Legionary: Land of the Sacred Fire by Gordon Doherty Read Free Book Online Page A

the second liburnian is on its way too.’
    Gallus’ glare sharpened as he ushered Pavo and the legionaries over to the ship’s edge. ‘That’s it, keep low, keep down,’ he encouraged them as they took the anchor on their backs, crouching below the lip of the vessel.
    The liburnian cut once more along the side of the trireme.
    ‘Slings again, ready shields!’ Zosimus bawled.
    But before the Cretan pirates could loose their hail, Gallus stood tall. ‘Up and over!’ he roared.
    Pavo cried with the colossal effort of rising with the anchor on his back. His comrades groaned likewise, but the iron monolith ground and splintered against the edge of the trireme and then, at once, the weight was gone.
    Pavo panted, seeing the pirates gawp, their slings falling limp. The pirate captain’s broad grin faded, and his face greyed as the anchor hurtled down, then plunged into the deck of the liburnian with a crash of shredding timber. Dust and splinters billowed into the air, and then all was silent. For a moment, it seemed that the hole in the deck had caused little harm as the liburnian continued on its sweeping course. But then the anchor chain lifted and grew taut as the liburnian drew away from the hull of the Roman trireme. First, there was a groan of timber, then a chopping, snapping and shredding of collapsing hull. The Roman trireme tilted, but the lighter liburnian took the brunt of the stress.
    ‘Pull down the sails!’ the pirate captain cried. But it was too late. With the liburnian at full sail, the grappling anchor caused the pirate vessel to pivot sharply, almost dragging its hull below the water so acute was the angle. This jolted the pirates, casting them across the decks like toys. Some were catapulted overboard, one serving as an appetiser for the gathered shiver of sharks – his body torn apart in moments.
    As the snared and crippled liburnian settled, the legionaries hauled at the anchor chain and drew the vessel back towards the trireme. When the hulls touched, Gallus stepped up on the edge of the trireme and glowered down on the pirate crew, his teeth clenched and his eyes alight with fury. Pavo joined him. Zosimus, Sura and the rest of the century were quick to follow.
    ‘Finish them!’ he roared.
    Like swooping eagles, the century leapt down onto the pirate deck. They came together as one, nudging together, spears raised, shields interlocked. The pirates’ shock faded when they realised they had no option but to fight or die.
    The leader drew his hook-ended falcata blade, then waved his men together. They presented a rabble of shields and blades. With a cry, they rushed the Roman square.
    Pavo felt his whole body tremble with battle-rage as a roar tumbled from his lungs and mixed with those of his comrades. A clatter of iron on iron was accompanied by a ferocious jolt to his shield arm as the Cretan pirate charge battered the Roman square back.
    ‘Stay together! Cut to the throat, to the thigh, keep your shields high,’ Pavo cried out as he felt the legionaries either side of him struggle to stay on their feet. He lowered his shield just enough to see over it, and was greeted by the sight of a bald, sunburnt giant thrusting a curved blade at his face. Pavo jinked to one side, the blade singing past his ear, then jabbed his spear out, lancing the giant through the chest. The giant’s grimace suddenly vanished, and a look of confusion replaced it along with an eruption of black blood from his lips and nostrils. Pavo ripped his spear back from the man’s ribs, then slipped on something and crashed to the deck. He shuddered as he realised he had fallen in the spilled guts of one of his dead comrades, but when the legionary square pushed forward around him, he knew they were winning. He leapt up and barged forward to take his place in the front line again, drawing his spatha and hacking out at the rodent-faced brigand that lurched for him. The spatha blade cut through the man’s neck and brought