Devil's Sea

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Falco had the Naga staff at the ready as he went through the portal. He stumbled slightly, then regained his balance. Kaia was right behind him, and they both paused to take stock of the new environment they were in. The ground was black and grainy. The air was still hazy, making visibility poor. To Falco’s relief, there was no sign of the Valkyries, just rolling black hills all around as far as he could see. Behind them, the black triangle hovered in the air.

“Where did they go?” Kaia asked.

Falco shrugged. “I don’t know. Is this where they live?” he asked in turn.

Kaia was slowly turning, looking about, but Falco knew she was doing more than simply looking; she was projecting her mind outward. Throughout the journey, he had picked up much from her, and he knew her powers were far greater than his, especially with regard to working over a distance.

“There are others here,” Kaia finally said. “Other people.”

“Where?” Falco could sense none of that. All he knew was that this place was dangerous.

Kaia pointed. “That way.”

Falco didn’t like the idea of leaving the portal. There was no way to tell direction in the strange place, and once it was out of their sight, it might be hard to find again.

“They are in great pain,” Kaia said. “We must help them.”

“That is not what we are here for,” Falco argued.

Kaia said nothing more but began heading in the direction she had pointed. Reluctantly, Falco followed.

Cassius had fought from Britain to across the Rhine in Germany to Palestine. As a young tribune, he had even been on a campaign in Africa near Carthage. He had studied Julius Caesar’s accounts of the Gallic Wars and then served under many fine generals before receiving his own baton of command.

One of the many lessons he had learned was that the defense was the position taken by the weak, and it could rarely lead to victory. So even as the men of the XXV Legion dug into the ground with their spades at the edge of the swamp, their backs to the black wall, he gathered together every mounted man in the unit, all two hundred six.

Falco and the priestess had been gone the entire day and night was falling. Cassius was worried at the length of time that had passed, but there was nothing he could do about that except make sure he held this side of the gate. The death of Liberalius had cast a darkness over the entire camp, increasing the effect the dark wall already had.

As the sunset, he led the cavalry through the swamp. It was dark by the time they reached the other side and continued to the south.

The barbarian camp was easy to find, despite the lack of light. Hundreds of campfires gave off a glow that touched the sky and was visible from miles away. Cassius was at the head of the column, and he rode slowly, aware that it was possible for the force in front of him to have put out a skirmish line, although he doubted it. They were in their own land, and they outnumbered his forces at least four to one, judging by the number of fires he could make out as he got closer. Overconfidence. It was what had destroyed Varus in Germany when his three legions had been overwhelmed and the eagle standards taken by the barbarians. Cassius had learned as much, if not more, from studying the defeats of Rome’s generals as their victories.

When he was less than a quarter mile from the barbarian camp, Cassius halted the troop. He had already given his instructions, so the men spread out on line, lances at the ready. They moved forward at a walk, then a trot as they closed to within two hundred meters. At a hundred meters, Cassius spurred his horse to a full gallop, and the men with him did likewise.

There were no breastworks built up to protect the camp, no sentries on duty. Cassius and his men hit like a tidal wave, spitting barbarians on their spears, then drawing their swords and cutting down men as they jumped up from their sleep.

A clock was ticking inside Cassius’s brain, and when he had gone forward about a hundred meters into the camp, he yelled the order to fall back. The cavalry wheeled and galloped back the way they had come, fading into the darkness, only the bloody bodies’ evidence of their assault.

The sound of turmoil faded behind as Cassius led his men back north. He figured he’d gained another day with the assault, unless the barbarians were led by a particularly strong chief.

As he headed back to the rest of the legion, he prayed to the God Lupina had worshipped, asking that Falco and Kaia come back soon with a way to defeat the Shadow.

Falco put his hand on Kaia’s shoulder and pushed her down to the ground just short of the crest of the ridge they were approaching. He could sense it now also; the agony of hundreds, maybe thousands, just ahead. It was worse than the most terrible games he had ever experienced, where thousands of Christians had been sent to be slaughtered by wild beasts. At least then, there had been hope, emanating from their faith as they died; but whatever was ahead, there was no hope. Only overwhelming pain and despair.

Falco crawled up to the top of the ridge and peered over. He swallowed hard as he saw hundreds of white vertical tables on which were strapped down men and women. On many, the skin had been flayed away, and the body inside was covered with some sort of clear, shiny material. Their suffering was almost overwhelming, a tidal wave of pain that hammered against his mind.

“We cannot save them,” Falco said.

“We need information,” Kaia said. She pointed. “Him. He knows.”

Falco followed the line of the finger. The man she indicated was huge, his body covered with scars as befitted a warrior. But his hands were gone, severed at the wrist.

“All right.” Falco got up and ran down the slope toward the tables, his body hunched over in a crouch. He arrived at the man and quickly cut the bonds using the Naga staff. The man’s eyes opened. With the stump of one arm, he indicated for Falco to slit his throat.

Falco shook his head, pointed back up the slope at Kaia. The man frowned, then nodded reluctantly. He began heading in the direction, Falco following. The gladiator paused when there was a noise to his left. The man on the table that was across from the one he had just been at was saying something, but Falco didn’t understand the language. Falco hesitated, tempted to put the man out of his misery as he had done many times in the arena, but he felt it was best to disturb things as little as possible for now.

He hurried up the slope. When he arrived, the warrior was standing next to Kaia, his head bent over, her hands on either side.

“He knows where there are others here,” she said. “He will lead us there.”

General Cassius stood less than an arm’s distance from the black wall. A second day had gone by with no sign of Falco or Kaia. The barbarians were on the move again, closing on the legion’s position. He could pick up the unease among the men, the desire to leave this godforsaken place. But their discipline was holding, and there had been no outright signs of disrespect.

He’d tried entering the gate but had barely made it a few steps inside before the overwhelming pain in the head that Liberalius had described forced him to retreat.

Cassius blink, startled out of his thoughts. He could swear the wall was closer that it had been just a minute ago. He stared but could see nothing. He took a pebble and placed it right in front of the blackness and waited. After a minute, the black slid over the pebble. The wall was expanding.

Cassius looked over his shoulder. The earthen barrier his legion was arrayed behind was less than a quarter mile away. Beyond it was the swamp. And even as he watched, there were yells of alarm as the vanguard of the barbarian force appeared on the ridgeline three miles away.

It was difficult to judge, but he doubted they had a half-day before the expanding gate overtook the barrier, forcing them into the swamp and at the mercy of the barbarians.

Whatever decision he was going to make would have to be made soon.

Pytor had watched the man in armor free Ragnarok and then disappear out of sight behind him. Less than two minutes after they were gone, a Valkyrie appeared. It paused in front of the empty white slab that had held the Viking. It hovered there for several seconds, and then more Valkyries began appearing from different directions until there were over twenty as Pytor tried to keep track. More and more white forms came until Pytor lost count and the rows of Valkyries stretched beyond what he could see.

From his military training, Pytor could guess the reason for this unusual display of numbers. The Valkyries were preparing an attack.