Vulcan's Fury: The Dark Lands (6 page)

With that indignity and the other miseries of the trip behind her, the mysteries of Aquitania now drew her on more strongly with each step. “Enough of this,” she announced as she took her horse to a canter, pulling ahead of the soldiers. “The baggage can catch up to us.”

Stifling a curse, Marcus and the other soldiers of her personal guard charged ahead to catch up, with four breaking into a gallop, running ahead of the princess in case trouble should be lurking farther along the road. With a happy grunt, Hercules broke into a trot beside her, easily keeping pace with Valeria’s horse, his great eyes glowing in the gathering darkness. The carriage bearing her things and the creaking carts laden with supplies fell behind, guarded by the other soldiers Marcus had chosen to accompany them on this trek.

“There you are, uncle,” Valeria said with a mischievous smile as Marcus pulled up along her right side and Paulus on her left. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw Septimus behind her, and she laughed as she saw his mouth move in what could only be a venomous curse. Beside him was the standard bearer, the golden eagle at the top that was the universal symbol of Roman power gleaming in the last light of the sun. The red banner below it bore the letters SPQR, short for
Senatus Populusque Romanus
, The Senate and People of Rome, fluttering in the wind of their passage. She had seen the acronym countless times in her life, but for the very first time it sent a shiver down her spine. Turning away, she kicked her horse into a full gallop and leaned forward, her face inches from its mane as she raced the soldiers to the city’s main gate, an ornate arched entryway through the thirty foot high stone wall.

Her elation at beating her protectors in the race transformed into fear as soldiers poured out of the gate to take up defensive positions, blocking her way. “What is the meaning of this?” She demanded.

“Make way for Princess Valeria, daughter of the Emperor!” Marcus boomed, his voice echoing from the city wall as he rode forward until the muzzle of his horse was just beyond the points of the
pila
, or spears, the soldiers leveled at him over their shields. The other soldiers of Valeria’s guard encircled her, ready to draw their swords. “How dare you raise weapons against the princess!”

“Marcus Tullius, is that you?” A soldier bearing the crest of a fellow centurion called out.

“Atticus?” Marcus said. “Atticus Cantius?”

The other centurion stepped forward through the shield wall formed by his men to get a closer look. “Tullius, by all the gods, it is you! I would say it was good to see you, but your timing could not be worse.” He cast his eyes over the other soldiers with Marcus, and the annoyed looking girl they protected. To his men, he said, “Lower your weapons! Make welcome the princess!”

The soldiers instantly stood to attention, then with precise movements parted to either side of the gate, forming a ceremonial honor guard.

Marcus held his tongue until the princess approached, bringing her horse to a stop before Centurion Cantius. “What is the meaning of this?” She repeated in a cold voice.

“Princess,” the centurion said, saluting and bowing his head, “I can only beg forgiveness for such a rude welcome, but after what has happened, our general commanded that no one may enter the city without close inspection.”

“You said our timing could not have been worse,” Marcus said. “What did you mean by that?”

“You haven’t heard?” Cantius frowned. “The general sent couriers to you bearing word, requesting that you return to Rome, or at least delay your visit here until we knew it was safe.”

“If they came south along the Via Aurelia, they would have missed us,” Tullius told him. “We took a more westward route.”

“
But why?
” Valeria’s patience was quickly wearing thin. “Why wouldn’t we be safe here?”

“Because, princess,” Cantius told her in a grim voice, “the people in one of the villages in the province were massacred to the last soul, and we are marching at first light tomorrow to investigate.”

***

“Princess, it has been far too long.”

Valeria could not help but blush as
Legatus
Canus Sergius, commanding general of the legion known as
Legio
XVII
Invictus
, kissed her hand. He was young for a general, only in his mid-twenties, and undeniably handsome. His skin was dark, hearkening back to his Nubian ancestors, while his eyes were a rare and startling blue. His wiry black hair was trimmed short, barely more than stubble, which went completely against the norm among Roman men. She thought it looked fabulous on him. He was about the same height as Paulus, thinner perhaps, and she had no doubt that the well defined chest and abdominal muscles sculpted into his gilded breast plate were a reflection of the flesh that lay beneath.

“I…” She had to catch her breath, trying not to appear a fool. “I don’t recall having made your acquaintance before, general.”

He smiled, his white teeth seeming to glow in the bright light from the torches and central fire of his home. “You were but five years old at the time, and I was about as old as this young man here.” He reluctantly released Valeria and put his hand on Paulus’s shoulder. “Paulus Furius, I presume?”

“Yes, general. I’m very honored to meet you.”

“I knew your mother and father well,” Sergius told him. “My long-belated condolences on your loss.”

Paulus bobbed his head. “Thank you, sir.”

Turning to Marcus and Septimus, he said, “Centurion Tullius and Optio Cominius. It’s been a long time.”
 

Both men bowed their heads. “General,” Tullius said for them both in a voice that Valeria thought was unusually cool.

“The last time I saw these two,” Sergius said, turning to Valeria, “was just before the Battle of Agrigentum six years ago.” He grimaced. “That was a nasty bit of business, wasn’t it?”

“Indeed, it was, sir,” Tullius said tightly. Beside him, she saw a haunted expression pass over Septimus’s face like the shadow of a cloud, and the fingers of his sword hand twitched ever so slightly.
 

“And you have Pelonius the scribe with you.” Sergius nodded to Pelonius, who stood behind the others, “Behold, the most famous freed slave in all the Empire.”

Pelonius inclined his head. “The general is too kind.”

Sergius laughed. “As you say, Pelonius. As you say.” He peered behind Pelonius to where Hercules was lying on the floor, tail twitching. “Ah! There he is! I was hoping that you would bring your hexatiger. Such a magnificent animal, he was still smaller than a regular tiger when I saw you all those years ago. Never have I seen the like. He’s enormous!”
 

Hercules regarded him with his great yellow eyes, then laid his ears back. A low rumble escaped his throat, a sound almost too low for human hearing. Most people, not knowing anything about him, would think it was a hexatiger purr, but Valeria knew better. He was growling.

“But where are my manners?” Sergius said, quickly turning his attention back to the others. “Please, princess and honored guests—” He gestured toward the table on which a lavish spread of delicacies awaited. “—my table is yours.”

The men waited for Valeria to take her seat, followed by the general, who was joined by the senior officers of his legion.
 

“My apologies for not being able to meet with you upon your arrival, princess, and also for our unusual dining arrangements,” Sergius said as a slave offered Valeria, who sat at his right hand, a portion of perfectly seasoned roast chicken, “but I have, as you were informed, been preparing the legion for march at sunrise tomorrow. And this,” he waved his hand as if to take in the room in which they dined, “is something of a final staff meeting.”

“You need not apologize, general,” Valeria said graciously. “But please do tell what this is all about. With all due respect to your officers and men, no one has offered us any further word of what has happened than did Centurion Cantius when we reached the city gate.”

“As per my orders, princess. I wanted you to receive nothing but the latest information from my own lips.” He paused as he took a sip of wine. “Six days ago a citizen of Camaracum, which happens to be the third largest village in the province, rode into the city. He looked as if he had been on the losing end of a fight with your Hercules. His tunic was in tatters and spattered with blood, and he bore a dozen or more wounds, terrible bites and claw marks, made by some sort of animal. His horse was in little better shape, and had to be given mercy. I’m surprised the poor animal made it so far.” Sergius frowned as he took another sip of wine. “The man was delirious, the wounds already festering badly. All we could get out of him before he died was that the village had been attacked.”

“By whom, sir?” Tullius asked.

Sergius regarded him over the brim of his golden goblet. “Dark Wolves.”

“Impossible,” Pelonius breathed.

“Why is that impossible?” Valeria asked, confused. “I’ve read that the forests here have wolves aplenty, along with bears and lions, and even tigers. Why couldn’t there be dark wolves?”

“Because Dark Wolves are not at all like the wolves with which you are familiar, princess,” Pelonius explained. “They are mythical creatures dating back to a time of the First Spring. Legend says that a bridge once existed for a time between this continent and the Dark Lands, and the Dark Wolves and other creatures, some far more frightening, used it to cross the Haunted Sea to feast on the flesh of men. But Neptune took mercy upon us, and as the world warmed during the First Spring he commanded the waters to consume the bridge and made them deadly so that the evil of the Dark Lands could reach us no more.” He grimaced. “The accounts surrounding the Dark Wolves and the other spawn of the Dark Lands are among the oldest and most obscure in our history, and few of our people today have ever even heard of Dark Wolves. My compliments to you on your knowledge, general.”

“My thanks, Pelonius.” Sergius raised his goblet in a mock toast. “And so it was, based on the ravings of this poor soul, that I suspected he had simply fallen victim to an animal attack during his travels, for that happens with tragic regularity in some areas of the deeper forests. But I could not take the chance that something more serious had taken place: brigands and thieves have been known to menace villages now and again, but never in recent times have they posed any real threat to more than the smallest habitation. So I dispatched a cavalry squadron of thirty men to Camaracum to investigate.”

“What did they find?” Valeria asked. She realized that she was leaning so far toward the general that she was steadying herself with one hand on the arm of his chair, but didn’t care. She was near to trembling with excitement.

“I wish I knew,” Sergius told her in a grim voice. “They never returned, nor did they send word via messenger. The village is a day and a half away for men moving fast on horseback, and even allowing for unexpected delays along the way, they should have reported back by now.” He caught Tullius’s questioning look. In answer to the centurion’s unasked question, Sergius said, “Their commander was an experienced soldier and should not have been easily caught unaware. ”

“Bugger all,” Septimus breathed.

“Not quite the way I would have put it,” Sergius said, arching an eyebrow, “but eloquently said nonetheless. And so it is that come dawn tomorrow, the bulk of
Legio Invictus
will march to Camaracum. I’ll be taking six cohorts and half the cavalry with me, while the rest of the legion remains here to safeguard the city and act as a reserve for the province should any additional threats emerge.”

“We’re coming with you,” Valeria blurted.

All eyes turned to stare at her.

“I must beg your forgiveness, princess,” the general said with what could only be a patronizing look, “but that’s quite impossible. A woman has no business on such a potentially perilous expedition.”

Valeria slowly straightened, her spine becoming ramrod straight as she held the general’s gaze. Her nostrils flared, and she saw Marcus’s lips press into a thin line as he forced himself to keep his mouth shut. “I am the daughter of the Emperor, General Sergius,” she said in a tone of voice she had learned from her mother. “When I said ‘We’re coming with you,’ it was not meant to be taken as a request for you to grant or deny. It was a
command
. Ignore it at peril to your position and your life.”

Sergius stared at her, and the room was utterly still. No one even dared to breathe. “I do believe, princess,” he said slowly, his lips curling up into a smile that never reached his eyes, “that you mean that.”

“Do not doubt it for a moment.” As Sergius considered her words in silence, she went on, “I have no interest in commandeering your troops or endangering your mission, general. I give you my solemn word on that, and promise to obey Centurion Tullius in all things if battle is joined, both for my own safety and to ensure you enjoy complete freedom to lead your men as you would.” She leaned forward, just slightly. “But I
will
be going with you tomorrow.”

With a heavy sigh, Sergius waved over a slave to refill his goblet and the one Valeria was clinging to with a white knuckled grip. With a bright smile, he held up his goblet in salute. “I am your humble servant, Princess Valeria, and your wish is my command.”

***

The rest of the dinner was conducted, as Sergius had indicated at the beginning, as more of a pre-deployment staff meeting than a social occasion. The general was outwardly gracious and courteous to his guests, but Valeria could sense that it was an act put on for her benefit after she had put him on the spot.

When she could take no more, she politely excused herself, and she and her small retinue, followed by Hercules, from whom everyone else shrank away in poorly disguised fear, followed the young officer General Sergius had detailed to show the princess to her quarters for the evening.
 

“Other rooms have been prepared for your companions,” the officer informed her.
 

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied after quickly surveying the palatial suite. “There is quite enough room here, and my guards always attend me.”