The IX (53 page)

We’ve all seen the recording. The Ardenese craft was utterly consumed in a holocaust that didn’t even scratch the surface of the wall. And it was powered by an engine that would have destroyed half of Rome in the conflagration. So, if something that powerful was incapable of breaching this edifice, what hope do they think they have?

The rampart beneath his feet thrummed in response to the fury of endless detonations.

It’s as if they want to shock us into defeat by their willingness to die like rabid dogs. Make us realize that even if it takes a thousand years and every life they have, they’ll never give up until they succeed or are utterly consumed.

He covered his eyes from the glare of a particularly bright explosion.

Look at them. Climbing over themselves in their haste for a martyr’s death. Unlike their accursed masters . . . Tricky, conniving bastards.

Still determined to pay the Horde back for the terrible losses inflicted upon his first command, he was struck by a sudden thought.

No! It couldn’t be that simple?
Spinning on his heel, he sought out his new optio among the press of men manning the fortifications.

“Antonius, to me.”

Antonius Gaius Septimus, an eighteen year stalwart from Napoli who had worked his way up through the ranks, was soon at his side. “Sir?”

“How goes the relocation of our troops to the
Arch of Winter
?”

“On schedule. As directed, we are staggering the patrol rotations so the Horde is unaware of our true purpose.”

“Who do we have remaining?”

“Tiberius Tacitus of the Second Cohort is yet to depart. Four centuriae of the First still man the walls. Besides them, only our brothers of the Fourth Cohort remain. They man the arc. Like us, they will be among the last to leave tomorrow.”

“Good. Look, I have an idea. Get the horses. There’s something I want to check out, and I need to move fast between transporter sites.” In answer to the puzzled look his lieutenant gave him, he explained, “You’re coming with me. We’re taking a little trip to the western side of the city.”

*

Climbing to the top of the observation podium, Marcus turned to the centurion commanding the Fourth Cohort, Amelius Crispus, and said, “I like what you’ve done with the place. Explain it to me.”

Amelius surveyed the construct before him. “It’s simple really. Apart from the men, every other resource here is expendable. It won’t be coming with us. So I rigged the base of each catapult along the inner ring with explosives. The sandbags you see are lightly packed with a metal and shingle mix that should cause quite a stir if we ever have to use them on uninvited guests.”

Marcus smiled to himself.
Outstanding.
“What fuses have you set?”

“For the one talent rigs, a full minute. It’ll give the crews plenty of time to thread their way through the web of steel to the safety of a fresh position. Once you get this side of the moat, I’ve had it reduced to thirty seconds.”

“Cut and run?”

“Exactly. Now that our foe has regained a measure of courage, and numbed themselves to the consequences of loss against the iron, I have little doubt casualties will cause them any delay. They’ll come, and they’ll come hard and fast. You’ve seen what happens when they sacrifice themselves . . .” He paused to indicate the sprawling maze before them. “All of this will be consumed. I don’t want my people wasting themselves in futile gestures.”

Good idea.
“I agree with your thinking.”

“Thank you. That’s why I halved the ratio of teams out there, as well. Basically, I’ve ordered them to fire, and only reload if it appears safe enough to do so. If it is, fine. If not, they’ll set their fuses, leapfrog the next post, and man the next available ballista. Once there, they’ll resume firing until the support team in front of them has to abandon their position, whereupon the procedure will be repeated until they work their way back behind the new scorpio line.”

Both officers turned to view two long rows of what appeared to be oversized crossbows embedded into the ground. Positioned in a
V
formation leading back toward the inner wall, they made it appear as if the Horde were being invited to storm an open set of jaws. The mouth was over a hundred yards wide, and protected by a smaller, secondary dyke that appeared to be filled with tar.

“What have you done there?” Marcus enquired.

“An iron and pitch mix. Once alight, it’ll give us enough of a gap to get the cohort out and through to safety. Just in case . . .” he nodded to the emplacements atop the inner bulwark, “I’ll have a detachment of volunteers manning that position. We’ll storm them with arrows until the battlements have been drenched in another boiling-tar-and-ore recipe that will definitely give us enough of a breather to make it up to the Magister’s level.”

“Impressive. Do you mind if I make one tiny suggestion?”

“Please do, Commander. Anything that makes my life easier is most welcome.”

“Listen for a moment, Amelius. Tell me, what do you hear?”

Both men paused to cock their ears.

“Try to ignore the men at work,” Marcus added. “Phase them out and concentrate on what you can discern in the background.”

Marcus watched as Amelius concentrated, and did as requested.

Amelius gasped. “I can hear our enemy outside the gates.”

“Precisely!” Marcus slapped his fellow officer on the shoulder. “Now. If you can hear them from out there, imagine what they will sound like in here, confined within the arc and with walls on all sides.”

“It’ll be deafening.” Amelius cast his gaze back across the killing field. “With all those men running about, I’ll need to ensure they can hear and respond to orders.”

“That’s right. Although we are adapting to these new levels of technology remarkably well, the radios might not suffice. In the heat of battle, the legion will resort to what comes naturally. Tried and tested methods of communication that have seen us through many an ordeal.”

“Thank you, Colonel. I’ll intersperse the field with cornicen and signifiers. We’ll use the horns and walkie-talkies until it gets too loud, and then revert to flags.”

He’s sharp and thinks on his feet. A man after my own heart.

*

As he materialized on the teleport pad, Mac immediately raised his hands and weapon high and identified himself. “Lieutenant Alan McDonald. Rhomane Command Team.” Beside him, Sam Pell likewise froze, but remained silent.

Even while their molecules were still reconstituting, they were targeted by multiple sensors. Four beams stabbed out. One pair enmeshed them within a grid of glowing amber light, while the others illuminated their chests with crimson dots.

The web turned green, the target indicators blinked out, and the .50 cannons resumed their automatic scans of the entire gallery.

Phew! I nearly had to change my pants there. Now
that’s
what first impressions are all about. If those monsters ever do manage to use the transporter system, they’ll be in for a nasty surprise.

Without a word, both specialists brought their weapons to the shoulder and swept the tunnel for signs of anything suspicious. Finding none, they relaxed and made their way toward the entrance to the Archive.

Mac had only taken a few steps when he hesitated.
What was that?

Backtracking, he paused before walking forward once more.
There it is again.

He cocked an eyebrow and murmured, “Sam. Check out this side of the corridor, will you? Tell me what you think.”

Looking puzzled, Sam crossed the passageway and did as he was asked.

Mac watched closely as his colleague strolled toward him. Sam frowned, glanced at Mac, and then stopped. After retracing his steps, he started forward once more, waving his hand in front of him.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” Mac stated.

“There’s a marked difference in temperature around this one spot,” Sam replied, “and I can’t decide where it’s coming from.”

“Me neither. There are no discernible drafts or other openings nearby. So what . . . ?”

“Cold pooling, perhaps? We’re a considerable distance underground, and some places do act as a sponge to the chill. I’ve encountered this before.”

“So have I.” Mac checked his wrist monitor. “But not by this much. It’s nearly ten degrees cooler.”

“Fahrenheit?”

“No, that’s just it. I’m talking Celsius.” Mac thought for a moment. “Switch to enhanced optics and scoot back along the gallery for a hundred yards or so. Look for any other places displaying such a discrepancy. Contact the guys, too. Ask them to check anywhere they think is vulnerable to surprise attack. I’m suspicious enough as it is. If we encounter this phenomenon again, it’ll prove something’s up.”

“What about Andy and Bob Neville? They’re on a static post above the First Magister’s marshaling yard covering the ships.”

“They can remain in situ. But get them to revert to thermal imaging. If their immediate area is clear, they can target further afield and get both Stu and Fonzy or Mark and Sean to take a closer look at anything out of the ordinary.”

“I’m on it, Boss.”

As Sam moved away, Mac stepped toward the hidden doors. Masked sensors activated. As the entrance revealed itself, a sentinel materialized in the air in front of him. “Good day, Lieutenant McDonald. How may I be of service?”

“Just completing my rounds, custodian. How’s Commander Cameron?”

“He is busy within. The cipher is almost complete and will be initialized within the hour. Shall I announce you?”

“No. That won’t be necessary. I don’t want to disturb him. I was on security rounds and—” Mac was distracted by the secondary machine gun post within the interior corridor. “Why is that sentry post not activating?”

“Your presence has now been logged, Lieutenant. The system has been notified of your visit and will allow you unrestricted access.”

“That’s very kind, but I want full ultraviolet security protocols reestablished immediately. Command Identification: McDonald. Alpha. Three. Seven. Two. Tango. Confirm?”

“McDonald. Alpha. Three. Seven. Two. Tango, confirmed, Lieutenant. Ultraviolet response restored.”

No sooner had the drone finished speaking than the lone emplacement came alive. Even though he stood on the threshold, Mac was forced to remain still while the familiar network of sensors completed their scans.

That’s more like it.

“Thank you, sentinel. Better to be safe than sorry.”

 I do not want anything hitting the fan this close to the exodus.

*

Zuul, Grand Vizage and Vocalator of the Unium, stepped forward.
Who stands with Imperator Vetis?
he boomed.

Ahoo!
roared the minds of the gathered host.

And who will fight with our mighty liege?

Ahooooo!
The intensity of the reply thundered into the ether, setting the myriad prisms bordering the Hall of Eclectic Spheres ablaze in a paroxysm of light and glory. Primal hunger, strangled for an age, raged against enlightened restraint. Slowly but surely, each of the magnified entities occupying the raised dais allowed their self-control to crumble. Within moments, a deep-seated core of slavering rage dominated the Hall.

The hour of release is nigh
, Zuul announced.
Revenge against those who caused our suffering is at hand. Soon, our victory will saturate this world in ruptured corpses.

Caught in the wake, the massed ranks of the Trianium Tier responded. Flexing and surging with maniacal glee, they expressed their frustration with a surge of emotion so pure, so raw, that their umbilical membranes almost combusted with unrestrained fury.

Stand ready!
The overwhelming presence of Angule cut into the thoughts of his faction, bringing them to heel.

Seeing he had refocused their attention, he continued:
Take your places in the line. Our first jump will take us to the staging post above the capital. Once there, close on me. Vetis thinks we will be transported en masse into the various insertion points about the city. I have ensured that will not happen. As soon as we phase, adopt
this
choral resonance
. His mind displayed an incredibly complex encryption.
Conjoined, our cabal will manifest within a structure that is seldom used. From there we will redeploy. Be alert, for as soon as we arrive I will attempt to mesh with the human who seems sensitive to my presence.

He paused to ensure each of them was listening attentively to his instructions.
Saffir. You are with Limun. Buer, take N’Omicron. Caym? Vual will pair with you. Due to their inexperience, Mamone’sh and Orias will stay with Raum and myself as we attempt communication. Remember, shield yourselves heavily and stay hidden as much as you can. If and when you locate any children of the third tier who have shown themselves sensitive to our aspirations, draw them to you. But do not allow them to harm any human.

They moved forward as the master portal was activated.

Most of all, do not worry. For them, battle will be joined instantly and we will not be missed until it’s too late.

*

“Do you see what I mean?” Flavius Velerianus demanded. “There’s not a single Horde Master among them. The tricky bastards ambushed my patrol and would have wiped us out if it weren’t for divine providence. And now they’ve turned shy again? I don’t think so. They’re up to something.”

Antonius gazed down into the confusing blaze of color below. “So where do you think they are? Because I must confess, I can’t make head nor tale of what I’m looking at. It’d be hard to spot any form of crown amongst that lot.”

“Oh, you’d know it if you saw one,” Flavius spat, shivering at the memory. “It’s like facing a wall of crimson and purple hatred wreathed in scarlet and blue flames.”

A dull flash from out in the Sengennon Strait caught his eye.