Daniel Ottalini - Brass Legionnaire

All along the column, tired men sat, leaning against wallsand taking long drinks from canteens. The officers of the 13th Cohort assembledin a half-circle around their leader as he sketched out his plan.

“When we hit that battlement, I want half our men going ineach direction. Julius, you take first through fifth squads left, pushing andholding south.” Julius nodded, as those squad leaders looked at him, Gwendyrnamong them. “I’ll take the rest of the cohort north, along with the scoutauxilia squad. Secure the landing area on the wall if you can, prevent theenemy from using it if you can’t. We’ll take the northern tower. Questions?”

Silence from the officers, accompanied by several shakenheads. Then a raised hand. “Sir, what if the other cohorts don’t show up toreinforce?” asked the taciturn head of third squad, Gravus.

Constantine narrowed his eyes in thought. “We’ll just haveto do the work ourselves. Audeamus to take our objectives without thesupport we were promised. General Minnicus will grind his teeth at that one.”At several quizzical looks, Constantine sighed. “‘Let us dare!’ Do none of youmen speak High Latin?”

The officers looked at each other. Julius piped up. “I wouldhazard to say that our High Latin is a bit rusty, sir. Public schooling doesn’tinstill much High Latin. Unless you’re recitin’ a prayer, we won’t be able tounderstand it.”

Constantine frowned. “Very well, alea iacta est .Gather the men; they’ve had enough break time. It’s time to crush some rebelscum.” He paused as he saw the look of confusion on their faces again.Exasperated, he explained, “The dice have been cast, men; don’t any of youremember Julius Caesar?” The men all turned to look at their centurion. Shakinghis head, Constantine pulled off his helmet and rubbed his short-cropped hair.“The Emperor , Savior of the Republic and my ancestor, you idiots. Comeon, now.” He pushed past them, hearing a few snickers from those nearby.

“The die’s been cast?” he overheard Gwendyrn muttering toCenturion Caesar. “Didn’t know the tribune was a betting man. Hopefully hewon’t go spouting off any more of that High Latin garbage in battle. Won’t beany time for a translation.”

“Well, Gweny,” the centurion responded, “I think that thereis more to that man than meets the eye, even if he is a high-up muckety-muck.”Julius’s gauntleted hand clanked against the other man’s helmet. “Time to getto work.”

Up and up the cohort climbed, until finally they arrived atthe top. Looking left and right along the wall, Constantine saw only a fewguards, but a mass of equipment and heavy artillery. Farther north, severalcrews were using heavy ballistae and scorpions to rain artillery fire down intothe city. A medium-sized trebuchet was also in action, its arm whipping up witha clang and a low whoosh to hurl several explosive canisters out over thewar-torn city. Their target appeared to be close to the wall farther south,where the sounds of fighting were more evident now.

Constantine looked at his men and met fierce, predatoryfaces looking back at him. “They aren’t expecting us. Take them quickly, takethem quietly. Remember, our goal is the tower. Soon enough it will be us raining fire down on them !” he said confidently, though it hid an innernervousness. “Alright, men, divide up-move, move, move!”

Gathering the men, Centurion Caesar and Tribune Appiusquickly divvied up their forces. Julius saluted Constantine.

“See you on the other side, Centurion,” Constantine said.

“Don’t make us come save your behind now, sir,” thecenturion chided.

Julius led his squads to the left. Almost immediately,several rebel guards noticed their approach. With a yell, Julius charged, hismen on his heels. To the rebels, they looked like a wave of red, movingstraight at them. Several of them panicked, threw down their weapons, and ranfor their lives. Those few souls foolhardy enough to remain and fight werequickly dispatched. No Imperials were injured during the brief skirmish. Juliusquickly set his men to work disposing of the bodies by tossing them over thewall into the sea, and securing the heavy weapons.

“Gods curse them,” Julius muttered as the large gears on thecargo elevator stopped turning and the iron grills opened, disgorging severaldozen heavily armed and armored brown-coated rebels farther down the walkway.The fleeing men had located reinforcements. “Shields up!” he shouted.

Scrambling into position, his men formed a human roadblockfive men wide across the walkway. A few men threw together a barricade behindthe line, creating a makeshift wall upon the wall.

The foe approached at a jog, led by a huge, screaming manwielding a massive axe. Really? Julius thought sardonically. Theystill make barbarians in that mold?

The two sides clashed as if two trains had hit each other atfull speed. Shields shattered. Men tumbled backward. The giant was alreadythrough the first rank of men and into the second. Behind him, his men foughtwith the dazed remnants of the first line, fighting back to back now againstthe onslaught.

“Crossbows! Take them from behind!” Julius shouted at hisrearmost men.

Some men climbed atop the parapet, trying to gain a highervantage point from which to take shots at the enemy. Bolts whistled through theair, and two brown forms crumpled to the walkway. The enemy pressed forward,fighting to get out of the line of fire. Several hurled throwing axes in response,and one crossbowman fell from the battlements with a scream of pain. TheImperial line began to waver.

“Push them! Shields low and press them!” Julius shouted.“C’mon boys, push them forward! Remember your training! Stab and block, staband block!” He shoved his way through the ranks to the front. Wide-eyed menglanced back at him as they struggled to hold off the unrelenting assault.Julius planned his next move carefully. “Fourth rank forward, third rank,retire!” he shouted, and the men before him fell back, trying to make room fortheir relief.

At the same moment, the giant Nortlander launched a newattack. A mighty swing of his axe shattered a man’s shield. Pieces ofsteel-reinforced wood flew in all directions, mixed with gore. The unfortunatelegionnaire collapsed, cradling the stump of his arm. With a cry of victory,the barbarian twirled his axe back into position, readying for the killingstroke.

Julius lowered his head and charged into the fray, takingthe barbarian completely by surprise. Knocked off balance, the giant lostmomentum, and Julius seized the advantage, bending low and pushing into thelarge man, thrusting his sword forward in short, lightning fast jabs. Parrying,the Nortlander chieftain fell back several feet. The two men eyed each other,shuffling this way and that, watching for an opening.

Legionnaires had dragged their injured comrade to safetybehind the line. Fresh ranks moved up to cover their leader. The rebels formedtheir own line just a few yards away. Their leader turned and continued toexult his men in their harsh, Nordic language. Julius looked at his soldiers,gave an exaggerated nod, and abruptly charged.

The sudden assault shook their enemy, but they refused tobreak. These are not rebels who happen to have a Nortland leader, Juliusrealized. They must all be Nortland raiders. Shouts and yells washedover him as his men charged again. Shield to shield, sword to axe, theImperials forced their opponents back toward the elevator and landing platform.

Julius stabbed again and again. His arm burned with fatigueand his shield arm tingled under the multitude of blows raining down upon it.Small cuts and nicks burned up and down his arms and he tasted blood in hismouth. Sword dripping blood, he backed out and let a fresh man take his place.