Daniel Ottalini - Antioch Burns

Quickly, he ordered his men to build a barrier. Barrels, bags of flour, anything the men could get their hands on went into this barricade along the riverfront. Facing north, the entrance to the small harbor funneled right between the two towers, the dock able to fit only two or three small riverboats at a time. The river continued to flow under the citadel through a series of gated channels, disappearing from view under the stone streets. The harbor was empty now, the only riverboat having left days ago.

The artillery pieces on the ramparts opened up on the Mongols. Regillus could hear the clacking of the heavy repeater crossbows as they loaded each foot-long bolt and launched it across the water.

“Sir!” Decanus Putriskus shouted down at him from the wall. “The Mongols have some type of fireboat!” Vulcan’s ashes, there is probably gunpowder on those fireboats…

“Sink the fireboats! Do it now! All fire on them!”

The whine of the artillery fire increased on the wall top. Craning his head over the barricade, Regillus was able to spot at least three fireboats floating down the river towards the harbor. Two had only small fires on them, but the third was awash in flame. Rocks and missiles from the walls lashed angrily out at them, large splashes betraying close misses. Crash! One of the boats seemed to founder, a lucky strike hitting the rudder and holing it at the water line. Cheers echoed down from the wall top. Even holed in such a way, I remember someone telling me how long it takes wooden boats to sink…

“Only two more…,” someone close to him was saying when the third boat exploded. As he had predicted, the boat was packed full of gunpowder. The fireball was blinding as the boat disappeared in a blaze of yellow and orange. The blast wave shattered windows and tossed parts of the barricade up into the air.

Regillus leaned heavily against a barrel to ride out the explosion. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to shake off the searing afterimage of the erupting fireboat.

There is another boat, Regillus recalled. He craned his head around, but could not see the last fireship. Where had it gone?

“Status report! Where are the other ships?” Regillus shouted up at the wall. The decanus’ head reappeared in a moment.

“Sir! Both fireships are gone! The explosion must have blown them to pieces!” Putriskus crowed. “The rest are pulling off and beaching themselves on the river bank. Looks like they’ll try and join up with their barbarian comrades in the city.”

A feeling of relief swept over the reserve cohorts. Men smiled and clapped each other on the shoulders in solidarity. Meanwhile, Regillus was debating his next move when a messenger cantered up on horseback. The animal whinnied nervously, no doubt still smelling the sulfurous aftereffects of the explosion. But the man’s face was a huge half moon smile.

“Sir! The air fleet has arrived. They are landing as we speak!”

“How is this possible? We would have seen them from the north…”

“They came from the west, sir, to avoid the Mongols and their new weapons.”

For a moment, Regillus could do nothing but gape. The news spread quickly amongst the men. Relief was here! They were saved! Regillus knelt and placed a gauntleted fist on the ground, giving thanks to the gods for seeing to their rescue.

“Mongolian forces have taken the breach. Mongolian forces have taken the-” Centurion Wessox looked up from the transmitter, his hand paused over the message pad.

“Sir, the message ended…”

“That came from tower twelve?” At Wessox’ nod, Regillus sighed. It was the closest tower and thus the site of the temporary frontline headquarters established by the defenders at the breach. The telegraph station kept citadel and breach in constant contact.

“We can assume that Councilman Ioannes’ defense has fallen and that Mongolian forces are within the citadel limits. Order all remaining forces back to the palace, and inform the evacuation fleet. Have there been any further updates from the aeroport?” Furthering clattering and clicking noises came from the transmitter.

“No sir, the last civilian transport was just leaving,” Wessox said as he hurriedly transcribed the seemingly meaningless sounds into words and sentences. Finally, the machine quieted. The centurion made a few corrections, then looked up.

“Sir, the remaining airships are assuming close position above the palace. They report that they are ready to leave, and will be unable to maintain post for very long. In addition, they report that the Mongol army is pouring through the breach. We likely have just minutes, sir.”

“Well it is good that I have rigged some traps to keep the Mongols out for a bit longer.” Monventus’ booming voice interrupted. “We can blow the gate, the side streets, and the palace courtyards when you wish. That should slow them down.”

Regillus turned to look at the engineer. The man was covered in dirt from head to toe, but his voice held steely determination. How is that man still functioning? I have not slept for days, and I feel like I am about to fall over.

“Were you able to confirm that all remaining posts have fallen back?” he asked Wessox.

The man rubbed his eyes, then covered a yawn.

“Centurion?” he prompted.

“Sorry, sir. Yes, sir, all outlying posts have fallen back. Although we are still unsure if there are any survivors from the breach…”

“I understand. I will take command of the rearguard. Get to the roof, take the next airship out. And Centurion,” Regillus handed the man a thin envelop. “If I do not make it out of here, would you ensure my wife gets that letter?” Wessox stood and accepted the letter gingerly.

“It would be my honor, sir. The empire needs men like you, far more then they need men like our former governor.” Wessox saluted, then turned and left, the remaining handful of low-level support auxiliaries joining him. Regillus heard the powerful hum of the engines as one of Rome’s mighty airships descended towards the palace.

Regillus left the small communications alcove and entered the throne room. From the center of the room, one could look down the long promenade to the main entryway. Regillus made the long walk in less than a minute. His remaining men had gathered in a large atrium, before the main entrance doors. They were barricaded with benches, tables, and all manner of odds and ends. His excurbitors , plus a handful of uninjured legionnaires and dismounted cataphractii in battered but functional armor, were all that remained to hold the governor’s palace. Off to the side, Monventus was busy rigging one last trap for the Mongolians.

A pounding at the outside door made him pause, along with the sounds of close combat fighting. The men went quiet, listening carefully.

“For the love of Christ Almighty, open this door!” came a muffled call in Latin.

Regillus recognized that voice. Definitely not Mongolian!

“Quick, help me open this door!” he ordered.

“But sir,” balked his signifer excubitor, Alexa Daedalus. Regillus ignored him, and pushed through his men to start clearing a path through the barricade bracing the doorway. It took only a minute to clear, but it felt like an hour. All along, the sounds of battle outside became more intense. As they were about to open the door, his excubitors pulled him back.

“Let us do this the right way, sir. Form ranks!” Signifer Excubitor Daedalus ordered. The score of men formed tight ranks, locking shields and spatha ready. Two men stood at the doorway. “When the doors open, we let our men fall back, and we take the fight to the Mongols. But do not leave the formation, stay inside the doorway, or none of us will survive,” Daedalus instructed.