Vulcan's Fury: The Dark Lands (14 page)

“But why didn’t the water kill him?” Paulus asked.

“I read in my research of Aquitania that the waters are not so deadly during a storm, and immediately after,” Valeria said, “as if the wind and rain chases the spirits from the sea for a time.”

Marcus looked to Pelonius, who nodded in agreement.
 

“And what of these things?” Marcus pointed to one of the dark wolves. “How did they cross?”

“The same way,” Karan answered. “Another great storm set in twelve days ago, and they came with it.”

“How would they know to cross?” Valeria asked. “I thought you said they retreated to the safety of the jungle during the first storm.”

“They did. But once they have the blood scent of the prey, they will never stop hunting for him. They have been known to leap into the water and pursue prey that tries to escape into the sea, even though both sword and
fisi
are doomed by the act.” He shook his head. “The pack leader tasted my blood before the Hunt began, and knew where I went into the water. He must have waited there, searching for me, until your gods again raised this bridge you speak of, that the hunters might cross to find me.”

“And these Masters of yours,” Septimus asked, “set that entire army of beasts after you?”

Karan frowned. “No, not so many. Not at first. The hunt always begins with twelve Swords as prey. We are given a head start before the first hunters are released, ten for each of us. One hundred and twenty more
fisi
are released each day of the hunt, until all the Swords are gone. I know of eight who perished. Of the other three, I know not.” He frowned. “The Masters must have assumed for some time that I was still alive, and released most, even all, of the pack.”

Marcus sighed. To Pelonius, he said, “We must know everything he knows, and quickly. But we have the answers to my most pressing questions. The Empire now stands under threat from the Dark Lands, and Karan here is a runaway slave.”

“But he belongs to no Roman!” Valeria protested. “If he is a slave, he is so to masters who, after letting these beasts terrorize our lands, can only be considered enemies of the Empire, which makes him an ally…of sorts. And since he pledged his sword and life to me, if he has a Roman owner, it is I.” She looked to Paulus to support her supposition. He shrugged, noncommittal.
 

“I agree with the princess,” Pelonius said, “although accepting his service is not exactly the same as him offering his life as a slave.”

Marcus blew out a breath. “We can sort out the details of all this later, but two things are clear to me. The slavery laws say that slaves of foreign lands may be claimed by any Roman citizen as their own, so until someone says otherwise, Karan now belongs to you.”
 

Looking at Pelonius, Valeria said with a smile, “The first thing I shall do as his
domina
is make him a free man.”

“You can make him into a pony and ride him if you like, girl,” Marcus went on, his voice taking on a grim tone. “The second thing we must do is find where this bridge makes landfall on our shore and fortify it so no more of those beasts — or worse — make their way across. Karan, can you help us find this place?”

The Ghost nodded. “It is well known to me.”

“Good,” Marcus said, relieved. “Once we get what’s left of
Invictus
sorted out, we’re going to march straight there and deploy the remainder of the legion from Augusta Viromanduorum to hunt down this pack of monsters.”

“Is that wise, given what happened here?” Pelonius asked.

“It’s dangerous and they’ll suffer casualties, but better to put soldiers in harm’s way than to leave the villages and towns of the province completely defenseless.”

“Won’t they just come back to find Karan?” Valeria asked.

“Perhaps, but perhaps not,” Karan replied. “The
fisi
have my scent, but only the pack leader had my blood. With him dead and the beasts badly beaten, and the air so choked with the scent of blood, they may not return for me. They will also be vulnerable until they choose another leader, so the sooner your swords may fall upon them, the easier they may be killed.” With a reverent gaze he looked at Hercules, who sat on his haunches now, licking his wounds. “They also will never come near the scent or sound of your god.”

Valeria laughed. “While he can be a bit imposing, he’s not a god. He’s a hexatiger, and my companion since I was a child. His name is Hercules. You have such animals where you come from, then?”

“Oh, yes,” Karan said. “They are most revered, for only the greatest of the Swords are ever chosen to face them. Perhaps, had I not fallen to this bridge of yours and defeated the remainder of the pack hunting me, I would have been given such an honor.”

“I…I cannot imagine such a thing,” Valeria said, horrified.

“It’s happened in the games, princess,” Septimus told her. “Not often, because hexatigers are so rare, but it’s happened.”

Valeria clenched her hands. “I shall have father write an imperial decree to ban such atrocities!”
 

“While men are still sent to die upon the sands of the arena,” Pelonius said quietly.

“All right, enough,” Marcus snapped. “You two can talk like Greek philosophers all you like, but only after we do what needs to be done. Paulus, I want a count of the dead and wounded, and send the senior surviving centurion of each cohort to me. We need to consolidate the men who can still fight. I don’t like the thought of those beasts coming back for a second round and us not being prepared. And have some men scout around to see if any horses are still about. I need to send couriers to the legion’s garrison and Rome as soon as possible. But tell the men they are not to stray into the forest beyond sight of the meadow. We’ve suffered enough casualties for one day.”

“Yes, centurion,” Paulus said.

“Pelonius,” Marcus went on, “I know it’s not your job, but absent a
medicus
, you’re the most knowledgeable about the medical arts and I want you to do what you can for the wounded.”
 

“I will assist,” Valeria offered.
 

Marcus gave her a hard stare. “Caring for the wounded is a gory business, girl. You should stay out of the way.”

Valeria huffed. “I’ll not sit idle while everyone else works toward common purpose. I doubt helping the men will be much bloodier than what I’ve seen already this day.”

Septimus grinned and turned to Marcus. “Does she get that from her father or mother?”

“Both,” Marcus grunted, and Hercules mewled, as if in agreement.
 

“And what of Karan?” Valeria asked, turning to where the Ghost…had just been. “Where did he go?”

Marcus and the others stared with disbelieving eyes. Karan had been right beside her just a moment before, but was now gone, vanished into thin air.

“I sure would like to know how he pulls off that little trick,” Septimus muttered.

“You’re not the only one,” Marcus agreed. Leaning closer, he whispered. “You stick by the princess’s side, no matter what. I’m not sure how far we can trust this Ghost of hers, and you’re the only one who might be able to take him if he falls to mischief.”

“Understood. And I can help Pelonius with some of the bloodier work.”

“We have to find Karan!” Valeria exclaimed, oblivious to the exchange between the two men.

“Don’t worry about him,” Pelonius said. “I suspect he’ll be found if and when he wants to be.”

“Probably just had to take a piss.” Septimus frowned. “Come to think of it, so do I.”

“Later,” Marcus growled. “Get to it, all of you. I want this mess sorted out before dark.”

***

As it happened, night had long since fallen before all that Centurion Tullius had set before those in his charge had been accomplished. Details of soldiers dug pits to bury the dead, while Pelonius, Valeria, and Septimus did what they could for the wounded. Some they could save, others might live if they survived the night, but many more found the mercy of Septimus’s dagger. The bites of the beasts proved deadly, not simply because they had torn through flesh or crushed bone, but because they wrought swift and furious festering. At one point, smitten with agonized frustration, Pelonius said, “These men may as well have been stricken with poison.”

At last, Valeria allowed herself to collapse beside one of the many bonfires that had been lit in the legion’s overnight encampment. Never had she been so exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Men screaming in battle had been one thing. Men screaming as she helped to hold them down while Pelonius sawed off a limb and Septimus put his red hot sword to the spurting wound to seal it was something else. After she had vomited the first and only time, Septimus had told her, “Young fools join the army for glory, but there’s not much more to war than blood, piss, shit, and burned meat, when you get right down to it.” When he had given mercy to the first man who stood no chance of survival, driving his dagger quickly through the soldier’s heart, she had been angry with Septimus for being so cold about it. But as more soldiers, torn and bloody, had been brought for aid and found in hopeless straits, she had come to look upon his dagger truly as a mercy. The alternative would have been a trial of deepest agony before the inevitable outcome.
 

Upon reflection now, she should have paid heed to Marcus’s admonition to just stay out of the way, taking the path of any properly pampered Roman noblewoman. Despite herself, she broke down in tears.

“You did good, princess.” She felt a hand on her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. It was Septimus. “No man I’ve ever served with could have done better.” He grinned. “Just don’t tell your mother I said that.”

Blinking away the tears, she looked up at him and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
 

“Think you can handle something to eat?” he asked.

“Yes, as long as it isn’t meat.” A haunch of one of the beasts had been set over the fire on a spit, and she recoiled from the smell. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to eat meat again.
 

Hercules, however, suffered no such aversions. Valeria having tended to his wounds, he had proceeded to stuff himself on the bounty provided by the dark wolves. Now he lay beside the fire, his belly exposed to the stars, snoring louder than a tent full of soldiers.

Shaking his head at the sleeping hexatiger, Septimus handed Valeria half a loaf of bread. “Here. It’s so stale that it’ll probably break your teeth, but it’ll fill your belly.” Then he handed her a cup of wine. “This’ll help wash it down.”

“Thank you.” She took the bread and tore off a chunk with her hands, which were still covered with blood from the wounded. She paused to look at it, caked and dried on her hands, so dark it was nearly black. She had forgotten to wash her hands. Right now she didn’t care, and her body rebelled at the thought of ever having to get up again. Her stomach growled with hunger. Ignoring the blood, she dunked the bread in the wine to help soften it, then eagerly shoved it into her mouth.

A moment later, Pelonius came to sit down beside her with a muffled groan. His normally spotless white tunic was splashed with dark crimson, as were his hands and arms all the way up to his shoulders. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that much blood.”

“And when was this?” Valeria asked as she continued grinding the bread between her teeth. “You’ve been with me my entire life, always a scribe, and yet today I feel I hardly know you.”

“You don’t know the man I was,” he corrected gently, “and that is as it should be.”

“Stories for another time, princess,” Septimus said, winking at Pelonius, who rolled his eyes.

“The only tale I want told right now,” Marcus said as he and Paulus emerged from the darkness into the light of the fire, “is a bedtime story.” He stepped forward and drew his dagger to cut off hunks of meat for himself and the others, save Valeria. “We’ve got things in order as well as I could expect,” he went on. “We’ll break camp at first light and march for the sea.”

The others groaned. “So early?” Valeria complained.

“Yes, so early,” Marcus told her without a hint of repentance. “We’ve got to find that underwater bridge and make sure nothing else comes across while the Emperor decides what to do.”

“And how do you propose to find the bridge without our guide?” Septimus asked.
 

Valeria looked at the ground, trying to conceal her disappointment. The Ghost’s disappearance clearly had not gone unnoticed.
 

“I am here.”

They looked up to see Karan’s silhouette part from the darkness. In one hand he held the reins of a horse that followed behind him.

“You found a horse!” Valeria exclaimed. Her exhaustion forgotten, she got to her feet and went to him, as did the others. “The men Marcus sent couldn’t find any.”

“He didn’t find just one,” Septimus said in amazement as more horses materialized from the shadows, “he found six!” The reins of each horse had been tied to the saddle of the horse in front of it.
 

Karan turned and rubbed his hand up the forehead of the horse he led. “They are beautiful and gentle creatures,” he said softly.

“Are there horses where you come from?” Valeria asked.

“Yes,” he said, his expression darkening in the flickering glow of the fire light. “But none such as these.”

“My gratitude, Karan,” Marcus said formally. “Do you think the path back the way we came is clear of the beasts?”

“Yes. They have gone the other way, farther into the mountains. For now.”
 

“Finally some good news,” Marcus breathed. “Paulus, I want six men, the best riders we have. Now.”

“Yes, centurion!” Paulus then dashed into the darkness.
 

Before Marcus could say anything else, Karan unslung a bag from over his shoulder and handed it to him.
 

“What’s this?” Marcus asked. Opening the bag, he found it stuffed full of foul smelling weeds.

“Herbs for your wounds, and for the others who have been bitten or clawed,” Karan told him. “Grind them with just enough water to make a paste, or chew them, and press it into the wounds before you bind them with clean cloth. Otherwise…” He glanced at Valeria. “Otherwise, the wounds will fester and you will likely die.”