Heart & Soul Part IV

Aram Hurt died three days before the birth of his daughter. He died during a raid. The other young men (boys really) he was with were retreating with a good supply of stolen goods. He told them to run and he would cover them. Alone. They were being beset by seven anasazi tribesmen. Hurt defended his comrades not heroically, but vaingloriously. He wanted to fight these enemies. He wanted to prove he was better, he was stronger. His companions left quickly. Hurt stayed.

He killed one of the men that fought him, and held off the rest, but soon more came. He went from fighting six men to fighting ten. Then thirteen. The young men he raided with were safe. They could still see him. They called to him, told him it was over, begged him to retreat. Hurt stayed. He kept fighting, but soon he was fighting the entire rallied defenses of the anasazi. The other young men could only watch as his smile finally faded, as was cut down by two dozen anasazi warriors. They couldn't even recover the body.

Aram Harpy would later tell the story to Hurt's son, who was only a year old when his father died. In retelling the story, Harpy would alter it, leaving out the details that painted Hurt in a bad light. That there was no need to keep fighting. That Hurt died because he was arrogant and proud. That he died for glory, not for his tribe. Harpy didn't want Hurt's son to have a bad impression of his father.

Mortuus Anima became a full Legionary with four other boys. He fought Mosayru as part of his induction ritual, and Victor fought Nuvakwahu. Sir didn't want the twins fighting each other. Mortuus and Nuvakwahu ended up in Cato the Bludy's centuriae, and Victor and Mosayru ended up in Maximus and Sergio's centuriaes, respectively. The Legion fort in Kingman had only a half cohort, as it was a low risk, low-yield area. Save the old Route 66 Museum that was used as a place of spiritual significance by local tribes the ruins were mostly used as a route to more important targets, like Lake Havasu or the relatively verdant Hualapai.

It was also the Legion outpost closest to Dry Wells. In the four years since he'd been traded to the Legion Mortuus had ceased to be a Twisted Hair, but he still felt some pull to return to his original people. Most pressingly (although he'd never admit it, not at the age of fourteen, anyway) he wanted to see his sister, Arama, again. By that time she was thirteen years old, the age at which most Twisted Hair girls were married, although Mortuus remembered that Arama had been barred from marriage by their grandfather and the elders. He always thought that was unfair. Although he loved his grandfather, sometimes he felt that the revered elder liked to pick on Arama. It was not her fault that she was so rebellious.

Mortuus had an obligation to the Legion, though, one he was not willing to sacrifice to see his sister or grandfather. In any case he had more than enough to occupy him as a new Legionary. Although Sir held Mortuus and his peers to a strict disciplinary standard, the Centurions of Kingman turned out to be much less stern. Kingman's obscurity and unimportance had bred corruption and indolence. The other Legionaries were shiftless, and spent much of their time lounging or fucking slaves. Gladiatorial fights were staged daily, mostly Legionaries or captured beasts killing ill-prepared wastelanders. The rules prohibiting stems and drink were still followed; any of Caesar's other rules were ignored when convenient.

The centurions of Kingman were making lots of money in slave trade. Rather than following Caesar's orders they sent their contubernias out to capture slaves from local tribes and then sold them to whoever could pay. They were growing quite rich from their illicit dealings. Most of their buyers were even other Centurions, all arranged through third parties. Some of the buyers were only interested in meat.

To assure the loyalty of their contubernias, centurions Cato the Bludy, Maximus, and Sergio paid for supplies above and beyond the typical Legion camp. Mortuus and his friends quickly realized Kingman was the best place in the Legion to be stationed. Sir disapproved, but he had very little authority outside the trainees.

Mortuus Anima loved nothing more than fighting, and so he quickly developed a reputation in the camp as a legendary bare-knuckle brawler. The Legionaries would even challenge the tribes of Kingman to pit their strongest warriors against Mortuus. Although the tribes liked the slave trade that the Legion camp had cultivated, they didn't have much respect for the thuggish, corrupt Legionaries stationed there. The dominant tribe of Kingman, known as The Devines, were unimpressed with the brash young man who the Legionaries called champion, and they accepted the challenge. They sent their biggest, strongest warrior to face Mortuus in single combat. He was unsettled that Mortuus wanted to fight bare-knuckle, but was confident in his victory all the same.

They entered the arena from opposite sides, walked up to each other with their fists raised. Mortuus employed some fleet footwork, and they traded blows. They seemed evenly matched, but the younger man let off a few hits directly into the Devine warrior's face that gave the warrior pause. Mortuus for his part was already starting to get a little punch-drunk when he turned the tide of the fight, but once it was over it was over. There was no mercy in the Legion's arena, and there was no mercy given by Mortuus Anima, the dead soul. The big Devine fell to his knees, and Mortuus gleefully snapped his neck. The legionaries were in joyful uproar, but the Devines were silent. They wouldn't forget the fight, or the young man who won it.

The corruption in Kingman didn't last. The Centurions got away with their scheme for a little bit longer than a year and a half. It started immediately after Caesar's priestesses of Mars left and ended only a year after Mortuus was made a Legionary. That was when Caesar came.

The Centurions anticipated this. They knew that the Son of Mars would make his way to Kingman eventually. They anticipated that he would make an appearance while passing through, to lead the war against the tribes of Hualapai. They assumed it would be relatively easy to hide their illicit activities, and made a plan. It didn't matter, though. Caesar had known for months.

Frumentarius had infiltrated the slavery ring as one of their very first assignments. They worked to keep the business confined to the Legion, to make sure news of the disobedient Centurions didn't spread to the wasteland. They kept Caesar informed, waiting for him to settle the matter personally.

Caesar came with two full cohorts. It took a whole day just for the men to arrive. They came with hundreds of slaves. Mortuus had never seen so many people gathered at one time. The Legion camp couldn't contain them all, and so only Caesar's personal cohort stayed within the confines of the old campground while all the other Legionaries made temporary lodging around the fort. The three centuriae stationed at Kingman ended up surrounded on all sides by legionaries brought by Caesar, but they thought nothing of it.

Mortuus was impressed by these other legionaries. Other centuriae came through Kingman regularly, but none were like the men who fought under Caesar. These men had been fighting and winning battles in eastern Arizona for years. Big, strong veterans with intimidating battle scars and discipline that even put Sir to shame. They trained constantly. Many of the Kingman legionaries didn't bother to keep up with these soldiers, but Mortuus felt compelled to join them in their routines.

In the morning they ran all around Kingman in tight regiments. Mortuus couldn't get any of his contubernia to join him, so he ran behind or beside the other Legionaries until a contubernia offered to let him join them. He was clearly outmatched, and the only legionary to start breathing hard, but they treated him as though he were their own. He spent whole days with them, training and sparring and maintaining equipment. The decanus, a burly man with only one eye named Kratos, taught him how to sew. During meals the men fondly recalled the battles they'd fought, and Mortuus bashfully admitted (speaking softly; he'd begun to talk but only barely) that he hadn't seen any real battles since joining the Legion. The men assured him he'd see battle soon enough.

Caesar made camp in Kingman for a week before he took action. He gathered all the centurions in Kingman together in the tent where the priestesses had shaved Mortuus' head. It started like any other war meeting, but before the Kingman centurions could react they were grabbed by the others and held. Caesar then calmly explained that he knew all about their insubordination, and that there was nothing they could do to save their lives, but if they wanted to save the lives of their men they could confess who was and who wasn't part of the slavery ring. Cato the Bludy claimed his whole centuriae was behind him and would fight to the death, but Sergio and Maximus rolled over on centurions they knew had bought from them and claimed full responsibility for their men's actions. It didn't matter what they said, though, because Caesar already knew everything.

The Kingman centuriaes had no idea what was happening. The other centuriaes received the order to capture the Kingman legionaries while Mortuus was with them. They didn't even think to hold him until he sheepishly admitted he was under the command of Cato the Bludy. Even still, they hesitated, as Mortuus had become quite popular in just a week, but Mortuus offered his hands to be tied and they obliged.

Out of the two-hundred and forty men stationed in Kingman, one-hundred and twenty-five were executed. Most were crucified, their bodies lining the sides of route 66. They were mostly decanus who were aware of the plot and had received money from the centurions. Sir was executed quickly, his throat slit rather than the long painful death by exposure on a telephone pole. Nuvakwahu was crucified simply for being under Cato the Bludy's command and his twin brother could only watch. All the boys who had trained with Mortuus but had graduated earlier such as Helo and Ya-et-ehh were likewise crucified. Mortuus' decanus had his legs and arms broken before he was nailed to his telephone pole.

The worst punishments were reserved for the centurions. All three were whipped for hours. They had their fingers cut off one by one, and were castrated. Sergio, the man in the metal armor that Mortuus had seen on his first day in Kingman, was stripped bare and pressed to death under rocks. Maximus was also stripped but was hanged. At first he tried to die with dignity, but soon began flailing and clawing at the rope, slowly asphyxiating. His body thrashed in the open air naked and afraid, and then was still. Cato the Bludy, who earned the most scorn from Caesar, was killed last. He was dumped unceremoniously and naked into the arena. Legion mongrels were set upon him, tearing him limb from limb. He couldn't scream, because his tongue had been cut out, but he made the effort anyway. The noise he made was strangled by the blood that filled his throat.

Those spared by Caesar's wrath were not absolved of guilt. Although Mortuus was spared execution, he and the one-hundred and fifteen men left were placed directly under Caesar's command. This was all part of his plan. Kingman was a demonstration, a warning to other centurions about the Son of Mars' absolute authority, but it was meant for the Legion only. Caesar had decided to conquer Kingman, lest the local tribes spread word of dissension in his Legion's ranks. He needed some of the legionaries alive because they were part of his attack plan. The survivors of his punishment were to fight the Devines in south Kingman, to prevent them from traveling up route 66 and providing aid to the other tribes fighting Caesar's cohorts. He knew the Devines hated the Kingman Legionaries, enough to be distracted by fighting them.

Mortuus and the other Legionaries marched down to the ancient Route 66 museum before the attack began. They were grim. No one said a word. They knew they were marching to their deaths, but they didn't dare rebel. Nothing the Devines did to them could compare to what Caesar would do if they didn't follow his orders to the letter. They were stopped before they made it to the museum. Because it was sacred lands, a small guard comprised of members of each local tribe kept watch. A warrior from the Kin Haalʼá Naaldeehiis held his arm out to prevent them from going any further and Mortuus broke it. All hell broke loose and a rifle retort missed Mortuus just barely, striking the Legionary beside him in the chest.

They never made it to the museum, and they lost ground rapidly. The Devines had been watching route 66 and knew what was coming when they saw the legionaries march in a long column. They'd mustered a decent defense in a short amount of time, and the legionaries were already demoralized. The Devines had rifles at first, but none of the guns had been tested in real combat and so broke and ran out of ammo quickly. Once the rifles were out of the picture the legionaries held their ground much better. Two hours into the battle their numbers were reduced to a single centuriae, but they kept their numbers for another six hours after that.

The legionaries held their ranks while the Devines would gather at a safe perimeter, suddenly swarm and then quickly retreat. The legionaries were better equipped and better trained, but they were fighting a losing battle. The Devines were taking out a few legionaries at a time, but consistently and while their numbers grew. When the night came it got worse. The legionaries had torches, but the light only extended so far, and soon they couldn't tell where the Devines were coming from. By the early hours of the morning, the legionaries were only twenty strong. To make matters worse they'd been fighting all day and all night and were exhausted, while the Devines had been sleeping in shifts and were keeping up their strength. When the men were only nine, the time had come to retreat, if only to warn the other Legionaries that the Devines would soon be coming.

Mortuus Anima stayed behind, to cover the retreat. Two other men stayed by him, and the other five left for north Kingman. Mortuus was certain this would be his last stand, and he intended to die with dignity. He wielded ten feet of flagpole, the end sharpened to a point. The Devines rushed them head-on, and the men with Mortuus took a few out with throwing spears. Mortuus waited until they were within range and swung the pole with all his considerable might, screaming a battle cry. He smashed a warrior's face in, gashed three across the chest, and knocked three more to the ground, their allies tripping over them. He kept them at a distance for one more swing but then they were upon him. He couldn't see his allies. He dropped the pole and started to fight with just his fists. He struck out in all directions, took blows from all sides, but he didn't go down. He fought so ferociously he actually succeeded in forcing a retreat. His allies were dead. The Devines were circling him, recognizing him. They knew he was the man who had killed their strongest warrior. He would've been dead were it not for some quick thinking and a stroke of luck.

He took a hostage. A Devine on the ground near him was wounded but not dead, and Mortuus grabbed him and pulled out a switchblade. He held it close to the Devine's throat, and that held off another rush.

The Devines responded in kind. They'd captured a few men of the one-hundred and fifteen, and they brought them before Mortuus now. Mosayru was among them. They killed one of the men as a demonstration. Mortuus retaliated by cutting his hostage's face.

"C'mon!" he yelled, not knowing whether they understood him or not, "A legionary is proud to die for Caesar! Gloria Mars!"

That seemed to scare the Devines. In that moment they realized the animal fury contained within the legionary they'd cornered. They saw the power of the Twisted Hairs and the might of the Legion in one. It was terrifying to behold.

"How many more of your men will die by my hands?" He hoarsely snarled.

They killed the captured legionaries one by one. Mosayru was last. He died proud, looking Mortuus right in the eyes as they slit his throat. Mortuus bit back tears and executed his hostage, but found another in the first Devine to rush him. Slowly, he marched further into south Kingman, a ring of Devines watching his every move, waiting for him to slip up. He replaced his switchblade with a machete, and drew blood from any warrior foolish enough to try and get close. For an hour this went on, Mortuus taunting the Devines and the Devines growing more and more agitated. Eventually they rushed him despite his captive.

He killed the hostage immediately and fought with everything he had left. He wasn't fighting for glory. He wasn't fighting to prove he could. He was fighting to survive, and he was fighting on the orders of Caesar. He cut Devine warriors one after another, keeping them back just enough to take them on one at a time. He was brought down by a spear to the gut. The Devine got close to deliver the killing blow, and with his last bit of strength Mortuus headbutted him, forcing the Devine's nose back up into his brain and killing him instantly. Mortuus sat there on his knees, spear still in his stomach, waiting for a Devine to come up behind him and slit his throat. He embraced it. It was a good death. But it didn't come.

Instead, marching up 66 in a long column was the rest of the Legion. The Devines retreated in terror. Mortuus was fifteen years and seven months old. In a month, he'd be older than his father ever was.