Marius' Mules: Prelude to War Read Online Free PDF

wounded chest, the man who had been using him as a step clung onto the eaves of the building desperately, legs waving in the open air. Cita watched the blue-trousered limbs swinging back and forth in the gap and, timing it as best he could, jabbed out at them. The first two thrusts missed and the man had just managed to achieve a solid handhold and start pulling himself up when the blade finally smashed into his calf, tearing through the muscle. The climber bellowed out in pain but managed to haul his feet up out of the way.
    The prefect had little time to consider matters, however, turning his attention to the third window, where a man had apparently just passed and another was busy putting his foot into the cupped hands of a friend. With gusto, Cita lashed out, smashing his sword at the cupped fingers, breaking a wrist and almost severing a hand before withdrawing and running back to the first window.
    As he dashed across the room he spared a glance upwards for Bennacos, who was now sitting astride the main room-length beam in the rafters, his ankles locked together below to grant him stability as he stabbed up through the thatch with his spear. The roofing was good and thick and waterproof in order to protect the stores below, so there was no hope of the auxiliary seeing any figures above, but fortunately their numbers were currently so few that he could identify where they traversed the roof by the dust and chaff that fell from the thatch beneath their knees - they would all be crawling, since the roof’s pitch would be far too steep for them to walk.
    The sporadic screams from above testified to Bennacos’ success rate, and with his central position and the long reach of the spear there was hardly anywhere on the roof safe from his thrusts.
    With a smile, Cita moved back to the window and began the task of halting the climbers again. He could only hope the men in the barracks and the civilian accommodation and the pairs in the wooden lean-tos at either side were having a similar rate of success. He was under no illusion as to their chances of survival, but he would make the bastards earn this victory with a lake of their blood.
    The process became mechanical: window one - thrust - window two - thrust - window three - thrust - quick glance upwards - cross room and repeat.
    He could not have said how long he’d been at the grisly business when the situation changed.
    A cry came from outside and, though he couldn’t hear the details, the tone made the call’s subject clear: a breach. The stockade or one of the other buildings had fallen. In confirmation, a moment later he heard the optio bellowing the order to fall back to the redoubt.
    ‘Bennacos? They’re in the compound. We’re the last resort now.’
    Whether or not the auxiliary heard he couldn’t say, as the man was far too busy lunging with his spear into the thatch again and again, almost every time fetching a cry of pain from a victim. That boded somewhat and suggested a worryingly high number of figures on the roof now.
    ‘I’ll be back, Bennacos. Be careful. You have to survive this, remember?’
    With a deep breath, white knuckles tightening on the ivory handle of his sword, Cita dashed out of the store room and straight into Hades. The compound was filling with screaming natives, waving their weapons in anticipated victory as they broke through the stockade in three places, a fourth group securing the roof of the civilians’ quarters as they dropped down to join their fellows.
    The remaining legionaries and civilians were running across the clear area of compound for the relative safety of the grain-sack redoubt. Even as Cita scanned the ranks for a rough headcount he saw the optio, bringing up the rear and waving the men on with his staff of office, fall prey to a thrown spear, the bronze leaf-shaped blade emerging through his chest in a spray of crimson, his eyes bulging as he pitched forward suddenly, mid-curse.
    Cita was now the last officer. He