The First Compact: The Karus Saga (The Karus Saga: Book Book 3)

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  He glanced once more at the men. The anger retreated, and as it did, cold calculation stole over him. He could not afford to wallow in self-pity or, worse, self-recrimination. Despite the sickness, the legion was still in danger. An enemy army was marching on Carthum, and Dennig was counting on him.

  The dwarves badly needed his help and they would be at the city’s gate in just three days … three bloody days! Grief would have to wait. But his revenge over Dio’s death would not. Logex would pay for what he’d done. They would all pay. He would see that they did.

  “Flaccus,” Karus said, burying his rage, shoving it deep. The cold calculation shifted into hard, professional resolve. “I’d like to introduce you to Kol’Cara. His people are elves. They’re here to help us.”

  “Elves?” Flaccus asked.

  “Kol’Cara,” Karus said in Common, “this is Centurion Flaccus, one of my senior cohort commanders and a trusted man.”

  Kol’Cara inclined his head respectfully to Flaccus, who gave him a nod of his own in return.

  “He does not speak Latin,” Karus said to Flaccus, “but he does speak Common.”

  “I’ve not learned it yet, sir,” Flaccus said, scowling, his eyes shifting from Kol’Cara to the other elves. “I only know a word or two. There’s been no time.”

  “I have made additional allies who are even now on their way, marching to us. They also speak Common,” Karus said and paused as he considered Flaccus. “Just as I have, you’re going to have to learn this new language quickly. You and the other officers will need to communicate with our allies.”

  “Yes, sir,” Flaccus said. “I will learn the language. The allies you mentioned … are they more of these elves?”

  “Dwarves,” Karus said, raising his voice a little so the men could hear him clearly. They needed good news, some hope to rally around. “We’re no longer alone in this land. We have allies marching to us.”

  “The short disagreeable bastards?” Flaccus asked.

  “Yes, them,” Karus said and then decided to return to the matter at hand. The fire in the city concerned him greatly. “But right now, I need to know if there is an immediate threat to our position in the palace district.”

  “No, sir,” Flaccus said. “We’re secure.”

  “Why is part of the city on fire?” Karus asked.

  “We don’t rightly know, sir,” Flaccus said. “It wasn’t our doing, that’s for certain. Someone from amongst the refugees must have been careless with a flame, or it could be something else. There’s just no telling. I did spirit two men over the wall and into the city to find out what’s going on. I don’t expect them to report back for a few more hours.”

  “Right, then,” Karus said, with another glance at the legionaries. “We need to get to work. Let’s move this conversation to my headquarters and begin planning, for there is a lot we need to do, including deal with the refugees … sooner, I think, rather than later.”

  “Yes, sir,” Flaccus said.

  Karus turned to Kol’Cara and switched to Common before Amarra could translate. “We’re going to my headquarters to plan and I want you with me.” He paused and glanced over at the other elves, who had been watching. “I would appreciate your boys waiting here in the garden. With all that’s happened, my men are on edge. They’ve never known of your people until today. It will take time for them to become accustomed to you … to see you as friends.”

  “You do not wish … any … shall we say, misunderstandings to happen between your people and mine,” Kol’Cara said. “Do I have that right?”

  “I’ve enough on my plate at the moment,” Karus said. “I most certainly don’t need any more headaches.”

  “I understand,” Kol’Cara said and turned to his elves, speaking in Elven, clearly passing along instruction. He looked back at Karus when he was done. “My Anagradoom will keep the dragons company while we plan.”

  We don’t need company, Cyln’Phax said. But your elves may remain under our protection.

  “That is very kind of you, oh magnificent and ancient lady,” Kol’Cara said to the dragon, while offering her a slight bow.

  A gout of flame was snorted out of Kordem’s nose, briefly lighting up the palace gardens. The dragon huffed in what was clearly amusement. Unsure of what was going on, Flaccus and the legionaries shifted uncomfortably.

  Cyln’Phax lifted her head up off the ground and turned her baleful gaze upon her mate. She did not reply.

  That was a good one, elf. Kordem made the huffing sound again. I will have to remember that one … oh great and ancient lady.

  “It spoke,” Flaccus said, in utter amazement. “I heard it in my head.”

  “That’s right, they’re not mindless beasts,” Karus said. “They speak through your mind.”

  Mindless beasts … I think perhaps my mate might be one, Cyln’Phax groused.

  Kordem huffed again.

  “I’m coming, too,” Amarra said to Karus.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Karus said and truly, he wouldn’t.

  “Mistress,” Si’Cara said, “I will accompany you. I am your guardian, your protector.”

  Amarra turned and looked to Karus in question, raising a delicate eyebrow.

  “I have no objection,” Karus said and started for the stairs. The legionaries drew aside, parting their line. Their eyes were on him as he passed between them. Karus could sense the hope in their gazes, the hope that he would make things right, fix it all.

  Only, Karus did not know if he could. Regardless, he’d be damned if he let them see any self-doubt. They needed leadership and strength right now. He would give them both. In the coming storm, he would be their anchor. He would keep the legion together, unified, and see her through … ultimately guiding them all to a safe harbor.

  As he made his way up the steps, the hobnails of his sandals cracked against the marble. At the last step, Karus hesitated and glanced back, first at the two dragons, then at the elves of the Anagradoom. It seemed they were all watching him, even the legionaries.

  He suddenly felt the burden of responsibility weighing heavily upon his shoulders. Karus took a deep breath and let it out, resolved to let nothing stop him. No one would stand in his way. He had a job to do and the legion to preserve … to save. He owed his men that.

  He also owed Dio.

  The anger surged again. The refugees would most certainly pay the price for his friend’s death. He would personally see to that. Logex, especially, would be called to account. The man would regret the day he crossed the might of Rome. With that last thought, Karus turned away and continued on toward the palace entrance, from which yellowed lantern light beckoned.

  Chapter Eight

  Karus had taken no more than four steps into the palace before he almost stumbled to a halt. Just behind him, Flaccus too came to a stop. There was a prolonged moment where neither said a word, then Flaccus spoke.

  “As I told you, sir, every one of our boys has a roof over their heads. The palace district is large, but it’s not that big. I’ve had to cram and stick them anywhere I could, and that includes the palace itself. Each man that’s sick is out of the elements. Only those that are healthy are in tents and I’ve tried to isolate them to keep them from falling sick too.”

  The corridor was one of the main arteries of the palace. As such, it was wide, with marble floors and delicately arched ceilings. From the garden entrance, the corridor stretched out to his left and right. It was filled, packed even, with those who had fallen ill. Along the walls of the corridor, the sick lay on their camp blankets, with only a narrow path between them for passage.

  A handful of the oil lamps that hung from the ceiling had been lit. Karus wondered if this was because it was night or Flaccus had been conserving the available supply of oil.

  The intermittent lamps cast a dim, flickering light down on the suffering. It gave the setting an almost surreal look, as if he were in some strange nightmare. Though Karus well knew this was no dream.
It was all too real.

  The reek of loose bowels was plain awful and so powerful it stung the eyes. Buckets had been placed every few feet to act as mobile latrines. The nearest wooden bucket was full to the point of overflowing. To his left, at the far end of the corridor, a man in a stained tunic was changing the buckets out, emptying the contents into a wheeled cart.

  Still, despite the nearness of the buckets, it appeared as if many of the men had not been able to make it to them, simply expelling their bowels on the floor or, worse, soiling themselves where they lay.

  The human excrement, much of it liquid, ran freely across the once polished marble flooring, making it slick. In other places, the waste had long since dried, creating a dirty crust.

  Karus found it stomach-turning. Worse, though, was the sound of hundreds of men coughing and hacking away. It grated at the ears, as those sickened seemed to be coughing up their very lungs.

  So severe was the coughing that one of those nearest him had bloody froth running down his chin and onto his tunic. The crusted blood had dyed the tunic he wore from a pale gray to deep burgundy and given it a hardened look, as if paint had been applied to the wool.

  It took Karus more than a moment to recognize the man as Optio Mettis from Second Cohort. The man’s lips had a blue tint to them, never a good sign. Karus had last seen the optio a little over three weeks past. On several occasions, when he’d gone out and about in Carthum, Mettis had commanded his personal escort. The man had been fit and strong before Karus had departed for the sword. Now … he was but a shadow of himself and had lost much of his bodyweight. Karus could not believe how painfully thin Mettis had become.

  Horrified by all that he saw, especially by Mettis, Karus found he suddenly could not move. It was as if he were rooted in place, like those skeletons they had found before the ruined walls of the Fortress of Radiance.

  He stood there, frozen, just staring at Mettis. The resolve he had felt moments before in the gardens was gone. It was as if it had vanished into thin air, fled at what the diseased in this corridor represented.

  The palace was a massive structure. In this corridor alone, hundreds of men lay, suffering, riding out the torments of the plague that was ravaging the legion. Being told most of the legion was sick was one thing. Seeing it with his own eyes was altogether a whole different experience. Karus’s heart nearly broke, for before him … the legion he loved was dying a slow and agonized death.

  “They don’t deserve this,” Flaccus said, in a near whisper.

  “No,” Karus said woodenly, “they most certainly do not.”

  Behind him, he heard a horrified gasp. Amarra had just entered, along with Kol’Cara and Si’Cara. The legionaries Flaccus had brought with him were lined up, just behind the two elves at the entrance. The horror Karus had felt was reflected plainly in Amarra’s expression.

  She stepped forward several paces, eyes incredibly wide. Amarra moved a few feet in the direction of the legion’s headquarters and away from Karus and Flaccus. She gazed down the hall, saying nothing, but clearly taking it all in.

  “Sir.”

  It was a weak and pathetic call … barely audible. Karus looked around for its source and saw Mettis had turned his head and was looking at him. The optio’s eyes were bloodshot and watery. A solitary tear ran down the side of his face as he stared unblinking at Karus. And the optio wasn’t the only one. Several others had stirred, propping themselves up on their elbows, and were looking his way.

  “Sir …” Mettis tried again and then made to stand.

  Karus found he still could not move as the thin man climbed to his feet. It was like watching a recently deceased corpse rise from his funeral bier. Mettis stood, wavering for a moment, and then with a groan collapsed to his knees. It broke the spell. Karus moved, caught the man in his arms, and helped to ease him back down to his blanket, which had been soiled and fouled.

  Mettis’s skin was clammy and cold to the touch. Sweat beaded his brow and, as Karus laid him down, he panted like a dog after a long run. Mettis was clearly exhausted by the effort to stand. Karus could hear the sucking fluid in the man’s lungs as he struggled to simply breathe.

  Kneeling at the optio’s side, Karus spotted a full waterskin lying next to him. He unstopped it and held it up to Mettis’s lips.

  “I don’t want to drink, sir,” Mettis gasped. “It makes me go, and I’ve gone enough for a … lifetime.”

  “Nonsense,” Karus said. He’d known men to die from an extreme loosening of the bowls, all because they stopped drinking. “You need to drink and keep drinking. Doing so will help you get better. That’s an order, soldier. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Karus held the waterskin back up to Mettis’s lips. The man drank, at first a little, the excess water running down the sides of his mouth, and then greedily, as if he’d been stranded in a desert and was dying of thirst. When Karus judged Mettis had drunk enough, he pulled the waterskin back, stopped it, and set it aside.

  “Feel better?” Karus asked.

  “I do.” Mettis’s voice was stronger. He coughed lightly. “I do, sir. Thank you.”

  Mettis coughed again, deeper, almost convulsing his entire body.

  “We all thought …” Mettis gasped between coughs, “you’d gone, left us … to our fate … even though the centurions said otherwise.”

  “Never,” Karus said forcefully. “I went to find something important to the legion’s survival.”

  Mettis closed his eyes for a long moment, before opening them and coughing into his hand. It was a terrible cough and made Karus cringe on the inside. Mettis rolled onto his side, almost curling into a ball, hacking even harder. Blood spattered the optio’s hand, which he held before his mouth. Karus rested a comforting hand on the man’s arm and simply waited.

  When he recovered, Mettis rolled back onto his blanket and lay there, exhausted, panting.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Mettis asked, his voice hoarse from his latest coughing fit.

  “I did,” Karus said, “and I’ve come back with allies.”

  “That’s good to hear, sir.” Mettis coughed again. This time, the fit was prolonged and seemed harder on the optio. When he was done, Mettis sucked in a deep, gasping breath, then returned his attention to Karus. He lifted his head a little off the dirty, rolled-up tunic he used for a pillow. “Sorry I’m not fit to serve, sir.”

  “You’ll be well, soon enough.” Karus patted Mettis’s arm and then gave a light squeeze. “It’s time for you to focus on your health, son. Just rest. That’s your job now. I need every man, understand? And you’re one of the good ones, with a bright future ahead of you.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mettis seemed to relax slightly, laying his head back onto the rolled-up tunic. “I will rest.”

  Mettis reached up a thin, bony hand to Karus, who took it. The hand was ice-cold to the touch and it shook.

  “Sir,” Mettis said, an intense look in his gaze. “Can you do something for me? Please.”

  “If it is within my power, it will be done.”

  “Check in on my men,” Mettis said, “if you wouldn’t mind, sir.”

  Karus regarded the optio for a long moment. His heart was tearing itself apart at Mettis’s suffering, and this was just one man amongst thousands. “I will. You have my word.”

  “I have a wife”—Mettis coughed—“and daughter.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Karus said.

  “Vita. She’s a fine woman. She’s always been good to me, even when I’ve not been nice to her. It’s unofficial-like, sir.”

  “I understand,” Karus said. Mettis had never received permission to marry. The policy was designed to limit the number of camp followers. Though, in Karus’s experience, such procedures and rules did nothing to ease the legion’s burden when it came to the camp followers.

  Mettis and Vita had likely pledged their devotion to one another in a private ceremony. And so, like thousands of others, his wife had s
imply followed the legion whenever and wherever it moved.

  “When you’re better,” Karus said, “you will have my personal permission to marry her, right and proper. You can make it official.”

  Clearly pleased by the news, Mettis smiled at him with blood-flecked lips.

  “Thank you, sir.” Mettis’s expression turned sad. “But I don’t think I am going to make it.” He coughed lightly and then worked to clear his throat. It took several moments until he was able to speak again. “I hear the ferryman’s call, sir. He’s beckoning me to cross.”

  “What kind of talk is that?” Karus said. “Of course you’re going to recover. You’re a legionary, one of the toughest of the tough. We don’t give up without a fight. What of your daughter? Would you have her grow up without a father?”

  Mettis got a distant look, as if he were reliving an old memory. The smile returned, a tad wider. “Tiayus … she’s the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen, sir.”

  “How old?”

  “Five.” Mettis coughed again, this time harder, wracking his entire body. When he recovered, the smile was still there. “She has long brown hair that’s nearly as long as she is. Skinny little thing … There are times I think she’s all hair.” He gave a weak cough that might have been a laugh. “It bounces when she runs and, boy, does she love to run. My Tiayus is a fast little thing …”

  “I’d like to meet her and your wife,” Karus said. “After you’ve recovered, you will bring them to see me.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Mettis closed his eyes. “Vita would like that. She’s always had nice things to say about you, sir. The men know you look after them and so too do the followers. They appreciate that.”

  Squeezing his eyes shut, Mettis coughed again, long and hard.

  “Gods it hurts …” It came out as a gasp. “Can you make the pain stop, sir? Please …”

  Karus knew there was nothing he could do to ease the man’s suffering, and that made it all the worse.