Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 1

by J. Clifton Slater

  Alerio began weaving figure eights in the air with his gladii while stepping forward.

  “What if I die? We shout. They’ll cut us down from left to right,” he sang as his blades came closer and closer to the mob of sailors. “Second line up, fill the gaps and fight. Hold the Line Lads, Hold the Line.”

  The closest two sailors realized the danger and backed up into the other six. For a moment, the Qart Hadasht rowers bunched together freeing a narrow path to the ramp. Just as the snatch team reached the end of the ramp, the sailors let out inhuman screeches and surged forward. The snatch team was driven back.

  From the ramp, the singer rushed forward and smashed into the rowers’ flanks. They staggered to the side from the shield’s impact and the path to the ramp reopened.

  “Who is she? We shout. A brown eyed girl looking for a rescuer,” Alerio and his team sang. “You’re the right Legionary, to be her deliverer. Hold the Line Lads, Hold the Line.”

  The snatch team reached the ramp and the Legionary singer backed up using his shield to prevent anyone from the ship from following.

  Alerio chopped a sailor’s hand off and for a heartbeat, he looked into the face of the rower. The man opened his mouth and let out an animal sound from deep in his throat. That’s when Alerio noticed the rower’s tongue had been cutout. As the man sank to the deck holding the stump, Alerio drove his other gladius from near the deck upward and split the chin of another sailor.

  “Know what I think? We shout,” Alerio sang as he stomped a foot and neatly peeled off a section from another’s sailor’s scalp. “In a melee brawl, it’s not political debate. It’s gladius muscle, as Gods test your fate.”

  From the two Legionaries racing down the merchant ships’ ramps, the snatch team with the barbarian, and the Legionary singer, he heard, “Hold the Line Lads, Hold the Line.”

  But the final words of the song were sung from near the corner of the warehouse as they raced away with the barbarian captive. Another sound followed the fading notes. City guardsmen were calling out as they descended on the harbor.

  Alerio pulled in his elbows as hands reached for him. The remaining rowers had circled and were trying to grab on and drag him to the deck.

  “Who are they? We shout. They’re in the valley to murder our families,” he sang while using the hilts of the gladii to punch and gouge at the sailors. “We’re here to kill, those homicidal savages. Hold the Line Lads, Hold the Line.”

  His attack rocked back a sailor leaving a gap in the circle. Alerio bent his knees and, catching the rowers off guard, he vaulted out of their clutches. In two hopping steps, he reached the ramp.

  Two sailors paused briefly, then ran for the ramp. Alerio snatched up his shield, batted both into the water then, the Legion squad leader, sprinted for the corner of the warehouse. Behind him, the rowers roared, collected themselves and ran for the shore.

  Six city guardsmen met the rowers as they came off the boat.

  “What happened?” a guardsman asked.

  When the mute sailors attempted to push aside the city guard, they were beaten. One guardsman saw a Legionary running with a shield flying behind him.

  “There,” he shouted directing the other four. “One’s getting away.”

  The guardsman left the unconscious sailors and ran for the warehouse.

  At the west gate, a trumpet sounded one long note. The guardsmen who beat the sailors and chased after Alerio had come from the east-west boulevard. One roving patrol from the north-south boulevard angled towards the docks. What Alerio couldn’t know was another patrol from the south gate responded to the trumpet. When they reached the Golden Valley trading house, they split with two guardsmen going behind the compound while the other three kept to the road.

  Alerio sprinted down the line of warehouses. When he cleared the last building, he was confident he’d gotten away. At the corner of the Golden Valley’s walls, two guardsmen holding lanterns rounded the far corner. The Decanus turned to the road in front of the trading house. But three more guardsmen appeared.

  From between the warehouses, four more city guards approached while searching every dark corner as they came. Alerio looked hard at the city’s thirty feet high defensive wall, realized he couldn’t scale it, and resigned himself to surrendering. And being murdered in a cell by the Cruor Gang.

  A noise drew his attention. As if someone had dropped an armload of kindling against bricks, the wood tapped, tapped, tapped from high up on the trading house wall to waist high.

  Chapter 44 - An Ally in Need is an Ally Indeed

  “Climb Legionary,” a voice whispered from atop the trading house’s wall.

  Alerio slipped the shield’s strap over his shoulder and slung the big shield onto his back. As the heavy infantry shield settled, he jumped and clutched at the rope ladder. It took effort to climb hand-over-hand until he could get a foot on the first narrow rung. Once he had footing, he made short work of scaling the wall.

  “Excuse me,” the man said politely.

  He was squatting on the flat narrow top of the wall. Despite his precarious perch, the man reached around Alerio and began pulling up the ladder. Once he gathered the entire length, he dropped the flexible rope and rungs down the interior side of the compound’s wall.

  “After you,” invited the man.

  Alerio glanced at the guardsmen as the two groups converged on the grass below him. Rapidly, he swung his legs around and used the ladder to reach a courtyard.

  The man jumped, fell for half the distance before grabbing one side of the ladder. It slowed his fall enough so when he released the rope, his final drop required only a slight bend to his knees to land safely.

  “Welcome back to the Golden Valley trading house,” Favus said in greeting.

  The merchant glided across the ground with almost no movement to his upper body. When he stopped a couple of feet from the Legionary, it was as if he had been standing there the entire time.

  “I appreciate the assistance, again,” Alerio replied.

  “Are you injured?” Favus inquired.

  “A few cuts and a lot of bruises,” replied the Legionary. “Nothing that requires medical attention.”

  “I am pleased,” Favus exclaimed. “Because I need to speak with you. And I want to show you something. Follow me.”

  From standing still in front of the Legionary, the merchant ghosted to a dark open doorway in the rear of the trading house. Alerio had to rush to catch up. As he jogged across the courtyard, it occurred to him the merchant might be more than a trader in exotic goods. Favus might be an assassin of the Dulce Pugno.

  Inside the storeroom of the trading house, Favus guided him to a two-course wide brick stairway.

  “I can lower a rope and pulled you up,” Favus offered as he nimbly took the first five steps.

  “Unnecessary,” Alerio assured him as he unstrapped the shoulder armor. “Is it alright to leave the shield and armor here?”

  The man who had helped him over the wall took the shoulder, the chest and back pieces and the shield.

  “Your war gear will be here when we’ve finished,” the merchant assured Alerio as he started up the narrow stairs.

  The former farm boy followed the merchant as the steps doubled back four times before Favus stopped. He reached out and pushed a cover. Stars appeared in the opening and Alerio realized they were just under the roof of the trading house. A final climb and they were on the roof tiles, squatting beside each other on a flat piece of slate.

  They stayed like that for a long time before Alerio broke the silence.

  “It’s a beautiful view of the Capital,” Alerio observed.

  “Look over to the northeast between the four lanterns,” Favus ordered. “Watch as they blink out and rapidly relight.”

  He held a stick level and used it to guide Alerio’s eyes to a place across the city. Sure enough, the lanterns went dark momentarily before resuming a steady glow.

  “Those are your five Legionaries on th
e street before the inn,” Favus stated. “They avoided the guardsmen and should be back with your Colonel shortly.”

  “Thank you. That takes a load off my shoulders,” Alerio confessed but a questioned occurred to him. “How did you know the Colonel was at the inn?”

  “The same way I knew you plucked the Insubri Prince from the Qart Hadasht ship,” answered Favus. “The same way the Clay Ear gathers information. I have spies throughout the city.”

  “I’d expect nothing less from the Dulce Pugno,” Alerio stated testing to see the merchant’s reaction.

  “Ah my friend, we don’t use that term in the city,” Favus replied.

  But Favus didn’t deny being an assassin from the Sweet Fist. Alerio tried a harder question, “Did you accept a contract on Senator Ferox?”

  “We do not discuss our customers. Not who the customer is or what they purchase,” the assassin explained. “However, I can assure you, we did not take a contract on Senator Faunus.”

  “Of that I’m sure,” Alerio said with confidence. “Senator Faunus’ assassination was a bloody street brawl. Hardly an elegant execution of a secret contract.”

  “Thank you for realizing that,” Favus said accepting the compliment to his skills. “Senator Faunus is why I wanted to speak with you in private.”

  “I’m here. And based on the numerous city guard patrols I can see,” Alerio stated. “I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

  “Trading houses of the Golden Valley do not get involved in local politics,” Favus clarified. “In most cases, a change in leadership makes no difference to our business. We trade with the Republic, the rebels opposing you, the Greeks, and the Qart Hadasht Empire. The groups we do not trade with are the northern and western tribes. They take before trading and kill before negotiating. Until they provide safe trading, we deem it fitting to assist you.”

  “Assist me how?” questioned Alerio. “Kill Vivianus? Take out Gabrielus? Either would be appreciated.”

  “No. The Senator is the Senate’s business,” Favus informed him. “The barbarian, Prince Gabrielus, is a different story. I may be able to provide proof of his involvement in Senator Faunus’s murder.”

  “How? The reports say nothing was stolen, even the ropes and staff of his office were found on the body. There’s nothing to connect Gabrielus to the crime,” Alerio declared. “As much as I appreciate the offer of help, I’m afraid the word of a merchant wouldn’t be enough to tie him to the assassination.”

  “Senator Faunus’ wife was once a Priestess of Luna,” Favus explained. “To honor the moon Goddess she served, she wore an amulet. Hidden under her blouse should have been the trinket; a gold half-moon against a blue sky of crushed sapphires with moonstones as stars. It depicts Luna driving a two-yoke chariot pulled by a team of charging bulls across the sky. The amulet was a gift from the Senator when he was a Tribune. She never went anywhere without it. It was not found on her body.”

  “How does locating a piece of jewelry help?” asked Alerio. “And how do you know about the missing jewelry?”

  “The Clay Ear didn’t know? My source is inside the Senator’s villa, not waiting at the wash racks,” a self-satisfied Favus stated. Then he continued. “The Insubri like shiny trophies. If the amulet was taken during the attack, one of the killers will have it.”

  “If the Insubri Prince’s men ambushed the Senator, anyone could have taken it. There’s only one way,” Alerio stopped talking then ventured. “Are you saying Gabrielus has the amulet?”

  “I am not saying he definitely has the amulet,” admitted the merchant. “What I know is the Prince has a chest in his room full of trinkets. If he is in possession of the Luna charm, it will be in that chest.”

  “Will you get it for me?” asked Alerio hopefully.

  “There is a legal term; chain of custody. If I were to hand you the amulet, who is to say it wasn’t me who murdered the Senator,” advised Favus. “No, Ally of the Golden Valley, I can’t touch the charm. On the other hand, I can return you to the inn.”

  “How? There are active patrols across the city,” Alerio reminded the merchant.

  “We have a delivery for the grandstand at the festival leaving shortly,” explained Favus. “A harness on one of the horses could come loose. When the wagon driver stops to adjust it, a stowaway could slip out of the wagon, and steal away into the dark.”

  Chapter 45 – Trolls

  The snatch team of Legionaries had crossed the boulevard as the alarm went out. With city guards rushing around, they were forced to duck into an alley. Fortunately, all the guardsmen eventually headed for the harbor. Moving quickly through the shadows, the five men and the barbarian prince remained undetected as they crept back to the inn.

  “Where’s Lance Corporal Sisera?” Gratian demanded as they came through the side gate.

  “We have the barbarian,” the two big Legionaries offered.

  They shoved the prisoner forward as if to provide evidence.

  “Take him to the Colonel,” Gratian ordered while motioning the pair of Legion escorts towards the inn. Then he grabbed another member of the team and challenged. “Where is Sisera?”

  “He ordered us to leave,” the Private replied. “He said our only job was to get the barbarian to the Colonel.”

  “But where is he?” insisted the Tesserarius.

  “The last time we saw him,” another reported. “He was on the boat surrounded by trolls.”

  “Surrounded by what?” an astonished Gratian asked.

  “Trolls, Corporal. The Qart Hadasht boat was guarded by trolls,” repeated the Legionary.

  “He’s right,” another confirmed. “Trolls right out of mythology.”

  “Why didn’t you help him? How did you get away?” Gratian inquired. “Weren’t you also surrounded by, by the trolls?”

  “No, Tesserarius. I was on a merchant ship talking to a sailor from Beneventum,” replied the Private. “But they were trolls, I can assure you.”

  Gratian beckoned the three remaining members of the snatch team over to where the lantern light was brightest. He studied each man’s armor, shield, and helmet. There wasn’t a blood splatter on any of the three.

  “And, where were you?” he asked another one.

  “Talking betting with an old sailor,” replied the Legionary. “He has some interesting ideas on picking winning chariot teams.”

  Gratian held up a hand to stop the man and asked the third member, “And, what were you doing while Sisera was surrounded by trolls?”

  “Singing Corporal. I was singing,” the Legionary stated.

  Before the NCO could ask another question, Centurion Kellerian shouted from the backdoor. “Corporal Gratian. Front and center.”

  “We’ll talk later,” he said to the three confused Legionaries. Then he jogged for the inn and disappeared through the doorway.

  “Trolls? Did you say Lance Corporal Sisera was killed by trolls?” asked a Legionary. He and several others gathered around the snatch team.

  “Yes. Trolls. Thickly muscled like oxen with no necks,” one replied. “And they didn’t speak. Just screeched and growled as they clawed at him.”

  “That’s an ugly way to die,” a newly arrived Private ventured. “They probably ate him.”

  His declaration was agreed upon unanimously by the crowd. Then, each Legionary went to tell the tale of the trolls to his squad mates.

  Chapter 46 - A Colonel Trumps an Insubri Prince

  Corporal Gratian rushed down the hall. Pushing through the double doors, he entered the great room to find the two big Legionaries flanking the barbarian. The three stood in front of a table. Thomasious Harricus and Colonel Nigellus sat at the table looking across at the barbarian. Centurion Kellerian paced the floor off to the side. Everyone turned at the sound of the doors swinging open.

  “Sirs. Tesserarius Gratian, reporting as ordered,” he announced.

  “Gratian. Did all the team make it back?” Nigellus inquired.

  “No
, sir. Lance Corporal Sisera is missing,” the NCO said. He kept his tone professional yet his true emotion showed through as he bit off each word.

  “Any wounded?” the Colonel asked.

  “No, sir. No medical attention or equipment repairs required,” he replied while scanning the last two members of the snatch team.

  These two at least displayed some blood splatter. Although it wasn’t what he’d expect after an assault.

  “Our barbarian here refuses to talk with me,” the Colonel advised. “I wanted you here so there was no confusion.”

  “Confusion, sir?” inquired Gratian.

  “Yes, Corporal. I don’t want my orders misconstrued,” Nigellus explained as he shoved back his chair and stood. He turned to face the prisoner before continuing. “In the morning, you will take the barbarian to the nearest open park and crucify him. Is that clear?”

  “I understand sir. If I might make a request?” asked Gratian. “I’d like to saw off his feet before he goes up on the wood.”

  “But he’ll bleed out and die,” the Colonel complained. “I want him to suffer.”

  “He’ll suffer, sir,” the Corporal promised. “We’ll tie off his thighs to stop the blood loss. Of course, we’ll need to tie the tourniquets painfully tight around his legs to stop the bleeding at his ankles. If that’s enough pain for you, sir?”

  “It’s agreeable to me. Centurion Kellerian. Your opinion?” asked Nigellus.

  “Colonel, treatment like that is savage,” the Centurion said with horror in his voice. “Crucifixion is one thing. But you’ll have the Corporal mutilate, ah, what’s your name?”

  Everyone stopped as they waited for the barbarian to reply. Five heartbeats later he did.

  “I am Prince Peregrinus of the Insubri,” he announced. “I am not afraid to die.”

  “The crucifixion wouldn’t kill you. Unless I leave you up there for several days,” explained Colonel Nigellus. “No, Prince. The Corporal will cut you down after a few painful days. You won’t die. But, if you want to walk around, you’ll need to learn to balance on stumps.”