The legionnaires and crew waited with bated breath, staring at a dim red signal light attached to the side of the airship’s aft portal. Constantine knew that the wait, though seemingly interminable, was a good thing-Captain Alexandros was positioning his airship as perfectly as possible to help his passengers with their landing.
Briefly closing his eyes, Constantine reviewed the mission parameters in his mind. The cohorts from each airship had been tasked with taking a specific objective in the city. The 13th Cohort’s objective was the anchorage itself, two long piers with a host of warehouses and dry docks for ship construction. I’ve spent a lot of time talking about exactly where I want us to be set down. Let’s hope Captain Alexandros can deliver on his promises.
“Tribune Appius, sir. The go signal.” A crewmember shook the tribune’s shoulder as he nodded toward the light casting a green glow over the deck and the faces of those waiting. Constantine noticed Centurion Caesar and Junior Centurion Gwendyrn watching him hesitantly. Are they green with nerves or green with light? Only one way to find out!
Nodding, Constantine turned to face his men. “Good luck. Don’t split up. Stay with your officer. And if you do get lost, for the gods’ sake, don’t run around shouting. Move quietly and quickly. I’ll see you on the docks.” With that, Constantine turned back to the open section of the railing and waited while a crewman patted down his harness and gear in the final check.
“Got your slider in the right way?” the crewman asked as he fiddled with the carpteneo. Constantine nodded.
“Flares are being launched now!” the deck officer whispered from behind him, where other crewmen were checking legionnaires. Bright spears of red light shot forth, then hung over the unsuspecting city.
Constantine leapt off the side of the ship.
He slid backward through the cool night air, the lights of the town rushing up below him. He slowed his descent as the light from the flares showed him the landing zone far below. Even so, the descent was over quicker than he could have imagined, and he set down in a plaza of damp cobblestones. Light and sounds of merriment spilled from one of the buildings across the way-a tavern. Constantine looked around for any signs of a night watch or town guard. Nothing. Good. It’s easier when there isn’t anyone waiting to spear you, he thought as he got his bearings. Other legionnaires were landing behind him.
He fiddled with the heavy gadget strapped to his back. It was a new type of shield designed especially for the drop troops. Strapping the large steel box to his arm, Constantine found the winding gear and rotated it a few times. Segments rotated outward, each sliding into place like a piece of pie around the central boss. When he finished, he had a perfectly functional shield that weighed less than a standard one and allowed him free movement while descending the rope.
He craned his neck, trying to see where the other units had landed. The ropes were invisible against the night sky, and the tall buildings on either side kept him from judging how far away the rest of his men were. He hoped they would maintain discipline and not do anything stupid, particularly Centurion Caesar. Hopefully Gwendyrn will be able to keep him out of trouble.
Constantine formed up his demi-cohort and opened up the small folder map he kept in his arm guard, trying to orient himself by the dim light of the flares and streetlights. Finally deciding on a direction, he led his force east toward the narrow, sheltered harbor.
They clomped through the streets, their boots ringing against the cobblestones, until they reached a crossroads. Timber buildings three and four stories tall rose on either side of them. Constantine could smell the salt of the ocean air. A shutter opened above them and there was a splash in the street. Another, more earthy smell joined the salt breeze. Nose wrinkling, Constantine looked up at the window in disgust. A few of his men snickered behind him.
Just then, a city watch of sorts rounded the street corner. Of course it would happen like this, Constantine thought, studying the motley crew before him. He couldn’t decide whether they were actually a city watch or simply a group of barbarians on the way to or from a tavern.
The biggest of the men called out to them: “Vem går där?”
The language sounded harsh to Constantine’s ears. Knowing that none of his men could make a credible reply, Constantine drew his sword and charged at the surprised men. Even taken unawares, they still put up a fight with bare knuckles and brutally punishing hits. The legionnaires surrounded them like wolves, hacking and slashing without a moment’s reprieve. Constantine ducked a particularly hefty blow that rang off his shield, numbing his arm. He slashed back, severing the arm and then stabbing into the hairy body beyond.
Wiping the blood from his spatha, Constantine took the chance to check their position. The sounds of conflict were now filtering through the streets. Up ahead, a bell began clanging urgently. The sounds of shutters being thrown open and shouts and curses filled the street. Constantine quickly gathered his men, posting a few to watch the streets while he gave instructions.
“We have to make it to the harbor. We can’t get bogged down. Onwards!” One of his legionnaires raised a hand. “Yes, Legionnaire Adueinus?”
“Sir, what do you want us to do about civilians?”
Constantine realized they had been given no orders about civilians. After a brief moment of hesitation, he replied, “We’ll try to avoid them. If they come at you, defend yourselves, but for heaven’s sake, don’t stab or kill anyone who isn’t doing anything! We don’t need an insurrection on our hands. Any other questions?” There was a brief lull, a few shaking heads.
“Sir,” interrupted one of the sentries, “I’ve got movement at the end of the street.”
That settles it. We’ve got to get to the harbor before we get swarmed. “Okay men,” Constantine said in his most authoritative voice, “let’s go steal the harbor from right under their noses.”
Chapter 5
Julius
The first indication that something was wrong was when Julius hit the roof instead of a street. The bone-crunching impact jarred Julius’s carpteneo from his grasp. Without a way to slow his descent, Julius fell three stories onto the hard cobblestones. Only the fortuitous presence of a hapless pedestrian saved Julius from sure death. The man squawked as he broke Julius’s fall, and they both tumbled to the ground.
Julius felt his left leg twist awkwardly. By the gods, that hurts! he thought, then muttered some choice words that would have gotten him a slap from his mother as pain shot up his leg. He did a quick check of the rest of his body, then pulled himself to his feet using a nearby cart as a crutch. Still gripping its side, he hopped along it to a small bench and eased onto it to unknot his bootlaces and probe his ankle. Stars swam before his eyes at the pain his fingers found.
Legionnaires were still dropping from the airship. Sub-Centurion Gwendyrn had followed Julius, managing to shimmy off the roof without injuring himself or losing his slider. Thinking on his feet, Gwendyrn dragged the rope over and tied it to a solid beam at the front of a house across from the building he and Julius had encountered. The rest of the men slid in a gentle arc toward a safe landing in the street. Seemingly unaware that his commanding officer was injured, Gwendyrn muttered something about “officers taking a break while the locals do all the work.”
“I heard that. You look nothing like the locals. You even smell better,” Julius said. “Besides, you’re Junior Centurion Gwendyrn-you’re an officer too!”