The Trumpets of Mars (Imperium #2) - Chapter 13

“He’s the son of a local craftsman who we think might be the ringleader of this little band,” Ramirus was saying as she walked into the room.

Lucilla had been woken after only an hour of sleep and taken into her father’s audience chamber, to find him, several key senators and Faenius already there, although each looking as raggedly tired as she felt. The push both by Faenius to get the praetorians in place of the city guard and Ramirus to find the insurrectionists behind the attempt on her life had led to several nights of late meetings. They had only finished up their last conversation two hours previously.

“I’m sorry to have roused you, my lady,” Ramirus said when he noticed her enter the room. “Your father thought that, as the Consul’s appointed agent, you should be here for this.”

“My father is right, of course. Don’t apologize,” She said. “Just tell us what’s happened.”

“I received information yesterday afternoon that my agents have been tracking down all day. Early last night we took the guardsman we believed behind the orders to clear the area around Senator Norbanus’s murder and where the attempt on your life occurred. After several hours of questioning, we got the names of his contacts inside what looks to be the cell of men behind it. Further arrests and interrogations suggest there are multiple such cells working independently in town, and only their leader, a marble carver named Decius Sestius Gorgonius, knew the names of men in the other cells. We didn’t get his name until very late, and he was able to catch wind of the raids and escape before we got to him. His son was injured in a clash with the praetorians chasing Decius, and was taken captive, but will not say where he went.”

“Do you have any thoughts on where he might be going?”

“I think he was leaving the city, heading north. We are trying to track through people he knew and had business with, to see if any of them have homes that way, maybe a farm or a villa outside of town, but it will take time to come up with a list and start searching.”

“Is it reasonable to assume a man capable of leading a cell and murdering a senator would stay very long, knowing you’d be doing that very thing?” The Emperor asked.

“No, and I don’t think he will. If I had to guess, I’d say he’d try to make for one of the smaller cities. We’re also looking into possible connections he’d have with other towns and businesses. As a marble craftsman, he’d know people closer to the queries near the border. If he went anywhere, he’d go there.”

“Unless he were smart enough to know you’d follow that line of reasoning,” Lucilla said.

“Maybe, but being on the run isn’t just about avoiding the people chasing you. If you’re a wanted man, especially one with little access to resources and money, you’d have to still acquire lodging to get off the streets, someone to help supply you with food and other necessities, and probably a way of getting outside news, especially if you were the local leader of a rebellion against the Emperor. All that requires contacts and means picking a random city on a map might not help.”

“Could he be going south, towards the Carthaginians like …” Faenius started to say and then paused, his eyes darting towards the Emperor.

“Like my son, you mean,” the Emperor supplied.

“Yes. Forgive me, Princeps. I don’t mean to open wounds, but it must be considered.”

“Rightfully so. I have never been the sort to crucify a man for asking questions; especially those that I must hear, regardless of how uncomfortable they may be,” he said to the praetorian commander, before turning his attention back to Ramirus. “Could he try and follow my son?”

“Perhaps, but it would be foolhardy. From everything we can find, Decius is a man used to the finer things in life. He hasn’t spent much time outside of the city, except to visit marble quarries, which he does rarely and in style when forced to. He’s not going to be able to cut cross country make it through both our and the Carthaginian lines and safely to Londinium. Your son spent a fair amount of time with the legion on campaign and left while the legions were fully occupied engaging each other. Since the Carthaginian scout was found, Velius has dramatically increased the number of patrols to the south, in attempts to keep the Carthaginians as much in the dark about our plans as possible. I’ve already sent word to him to increase his patrols along the border. If he goes that way, I’m positive we’ll get him.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Lucilla asked.

“We’ll still get him, but it may take longer, and potentially not before he can cause more problems.”

“What about the men you caught?”

“We still have questions for them, but by this point, we’ve normally gotten everything useful we can get out of them. Anything they haven’t told us by now, they probably won’t.”

“Bring them here,” the Emperor commanded.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Ramirus asked, almost apologetically. “These are men actively engaged in destroying your government. They are dangerous.”

“I have my own guards, the commander of the praetorians here, and they are unarmed. Are you suggesting they are still likely to be able to reach me while in chains, let alone harm me?”

“It is unlikely, Princeps, but considering the damage they have wrought already, I just suggest caution.”

“Then you should be cautious. Bring them in,” he said, his tone making it clear he did not want to say the request a third time.

Ramirus nodded and left. Lucilla, her father, and his assembled advisors waited in silence for the spymaster’s return. Finally, Ramirus reappeared, followed by six men, each being escorted by a praetorian. The men all had various degrees of injuries, from simple bruises to bloody bandages over what were clearly serious wounds.

“None of these men are the ring leader, correct?”

“No. This one,” Ramirus said, pointing at a younger man who had one arm in a sling and a bandage over one of his eyes. “Is the son of the man we believe to be the ring leader of this group.”

“Where is your father?” The Emperor asked the young man.

In reply, the man spat on the floor, only to be knocked to his knees when the guard accompanying him slapped him across the face.

“No need for that,” the Emperor said. “If he won’t talk, he won’t. Beating him any more won’t entice him out of silence. I will ask again, however. Will you tell me where your father is?”

“I will tell you nothing,” the young man said, pushing himself back upright with his one good arm. “You are a pretender. You abdicated your throne to a demon sent from Hades himself to destroy Rome. You can burn, for all I care.”

“I see,” the Emperor said, clearly unphased by the tirade. “Lucilla, as the Consul’s assigned representative, what should be done with these men.”

“Ramirus, do you believe you’ve gotten everything you can from them?”

“I would like more time, my lady.”

“Fine. Take them back to your dungeons and continue questioning them. When you feel like you’ve done all you can, they are to be executed in the same manner as the men they still follow. No need for a show execution this time. Just take their heads and be done with them.”

To his credit, the young man didn’t flinch. Maybe he already knew this was how it had to end, or maybe he just believed in his cause so much that he didn’t care about his own life. Either way, he handled the news of his pending execution well. A part of Lucilla felt bad having ordered the death of someone like that, but only a very small part. Seeing as he was part of the group that had ordered her murder.

The other men did not take the news as well, with several falling to the ground in tears. With a nod, the guards lead, or in some cases, dragged, the rebels out of the room and towards their fate.

Outside the Village of Rhaeadr

No meeting or ultimatum was needed this time, Ky thought standing with the rest of Talogren’s Caledonians looking across the open field at the forces assembled against them. Based on Talogren’s description of the population levels in the area and how many villages they faced, the last holdouts must have pulled in every adult male in defense of their villages.

For where they were, in a corner of an already underpopulated area of the country, it was an impressive display and would have, no doubt, been able to fend off most local challenges. Impressive as it was, though, they had to know they didn’t stand a chance against Talogren’s horde, which had grown slightly in size as warriors from the surrendered villages were added to his forces. Talogren probably had three to one odds against the holdouts, which made their stand all that much braver… and foolish. Of course, the Romans had defeated armies with that size disparity, although if these men fought the same way as the rest of the north men, there wouldn’t be much in the way of maneuver for better field position. It would just be a pair of headlong clashes into each other, where the number of men present would absolutely make the difference.

Ky’s presence wouldn’t swing the balance one way or another, but since his collapse, he needed to re-establish the Caledonian’s belief in him. Ky still found it absurd that, somehow, his perceived strength was the lynchpin of the entire alliance.

Ky strode forward, away from Talogren’s forces, stopping in the center of the open field between the two forces. A ripple went across the warriors facing him, as they tried to figure out what he was doing. They would have heard about him by now, how blades couldn’t touch them and how he tore through warriors that opposed them, and so were maybe prepared for Talogren to send Ky forward on his own, as some sort of message. Ky’s stopping before he reached them, however, wasn’t on the script they’d expected.

For his part, Ky wanted to make sure he had everyone’s attention for what happened next. Partially the other side, in hopes that they might just surrender on the spot, but also Talogren’s men, so they could see what Ky was actually capable of, if need be.

Sophus had already tried to talk him out of this plan. Victory was all but certain, which meant any additional use of resources was a waste, especially the irreplaceable resources from the future.

Ky reached down and pulled his sidearm, pointing the sleek weapon and pointing it directly at the center of the line in front of him. He had very few rounds left, but he’d judged that the psychological effect on his allies was worth their expenditure.

The first round of super-heated gas ejected out of the weapon, flying towards the men across from him. It took less than a second to reach its target, which wasn’t enough to change their fate, but was enough for the men to react. None did, however, because they did not recognize what they were seeing. Much of the technology Ky used was invisible, but the people of this time could at least grasp the basic uses of them. Super-heated pellets of plasma might have just been magic for how alien it was to them.

The ball splashed against the men in the front rank, melting away metal, leather, and bone and set the men around them on fire. The thick wool and hide clothes they wore to stay warm caught easily from the radiated heat of the plasma, killing dozens in the center of the line, along with most of their leaders, who’d been with what would be their vanguard, when the charge began.

Ky fired twice more, aiming along the middle of the left and right wings of the force, effectively carving the solid line in front of him into four pieces, each separated by several yards of melted and burning flesh.

Once again, Ky was impressed by the northerner’s ability to remain steadfast in the face of danger. Doubly so when that danger was so alien and the result so ghastly. When he’d done the same thing to the Carthaginians, shortly after his arrival on this version of Earth, nearly every single soldier had turned and fled at the sight of the men suddenly reduced to ashes. Only a few dozen of the men facing him turned and fled for safety. The rest paused for a moment, trying to force themselves to comprehend what had just happened, and then did what Ky and thought the least likely of reactions; they charged.

It was as if the murder of their leaders was a signal for the battle to begin. The men bellowed their anger and began running forward in a mass of beards, fur, and blades. Ky knew he wasn’t going to avoid all conflict, but he’d hoped the display would have a greater impact than it did.

Replacing his sidearm, Ky pulled up his sword and waved it forward, which was the signal for his side to begin their counter charge, which was the only tactic the men under his command would accept. As he gave the signal, he began to run forward as well, first at a trot and then building up speed. His enhanced muscle allowed him to chew up terrain at a rate unmatched by anyone on the field, which meant he steadily increased the distance between himself and his supporting forces.

The first men ricocheted off of his kinetic shielding, the weapons and bodies sliding off its reactive surface. Using the muscle assist and predictive targeting from Sophus, Ky was able to time his swings in between the hits, his sword slashing through openings here and there to find flesh and his enhanced strength forcing the blade through hide and iron. The enemy line bowed around him, where the reformed center began piling in on Ky as the outer edges continued their charge, creating an almost shallow V.

It was a costly mistake given how the North men fought. It forced each man from the opposing village to face both the man in front of him and the men to the sides, since Talogren’s forces hit in a straight line, while the independent forces slowly collapsed into them piecemeal.

Around Ky, men began falling in twos and threes, the pile of bodies growing quickly, to the point where it started becoming difficult for more men to pile onto him. With the added distraction of the Caledonian warriors piling on, it was getting harder and harder to find targets for his blade.

Ky had sent his drone aloft at the start of the battle, allowing him to have a bird’s eye view of what was happening. He’d found that the chaos on the ground, along with the dust clouds and close quarters press of men, made it hard to get a tactical view of what was happening without it.

Through the take from the drone, he could see the opposing forces start to give way. Even without Ky’s blasts, the odds had been too great against them, but with it and the slaughter that followed, even the bravest men began to waver.

Ky was about to pull himself back to focus on the cleanup, specifically doing what he could to keep the atrocities from getting too far out of hand, when the feed from the drone suddenly cut out.

Ky had enough time to say Sophus’s name in before the world dropped out from under him. He could just feel the kinetic shield shutting off and the first blade getting through his protection when he lost all control of his limbs and then the world went black.