FIFTY-NINE: FIRST NIGHT

  Torches lined the edge of the parapets as legionnaires held the line from the elevated positions that the packed dirt offered them. The longer spears gave them the reach to stab down and impale the imps as they came racing up the hill from every side. Corpses were piled high enough that Cassius worried that the beasts would start using them to bridge the ditch and spikes that ran around the hill.

  “Any sign of them slowing?” Vira asked as she came from the center of camp dressed in full armor and carrying a long spear. While both of their levels were greater than anything that had so far shown up, it was still free experience for them to reap when they eventually went down to receive their blessings.

  “None. Nothing serious has shown up either. Most of these are in the middle of their tier. I have only seen one that looked like it could be close to the pinnacle, but it stays on the edge of the forest,” Cassius said, pointing downward where he had last seen the lurking beast.

  “It is good that the temperature is not as it was when we were here. That witch’s doing I have no doubt,” Vira said. Cassius nodded along, agreeing with her assessment. Whatever the creature had been, it had been powerful and skilled.

  “I fear that the ramparts of dead will allow them to cross over. We will need to do something about it,” Cassius said.

  “Mother said the [Varangians] will be taking a shift. You will get to see the might of the senatorial guard finally,” Vira informed him. Cassius grunted and squinted as he saw shadows shift near the edge of the forest before they settled again. A sense of uneasiness festered in his chest about the constantly shifting shadows and the weakness of the imps.

  “Is that fool Hostus upright yet?” Cassius asked, only partially paying attention. Vira leaned over and stabbed a wounded imp that had strayed toward their section of the line. Its innards had already been falling free of the gaping wound in its stomach, Vira’s attack nothing more than a mercy stroke.

  “The [Medicus] healed him and he will be leading the detachment if mother overheard them properly,” Vira said as she flicked the spear and threw the caustic blood to the ground.

  “Something is wrong here. I can feel it in my gut,” Cassius finally admitted after a long moment of silence.

  “You have been acting strange since I told you of my betrothal,” Vira said with a grunt of annoyance.

  “What? No! The imps!” Cassius spluttered, heat rushing to his cheeks as he shook his head. There was no place for him to be thinking of what the strata did with once another.

  “Ahhh, now I have shamed myself. We have a duty to perform,” Vira said. There was plenty of recrimination in her voice, but Cassius had no time to deal with the drama of the nobility as more and more the sense of something being wrong grew.

  “Have you seen Marcus or Valeria?” Cassius asked as he thought toward the other tier twos.

  “No. I think you and I are the only second tiers awake right now unless my mother or Lady Victoria have yet to fall asleep,” Vira said, pausing a moment before asking.

  “What is it that disturbs you so?”

  “The imps are dumb, that we know. But they do have an animal cunning and can be directed. You can not see it, but the way they have been attacking has nearly filled the ditches and covered the stakes. None of their larger brethren have come forth or any other tier-two beasts like what we encountered. I can see things moving near the edge of the tree line, but not fully,” Cassius said.

  “I shall go and alert the watch captain.” She was gone the next moment, long strides eating up the ground as she disappeared into the camp. Cassius kept his attention focused on the hillside and the treeline while shaking his head. She had been acting strange since her mother’s proposal and it had little to do with him.

  Cassius only had a moment of peace before the familiar braying of a jackass reached his ears.

  “You stand alone and above all so easily that you think you can hold this section by yourself?” Hostus’ voice stirred anger in his chest as Cassius turned to look back at the man and a seven other senatorial guardsmen as they walked toward his position.

  That there was an entire century standing along the line with him let Cassius know exactly what the [Varangian] thought of his fellows. Aside from Hostus there was one other [Varangian] and six [Praetorians] who stood behind them with long polearms and swords on their belts.

  “I am the watchman for this section of the line. Nothing more,” Cassius half-told the truth as he watched the men walk up the ramp of dirt to look over the bloody hillside.

  “This is what slaughtered your line? Animals at best,” Hostus scoffed. Red tinged Cassius’ vision as he throttled the urge to throw the smirking guard down the slope of the hill amongst the beasts.

  “Peace, Hostus. We have work to do,” the other [Varangian] chided. The woman lifted her hands up and mana began to glow around her fingers a moment before fire burst to life between her hands. At first it was only a spark, flickering in the dark of the night but it grew rapidly. From something the size of Cassius’ nail to a fist, then to a head.

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  Red and orange flames swirled and danced in a tight ball as the [Varangian] looked down upon the hill before opening her curled fingers and shoving her arms forward. The night burned as fire raced down the sides of the hill, consuming flesh and crushed vegetation in equal measure as the chill of the night was replaced with heat. Cassius closed his eyes and took a step back as screams rose up as imps burned to ash.

  “The difference between you and I,” Hostus sneered quietly as he stood up on the rampart, hands spread apart similar to his companion as a spark began to dance between his fingers. Already Cassius could see the difference in the slowly growing ball of fire as Hostus’ was more chaotic. It was not a tightly bound ball of flame but a corona of power that lashed back and forth in between his palms.

  Cassius took another cautionary step backward as the flames grew wilder around the [Varangian] heat beginning to bake the ground. Hostus’ frame became a solitary figure as light grew around him as he continued to pour power into the skill until it was near twice the size as his compatriots. His feet moved on their own accord, pulling Cassius further back and below the ramp of earth as the senatorial guard stood there and began to laugh quietly.

  “Real power that eclipses your inflated stats. I will be into that dungeon and push my way into your tier and then we will see who lays in the dirt then,” Hostus whispered, his voice harsh as he looked over his shoulder at Cassius. The sneer fixed to his face stiffened as his body jerked upright.

  Cassius’ sense of foreboding exploded as he lifted his new shield around himself and poured all his mana into [Reinforce] as he saw the bloody steel arrow emerging from Hostus’ back. Red light of his mana warred with the orange flames as Cassius knelt down and angled the shield right as the world exploded.

  A blast of power slammed into him as heat washed over the rampart. Screams rose up as the smell of burning and cackle of flames spoke of pain unending. Cassius felt his face burn from the heat as if he’d stuck his head into an oven. He closed his eyes reflexively and activated [Regeneration] to send bolts of relief through him as he was tossed backward like a ragdoll, bouncing off the ground and rolling to a stop.

  Screams and shouts mingled with the ringing in his ears as Cassius slowly groaned and rose to his feet. Even with his mana protecting the shield it was hot, burning through the wood and searing his skin, forcing him to drop it to the ground. He looked over where he had been standing with two lines of the century guarding the hillside and saw nothing but baked earth.

  Where before there had been eight senatorial guards and twenty legionnaires were nothing more than charred dirt and lumps of molten steel. A roar came from the forest on that side of the hill, distance doing little to rob it of its strength. Choruses of primal screams echoed it while Cassius started toward his position as red skin slowly healed, the pain distant from his thoughts when he looked at his burned up spear, tossing it away as he drew his dungeon sword.

  Heat baked through his boots even with [Reinforce] keeping them from burning as he walked up the rampart, ignoring whatever it was that crunched under his weight. Cassius reached the top of the rampart and looked down at the hillside. His heart sank through his guts as he saw the edge of the forest as it burst forth with life, hundreds of pinnacle imps ran forward with long loping strides that ate earth at a blistering rate. Behind them came the swollen devourers scattered around as they waddled forward in the sea of dark chitin.

  A tree swayed and broke with a thunderous crack, falling slowly to crush a pair of imps too slow to move. Eyeless the devil strode forth, uncaring of where its armored boots landed. Chains drug furrows through the soft forest soil as it worked its way towards them with slow lumbering steps.

  “Cursed gates,” Cassius whispered as he looked around the horde that had burst forth from the tree lines. While this horde was deadly, they had not wielded a bow that had killed Hostus and set the conflagration loose. [Hunter’s Sight] tugged at his attention and he looked at the boughs along the edge of the forest. There the shadows were thicker, dense as a cloudy night.

  “TO ARMS!” Cassius roared as he spotted the glint of steel flashing forward. He threw himself to the hot ground and the arrow whistled over his head. He couldn’t tell if they were more of the assassins or some of the archers who had hunted them and he couldn’t bother to figure it out as he rose into a crouch and shouted again.

  “TO ARMS! TO ARMS!” His voice bellowed across the camp and through the chaos of the explosion of the detonated spell. Legionnaires were rushing forth in haste as centurions and tribunes attempted to install discipline through the crowds with little success.

  A legionnaire further down the line stiffened and fell as an arrow pierced his helmet and exploded out the back of his skull. Then another one, and then another. More screams and men sliding backwards to take cover behind the dirt walls as they cried out asking for commands.

  “Shit.” Cassius looked around to see if Marcus and the growing century of second-tiers were close by, but the press of bodies was too much to see through.

  “HOLD!”

  The camp stilled as a presence washed over them. Cassius could feel his own scattered thoughts solidify, coming to a cohesive line as he turned to look back at the hill and the swarm of monsters so close he could nearly reach and touch them. They had moments before the beasts hit the edge of the charred defenses.

  Invictam strode out of his tent in full armor as men began to rally around him. Orders were followed and lines snapped into place as a fresh cohort raced into position, forcing Cassius off the mound of dirt and back toward the center of the camp and Invictam. A sense of control and stability washed out from the General in a wave that reached further and further out.

  “What happened?” Invictam asked quietly as one of his tribunes took command of the line just as the imps hit. Red mana flared bright as the shield line held against the imp charge. Spears thrust out in the next moment and the sound of ripping flesh drowned out his next thoughts.

  “Hostus went up there to clear out the dead bodies with a fire spell. He grew it too large and an archer feathered him which caused the spell to detonate. The enemy charged at the same time,” Cassius said automatically, his mouth reacting even as his startled mind, still reeling from the sudden change, refused to function.

  “What are you doing?” Cassius asked as he pushed dwindling mana into [Unyielding Spirit]. The haze of cohesiveness faded away and his true feeling and thoughts rose to the surface.

  “Holding my legion together. Get the superbia from my tent and get ready to go where I tell you. I can feel something powerful out there.” The General’s voice was calm as if he was remarking about the weather rather than having a massive attack on his camp.

  “Yes, sir,” Cassius ground out as he fought against the sense of cohesive duty that tugged at him constantly. The further he got from the general the less of a strain it was, but it never left even as he went to the tent to find the superbia planted in the center of the tent on a freshly forged metal T-shaped holder.

  “You see now why I watch him,” Attia whispered from her seat on the cot. The quiet woman rose from her seated position to look at where Invictam had been standing, peering at the side of the tent as if she could see right through it.

  “I know nothing.” Cassius spat to the side as he grabbed the heavy metal holder and lifted the superbia free of the ground before turning back toward the sounds of the battle.