Fallen Legion Page 20

  "Damned fool," Marcus growled. "I've listened to your rantings for long enough"

  It took little effort for Marcus to free himself from the remaining three sets of chains which held him down. As Vulcan had promised, the implements shattered and fell to pieces with only the slightest effort. Once free, however, it took a nearly superhuman effort for Marcus to lower his feet off the table and onto the ground. His body was utterly drained of strength, and the hunger pangs which tormented him were almost insurmountably strong. It was only with the aid of one hand bracing him against the table that Marcus was able to peer into Luskilos' black leather bag. Sure enough, sitting on top of a small pile of torture implements was the familiar golden-handled, ruby encrusted dagger which had been given to him so many months ago. With an unsteady hand, he pulled the dagger out of the bag, clutching it close to his chest as he whispered a quick prayer to all the Olympian Gods.

  The prayer was interrupted by a crashing thud at the door. The wooden door shook and shuddered under an apparent blow from the outside, but the portal held. A second thud shook the door even more violently; splinters flew and cracks appeared along the door frame. Marcus released his grip on the supporting table, struggling to remain upright as he pulled his body into a combative stance. A third and final thud at the door forced it from its hinges, knocking the entire door to the floor. As the door landed on the ground, a large black-clad figure leapt through the opening, stopping only feet away from Marcus. The figure's reaction to seeing Marcus standing there was not what Marcus was expecting - the man reached behind his head and pulled off the black scarves which obscured his face. The scarves fluttered to the ground to reveal a familiar, grinning face which Marcus had never expected to see again.

  "Who were you expecting," Vincenzo said, "Cleopatra?"

  Chapter XIII

  "Vincenzo," Marcus said. He staggered back a step, grabbing hold of the table to steady himself again. "I thought you were dead."

  "I nearly was," Vincenzo said. "Now, are you planning to put some clothes on, or is this whole standing around naked and trembling thing just your way of trying to seduce me?"

  "I don't have any clothes," Marcus said, rolling his eyes. "Even if I did, I'm not sure that I've got the strength to put them on. You don't have any food on you, do you?"

  "Of course," Vincenzo said with a snorting laugh. "I always make a habit of carrying a royal feast in my back pocket. Do you want the roasted lamb or the pork?"

  "If you don't quit being a jackass," Marcus said, "then I'll carve you up and have you for dinner." Marcus made a half-hearted little carving gesture with his dagger.

  "And that makes me feel so frightened. In fact, I'd probably only feel more threatened if you could actually stand under your own power."

  "Even if I'm as weak as a six year old girl, I can still outfight you."

  "Keep talking," Vincenzo said, "and maybe you'll convince yourself of that. Now, come with me. I think one of the door guards was about your size, and I'm sure I saw a storeroom down the hall with something to eat. Probably mouldy bread and dried-out meat, but you look like you're ready to accept anything."

  Since he was too weak to argue any further, Marcus simply followed Vincenzo out the door. Walking proved to be more of a challenge than Marcus had expected - he had known that the days of hunger and confinement had left him in a weakened state, but he hadn't imagined the sheer strength of will that he would need to move. He settled for a jerking stagger which alternated between bracing himself against the wall and weaving left and right in an almost drunken tilt.

  As Vincenzo had predicted, one of the two soldiers who had been standing guard outside the torture chamber was nearly identical in stature to Marcus. Both of the guards had been laid neatly against the wall, slumped over to look like they were dozing off. In fact, had Marcus not pushed them aside and seen the puncture wounds at the base of their skulls, he would never have known that they were dead.

  "Nice clean kills," Marcus remarked as he stripped the clothing from the smaller of the two guards. "Small wounds; looks like you pierced straight into their brainstems. They died too quickly to even fight back. But how in Hades did you get behind them to deliver that kind of a blow? They were guarding this room; their backs should have been to the wall."

  "This is a pair of bored sentinels that we're talking about," Vincenzo said. His voice was as matter-of-fact as if he had been talking about his breakfast. "They were easy enough to distract. One their backs were turned, the blows were easy enough to deliver."

  It quickly became apparent to Marcus that he would only be able to don the soldier's tunic and pants; the armour was far too heavy for him to wear in his weakened state. A pity, he thought, for I'm sure that the armour would come in handy. Still, it's better to make due with what I can manage than to fret over the things I cannot change.

  "This is a good start," Marcus said as he pulled the tunic on over his head. "Now that I'm clothed, can we find that food you mentioned? Once I've got a little food in me, we should have no trouble fighting our way out of here - even with your limp-wristed antics."

  "Those 'limp-wristed antics' were good enough to get me in here to save your ass," Vincenzo said. "Of course, if you'd prefer, I can call for the guards and leave you to fight them alone. We wouldn't want me getting in the way, now would we?"

  "No need for that. I'll let you fight with me - no sense in me hogging all the glory for myself. Besides, I have a feeling that you'll want to see what I've got in store."

  "You mean falling over and clawing at the guards' kneecaps? Yes, I'm sure that will be a fearsome tactic. They will undoubtedly fall on their own swords rather than face the possibility that you might end up drooling on their boots."

  "Unless you want me drooling on your boots, I suggest you lead on to the storeroom you mentioned earlier."

  "Fine," Vincenzo said with a sigh. "It's this way."

  The storeroom Vincenzo lead Marcus to was little more than a tiny closet whose shelves held a few crusty loaves of bread and jugs of dirty water. The culinary inferiority did not dissuade Marcus from grabbing the nearest loaf of bread and tearing ferociously into it with his teeth, wolfing down bite after bite of the nearly black substance and washing it down with swigs of water which smelled like it had been sitting in the closet for years.

  "Tell me," Marcus said between frenzied bouts of chewing and swallowing, "how many guards did you kill on your way in? I need to know how many we'll need to take care of to get out of here."

  "Just the two that were guarding the room you were being held in," Vincenzo said.

  "Just two? How did you sneak past the others?"

  "Do you realize that prison duty is considered the lowest possible position for those few Roman soldiers who still serve Julianus Vestatian? None of the guards here are terribly motivated to be alert. It was a minor matter to sneak past them; since I was able to get by them without catching their attention, I didn't see the need to kill them. Why draw attention where it is unwanted? Piles of corpses in the halls would raise an alarm so massive that the place would be swarming with Sicambrii so quickly that I wouldn't have even the most remote chance of rescuing you. You may not understand the concept, but sometimes discretion is the better part of valour."

  "Spoken like a true assassin," Marcus mumbled through a mouth filled with half-chewed bread. "Anyway, it just means more for me to kill. Good.

  "So, what have you been doing for the last year? The last time I saw you, you were charging headlong toward a group of Sicambrii warriors - throwing caution and discretion to the winds. How'd that work for you?"

  "Not very well," Vincenzo said. "I survived the fight, but barely. I killed four of them before suffering enough wounds that I was unable to fight any further. I made a strategic retreat to my home, bandaged my wounds, and spent most of the next year in recovery. I bear scars from that day, and have been looking forward to getting the chance to repay them.

  "Of course, once I had healed enough to be
able to fight again, I went to the inn to find you, Domitian, and Vito. It turns out that you had all left town, apparently forgetting all about me."

  "We didn't forget about you. We just thought that you had died in battle," Marcus said.

  "I'm sure you did. I'm sure my funeral was very impressive," Vincenzo said hopefully.

  "I'm sure it would have been," Marcus said, "if we'd had one."

  "You didn't even have a ceremony for me? You didn't even get a priest to mumble a few words of prayer to guide my spirit through the afterlife?"

  "No."

  "What if I'd actually been dead? I could have gone for all eternity without any sort of remembrance or monument! You would have just let my sacrifice be in vain!"

  "I guess it's lucky that you weren't dead, eh?"

  "You," Vincenzo sputtered, unable to even finish the sentence.

  "Oh, relax. You know full well how urgent our mission to overthrow the Sicambrii is. There isn't always time to say a prayer for every person who may have died in battle. It's unfortunate, but true."

  "What if you had just been left to die in this prison? What if I hadn't come to rescue you? Would you have expected some sort of ceremony to honour your life?"

  "I'd like to think so," Marcus said, "but I certainly wouldn't be angry if such a ceremony never took place. Look, Vincenzo, you need to understand the big picture here. This battle for Germania Inferior has only just begun. Many more people are going to die, and if we stop to have a funeral for each and every single one of them, our defeat will be assured. When the battles are over and won, when we have taken back control of what is rightfully ours - it is then that we will have the opportunity to mourn for our dead."

  "I guess that's fair," Vincenzo said. "But if you think I die again, you'd bloody well better at least say a prayer. Seriously, if I really do die and nobody takes a second to grieve for me, I'm going to come back and haunt you for the rest of your days. I'll make your life such a living hell that you'll long for whatever was happening in that room to happen again.

  "While I'm on the subject," Vincenzo said hesitantly, "what did happen in that room? I mean, it looked like a torture chamber, but I've never seen a torture chamber where the victim isn't at least strapped down, and every time I've witnessed someone get tortured, there were inevitably some sort of wounds afterward."

  "There were wounds, and I was strapped down. It's a long story, and I don't think you'd believe me if I told it to you. If you really want to hear it, I'll tell you once we're out of here. For the time being, I think we have better things to do," Marcus said as he finished wolfing down the last loaf of bread from the shelves. He took a long draught from one of the jugs of water and rose to his feet. This time his strength didn't waver; Marcus knew that he would need to expend his energy wisely, however, for whatever strength he had gained from the bread would not last forever.

  "The stairs are this way," Vincenzo said, motioning to his right. "Move quickly and quietly, and maybe we can get out of here without causing a huge disturbance."

  Three Roman soldiers walked around the corner before Vincenzo had even finished speaking. They were almost entirely engrossed in a joking conversation, but not engrossed enough to prevent one of the guards from spotting Marcus standing in the middle of the corridor. The shocked look on his face was enough to confirm that he knew exactly who Marcus was, and where Marcus should have been.

  "Or not," Vincenzo said with a disgusted sigh.

  Marcus twirled his dagger in his hands, flipping it over and holding it by the blade. The soldier who had recognized Marcus seemed to recover enough from his shock to warn his companions. The world seemed to move in slow motion as Marcus hurled the dagger through the air at the first soldier. Tumbling end over end, the blade shot through the air, stopping only when it buried itself to the hilt in the soldier's neck. He gurlged incomprehensibly, clawing at the weapon lodged in his throat even as he dropped to the floor. The other two soldiers, who had remained utterly oblivious to the world until that point, reacted with surprising speed. Both drew shortswords immediately, dropping to their knees to assess the situation.

  They're better trained than the Sicambrii, Marcus though with a small amount of satisfaction. Good. I'd hate to think that the quality of our legions had diminished since Agrippinensis. Of course, I just threw my weapon away, leaving myself unarmed in the face of two armed attackers. Maybe it's my skill that has declined, rather than theirs.

  Fortunately, Vincenzo was at no loss for weaponry. He drew a shortsword and leapt forward to engage the pair of remaining soldiers. Slipping past Vincenzo, Marcus tumbled into a somersault, snatching his dagger from the throat of the fallen soldier as he tumbled. Vincenzo managed to mount a simultaneous defense against both soldiers, parrying every blow that the two soldiers aimed at him. He could not, however, manage to slip past their combined guard, leaving the three men in a standoff of clashing steel. Marcus regained his feet as he snapped out of the tumble, twisting around backward to slip his dagger into the niche of the second soldier's armour where the side plating met the underarm. The blade slipped between the armour's plates and pierced the soldier's flesh, forcing the hapless man to whirl around, hoping to face his attacker. Marcus instinctually ducked the soldier's blow, and Vincenzo took advantage of the sudden opening in the soldier's defenses. He parried another blow from the third soldier, and then slashed his sword downward into the second soldier's skull. Fragments of his skull and brain matter splashed up from the wound, splashing over Vincenzo and the third soldier in a grisly spray. Marcus grabbed the third soldier by the throat while he was still reeling from the visceral reaction to the grey matter which had splashed him. Yanking the soldier's head backward, Marcus drew his dagger in a straight line across the man's exposed throat. Marcus' dagger sliced through soft tissue and veins, cutting the soldier's throat straight through to the bone. The soldier's limp body fell to the ground lifelessly, landing haphazardly across the bodies of his fallen companions.

  "Damn," Vincenzo said with a laugh. "Just like old times, eh?"

  "Not quite," Marcus said. "Give me a week to rest and regain more than just a hint of my former strength, and then it will be like old times. With me in my weakened state, it's more like equals fighting side by side, rather than a glorious warrior and his unimpressive sidekick."

  "And which of those two am I?"

  "If you have to ask..."

  "Well, maybe the 'glorious warrior' would prefer being left to his own devices to fight his way free of this place," Vincenzo said with a smirk.

  "Like I said before," Marcus said, "I think I'll allow you to share the glory of this conquest."

  "That's the second time you've referred to what we're doing as something other than a simple escape," Vincezo said. "Just what do you have up your sleeve, Marcus?"

  "I don't have anything up my sleeve," Marcus said with a smile. "However, I do have a surprise planned that will, if everything happens as has been foretold, strike fear into even Julianus Vestatian's heart."

  "I take it that it's better off if I don't ask too many questions."

  "That's a good attitude to take. When we make it to the foyer of the building, follow my instructions very carefully, and everything should go smoothly. Now, where did you say those stairs are?"

  "Just up the hallway and around the corner," Vincenzo said. "It's unguarded, and will take us right up to the ground floor. From there, I suspect we'll be in for something of a running fight. The place was crawling with guards when I snuck in; I was able to avoid them, but with you in your present state I don't think that will be an option."

  ""I'm sure you're right," Marcus said. "But it doesn't matter. These are the same miserable sons of whores that have done their best to hold me here after my wedding was invaded and the Temple of Venus was desecrated. That they will die at my hand is a foregone conclusion."

  "I don't think you quite understand," Vestatian said, leading Marcus down the corridor in the direction he had indicated. He
peeked around the corner and, satisfied that no guards were waiting to hack them to tiny bits, indicated for Marcus to follow him. "There are probably a dozen guards waiting in the foyer; we'll likely have to fight our way through half a dozen just to get to there. At any point along the way, if an alarm is raised, we could have as many as fifty seasoned Roman soldiers rushing in to take us down. This isn't going to be easy."

  "No," Marcus said. "But it's going to be fun."

  Shaking his head with a mixture of bemusement and mild disdain, Vincenzo held up his hand, gesturing for Marcus to stop beside a simple wooden door. Vincenzo placed one hand firmly on the hilt of his shortsword, and gave the door a gentle push inward. As the door swung open, Vincenzo slipped through the crack, eyes wide open and looking for danger. Several seconds later, he reached through the doorway into the hall, beckoning for Marcus to follow him. Marcus complied, shoving the door aside and stepping into the stairwell. The stairs were narrow and steep, and Marcus had to stop several times to catch his breath. The seemingly epic climb came to an end several floors later, after what seemed like an eternity climbing step after step after step.

  Vincenzo stopped at an unmarked door, placing his ear against it to listen to the noise in the hallway beyond.

  "How do you know -"

  "Keep quiet," Vincenzo whispered. "I've got a good memory. This is the floor we're looking for - trust me on that. Now shut your mouth. If anyone on the other side of this door hears you talking, we'll be dead before we even clear the doorway."

  Fortunately, no soldiers were waiting on the opposite side of the door; Vincenzo slipped through unnoticed, followed by Marcus. The pair crept slowly through the apparently abandoned hallway, stopping every few feet while Vincenzo listened for signs of guards. They proceeded through the halls in this way for nearly ten full minutes before Vincenzo pulled Marcus into a nearby alcove.