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

with it a shower of blood. Pavo felt the hot gore splatter on his lips and grimaced at the familiar metallic stench.
    ‘Come on – let’s finish this,’ he heard Gallus urge them on. ‘These bastards have had their day, now let’s show them the road to Hades!’
    With renewed vigour, the Roman square barged forward. Pirates fell in swathes and the shattered decks ran slick with blood.
    ‘Fight on, you dogs,’ the pirate captain roared, hacking at one of his men who fled from the fight, ‘our reinforcements are almost here.’
    Pavo heard the ensuing pirate roar of approval and shot a glance out to sea. Indeed, the second liburnian was slicing towards them, a hundred or more eager crewmen perched around the edge of the vessel, eager to join and surely turn the fight. But, like a predator lunging from the waves, the prow of Centurion Quadratus’ trireme hammered into the side of the second liburnian. The smaller ship crumpled under the impact and the crew were cast into the waves.
    The pirates before Pavo fell silent and blanched at this, some backing off only to be cut down by the legionary advance. The last few even took to leaping overboard, preferring to take their chances with the sharks instead of the blood-soaked Roman blades. At the last, only the pirate leader remained. He backed away, towards the stern, readying to leap into the water. But he glanced down there only to see the blacktip sharks gorging on the foolish pirates thrashing nearby. Dissuaded by this sight, he looked up to the panting, snarling, gore-streaked Roman century.
    Gallus strode over to the captain and lifted his spatha to the man’s throat, his icy glare trained along the blade’s length. Pavo saw the pirate’s languid grin fade and his confidence waver. The man dropped his bloodstained falcata. The blade stabbed into the deck and quivered. He raised his hands either side in supplication.
    ‘There is no need for any more bloodshed,’ he said, unclipping a bulging leather purse from his belt. It was worn and bore a flaking image of a tawny gold lion. ‘The man who hired me promised me riches that could pay a whole legion for a year. This is but a downpayment.’ He held out the purse to Gallus, shaking it with a thick clunking of coins. ‘I will let you have this,’ he said, his eyes glinting. ‘You could retire, live the life of a senator or a noble with your family?’ he searched Gallus’ eyes. ‘Just put me ashore.’
    Gallus glowered at the man, his knuckles whitening on the hilt of his spatha, the tip of the blade poking into the man’s skin. Pavo was sure he would swipe the pirate’s head from his shoulders. Then, when a droplet of blood trickled from the man’s neck, Gallus blinked, as if woken from some trance. ‘Centurion Zosimus . . . put this man ashore,’ Gallus said stonily, sheathing his spatha and turning from the man to stride to where the beneficiarius and his crew had established a gangplank between the two interlocked vessels
    ‘Sir?’ Zosimus frowned as Gallus swept past him. Then realisation dawned. ‘Ah, right, with pleasure, sir.’
    The pirate leader held the purse out towards Zosimus, grinning weakly.
    Zosimus looked him up and down, then swung a tree-trunk leg up and into the man’s crotch. The resulting thud conjured a chorus of pained gasps from the watching men of the century. The pirate leader could only mouth some obscenity soundlessly as he doubled over, eyes bulging. Zosimus turned away from the man and jabbed his elbow back sharply. The captain fell from the side of the vessel, flailing, then plunged below the waves.
    Pavo stared at the spot where he had stood, and heard the man’s last gurgling cries of terror before they were cut short and replaced by the ripping of meat and crunching of bone. He felt not a pinch of sympathy for the man as he counted eighteen felled legionary comrades lying still on the bloodied decks. He sheathed his spatha, nodded to Sura and followed the century