Daniel Ottalini - Brass Legionnaire

Farther down the line, a man collapsed with an axe throughhis galea , the steel helmet shattered by the force of the blow. Anotherlegionnaire stepped up to take his place. The discipline of his men wasbeginning to tell. Their opponents were frustrated, unable to break through thenow solid Imperial line.

With an ear-shattering bellow, the Nortland chieftain wadedinto the fray again. This time, the young centurion was ready for him. Watchingthe massive axe swing by, even as he felt the wind of its passing, Juliusstabbed down at the Nortlander’s unguarded left leg. His sword bit deep,penetrating chain mail and flesh before Julius twisted his sword and withdrewit.

The burly man stumbled, looked at his leg then, strangelyunaffected by the hideous wound streaming blood, he turned toward Julius andflicked something on his axe. With a teeth-gritting screech, the edge of theaxe began to move, speeding up until it was a steady blur.

“Watch out, he’s got a chain-axe!” cried Calis, who had beenguarding Julius’s flank. While he stood frozen, amazed at the fortitude of theadversary before him, Calis was holding off two attackers moving in tandem,stretching the young legionnaire’s skills. He barely avoided one blow, andblocked another. Another legionnaire ran up to help the beleaguered duo, andJulius advanced to meet the seemingly invincible giant for a third time.

The Nortlander leered at him. “Come, puny Roman, let us seewhat you’ve got. My axe thirsts for blood. Your blood! ” he shouted inheavily accented Low Latin. Axe whirling, he advanced on the smaller man.

Julius gritted his teeth and, shield held across his body,circled his opponent, grasping for any way of avoiding a punishing hit from theweighted chain-axe. It would go through my shield like a saw at a sawmill.If I can waste time, that wound of his will drain him of blood .

While their men grappled on the battlements, the two leaderscontinued to jostle for position.

A wounded man’s hand reached out and grasped Julius’s ankle.He tugged and pulled, but the man wouldn’t let go. With a wordless growl,Julius swung his sword, amputating the man’s hand. In that critical second ofdistraction, the chieftain barreled into him, sending him flying against thestone and steel bulwark. Julius’s vision clouded for a second. When it cleared,he saw his men throwing themselves at the oversized Nortlander, straining tokeep themselves between their leader and his attacker. The axe killed, wounded,or forced them away one by one. Julius fumbled with his shield, using it toprop himself up against the parapet. His legs were shaking and his stomachwanted to empty itself.

“I hope you are ready, little Roman, to meet those gods youlove so much.” The colossus was right before him, gloating. With lightningspeed, he swung his axe. Julius ducked just in time, feeling the weapon’spassage like a heavy wind grabbing at his cloak. The base of the weaponconnected with Julius’s back, knocking the wind out of him again, while thestrange keening sound became more and more muffled. His fingers grasped at histhroat. His cloak was choking him! He moved his hands to work desperately atthe clasp.

Finally the clasp sprang free, the cloak whisked away, andJulius straightened, wheezing. The chieftain still stood before him, nowstaring in angry confusion at his weapon. The deadly chain-axe mewled in fitsand spurts, its teeth fouled up by the thick woolen cloak, which was nowtightly wrapped around it.

Gripping his sword with both hands, Julius advanced. TheNortlander dropped the useless weapon and pulled out daggers, long brown hairwaving wildly in the wind as he faced Julius. Out of nowhere, two steel boltsslammed into the man’s chest, punching through his burnished breastplate. Hestaggered and nearly fell. Julius swung his sword up and brought it down withas much force as he could muster. The barbarian’s head, sliced clean from hisshoulders, tumbled to the ground. His body followed, landing with a crash thatshook the parapet.

A brief pause followed as both sides stopped their conflictto gape at the fallen giant. Julius coughed. “Finish them off!” he ordered,struggling to push his voice above the sounds of battle.

Those remaining of the enemy fought on, powered by revengeand anger, but they were no match for superior Roman numbers and discipline.The last few threw down their swords, trying to surrender, but the Romans werein the grip of battle rage. There were no survivors.

The weary centurion turned to look at his savior, standingjust a few feet away. Squad Leader Gwendyrn smiled, looking abashedly down at apair of still quivering repeater crossbows. “I’ve been waiting for a chance tofire two of these at the same time.”

The gears of the elevator squeaked and squealed as theengine pulled the cargo elevator slowly up the steep side of the curtain wall.Within, the last remaining members of the rebellion, along with their Nortlandallies, prepared for battle. Word had come that the Imperial forces had surgedup from a hidden access route along the wall, fighting their way toward therebels’ last remaining lifeline to the outside world. A company had alreadybeen sent ahead to deal with the attackers. The remaining forces had neatlyeviscerated the first Roman assault with a well-placed ambush down below, andhad now fallen back to eliminate this second assault.

Tucked into a corner of the elevator, Corbus and his motherheld a brief conference. “I’ve contacted the Nortlanders, and they have theirairship on the way. It should be close, but I figure we can hold off theImperials for a while. We’ll meet up with some more of our compatriots on thewall, and kick those Romans so hard they’ll have wished they never crossed theRhine!” Amalia finished with a wicked grin.

Corbus nodded, listening to his mother’s plan while runninga whetstone across his twin bluesteel blades. The quadruple-folded layers ofrare metal created an impossibly sharp edge as well as incredible toughness.The weapon could bend and flex without developing weak spots or becomingbrittle. Polishing and sharpening it was one of Corbus’s pre-battle rituals.

Amalia looked at him and smiled. ”Soon the day will comewhen the Romans lie dying in the streets, and we will lead the Germans back fromthe trashcan of history to trample and crush them,” she said quietly, proudly.Then she closed her eyes. A strange keening rose from her throat as she startedworking herself into a battle trance, gripping the carved staff of herdouble-ended spear so tightly that her knuckles went white. Her facial musclestwitched with the barely contained battle madness, and she opened and closedher eyes without registering what she saw.

Corbus scooted away a bit, unnerved by the pseudo-mysticismcomponent of her warrior side, and raised his voice. “Friends, let us prepareourselves. We have companions awaiting us on the wall, ready to help us reachsafety. Each one of you is an asset to the cause. Do not waste your lifeneedlessly. I will take the lead. Remember our goal above all else. Get to thetransport. We are the seed of the future. If we die, our children, and theirchildren, forever and beyond, will be shackled to the wheel of industry andcorruption that is Rome.” The men nodded, knowing the challenge that awaitedthem.

The elevator hissed as it reached the top level, releasingsmall wisps of steam that the wind from the bay tugged along with it. Corbusgrasped the handles of the wicker door and slid it aside. His men poured out,quickly finding cover from which to assess the situation.

Corbus watched from his vantage point as the last fewsurvivors of the first company were slaughtered at the hands of the victoriousRomans. He cursed under his breath.

Amalia appeared next to him. “By the furies, how did they reachhere so fast?” she asked.