Gladiators vs Zombies Read Free Page B

patriot of Rome, and yet there was a fear in the man, some sense of dread or disgust hidden just beneath the surface.
    Soon, after several cups of wine, the centurion began to tell his tale. Atticus listened quietly and intently as the soldier told of his century’s assault on the mountain fortress of Masada. The lanista shifted in his seat as he saw the horror written on the centurion’s face as he recounted the desperate battle with the creatures. Cyprian had paused for a moment, once he’d told the tale of cutting off the tattooed man’s head. Then he reached into his satchel and produced the very head he’d cut from shoulders.
    Atticus had leapt from his seat in shock as the severed head opened its eyes, its mouth working against the gag binding its jaws shut. As the lanista recovered his composure and re-took his seat the centurion told the remainder of his tale. Cyprian had heard campfire stories about the golems of the Jews, magical creatures that were men who were made of clay, then bestowed with life by the Jew who created them. They were servants, but according to the Judeans were cursed creatures, and brought only sorrow upon those around them. More a cautionary tale than anything, he’d always just dismissed it as a campfire tall tale, typical amongst soldiers on campaign. And yet, when he set his eyes upon the still living severed head, he knew that there had to be some truth in the stories.
    Cyprian had bound the golem’s jaws, and taken the head as a prize, as if compelled, so curious was he of this supernatural marvel. It was then that Cyprian leaned forward, his gaze transfixing Atticus. “It was the bites Lanista, the bites transformed them,” he had said, “Many of the men who were killed in battle soon rose again, and attacked us as if they too were on the side of the rebels. Of my hundred men only eighteen left the field alive, and a score of them had been bitten by the creatures, some more than once. Many soldiers in the relief column were bitten as well. We thought little of these bites, as wounds in battle are common to us, so we bound them with healing herbs and continued in our duties.”
    Atticus poured himself another strong measure of wine, and gulped it down in two swallows as the centurion finished his grisly tale. The soldier’s face was pale as a shade while he described the madness of that evening’s events. “I cannot be sure when it began exactly, but the men who had been bitten fell grievously ill, and expired during the night. Most fell un-noticed in their tents, though some perished in the medicae,” he recounted as he glanced down at the golem’s head resting on the table, “Within moments of death they, I do not know what else to say, returned to life, just like the men killed in the actual battle. Though they were like this golem creature, ravenous beasts that seem to think only of consuming the flesh of men.”
    “In the depths of the night these creatures, these golems, moved among the camp, slaughtering the men. We are the seventh legion, and veterans of many wars, so we rallied. Word had spread of our battle on the mountain, and once we knew our own were attacking us we were swift to mobilize. It was a long and bloody night lanista, and many more men were bitten and turned before we realized that it was the bites. Our losses were tremendous, from the massacre in the night, then the following day’s executions of those survivors who were bitten. In a day the legion had lost two thirds of its strength,” said Cyprian as he stared into his goblet, swirling the last of the wine around, losing himself for a moment in his memories before speaking again, “Legio VII is to be disbanded within a month’s time, most of the soldiers will be transferred to other cohorts, and the few men of my own century, including myself, will be retired. Which brings me to my business with you lanista.”
    Atticus was brought out of his reverie for a moment, his conversation with Cyprian