Hello, brave readers! Today, we enter the colossal depths of the mysterious 'Mars' Path', alongside the recently indentured Warden and her Conqueror companion. As always, constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated, and I hope you enjoy...
The Oath Of Mars, Part 5: Capture
"I appreciate the lack of a gag, at least."
"A gag? Wha' th'hell do they need a gag for? Not exactly like we can call for help, innit?"
"Why do you put 'innit' on the end of things? It's short for 'isn't it'! That wasn't a question, it was a statement!"
"Tacēte, servī!"
It had been two days, here in the dark. Where were they? They traveled on a great expanse of what looked like shining black glass, and darkness pressed in on all sides. Not even the stars made an appearance. They must be underground, but there was no wall, nor ceiling, in sight. Grumbling, the soldier charged with guarding them looks over her shoulder, trying to glean something from the shadows in boredom, twirling the pilum in her hand idly. Leaning over to Garth, she whispers.
"So, do we actually have a plan, or did you just say that to keep my hopes up?"
"Give yer mate some time, these bloody locks are bein' a bastard."
"It's been a day, Garth."
"I gotta start over every time we hit a goddamn bump, and besides, a mans gotta sleep, y'know? Look, I've just..."
Grunting quietly in frustration, he keeps on working the lock. He used to be the king of picking locks. Now look at him. Conscription does terrible things to a man's sense of subtlety and finesse.
"...about...got..."
Then, suddenly, his work was done. His hands were free of the manacles. The lock was open.
Open, with a VERY loud click. One the spear-wielding soldier sitting across from them was very familiar with, from how she whirled around so quickly, weapon at the ready. Shit.
Anna had to think of something. But her hands were bound. What was she to do?
As the praetorian rose to deal with the unshackled prisoner, something threw her off guard. The woman to his left suddenly started shaking, as if in a seizure. Her eyes rolled up in her head, and blood came from her mouth!
"Vah?!"
In that brief moment of confusion, Garth punched her right off the wagon. He had planned to wait for the opportune moment to escape from his bonds, but it seems that these southerners had been taking prisoners a long, long time. The noise made by the shackles -and the ensuing struggle it caused- had alerted the wagons in front and behind in the wagon train. He had to work quick. Hauling his still bound companion to her feet, he stares at the blood coming from her mouth.
"What in god's name was that?"
"I bit the inside of my cheeks! That and a bit of acting, and suddenly, I'm dying! A serviceable distraction, don't you think?"
Jumping down from the wagon, he fishes around for their unconscious guard's keys, and handed them up to her.
"Where'dya learn that from?!"
"Nowhere! I just thought 'what would lady Elizabeth do', and it came to me!"
He looks up and down the cavernous tunnel. Their escape had triggered chaos. As centurions rushed to capture them from the faraway wagons on either side, their captives took the opportunity to enact their own escapes. And, like fire down a line of oil, these escapes set the carriage's down the line panicking in turn. Yet another 'serviceable distraction', as Garth and Anna sprinted for the darkness.
"We...w-...we probably should have stolen a lantern or a torch too, huh...?"
Utter, cloying black. They had escaped their pursuers, only to find themselves lost in the dark as well. Anna had believed this place to be a single tunnel, but as they fled, they had found that the central shaft which they had escaped from was simply the core of what seemed like a colossal web of caves.
As they felt their way through the cold shaft of black glass, Anna felt her senses begin to return. An almost invisible glimmer reflecting off the smooth ground. Light was near.
"Y'know... now that we can relax a bit, I got t'ask... where'n the hell are we?"
Rounding a corner, Anna can see light, reflecting off the black glass that formed every surface of these caverns. White light, not the dim glow of flame.
Daylight. They had entered a natural cistern, a gargantuan, spherical chamber with a great crack along the top, allowing light, earth and snowmelt together into the cave, forming a sizable underground lake for the two Ashfeldian knights to rest on the shores of. Still winded from her flight from the convoy, Anna all but panted out her reply to Garth's question.
"How... should I know?"
"Well, yer the one always listenin' t' Elizabeth's fancy prattle!"
Sitting down at the edge of the water, disturbing the myriad birds that had come to drink of the water and eat the strange, blind cave-fish that populated it, she caught her breath and thought for a moment.
"Well... They came from the south. That means they had to find some way through the Skyrakers. Presumably, this place is it. This black material... It looks like obsidian."
"Wot now?"
"Obsidian. It's a kind of glass formed when lava cools quickly, it's what got the Blackstone's their name. The Skyrakers were made by the Cataclysm. When the land pushed itself up to form their slopes, it dredged molten rock up from the depths of the earth. A sea used to be here, so when the lava met the water, it must have cooled extremely quickly, forming all this obsidian. And when the boiling water became steam and tried to escape, it must have formed these tubes and bubbles as it rose and expanded through the lava. These caves... they must thread the whole mountain range."
"Well, if it's always been 'ere, then why are these face-wearin' blokes comin' through now?"
Cupping the cool, clean water of the cistern in her hands, she drinks deeply of the snowmelt, quenching her throat, parched by the hot, moistureless atmosphere of the volcanic caverns. Sighing, she responds.
"It's a common misconception that the Cataclysm is over, or that it was a single event with a beginning and end in the first place. The worst of it occurred all at once, to be sure, but even now, the banks of Ashfeld's rivers wind like serpents on the prowl, and the Myre of the samurai cannot be mapped for how much the ground roils and moves about. Maybe the earth shifts such that the entrance is only open periodically? Or maybe the snow simply buried the mouth until just recently. I cannot know for certain."
"It's a damn shame that th'mountain had t' crack itself open an' let all th'baddies out now, of all times. We're already gettin' whipped on all fronts up north."
Standing up, the Warden dusts off her standards.
"All the more reason to find our way out of this blasted pit. We need to get our comrades back and return home. We've both seen what ashfeldian powder charges can do. Reduce castle walls to nothing. Change the shape of cliff faces."
She looks to the sliver of sunlight high above, determination in her eyes.
"Maybe they can seal this place up once more."
Mars Quirinus had a headache. She hated headaches.
A nervous soldier stood before her. A praetorian, and a Misrian one at that, just like her.
"M-my lady, I tried to..."
She narrows her gaze. The praetorian cringes away from the sight.
"...The woman, she started bleeding at the mouth, as if struck by a southern plague, and I-I..."
"Panicked?"
"N-no! I was just surprised, i-is all..."
She looks to the ground, eyes wide with fear.
"You let two prisoners escape, and who knows how many we lost in the chaos that followed. Do you know what kind of omen this is for the campaign ahead?"
"M-my lady, please-!"
"If I was Mars Gradivus, you'd be in shackles, bound for the fighting pits 'til some other wretched slave gutted you for show."
Rising from her chair, she strides forward till she stood face to sniveling face with the woman.
"If I was Mars Ultor, you'd be flayed alive, salted, and nailed to the cliffside for the sun to bake."
But, suddenly, she places a hand on her shoulder, and smiles softly, voice calmer.
"But I'm not Mars Gradivus, and I'm certainly not his bloodthirsty pet weasel. That said, I cannot let you go unpunished. My fellow Aspects would have my head for it. Report to the lictor for a dozen lashes."
The hand on her fellow praetorian's shoulder goes now to her own chest, against her heart. She speaks now, softly, in Coptic, the language of their people.
"Be brave, my sister."
Staggered by the unexpected mercy, the lower ranking soldier repeats the gesture, and replies in their shared tongue.
"Th-thank you, master."
Without another word, the praetorian scurries from the tent, afraid that her good fortune would suddenly be pulled from underneath her.
-And stumbles right past Mars Ultor himself on the way out.
The waiting Aspect stares down the fleeing soldier wordlessly, then steps inside, just as the Praetorian returns to her seat. He was a thin man, thinner than most in the Empire's army, but the Salii preferred agility to raw strength, as evident by his light armor and twin blades. He was a wretched thing, a thin, almost skeletal face with two soulless blue eyes, topped with a chaotic mass of curling blonde hair atop his head.
Eyeing her suspiciously, he hissed, as a viper should.
"There was hope in that proscriptio's eyes. What sentence did you hand down, Quirinus?"
"A dozen lashes from a scourge. Her back'll run red."
Scowling, he steps forward angrily.
"A dozen lashes?! For her idiocy, we lost some of the hostia's finest stock! All we are left now is the weak! The gimps and the cowards! Mars Gradivus will hear of this!"
Putting a hand on the shaft of her pilum, she stands fast against the cruel sycophant in front of her.
"I don't care, Ultor. Gradivus may have taught you otherwise, but the Aspects are equals. I can punish my soldiers as I wish. That is the emperors will, and his is the only one I will heed. Your master has not taken the throne yet, and while I breathe, he never will. Now get out of my sight, before I end this farce."
"Y-you dare?!"
He lunges forward-
-only to be stopped by the point of her spear. She all but snarls, her face a rictus of righteous indignation.
"I do!"
Voice calming, she looks him dead in the eye.
"As long as I breathe, I will fight for the emperor and his line. You mean to betray him, to stab him with knives while he sleeps, like cowards. This I know. And you should know that the instant you give me a reason -nay, an excuse- I will put you down like the dogs I know you to be."
Staring hatefully into her dark brown eyes for a long time, hands resting nefariously on the twin hilts at his side, the Aspect of the Salii backs away without warning, relaxing, if only slightly.
"You should be more measured with your words, Quirinus. Passion serves you poorly here."
"Passion is what brought me here. Passion for my people. Passion for our society. Passion for our prosperous future. It takes heart to stand on the front lines. Less so, to slit throats in the dark like some bedtime monster."
Without another word, Mars Ultor skulks out of her tent, surely to inform Gradivus of her words. She looks down at the goblet of wine at her side in thought, but decides against it. From here on, she'd be eating only the fruit off the trees, drinking only the water from the rivers. Harder to poison.
"Light! Blessed light!"
Far off in the distance, the mouth of a tunnel. No momentary glimpse, no cruel tease. Beyond was the far side. Beyond was the Empire.
"Heh! Would ye looka that?! How ye talked abou' it, I'd figure we'd be stuck down here 'till we starved!"
As they rushed to meet the sun's kind embrace, they both felt something odd. A chill breeze, cutting through the sweltering heat of the caves, and a sound like distant thunder.
And then Garth slipped and fell flat on his face.
"Oh my! Ser Brickender!"
"It's wet! Bloody wet glass! Goddammit, my nose!"
"...Wet?"
Reaching down, she removed one gauntlet and touched the bare skin to the obsidian floor. It was absolutely soaked, standing pools of water forming in the dips and depression of the tunnel. As she approached the exit from the underground, it soon became apparent why.
A waterfall. The tunnel exited out behind a waterfall. She couldn't see anything past the rushing water, including how far below the water's destination lay, or how deep said destination was already submerged.
"Of course! Of course it had to be a bloody waterfall! Fuck it, lets jump!"
"Are you crazy?! We don't know how far it goes down! Besides, we can't swim in this armor!"
"Well, what are we gonna do, huh, girlie? Go back down into that hellhole and pray we're somehow lucky enough t'find another way out?!"
"Let me think! For now, let's just be glad we have light to see by, yes?"
With a grumble, Garth concedes the point. After all, not even he was in a rush to jump down a waterfall.
Investigating, she looks to the side of the tunnel's mouth, seeing if there was a ledge or a lip to stand on. Alas, all she could see was an utterly vertical cliff face, bare, save for a small, sturdy little tree growing defiantly from the mountainside.
This gave her an idea. A poor one, but here they are.
"Garth? I'm going to take off my armor."
"Wot?! Yer a lady!"
"I've still got my gambeson and breeches on under it, you halfwit!"
"Yeesh, yer soundin' more like the ol' bint each day!"
"Just listen to me, alright? There's a branch I could climb on, without all that weight, get a lay of the land. But I need your help."
"What for?"
Turning back to him, she begins unbuckling the straps and ties holding her cuirass on.
"I need you to keep me from falling while I reach across."
A minute or two later, the last of her half-plate had been discarded, and, one hand held firmly in Brickender's grip, she begins to reach across with the other, leaning over the divide for the sturdy little plant she had set eyes on.
Edging ever closer, until the very tips of her feet wavered on the uttermost edge of the cave mouth, her fingertips brushing the rough bark.
"Give me more, Garth, I've almost got it!"
"Alright, alri-"
Suddenly, a shout of surprise issued from the Conqueror bearing her weight for her, and in the work of a single moment, it was the other way around. Keeling over, she wraps one hand around the branch in the instant before gravity would have swept her off the mountainside, and the other hand goes from being held to very firmly holding the hands of her compatriot, who was now, courtesy of a troublesome patch of wet obsidian, dangling off the cliff alongside her, in a full set of very heavy chainmail.
"GARTH!"
"SHITE!"
"Just hold on!"
"I can't! This armor's... too bloody-"
CRACK.
With a calamitous snap, the trunk of the cliffside shrub snapped, sending Warden and Conqueror both into freefall.
"Lord in heaven... Sir Brickender, are you alright...?"
"GOD DAMN IT! Fuck this! Fuck all this to hell!"
"Good... That's good."
The two of them sheepishly dredged themselves from the river they had dropped about ten feet into.
"...Well, it COULD have been a 500-foot drop into a certain, watery grave, and the both of us know it. Better safe than sorry, y-yes...?"
"I'm not the one climbin' back up that wall to get yer armor back, alright?! Damn it all!"
"Come on! Ser Brickender!"
As the Conqueror angrily storms off down the riverbank, Anna mewls plaintively for forgiveness.
"I'm sorry! GARRRRRTH!"
Aquilus. His home. Not where the flesh of him was born, to be sure, but his title? His name? His very reason for living? It all started here. This is where he was named aspect of Mars, given the persona of Gradivus, given the sacred duty of leading the centurions, the most righteous and pure-hearted of all the Empire's soldiers, into battle.
His people have grown weak. The Emperor sits, stagnant like a filthy pond, content to play king over this tiny patch of earth as the rest of the world rots beyond their borders. He would bring glory to his people once again, as Mars wills it. He would bring war to the world, as the young Lupa had always wanted.
Ultor approaches.
"My lord. The barbarian has been moved to your quarters. Chained. The elixir has proven effective. She sleeps, even now. Should I wake her?"
The Lupa. From mysterious origins she came, and without answers she left. When she arrived here, chains on her wrists, a great blade at her hip, and ice in her eyes, he realized that this world was so much bigger than he believed. That the Empire was not yet safe in its dominion. And now, this woman came from beyond Olympus, speaking of exile and schisms. Of a past that had long been forgotten to his people. She wore a blade in the same style. Did they hail from the same land? Did the Lupa get her dream?
So many questions. And now, answers.
"Yes, Ultor."