CHAPTER VINear sunset, Porcius had mounted his steed, and rode along with two others as they did a patrol. They rode to the stone circle they’d visited before, but found no one about. Porcius rode alone over to the lip of the forest, to where they’d seen the altar and where the Picts had died. After a few moments of looking for the slain men, Porcius turned back.“Huh, not a fly, nothing.”“What lies beyond these woods, down about the side of this great leg of the forest?” one asked Porcius.He sipped from his wine flask and shrugged. “I’ve been wondering the same thing, Severus, but I really don’t want to be caught there after dark. I figure when the Legion marches as one, we’ll discover it together, aye?”The two exchanged a glance before Severus stated, “You must not comprehend the purpose of recon and patrol?”After a swig, Porcius replied, “I understand just fine, but getting my ass killed for foolish curiosity isn’t in the handbook, is it?”Severus said smartly, “We’ll ri
CHAPTER VIIPorcius charged into the forest, still in pursuit of Tavia. The white furred thing wouldn’t be tough to track, he wagered. The beast bounced off this tree and that, breaking branches and swiping things aside. Porcius kept at them, quickly following the path laid in its wake.His mind spun at how he’d kill the thing, but Porcius felt confident he could as he dodged the wiry trees about him. In his mind Porcius traced out a plan on how he’d do it, too. His plans seldom played out perfectly in real battle, and this was against a monster. Of course, Porcius reasoned, he could just run like hell and let the demons take that girl. Still, he had not once shrunk from a fight, as a kid, as an adult, as a slave or a soldier.But it breathed, it bled, he’d cut its fool ear off. That gave him confidence. He knew they could perish, and he hungered to take its life.Of course, that thing his teacher called cowardice lurked in the rear of his head, telling him to just go on, run away
CHAPTER VIIIRufus sat on General Malitus’ folding chair, inside the Roman’s tent. The commander didn’t need it at the moment. His frenzy of movement ran, too busy outside trying to direct which of his men of the veteran caste died next. The boy thought of the tent around him, made of a canvas fabric foreign to Britannia, or at least it was before these red crested pricks showed up. They changed most things with their arrival. Even the trails from town to town had rougher, flatter surfaces . . . better to wheel their cargoes of death with. This was called progress and civilization to them. In all of their technical brilliance, they marveled at the stone henges and couldn’t fathom how such primitives transported the slabs without good roads. Such was their folly.He pondered the simple tents of his people, ones they used on hunting trips or camped in after quickly fought battles. They were of the earth, hides mostly, common and warm, sewn to perfection by nimble fingers. These tents f
CHAPTER IXAt the crest of the valley, the eyes of Tancorix looked over the many tribes of Pictdom. So numerous were the men and women that arrived she couldn’t count their numbers. All of them came to the fight, but they celebrated all the way. At the periphery of the great forest of Syn, at the edge of the enormous plain of Kassidee, thousands of them amassed, sharing mirth.Tancorix stayed back in the dim forest, seated on fallen logs, but let herself be seen many times by the multitude.“It’s good to be seen by them all, but in small numbers. Let their wonder wrap about their minds.”Tancorix heard and understood the words of Weaver, her wizardess of the wood. She read wisdom in her words, but made a curious observation over the diminutive assistant to Weaver, Ragala, and wondered if the elder was wise enough in her ways to comprehend the younger lass wanted her elder’s place. Then again, Tancorix mused, that was the natural order of the wood.Quite a few chiefs of the Pict tr
CHAPTER XAugust, Flavius and the dozen other soldiers entered the Fogou, armed and trying to act like they were ready for what lay below. Each wore stern faces of courage and honor, but these faded as the darkness crept in near. Again, the anomalous green veins of light in the narrow cavern provided sufficient light, even if the men brought torches to be struck when they reached the burial chamber. Not used to the green glow like August had become, many murmured their fears and tried to screw down their courage.While Flavius served as a capable enough soldier, August wished that Porcius was at his side instead. Although Porcius would never fit into these narrow tunnels.The smell of death and decay almost overpowered August, but no one else seemed to react to it. Though his stomach churned, August held on to his meagre rations. Did he imagine it? August and the others reached the breach in the tunnel and he instructed all of the men to hug the wall as they headed left.The very a
CHAPTER XI“Back!” August yelled, not caring a wit if anyone or thing heard him.From over the stone lip of that cavern, one of the Greymen leapt, bounding like an acrobat toward them, as if summoned.August didn’t need to tell the archers to fire, for they drew back and pegged the Greyman twice, a shaft in his right thigh and another in his belly that burrowed deep into the flesh. Feeling the moment of his death at hand, August faced the wounded, furious Greyman. Blood pounded in his ears. He charged forward, a move the bloodied Greyman didn’t expect.Flavius didn’t expect August to turn and charge back, either. He cried out, afraid at the loss of the strong cavalry man. However, he didn’t run after August.August threw himself, rolled over, and swiped across at a low angle like a legless gladiator toward the Greyman’s calves.The creature pivoted on the wounded limb, but that didn’t make the gladius cut toward him any different. August’s wedge dug in deep and struck bone hard.
CHAPTER XIIAugust awoke clutching fistfuls of grass. It felt good being where grass grew tall and wild. His heart thumped fast, as he thought himself free, dragged from the cave of the beastmen and ready to run wild again. He looked up, pining for the oaks of the area of Caledonia where they had invaded, but instead saw tall fir trees, some with fire dripping from the branches.This reality he perceived couldn’t be so. Sadness held him tight and poured across his body, as thick as honey. He thought himself dead with . . . but no . . . this was not to be. Shouldn’t heaven look like home? Just by the trees, the time of year of his vision, closer to full harvest like September not the end of July . . . and the river basin of Ems, which can only be found in Germania in the Teutoburg forest.Yes, the Romans lost three Legions at that famous battle in Teutoburg forest, and the pitch falling from the fir trees dropped as leftovers from a volley of flaming missiles. However, August couldn’
CHAPTER XIIIPorcius stood not far from Quintus and the twins, still stunned from their entry into the underworld they currently inhabited. He remembered taking the point after Severus’ death, going down with Quintus at his back into the cavern. His mind reeled at seeing the two reptiles behind stone bars. He shivered at that memory. He’d seen crazy animals from the African continent, but those things they left behind on their way down were incomprehensible. Like the beastmen, those were something spewed from the doors of nightmares or the realms of real demons. He did note the five sided star on each set of bars, and recognized that symbol as one used by the tribes in Britannia. What perplexed him was the crooked cross over the pentagram, and what that power implied. Some symbols were older than man, or things dealt with ones not from here, be they gods, devils or men of a different epoch.But they’d had little time to ponder these things or sights, nor see farther into the inner ch