Muses of Terra (Codex Antonius Book 2) (13 page)

Juno protect them.

Still sitting in the passenger’s seat, Antonius slapped his hands together. “Now that we’re relieved of the cargo, the real fun can begin.”

13

The way back to the garrison was clear, which made Cordus more nervous. This was once a city of five thousand souls. Had all the humans fled or had the golems done something to them? The tabulari map showed three other roads out of the city. He shuddered to think there might be miles of crosses lining those roads as well.
 

He tracked the unit locator icons on the map. The two armored cars from the spaceport were still twenty minutes out, so Cordus was not worried about them. It was the discipuli car coming off the Tarpeius road that concerned him. It had already entered the city and was heading in Cordus’s location. Judging by its speed, Cordus had less than ten minutes to rescue the Romans and the Umbra Ancile. He hoped no more golems awaited him at the garrison.

“When we arrive,” Antonius said from the passenger seat, “go to the garrison headquarters where the golems had—”

“I know,” Cordus said aloud. “Weapons first, then the prisoners.”

Antonius gave him an approving nod. “Seems you’ve paid attention to the lessons of your Liberti father.”

“He taught me more than my Roman father ever did.”

Antonius clicked his tongue. “Is that bitterness, young Antonius?”

“Just the truth.”

“You can hardly blame your father or your Roman family. They were hosts. They had no choice in the matter.” Antonius grinned. “Think of it this way: If not for them, you wouldn’t have us keeping you company right now, would you?”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a lousy job.”

Antonius laughed. “We weren’t trying to make you feel better. Just giving you the truth.”

Cordus pulled the armored car around a corner and saw the garrison directly ahead. “We’re here. I’d appreciate no more distractions.”

Antonius grunted, then disappeared.

Cordus sighed.
I can’t believe I’m getting used to the bastard. What would Kaeso and Ocella say?
 

He took a deep breath, then punched the accelerator and drove straight toward the garrison entrance. The remains of the mangled gate lay to the side of the entrance where they had crashed through. He scanned the area for movement. The golems he’d destroyed still lay where they fell, and no other golems emerged from the garrison buildings.

Cordus stopped the car next to the golems. He searched the grisly yellow remains for their weapons. They had all carried pulse rifles, but most were damaged by the armored car’s pulse blasts. He only found three rifles that seemed to work, so he slung them over his shoulder. He gathered six ammunition clips, trying to ignore the sticky yellow golem blood and tissue all over them.

He threw the rifles and ammunition into the car and then drove it toward the headquarters building from which the golems had emerged. He grabbed a pulse rifle, jumped out of the armored car, and ran through the open door. The room inside showed the golems cared little for cleanliness. Debris was strewn across the floors—ripped clothing, broken marble busts, tabulari pads, crushed furniture, empty golem food packets. In the corner of the room to Cordus’s right, rust-colored bandage wrappings lay on the floor in the middle of two dark bloodstains. Furniture pieces covered the windows.

Cordus looked for a weapons locker. Seeing none, he hurried to the hallway to his right and tried every door, but they were locked. He rushed to the other wing of the building, but every door was locked besides the latrine room, which did not have windows.

The last Legionaries had barricaded themselves against the golems, so they would have locked all the doors. Cordus had no time to break down each door—the nearest armored car was minutes away—so he raced outside to his idling car and drove it the hundred paces to the prison tower. He parked the car so that it blocked the elevator door. After grabbing the three pulse rifles, he leaped out of the car and ran to the elevator. He quickly prayed the controls weren’t locked and then tapped the “up” button. The doors hummed shut, and the elevator began to rise.

At the top, when the doors opened, Cordus was shocked to see the large octagonal room empty. He stepped out of the elevator, saw movement to his right, and swung the pulse rifle around.

He almost shot Aquilina. She was hiding on the right side of the elevator, ready to attack, but she relaxed when she saw him. The Romans stood on the left side, Paulus Ulpius looking relieved.

Cordus turned back to Aquilina, and she smiled. That smile flustered him and words fled his mind.
Hell of a thing to distract me with certain death on its way.

He found his words after a momentary stutter. “We only have a few minutes.”
 

He handed one pulse rifle to Aquilina and one to Ulpius. Aquilina looked surprised when he gave her the rifle.
If she’s what I think she is, she may get the most use out of this.

“I’m only a merchant—”

“Right, so am I,” Cordus said.
 

He didn’t wait for her response. He hurried back into the elevator as Aquilina and the six Romans followed him. Though all six Romans were gaunt and weary, they seemed determined to leave their prison.
 

He was relieved. It meant he would not have to leave anyone behind.

“Thank you for coming back…merchant,” Aquilina said.

Cordus didn’t want to look at her. Already he felt his Muses stir simply standing beside her. They knew she had an implant and they knew such a thing meant she served their enemies. Cordus ignored their growing fury, for he could control them. Though if he was like every other human host of the Terran Muses, he’d be choking her by now.

But that was not why he refused to look at her. He didn’t want her smile distracting him again.

“You’re welcome…merchant.”
 

“Bloody decent of you, sir,” Ulpius said, and was seconded by murmured thanks from the five other Romans.

“You may not think so when I tell you the plan.”
 

Cordus had explained the situation by the time the elevator touched the ground. Aquilina and the Romans frowned and grumbled but knew they had no choice.
 

When the doors opened, Cordus brought his pulse rifle up and searched the area around them for targets. Finding none, he led them past the armored car and Tarpeius’s rotting corpse, and then sprinted toward the garrison’s wide-open exit. Aquilina kept up with him, her rifle in a firing position that only a trained professional would know. The weakened Romans, however, soon fell a dozen paces behind.
 

When they reached the gate, Cordus stopped and listened. Through his heavy breathing and beating heart, he heard a humming engine and wheels crunching on gravel. The armored car from the north would see them in seconds. Cordus turned back to the Romans behind him.
 

They would not make it across the street in time.
 

 
When Aquilina stopped and looked back at him, Cordus yelled, “Go to the hospital!”

She wanted to say something, but the armored car turned the corner to their right. She grimaced, then raced in the direction of the hospital.

The Romans arrived next to Cordus, all gasping for breath and staring fearfully at the armored car.
 

“The car is going to see us if we stay here,” Cordus said, “so the only chance we have is to cross the street. Move now!”

The legionaries, trained to follow orders without question, pumped their tired legs to cross the street as fast as possible. After the last man started off, Cordus followed with his rifle aimed at the armored car. It would do little good against the car’s armor, but it might draw the attention off the unarmed legionaries.

The car opened fire. Warm blood sprayed Cordus’s face. The torso of the man in front of Cordus disintegrated. He was dead before the halves of his body slapped to the street. Cordus kept running and crossed the street with pulse blasts sending bits of concrete into his bare arms and face.
 

The five surviving Romans took refuge inside a tavern with blown out windows. Ulpius saw his downed comrade, bared his teeth, and then motioned Cordus toward him. Cordus leaped through the open door and followed them to the rear of the building. As they ran toward the back, the armored car stopped out front and its doors creaked open.

“Keep moving,” he whispered harshly as they dodged broken tables and chairs. “They’re dismounting.”

They entered a large kitchen in the same disarray as the common room.
 

“Where’s the Mars-damned back door?” Ulpius growled.

“Over here!” One of the Romans pushed open a metal door behind a large steel cabinet. Sunlight entered the kitchen.

Pulse blasts slammed the Roman back into the door. His body crumpled to the ground outside as the door, now covered in blood, slowly shut on its own.

“Tib!” Ulpius screamed, then lunged for the door. Cordus grabbed his arm. If Ulpius was not half-starved, he could have easily broken Cordus’s grip.

“They’ll kill you too! Your man’s dead.”

“You don’t know that!”

Cordus pulled Ulpius closer. “You saw him.”

Ulpius shut his eyes. “He wasn’t my ‘man’. He was my nephew.”

“We’re surrounded, sir,” one Roman said to Cordus.

Cordus looked at the steel cooking tables. He slung his rifle over his shoulder, snatched Ulpius’s rifle from his hands, and shoved it into the hands of the Roman.

“Cover the door.” He pointed to the other two Romans. “Help me lean these tables on their sides. Make a ‘V’ and then get behind them.”

The Roman covering the door fired several rounds into the common area. Return blasts came from the golems. Stucco shards from the wall flew through the air, and the Roman had to duck behind the door.

“They’re advancing,” he yelled. “I can’t hold them.”
 

With the tables set, Cordus pushed Ulpius, who was still in shock, behind the tables and told everyone else to get behind them. When the Roman near the door jumped over the table, Cordus said, “Cover the common door, I’ll take the back door.”

The Roman nodded. The two Romans behind Cordus wore grim expressions and held cooking knives they’d found on the floor. They’d do little good against pulse rifles, but Cordus admired their determination.

In the seconds it took the golems to organize their assault on the Roman position, Cordus marveled at his mental clarity and total lack of fear. Was it the Muses? Was it his ancestral blood? Marcus Antonius was known as a warrior without fear even before the Muses took him. Cordus knew this from the memories.

Whatever the reason, he was grateful he hadn’t frozen today like he did at Tarpeius’s villa. It would help him die with honor for fellow Romans. It felt as if his life had led up to this moment.

He looked at the Roman with the pulse rifle aimed at the common room door. His eyes were wide and his hands clutched the rifle so tightly they were white. The young man was no more than a year or two older than Cordus, had orange matted hair and a face covered in freckles.

“What’s your name, Legionary? Where are you from?” Cordus asked.

“Gracchus, sir,” the Roman said, watching the door. “From north Atlantium on Terra.”

Cordus turned to the two Romans holding knives. “Your names?”

“Duran,” said the dark-skinned Roman, who looked the same age as Ulpius. “West Africa.”

“Piso, Hiberia,” said the Roman with a bandaged head. “Your name, sir?”

Cordus paused. “Titus,” he said.
If we get out of this, I’ll still need to maintain my cover.

Piso nodded, then gave him a sideways grin. “Glad to have you here, sir.”

Cordus grunted. “Thanks.”

Pulse blasts surged from the common room, bouncing off the steel tables and the wall above them. Gracchus returned fire as best he could, but the fury of the blasts forced his head down. Cordus turned his rifle on the common room door and tried to return fire, but he too had to duck below the deadly pellets.

The blasts suddenly stopped.

“Put down your weapons,” an impassive golem voice said from the door. “We will not—”

Gracchus fired, and the golem fell to the floor. He turned to Cordus. “No deals. I ain’t going to be crucified.”

Cordus nodded once in agreement.

The pulse blasts from the common room resumed, this time at greater intensity. Cordus and Gracchus did their best to return the fire, to keep the golems from advancing further, but it was only a matter of time before their pulse clips went dry.

Blasts came from the back door. Cordus swung his rifle around and fired at the golem coming through. It went down in a spray of yellow blood, but a golem behind it pulled it out of the way and then resumed firing from the same position as the first.

Gracchus stopped firing and cursed. “I’m out.”

Cordus cursed as well. He had forgotten to grab the six ammunition clips he’d thrown into the armored car. They only had the clips in their rifles. Now Gracchus’s rifle was a high-tech club.

Cordus continued firing at the golems at the back door and the common room entry. For every golem he took down, another would emerge.
Where are they coming from? That car should’ve only held six golems!
Cordus wondered if other golems were stationed nearby. Regardless, the other armored cars would arrive in minutes, and then the battle would be over.

Yet he still felt no fear, only calm clarity.
Is this normal?

His pulse rifle clicked empty. He turned to the Romans behind him. “Ready with those knives.”

The golem pulse blasts stopped. Golem boots crunched onto the kitchen floor. Four held their rifles in a firing position. Two more entered through the back door, their rifles aimed at Cordus and the Romans.
 

Cordus stood, holding his rifle like a club. The other Romans stood as well, even Ulpius, who watched the golems at the door with pure hatred in his eyes. He only had his bare hands, but had the look of a man who would kill many golems before he went down.