Xersia grunted and nodded approvingly. “Good.”
Corbus eyed him.
“Swords make things too fancy.” Xersia pulled a massivechain-axe over his shoulder. Holding it one-handed, an impressive feat ofstrength, he placed it against the largest piece of apple remaining on theground. A calloused thumb clicked the activator. The minute engine inside theaxe whined to life, and the small, serrated teeth started moving, makingapplesauce of the apple core. He grinned at Corbus.
The assassin smiled back. “Have I mentioned how happy I amthat we’re working together on this mission?”
A few minutes later, the hapless 7th and 9th Cohorts fromthe XIII Germania appeared through the fog, individual legionnaires solidifyingfrom ghostlike shapes into detailed men as they approached the rebels’ ambushposition.
A massive construct lumbered out of a mist-shrouded sidestreet, dew glinting on long steel tusks and an articulated trunk. Theretrofitted mechaniphant seemed to shake off the condensation as it approached.Fustus, the gangleader in command, put his wrists together and twined histhumbs, then turned the hand signal elbows-up in an inverted sign of theAquila, indicating “death of the empire.” A surprisingly realistic imitation ofan elephant’s trumpet erupted from the mechaniphant’s mechanical speakers as itbowled appalled legionnaires over like pins. Corbus joined in the cheer fromhis men as they fell upon the hapless cohorts.
The slaughter commenced.
Squinting down at his map, Constantine remembered, for aboutthe tenth time, that he needed to go to the speculafabricor for a new pair ofspecs. Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, he stared around at theall-encompassing fog, then checked his chromation. Almost eight o’clock! Thefog should be burning off soon. No sooner had that thought popped into his headthan he felt the first gust of a sea breeze pushing its way through the fog. Itwhistled down the alleys and side streets, bringing the sounds of battle to hisears. Constantine cocked his head, listening. Should he try to divert his menfrom their path to assist their comrades? Or should they push on? He stoodbetween the two columns of men, pondering, when a legionnaire ran up to him,and his choice was suddenly made for him.
“Sir, we’ve reached the wall. It appears … well, itappears empty, sir. May Zeus strike me down, but I’d swear there were nodefenders!” The soldier appeared as surprised with this good turn of events asConstantine was.
There was no stopping the advance now. If his men could takethe wall unopposed, they could take their objective and go to the aid of theircompatriots.
Constantine jogged forward to the front of the line. Menwere gathering around the scaffolding, while several scouts moved up thehaphazard construction. Looking up at the incredibly high wall, Constantinewondered what they would find once they reached the top.
Centurion Hoagar, from the 11th Cohort, waved a greeting ashe worked his way through his idle men, bellowing, “Make way there, I say, makeway! You, you, and you-detail some men to watch our flanks and rear. Don’t wantto be ambushed while climbing a ruddy great staircase!” Squad leaders gaveorders and several files of men marched to the rear.
Julius approached. “Sir, what are your orders? Do you wantus to push ahead? Scouts indicate that the way is clear.”
The tribune tilted his head and gave this several minutes’thought. The centurion wet his lips, preparing to probe for a response, butConstantine spoke first. “The 13th will take the lead. The 11th will remainhere in support. Once the 13th has secured the battlement, we’ll signal thego-ahead,” He pointed to a large cargo elevator hidden behind an ironframework. “We’ll use that to bring up the 11th faster. But we’re goingto have to take the stairs. Prepare the men for a hike.”
As Julius saluted and marched away, a messenger ran up.“We’re ready to move, sir. Eleventh Cohort has taken defensive positions andthe scouts have pushed ahead. We’re just awaiting your Go order.”
Constantine nodded, and followed the messenger back to themain body of men. He ordered them forward, into the dense maze of wood and steelscaffolding. It was like moving through tunnels-heavy cloth was draped on thecity side to prevent men or material from falling through; opposite lay theslick steel wall, pitted here and there with rust that was constantly beingcleaned out and painted over with rust-resistant paint. The scaffolding ziggedand zagged; at the end of each level, they would ascend to the next via a steepramp. As the men scrabbled up each level, their pace slowed. Even Constantinefound the climbing tedious and repetitive: wall on the left, canvas on theright; wall on the right, canvas on the left.
He paused for a moment to push aside the heavy canvascovering for a view of the city. The fog was almost gone, and he could clearlysee the once beautiful city now marred by fire, smoke, and destruction. Hecalled the column to a halt. “Take five minutes, rehydrate and check yourequipment,” he ordered. “Centurion and squad leaders, on me.”
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.