Wearily the men on the ground began to stir. Constan quickly said, “As you were, get some rest.”
The men sighed in relief and several snores almost instantly resumed as Constan made his way through them and onto the earthen wall ahead. Constan looked down into the ditch directly in front of him and whistled in appreciation. It was close to five feet in depth. He then looked to his left and finally to his right. His eyes took in the same sight in either direction. Every ten feet a torch, set on a pole was driven into the earthen wall. They flickered and pushed back the darkness about a dozen feet with the light they cast, “They managed to dig a hole five feet deep across the length of the line in six bloody hours? Brilliant!” Constan slapped Hovig on the back in excitement.
“What about the turn to the east I ordered at the north and south edge of the line?” Constan asked.
A voice out of the darkness replied to the question, “Unfortunately sir, we just completed the main line. The flanks have not been started yet.” Kentarches Zinvor said.
“No worries Kentarches, ye did well to finish the main line in the time ye had.” Constan said.
“Thank you, sir.” Zinvor replied.
The two men stood on the wall looking westward down the Joppa road for several minutes. As they waited and watched in silence, the thousand men that had been asleep, completed donning their armor and took their places on the wall. They stood in silence for a time, until the cooks began to arrive and pass out food.
The cooks started with hard tac that had been carried on the march. After about thirty minutes a warm porridge, consisting of water taken from a nearby stream, and mashed hard tac warmed over an open fire, began to be passed down the line. Forty minutes after Tovig first rode up the men had finished their meal and stood in silence.
During this time, perception seemed to slow to a crawl as the men became prisoners of their own thoughts. Despite these tortured feelings of impending death, they stood in silence trying to remain quiet for their sleeping comrades a few feet away. Many held their arms to their sides and grasped their legs to prevent nervous hands from shaking. Several of the Dekanoses and Kentarches, trying to distract themselves from their own thoughts, slowly walked up and down their small sections of the line. As they did so, they placed hands on the shoulders of their men and squeezed them in reassurance.
This simple gesture evoked in the men a feeling that you are not alone. This is not hopeless, and together we can survive. As the fifty-minute mark approached, Constan’s ears began to pick up faint wisps of noise. Sounds bouncing around the hills and the curving road would play tricks on the ears. At first it started as a disjointed dull thrum that would fade away from time to time and return. Each time that the sound returned, it was a little bit stronger.
At fifty-five minutes since Tovig rode into the camp to warn them of the incoming threat, an overpowering wave of putrid stench washed over them. The smell was so overwhelming that despite their recent exposure to the damned, several of the men had to stifle gags.
Constan turned to Droungarios Hovig and said, “Get the sleeping men up and have them start getting their armor on. Also have everyone cover their torches except the center three hundred feet. I don’t want the unholy bitch to know how far our lines actually stretch.”
Hovig stiffened to attention saluted and said, “At once, sir.”
Constan turned and looked back out down the road to the west as Hovig started barking orders. Behind him he could hear men begin to rouse amidst coughs and flatulence. The sound made his thoughts drift to Damon and a tear ran down his cheek, I never thought I would miss ye arse old friend.
A few moments later the light of the torches off to his left shifted as the men dropped them to the ground behind the earthen wall, to conceal the light from the enemy. Constan turned to his right and watched this phenomenon for several moments and then turned back to face the road. He was startled by the appearance of a lone figure on the edge of the torch light. He couldn’t make out the damned’s features, but it was immense in stature.
Constan was surprised that the figure just stood there in silence without calling out and charging the line. Most damned couldn’t suppress their impulse to run toward the smell of living flesh. Another bloody smart one. Constan thought to himself. Despite knowing that it was coming, he was still surprised when the damned began speaking, “Greetings, Romans. Whom do I have the privilege of addressing?”
The deep baritone voice sounded vaguely familiar to Constan’s ears, but he couldn’t quite place it, “Tourmarches Constan of the 5th Babylon.”
They stood in silence for several moments before the voice responded, “It saddens me that my sister has caught you Tourmarches. I was hoping you would keep running once you escaped Damascus and never look back.”
With the mention of Damascus and the escape, Constan’s mind finally put two and two together and a name flashed into mind, “Legion, what happened to you? Why dost thee speak for the damned? From what Maarika and Baltazar told me, ye hate them with every fiber of ye being.”
“True, I hated them for what they did to my family. I saw them consume my parents. Their screams of being eaten while they still drew breath torture my thoughts. Despite being a powerful warrior, I was forced to look on helpless to defend them.” Legion’s voice trailed off for a moment and Constan heard a sob. The big man choked off the sob, cleared his throat and continued, “I watched them attack my sister next. I thought she had died in the attack as well, but I was mistaken.”
“Ye sister lives?” Constan asked with a hint of confusion in his voice.
“Aye, my sister lives. She leads the vast host arrayed behind me.” Legion replied.
“Your sister is Fonda?” Constan asked.
“Yes, and she brings a message. Lay down your arms and join her host, and she will make your deaths as painless and quick as possible. You will then know immortality. You will not have any more pain, and you will not grow old. Perhaps in time, like many of her children, you will begin to reconnect with your intelligence.”
Constan whistled at the revelation and thought to himself. More of these beasties will be like Fonda? Saints preserve us! After several moments of not hearing a reply from Constan, Legion asked, “What is your answer to my sister’s generous offer?”
Constan squared his shoulders and placed his hand on the pommel of his Spatha, resting in it’s sheathe. His nostrils flared and his breath quickened and the sound of his heartbeat became a deafening crescendo banging in his head. As his eyes narrowed, he said, “You tell that putrid, rotting, unholy bitch you call a sister, that she will have to kill every one of us. We will fight until the last one of us draws breath. With luck, we’ll send her, and all of her children straight to hell where they belong!”
Legion stepped fully into the torchlight so that Constan could see his face. He was smiling, “Though we didn’t have much of an opportunity to know each other. I spent a considerable amount of time with Baltazar. I can see where he came by his boundless determination to fight on in the face of truly hopeless odds. I respect your response. At the behest of my sister I had to ask her question. You gave the answer I was expecting.” Adding under his breath he said, “And hoped for.”
Before Legion could continue Constan interrupted with a, “Ye bet ye arse.”
Legion held up his hand and Constan fell silent before he could continue, “As long as men such as yourself have the courage to stand against the darkness, there is hope. I wish I could fight beside you here today and die. Alas I must stand with my sister.”
“You don’t have to. Stand with the living. We could use another such as yourself.” Constan replied.
Legion smiled, “I must admit, the thought of standing with you against the horde quickens my blood. It would give me joy to draw my blade and fight side by side with my brothers in the ranks against the darkness once more.”
“Go with that urge. A living man doesn’t belong with the dead.” Constan replied.
Le
gion’s smile faded as he sighed deeply, “Before I swore an oath of allegiance to the Empire, I made a promise to my sister to defend her no matter the circumstance.” Legion replied.
Constan shook his head as he frowned in sadness, “Stand with us. Your promise ended when Fonda stopped drawing breath.”
“Regrettably it did not. I promised to defend her to the grave. Though she no longer draws breath, she clearly isn’t in the grave.” Legion replied.
A feminine voice called out from the darkness, “Leonidas, you’ve had your fun. Don’t listen to that man. Come back to me.”
At the sound of the voice Legion’s shoulders slumped and his head hung low. As he started to turn and walk in the direction of the voice Constan stretched out his right hand toward Legion and said, “Ignore the voice, Leonidas. Come, take my hand, and stand with your brothers.”
Constan’s plea fell on deaf ears as Legion disappeared into the shadows. From the darkness the female voice said, “You should have taken my offer, Constan. Now I will ensure that your death will be as slow and painful as possible.”
“Stow it ye unholy thrice cursed bitch. We will stand against ye and your minions and triumph.” Constan shot back.
Fonda laughed, “No Constan, you couldn’t possibly stand against my numbers. Though there are more of you here than at Damascus you don’t have your walls to hide behind. Nor I imagine did you have time to prepare your tricks.”
“We don’t need tricks to defeat you. We are soldiers of the Empire standing shoulder to shoulder. Our shields and deadly blades create a wall of carnage that ye putrid rotting bastards will not be able to stand against. A wall of God’s chosen ones that will hold back your wave of darkness. Come, so that our blades will feed on what’s left of ye decomposed brains. I promise ye this Fonda, before this night is over, I will see ye permanently resting in ye grave.” Constan shot back.
As Constan fell silent the sounds of Fonda’s laughter pierced the night, “Silly man. Since we are making promises to each other on this night, know that I will ensure your survival. I want you to live, so that you can witness the destruction of another of your armies at my hands. Then I will personally see to the consumption of your flesh. I will devour you an inch a day. You will know nothing but pain and agony in your final months as you slowly disappear down my throat and feed my hunger. I will keep you alive as long as it takes to break your mind and spirit. Then I will just enjoy slowly feasting on the last of you. You will die broken and defeated.”
Constan began to quiver and his face flushed a deep shade of crimson. He drew his blade and leaped on top of the earthen wall. As he slowly lowered his Spatha toward the sound of Fonda’s voice, he said, “Put ye coin where ye mouth is whore of Satan. We’re done talking.”
Fonda replied. “As you wish.”
Without warning, dozens of damned appeared on the edge of the torchlight. They were running toward Constan. They consisted of a wide variety of shapes and sizes. Damned elderly that hobbled toward him their bodies ravaged by time. The middle aged portly and graying. Adults in the prime of their life with well-toned muscles. Teens whose freshness and zest for life still somehow shown through their damned state, and the youngest of children ran toward Constan. Their modesty was covered by blood soaked tattered rags whose composition gave a hint of their former lives. The damned’s lifeless milky white eyes looked at the line of soldiers in front of them standing atop the earthen wall. Eyes that hungered for their living flesh.
“Sir, get down from the wall and get behind the men.” Hovig said.
Constan roared in defiance at the oncoming horde, “Come and get me ye bastards!”
The first line of damned reached the ditch and attempted to leap over the span. Most failed, tumbling into the bottom of the pit. A single damned made it over. This damned, with an athletic build, leaped over the ditch and landed just below Constan. He looked up at him and barred his teeth before reaching up with his hands to hoist himself up the side of the wall.
Constan, holding his Spatha with two hands, roared again, and brought the blade down onto the man’s head. The blade struck with such force that his skull split apart. Bone and brain matter splattered Constan as he raised his sword and screamed in defiance, “Ye will never take me alive. Do ye hear me, bitch? Never!”
As the first rank of the damned attempted to stand in the bottom of the ditch, the next wave landed on top of them. This drove the first ones back to the ground. As the ditch in front of the earthen wall filled with the damned. Hovig, with the assistance of a Kentarches, pulled Constan from the top of the wall, “Sir, you mustn’t endanger yourself like that. We need you to lead.”
The two men gripped Constan’s arms. Constan looked Hovig in the eye and said, “I hear ye Droungarios. Ye can release me.”
The two men let go of Constan’s arms. Constan, pulled out a cloth and wiped his blade free of the gore. Finished, he slowly sheathed the blade. The third rank of the damned scrambled over their brethren from the second rank pushing them to their knees. Many, are able to clamber across the heads and shoulders of their predecessors and cross the ditch. A moment later they reached the wall. As the dead and the living meet, the sounds of snarls, growls and clicking teeth, from the damned, coupled with the war screams of the 5th Babylon washed over the scene in a deafening crescendo.
In the first few moments of fighting, hundreds of damned died as sword and ax found the tops of heads. The next wave of damned quickly suffered the fate of the first, as their lifeless bodies slid down the side of the earthen wall. They were instantly replaced by the third wave of damned. This wave, though they died quickly like the first two, managed to use the bodies of their fallen to gain just enough purchase to wrap fingers around the ankles of a handful of defenders.
Pulling with all of their strength even as they joined their brethren in permanent slumber, they managed to pull a few unfortunates off the wall. The men died screaming in agony as their flesh was torn from their bodies by sharp teeth and what remained of them slid down the throats of the damned. For a few moments these damned paused as the burning fire of their hunger winked out for the barest fraction of a second. A moment later it returned, worse now that they had felt a moment freedom from their eternal hunger. A moment without the burning need to consume flesh felt like the greatest of ecstasy.
“Where’s my horse?” Constan demanded.
Jivan appeared from out of the shadows leading Viribus, “Here, sir.”
Constan nodded at Jivan in appreciation, “Very good. Thank you.”
As Jivan handed Viribus’ reins to Constan he replied, “You’re welcome, sir.”
Constan heaved himself up into the saddle. As he did so, Viribus front hooves nervously tapped the ground. The smell of so many dead filling the animal’s nostrils made him nervous. Constan, leaned forward in the saddle and stroked the side of the horse’s head, “Easy boy, ye are safe.”
Constan straightened in the saddle and looked out in front of him. The damned were fully engaged with the line of men that covered the road. As wave after wave crashed into the thin line of defenders, they began to spread out along the ridgeline that surrounded the road. The sight of so many of the dead nearby sent an unconscious shiver up his spine, God, if ye can here me, we need ye help. Give your servants of the 5th Babylon the strength to stand against the minions of Satan. Help their blades strike true and their shields hold firm against the unholy darkness. As the men’s mortal strength begins to flag, send ye angels to imbue their tired arms with the endurance they will need to hold. I know not whether the cross that we have been sent to retrieve was the True Cross that held your son as he made the most noble of sacrifices for the sins of the world. Regardless, the people of the Empire need that symbol to give them heart that ye have not forsaken them. Help us. . .
Chapter 61
Mid-Morning, October 19th 636, Jerusalem, Palestinia Province, Byzantium
Death From Above
The group made their way up the narro
w alleyway in single file without incident. As they neared the first intersection Athos paused and turned to Gor, “What’s this street up ahead?”
“It’s a major road that crosses the main boulevard that leads to the Temple Mount. To the south is the bakers district and to the north is where the trades folk reside.”
Athos pursed his lips and thought for a moment, “I don’t like the idea of getting back on that road until we have to. We were lucky to escape a horde once. I don’t want to chance it a second time. At least not until it is necessary. Past the intersection does the alleyway continue?”
Gor nodded as he said, “I believe so.”
“Good, then we shall continue down this alley as long as we can.” Athos replied.
As they slowly made their way east up the narrow and winding alleyway, the sounds of the damned banging on the doors and shutters of the townhouse they had used to escape the horde faded. The group continued on their trek eastward into the center of the city. With Athos and Baltazar in the lead, they crossed two more intersections without incident.
Encounters of any sort in the alleyway were rare. The first being a cat that took exception to their presence. Daisy quickly convinced the cat that it was better to be elsewhere. The next, a group of rats who reared up on their hind legs to defend their nest. Athos, ended the life of the nearest beast with his Spatha, and the rest quickly scattered as Daisy charged forward with bared teeth.
When they reached the third intersection that bisected another broad street, the alleyway didn’t continue on the other side. Athos turned to Gor and said, “Where from here?”
Gor pondered the question for several moments and then said, “We are getting close to the center of the city. On the main boulevard the town houses become large villas and the alleyway disappears. From here, there are a couple of different ways to reach the Temple Mount. We can go north up the road here in front of us and then turn east back onto the main boulevard that runs straight from the Joppa gate to the Temple Mount, or we can go south. If I remember correctly there is another alleyway about two hundred feet south of here that will enable us to continue heading east.”
Byzantium Infected Box Set Page 93
