Daniel Ottalini - Brass Legionnaire

Boots pounded across the concrete behind him-the last of hismen had arrived from a hatchway. “Did you activate Operation Vindicator?” sheinquired of their leader. The file leader nodded nervously.

Corbus pulled out his pocket chromation and studied thehands behind the fogged glass for a moment before showing it to his mother. “Wedon’t have much time to waste, then.”

“We have plenty of time to dispatch these enemies offreedom,” Amalia hissed.

Nodding, Corbus turned to his men. “Volley fire, crossbows,on my order.”

Up and down the wall, his men were loading and cocking theirweapons, aiming at the Romans now reforming farther along the wall toward thenorthern tower. An alert soldier pointed at the motley assortment of guerillasand mercenaries and shouted a warning just as they finished loading theirweapons.

Corbus’s sword flicked out. “Shoot!” he yelled, sweeping thesword down. The miniature storm of bolts flashed toward the Romans, catchingthem unawares. Without time to form a decent shield wall, the volley devastatedthem. A dozen men fell writhing in pain, while others stood motionless. Theofficer in charge tried frantically to regain control over his surprised men,and they stumbled into formation, placing their large scuta in front ofthem. The sun broke through the departing fog and clouds to reflect off thecentral metal bosses of their shields.

“Corbus, you get the men out, I’ll keep them at bay!” Amaliashouted as the remaining Romans began to advance on their position, shield wallpreventing the rebel missiles from doing any more damage. Corbus felt ratherthan saw his mother move past him, her warrior essence nearly flowing intobattle. Spear angled low, she charged the Roman line with a piercing wail thatdrove shards of ice into his soul and made his hands move involuntarily tocover his ears. The Romans nearly broke right there, but for the opposingofficer waving his sword frantically and shouting encouraging words to his men.Corbus could just hear the faint exultations over his mother’s blood-curdlingshrieks. A peppering of plumbatae flew past her as she dodged even thebest throws.

His men looked questioningly at him. “What are you waitingfor? We can’t let her kill them all!” he yelled at them. Shouting as one, hismen left cover and ran at their opponents.

Corbus watched Amalia launch herself into the waveringshield wall. Mother, what are you doing? he wondered as he ran after hismen. The dark red scuta shook with the force of her blows as her spear twirledand twisted in seemingly unnatural ways. Several men went down, their comradesdragging them out of the line of battle. Do you have a death wish?

The sudden arrival of a second enemy force threw thesomewhat jubilant post-battle celebrations into chaos as Julius bellowed, “ Formshield wall! ” He turned, pushing men toward the opponents. “Remember yourtraining! Keep your body low and lock your shields together!”

No sooner had he given the order than a flight of crossbowbolts neatly eviscerated a chunk of his own force. One bounced off of Julius’shelmet. Stars floated before his eyes before he shook them off. We must getinto formation, or we will all die! part of his brain screamed at him as hefought furiously to work some moisture into his dry mouth.

Julius drew his sword. Their training had engraved in everylegionnaire’s mind that it was not smart or proper to go about waving yoursword over your head in a combat situation. That was not the Roman style. Screwthe Roman style. Desperate times call for desperate measures. He leapt atopa crenellation; whirling his sword in the air and calling for his men to rally, rally to me! For a few brief moments, the line steadied, men movingshoulder to shoulder, ranks forming as they should behind them. The roughlythirty remaining men of his command clumped together across the walkway.

Julius spotted Legionnaire Faustus crouched to one side,cursing as he attempted to tie a strip of cloth around his bleeding shield arm.“Faustus! Get back and find the tribune. Tell him we need assistanceimmediately! The rebels are making a break for it!” The man gave a sketchysalute and sprinted along the walkway, hand gripping the cloth over hisbleeding forearm.

A thin, piercing howl reached his ears and worked its waydown his spine into his belly. Knees trembling, he covered his ears with hishands and felt a wetness against his palms. His men were doing the same,several falling to their knees, dropping their shields and plumbatae inthe effort to escape the ear-rending noise. “Keep together, men!” Julius triedto cry out, but it came out as a mere croak.

A woman was moving rapidly toward their line, and the soundseemed to move in response to her movements. His mind garbled frantically athim, as his spirit fought to remain strong against the overwhelming horror ofthe shrieking, It’s like one of the furies come to life. He noticed herweapon: a long, dark metallic shaft capped on either end with a wicked-lookingsickle-shaped blade. That’s something out of a bad theater production, onlyI bet that blade isn’t made of scrap metal.

He screamed, trying to overwhelm her punishing, unceasingpsychological attack. Putting every ounce of command authority he had into hisvoice, Julius dug deep down into his soul and cried out one last time, tryingdesperately to gather his soldiers. “ Hold , fellow Romans, HOLD THELINE!”

He straightened, and began grabbing cloaks and collars,pulling at his men with a strength born from the fires of desperation and fear.He shoved a few into the weak battle line, and the men gained strength fromtheir companions. Gwendyrn, blood dripping down his mustache and ontohis beard from his nose and ears, grabbed two men with his meaty hands andheaved them to their feet. He roughly shoved discarded weapons at them. The menturned toward the front line, Gwendyrn close behind, forming anunstoppable bulwark against terror.

The fury-like creature rushing their thin, red line choosethat moment to strike. Julius’s mouth dropped open as she leapt threeranks of men, landing behind the shield wall, in the midst of the shakendefenses. Her spear sliced out, wounding and incapacitating men. Julius turnedtoward another yell from beyond the wall to see the remaining rebel fighterscharging. The demi-cohort was trapped between a mob of attackers on one side,and a crazed death-dealer on the other.

Mind racing, Julius considered his options. He could try topush past the crazed Amazon behind them, or charge the rebels in front of them. On one side we lose to ferocity and skill, on the other we lose to numbers. Julius did the only thing he could think of. “Form square!” he ordered.

His men moved into position, forming a tight square with thecrenellated wall as the fourth side of the formation. The sides formed by themen were spiked with plumbatae and swords. Stragglers crawled toward them,while others limped into position just before the shields closed over them.Julius listened to the heavy panting of his men as they struggled to catchtheir breath before the inevitable onslaught, and heard Gwendyrn whisperingprayers to Jupiter above to save them. “Didn’t know you were a praying man,” hequipped.

Gwendyrn paused and looked down at him. “I just figure now’sas good a time as any to start.”

Julius considered this, then partially closed his eyes andmuttered an abbreviated prayer to Minerva, his patron goddess. Please, letus get rescued; I don’t want to die. It might have been selfish, it mighthave been self-serving, but he didn’t want to die on this black steel wall atthe age of twenty. Somebody help us!

Seeing the remaining legionnaires forming a square flushwith the wall at their backs, Corbus ordered his men to halt their charge andform ranks. His mother paced back and forth, occasionally letting loose anotherheart-tearing scream. Corbus coolly analyzed the situation. Although shaken,the Roman remnants would not go down easily. Those big shields and their tighttraining would translate to many casualties among his more lightly armored men.