivers, forests, swamps, lakes and oceans, he flew over them all.

  Without quite knowing how, Karus understood he was soaring over a world different than his own. He had never guessed such a thing possible, but it was. His flight slowed, and a great empire stretched out beneath him. Time passed with each mile. Cities rose from small towns and villages before crumbling to dust. The empire came and went. Kingdoms sprang forth from its ashes, followed by yet another empire that unified them all. An age was passing before his eyes.

  Is this how a god sees the world?

  “Yes,” came the reply.

  His path took him along a river where a small town was nestled securely in a bend. The town became a city, sprawling across both banks of the river and the adjacent hills. It looked like Rome, but was not. A flight of golden eagles flew above the town. Somehow Karus understood he was looking upon a possible future. Then, with a snap, he was back in the chamber with the god seated upon the gilded throne and leaning forward to look down upon them both.

  Karus felt small and insignificant in the god’s presence. The god’s mind pulsed in near-overpowering waves, beating down upon his mortal soul. The strength of it drove rational thought from his mind, and he groveled in terror.

  “Roman,” the god spoke, booming, “hear me well. You know me as Jupiter, but on this world, Tannis, and many others, I am the High Father.”

  Karus abased himself, whimpering like a chastised child who had displeased a parent. His mind screamed that he was unworthy to be in the presence of the great god Jupiter, ultimate lord and master of the Roman Empire.

  Karus had never known such fear. The power of the god’s mind washed over him like a series of tidal waves of pure will. He whimpered in terror, tears stinging his eyes, running down his cheeks. Then the waves of power abruptly and without warning ceased.

  “Rise,” Jupiter commanded. “Rise, my favored son.”

  Karus struggled unsteadily to his feet, his legs seeming to defy him. Had the god not commanded it, he would have gladly continued to cower and grovel. He understood he had no power here. It was a sobering realization.

  “This bastion of faith is one of the last refuges of my will upon Tannis.” The god abruptly became sad, and Karus felt a terrible wash of anguish roll over him, bringing fresh tears to his eyes. “Soon even this shall be gone, for my flock here hath dwindled. The faithful have been cast aside like grains of sands on a strong desert wind by those who should know better.”

  A sob escaped Karus’s throat, the grief of the god beating down upon him. To his side, Amarra unabashedly cried.

  “Hear me,” Jupiter boomed, and the sadness lifted from his soul, “for your people’s arrival upon this forsaken world has awoken my strength and will in this place, if only for a short time.” A measure of the god’s infinite power surged again, and Karus struggled to remain on his feet as it buffeted him. “You were brought to this world against my wishes, but I shall use you just the same. It is not my desire to command it, so I ask you, Lucius Grackus Lisidius Karus, Roman warrior, will you do my bidding of free will?”

  “I will do as you command, my Lord,” Karus said, surprised the words escaped his lips, before his brain caught up.

  “Good, for I set you holy tasks.” A fire ignited in front of Karus. Out of the flame came the image of a sword, a legionary gladius. “Find Rarokan, the Soul Breaker, and take it with you when you travel from this world. Though you may wield it, you will never fully control it. Rarokan is not meant for you, but another in a different time. It should be handled with extreme caution, as this weapon has a will of its own. Without the Soul Breaker, victory will ultimately prove impossible. Should this powerful relic be left behind, it will be lost to the shadow that is even now sweeping across the face of Tannis. It will be claimed by the enemy.”

  “How can I find it?” Karus asked, again surprising himself that he had the courage to question Jupiter. “I know not where to go.”

  “You have the last of my faithful on this world.” Jupiter gestured over to Amarra, who was still kneeling. “She alone honored me when others turned aside for fear of carrying my standard. She sacrificed all that she had and was for me. For that act of love, I reward thee, Amarra.”

  Amarra pressed her forehead to the stone floor. She trembled.

  “Rise, my favored daughter.”

  Amarra sat back up and then stood on legs that were wobbly. She looked straight at the great god before her, eyes fierce and proud.

  “I bless you, Amarra. I make you High Priestess of my flock. When I leave this place, take my spear as reward for your faith. It is imbued with a semblance of my will. Use it well and squander it not. Go forth with these Romans and feed them the mana of my wisdom and teachings. Be their spiritual strength, as Karus lends them strength of will. Bring the free peoples of this world back into the fold and the full measure of my power shall be restored.”

  With tears of joy brimming her eyes, Amarra said something in Common that Karus took to be an affirmation. Whatever she said, Jupiter seemed pleased.

  “Your journey shall be very long and fraught with difficulty. There will be much danger. Success is not even certain. Together, support each other, lean upon the other’s shoulder, spread my word and my will.

  “Karus,” Jupiter said. “Know that you have been torn from your world against the order of things. You have been cast adrift in the middle of a great war that has raged eons.”

  “Why?” Karus asked, thoroughly confused. “Who did this?”

  “‘Who’ matters little,” Jupiter said. “‘Why’ is the real question. You are now a central figure to that struggle, for another has tied you to destiny.”

  Karus was suddenly ripped away from the temple and plunged into yet another vision. He moved through space and time. Hundreds of worlds flashed before him, each one distinct and different from the other. They moved past in a blur that was almost dizzying in its speed and intensity. Karus found himself shocked and amazed by the wonder of it all … the sites and incredible scenes.

  The vision closed upon one world. Cities, towns, and villages flashed before him. There was yet another shift. Karus could see the people, some like him, others alien, hideous in shape … going about their daily tasks, living in peace. It was fascinating.

  The vision changed again, and this time he was presented with something he knew only too well: war. A battle was raged, with thousands struggling against one another. There was a flash of lightning and Karus found himself flying again.

  “Behold the Horde,” Jupiter said. Karus felt a measure of the god’s deep burning anger wash over him.

  An army marched in great long columns and blocks, spilled across the countryside below. The army must have numbered hundreds of thousands. The might of so many was an awe-inspiring sight. The Horde was marching toward a great citadel defended by short, squat figures. Karus sensed that he was looking upon the opening of a war very different than those he had known. This was a terrible war that would be waged on an unimaginable scale from one world to the next, burning like an out-of-control forest fire.

  There was another shift. Karus once again found himself looking upon world after world. Fighting raged a
cross each. Creatures, some familiar and others not, struggled against one another or fought as allies in purpose, which was dominance. Karus sensed some of those he saw were aligned with Jupiter and others most definitely not. He realized that what he was being shown was not a war of peoples, but a war of the gods. The thought terrified him.

  With an audible crack, the vision was abruptly snatched away. Karus found himself back in the temple. Staggered, he stumbled a step, breathing hard, as if he had run a great distance.

  “My son,” sadness laced the god’s tone, “my time here grows short, as does my power to influence events. When I leave, you both shall be on your own. Already our enemies know of your presence and purpose. They move to stop you.” Jupiter paused. “Karus, for you and your people, there is no going back. You cannot return home, ever.”

  Karus felt his shoulders sag at those words.

  “Your legion will march forward, toward destiny,” the god continued, voice rising. “You knew me as Jupiter, now know me as the High Father. Amarra and Karus, this day I give you both gifts to help you on your journey … including the Key to one of Tannis’s World Gates, which, when opened, will give you access to a new world for your peoples, a new home. Use my gifts well. Find your way from this world before it is too late. Should you pursue it, there is help here on Tannis. Forge new friendships and alliances, and escape before the shadow falls across everything that was once fine and fair. Find Rarokan, which was placed in the Fortress of Radiance and is protected by those who willfully stand apart. Do all this, and I shall reward thee. Karus, should you prove successful, you Romans shall finally have your empire without end. Fail not, for it will mean your death and the destruction of the legion you so love.”

  There was a thunderclap, followed by a flash of blue light, almost like the burst that accompanied a lightning bolt. Karus knew Jupiter had gone. The vast presence had left the chamber.

  It took Karus a moment before he could see. He slowly fell to his knees, overwhelmed. After a time, he looked up. Before him on the floor was a silver scepter, about three feet long. It had not been there when they entered. It was the kind, he imagined, a king would carry. Karus looked at it for a long time, his breath coming hard and ragged. Was this the Key Jupiter had spoken of? It certainly looked like no key he had ever seen.