Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 1

by J. Clifton Slater

  “They left the flat land in the Fall after their harvest and lands had been taken,” Eolus explained. “Before leaving, they stole back their own ponies. With twelve wagons of possessions and twelve families including babes in arms, the families rushed for the foothills. The King’s men were furious at the missing ponies and gave chase.”

  “They caught up with the families just as the hills transcended to the steep slopes of the mountains. Two wagons were trampled and the families slaughtered. It was late in the evening and the Captain of the King’s horsemen was pleased with the day’s butchery. He ordered his men to make camp and make merry on the spoils from the dead families. Drunken, loud and bragging the King’s men celebrated late into the evening before laying down to rest.”

  “In the still of early morning, twenty men from the ten remaining families slipped into the horsemen’s camp. They silently slit the throats of all but one of the horsemen. The Captain’s life was spared. However, the tendons and muscles around his knees were sliced with his own knife. His wounds were bandaged and he was tied to a horse. It was the last time he would ride as the injuries made him a cripple. The families placed a note of independence on his chest and the horse was set free to find its way home.”

  “That’s the first of the Dulce Pugno?” ventured Corporal Manfredus.

  “Not as we know them today,” Eolus said. “The Captain’s pearl handled knife was presented to the youngest of the family’s raiders. After stopping their tormentors, the families climbed higher into the mountains. Weeks later, they were lost in the snow of the high peaks. Many had died, yet the survivors pushed on. There was no guide, no path, just an unbroken trail of snow. The lead wagon climbed a steep rise and many of the members complained while pointing to a flatter stretch. By then, the lead wagon had reached the top of the rise and its herder yelled back that the way was flat. Because they had come so far together, the other families made the steep climb.”

  “Desperation set in after a week of struggling across the plateau. The mountains were closing in on both sides and the trees thinned. Little game could be found and hunger was piled on top of their many woes. Yet they pushed on.”

  “The land seemed to rise and they feared another mountain peak to circle. But, it proved worse. The mountains closed in and they were stopped by a wall of snow. Many fell to the cold, white ground in exhaustion and despair. Only the hardiest of the families rose again.”

  “It was decided to send a group of their youngest and strongest over the snowy barricade. In the morning, as small fires, barely alive enough to fend off the cold, glowed five young men and three women climbed from the camp. The last the families saw were the eight vanishing over the edge. Those left behind huddled and waited for death to claim them.”

  “A day later, fifteen fish fell from the sky. Many called to the gods in thanks for the gifts of food. But it wasn’t the gods unless you were a believer. It was the young people. One made the climb down the snow wall and told the tale of a wondrous mountain valley.”

  “They rigged lines of cloth and one by one, the families deserted their wagons and scaled the wall. Some fell, being too weak to go on but most scrambled or were pulled up the face of the snow cliff. On the other side of the blockade of snow, the sun shone across a broad valley. A light blanket of snow lay from end to end. A wide creek flowed down the center, trees grew in abundance giving promise of good soil, and game tracks were obvious even from the heights of the pass.”

  “Trees were downed and shelters constructed. Between the wild game and abundant fish, starvation was averted. During the long first Winter, all of the men who had participated in the raid told their stories and explained the lessons they learned while defending the families. The young people listened and were in awe of the Captain’s pearl handled knife when it was displayed.”

  “In the Spring, as the snow melted and plants blossomed, swarms of bees awakened from hibernation. Their hives were discovered and the families collected the honey. Soon they had so much, they stopped collecting it. And they began to move queen bees to domestic hives so the families could attend to the hives. The families began to call their new home the Golden Valley.”

  “The next Spring, a group was sent forth with rough clay jars of honey. Not knowing any other direction, they headed down to the East and the King’s land. In the first two villages, they exchanged honey for seeds. Rapidly, they returned to the Golden Valley. Fields were planted and crops grown. Another winter passed and, in the Spring, another trading party was organized. They were at the second village when a patrol of King’s men caught them. Along with their jars of honey, the four men were taken to see the King.”

  “Now the Queen and King had two daughters and a taste for the finer things in life. But this was centuries ago and securing finer things was difficult. It was before the days of trading between regions so the King and Queen developed the habit of taking the best from their kingdom. The fattest livestock for their herds and coops, the hardiest of grains for their bread and the most handsome young men for their personal guard. All that was superior, the royal family took for their own. When the Queen tasted the captured honey, she demanded her husband claim all the honey from the Golden Valley.”

  “One of the men was released to deliver the King’s proclamation. It was a long march through the mountains and back. In the meantime, the King grew tired of feeding and housing the three captives. As they were related to the men who had crippled his Captain, a cousin of the royal family, the King deemed them outlaws and hanged the three.”

  “Later in the year, four wagons of honey rolled into the royal stockade. When asked about the three captives, the men and women escorting the honey were hanged. All except one man. He was sent back to the mountains with the King’s demand for more of the exquisite honey.”

  “That winter, the original family raiders gathered. Again, they spoke of their experiences and the lessons they learned defending the families against the horsemen. While they analyzed their tactics and taught the best to their young men, a blacksmith smelted iron and added carbon to the mix. He hammered and folded the hot metal, and hammered and folded some more, until the blades were steel. Using the Captain’s curved blade as a guide, he duplicated it many times over. Families dug through their possessions and produced pearls which were embedded in the handles. These were the first Night Bees.”

  “Before spring, while frost still lay upon the fields, ten men snaked down the mountain. They traveled by night and lay hidden during the day. At the royal stockade, they didn’t go to the gate and announce themselves. Rather, they scaled the wall at night.”

  “The King and Queen were supping with their daughters. Fat foul lay upon the table and delicate wine filled their goblets. Servants hovered at their elbows, salivating and hungry, yet ready to fulfill any of the royal wishes. As the King burped, ten men entered the royal hall. While the servants backed away, ten men with scarves wrapped around their faces and wielding exactly the same curved blade, slit the royal throats. Honey was drizzled over the royal bodies. After finishing dispatching the royal family, the assassins melted into the night.”

  “Over the Centuries, rich people have hired the Dulce Pugno to solve problems,” Eolus said. “In cases where the assassins were killed, the Nocte Apibus were returned to the Golden Valley. A few men thought to keep a Nocte Apis as a trophy. All the trophy collectors were killed. You ask why their threat is different from a bounty offered by a gang of thugs?”

  Decanus Eolus paused and held out his palm for the curved dagger. Alerio lay the weapon in the outstretched hand.

  “Because to have this,” Eolus turned the weapon over so light reflected off the blade. He then exhibited the Nocte Apis to everyone in the room before saying. “To possess this, is to be next in line for centuries of honor killings by the Dulce Pugno.”

  Everyone watched as Eolus gently presented the knife to Alerio as if it were a snake likely to come to life and strike.

  “Hold on,” Opti
o Horus ordered as he reached for the scroll. He snatched it from his desk and unrolled the parchment. “The message says Nocte Apibus. There’s more than one missing?” he asked.

  Alerio coughed to clear his throat and said, “There are three more. The Centurion and Sergeant at the Harbor Post and a Lance Corporal of the Guard all have one.”

  Horus sat down heavily in his field chair. “Where is Centurion Stylianus?” he asked. “I’d like an officer in on this.”

  “He’s still in the trading town,” Corporal Manfredus said. “Working his contacts for information about the rebels.”

  “Decanus Eolus. Thank you for the information. You are dismissed. There’s nothing the rest of us can do tonight,” Horus stated. “Sisera. You’re bunking in here. Lance Corporal Velius, I want guards around this tent until morning. Have the first shift bring his gear. We’ll sort this out tomorrow.”

  ***

  In the early morning, while the moon was still visible in the western sky, the guards outside the tent issued a challenge. Moments later, a Scout was ushered into the command tent. He was met by four drawn gladii.

  “Stand down,” ordered Optio Horus. He recognized the Scout. While shoving his sword into its sheath, he demanded, “Report.”

  Manfredus, Alerio and the Duty Signalman also put away their blades.

  “Centurion Stylianus has been taken,” the Scout announced. “We were gathering information. Something has the revolutionaries stirred up so we split up to cover more ground. When Centurion Stylianus didn’t show at the appointed time, I waited ‘til sundown. When he still didn’t report in, I started asking around.”

  “What do you mean, taken?” Horus asked softly. The veins in his neck were bulging and his eye was twitching yet he remained otherwise calm.

  “At the stables, I learned five rebel sympathizers had rented ponies. They had Centurion Stylianus with them,” the Scout reported. “The stableman said they headed out on the road towards Crotone. I figured you’d want to know. At this point, they have half the night’s head start.”

  “Guard,” Horus called out. When a sentry stuck his head in the tent, Horus ordered, “I want a man on the dock. As soon as Decanus Remigius returns bring him directly to me. Go!”

  “Do you think the Dulce Pugno have something to do with them taking our officer?” asked Corporal Manfredus.

  “I don’t see a connection,” admitted the Optio.

  “There might be,” Alerio ventured. “When I killed the assassins, they were supporting a renegade attack on our supplies. If the rebel’s hired the Dulce Pugno for the killing, it would explain the connection.”

  “And the mission failed,” surmised Corporal Manfredus. “Now the Sweet Fist want their Night Bees and some payback. They’re leaning on the leader of the rebels for a solution.”

  “And you think Centurion Stylianus was taken as a bargaining chip?” asked Horus.

  “Unless there’s another explanation,” Manfredus replied.

  The Sergeant sent the Signalman to fetch Lance Corporal Ceyx Eolus and his gear. Later, Eolus shouldered his way into the tent and set his armor down in a corner.

  “You seem to know more about this Night Bee stuff than anybody else,” Horus explained to the Light Infantryman. “I may require your advice.”

  “Whatever you need Sergeant,” Eolus assured the NCO as he sat on the ground beside Alerio.

  Optio Horus paced until dawn. His rapid strolling bothered Manfredus so much the Corporal left the command tent to check on the Raider Camp. While Ceyx Eolus and Alerio Sisera were restricted to the tent, dawn gave the Signalman an excuse to leave. He stepped outside and began his vigil of the team on the peak with the sighting roll.

  Act 5

  Chapter 48 - A Troubling Report

  The Sun was well over the horizon when Decanus Remigius walked into the command tent. His eyes were red rimmed from lack of sleep and he stunk of fish.

  “Optio. You wanted to see me?” he asked with a salute that seemed out of place with his rough fisherman’s clothing.

  “Centurion Stylianus has been kidnapped,” Horus stated. “Any idea where he was taken?”

  “No idea, Optio,” the Lance Corporal replied. “But Speckled Pheasant has gone to ground. He’s holding up in a warehouse and has the place surrounded by thugs.”

  “It’s as good an idea as any for where they’ve taken our Centurion,” Horus said. “What about the disagreement between the rebel Captain and his Lieutenants? Anything come of that?”

  “Everyone’s pretty tight lipped about the issue,” Remigius admitted. “But it concerns something they lost. They’ve been asking a lot of obscure questions but none that’ll give us a clue to what they’re looking for.”

  “I hate to do this to you and your crew,” the Sergeant said as he grabbed his armor. “But Private Sisera, Decanus Eolus, and I need to get to the Harbor Transfer Post.”

  “As a great sailor once said,” Remigius exclaimed. “Not high winds, or heavy swells, nor lack of sleep, shall keep the weary Mariner on shore when duty calls.”

  “What great sailor said that?” Horus asked.

  “Me,” Remigius replied with a smile.

  “Who said you were a great sailor?” the Sergeant challenged.

  “You Optio. Because I’ll be navigating with one eye closed,” the Lance Corporal answered as he yawned, “If I’m not great, you’ll be steering the fishing boat yourself.”

  “Decanus Remigius,” pronounced the Sergeant. “Have I told you lately, you are a great sailor.”

  “Why, I’m blushing,” Remigius replied. “Thank you, Optio Horus. Shall we go?”

  Chapter 49 - The Harbor Transfer Post

  Remigius masterfully tacked the fishing boat into the wind until noon. Around midday, the wind shifted and the craft went from a time killing zigzag and began running with the wind. Even so, the vessel wasn’t a sloop or a yacht, it was a wide beamed working vessel. It took the day to reach their destination.

  The sun had long ago set when the lights of the Harbor of Crotone appeared.

  “As close to the Legion Post as you can get us,” Horus reminded the pilot.

  “I’ll run her up beside the old pier the training instructors use,” replied Remigius.

  It seemed as if the lights from the harbor town barely moved as they sailed by the lighted buildings and the ends of the big docks. Eventually, Remigius shoved the rudder over hard and the fishing boat leaned until water splashed over the gunwale. A short while later, the boat shimmied as it ground on the sandy bottom. Then, it jerked to a stop.

  Horus, Alerio, and Eolus jumped to the pier and raced towards the Legion Transfer Post.

  Remigius collapsed on the rear oar while Lance Corporal Wido and Private Ireneus dove into the water. Once they had rocked the boat enough to refloat it. They secured the boat and ran off to join their Sergeant at the Post. Remigius stayed on board to catch up on his sleep.

  Chapter 50 - Centurion Quarters at the Transfer Post

  A Doctor and a Medic were bent over the Post’s Centurion. While they sewed, he swore and thundered. Horus, Alerio, and Eolus heard the officer as a bandaged Corporal Thornernus escorted them towards the tent.

  “They rushed the guards on the perimeter,” Thornernus explained as he ushered them towards the Centurion’s quarters. “At first I thought it an all-out attack. But they made straight away for the NCOs’ and officer’s tents.”

  “How’s the leg?” Horus inquired pointing to the field dressing around the Corporal’s thigh.

  “Five of them, it wasn’t a fair fight,” the burley NCO replied with a smile. “Poor lads, next time they’ll know not to mess with a Legion Tesserarius.” He pivoted and shoved aside the tent flap. Speaking towards the officer’s bed, Thornernus announced. “Sir, Optio Horus may have information about the attack.”

  An arm appeared between the Doctor and the Medic. The Medic was shoved aside and the Centurion’s raised his head.

  “Horus. Talk
to me,” demanded the wounded Centurion.

  “Alerio. Hand me the Nocte Apis,” the Sergeant ordered. Once he held the curved knife, he showed it to the Centurion and explained. “They were looking for this.”

  The Centurion shook his head to focus as the Doctor pulled a stitch tighter. After inhaling a ragged breath, the officer replied, “I have one as well. It’s in my trunk. Are you telling me the attackers were looking for a perfututum knife?”

  “It’s a symbol of an assassin’s sect called the Dulce Pugno,” Horus related. “They are very possessive about their knives. In your own word’s sir, anyone holding a Nocte Apis is perfututum.”

  “Well the attackers weren’t trained assassins,” the Centurion observed. “They were barely efficient at all. Well, except for the one who sliced my chest open. If Corporal Thornernus hadn’t interceded, they’d have done real damage.”

  “You handled yourself well, sir,” Corporal Thornernus added. Everyone understood a little sucking up wouldn’t hurt when the next promotion board convened.

  “Those weren’t the Dulce Pugno,” Horus explained. “They were revolutionaries commanded by Speckled Pheasant. That leads me to another issue. Centurion Stylianus had been taken by the rebels. I believe the Captain hired the assassins and is feeling pressure from the Dulce Pugno to get the four Nocte Apibus back. I think they’ll approach us to trade Centurion Stylianus for the knives.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” challenged the Centurion.