Chapter 2

The battle begins to clear a bit, I march forward searching for more foes but then an explosion rings out a good distance from me, an incendiary cannonball detonates in front of me releasing its payload of burning, the world goes silent as I immediately block the ordinance with my shield but the force from the blast is still enough to blow me back. I feel a powerful thud on my head as I hit the ground back first. My vision becomes increasingly blurred, I see other Legionnaires around me coated in flames, with their screams being slowly muffled by the effects of my own head slowly dying. Maybe this is my time, I will finally die. Again I am wrong as I feel myself being lifted on top of a shield as the world around me goes dark…

“Today 2 Exceptional Warriors stand before us in a bid for glory!!!” I’m back in the Capua Arena again, in my 7 year old body.

“From the frozen wastelands of the North, with the strength of the Black Bear and the finesse the deadly Mountain Lions, I introduce to you!!! Virexius The Iron Ram!!!”

The Gladiator wearing the Blue armor and horned helmet raises a sword as a salute to the deafening roar of the crowd.

“And now, a Veteran of the Mercenary companies of Iberia!!! The Bane of the Eastern Knights, the Sword of Hades, The Champion of Capua!!! Cortez The Red Wolf!!!”

The other Gladiator removes his helmet and bows to the crowd like the gentleman warrior he is. It turns out Red and Blue had real names but just when the announcer is ready to begin the fight it rains, but the crowd does not respond to it in fact nothing in the world is wet and then I look at my hands, my clothes and I realize I am the only one who is wet…

I open my eyes and see black storm clouds above me, lightning strikes in the distance as the smell of wet earth fills the air. My entire right arm is wrapped in blood soaked bandages while a medicinal gel covers my left leg. I hear the hiss of water turning to steam as the rain hits the muzzle of a carbine beside me. I sit up and look around, I realize I am in a makeshift infirmary on top of a hill away from the fighting along with hundreds of other wounded soldier. I look to my right and find a gunner lying down on the grass wearing a large bandage wrapped around a wound on his shoulder, his musket is still hissing in the rain. I look to my left and see another Legionnaire sitting beside me; he doesn’t seem to be wounded but his helmet is removed showing the burn marks in his neck and white scars on his scalp. His sword is stabbed to the ground as he busily cleans the stock of his carbine with a red rag ripped from his shirt. It’s my brother Varkii.

“Thank God you’re awake Pup, shrapnel cut your arm and some of the burning oil splashed on your leg. Thank Providence you’re still alive” He says, calling me by his nickname for me Pup, Varkii than takes a look at my carbine and asks “Did you use yours?”

“No, didn’t get the chance.”

“I shot two officers today.”

“Well I fought one, he almost got me. But someone threw a pilum at him.”

“You are a lucky sod aren’t you?”

Varkii goes quiet and goes back to cleaning the gun; I look at the battlefield and watch the rain wash the blood off the grassy slope. Behind me I hear the rumble of steam engines while the smell of gunpowder becomes stronger as the Grand Artillery crawls on its heavy treads as they move closer to fire on the retreating Persians. The Legion chases them until they make for the forest, and that’s where the pursuit stops. The Persians have the advantage there; they’ll just spray us with musket fire the moment we step into that place. I hear the distinct ring of Grand Artillery ceasing movement as its own wheel breaks and begin firing at the forest. When the cannonballs hit forest the rest of the Legion begins the advance, and then I hear a horn blow 3 times as signal men from different units echo its call. It’s the General’s signal for a withdrawal; the rest of the Legion halts its advance and withdraws but the artillery continue to bombard the forest. The General isn’t heartless; he knows there’s more than muskets and spears waiting for them in the forest.

“Faith Eaters” I mumble. I remember the first time I saw one; gigantic Persian war machines shaped like mechanical scorpions. Armed with large spinning blades attached to two arms and a cannon attached to its tail. It moved on 6 automaton legs with 4 curved blades as its feet. The veterans called it a Faith Eater after a single one made 3 Cohorts retreat, that’s a hundred men a Cohort, 300 Legionnaires defeated by a single war machine. Luckily after it was destroyed, the rest of the Persians started falling back. I guess they placed too much of their Faith on the Faith Eaters.

From a distance I see a dark haired Legionnaire wearing a bright blue strap in his right wrist; both hands bear the scars from a fire and even from this distance I could see his deep dark eyes. It’s my older brother Lurti, Varkii calls him over. When he nears he sees my bandaged arm and shoulder he doesn’t look too happy.

“What happened this time Molag? You think the Angel of Death himself has swooped down and carried you off to Paradise?”

“Damnations, Lurti. It was a damn cannonball! Half the Cohort got blown back by it! That’s the whole of squad 5 on that ledge right now!” I exclaim as I point towards a nestled group of wounded Legionnaires being tended by the medicae

“Yes I did, and I also saw nearly half of those get blown back by it stand up and drag their burned up asses to this hill. And look again Molag, there are only two of you from your squad right now.”

“Damn it Lurti! The thing knocked the hell out of me. The rest of the Cohort could be dead right now! Can’t you just be happy that I’m still alive?”

“Molag, I have survived more explosions than you have and I know very well that this one did not did not knock you out. And damn it Molag, the Cohort didn’t lose anyone. I saw squad 2 and 9 get burned, but they picked themselves up and kept marching. They’re Rookies Molag. You’re a damn veteran”

“What? You think it’s the same as the last time? You think it was the same explosions that you survived and that you’ve always bragged about? You think I don’t remember them? I was there, we’re in the same Cohort you worthless idiot! Haven’t you forgotten we’re in damn war right now? And last time I checked a war is damn well unpredictable brother”

Lurti stays quiet for a second, he wipes his brow and looks at me in an unsettling manner “Of course it’s unpredictable” he said, “But this is what angers me Molag. When that cannonball knocked down nearly half the Cohort we all did what we could to keep going but you, you just lied down.” I look at Lurti and it seems as if his eyes were welling up his tears. “You have to understand this damn war isn’t going to end any soon and all I really want is for all of us to survive, but you’re not even trying.” Lurti starts to look like he was about to let loose his tears but he doesn’t he just looks away and stands by my side and touches my shoulder. It was his way of saying sorry but my anger for him still lingered. What he said was enough for me to stab him in the gut. But he knows he’s right, I know he’s right and so does Varkii.