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

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “Now,” Karus said, with a glace back toward the barricade, “we wait. They have an hour to decide.”

  “And then you will burn them out?” Ugin’s gaze followed Karus’s and then shifted to the dragon high above, flying in slow, lazy spirals. “That sounds like something worth seeing.”

  “I wish I could burn the bastards to ash,” Karus said regretfully. “But we cannot afford to let the city burn. So … for any that refuse to surrender, it will mean an assault on their position. We will need to overcome them the old-fashioned way, with the sword.”

  “Now that sounds really interesting.” Ugin barred his teeth again, this time in apparent eagerness. “I hope a great number of Pattor’s followers decide to resist and fight, for I am coming with you when you attack.”

  Shouting and raised voices drew their attention back toward the barricade. He looked and saw two men climbing over the wall. They threw down their weapons and approached the legionaries with their hands up.

  One of the men suddenly screamed and pitched forward to the ground. A javelin had struck him square in the back. He cried out in agony, flailing, while trying futilely to reach the shaft of the weapon firmly stuck in his back.

  Ord stood on the barricade and it was clear he had thrown the weapon. He held out his hand for another javelin. Before Ord could make a second throw, the other man who had made it over the barricade sprinted for the cover of First Cohort. But he need not have bothered. There was the sudden clash of sword on sword, followed by much shouting out of view, behind the enemy’s wall. A moment later, Ord disappeared as he turned and climbed down to confront what was clearly an uprising within his own ranks. It was a positive development. The more the refugees killed one another, the less his men had to do.

  “Right.” Karus turned to Pammon. “Pass along orders to accept the surrender of any that come over the wall and give themselves up here and on the other two streets. Send for Felix and Flaccus. We will meet at my field headquarters in twenty minutes to finalize our plans for the assault. There are bound to be some holdouts and that will require an attack. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Pammon saluted and moved off.

  Karus turned away for his field headquarters. Behind him, the others followed, while Pammon went to carry out his orders.

  “Show some courage and resist,” Ugin said behind him to the enemy in more of a loud growl than anything else. “Don’t all of you give up now.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What’s the total count now?” Karus asked Delvaris as the tribune stepped up to the table, a battered old thing that was wobbly and literally on its last legs. The surface of the table was stained, pitted, and had been repeatedly carved into by the tavern’s patrons. A map of the surrounding city district, nothing more than a rough sketch, had been spread over the table. The map covered up the worst of the carvings, which included several phallic symbols.

  It had been almost an hour and a half since Karus had offered his terms to the refugees. Since then, there had been a virtual flood of people surrendering to the legionaries. The door to the tavern was open and Karus could see the shadows spreading across the street outside. Dusk was fast approaching, and he was feeling an impatience to move things along.

  Amarra, Felix, Flaccus, Kol’Cara, and Si’Cara were gathered around the table also. A lantern, hanging overhead, provided a dim but serviceable light.

  At another table by the fireplace, which had been lit and was heating a pot of tea, two of Karus’s clerks worked by candlelight. Sitting on rickety stools, they were bent over a table, busy entering figures on tablets. Serma had left a short while before to return to the main headquarters at the palace.

  “Twenty-one hundred and six in total have surrendered so far, sir,” Delvaris said, glancing down at a wax tablet that lay on the table. “Of those, four hundred and thirty-eight are men of fighting age. The rest are women and children. All have been thoroughly searched and disarmed. We’ve broken them up into smaller groups that are easier to manage.”

  Amarra began translating for the elves, so they could follow along.

  “Tell me of the guard you’ve placed on their fighting men.” Though he and the tribune had already discussed how the prisoners should be handled, Karus wanted to be sure the necessary precautions had been taken. When it came to those following his orders, he had long since learned to question everything and assume nothing. Doing so helped ensure no one screwed up, or at least kept the screwing up to a minimum. It was either that, or you tended to get burned by the occasional misunderstanding or lapse.

  “Four hundred men have been assigned to the guard detail,” Delvaris said. “Elements from Second, Third, and Ninth Cohorts are providing security. Each male prisoner has been secured, with his hands bound. We have broken them up into groups of fifty.”

  “Good,” Karus said.

  “Within the next hour,” Delvaris continued, “we will begin moving them to the dungeon under the palace. Once they are locked up, it will make guarding them less labor-intensive.”

  “And the women and children?” Amarra asked. A small note of concern had crept into her voice. “What of them?”

  “We’ve separated the women and children too, mistress,” Delvaris said. “They’ve been organized into groups of no more than one hundred. We’re making sure whenever possible to keep family groups together. As soon as the men are secured in the dungeons, we will begin moving the women and children nearer the palace district. Each will be assigned to a building with a guard detail of five men. Once settled, they will be provided rations. Our men have strict orders to harm no one. That said, any resistance or disobedience will be responded to in a harsh manner.”

  Silence settled upon them, broken only by one of the clerks shifting on his chair as he stretched. The legs of his stool scraped across the wood-planked floor.

  “All slaves,” Amarra breathed quietly, glancing down at the table. “It is a harsh existence we are condemning so many to.”

  “Yes, it is,” Karus agreed. “Still, it needs to be done. There are just too many prisoners for us to treat them any differently. To do so would potentially compromise our security and safety. I cannot and won’t have that.”

  “It is more than they deserve,” Flaccus added grumpily. “I understand our need for labor is great. However, we should seriously consider slaughtering them all for their betrayal, at least their men … thereby reducing our risk. Were we still in Britannia, each would now be lined up to receive an iron collar, in preparation for being shipped back to the markets. There the men would be sold to the mines and plantations, where life expectancy is measured in mere weeks. Some might have gotten lucky and been sold to the gladiatorial schools … not an easy existence either but somewhat better. The educated would have gone to house or administrative work and many of the women to the brothels where they would be whored out to any who had enough coin.” He paused a moment, eyeing Amarra. “Mistress, there would be no consideration given to family groups. Those who resist the might of Rome pay for it.”

  “The empire isn’t perfect,” Felix said, “but it is where we come from. For those living inside the empire, there was peace for the most part … Roman peace. Disturb that peace and the consequences are severe.”

  “The empire would have sold the slaves to the highest bidder,” Flaccus said, his voice sounding harsh in the confines of the tavern, “and we would have seen a healthy bonus added to our pensions. On this world”—Flaccus tapped an index finger down on the table’s surface—“cut off from Rome, the refugees will only be a drain on our food stocks and a potential risk for revolt. They have already turned on us once. I expect them to do so again. As I said, I believe we are being too generous with them. We might want to reconsider that.”

  Karus resisted a scowl. Flaccus was right. There would be headaches to come. He was sure of it. Even if he cut them loose, they might still cause problems … like joining with the Horde. He had already learned humans worked with the enemy. The
y had direct evidence of that. Garvin had been a priest of Castor, one of the enemy’s gods. How many of those they had taken prisoner were that dark god’s followers?

  Still, despite all that, he understood the current solution was not a permanent one. It was only a short-term patch at best. He simply did not have the numbers to keep those they had just subjugated in check for long.

  Should they kill all the men of fighting age? In a different time and place, had the legate ordered it, Karus would not have batted an eye. Now … he had doubts. Karus knew deep down he would not give such an order, unless he was forced to.

  “My people kept slaves.” Amarra’s gaze had become distant. “The nurse who raised me was one. So were many of the palace servants. Until I found my god, I never gave it much thought. The priests of the High Father told me six out of ten in the city were slaves.”

  “It is much the same in the empire,” Felix said.

  “They …” Amarra continued as if she’d not heard the comment, “the priests … opened my eyes to suffering … such as I never imagined. I was shown how brutal life can be for those below my station.” Her gaze swung to Flaccus. “The Kingdom of Carthum had mines, farms, workhouses, and brothels too …” Amarra took a breath that shuddered. “And yet … my father … in the end, taught me the greatest lesson of all. He showed me true cruelty, utter heartlessness … the monster within us all.” Her tone hardened, gaze becoming piercing as she stared back at the centurion. “Flaccus, I am well aware of how awful life can be.”

  No one said anything to that. They all knew where she’d been found and who had put her there. Amarra openly bore ugly scars on her wrists and ankles. She never attempted to hide or conceal them. They were a mute testament of her own personal suffering … the weeks of imprisonment, manacled in the dungeon under the palace.

  With just enough food to survive until the Horde arrived, she’d been left in complete darkness. Karus felt a stab of anger at what had been done to her. He knew her father, the man responsible, was still out there and wondered if they would ever cross paths. He hoped so … he really did.

  “However,” Amarra said to Karus, “I find this arrangement acceptable … as a temporary solution. There is a price to be paid, and for these people … this is it.”

  “Temporary?” Karus asked.

  “As you said, Karus,” Amarra said, “they should be allowed to earn back their freedom, to redeem themselves … to be forgiven. I expect you to see that such an opportunity is provided … for at some point, we must all work to make a better world.”

  “A better world?” Flaccus’s eyes narrowed as he considered her words. “A Roman world would suit me just fine, mistress.”

  “Would it?” Amarra asked, locking gazes with the centurion. “Would it really?”

  “They will be given an opportunity,” Karus said, drawing Amarra’s attention back to him before Flaccus could respond. “On that, you have my word. We can discuss how we can make that happen later. Right now, we need to deal with those who have refused to surrender and are holding out.”

  Amarra inclined her head in agreement, letting the matter drop.

  “Has anyone else come across the wall within the last half hour, sir?” Felix asked the tribune. Though he was a youth and a junior tribune, no more than a glorified aide, Delvaris still technically outranked both centurions.

  “No,” Delvaris replied. “It seems anyone who was going to surrender has done so. The rest apparently want a fight.”

  “I agree,” Flaccus said. “We’ve given them enough time. We can assume that anyone left is a holdout and has made the decision to resist.”

  “I would think so too.” Felix looked over at Delvaris. “What information have you gathered from the prisoners on those who refused to come over? Anything useful?”

  “There has been no time to aggressively question anyone,” Delvaris said. “However, Amarra has been exceptionally helpful translating for those who were willing to talk.” Delvaris studied the tablet for a long moment, clearly consulting his notes. “There is a tavern at the end of the street.” He pointed at the map, which showed the district the refugees had settled in. It wasn’t a very detailed drawing, but it was better than no map. The spot he was pointing at was where two of the three roads leading into the district came together. “About here is where the tavern is located. It is a two-story building.” He looked up. “Our understanding is there are fifty to sixty men at the most holed up here. They plan on holding to the last man.”

  “Do they now?” Flaccus said, rubbing his chin as he gazed down at the map. “Do they really?”

  Delvaris’s expression turned sour. “Apparently, they’ve made a blood pact to spill as much Roman blood as possible.”

  “That’s just what I want to hear,” Flaccus said. “In that case, we will happily give them a helping hand at crossing over into the next life. They’ll be the High Father’s problem after that.”

  Amarra frowned slightly at Flaccus but said nothing.

  “When the refugees gave up their defensive positions,” Karus said, “and began surrendering en masse, I sent scouts over into the district.” He pointed toward where the tavern was located. “They’ve located the building in question. It’s not far, perhaps four hundred yards from this spot. After hearing their report, there is no doubt in my mind the position the holdouts have selected will be a tough nut to crack. There are only two doors into the building: a front that opens onto this street here, and one in the back that opens onto this street.”

  “Any idea on the thickness of the walls?” Felix asked. “How is the building made? Plaster and wood like most of the other structures in the city?”

  “It’s older,” Karus said. “The building is brick construction, with an outer plaster coating. The scouts believe the thickness of the walls to be about a foot.”

  Felix whistled.

  “A veritable fortress, then,” Flaccus said.

  “It seems that way,” Karus said.

  “Have you ever seen this tavern, mistress?” Si’Cara asked, looking over at Amarra.

  “No,” Amarra answered, flushing slightly at the suggestion. “This area was a portion of the city that was not the finest. My father would never have approved of me venturing down there.” Amarra glanced around the seedy tavern they were in. “Not to mention here either.”

  Flaccus looked between Delvaris and Karus. “Is the building attached to another, like the warehouses in this area?”

  “No,” Delvaris said. “It’s free standing. The nearest structure’s an aqueduct. It is about fifteen feet distant.”

  “Windows?” Felix asked.

  “None on the first floor,” Delvaris answered, glancing down at the tablet again. “Four small windows, with wooden shutters, facing both main streets … enough to get a single man through. None along the side streets.”

  “Any idea if there is access from the roof?” Flaccus asked.

  “No,” Delvaris said. “We don’t know if there is.”

  “Well, we’ve brought ladders with us for assaulting their defensive walls,” Flaccus said. “I guess we can bring them along and try the roof … the windows too. We might even want to find some axes, in the event we get men onto the roof. They can chop their way through if need be and enter the building that way.”

  “However we do it,” Karus said, “this is not gonna be pretty. Forcing the building may prove costly, especially if they are determined with no hope. I would like to limit our casualties, if possible.”

  “When we planned our assault on the district,” Felix said, “we thought they might hole up somewhere. It’s why we fashioned battering rams. We can use them on the doors of the tavern, knocking them in. While we’re at it, men with bows and slings can provide cover for those working the rams, suppressing the windows.”

  After Amarra translated the last, Kol’Cara cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

  “The Anagradoom might just prove helpful to you,” Kol’Cara said. �
��We can put our bows to use and keep the windows clear.”

  Amarra translated the Common into Latin.

  “Are your boys good?” Felix asked, with a skeptical look thrown at the elf.

  “They’re crack shots,” Karus said, not waiting for Amarra to translate.

  “All right,” Felix said. “This is how I believe we should approach the assault on the building. We keep most of the men back and out of missile range. The rams go in, working to batter down the doors.” He looked to Kol’Cara. “Your elves clear the windows, while our boys work the rams. Once we’ve forced the doors, we then start creating additional openings in the walls themselves, big enough for a man or two to enter at the same time. While we’re doing that and fixing their attention, as Flaccus suggested, we send men up ladders to try the roof, from their blind spot in the alley. If there is access to the building from the roof, we begin funneling men in that way. When it comes to the ground level, once we have two additional openings into the building … we begin the assault proper. We use the rest of the ladders and try to force the windows, as well as the two doors and any openings in the wall we’ve managed to create. If possible, we hit everything simultaneously. That way, the enemy has multiple points to defend. Eventually, with enough pressure, we will see success somewhere and be able to overwhelm them.”

  “That sounds like as good a plan as any,” Flaccus said, looking to Karus.

  “I like it,” Karus agreed. “We will do as Felix says.” He paused and looked from Flaccus to Felix. “Make sure, as you advance up your respective streets, you clear each and every building along the way. I want no surprises or ambushes, and I certainly don’t want any of the holdouts to escape. Especially their leaders. When it comes to the assault itself, let’s do everything possible to limit our casualties, understand? In the coming days, we’re gonna need every sword. They are bottled up and there’s nowhere for them to go. We do this right.”

  “Yes, sir,” Flaccus and Felix said in unison.