Having no choice, the other horse followed suit. The driver, seeing the danger, pulled hard on the left rein to get the animals to turn back onto the road, he failed. The right wheel of the wagon struck the ditch first, made a cracking noise, and then broke apart. This caused the wagon to topple onto its right side. As the wagon slid into the ditch, both Baltazar and Justin were dumped on the ground. The pair landed hard. The driver was flung forward into the waiting arms of the damned. His screams were quickly silenced, as he was devoured in moments.
Dazed, Baltazar’s head swam as he looked up and saw Satan’s minions charging for him and Justin, “Justin, get up!”
Justin, groaning, responded, “Not now, Constan, the horns have not sounded.”
Cursing, Baltazar tried to stand on his unsteady legs. The closest creature was less than ten feet away. As his head began clearing Baltazar reached for his ax. His hand grasped empty air. It wasn’t there, “Christ have mercy!” With a squishy thwack, an arrow pierced the forehead of the creature. Its momentum continued to carry it forward, and it toppled into Baltazar knocking him over.
Justin, finally realizing where he was, stood, drew his ax, and yelled at the next damned, “C’mere you stinking piece of shite!”
The creature complied with Justin’s request and lunged at him. Justin swung his ax with the intention of hitting it in the head. He missed. The creature slammed into Justin and knocked him over. As Justin struck the ground landing on his back, all the air went out of his lungs. Gasping he tried to hold his attacker off as it tried to bite him. Luckily his armor made the damned’s task difficult. He looked directly into the eyes of the mindless beast as it glared down at him. Its purple and red-flecked eyes chilled Justin to his bones.
Baltazar, pushing the dead creature off of him, saw Justin’s predicament. He drew his dagger and stabbed the creature in the top of the head. Spying Justin’s ax laying on the ground, he grabbed it up and stood over Justin. Two more damned lunged at Baltazar. He ducked, and the first creature flew over his left shoulder. He swung the ax sideways and the ax bit into the second damned’s head cleaving it in two.
Baltazar heard Justin scream. Whirling around he saw Justin’s dagger sticking out of the head of the creature that had just flown past him. As the creature fell to the ground, he saw Justin holding up his left hand. Blood was gushing from four missing fingers.
Justin tore his gaze away from his mauled hand and made eye contact with Baltazar, “Kill me.” he begged.
“Justin, I can’t.”
“I said kill me! That’s an order!” Justin yelled, franticly.
Baltazar looked behind him. Boulous’ cavalry had killed the rest of the nearby damned with their bows. Sighing, he turned to Justin, “God, please forgive me.”
Justin smiled, “He already has.” Justin looked up into the sky, spread his arms, and smiled. Baltazar brought his ax down on Justin’s head. He didn’t feel a thing as an angel took his hand and lifted him up out of his body.
Baltazar seeing the last wagon rolling by on the road yelled, “Slow down, so I can catch up!” Not in any immediate danger, the driver complied. Panting, Baltazar pulled himself on board. As the wagon began its descent into Palestinia Province, Baltazar looked back at Justin’s corpse, “Farewell, my friend.” Overcome by grief, he began to sob.
Athos, surrounded by Persians, fought savagely. He had been cut off from the rest of his unit and stood back to back with Constan. Blocking a blow with his shield, he looked into the eyes of the man as he brought his Spatha down into the base of his neck nearly decapitating him.
Athos heard the faint sounds of horns, “Hang in there Constan, sounds like Emperor Heraclius has called in the reserve.
Constan responded, “Aye but they’re not going to get to us in time. These bastards are going to overwhelm us long before then.” Constan finished by spitting into the face of a Persian leering at him. The Persian responded by shoving his shield into Constan’s. Athos felt the jolt on his back as Constan bumped into him and took an involuntary step forward. This sent an attacking Persian in front of him off balance, and Athos took advantage of his confusion by slamming his shield into him. As the man staggered back, Athos removed his head with his Spatha. The horns sounded again a bit louder this time.
Athos ducked under a spear thrust, jammed his Spatha into the Persian’s gut, and said, “Why are they blowing the horns again. Is there more than one reserve?”
Constan turned to him and yelled, “Athos! Wake up, you’re late for formation!” Athos burst forth from the dream into reality. Constan was standing over him.
“That’s weird, we were just killing Persians, and you still had both of your eyes,” Athos said.
Constan ignored the statement and said, “Athos, you’re late for formation. You’re a Kentarches now. That means you set the example of what a disciplined soldier should do. Instead, I find you in your damn rack in a pool of vomit. Care to explain?”
Athos pondered for a moment and then the events of last night came crashing into his conscious mind, “Athea!”
Constan asked, “Is she dead? Did another one of those damned bite her?”
Athos replied, “No, she dumped me.”
Constan yanked Athos roughly to his feet, “You mean to tell me that you are lying in a pool of your vomit because of that damned girl?”
Athos replied meekly, “Yes.”
Constan turned red and spat out, “Ye should have listened to me when I told ye not to pursue her. Ye are a soldier first! Get yourself cleaned up and out to your men. If they challenge you about your tardiness tell them we were discussing matters above their pay grade.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If I find you like this one more time, I’m busting your worthless ass back to a common Skutatoi. You’ll then have plenty of time to contemplate your stupidity as ye will be wallowing in shite enjoying latrine duty for the next six months. Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Get out of my sight!”
“But you’re in my room, sir.”
Constan glared at him with seething eyes for several moments. Then, without another word, Constan spun on his heels, stormed out of the room, and slammed the door. Athos looked down at himself. He was a pitiful sight. Vomit covered the front of his Kentarches uniform. Nikas’ Kentarches uniform. He stripped out of it and selected another from his wardrobe. He quickly put it on, and hurried out to his men.
As Athos arrived on the parade ground, he was glad to see that Damon had his Kentarchia in formation. Damon gave him a questioning look but didn’t say anything. Athos turned to the men and said, “Good morning men of the Second Kentarchia.”
The men replied back, nearly in unison, “Good morning, sir!”
“The key to surviving a battle is thrice fold. The first is the obvious one that everyone knows, your skill with a weapon. The next which we started yesterday and I personally believe to be the most important, is teamwork. Finally, you need endurance. Each day your training will start with endurance training, then you will work on becoming a team, and lastly, you will work on your weapon skills.”
Athos smiled at the men and said, “We start your training today with ten laps around the parade field. Any man that can beat me will get an extra wine ration tonight. The twenty men that come in last will get no wine ration at all. Understood?”
The men replied in unison, “Yes, sir!”
Athos smiled and said, “Good.”
Without another word, Athos turned around and took off running. The men looked at each other sheepishly for a moment and then followed in pursuit. The running helped Athos to clear his mind. As he ran the events of the previous evening cycled through his head. Finally, he grew enough courage to address the Nikas personality, “You cost me the woman I love last night.”
The Nikas personality responded in his thoughts, “She isn’t what you need right now. You need to be strong for these men. You cannot afford your thoughts to be clouded
with worries about Athea. I tested her last night, and she refused to choose the path that would have aided in making you stronger.”
Athos replied, “Yes but there has to be a way I can have both.”
The Nikas personality laughed inside his head, “You are not ready yet to have both. A year ago, you were nothing but a heartbroken child. A month ago, you were still trying to master the very skills you started teaching these men yesterday. A week ago, you finally perfected those skills and barely survived your first battle. One thing at a time.”
Athos sighed and said, “After the awful way you treated her last night, I’ll probably never be able to win her back.”
An image of Nikas smiling popped into Athos’ thoughts, “Now you’re starting to see. Embrace me, and I will make you the best leader you can be. You owe it to these men.”
Athos sighed and nodded, “Even if I lose myself in the process it would be worth it for the men.” He paused a moment and thought, “And for Athea. If I can train these men to stop the damned, she will be safe.”
Athos opened himself up, and the Nikas personality rushed in. It overwhelmed him, and the spark that was Athos faded into the background. As the laps went by Athos’ lead grew on his men. On the second to the last lap, he caught up with the two potbellied men he punished yesterday. They were a full lap behind him.
Athos slowed to their running speed and asked them, “What're your names?”
The taller of the two replied, “I’m Hagan, and my friend is Wayra.” In between each of the words he gasped for air. Sweat poured from both of them.
Athos smiled, “Well met. I don’t understand why you two are bringing up the rear. After all, you got a head start on endurance training yesterday!” He used a light jesting tone, “Looks like you aren’t going to be getting a wine ration today.” He smacked Hagan on the belly for emphasis, “You could probably use a few days without wine.” He pointed to the younger men ahead of them, “Take heart, if you continue giving it your all just like you are doing right now it won’t be long before the taste of wine touches your lips again.”
Athos resumed his pace pulling ahead of Hagan and Wayra. He reached the finish line first. The next to touch the finish line was Damon. The two stood together and clapped encouragement to each man as he neared the finish line. After Hagan and Wayra had crossed the line last, he gave the men several minutes to recover from the run and then yelled, “Form up!”
The men quickly complied with Athos’ order. As they stood at attention, he walked up and down the lines inspecting each man’s stance. Despite their obvious fatigue, the men’s positioning was correct.
Satisfied he walked to the front of the formation and said, “Men, look to your left. Good, now look to your right. These men are your brothers. As an individual, no matter how smart, strong, or skilled with a weapon, you are weak. Being weak in battle means that you will fall. Working together as brothers you become strong. It is strong men that win battles and survive. Although it seems silly and redundant, teaching you how to march in unison is the first step on the journey to making you strong. At the end of that journey, you will be a soldier of Rome.”
Athos led them through several hours of marching drills. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the air became an oppressive inferno. Athos paid no mind to the blistering heat and continued the training. Sweat glistened off the exposed skin of every man as the Sun continued its relentless assault on parched earth and men alike.
Athos, with Damon’s help, began teaching them how to shift from a column of six marching formation into a battle line. The men did poorly at first but after several tries managed to form a rough battle line. Satisfied that they were learning Athos left the 2nd Kentarchia in Damon’s capable hands to continue the training.
Still stinging from the dress down he received that morning Athos tried to put that thought out of his mind as he approached Constan’s villa. With the men now marching well enough it was time to introduce them to the next phase of their training, weapons. That meant talking to Constan to obtain them.
Athos knocked on the door to Constan’s villa. Despite waiting several minutes, no one answered. Athos, too impatient to wait for a response, pushed on the door. The hinges creaked as the door opened slowly. He walked into the empty foyer and proceeded through it into the courtyard. Standing in the courtyard was Constan, a gentlemen that Athos did not recognize, and the manager of the Armory.
Constan, apparently upset, spoke to the strange man, “four hundred and Fifty? That’s not nearly enough to defend this city. We need more men.”
The man replied, “We can scour the city to see if any man ignored the Governor’s summons but I doubt we would find more than an additional fifty men. The destruction of the 5th Parthica badly depleted our population of fighting age men.”
Constan’s growing frustration was etched on his face, “What about the other towns and villages. Can we get more men from them?”
Athos realized the strange man must be a subordinate to the Governor.
“Possibly, the Governor’s summons went out to them as well, but I seriously doubt they would be willing to give up their fighting age males. Most of the outlying communities lack walls.”
Constan said with a hint of disgust in his voice, “Great, so they will not provide men to swell our ranks. At the same time, they lack the means to defend themselves so that they will swell the ranks of the damned!”
The Governor’s representative paused for a few moments pondering, “Hmmm I see what you mean. That would be most unfortunate indeed. Perhaps I can convince the Governor to order them inside the walls of Damascus. That would get them out of harm’s way, while at the same time providing them an incentive to give men towards Damascus’ defense.”
Constan replied, “Yes, see if ye can do that and make sure the four hundred and fifty men report here tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, Tourmarches.”
Constan noticed Athos standing in the courtyard, “What is it Kentarches?”
Athos came to complete attention, saluted, and replied, “My men are ready for Spathas and axes. Ninety of each. I would like to begin weapons training today. They have made excellent progress on learning how to march and how to transition from a column of sixes into battle line formation.”
Constan smiled, “Finally some good news.” He turned to the armory manager and asked, “Saif, how many Spathas and axes have ye produced so far?”
“Both production lines have been started and are running at maximum efficiency. I should be able to deliver your first 100 Spathas and axes in six more days.”
“That’s not what I asked. How many have ye produced so far?”
Saif answered, “Perhaps fifteen of each by sunset tonight.”
Constan grimaced, “I have four hundred and fifty more men that will start training tomorrow. I do not have any weapons or armor to equip them. In a week’s time, they will be ready to begin weapons training. By then you’ll have produced enough weapons for one in four of them. That is not good enough. I need you to do better.”
“We just started the lines today, and my men are doing the best they can.”
“I need your folks to do better than that. I have no idea how long we have until the damned are knocking on our gate, wanting to turn us all into meals. Explain that to ye men. Perhaps it will motivate them.”
“I have the facilities and the resources to increase production, but I lack the men.”
Constan pondered this for several moments, “Working in the armory is physically challenging, is it not?
Saif nodded, “Yes, my men become very strong. It is backbreaking work under difficult conditions, especially in this heat. I’m already working all of my people on two twelve-hour shifts.”
“How much training would it require to help with the more menial tasks?”
“Virtually none at all. We just require men with strong backs.”
“Could ye send half of your first shift men to the second shift and use 225
of my trainees to backfill those positions? I can use my four hundred and fifty new recruits in two six-hour shifts and train them to be soldiers for an additional six hours a day.”
Saif pondered this for many moments and replied, “Yes I think we could make that work and that should increase production for both shifts. Your men will slow us down at first, but it doesn’t take a lot of experience to keep the forges burning at the right temperature. It just takes a lot of muscle and endurance.”
Constan replied, “Perfect, I’ll send ye 225 tomorrow morning and switch them out with another 225 men tomorrow afternoon.
Constan turned to Athos, “Draw the weapons ye need from the Fort’s armory at once, Kentarches.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good job. You are the first Kentarches to declare his men ready for weapons training. Keep making progress like this, and I’ll forget about this morning’s fuck up. Dismissed.”
Athos snapped back to attention and saluted. He then executed a perfect about face and left the courtyard.
Athos walked back to the parade ground. Once in sight of the 2nd Kentarchia he paused and watched for a few minutes. Damon is doing a great job, he thought.
Damon noticed Athos approached and yelled, “2nd Kentarchia, halt!”
Athos smiled at Damon and said, “Thanks, Dekanos.”
Athos took over and marched them over to the armory where each man was issued a Spatha and an ax. From there, they were marched to the weapons training area. The weapons training area had one hundred posts set into the ground. The ground was covered in sand. The posts showed signs of past impacts from both Spathas and axes. Further back in the area were several racks holding wooden versions of the Spatha, ax, and spear.
Athos walked to the front of the formation and began speaking, “Men, today is a special day in your journey toward becoming an Ironman. Today for the first time you will wield the weapons that will strike at our enemies and save your brothers. I’ve been keeping an eye on you, and I have several of you picked out for promotion to Dekanos.
Byzantium Infected Box Set Page 35
