Ruin and Rebirth Read online

  Yesterday however, they had been forced to travel by road because the woods on either side had slowed their pace down, almost to a stop. After an hour, they had heard horses coming up fast behind them. The party had dropped off the road and watched as six riders, dressed in rough tunics had ridden past.

  The party had thought no more about it, just another band of survivors, like themselves. They had seen other groups on the road over the previous weeks, and so they had continued in the wake of the riders. It was after a further mile that the sound of hooves had returned.

  Vitus still might not have realised they were in danger, were it not for the shout of the lead rider.

  “There they are!” the rider yelled, raising a long, rough looking blade.

  “Quickly, into the trees!” Vitus instructed his friends. The forest would slow the horses and give the party a chance of escape.

  With the speed only a trained archer could hope to achieve Vitus whipped his bow of his back and had an arrow on the string. He didn’t take time to aim, the men were moving too much and six riders was a large target. The lead rider fell, a shaft buried deep in his shoulder, he rolled onto the road and by a miracle wasn’t trampled by the following horses.

  The next arrow drove itself deep into a second rider’s face. He released his grip and clutched at the iron tipped agony that had destroyed his cheek and nose. He fell sideways as he groped for the arrow and his distress was ended by a flying hoof that split his head as it kicked him on his way to the ground.

  Vitus didn’t have time for a third shot and instead fled in the direction that his friends had gone. He saw Regulus being helped along by Lucia, they entering a deep thicket of bushes, and Vitus followed. As he rounded the scrub and disappeared from the riders sight, he heard the first horse crash through the young trees on the edge of the woods.

  Vitus stopped moving, hearing his breath loud in his ears, sure that the men must hear him. He listened to them moving around, clearly unsure where to look and obviously weary of his bow.

  “You won’t get far. We want your bows and swords.” The speaker paused then added, “we want your women too. We won’t be going back until we have them.” His voice was rough and excited.

  Vitus said nothing, concentrating on remaining silent. It had been little Tulius who had gave them away. When had a child ever known the correct time to keep quiet? He let out a small cry and the men on the horses started in surprise.

  “Run!” Vitus shouted and the party began to head deeper into the forest. He stepped out from the cover and loosed a third arrow. This time he didn’t aim at a rider but took one of the horses in the flesh where the neck met its shoulder. The animal reared up, its rider clinging on to its mane and crying out in shock. The mounts around the wounded beast snorted and began to jostle each other, panicked by one of their number being in pain. Vitus took the opportunity to run.

  The riders did not follow them into the forest and that should have made Vitus stop and think for a moment. In the relief of escaping the pursuit, however, he didn’t pay too much mind to a little good fortune.

  The party had made their way through the forest, with brambles tearing at their clothes and the ground under foot getting softer and wetter as they moved further towards the centre. The canopy of trees was thick enough over head to block out the sunlight and make them unsure of their footing in the dark.

  Eventually they had seen light through a break in the trees up ahead. Everyone had breathed a silent sigh of relief at being out of this claustrophobic thicket, and huddled on the edge of the forest whilst checking the surrounding area.

  Vitus reflected later that the riders were cleverer than he had initially thought. They obviously had the advantage of local knowledge and had used it well. Instead of pursuing the group through the forest, forcing them to leave their horses and pursue on foot, risking loosing more men, they had allowed their quarry to do the hard work, simply circling round to attack them as they left the cover of the trees. They didn’t even attack straight away, they had waited until Vitus and his friends were far enough from the trees that they could not retreat. Vitus had heard no shout this time, instead when they were about a quarter of a mile from the edge of the forest he had heard the sound of hooves.

  They had been getting close to the crest of a low hill and Vitus had turned to see a dozen riders bearing down on him and his friends. He had shouted a warning, but by the time he did, nobody needed to be told to run. Vitus had sprinted to the top of the hill and turned, allowing his friends to run past him while he loosed a couple of arrows. Two riders had fallen, the second had rolled sideways off his saddle and tangled himself in the hooves of the horse behind. This still left ten riders and Vitus felt despair grip him.

  At that moment there had been a call from Garic. To the parties left was a group of Risen, more numerous than either Vitus’ band or the pursuing raiders. The chase had turned away from the Risen, and that was when Regulus had spotted the farmhouse low down in the valley at the bottom for the hill.

  Vitus had caught up with his friends and they had started a desperate escape from the undead. He turned half way down the hill and saw the riders almost ride straight into the undead as they crested the rise.

  The horses had panicked at being so close to the undead. One horse had reared up and thrown its rider to the ground. The unfortunate man was enveloped by a mass of writhing bodies and his screams carried far down the hillside.

  The Risen had momentarily taken their attention off Vitus’ band and this had given them the space they needed to reach safety. It had been a fighting retreat in the end, as the Risen were fast when they had prey in sight. It was thanks to luck and the gods that they had all arrived without harm.

  Now, in the light of the early morning the friends had to decide how to deal with the new threat.

  “We can’t trust that they will be too far away,” Hakor said. “You saw how well they used the land yesterday, the way they came on us as we left the forest. They obviously want us.”

  “What for, though? They said they wanted our weapons, but that was a lot of men to lose, just for a couple of bows and blades,” Vitus said.

  “They also said they wanted the women,” Garic interjected. “Hopefully, we can make that work to our advantage. If they don’t want us dead then we should be able to keep them at bay a little easier. Vitus made them pay yesterday, they won’t like that but it might just put them off as well.”

  Regulus stepped out of the back room as they were talking, he was rubbing at his eyes, but he looked like he might not have slept at all. He shuffled across the room, to the dusty water jug in the corner, tipping a little into his hand and swilling it around his mouth. He rolled his shoulder to loosen his sleep tightened muscles then he walked over the where Lucia stood in the corner putting his arms around her neck, and she kissed him lightly on the lips.

  “Bad night again?” Lucia asked, she kissed him on the lips again, eliciting a giggle from Lee who was sitting against one wall. Vitus smiled and rubbed the young boys head affectionately.

  “They always are at the moment,” Regulus answered.

  “More bad dreams?” Hakor asked Regulus, who nodded.

  “Every night,” Regulus answered dismissively. He would not elaborate, it was his own business. Everybody in the group knew that they were heading to Germania but only Lucia and Vitus knew the reason for their return.

  The dark pines forests, the hut and the black glass temple lay ahead, but not for all of them. Regulus felt sure that as they got closer, he would find himself alone. Viddus, the old man from his visions - the god, if the priest in Rome was to be believed - had told him as much. Regulus was sure that the old man was goading him, trying to make him give up his quest, but the idea that his friends would face the horror of the temple stopped him from listening to the old goat.

  If he thought for one moment, that he was leading these people to an inevitable death, he would leave them behind without another word. He needed some
of them, friends on which he could lean, but he would spare them the pain of what was to come.

  Nothing he had seen in his visions told him that there was anything but suffering to come. He felt the power of the temple, not drawing him to it, but pushing against him. As he drew nearer his goal, even at this distance, he could feel a presence. An intelligent force, fighting his attempt to gain access to the temple. It was all the proof he needed that he was heading in the right direction.

  He called them visions but he knew they were more than that, he had been in the temple, he had seen the forest and hut with his own eyes. If he had more power of his own, he might not need to travel to Germania at all. If he had a mentor to teach him how to use whatever it was that flowed through him, he might be able to do what was required of him, from a distance.

  He knew he was more powerful, as his body faded the force inside him grew. Every time he spoke to Viddus, he could see it in the old man’s face, hear it his voice. When he had first found himself in the temple, he had been weak and at the mercy of Viddus. Now, when the old man tried to attack him with sounds and visions, Regulus could control his reactions, even if he was powerless to fight back. It was something, he just had to hope that in the time to come, it would be enough.

  Regulus was shaken out of his reverie by Vitus, he was telling Gallus and Tatius to check the area around the farmhouse for enemies of both the living and undead kind. The two legionaries slipped out of the door, swords in hand and Lucia locked it behind them. The rest of the group busied themselves, preparing for the day. Atia fed Tulius from the food in her pack, the young boy was happy enough with two day old meat.

  Hakor checked and double checked his equipment, he was a good man and Regulus had grown to like and trust him. In a lot of ways he was reminded the young archer of Antonius, lost in Mutina during what seemed like another life. Antonius had been a little quicker to anger and a better fighter than the big ex-slave but they had the same dependable strength.

  Regulus used to tell Antonius that he reminded him of a big dog, the ones that were so large that they never had to show their teeth. Smaller dogs would bark and growl, making themselves look stronger than they were. Bigger dogs didn’t feel like they had to, and that had been Antonius. Regulus didn’t know Hakor well enough to tell him something like that, but he gave the same impression.

  Regulus missed Antonius. He had been a good friend, he completed the triangle with Vitus and himself. Now the two remaining friends were a little more distant because they didn’t have the third side to join them together.

  Some of it was the fact that Vitus had been promoted before they left Germania. The rank and file archer had suddenly had a great weight of responsibility to carry. More than that, Regulus’ injury had made him more insular and less likely to seek out his friend’s company. He knew that but couldn’t help how he felt. The journey had made them closer than they had been in Rome. The closeness of life on the road had pushed them back together again but Regulus was still struggling to find the part of himself that had been lost to his injury.

  Maybe he was exactly who he was supposed to be now. Life sometimes gave a person what they needed, even if they didn’t know it at the time.

  The door opened and the two men re-entered the farmhouse.

  “Looking good out there, sir,” Gallus reported to Vitus. Despite the time on the road, the two legionaries had never dropped the formalities of military life. To them Vitus was their centurion, he wore little of his uniform on the road and did not call himself centurion but they treated him exactly the same. It gave both men a sense of the order of things and Regulus could understand that.

  “Excellent, unless anyone needs longer, I say we get out of here as soon as we can gather our things,” Vitus said to the room at large. There was a round of nodded heads and muttered agreement, as morning still lay heavy in some of their eyes.

  Another day on the road beckoned, their were miles to cover and enemies to avoid or kill. The dead would hunt them and now they would keep an eye out for the living also. The Alps had started to show themselves on the horizon and those miles would be harder still. Beyond was the straight road through to their destination, but that was all ahead of them. For now they would watch their backs and watch the road as it passed under their feet. They all had their own reason for being there, duty, friendship or love. They were not tied together, but they clung to each other, at least for now.

  Chapter Four

  Otho waited patiently for the gates of the camp to open. He could hear Ursus beside him, muttering curses under his breath at the guards. The man had little patience for the pomp and ceremony of such occasions.

  His men were immaculately turned out in the early morning sun with bright light catching all that polished metal, making them an impressive sight. The hours it must have taken to prepare themselves for this moment, after weeks at sea, meant nothing to Otho. The life of a legionary was one of overcoming tiredness in order to do what was necessary. There was always room for one more lesson in discipline.

  Eventually, just as the wait was beginning to grate on Otho, the gates opened. The century of men moved into the camp with him at their head. A man just as imposing as the emperor stepped forward and saluted. He was a head taller and a good few inches broader in the shoulders, and every inch the picture of Roman superiority. If a stranger was asked to name the emperor out of the two of them, they would almost certainly not pick Otho. The man was also a friend.

  “Hail, Caesar!” Legate Numarius said with a broad smile widening his handsome face.

  “Numarius my friend, it is good to see you after all these years,” Otho said, holding out a hand and taking Numarius in the legionary grip.

  “Too long, Caesar,” Numarius answered, his eyes drifting to Ursus. He knew who he was, but would wait for a formal introduction.

  “Numarius, meet my right hand, Ursus,” Otho said and waited while the two men shook hands and nodded their greetings.

  “I’m sorry for the delay in opening the gates, Caesar. You know how these junior officers like to play at the formal side of soldiering. I’m afraid they are under the impression that you will give some sort of speech to the men.” As he spoke Numarius gave a small wave of his hand toward the massed ranks of the legions behind him.

  Otho noted that most of the tents had been cleared away to give the camp the appearance of a military parade ground. Men would spend the following hours rebuilding the camp to the exact standard it had been first thing this morning, and all to put on an unnecessary show.

  “I don’t see that being too much of a problem, Numarius. I trust we have some of the local wine on hand to quench my parched throat afterward?” Otho joked and both Numarius and Ursus laughed dutifully.

  “The finest, Caesar,” Numarius said, turning toward a makeshift rostrum that faced the ranks of men.

  Otho took a deep breath. He hadn’t prepared himself for a speech. Usually a junior aide or officer would remind him of such duties, maybe even passing him one to learn a couple of hours before the actual event. Now he would just have to say a few words and get the formalities over with.

  Otho stepped on to the platform and was suddenly overwhelmed by the sight of the men before him. He looked out across the ranks, their armour polished in his honour. Each man a story of courage, of a misspent youth, a family left at home. Every face before him was Rome at her finest. They were not the brightest minds, or the most honest of men, they did not do what they did for the love of a city most of them had never seen. They did what they did for duty, for honour, for the man next to them, and for the glory of their legion. It was pure and it was right. The people of Rome did not love these men, they were a necessary evil to most. They sat at home, safe with their families because of men like these, or at least they had until the undead had come.

  “Rome is gone,” he said, almost before he knew he would say it. The men before him spoke no word but the shuffling of feet and subtle shifting of eyes was enough to show Oth
o they were shocked at his words.

  “Rome is gone, and the undead have taken her from us. The vilest creatures that have ever walked the earth have torn our city from our hands. Many men died, trying to defend her, even Titus was not strong enough to help me to keep her from their grasp.”

  Otho looked out at the crowd as he spoke these words and saw the effect he was having on the men. Good, let them understand what had gone before. Let them see how strong the enemy could be.

  “There is little hope left for the empire, little life left to fight back against the undead.”

  Again there was the subtle shifting of gazes, the movement of feet in men that could stand for hours if required.

  “I say little hope, but I do not mean that there is no hope,” Otho paused, feeling the weight of the gazes upon him. “I see hope before me. I see salvation in your ranks. I see the men who can change the world, who can save the world from these creatures.” Otho paused again, the mood of the crowd was changing with his words and he wanted to give the words time to spread to the rear ranks, where his voice might not be have been heard.

  “I have seen the force of the Risen and it is strong, but I see men before me that will take that strength and crush it. I see the best of the legions in your ranks. You are the best hope of men in this fight with the undead, and I know you will win.” Otho raised his voice, almost shouting the last line. The men of the legions responded with a roar, raising their voices in response to his confident words.

  The emperor wasted no time basking in their cheering, but stepped down off the makeshift stage, nodding to Numarius as he did. They were joined by Ursus, and the three men made their way across the camp, walking between the ranks of men toward the legate’s tent. As they reached the entrance Otho heard the order to stand down being issued to the men, and spared them a brief thought as they immediately began to re-build the camp.