Vulcan's Fury: The Dark Lands (16 page)

“Maybe,” Septimus countered, “but that doesn’t explain giants with two thumbs or bees with a sting that leaves a scar nearly the size of my thumb.”

“No,” Pelonius told him, “but we know the gods willed the birth of creatures such as Hercules just as they destroyed others. Perhaps the gods fashioned the Masters in the same way.”

“That’s not very comforting,” Paulus said quietly. “I don’t claim to know the will of the gods, but what if Vulcan’s Fury wasn’t the end of their wrath?”

That left everyone in an uncomfortable silence. Long held wisdom that had served the Empire over the many centuries since Vulcan’s hammer had struck the world, was that the gods had been wroth with men for having strayed, and that such must never happen again. The ancient pantheon was worshipped with great diligence and devotion, but over time, just as with Old Rome, new gods had begun to win the favor of men’s hearts, and more than one oracle had prophesied that Mankind was courting another, perhaps greater, Doom.
 

Valeria turned to Karan. “You obviously believe in gods, for you said that Hercules is one. Do the Masters have gods, as well?”

Nodding, Karan said, “They have their own. We do not worship them, nor do the Masters speak of them to us, so I do not know their names. But on the way to the Great Arena I have seen the temples erected in honor of those gods, and the blood of animals and those of our kind are given in sacrifice.” He shrugged. “Our own gods are of the world, of sun and sky, of the earth and moon.” He looked up at Hercules, who was still sleeping peacefully. “And of tooth and claw, that our spirits may find their way to the stars above.”

“So how does any of that help us?” Marcus growled, forestalling any more questions.

“It tells me that I’m way overdue in sacrificing a nice goat to Mars,” Septimus muttered.

Pelonius nodded. “Prayer and sacrifice are certainly in order, but the more practical implication is clear, and comes as no surprise to any of us: under no circumstances can we allow the Masters to cross the bridge in numbers. Imagine a legion of such beings as Karan described, backed by equally terrible versions of elephants and war horses.”

“Or worse,” Paulus said. “Just look what a single pack of dark wolves did to us. Who knows what other monstrosities they might be able to unleash on us?”

Marcus looked at Valeria and frowned.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I wish I had sent you back with the couriers,” he told her. “Had I any inkling of just how dangerous it could be for you here, even beyond this business with the dark wolves…”

“My place is here, centurion,” she said. Paulus, beside her, nodded in support. “We must learn and do all that we can to fortify this side of the bridge. Once that is done and we have had time to learn all we may from Karan, we’ll be ready to convince Father that the threat is real. Otherwise…” She laughed, but it was utterly without humor. “Otherwise, neither he nor anyone in the Senate will believe this. How could they? Even if we could capture a dark wolf and put it before the Senate, they will not believe.”

“But they must!” Paulus exclaimed.
 

“Accepting a truth that goes against all reason,” Pelonius explained, “is not something for which Senators are well known. Even if we could produce a living Master to parade before them, they would simply claim he was an aberration, a cruel jest of the gods, a modern day Cacus who stands alone. You know quite well that such jests by the deities, children born with malformed bodies, are not exactly rare. But an entire race of such creatures?” He shook his head. “No. They will not believe.”

“But my father will,” Valeria said with more than a tinge of vehemence.
 

“Yes, he will,” Pelonius agreed, “for which we must all be thankful. But the Emperor’s powers only extend so far. He can deploy the reserve legions here, but cannot move any from the provinces without express permission of the Senate or the soldiers will forfeit their pay.”

Marcus had heard enough. “Well, let’s leave that to the Emperor, shall we? It’s time we got some rest. Tomorrow is going to come early and we’ve a long way to go. Princess, I think we can manage a tent for you from what’s left of the supplies.”

“Thank you, but no, I’d rather stay here by the fire.”

“Suit yourself.” With a sigh, he got to his feet. “I’ve got to make my last rounds. Septimus, you take first watch. The rest of you get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Valeria awoke to the sounds of men shouting orders and curses as the legion began to strike camp in preparation for its march to the sea. Her body felt stiff as a plank, and every muscle ached. With a groan, she managed to prop herself up on her elbows to find Paulus grinning at her.

“About time you woke up,” he said. Handing her a spoon and wooden bowl filled with watery porridge, he added, “Since you didn’t seem too keen on meat, I got this for you from the cooks. It’s not of a quality of anything from your father’s table, but—”

“Who cares?” she interrupted, taking the bowl with a nod of thanks. She was famished, and even the thought of a hunk of meat was appealing. As she lifted the spoon to her mouth, careful to blow on the steaming porridge, her stomach growled loud enough to be heard above the organized bedlam of the camp.
 

“Such a lady,” Septimus quipped from nearby. He stood no more than a silhouette in the gathering twilight of morning.
 

“Oh, hush!” Looking around, she spotted Hercules close by, taking his own breakfast upon one of the dark wolf carcasses. Karan knelt beside him, his head bowed as if in prayer.

“He’s a queer one, he is,” Septimus observed. “And didn’t sleep a wink, either. He told me last night that he sleeps when he walks.”

Valeria paused in her very unladylike slurping of the porridge. “That’s impossible!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Paulus said. More quietly, he added with all seriousness, “I think he may be a demigod sired by Mars.”

“Then we should count ourselves as doubly fortunate,” Pelonius said as he made his way to the fire. He had discarded his ruined tunic and had donned a full soldier’s uniform, which included a helmet that bore a bright red crest of horse hair running front to back.
 

“Pelonius,” Valeria said in a quizzical voice, “you do realize that you’re wearing the uniform and helmet of a tribune.” The rank of senior military tribune was typically second highest among a legion’s officers, answering only to the
legatus
, or commanding general.
 

The older man sighed. “That was my last rank before I left the Army long years ago.”

Valeria gaped. “You were a tribune?”

“I suspect this, too, falls into the category of stories for another time,” Paulus said with unabashed admiration.

“That it does, children,” Pelonius said with a smile. The smile faded. “But now I wear it as temporary legatus.”

“Wait,” Valeria said after a moment. “That means that…you are now in charge of
Invictus
, with Marcus as First Spear?”

Pelonius nodded. “I accepted only with the greatest reluctance, and only because the circumstances are so unusual.” He looked to the east, where the sky was quickly brightening. “Now, finish eating. Marcus will be calling for formation soon.”

“Yes, prefect,” Paulus replied.

With a nod, Pelonius departed to help Marcus get the legion organized.

“One of these days,” Paulus said in a quiet voice, “we’re going to have to corner Pelonius for an entire week and get out of him all these
stories for another time
.”

Valeria snorted. “I wish you luck.” Nodding toward Karan, she added, “Do you know if he had anything to eat?”

Paulus shook his head. “No, he was already over there with Hercules when I woke up, and I didn’t want to interrupt his prayers, assuming that’s what he’s doing.”

Taking Paulus’s dagger in hand, she carved off a hunk of meat from the dark wolf they had cooked last night. “Come on, let’s go talk to him before formation.”
 

Together, they went to where Karan was kneeling beside Hercules. As they drew closer, they heard him whispering something, but Valeria couldn’t make out the words. After a moment, he looked up and smoothly got to his feet. With a bow of his head, he said, “Greetings princess, Paulus.”

“Good morning, Karan,” Valeria said. She held out the roasted meat. “We didn’t know if you’d eaten, so we brought you something.”

“I have already eaten, but my thanks.” He took the meat. “I will keep it, for no doubt we will need it later.”

“I don’t mean to intrude,” she went on, “but were you praying just now?”

“Yes, of course,” Karan answered. “I will pray each day to Hercules, that he may bring us good fortune in battle and a worthy death.”

“Karan…” She glanced at Paulus, who shrugged. “Hercules is only an animal, not a god. You do realize that, don’t you?”

With a smile, Karan said, “You worship many gods, do you not?” Valeria and Paulus both nodded. “Have you ever seen any of them?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Have they spoken to you in words you could hear or visions you could see with your eyes?”

“No, but…”

“But we have faith,” Paulus interjected. “We
must
have faith, or the world may again suffer as it did under Vulcan’s Fury.”

“I think I can understand your faith in invisible gods,” Karan said as he leaned forward and scratched Hercules behind one ear, eliciting a rumbling purr from the great beast. “But I can touch my gods, I can see them. When they speak to me, I hear, even if I might not understand their words. I can know their pleasure and their wrath. I know his body is mortal, but his spirit is everlasting among the stars. And I need only look into his eyes to sense his power, or hear his roar to understand his glory or his fury.” Turning back to Valeria and Paulus, he said, “I think your gods are for those who have hopes of living beyond the next moment. Perhaps the lives of my own people are too brief to comprehend anything more.”

Before Valeria or Paulus could say anything else, the sound of the horns cut through the air, calling for the legion to fall into formation.

“Time to rejoin the others,” Paulus said.

“Hercules,” Valeria said, “come.”

Tearing one last hunk from the carcass, Hercules did as she bade and fell into step behind them, noisily munching away, as they returned to where the survivors of
Legio Invictus
were forming ranks.
 

***

Valeria didn’t understand the true extent of the legion’s losses until she saw the soldiers standing in formation across the bloody battlefield in the gathering morning light. Of the six cohorts, nearly three thousand men, that had sallied from Augusta Viromanduorum, three cohorts remained. Through the night, Marcus and Pelonius had consolidated and reorganized the tattered centuries into three full strength cohorts, each with an additional century of eighty walking wounded. When they set off for the sea, they would be leaving behind over eleven hundred dead who had been hastily buried in shallow mass graves. It had been a grievous defeat, the worst ever suffered by
Invictus
, and one of the worst suffered in battle by any legion in recent history.
 

But as she stood beside Pelonius, Paulus (who was now acting as the legion’s senior tribune), and Marcus in the bed of a supply cart that had been pressed into service as a command platform, she saw neither fear nor defeat in the eyes of the battered and bloodied men who faced her, standing at stiff attention. If anything, they stood taller, swelled with pride.
 

As the sun crested the trees, its rays were reflected by the legion’s golden eagle, which was held high by the standard bearer beside the platform.
 

“
Princess Valeria!
”

She gave a start as Pelonius called her name in a booming voice that she never would have imagined the otherwise soft spoken man was capable of. Not sure what she was supposed to do, she took a small step forward and turned her head toward him.

“The men of
Legio Invictus
, in honor of your company, your exploits in battle and in helping to save the lives of many who stand before you, and to honor Hercules, your companion, who turned the tide of the battle, present you with a humble gift.”

One of the senior signifers stepped forward and raised a standard that had been carefully shielded from her sight behind a banner at the front of the First Cohort. As the signifer marched forward with great dignity, she saw that atop the staff was an amazing likeness of Hercules standing upon his rear four feet, his front paws clawing the air, his jaws open in a fierce roar. The standard must have been carved from wood by one of the legionaries during the night, then coated with gold, no doubt from precious coin the men had donated for the task. Below the golden likeness of Hercules hung a rectangular red flag that bore her name in gilded letters. The signifer came to stand at attention directly before her.

Her skin broke out into gooseflesh as a pleasant jolt of electricity ran through her at the sight, and she felt the sting of tears welling in her eyes. She had to pause, clearing her throat, before she could bring herself to speak. “Courageous men of
Invictus
,” she called, willing her voice to be strong, and knowing it carried more pride than she had ever known, “you humble me with such an honor. On behalf of myself, my companion Hercules, and my father Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus, Emperor of Rome, do I gratefully accept it.”

As if he could understand what she had said, Hercules let out a roar that sparked a cheer from the men.
 

Marcus stepped forward. Drawing his sword, he thrust it into the air as the signifer holding the hexatiger’s likeness did a smart about-face toward the assembled men. “
Hercules!
” Marcus shouted.
 

“Hercules!
” the men cried with great gusto. “
Hercules! Hercules!
”
 

Then Marcus shouted even louder, “
Valeria!
”

The men matched his challenge. Raising their voices even more, they cried, “
Valeria! Valeria! VALERIA!
”