Emperor: The Death of Kings E#2 Read Free Page A

of the enemy. Something hit him on the helmet, snapping his cheek-guard. His vision blurred and his sword came up to block automatically. He felt wet blood run down his neck and chest to his stomach but ignored it. More of his unit reached the narrow walkway, and the cutting began properly.
    Three of his unit formed a tight wedge around the top of the ladder, their light armor denting under heavy blows. Julius saw a gladius jerked up into a jaw from below, impaling one of the rebels.
    The men they faced wore no common uniform. Some sported ancient armor and wielded strange blades, while others carried hatchets or spears. They were Greek in appearance and shouted to each other in that liquid language. It was messy and Julius could only swear as one of his men fell with a cry, blood spattering darkly in the torchlight. Footsteps crashed and echoed all round the fort. It sounded as if there was an army in there, all running to this point. Two more of his men made the walkway and launched into the fight, pushing the enemy back.
    Julius jabbed his gladius tip into a man’s throat in a lunge Renius had taught him years before. He hit hard and furiously and his opponents flailed and died. Whatever they were, the men they faced were winning only with numbers. The Roman skill and training was making the core of soldiers round the ladder almost impossible to break.
    Yet they were tiring. Julius saw one of his men yell in frustration and fear as his sword jammed between the plates of an ornate set of armor, probably handed down from generation to generation since the time of Alexander. The Roman wrenched at it viciously, almost knocking the armored rebel from his feet with the movement. His angry shout changed abruptly to a scream, and Julius could see the rebel punching a short dagger into his man’s groin under the armor. Finally the Roman went limp, leaving his gladius still wedged.
    “To me!” Julius shouted to his men. Together they could force a path along the narrow walkway and move deeper into the fort. He saw steps nearby and motioned to them. More men fell to him and he began to enjoy the fight. The sword was a good weight. The armor gave him a sense of being invulnerable, and with the hot blood of action in his system, it sat lightly on him.
    A sudden blow to his head removed the damaged helmet, and he could feel the cool night air on his sweating skin. It was a pleasure, and he chuckled for a moment as he stepped in and barged into a man’s shield, knocking him into the path of his fellows.
    “ Accipiter! ” he shouted suddenly. Hawk. It would do. He heard voices echo it and roared it again, ducking under a recurved sword that looked more like a farm implement than a weapon of war. His return stroke cut the man’s thighs open, dropping him bawling on the stones.
    The other legionaries gathered around him. He saw eight of his unit had made the wall, and there were six others who had survived the archers. They stood together and the rebels began to waver in their rushing as the bodies piled around them.
    “Soldiers of Rome, we are,” grunted one of them. “Best in the world. Come on, don’t hang back.”
    Julius grinned at him and took up the shout of the galley name when it was begun again. He hoped Pelitas would hear them. Somehow, he didn’t doubt the ugly bastard had survived.
    *      *      *
    Pelitas had found a cloak on a hook and used it to cover his tunic and drawn sword. He felt vulnerable without his armor, but the men who clattered past didn’t even glance at him. He heard the legionaries growl and shout their challenges nearby and realized it was time to join the fight.
    He lifted a torch from a wall bracket and joined the enemy rush to the clash of blades. Gods, there were a lot of them! The inner fort was a maze of broken walls and empty rooms, the sort of place that took hours to clear, with every step open to ambush and arrow fire. He rounded a corner in the darkness, ignored and