By the time we reached the stables down the street, fighting had spread away from the temples. There was a constant clash of weapons, the screams of the wounded and dying, and the stench of blood and death all around. It made me ill, as several times we came upon the dying as their animae parted with their bodies, a process that makes the auras foul for a time, and left me heaving, but glad that vodka was in my system as a type of buffer. Death had become painful for me to be near, since the aura sight had intensified with my blindness.
That third eye is something that I have never truly controlled, despite having it from my youth. For a long time I was able to deny it, until the period just before my blinding when it began to break through the blockades I had set up to suppress it. The power of it can overwhelm one while using it, and when one has denied an ability, it has the control, not you. There was a short time, when I had some control, before it imploded. Now I had to wonder, was it the drugs and poisons Didius had told me of, or something in my mindset and lack of training in the ability that made me so incapable of dealing with its scope at time.
At the stables, another family member was waiting, a little more distant than cousin, but still of a related gens. One whose presence told me just how widespread the sudden rebellion I was being caught up in was. Norbanus was an Optio in the Legions, the Fifth legion, in charge of the mountain passes to the west. Either his entire legion had rebelled, or we had a deserter, something I would never have thought of Norbanus, in our midst.
Then I heard a voice that had grown since last hearing it.
"Why can I not ride that onagera, Optio, it is obviously the fastest, and as Imperatrix I deserve such!" Julia had become a bit picky since our last meeting, but in thirty years, even those of my kind will grow somewhat, if not totally.
"Because, young doma, it belongs to another, who also will need its speed. More so than your journey will need." Norbanus is the only vir I know who can argue with adolescent girlss calmly at all times. But then, he had been forced to raise his sisters when accidents had sent his parents on to their next lives.
"Who would need such speed more than me." That tone warned me, she was at that age, the one some females became unreasonably possessive at.
That the onagera in question chose that moment to kick out, just as I arrived to receive the hoof in a shin. Not a bone breaking shot, but with enough punch to ensure bruising and pain for days if not a full hebdoma. And that kick, from the middle of its three pairs of legs, I knew well.
"Pater was right." My voice edged through my gritted teeth, "I should have bred out the kicking."
Laughter from my guardians and Norbanus filled the stable for a moment. "Indeed, and he sent the most spirited of your strings to ride. And one a bit tamer for our lady, if she will accept it." The Optio slapped my shoulders in the greetings of kinsmen. "Good to see you again, Billenius. Ready to ride?"
I tried again to smile, and by the sounds my relative made, it must be a terrifying sight. "Try and stop me, consorbrinus. But tell me we are taking the Stultus with us."
The gasp of air he made said many things. Not all knew who all was involved. "Ringelius?"
"Out of thin air, like an avenging angel dropping from the heavens to slay the Cato. Called him out in the temple itself, of all places." Somehow that made sense, that Ringelius had gotten wind of the rebellion, or else just chanced to come back at the moment it broke. His luck was like that.
"Perfidio!" My curse stunned all for a moment. "I really wanted that bastard myself. He owed me many broken ribs and several teeth, and a wrist. I definitely wanted time on that wrist."
Didius hand was on my shoulder then, pushing the hands of the Optio aside. "Trust me, the way that boy was going, the Cato had no bones left unbroken. He is quick with that hammer of his." He gathered in his breath, the exhaled loudly. "And we better wait for him. He will need a fast ride as well. Assuming we have a colt or filly he can ride."
My hands found the onagera's back, to calm her down. I felt the rough yet comforting hairs of her kind. It was like coming home, even if still nowhere close. If we got across the sea by the fastest passage, it was still a long ride to the edge of the distant Rupes Inclina just north of the Magna Rima, and the many tall rock castles of that land, including my own favorite, the Hamus. The place my family would be at in this time of year for calfing aurochs and shearing the goats.
The smell of this mare, the sex indicated by the form of onagera versus onager for a stallion, was a balm to my nose. That rich odor that says horse, even if there is an extra set of hooves to avoid when she got finicky. And about ears, where Julia's hands had been, she was indeed touchy. Her nose was the spot to rub her, it turned out, and that sweet spot so many animals have at the back of the jaw. As my hands ran over her lines, I felt the familiar muscles and tones of her ancestors. Ancestors I had ridden many times, and bred in many cases in my youth. The kick told which of my three lines I was dealing with. This was the playful kick of my last constant mount, Turbator, a onager with speed, and some stamina, but not as much as the desert breeds from below the Rima.
I had added that in my instructions the last few times, telling father to make choices for me based on speed, stamina and spirit. Pater had expressed a desire for less spirit, or at least softer hooves in the few recent missives I had received. No doubt, as he was the smith for our gens and responsible for shoeing the animals, the kicks were bothering him as he aged.
She took deep breaths, learning my scent, as onager tended to be more scent oriented than horses, for identifying a herd mate or rider. I kept my voice low, speaking softly, saying my name several times, and stroking her mane. Motion behind me, sound and the breeze they make, let me know I was not alone. A soft voice, pitched not to spook the beast came, which was possible, as there was a thick smell of copper and smoke on the person.
"Perfidio, Billenius. She is gorgeous." Ringelius' hand touched the middle of my back, about shoulder level for him.
"Had your fill of fighting?" I was not sure if I wanted to speak with one who robbed me of a kill I so desired, even if unable to really do it myself.
"I heard the things he did from a friend, one who rides a striped mule." There was a hesitancy, as if he was scared to say more. "He told me to head back home, and to be ready for fighting. I tried to ask more..." His voice died off. Ringelius hated certain things that had become common place for me of late.
"You ask no questions of a god, consorbrinus. Their answers are often more confusing than not knowing." This bit of my hard earned knowledge evoked his laugh, which for his voice was strange. It was like a set of bells, starting with a deep bass bronze tone rising to seek the top of his range and beyond, like that of a hand bell.
"Small comfort, Bill, small comfort." His hand took my right forearm as I let in fall. "She has the colors of Turbator, save the flash on her forehead. That is roan, not white. How you had her bred..."
My laughter drowned out the rest. "Trust to mother and pater mostly. I hope we gathered my belongings up, I have some letters you can read for amusement. Pater commenting on why onagers should have kicking bred out of them tends to be rather amusing. He gets rather eloquent on that subject at times." I was avoiding the point of contention he had brought up, and dropped.
But my cousin is not known for diplomacy. "Could not let you have a go at him, Bill. Sorry." A sigh like the wind through the still barren trees of the island came from him. "He hid behind too many innocents, I had a hard time not hitting them. Would have been impossible for you. Once he figured I was matching wounds, he got real protective of his left wrist too. I got creative, and pulverized his kneecaps for you."
Sometimes, it is hard, no matter how much I want to stay mad at him, to not laugh at something Ringelius says. "Did you get that other sadist as well?"
The hand left my arm, and slapped my seat. "You have gotten lazy, I had to leave someone for you to kill."
The stable got busy before I could frame a suitable reply, as more people arrived. Auras pressed on my third eye as the place became packed. Strange auras, not unfriendly, but still ones that I was taking time being comfortable with. It was giving me one of my headaches. Traveling by onager, though, was not a good time to take something that dulled the senses and mind. This pain I would have to carry awhile, and pray it was leftovers of the poison, not my doni, the gift of aura sight, going awry.
Someone other than the short cousin lifted me up to the saddle. I was becoming a bit disoriented, by the numbers and voices, the shifting about, and other things. Settling in, I discovered two things. One, someone had dug out my Custos saddle, the distance riding one of my preference. Two, even with lousy food and poison, some how either the saddle had shrunk or I had spread out in a way to make it not as comfortable as it had been in my leaner days.
"Triarium! You have your charges and orders! Move out!" The voice of Didius was the roar of a lion in that space.
It was for me at least a short ride, to the ferry. I am not proud of the six hours on that ferry, as the winds steered the vessel south of the normal landing that was only a league of travel. Suffice it to say, the Parcae never meant me to be a sailor, and crafted my Fate with the stomach of a landsman.
All that time, passing through streets still stained to my senses with the fighting and death, as well the ferry, there was a grim silence in all. Even then young Imperatrix seemed calm now as her aura shifted in and out of the others ahead of me. I was, until the boat, improving.
Landfall was rough, the floating ice of the shoreline heaving and creaking, as it strained under the waves and bow of our vessel forcing to land. The curses of Norbanus reached my ears through the banging and noise of mounting folk. When he finally regained his calm, it was not good news he had. "Five spears too short, we are on a bench, Didius. Break out rub down gear, we do not want the onagers taking chill in their legs after wading to shore."
Didius is about as good a sailor as I am, leaving him able to answer with only a few weak oaths of his own, before assenting. Myself, I did not wait, and managed to actually get my left foot in the stirrup before anyone had even thought of aiding me. The onagera had been a great comfort to me on the ferry, she turned out to have better sea legs than her rider. There had been none of the kicking, and only one nip at an arm the whole ride. As the bite had been to keep me from following my stomach over the rail of this vessel, I did not scold or tap her nose for it.
The hand that gave me a push up I never knew. I had been firm, strong, and yet felt feminine. I had not recalled a woman's voice, save the Impertrix's, and Julia was still too young for her hands to be that large yet. Something in the auras around me at that moment set my nerves on edge, but then faded off into the blend of the crowd.
The shoreward noise increased, as the ongeras stepped into the water and waded to the shore. As I fumbled around the onagera's neck, seeking the reins, a familiar hand swatted it aside. "Bill, she can see better than you, let her choose the path, you just stay in that saddle for her." So far, only Ringelius had called me that shorter name. The others were so involved with commanding the troops, they seemed to have forgotten how to relax around me.
It was not like I had much choice, as our mounts moved forward at last, and I found that the bench was loose silt, getting me wet as well up to the knees. As others rubbed down the mare, Norbanus arrived with a blanket he used to dry off my leathers, rolling them up to give the same vigorous rubbing to my calves as the onagers were getting.
After what I judged by the changing angle of the sun on my face to be half a glass of sand, we were mounting up again, this time, my legs were reminding me that dragon's spittle and claw wounds were things that never stopped hurting. As was my face, though a warmer breeze was drifting down the plains leading here to the shores of the Mare Brutullium. The air was taking up the moisture from the wet snow we had to ride across, which became easier as we made passum to the south at a slow walk. The sun on my face felt good, even as other parts of my body began protesting this much exercise after such a long period of none.
I cannot say how far we traveled, I had no way, even once we reached the paved way that led to the south, not being able to see the waystones and their marks from the capital. I further had no clue as to the stride length of my mount, so counting them would not have told me either. As before, we rode in silence, just the hooves and tack noises, and occassional questions from our young Imperatrix to ask where we were. Queries that went unanswered save for a request to speak softer.
I traveled this road many decades before, but my visits to Jugulium, the capital we had left, were not common nor recent. I took to counting the benches we climbed above the sea, rising to the great flat lands we sought beyond them. Clouds and fog built up as we rode, the former taking that skin warmth with it, the latter adding the chill of wetness to the air. We rode after dark for sure I remember, as the cold misery sunk into me, taking much of my mind with its fingers of shivers and spasms.
I do not remember dismounting that first night, nor for several more to come, the first camp had a small fire only, the others were cold, like I had kept in the desert, only the fire to cook a meal on, and quench it before it could be used to find us. We left the road each time, and there was hay and oats both for the onagers already at each place, though once the supply was not enough, as the beasts of the wilds had found the stashes laid in by the plotters.
It was the fifth morning before my mind began to clear. That day, as we rode, my saddle did not seem as narrow, my muscles lost the agony and settled to just an ache, and the wind in my face, now much warmer, felt good. We were descending back down the benches around the Mare, to reach the Senarbant, the river which drains the prairies I grew up on to that sea. The bridge would be held, I was sure, by Legions still loyal to the Decurian takeover, or worse, such as the same led by Centurions.
Half way through the day, we halted, and our leaders held a brief conference. They seemingly forgot that being blind made me pay more attention to things heard over sights seen. They were talking of the challenge the scouts they had sent out had found at the bridge, the easiest of all the crossings, for leagues and leagues of the amnis course. The first ford was nearly two hundred leagues due south, and it was not recommended for use in spring runoff season, which they snow would have increased the danger of.
Two full legions, and a group of Centurions with them in command. Not just of the Centuria Sinistra, but the Dextera as well. We would face a fight beyond our numbers and skills, for few were as skilled in the Ars Arcanum, what others called magic, as those of the Right Hand Century. Magic, numbers, skill at arms, all in the foes favor. All we had was surprise and luck on ours. The latter seemed to be running out.
They argued running south, but all the supplies were arranged with gens on the west side of the river, not the east. Forage was tougher on the east bank as well, the grass was mostly the tougher crystal and sword grasses, that onergers refused to eat save in extremis, and could sicken them if eaten for too long a time. Water was scarcer, as the mountains to the west wrung the rains and snows out of the winds, leaving the plains dry, save in the areas the rivers from the mountains flowed down. Then there were the beasts, the deadly creatures of the lands to east were more common. Smilodonts, the great tusked cat beasts, most prominent of them, but others as well. The Jai' was safer, as the prairies between the rivers were called on the west, patrolled, kept clear of the beasts by Custodi who ranged the land.
I had an idea as I listened in to them, and tuned out Ringelius next to me, regaling the Imperatrix with tales of the many distant lands he had traveled. Few had called my closest cousin by name, and when they did, it was only in the company of certain others. That he was going along with this bothered me, this was not the impetuous fool I had known, even if he played that part for Julia now. Something in that rattled around in my head for a while, as our liberators tried to find ways to keep us free. In its rattling Ringelius began a story from me and his youth, and that of Norbanus, in this very spot. An incident I began to physically wince at his telling of to the Imperatrix, one who could have us up on charges even now for the event.
His voice brought back the memories of that awful time, and the thing the three of us had caused. Our only saving grace was no one had died. "So when they found this plant growing here, these three boys decided to get rid of it. They tried digging it out, using oil to kill it, you think of the ways to kill a plant, short of burning it out, they tried it. At last the eldest of them suggested fire."
It was too much, Ringelius was trying to wiggle out of the responsibility, and stick it all on me. Despite days of cold and the injuries from the past that had weakened my voice, somehow, as it seems to happen to everyone, my voice carried further than expected. "I did NOT suggest burning out the fire grass, Ringelius. I told you not to put any onto the fire!"
Norbanus had been speaking his thoughts to Didius when my loud protest made him choke. The tale was coming out, and with our cousin telling it, he knew things that he would prefer not be known would come out.
"Ah! Consorbrinus, it was your telling me of the effect of a spark in that grass that in fact fueled the idea. You were the one who started it too!" I know this is impossible, but its like I could feel his grin smacking me in the face as I turned into the arguement.
"You knocked my pipe out of my hand into the grass!"
"Smoking in the middle of grass known to explode in fire was dangerous, I told you that!" He was enjoying this. It was like it was part of one of his harebrained plans.
"Really? I think I told you rocky places were fine, but the grass, where you sent it to, was the dangerous spots."
"Really, and on a day with a warm dry breeze like today? Smoking is good? In all this fire grass that grew back?"
Cethegor was laughing by now, I could still hear Norbanus making choking noises, praying his part in the mess did not get mentioned. He really should have known better.
"Besides, I was not the one who tossed the lamp oil onto the fire to put it out." Ringelius had to be grinning, his voice was the pitch it took only when trying not to laugh openly.
Norbanus finally found his voice, realizing his hopes were dashed. "You tossed it to me, you little sawed off jester!"
Ringelius laugh tore the air, the ring bell tones carrying a distance I was sure. Into the midst of this, a somber voice spoke, one of an elder, who remembered the fire never explained. "A fire that forced the road to be abandoned, for days, but the old road, which cuts off here, could be used to get to the bridge. Excellent idea, viri. Excellent." He laughed himself. "I will ask the Imperatrix to give you boys a pardon for that, if it works for us this time. As long as we torch the wooden planking on the lesser channel bridge of the old road, then they can only get to us by the stone arch. The trees along the appoach will likely ignite, making them seek shelter back at the Mare."
I heard him barking for the oils and incendiaries they had not used in the escape as well as Norbanus getting information on how many were on the far side of the bridge. The reply startled me. Even I would not have left only five men on the island and fourteen to guard the mounts against our own fifty guards. We could face that number, and still hold the bridge, it seemed, as until now I had no firm count on our guardians numbers.
The smell of oil and weapons filled the air suddenly. Chablys does have an odor to it, rich and full of the oils and blood it has been treated and soaked in. Screeches of whetstones along edges surrounded me, an anthem of battle I had not heard in many a year. I had never dismounted this time, sitting in the saddle, but now I wished I had gotten down, just for that momentary thrill of taking saddle.
"Save oil for the bridge, any who can cast a spell, see if we can drop trees on the short arch, to slow pursuit. Norbanus, take the van, ride them straight on the bridge and into the herds, scatter they onagers to the winds, torch any wagons, unless they were fool enough to leave a team hitched. Steal those if you can. Cethegor, reargaurd on the arch, once we are across, you and the nine you choose, fall back, but do not join us. Make for the mountains."
"Might I make a suggestion, Triari?" My question popped out before I even knew the idea was in my head. "The will assume we scatter to through them off, so why not truly scatter."
"And leave the Imperatrix with no guards, I think not, Billenius"
"No, I know you have Praesidi in the group now, have them and Cethegor's band head west as you suggest. But not just anywhere in the mountains. There is a place, a draw known for a certain resident. My name will be your password to her. Tell her that as I aided her offspring, I send her the Imperatrix for her to guard."
The tale of my first training mission as a Custos is long and not all needs be told here, but was a popular one with bards for some reason. That I had saved a band of children and clutch of dragonlings from slavers is enough, and a debt was owed by one of the double handful of dragons I trust not to slay me.
"It makes sense, Senex, to have her in the claws of a dracia, one the Centuries and the Decemviri fear and avoid. Not to mention one the girl's own mother had counted as both friend and counsel." Cethegor was arguing in favor of a plan I had, which told me it may have been in his own mind already. "And, that way, we do not have to remain as her captors to the people at large. I will leave word with those I pass for the scattered Praesidi to gather to guard her there."
Didius remained silent as the grasslands around us, then assented. "Very well, meet us at the Hamus once you are done, Cethegor. If we have left there, start to Pelori by the fastest way you can."
With a smell of torches and burning grasses, the plan was set in motion. I am sure that some day some sage of military history will set down the battle, but he will probably never know the greatest truth. That the plan survived contact with the enemy, a first in my experience. Not that I could see the battle, all I had to work off of were the sounds and results. The trees fell to the spells of those who cast them, the crashing across the short stone bridge giving me a headache and leaving my ears ringing. The clash of weapons was brief, violent and made me sick in my soul. Death, something I once dealt with the acinias at my belt, bothered me more now that I saw the aftermath in the souls of the dispatched as their auras died away in agony from wounds. Two of the ones on the island must have been tossed off into the deep canyons here as the amnis carved its ways through softer rocks.
Ringelius had taken the reins of the onagera from me when we set out. The tugs from another was something she shied at many times, frustrating not just Ringelius, but myself. It took all my efforts at calming her with hands in her mane and neck to keep my mount from tearing those leather straps from my cousin's hands. The words I spoke were excited though, as Ringelius seemed to have forgotten I was not in as good of shape as when we were boys. At the turn we made to reach the Great Arch Bridge, I nearly was unseated, and twice he held us up with no warning, which left me with a mouth full of mane hairs and dirt kicked up by the other onageri.
After another wild and gut wrenching ride, I felt the reins slapped into my right hand. "Bill, straight on and make some noise, the inimici did not corral them or stake them. I will call habenas adducere once they are running good!" Then he rode off making wild cries in languages diverse and often not repeatable in polite society. I settled for a few "heeyaws" at first, but as they gathered back up to join the onagera's gallop, I found the need to toss out one that most onageri know from a young age if tame. "Lupi!", "wolves", is something they fear, and once that cry carried to them, I found less noise and bodies bumping me, and more space and lack of sound.
I could barely hear Ringelius, reveling in the feeling of the run, being free, even if it took everything I had to stay in that saddle. Too long in that temple had let the memories of the thrill of the running of a steed bury themselves into recesses not visited even in my dreams. Where others were afraid the horse would keep running, I was the one that wanted to. The wind on my face had felt better than anything in years, even the sun. This was where I belonged, in a saddle, moving, not locked up in some temple for others to drug for prophecies. The Parcae would always find me out here, somehow I knew, when they had a vision, prophecy or dream for me to relay to the world.
Behind us I heard the battle with the guards on this side still raging in the distance. That was far enough away the auras did not bother me this time, but I just knew that somehow, it would not be our last encounter with death. Slowly the Triari gathered up, Didius first, and Norbanus last. We broke up there, Norbanus taking one band to the center of the prairies, Didius taking me and Ringelius with him on a trek closer to the canyon of the river.
It was two days before he at last slowed the pace, and allowed us more than a four hour rest. That was the day he finally spoke of things long past. We felt like the boys we had been when we started the great fire, as he gave us our long overdue dressing down. But he never stopped our movement, though he tried to work in longer rests. It was the twenty-third day since my liberation when we rode into the spring encampment of my gens. No one had to help me stay in the saddle as we rode in. I even managed to get down on my own, instead of having to be lifted off by Didius. But Ringelius kept me steady as I approached my family’s embrace. After a while, I was in a bed in our wagon, mother and several aunts checking me over for what had been done. I heard my sister screaming at Norbanus about broken bones not set, cuts not cleaned correctly and a litany of injuries that made me wonder how I still lived, let along rode that distance. Ringelius was shouting to all of them that it had all happened before they got me.
Then mother’s hand touched my brow, and I entered into a sleep so deep, there were no dreams. Just peace
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