This Fire Burns - Chapter 22

[July 31, 2007]

For ninety-nine percent of the legionnaires about to march out today, this was a chance to etch their name into the legion’s history, to claim glory in fire and ichor. The kind of day you told stories about to your children. If any little shit growing up in New Rome had the audacity to complain, they’d get hit with a ‘Back in my day I fought hordes of monsters and still went to training the next day!’ or something like that.

Basically, it was the most important day of their lives. But for me, it was Tuesday.

Literally. Today was actually Tuesday. And while we were about to leave the safety of Camp Jupiter and kill what was probably gonna add up to several hundred monsters, that wasn’t exactly new territory for me. I’d done it before with just a single teammate. Now I was doing it again with an entire cohort to back me up.

Did we really have to do this at dawn?

All five cohorts were gathered at the Columna Bellica, the “war column” that stood right next to the Temple of Bellona. The area around the temple symbolized foreign soil, and it was here that war would officially be declared. To make it official, a special type of priest called a fetialis had to throw a blood-tipped javelin over the column. Unfortunately, Rome had downsized a bit over the centuries, so instead of an ancient war priest, the duty fell to the augur we all knew and hated.

The Praetors stood on the temple steps, currently giving a final speech to the departing cohorts to boost our morale.

“For too long, the monsters have festered on our borders!” Marcus roared, pulling my attention back to the speech. “They believe they can get away with hunting down aspiring recruits before they reach the safety of our walls! They seek to kill our brethren while they are vulnerable! Today, we march to save our future! To declare that this land belongs to Rome!”

It was a little over the top, but then again, Marcus looked the giddiest I’d ever seen him. The Son of War, about to declare a war. More power to him.

I leaned in toward Jason, keeping my voice low. “Hey, when was the last time the legion declared war? Like, officially?”

Keeping his eyes fixed forward, he murmured back, “It’s been a long time. We don’t have organized enemies the way the Roman Empire used to. I believe the last official declaration was during the American Civil War.”

“Wait a minute. What about the World Wars? Those were much bigger.”

“Though many demigods were soldiers, Rome itself never chose a side in those wars.”

“I see,” I said. “Were we on the Union’s side for the civil war, at least? I’d hate to find out we were the ones fighting for slavery.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “The records from that period… a lot of the details were erased by the gods for some reason.”

“You are the children of gods!” Marcus bellowed, bringing our attention back to him. “For the glory of Rome! For the honor of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata! And for the safety of our home!”

“ROME INVICTA!”

The shout from over three hundred voices in unison shook the ground beneath our feet.

After the echoes died down, Serena stepped forward. “Augur. The honor is yours.”

Octavian moved to the front, holding the ceremonial javelin. He looked even scrawnier than usual standing there alone.

Can his noodle arms even get it over the column? It’d be hilarious if he failed, but a real shitty omen.

Octavian took a breath, muttering a prayer, and reared back. He threw it with everything he had. It wasn’t breaking any Olympic records like most demigods could casually do, and the form was atrocious, but the javelin managed to clear the column and stick point-first into the patch of dirt on the other side.

War was declared.

“And now, the cohorts will depart,” Serena announced with her usual calm authority. “The First Cohort will proceed through the Caldecott Tunnel to Berkeley. The Fifth Cohort will take the southern pass through the hills and begin their sweep of Oakland. May the gods watch over you all.”

The other three cohorts raised their fists in salute as we prepared to move out.

I turned to Jason one last time. “Make sure no one dies. It’s not a win if it’s not flawless.”

His expression was steady. Confident. “Of course. I’m the Centurion. I won’t let that happen while I’m around.”

I nodded. As the Fifth Cohort began to march toward the southern hills, I straightened my back, brought my fist to my heart, and gave them a traditional Roman salute. They returned it instantly.

Don’t get sappy now. They’ll be fine.

Once they were moving, I jogged over to join the ranks of the First Cohort. The older legionnaires looked ecstatic, practically vibrating. The younger ones looked stunned.

“... is coming with us!”

“Just like the old days.”

When I got to the front of the column, I found Marcus standing with Titus and Maria.

“Praetor?” I asked, blinking.

Marcus saw my expression and grinned. “It didn’t feel right for both Praetors to sit comfortably in the Principia during an operation of this scale. So I will be joining you. What better cohort to march with than my former one?

“We discussed it when the mission was first announced,” Titus explained, showing an emotion other than sternness for the first time. “We wanted to keep it a surprise for the veterans until the last minute.”

“Serif,” Marcus said, gesturing for me to join them at the front. “Accompany us. I’ll brief you on our initial plan of engagement as we march.”

I nodded. “Sure thing.”

Wouldn’t be the First Cohort if they didn’t already have a detailed plan for everything. Still, having the two sons of Mars leading the assault meant things were going to be better.

And I’d be sticking to the plan. There were no games this time around.

------------------------------

Dropping a sixty-demigod cohort into the middle of Strawberry Creek Park was like lighting a beacon for every monster on this side of the Bay Area. 

On the way in, I’d been given the simple job of providing air-cover while the cohort set up our base of operations. It was a fairly easy task since the number of monsters hadn’t ramped up yet, so I just spent my time flying around and incinerating the early arrivals.

The plan that Marcus and the centurions had drawn up was easy enough to follow. The cohort had been divided into four squads, led by Marcus, Titus, Maria, and me. The math seemed to work out perfectly: sixty legionnaires, four squads, fifteen to each, right? Wrong. My designated squad consisted of, well, just me. 

My role in the plan was basically a refined version of our war games strategy: a free-roaming asset of disproportionate response. Complete and total autonomy. If any of the other squads found themselves in the shit, it was my job to make sure they survived to see tomorrow.

“Alright, fortifications are complete!” Marcus called out from the center of the newly formed camp. “Scout, status report!”

“All clear, Praetor!” a lookout shouted from atop one of the wooden watchtowers. “No movement spotted within the immediate perimeter!”

Maria turned to address the rest of the First Cohort. “Take a few minutes to rest and check your gear, but stay sharp. The fight can start at any moment.”

As I landed, I took a moment to actually look at what they’d built.

A perimeter of sharpened barricades encircled the camp. Two twenty-foot watchtowers provided overlapping sightlines. Two large medical tents stood ready, stocked with the ambrosia and nectar we’d hauled in. And all that in just fifteen minutes. 

It was undeniably impressive. Every Roman legionnaire was trained in basic engineering, and we built and besieged complex fortresses every week for the war games, but seeing it done in the real world was different. Hell, if we really had to, the entire legion could probably break down all of Camp Jupiter and rebuild it somewhere else in three days flat.

Doing all this in the middle of a mortal city would normally get us arrested, but Serena had us covered on that front. Apparently, the mayor of Berkeley was in the know about the godly side of things, or at least susceptible to the Mist and decided it was better to let the army of superpowered teenagers handle it. Serena had sent a delegation to have a little chat with him a few days ago, which led to an entire section of the city being cordoned off for “emergency infrastructure assessment.” Better yet, they’d arranged for a massive cache of building supplies to be waiting for us at the park when we arrived, so we didn’t have to carry anything while marching.

A few minutes passed by before everything started.

“Contact!” the scout yelled. “A tribe of Laistrygonians five blocks out from the north! Count is eleven!”

Almost immediately, the scout in the opposite tower followed up. “More contacts! Nine Dracaenae from the south-east! And fourteen Stymphalian Birds approaching from the south-west!”

“Bravo and Delta squads with me,” Marcus commanded without a moment’s hesitation. “We’ll take both groups from the south. Archers from Charlie squad will join us temporarily to deal with the birds. Alpha and the rest of Charlie will intercept the giants to the north.”

It hadn’t been a surprise to find out that the First and their former Centurion preferred using the actual military alphabet. At least they gave me Alpha. Because they clearly knew I was the alpha male.

I jogged over to where Maria was quickly reorganizing her now smaller squad. “How do you wanna do this?” I asked. “Your group’s down to fifteen, including the two of us.”

She adjusted her grip on her pilum. “I want you to fly ahead and keep the giants’ attention. Laistrygonians are known to rip up chunks of the ground and use them as projectiles. If any of those hit our line before we close the distance, we’re done. From the sky, you can dodge and counterattack without getting close.”

“Alright, no prob,” I said, cracking my neck. “See you in a few minutes.”

I launched myself skyward as the Charlie squad locked shields and began a rhythmic march, forming a standard testudo beneath me. It would take them longer to get to the fight, but at least any stray rocks wouldn’t fuck them up.

Hovering high above the street, I watched the giants lumber toward the park. They were massive, eight feet tall on the lower end, with heavily tattooed arms. Two of them looked up and spotted me, then bent down and ripped up chunks of the street. They mashed the asphalt and concrete into crude, spiky balls, roared again, and hurled them at me.

I banked left, diving out of the way.

Bruh.

The lumps of debris missed my previous spot by a wide margin, smashing into a billboard thirty feet away.

Right. Big, dumb, and ugly is their whole thing. Of course they’ve got shit aim!

My hand drifted down to my chest, tracing the flame emblem of my necklace. I poured a surge of heat into it. The metal warmed, unlatching and expanding. In a flash of red and silver, Sol Aeternus formed in my grip.

The giants tossed more of their makeshift cannonballs at me, roaring in frustration. Each one missed just as badly as the first.

Deciding it was about time I returned the favor, I pointed my sword at them. Thin beams of concentrated fire shot out, piercing through a Laistrygonian’s skull. It dissolved on the spot. The other giants roared in panic, scrambling for more ammo.

Maybe I’ll call this a death beam? Like Frieza.

I fired again. Another beam, another giant down. Then a third. A fourth. By the time I saw the disciplined formation of the Charlie squad marching into view down the street, I’d reduced their numbers from eleven to six.

The remaining giants noticed the advanced testudo and hesitated, caught between the flying threat above who was effortlessly wiping them out, and the armored unit marching toward them. Letting them fight directly would be dangerous, so I descended on the cracked pavement between them.

The giants, maybe thinking they had a chance now that I was on the ground, charged at me. I met them head-on. As the first one swung its club, I swung Sol Aeternus in a wide arc. The white blade met the thick wood and passed through without slowing, then passed through the giant’s midsection. Both halves of the club and the giant’s top half slid away from its legs a moment later before it all dissolved into dust. 

Bellona’s blessing is so damn nice! No need for me to channel fire to boost its power.

With five of them left, I heard the rhythmic, stomping march of the Charlie squad behind me. Three of the Laistrygonians turned their attention to the new arrivals, proving they were much smarter than their brothers who’d decided to focus on me.

“Brace yourselves!” Maria’s voice rang out.

The shield wall held firm as the three giants slammed into it from the front and sides. The legionnaires methodically jabbed with their pila from the safety of their defensive shell, working in perfect coordination. I could never be part of something so tedious, but hey, a win was a win.

One of the idiots still with me tried to sucker punch me while I was watching. I caught its fist on the flat of my blade and blasted a fireball straight into its face.

The sixth and final giant in my immediate vicinity did something truly special. It actually jumped at me, arms outstretched like it thought a flying tackle was a good idea. I didn’t even need to move for that one, just raising my sword straight up and letting it impale itself, its own momentum doing all the work.

That’s gotta be the number one contender for the dumbest death of the day, though I’ll have to give it a few hours.

The last giant battling the Charlie squad let out a final groan as it collapsed. 

“Clear!” Maria yelled, making her squad lower their shields. She then turned to me. “Good work, Serif. You already finished most of them before we could get here.”

“Mhm, you guys handled yours perfectly too,” I replied, willing my sword back into its necklace form. “Head back to the park and get ready for the next wave. I’m gonna go assist the other two squads.”

If the rest of our time here goes like this, I don’t see us having any problems.

------------------------------

[Jason Grace]

Looking down from the flat roof of a two-story commercial building, Jason watched the battle unfold.

Half of the cohort formed a line on the street, their shields locked as a group of eleven Cyclopes approached them.

“Flanking teams, hold position!” Gwen called out. “Let them commit to the center first! Support squad, prevent the stragglers from reinforcing!”

On cue, a squad of ten legionnaires peeled off from the rear. They went down a side street to engage a pack of four circling hellhounds that Jason had seen earlier. He’d debated finishing them with a bolt of lightning, but his cohort was handling the situation, so he’d stick to the plan.

It felt strange, being up here. Leading had always been his role, what everyone expected of the Son of Jupiter. But not this time. Jason was the guardian today. His fellow centurion had proven she could command.

The Cyclopes reached the shield wall and started hammering down, but the formation held.

“Now!” Gwen shouted. “Box them in!”

The hidden flanking teams exited from their concealed positions in the alleys to the left and right. The Cyclopes’ bellows turned from rage to confusion as they were suddenly assaulted from three directions at once, swords slicing at the back of their legs, javelins jabbing at their torsos from behind the safety of shields.

Perfect execution. She timed it exactly right.

One Cyclops ignored the legionnaires harrying at it. It let out a furious roar, turned, and charged the right flanking team. That team wasn’t braced in a full shield wall like the main line, opting for a looser formation suited for offense. And Dakota, busy slashing his gladius into another monster’s calf, was directly in its path.

Reacting instantly, Jason thrust his hand out. The air between Dakota and the Cyclops solidified, turning into an invisible barrier. The Cyclops slammed into it face first. Before it could stagger back, Jason clenched his fist, making the air pin it to the ground.

The rest of the legionnaires didn’t waste the opening. They swarmed the Cyclops, their weapons raised, and it dissolved into dust moments later.

This role isn’t too bad.

He could view the entire battle at once, and his powers granted him a reach that let him assist anywhere on the field.

A few minutes later the Fifth cohort killed the last monster, then broke formation and began to regroup. Jason stepped off the ledge, controlling the wind to slow his descent.

Dakota jogged over, grinning. “Gods, Jason, thanks for the save back there. You were so smooth too, like the hand of god guiding the battle’s tide! You need anything, and I mean anything, even… even the good stuff, just let me know.”

It looked like the prospect of handing it over caused him more pain than the past two hours of fighting monsters.

Felix clapped him on the shoulder and snorted. “No way you’re actually gonna give up any of Serif’s ‘special reserve’ cookies. Your soul would wither and die.”

“I must show my gratitude to my Centurion!” Dakota declared, placing a hand over his heart in dramatic agony. “Even if the cost is deep…”

“It’s fine, Dakota. The thought is enough,” Jason said, smiling. He looked around at the tired but triumphant faces. “You all did great. The number of monsters, though… they were lower than I expected.”

Harris walked right up to him. “Lower?! With all due respect, Centurion, what do you mean LOWER? We’ve probably taken down forty of them so far! That’s like a monster every three minutes!”

Jason paused. The number wasn’t quite accurate. They’d fought the monsters in waves, which took around ten to fifteen minutes to finish, followed by half-hour breaks before the next group arrived. Still, Harris was right. That amount of monsters was a significant number for a normal cohort to face in a single morning.

Forty monsters… but that feels like nothing to me.

Wait, is this because of the quest with Serif?

On their very first day, the two of them had fought a horde with nearly the same amount of monsters and proceeded to wipe them out in less than ten minutes. His standard for what constituted a “threat” had been completely warped.

And that was it, wasn’t it? The reason the numbers were so “low” today was because they were mopping up the remnants. While they were in California on the first day of the quest, he and Serif had faced so many monsters that they likely cleared out a huge portion of the state’s population in the process. The monsters in Oakland simply hadn’t had the time to recover. He could only imagine how much easier the First Cohort and Serif had it in Berkeley. That was the city they were first in, the monster population must be practically non-existent by now. 

It was possible that this entire two-cohort sweep was an overreaction. Or perhaps he and Serif had just inadvertently done the Legion’s job for them weeks ago.

“One more Cyclops approaching from 27th street!” Lee’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Harris laughed. “This one's late to the party. What, did he get lost?”

“I’ll deal with this one,” Jason said, making a bolt of lightning strike the monster, disintegrating it on the spot. There was no need for them to march out there just to deal with a single cyclops.

Haley shot him a look. “Jeez, that’s all it takes? When you have powers like that, you’ve gotta be more active, Jason. If you don’t, Serif’s kill count is gonna make you look lazy.”

He doubted he could catch up at this point. After all, Serif had a two-hour head start by now, and he wasn’t the type to sit back and play guardian.

Gwen walked up to stand beside him, looking north, in the direction of Berkeley. “I wonder how he’s doing over there with the First Cohort.”

It’s probably a walk in the park for him.

------------------------------

[Titus]

Broken scutums, discarded pila, and blackened armor were scattered across the scorched ground of the Berkeley marina. Just over half of the cohort was already out of the fight, clutching at burns while helping drag away the ones who had it worse.

Can we even survive this?

It had all gone so perfectly up until a few minutes ago. The scouts had reported the latest wave of monsters: twenty Telekhines advancing from the west and a smaller pack of hellhounds from the east. Titus had assigned the hellhounds to Serif and told him to head back to the base when he was done, confident that the rest of them would have no problem dealing with the other group.

And, to his credit, he hadn’t been wrong about that part. The First Cohort held a three-to-one advantage and had all three of the leaders with them. 

Honestly, getting to fight back-to-back with his older brother again had been an amazing feeling. The bond they shared was different from the loose sense of familiarity a demigod had for their godly half-siblings. Marcus had taken Titus under his wing from the day he’d arrived at Camp Jupiter as a terrified Probatio, far from what a Son of Mars should have been. Years later, Marcus had even named him as his successor to the Centurion’s post when he was elevated to Praetor.

Unfortunately, right in the midst of the cheering and back-slapping after turning the water demons to dust, an Aethiopian Drakon had surged from the water off the interstate, just a block away from their position, and proceeded to crash straight into their unprepared ranks. Its first breath of fire had taken a good twenty legionnaires out of the fight before they even raised their shields.

“Everyone who can still fight, on me!” Marcus’s voice cut through the groans of the wounded. “We are not broken!”

Titus was at his brother’s side in an instant. Around them, the twenty-five or so legionnaires still mobile scrambled into a ragged, desperate line. Winning against the monster was impossible, but that was fine. They just needed to stall. As soon as the Drakon had surfaced, they had sent runners sprinting toward the park to find Serif and bring the medical supplies closer.

They swarmed the thirty-foot-long green serpent, their blades chipping uselessly against the plate-like scales.

“Keep it occupied!” Maria shouted. “Don’t let it turn toward the wounded!”

Bait. That was all they were now. A distraction to keep the beast’s attention focused on them and away from their fallen comrades.

The Drakon reared its head back. Titus knew that motion. It had done the same thing when it first arrived, just before it had burned an entire section of the street, and so many of his comrades with it.

“Shields!” he roared. “Brace for fire!”

The legionnaires raised their scutums to meet the flames. The heat was immense, but nothing that they couldn’t endure. Maybe because everyone was used to dealing with fire just as hot from the weekly war games.

When the flames died down, their shields were blackened and warped. They wouldn’t be able to defend against another attack like that.

Titus scanned the ranks, searching for any who had faltered. His eyes landed on Octavian, who was standing a good twenty yards away from their defensive line, frozen in terror, his eyes locked with the Drakon’s.

“Hey! Over here, you overgrown worm!” Marcus shouted, banging his sword against his shield to draw its attention.

They continued their futile assault with desperation. But the monster’s focus had shifted. With a dismissive sweep of its tail that sent three legionnaires flying, it began to slither forward directly toward the paralyzed Augur.

He’s dead. We can’t stop it…

Suddenly, a streak of fire shot down from the sky, swooping in between the Drakon and its prey an instant before the monster lunged.

Serif hovered above them for a moment, holding the limp, pale Augur by the back of his collar. He flew over to their position and unceremoniously dropped Octavian onto the ground next to a stunned Maria.

“Damn, an actual fucking Drakon, huh?” Serif said, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. The glare he was sending the massive serpent didn’t match his nonchalant way of speaking. “Got any advice?”

“Go for the eyes!” Marcus answered, raising his disfigured shield. “The rest of its body is covered in plate-like scales. Our weapons can’t break through. We’ll create a diversion to giv—”

“No,” Serif cut him off, stepping past the defensive line. “You guys go back and gather all the injured. I’ll take it from here.”

Before anyone could protest, Serif blasted himself upward, going straight for the Drakon’s head. He went for the right eye, but the monster snapped its head to the side at the last second, leaving Serif’s sword to scrape against its armored cheek.

Then the Drakon opened its maw, unleashing a stream of fire directly at the hovering demigod.

And Serif… just let it swallow him completely.

Titus knew, intellectually, that it shouldn’t have been a problem. Serif wielded fire, so it was likely he also had a resistance to it. But watching a human-shaped figure take a Drakon’s flames head-on sent a spike of unease through him all the same.

When the flames died down, Serif was revealed to be unharmed. Not even his clothes were burned. His sword, however, had changed. The blade now glowed a dull orange, then turned to a bright red as the hand Serif was holding it with erupted into flames.

He slashed again. The Drakon arrogantly tried to block with the same scaled cheek. Instead of hearing another screech from the blade failing to break through, Titus only heard a roar of agony from the monster.

Serif’s blade pierced through the scale as if it was nothing. As the Drakon thrashed its head in pain, Serif struck again. He drove the sword deep into its right eye, twisted, and pulled it free within a second. Before the creature could process the half-blindness, he repeated the strike on the left. Two dark, smoking holes replaced the slit-pupiled eyes that once paralyzed them.

The Drakon thrashed its massive head wildly, smashing into parked cars and streetlights. It opened its maw and began breathing fire blindly across the entire street, directly toward where the medics were treating the wounded.

“Move!” Titus screamed, scrambling toward the injured with his shield raised again.

Serif raised his sword high. 

Then, the most bizarre thing he’d ever witnessed happened. The torrent of draconic flames bent, curving away from them and flowing directly into the sword.

Serif rocketed high above the thrashing, blinded beast. For a second, he hung there, letting his sword get brighter and brighter. Then he dove, with his sword pointed straight down. He plunged the blade through the top of the Drakon’s skull.

The massive serpent convulsed one last time, then exploded into a mountain of golden dust that rained down on the stunned legionnaires of the First Cohort.

Titus stood there, his mouth slightly open.

The fight, starting from Serif’s arrival to the Drakon’s disintegration, had been shorter than the time it took for the beast to crush their hope when it first arrived.

What even is he?

Right now, he looked less like a demigod, and more like a god of war himself.

Serif flew back down to them as the other legionnaires began staggering to their feet, coughing and cheering weakly through the settling dust.

Maria shook off her shock first. “All legionnaires, assist your comrades to the medics. We have enough ambrosia and nectar for everyone. Be patient and let the most critically injured go first.”

“Whoever is in good condition, form up on me,” Titus added, finding his own voice. “We’ll do a final check of the perimeter.”

“I think we should call it a day,” Serif said, walking up to the Praetor. “We’ve got enough work done. It’s looking like everyone’s reached their limits.”

Marcus surveyed the battered cohort, then nodded slowly. “Agreed. We’ve likely cleared the immediate threats. Anything else drawn here now would be coming from far outside our borders, attracted by the combined scent of a full cohort and the bloodshed.”

“How about I fly out to the cities once a week or so to make sure the numbers don’t build up again?” Serif offered. “My scent alone is enough to draw out monsters in a single city, but not from farther away. Plus, let's be honest, there’s not much out here that’s actually a challenge for me.”

“Your willingness to take on that burden is noted,” Marcus replied. “I’ll discuss it with Serena. But the defense of Roman territory is a duty for the entire legion, not just one soldier. Once we know the situation is stable, the cohorts will rotate that duty.”

Serif shrugged. “Fair enough.” He then looked east, toward the mountain on the horizon. “Speaking of monster hotspots, what do you think about Mount Diablo? With a name like that, it’s gotta be a monster convention center. Might be worth checking it out.”

Octavian, who had been quietly trembling on the ground, finally found his feet. His face was one of the only ones without a scratch.

“Yes, that’s an excell—AAGH!” he screamed, clutching his head as his already pale face went completely white. “No! NO! Absolutely not! The gods declare that place cursed ground for any demigod!”

Titus glared at him. “Octavian. What were you about to say?”

“I-I was about to say his theory sounded astute, Centurion,” Octavian stammered, his voice still trembling. “However… Before I could add that we must consult the auguries, the gods clearly felt the matter too urgent to wait for a formal ritual and saw fit to deliver their warning directly to their chosen messenger.”

“You’re really something else, slimeball,” Serif scoffed, then turned his back to Octavian and looked at the wounded legionnaires supporting each other.

Titus narrowed his eyes.

Was he really about to send Serif on a death trip? No, they dislike each other, but Serif pulled him from the jaws of a Drakon not even five minutes ago.

“Let’s move out,” Marcus commanded. “We’re going home.”