Empire Of The Undead (11 page)

CHAPTER XIII

Dacia: 88 CE, Winter

Zuste and Rowanna had been in the Roman camp for a week when the Consul arrived. Zuste had spoken of leaving, of searching for Decabalus, but each day had seen greater attacks from the lifeless. So far, the efficiency of the Romans was enough to counter the undead menace. So far. It was strange for both of them, and their new appreciation and dependency on those who had done such harm to them. They hadn’t seen much of Iullianus the last few days. The Roman commander had duties aplenty, but he allowed them free reign of the camp. Zuste spent his time eating and drinking with the soldiers at the cook fires. He made lists of ingredients and heavily armed soldiers went out in careful groups. A blacksmith worked on making the equipment that he would need. He had everything he needed save for the elusive chaga, a fungus that grew on dying trees.

The Dacians shared meals, but Rowanna otherwise spent long hours of each day in the elephant enclosure. The great beasts were growing used to her presence and would let her walk up to them and scratch their foreheads or their sides. Her ankle was healing and she only slightly limped when she walked without the crutch.

They had just finished their midday meal when they saw the Consul. He was an aged man, haughty, face filled with an expression that Zuste took an instant dislike to. The man reminded him of the cocky soldiers that had plagued his home for so long.

The Consul had not been in the commander’s tent for long when shouting sounded. Zuste looked at Rowanna pointedly.

“Iullianus is not a man to suffer fools,” he said with satisfaction.

She said nothing, but her expression showed concern. Zuste realized that she was worried.

“You think this man’s arrival could be bad?” he asked, idly chewing on his thumbnail.

“I don’t know,” she said softly, “but I can’t see that it will make things any better for us.”

“You may be right,” Zuste said. “Did Iullianus not say he had orders to attack Dacia?  A messenger from Rome could be bad indeed.”

“We should leave, and leave now,” Rowanna said.

“Outside the camp, we are dead,” Zuste reminded her. “Here, we have a chance of survival. And I am close to having the necessary equipment to making more elixir.”

“You are the one who hates the Romans,” she said.

Before he could answer, a centurion marched up to them, as rigid and formal as could be.

“You are summoned to speak before the Legatus,” the Roman said.

Both the Dacians rose, but the Roman snapped, “Not you. Him.”  He didn’t even look at Rowanna. His gaze remained straight ahead. She sat back down in surprise.

“I shall get some answers, at least,” Zuste said to the still-frowning woman. “Stay here and I’ll return shortly.”

Zuste followed the man into Iullianus’ tent. The Consul was standing, his white hair still wet from the ride. He glared in the direction of the Dacian man but did not stop talking to Iullianus, who was seated with an infuriatingly mild look on his face.

“You cannot do such a thing. Your whim is subject to Caesar,” the Consul said.

Iullianus remained calm. “Caesar is not here. He knows not what we face. Were he, he would march his Imperial arse right back to Rome, same as I.”

The Consul narrowed his eyes. “You are refusing a direct order."

"Consent makes the law," Iullianus said.

"I can imprison you. You could be killed. You should be killed.”

“I met Domitian once, before he was Emperor. He seemed a reasonable man. I think he’ll appreciate me returning a full legion to him. Maybe he’ll make me rich. Maybe he’ll name me his heir.”

“This is outrageous. I repeat, you are ordered to advance further into Dacia.”

"I will not."

"You are not a real legate. You're not even a Senator!"

"I am a warrior."

"You are a coward!"

Iullianus looked to the alchemist. “Zuste, let me introduce you to Sextus Iulius Sparsus, Consul of Rome. The sole surviving Consul, it appears. Consul, this is Zuste of Dacia.”

The man barely deigned to notice Zuste.

“Zuste, he wants me to invade Dacia. Please tell him why that is not a good idea.”

The Dacian man bit his lip. He had no wish to be dragged into this debate, but he spoke. “It’s not safe, not for a man, not for an army of men. The lifeless are everywhere.”

Sparsus sneered. “Why do you confront me with this barbarian’s opinion as if it were something that mattered?  I never thought I’d live to see the Legion X Fretensis refuse to face danger. I shall return to Rome and report your cowardice. You never should have been named commander, anyway. Without your friend, Lepidus, pulling strings, you’d have been killed long ago. He is lucky that he died, rather than live to see the mockery you’ve made of his legion.”

Iullianus stood. He seemed to tower over the Roman man. “I did not ask Lepidus for command of his army. I was as surprised as you no doubt were, but I am doing everything I can not to lose it. I am no Fuscus, and my legion will survive or I will die seeing it so.”

Sparsus sneered. “What threat is there to excuse such cowardice?”

“Have you seen one?” Iullianus asked. His voice was dangerously soft.

The Consul blinked. “What?”

“Have you seen one?  One of these shambling creatures, have you seen one?”

“I’ve ridden past many of them. They are far too slow to offer menace to a man on horseback. And that’s hardly the point—”

“That’s exactly the point, Consul Sparsus,” Iullianus said. “I propose to you that we go hunt one. You and I. You can take a good look at one, and afterwards, if you still feel the same you can lead my legion.”

The Consul narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “It would be better for you to do as you're told. The orders are of the Emperor Domitian,” Sparsus reminded.

Zuste heard a distant noise, but it was gone before he could place it.

“Then I order you to observe one of these creatures. On foot. Then you can judge the wisdom of my decision.”

Sparsus nearly spluttered with outrage. “You’ve been too long away from Rome. You can’t order me to do anything, Tettius Iullianus.”

“I’ve got an army that says otherwise. Wouldn’t you agree, alchemist?”

Zuste said nothing. He could hear, from afar, shouting. Then, deafeningly closer, came the roaring of the elephants. Seconds later, the blasting of trumpets sounded. It was strange for him to hear the trumpets and not feel fear; this was the sound of an ally

“What is happening?  Why are your men sounding the alarm?” Sparsus asked.

Iullianus smiled wickedly. “You don’t have to go very far at all to fight one of these monsters after all. Grab your sword and come with me!”

The big red-haired man sprinted from his tent. Zuste did not even look to see if the Consul was following before he ran out to Rowanna.

She was alone at the cook fire, and the legionaries had answered the alarm call. The large spear she always carried was in her hand. “What happened?” she asked as Zuste reached her. The big man was out of breath and he took a few moments to answer.

“Iullianus told the man they would fight the lifeless. Then they attacked. That Consul is a real bastard.”

“Zuste, there’s something wrong,” Rowanna said. Her eyes were pleading with him. “This isn’t just another attack.”

“The lifeless attack several times a day. They haven’t even reached the camp yet.”

“I know. I know. I’m being irrational, but the elephants were spooked today, and they screamed just now. You must have heard it. They haven’t been alarmed like that before.”

Her voice was strangely tight and Zuste realized that she was trying to keep the fear from conquering her. That made his blood run cold. Rowanna was far braver than he was, and she had been his protector on their journey here.

“Let’s go see those loud, stinking beasts then. No, not the Romans—the elephants,” he said to her, the joke weak even to his ears. She smiled absently as they left.

The camp was eerily empty. The sounds of war cries and the screams of the injured could be heard from everywhere around them, but they saw no other living souls as they made their way to the elephant enclosure. Even the large watchtower at the center of camp, usually manned by several men at all hours, was curiously empty.

  “You were correct. The watchmen should still be there,” Zuste said. “There’s something strange going on. This is no common attack.”

Rowanna nodded wordlessly.

They reached the enclosure and nodded at the handlers. The great beasts were nervous—some paced with thunderous steps, others swayed to unheard music. There was no sign of the lifeless.

“Can they swim?” Rowanna asked, eying the stream that provided drinking water.

“The elephants?”

“The lifeless.”

“I don’t think so,” Zuste said. “Fresh, running water is bane to evil creatures of all sorts. That is a fact of science, and I don’t think that water is deep enough for swimming.”

Rowanna sighed. “I have the oddest feeling. Let’s return to the main camp.”

They had reached the gate again when Iullianus rushed in. His hair was wild and his left shoulder leaked a dull-brown blood.

When he registered them, he smiled broadly. “I think we might all have a rather big problem on our hands,” he said cheerfully. “It’s probably best if you stay in here—the camp has been overrun.”

“The lifeless,” Zuste said, “did they get you?”

Iullianus laughed. “No, this was a present from a certain Consul who objected when I ran my sword into his stomach. That ancient bugger was faster than I expected.”

He scratched at his wet hair. “Please stay out of the way. If this doesn’t work, run away, into the mountains or into the forests, as far as you can.”

“If what doesn’t work?” Rowanna asked.

The red-haired Roman was already on the move. He climbed up an elephant, looking as agile as a monkey, where he yelled and several of his soldiers followed suite. Iullianus waved to Zuste and Rowanna, who had moved back well away from the gate, and then his elephant plodded forward.

"It's good," he yelled, "to be the
Elephantarch."

Within moments, a score of war elephants were charging after him.

“That,” said Zuste, his voice slightly awe-stricken, “that is not the least impressive thing I have ever seen.”  The enclosure was resoundingly empty—except for the Dacians, all others had left.

“We need to see the battle,” Rowanna said. “If the Romans are overrun, we need to know.”

Zuste nodded. “A sound idea. We can climb the watchtower back toward camp, but be careful. I don’t want to have to save you if we see any of those monsters.”

Rowanna laughed. “Believe me, alchemist, I don’t want you to have to save me either. Come on, let’s go.”

Zuste hefted his spear in a parody of the Romans. “It’s heavier than I thought,” he said, as they passed through the gates.

“It’s not heavy,” Rowanna said. “You’re just fat and out of shape.”  Her voice trailed off as they came into view of the camp. Ash-grey smoke billowed into the wet sky before them. The roaring of elephants, the shouting of men, the groaning of the undead, these sounds assailed them all at once. Without speaking, they both began running.

The sentry tower remained deserted. Rowanna reached the ladder first and had climbed all the way up before Zuste reached the tower. By the time he had laboriously clambered up the ladder, Rowanna was smiling.

“All is well,” she whispered. “I think all is well.”  Zuste looked east, toward the main part of the camp.

It took Zuste a few moments to realize what he was seeing. The camp perimeter had been overrun. So many of the lifeless had been impaled on the spikes that, eventually, others of them had climbed over their bodies. Now there was a horde of lifeless in the camp. Many were—or had been—Roman, their uniforms hanging in tatters, but most were wearing the furs and leathers of Dacians. So many of us lost, Zuste thought.

The living Romans had formed ranks with large gaps between them. It was through these gaps that the elephants charged. The mighty beasts were charging now, running at a speed that seemed impossible for creatures so big.

“You could learn something from them,” Rowanna said, smiling.

“Let me catch my breath from that sprint, and I’ll thrash you,” Zuste said.

The elephants hit the line of lifeless and the monsters died in droves. Most were stamped into jelly beneath their heavy feet. Others were lanced by tusks, stabbed by the elephant riders or shot with arrows from the waiting Roman soldiers.

Rowanna began laughing with relief and Zuste chuckled beside her. “Almost feel sorry for the poor wretches. They don’t have a chance.”  Rowanna was laughing harder now. Zuste glanced at her with curiosity. She was laughing still, perhaps, but tears ran down her face.

“You are well?” he asked.

She nodded, incapable of speech. A handful of moments passed, and the woman spoke slowly, “I needed this. Needed to see the lifeless lose, to see a victory of life over death.”