The Trumpets of Mars (Imperium #2) - Chapter 14

Devnum

Lucilla ducked back from Cynwrig’s swing, whipping her wooden practice blade around in a slashing motion, coming down under his swing in a counter, and for a second she thought she had him until his knee tapped the side of her temple.

She knew that, if he’d wanted, he could have dropped her with the blow, knocking her out or even smashing pieces of her skull into her brain. The Caledonian who now served as one of her protectors had partially taken over her training from Modius, who wasn’t thrilled by the substitution, but deferred to her judgment.

Besides the point that it was one more step in her own small efforts towards nation-building, Cynwrig made the excellent point that the Caledonian way of fighting was markedly different than the Roman style. While he agreed, grudgingly, that the Romans were better in massed formation, he argued that the Caledonians were more skilled in one-on-one fighting, especially in the chaotic melee like the one that occurred during the attempt on her life. She’d been swayed by his arguments, and genuinely interested in learning a different style. The more she’d practiced with her guards, the more she’d found she both enjoyed the experience and found the subject fascinating.

She also realized quickly how lucky she had gotten during the wrestling match. At the time, she thought he’d just been young and inexperienced, prejudging him just as much as he’d prejudged her. It was only sheer luck that his underestimation of her had been the greater mistake of the two or he would have easily beaten her.

“No, stupid woman. Only a fool leans into their enemy, extending their necks like a lamb prepared for slaughter.”

Modius frowned at the clear breach of protocol, but Lucilla stood up and just nodded at the correction. She understood that Cynwrig didn’t mean it as a personal attack; it was just the blunt nature of how the north men dealt with things.

“If I lean back, I wouldn’t have the range to do more than scratch you with the tip of the sword.”

“You need to reposition your body. Don’t just stand still and bend over, turn as you bend, and away from the cut, giving you the range with which to reach your opponent without offering yourself up as their next victim.”

“I see. Let’s do it again.”

She set herself up to go again when a voice screamed in her head.

“Lucilla, we …” Sophus began to say, and then abruptly cut off.

Every time she’d heard the disembodied voice speak, it had been calm and evenly measured, with no sense of emotion. This time, there still wasn’t a sense of emotion, at least in the way she thought about it. But the volume and speed that the message started with and then abruptly ended gave her the strong feeling of something major being wrong.

It had been so sudden and loud, that the attack she had just started turned into a stumble, ended with her flat on the ground, thankful that her reflex response was to put her hands out and keep her face from smashing into the ground.

“Are you alright?” Modius asked, rushing to her side to help her out.

“Something’s happened,” she said, without really thinking.

She knew, deep inside her, what had happened. Although she still didn’t understand the mechanics of it, Sophus and Ky had made it clear how much danger the two of them were in from whatever invisible force was smashing them together into one being. Sophus’s sudden alarm and then silence could only mean that the thing they’d warned her about had happened.

Of course, none of the men around her knew about her invisible friend and the danger it and Ky were in.

“Were you injured?” Cynwrig asked.

“No. Ky’s in danger. I must go see my father.”

She turned and hurried towards the palace, still holding her practice sword, the guards suddenly rushing to keep up with her.

Her father and Velius were in a private session with the Pontiff Maximus and several lower priests, sacrificing a pair of goats as part of a ceremony to gain the gods’ favor in the upcoming battle. All of the men turned suddenly, and had very different reactions.

The Pontiff Maximus, a pompous man who Lucilla had never gotten along with, turned red and looked ready to yell at her for interrupting the ceremony while the under priests all looked to him, knowing the man’s legendary temper, especially with women.

Her father, however, cut the man off when he pushed himself up and moved to his daughter, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Even without the obvious distress on her face, it would have been clear that she was in some kind of distress. She was in a simple, loose-fitting knee-length tunic he knew she wore during her training session and was still holding her wooden training sword. It made for a strange sight compared to all of the men in the small temple to Zeus dressed in a ceremonial toga and regal accouterments.

“Something’s happened to Ky. I need to go north and find him.”

“Was there a messenger?” Her father asked, turning to Velius.

Since no one knew about her connection with Ky, her father and everyone else would have assumed anything he needed to communicate with them would have come by messenger, and any messenger would have been one of the praetorian or legion men, since that was who was still up by the border.

“No, Princeps.”

“I didn’t receive a message, I just know that he’s in trouble and needs help.”

“My Lady, I know you care deeply for the Consul, but I’ve seen him in the thick of battle with no blade touching him. I assure you there is nothing in the north that could put him in danger.”

His tone was respectful and she was sure Velius had good intentions, but besides not having all of the information she had, he had some of the same prejudices against women that most of the men in Rome had. They were all ready to dismiss her concern as foolish female hysteria.

Thankfully, her father knew both her and Ky better than that. He’d received some of Ky’s magic, even if Ky refused to call it that, when he was healed by one of Ky’s devices. Now that she had some of the small devices that Ky had released into both her and her father, she knew how much better they could make someone feel. It was impossible to distinguish it from mystical god-like powers, and Ky and Sophus had tried to explain the small machines to her. This gave her father some notion of Ky’s abilities.

“Father,” she said, looking at him levelly, her tone even and steady. “I’m telling you he’s in mortal danger.”

“Legate, get together a century,” he said to the commander, making it clear he was taking her report seriously.

“It’s not the kind of danger that soldiers can fix. I can’t explain it, but I know he needs my help. I am going to him … today.”

“My lady, we’ve picked up two more scouts. The Carthaginians are coming, and they’re coming soon. I don’t think they’re waiting for all of the snows to melt anymore. The Consul left you in charge and we need your guidance. Besides, even with our new allies, the roads are dangerous, especially if you travel north of the border. If something does happen to the Consul, I’m not sure the Empire can survive losing both of you.”

“I appreciate your reliance on me, legate, but I’ve been at every council of war and several of your training maneuvers, and you don’t need me. You know Ky’s battle plan as well as I do, better actually, since I can’t appreciate some of the tactical specifics the way you can. I appreciate your concern, but I will have Caledonian guards as well as Roman, which should help offset any problems once we cross the border, so what is your actual concern?”

Velius looked away. They both knew his concern was her going off by herself again. While she might be able to write it off as a reaction to what happened to her the last time, she knew a good part of it was just also the built-in prejudices towards women by all Romans, regardless of their position in society or who their father might be.

“Father?” she asked when the legate declined to answer.

“As always, my concern is for your safety. Regardless of the number of guards you take, there is danger.”

“I think we’ve seen there’s just as much danger if I stay here. I am touched that you are worried about me, but we need Ky if we are going to survive what’s coming. We all know it. I’m going to go get him.”

As with any daughter, she and her father had pitted their wills against each other before. Sometimes she won those battles and sometimes her father had won, but that history meant she knew he recognized that she would not give in. She gave him a look that made it clear he would have to physically restrain her to keep her from going after the man she loved.

“Take extra men with you and first go and meet up with the Caledonian leader, so he knows you’re there. I will send a message for you to take to him that will make it clear that I am holding him accountable for your safety.”

She nodded in agreement and turned, hurrying back to her quarters to change into more appropriate clothing for traveling and prepare for the trip north as Modius gathered the men they’d need.

Within ten minutes of reaching her quarters, Lucilla was ready to leave and growing increasingly impatient waiting on Modius to show up and let her know the guards were all ready to accompany her.

Part of her just wanted to leave and let the men catch up, but she refrained from following that impulse. After the death of Norbanus, Modius had demanded she promise to not travel from place to place without guards, and he’d only redoubled that insistence after the attempt on her own life.

She also understood what was taking so long, since besides men and equipment, he also had to gather at least basic supplies such as food for the travel north. When she’d arrived at her quarters, he’d reminded her of her promise before leaving, and she’d reminded him that they needed to travel fast. What that mostly meant was not trying to acquire a carriage or some other transportation, which would both slow them down and take time to find. She knew he didn’t like the idea of her just traveling on horseback. Unlike her previous guard commander, who’d died getting her out of Glevum shortly before she met Ky for the first time, Modius was a stickler for social niceties and frowned like an old matron at the thought of Lucilla lowering herself to some commoner standard.

So she waited, growing increasingly impatient, until finally there was a knock at the door.

“It’s about …” she started to say as she flung the door open, only to stop in surprise when she realized Modius wasn’t the person knocking on her door.

“I came to tell you that I and some of the men who traveled south will be returning north with you,” Llassar said in his normal straightforward manner.

“What?” she said, her mind still catching up from the unexpected vision. “Sorry, but I thought you were going to remain here and see to the training of your men, and lead them into battle.”

“I have men handling the day-to-day training who are already working with some of your soldiers to integrate our forces. Our men are able to continue on a task without needing someone to hold their hand, and I do plan on being back before the death worshipers arrive. I only need a few days to confer with Talogren and then most of the men and I will return. Your Consul is also north and plans on being back before the battle, so I don’t see this as much of a problem.”

Had she known Llassar had come to genuinely like some Romans she would have thought that dig was more of an insult than it was. She’d gotten to know the Caledonian well enough to know that it was just his personality and general mistrust of anything he didn’t grow up with, and not an actual animosity to his new allies.

“I, of course, would love your company on the road if you feel it’s important, I’m just at a loss as to why you’d need to confer with your chief. He sends you down to train the men and have them work with our soldiers to fight off the Carthaginians. Despite everything that’s happened, that hasn’t changed. I was under the impression that Caledonians didn’t need the constant reassurance and hand-holding that my people did.”

Llassar let a small smile slip through his stoic mask at the last comment, which was very much something he would have said if their positions were reversed, before slipping again into a practiced non-expression, or so Lucilla first thought.

After a moment, she realized that it wasn’t his normal face, but one of concentration, almost as if he were arguing with himself or coming to a decision. It was a subtle difference, but it was there.

“I do not like playing nursemaid, even to my own men,” Llassar said. “I was never one to handle this kind of thing back home and am ill-suited for it.”

“Really? I was planning on telling your chieftains what an amazing job you have done so far. Incidents between your people and mine are at a bare minimum and those that do happen are minor and from everything I can see the training and integration with our forces is going as well as could be. You seem very well suited for this.”

“Being good at something and being well suited for it are not the same thing,” he said, almost as a tutor might lecture his student. “I, of course, can do what is required of me, but I would like to be doing something else. Talogren and my countrymen are fighting to bring the north under Caledonian rule, and I am here reminding bored warriors to be on their best behavior. I should be there, fighting.”

“There will be lots of chances for fighting,” Lucilla pointed out.

“You misunderstand me. I’m not one of the mindless brutes who just want to kill something. I meant I want to be fighting for something important, like my people are doing up north, right now. I plan on asking Talogren to release me from my current duty and return to help pacify the north.”

She’d been serious when she’d said he’d been doing a good job keeping control of the north men now living among the Romans. The two cultures were very different and she had been amazed by how few conflicts and problems there had been, and it was clear that his controlling influence had been the largest contributor to keeping problems from escalating.

She’d met some of his lieutenants and, while they were good men, she didn’t think they had the talent or the same level of respect needed to do the same. Of course, if the man was miserable, it wasn’t right to force him to stay here. As the Emperor’s daughter, she’d been put in the same position many times, forced to carry out an important task that she loathed.

There was also the fact that this is the most personal thing he’d shared with her to date. Since she’d met him, the man had been a closed book. He didn’t have a problem expressing opinions about specific topics, but he’d never shared any part of himself. The fact that he was sent to lead this group spoke to how important he was among the Caledonians themselves, and this was a big step towards their working relationship.

“I see. Well then get what you need to together quickly. I would like to leave as soon as Modius returns with the supplies needed for the trip.”

Llassar nodded and left. For an outside observer, it might have seemed curt, but she thought she could detect a slight glimpse of gratitude at her acceptance of his explanation. Of course, it was hard to tell with him.