Ever My Merlin

chapter 5 – LAST OF THE ROMANS-BATTLE OF AD DECIMUM

I had to get home. I had to get to him. The one small face I kept hidden at the back of my mind. The one small face Triton couldn’t beat out of me. Triton. The memories of the island began to fade as soon as I thought of them. In a short while, I would forget those bastard mermaids. I’d forget that whoreson of a king. Triton spent years molding me into his ideal of a perfect warrior. He thought he could break me. It took every ounce of my resistance not to let him.

I spent ten years in the military camps with hundreds of other boys. I wore a yellow crystal necklace that bound my magic. So I learned to beat older, bigger boys for clothes and shoes, and zealously defended my place to sleep in the bushes. The trainers only gave enough food for half of us, so I had to become a good thief and avoid getting caught, which meant ruthless beatings and nights in the pit. Succeeding in the camps meant perfecting our hunting skills by slaughtering slaves. As if that weren’t enough, I also got singled out for special training. Every once in a while, Triton would erase my memories—to the point where the only thing I could hold onto was one name, my brother’s name. Merlin.

I struggled to remember my name.

Vivane. Vane. I repeated it over and over again in my mind as I hacked away at flesh and bones with my sword. I was on a field. Blood spurted into my face, some of it splattering onto my tongue. I spat it out. I yelled a command and the soldiers behind me advanced a few steps into the onslaught of an army of Vandals.

The grisly battle around me raged. After my final year in Triton’s camps, I was released from the mermaid island back onto the mainland. My memories were taken one last time before I was dumped in Constantinople. There, the last of the Romans, Emperor Justinian of Byzantium, sought to revive the bloated glory of Rome. Escaping from slavery was Triton’s final test for me. I was bought by a Roman commander who served Justinian’s most respected general—Flavius Belisarius. The general had recently cemented his favor with the emperor by squelching a riot against the ruler. He later massacred thirty thousand protesters in a bloodbath inside the city’s chariot racing stadium, the hippodrome.

Today, we marched on the African city of Carthage controlled by the very barbarians who sacked Rome—the Vandals. The refugee Germanic tribe took down the western front of the Roman Empire and controlled it from its stronghold in Carthage for nearly a hundred years. On this fall day, we met King Gelimer’s forces at the tenth milestone, just south of the city. Our cavalry of five thousand men guarded the front and back of the column. They successfully pushed back the lighter Vandal cavalry. I stood at the front of the infantry line under my commander, Septimus, whom I would have gladly slain, if given half a chance, but I had to survive this battle. I had to buy back my freedom from the snake.

Septimus took one look at the muscle-bound, fifteen-year-old boy, wearing nothing but a simple, white loincloth and a cheap yellow crystal necklace, and paid for me on the spot. I was spared the humiliation of the slave markets only to find myself at the mercy of a man who was capable of much worse. He was also the only man who could remove the necklace binding my powers.

An army of ten thousand should have given us an advantage over the seven thousand Vandal troops, but due to the disorganization of our commanders, our ranks faltered while theirs marched deep into our lines. Septimus led our legion. With naught but a shield, a sword, and a prayer, I wore the crimson cloak of a Roman, the banner of a fading civilization, and struggled to maintain our line. Crude faces adorned in brown and grey fur, a plethora of Vandal barbarians grinned at me through broken teeth even as their blood was spilled under my sword.

Hack. Slice. Pull back. Block. Hack. The barbarians were bigger than I, but not as well-trained. I don’t remember how many I killed, but I was never one to keep count. Time passed with only the loud buzz of battle deafening my ears. At one point, I turned and saw no one at my back. Our numbers scattered and a grisly end seemed inevitable. Then, the tide turned. The Vandals, who were winning, failed to press their advantage. Suddenly, their lines began to show large gaps, while in front of us, a beacon of Roman red streaked the sky. It was none other than Belisarius himself who pulled our lines back together. The Vandals retreated, falling into complete disarray. Word spread that a Hun cavalryman, a mercenary under Belisarius, took down a Vandal prince. While they grieved, it was time for us to push back.

The stink of battle finally lessened that night. The broken bodies of men and horses lay strewn across a dusty field. Devoid of even bushes or trees, the usually arid land was finally soaked. Blood fed its parched ground. In the morning, we overtook the city.

Its citizens opened the gates without protest. Belisarius cleverly declared the people of Carthage to be oppressed Roman citizens—which meant they would be spared and not become the spoils of war. Septimus, as many of the other commanders under Belisarius who expected to make their fortune in the aftermath, was not exactly thrilled with the edict. On the other hand, any Vandal and his property, which included his family, could be taken without censure. Rumors of a great treasure, taken during the sacking of Rome and supposedly hidden by the Vandal king drove the soldiers into a frenzy as they ruthlessly sacked the city.

A few citizens protested. Belisarius impaled the head of one such wealthy landowner in front of the townspeople and the protests immediately abated. I looted treasure from an abandoned house before searching for Septimus. With my leash held tightly in his hand, he had no fears that I would try to escape.

It didn’t take long to find him. A group of his soldiers were pillaging a wealthy Vandal household near the king’s palace. The noble’s house stood several stories. As soon as I entered, I knew I found the right place. I tightened the leather strap of the baldric across my chest. The gold, which I wrested away from another soldier, sat heavily inside its pouch. A cohort of soldiers, about sixty, ransacked the spacious house. In the front room, a few feasted on fresh fruit without a glance toward the body of an old woman, possibly a nursemaid, lying on the floor. She was naked, her legs splayed wide, and her stomach was mutilated from the repeated stabs of a sword. Bending down, I drew together her tattered clothes, managing to cover just a bit of her.

“Is she to your liking, Vane?” a brawny soldier, Sergius, said from just inside a hallway. His eyes showed no emotion as he watched me. It helped not to have any in these times. He held a tankard of ale in one hand and an axe in another.

I stated the obvious. “She’s dead.”

He shrugged. “She’s still warm.”

I hid my distaste, standing up. “Where is he?”

Sergius’s lips curved up. It was not a good sign. “The Vandals have been living like fat pigs. He found much more upstairs.”

Not wanting to waste any more time on Septimus’s lackey and oft times lover, I headed upstairs. Sergius put a hand on my chest and stopped me before I could pass him. “He protects you, young centurion. You are property and therefore valuable, but if you suddenly weren’t, my men and I would enjoy taming a wild one such as you.”

Before he could blink, I had my sword at his throat. I may have been a frail boy in comparison to him, but they all knew I had yet to lose a fight. Despite the reediness of my voice, I said forcefully, “Watch yourself, Sergius. You know he won’t allow anyone else but him to touch me. He shares you. Not me.”

His hardened eyes flared with jealousy, revealing the depth of feeling he had for Septimus. I only suspected their trysts, so inside, I crowed. Now I had the upper hand. My lips curled into a sneer. He didn’t resist when I shrugged his hand off me. I added silkily, “Besides, I doubt you would have the… stamina to hold me.”

Surprise and a spark of lust lit in Sergius’s eyes.

I smiled. I’d learned quickly to play with the enemy. Sometimes I even enjoyed it.

Sergius’s rage was unveiled as he spat, “He’ll tire of you soon, once you’re all used up.”

Careful to keep my sword up, I took a step to move past him. “Or you are.”

“We understand each other.” Sergius smirked. “I would give it a few minutes before you interrupt him. He’s busy.”

A knot twisted in my belly at his words as I hurried through the house. Beaten servants, the lucky ones, cowered in various corners of the house, trying to hide from the carousing soldiers. I found Septimus in the largest bedchamber. He’d taken off his white plumed helmet, revealing a pretty face topped by black hair, sprinkled with strands of grey. A golden breastplate over a white tunic protected his lean chest. Steel greaves and armor covered surprisingly strong legs, including the knees. His sword was tucked into his belt. Its blade was dirty with blood. In his hand, he casually held a curved knife.

Septimus was standing over a canopied bed. Against my better judgment, I went into the room. A woman in fine clothes sat on the bed. She was bound and gagged. The top of her gown had been torn to reveal a thin shift and bare arms. Slashes covered the length of them. Septimus hadn’t taken her yet—he would—but for now, he was simply playing.

His gaze turned on me. I had to stop myself from recoiling. He’d tortured another slave-girl to death just weeks earlier and was wearing that same lust-crazed expression. Boy or girl, it didn’t matter to Septimus. Only pain mattered.

Septimus’s lips curved up. “Ah, Vane, there you are. Meet my bride, the Lady Aldith. She’s a little noisy, but I have been rectifying that quite pleasurably.”

“It’s noisy everywhere,” I commented.

“Good. The men are enjoying themselves, as they should.” Narrow eyes watched me. “Did you?”

I returned a pained look. “I prefer things… a bit cleaner.”

To my relief, he chuckled. “The barbarians do stink like swine, do they not?”

I crossed the length of the room, eyeing the woman. She wore a resigned expression. At least she wasn’t dead. Though, it might have been better for her if she were.

Confined as I was at the time, I hadn’t help that slave-girl and I didn’t know how to help this one. Septimus made me listen to the slave-girl’s horror. He would make me watch the debauchment of this one. I didn’t want to think about what he would force me to do… all because I wasn’t strong enough to free myself. Frustration gnawed at me. My fingers tightened on my sword, even though I knew it was useless.

For a second, I pictured myself hacking off his head with a blade. I would make it slow. I wanted to hear the satisfying break of his neck. I blinked and the picture receded. Of course, I’d never get close enough. The bind he used to control me was impervious to steel.

Septimus, his Roman face etched with arrogance, grinned at me as if he knew my thoughts. He probably did. Not that he minded. It just excited the twisted bastard.

A whimper drew my attention to the other side of the bed. A delicate-looking boy, a few years younger than I, huddled on the floor with his knees up. Something about his too-old eyes reminded me of my own brother. I glanced at Septimus. He followed my gaze and now wore a twisted smile—no doubt enjoying the boy’s terror as much as the mother’s. Rage choked me, but I long ago trained myself not to show any signs of it.

Turning an indifferent expression back to Septimus, I said, “You’re looking for something.”

Septimus beamed with approval. I swallowed my nausea. He put a hand on a bedpost. “The Vandal’s treasure. It is rumored that a great bounty was taken when the barbarians sacked Rome. Gold and jewels from all over the world, going back to the time of Alexander of Macedonia. Such treasure would do much for my coffers.”

“How do you know it’s here?”

Septimus laughed. “A piece of it is here. The Lady Aldith has an aristocratic ancestry. She is related to the royal line through Hildrec, Gelimer’s cousin. He was the deposed king who brushed elbows with Justinian himself. While I have no doubt that the bulk of the treasure was taken by Gelimer when he took the throne, these nobles find ways to keep their fair share. Such a share is hidden in this house. I have gleaned as much from Lady Aldith. She is not well accomplished in the skills of guile.”

I took off my baldric and threw it down on the floor at Septimus’s feet. The coins clinked heavily on the stone floor. “You can add these to your coffers. I believe it will cover what you spent on me.”

As I expected, Septimus quickly grabbed the baldric. He opened the pouch and drew out a greedy handful of gold coins. “Nicely done, Vane. Where did you find it?”

“A noble’s house. A few doors down.”

“From just one house. It confirms their treasures are abundant.” Septimus looked at me. “Still, centurion, you are much more valuable than a mere bag of coins.”

The caress in his tone when he called me by the title he chose for me made my skin crawl.

Septimus smiled, the soft lines of his face disguising the monster lurking inside. “If we were to find such a grand treasure, its worth would be immeasurable…”

A lure. Yet, what choice did I have? Every soldier in this house owed fealty to Septimus. Even if one dared to stand against him, he would surely be skewered for his heroics by the larger army. I touched the threaded necklace at my throat. “Allow me to talk to her.”

“Yes, allow him,” Sergius said from the door. He stomped into the room. His hulking form stopped just behind me. He put the axe at the back of my head. “I will take care of him if he misbehaves.”

“Of course.” Septimus laughed. I held my breath as he reached to take off his necklace. He drew out a small green crystal, the bane of my existence, the key to my cage. I yearned to reach for it and yank it from his slimy fingers. I must have betrayed myself because Septimus’s mouth curled up. He let the necklace fall back on his chest with a dark grin. Blue eyes met mine. They glinted with the knowledge of the power he dangled over me. They gloated. He said slyly, “No, it would be too easy. I have yet to see anyone withstand Silvertongue for more than a few seconds.”

I wanted to put my fist into his smug face. I wanted to beat it into the ground until nothing remained but torn flesh and bone. I took a sharp breath. He smiled as if he knew what I was thinking. He probably did. The bastard would probably enjoy it. The morning sun rose higher in the sky. It stained the sky red, a reflection of the battlefield it oversaw. However, the true aftermath of the battle happened in places like these dark, dank little rooms that muffled the screams of horror from within. I stared at Septimus. “What do you want me to do?”

Septimus’s eyes glittered. “Ask her nicely.”

Don’t damage anything that could be seen. I drew out a knife from my belt. I walked to the bed. My hands, already dirty with the crimes of the day, were about to become dirtier. Reaching the bed, I put a knee on it. The terrified woman scooted back, trying to get as far from me as possible. Shiny brown hair, bountiful and flowing, curtained most of her face. Eager to get a good view, Sergius moved to stand just below the foot of the bed. I grabbed her ankle. She resisted. Despite my thin frame, she was no match for me. I pulled her forward easily. With the knife, I sliced through the thin membrane of her gag.

Huge eyes locked on me. She didn’t make a sound.

If my fingers trembled, I ignored them. With Septimus in my mind, I calculated a dizzying number of scenarios, but none would work where I had no magic. Anger coursed through me and I asked silently for help. Any help. With my eyes on the woman, I gave her ankle a sharp twist. Bones crunched. She screamed.

The boy on the floor jumped up. He held a shaky knife in his hand. Before he could lunge at me, Sergius caught him by the scruff. He laughed. “I think I might take this one, if you don’t mind, Commander.”

I dropped the lady’s fractured ankle and lunged at Sergius, knocking the boy aside. I kicked Sergius as hard as I could in the groin. Letting out a howl of pain, Sergius doubled over. The next thing I knew, I was flying across the room. My back hit the wall hard. Without touching me, Septimus yanked me along the rough stone floor until I landed somewhere near his feet. On the floor on my side, my body curled into a ball and shook with pain. Septimus gripped the green crystal—my chain. It glowed with cruel power.

He walked closer and shoved me with a sandaled foot, flipping me over on my back. “I am disappointed, Vane. You forget to whom you belong to.”

My body was shuddering under the pressure of a thousand nails digging into my skin, but I managed to crawl to his sandaled foot. I clutched it. “F-forgive m-me.”

Septimus’s lips curled into a satisfied smile.

Behind the wall, next to the spot I slammed against, I heard a muffled sound.

Septimus heard it too. He let go of the necklace and turned on his heel. The green crystal dulled and so did my pain. I sighed with relief.

Septimus said, “There’s something behind this wall.”

Only one adornment, a bright red tapestry covered the length of the wall. It depicted a woman, possibly a deity, with a lion’s head. The lady wore a bow across her chest and held a cup in one hand. On the lion’s forehead a white crescent moon was stitched.

I pushed myself up and forced myself to walk without stumbling until I reached the tapestry. I ripped it from the wall. The jagged stone blocks of the wall gave nothing away. I ran my hands over its rough surface.

“I see nothing,” Septimus murmured.

Then, I spotted it. An inconsistency. A layer of dust covered most of the wall except one small block at the bottom, which seemed unusually clean. Leaning down, I pushed at the block hard. It sank into the wall as a line of the door popped open. An arrow flew from within the hidden opening’s dark abyss. If I hadn’t been crouching on the floor, the arrow would have torn through me. Instead, it sank with unerring accuracy into Septimus’s neck.

To my shock, the arrow penetrated. It had no trace of magic.

Septimus didn’t have a chance to scream. His vocal chords were instantly severed, and he could only manage a weak gurgle before falling to the floor.

“No!” Sergius cried.

The boy holding him took advantage of the moment to wriggle out of the brawny soldier’s grasp. The boy’s mother jumped off the bed toward her son. It was a mistake. Another arrow flew from the hidden room. Sergius dove to avoid it. His axe swung and hit the mother squarely in the chest. She fell back on the bed.

I grabbed the green crystal dangling from Septimus’s torn throat. I put it against a small, shiny, metal piece on my thread necklace. The metal stayed. I noticed the green crystal had cracked on Septimus’s fall. With a loud curse, I slammed my hand into the cold stone floor.

My body shook, rage battling with despair. So close, I was so close to freedom I could taste it. Yet, I couldn’t feed.

Another arrow flew with deadly accuracy at my head.

“Sphara!” I cried. To my disappointment, nothing happened. No magic. I remained bound. Inches from me, I knocked the arrow away with my sword. Pushing aside the defeat, I stood up and focused my mind. Septimus’s key should work. It should free me. The blasted crystal binding my magic should come off. Again, I tugged at the crystal on my neck. It didn’t budge. Then, I had no more time to think.

“You are dead, centurion.” Sergius grunted behind me. He lunged, swinging his axe at me. I kicked him again, in his groin. As he doubled over, I lifted my sword. I could have easily sliced his throat. A movement at the bedside caught my attention. The boy, his innocent face, peered at me with wide eyes, and I hesitated for a moment. One moment. Then, I ran Sergius’s heart through with the sword. He made gurgling sounds as I pushed him off my blade with a foot. The dead soldier fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood.

I turned to the boy. “It’s all right—”

The boy grabbed a fallen knife and hurled himself at me. I flexed my fingers and said, “Zyayti.” Nothing happened. I could have cried. Instead, I cold-cocked the kid. He crumpled to the floor. I caught him before he hit the ground and put him on the bed. Mustering up my energy, I grabbed a candle and went into the hidden room.

Light illuminated a room stacked neatly with shining coins and bejeweled artifacts. The amount of gold had me swallowing my own tongue. However, the true treasure stood in front, guarding the bounty. Flickers from the fireball glanced off the flaxen highlights in the hair of a small child, roughly four years of age. Garbed in a dress of fine purple, her tiny, piquant face held a bow with a notched arrow. My savior.

I mumbled, “Rescued by a little girl. I’ll never live this down.”

The pointed end of the notched arrow followed me as I approached her. It was her last arrow yet her big brown eyes, identical to Lady Aldith’s, watched with unworried defiance. Her nose wrinkling, she favored me with a truly adorable frown.

“I’m not a girl, Roman,” she spat at me. “I am a princess.”

I raised a brow. “Nor am I a Roman, princess. I am Briton.”