Olimpia

Excerpt From The Mad Scholar's Wall—

We stood in an idyllic glade with no explanation of how we got there.

I was in the center of the glade on a slight rise, gathered together with the other camp followers. I remember looking at the legion positioned around our hill.

No one could explain why the Ninth Legion's cohorts circled around the camp followers. Not that anyone complained in the end.

One second we were marching down the road at night in the rain, complaining. The next moment we stood in the field at noon on a midsummer's day, entirely rearranged.

Why were the cohorts positioned around us? Why were their swords drawn and shields raised, ready for combat? Most, if any, will know how we got there. How could we? For who but the gods could answer our questions.

And I have long accepted their decision to send us here without an explanation.

But I am grateful they sent us prepared. As there is no way we would have survived without that advantage.

For the beastmen, in all their mindless savagery, made their appearance within our first minutes of entering this strange new land.

**********

I felt four pulse messages signaling an ambush and call for assistance, one of which abruptly ended mid-send. The mental energy ripples that must have torn across the valley, carrying a desperate cry for aid, caused me to freeze in momentary shock.

There was only one reason a pulse would cut off… And that was death. If one was killed… They're all dead. I thought with confidence.

I had long grown used to seeing and feeling the death of fellow legionaries. Can't be part of a legion on the border territories and not get used to the death which permeates a battlefield.

It was the coordination of the deaths, or more accurately, the attacks. They were too close together. It wasn't normal.

And that did not bode well for my survival.

How did they even find all of us? They shouldn't be able to do that.

Find and attack a few, sure. But finding us all and attacking simultaneously was on a whole different level and was something the beastkin had never done before… A shiver ran down my spine at the train of thought. Something is really wrong.

Snapping out of my thoughts, one of my hands reached for my short sword while the other pushed my torso off the ground allowing me to scoot my legs clear of Markus.

There were at least two enemies nearby, and lying on the ground was a good way to get killed.

Jumping to a crouch, I finished drawing my short sword as I turned right down the hill we climbed up.

Glancing at the arrows buried in the ground to my left side, I followed the trajectory with my eyes. Braking into a run, I searched for the beastkins I knew were hiding in the foliage, even sending out a small pulse.

I did not see or sense anything as I continued moving, making myself a harder target to hit.

Catching a flicker of movement to the side, I dove down the hill, feeling the arrow catch in my cloak. In mid-roll, I heard a thump behind me and the cracking of branches.

Coming to my feet, I pulled back the small tendril I used to hold my arrows in place, my eyes locking on a… shimmer around a bush.

Brows furrowing, I hopped to the side again while extending a tendril at the person-sized shimmering air fifteen feet away.

Before my tendril could extend more than half the distance, it became more blotchy until the center portion completely disappeared, with the edges a collection of swirling colors.

The hole in what I could now see as a bubble in the world revealed the same bush I was looking at before, but now there were three figures in front of it.

The two beastkin had dropped their bows to the ground below their dangling feet as their necks were clamped in Markus's iron grip. Their hands scratched at his fingers, trying to pull them away, but it was like a child fighting an adult.

Sending out a focused pulse, I scanned the area again. I faintly picked up the beastkin and Markus this time, but the minds were not nearly as sharp as they should be.

Looking past the trio to the back of the bubble, I saw the inside of the veil made everything appear slightly gray outside. And it can completely hide their minds.

That thought sent a shiver of terror running down my spine. Moving past what will likely be the cause of my death, I focused on the now.

Quickly checking I was hidden below the rim of the valley, I crouched, getting into my scouting mindset as I moved up the slope to join Markus and his captives.

Seeing him overpower the beastkin, I realized what had happened. Markus didn't like advertising it, but he could enhance his body with mental energy, significantly increasing his strength, speed, and durability.

He wasn't up to the level of a knight, but he was almost there. Not that surprising, really. Markus was dedicated to the craft of casting and had the raw power required to enhance his body. Not pursuing such an advantage as a legionary would be stupid.

Markus must have waited for them to shoot an arrow at me, then used his surging strength to reach them nearly instantly.

As I made my way over, Markus released a massive pulse of energy, calling for a report of any scouts. At the same instant, the entire dome rapidly flickered, then disappeared.

Pausing, I looked at the now completely unobscured figures. It can be overwhelmed? I thought in surprise. That's a big weakness. Then again, who would waste such an amount of mental energy when nothing is around. Because no one will think a scout is there if they're doing their job.

Walking up next to Markus, my eyes snapped into focus as I turned towards the blur of motion followed by a gust of dust and leaves. He was standing over the pair, his face twisted with rage and loss.

Markus must have guessed the death of our squad, like me. And he's the commander…

The two beastkin were writhing on the ground, mouths open in silent screams as every orifice on their head began to bleed.

Markus was using his telepathic powers to rip their minds apart.

I wasn't even sure he was looking for information. He looked more like he was just using them as an outlet for his grief.

The only sound the writhing beastkin made was the rasping of grinding dirt beneath them as they shifted. I stood there for a moment, uncertain of what to do.

Then Markus looked up, catching my eye, before nodding back towards the ridge.

Saluting fist to chest in acknowledgment of the silent order, I turned and started walking. Markus might tolerate me and my casual demeanor most of the time — I was a scout, after all — but all nobles had a limit. And I did not feel like pressing his at the moment.

Gliding back up the slope, I lowered my body to the ground as I reached the summit. No need to outline myself against the sky and make a target.

Crawling up behind a bush, I slowly moved some branches out of the way to get a better view of the valley.

The mass of beastkin warriors moved in one large group across the bottom of the valley.

I could not see all of the beastkin all at once, but I could catch enough glimpses through the treetops that I got a good idea of how large this vanguard was. And it was the biggest I had ever seen.

We were in an overwatch position long enough that we would have any other large groups pass by. This had to be the vanguard. Any group of beastkin more than a few hundred had smaller groups scattered around them. And if that wasn't the case, then there was an even more serious problem going on.

To my trained eye, the group of beastkin looked like an untrained mass of disorder, ready to be smashed by a legion positioned before it.

It was a trap.

Warbands always looked that way, which was one of the main reasons spring tribunes — along with their legionaries — had such a significant casualty rate on their first deployment to the North. They underestimated the beastkin based on appearance alone.

Disorganized as the beastkin might appear, any attack against the group would be instantly responded to with a sudden and savage counterassault. The responses might be basic, like trying to envelop the enemy, but they are done with a surprising level of organization.

It was like the Unity the Legion practiced, allowing them to quickly relay commands across the battlefield and fight as a single entity. No one had ever been able to find the mental links between beastkin, but however it worked for them, the results were the same.

An instant and cohesive response to threats.

And that was assuming that you could surprise them by making it through the hundreds of scouts surrounding any warband this large.

A beastkin force had as much as a fourth, but usually around an eighth, of their total number spread out around them as scouts and outriders.

Even in the short time Markus and I had been busy, the hoard of beastkin had already traveled a little less than half a mile into the three-mile-long valley.

The real terror of a beastkin warband, was the speed at which they moved over any terrain. An average beastman, canine, bear, feline, wolverine, or what have you, can be outrun by a horse going at a decent canter, but only in the short term.

Beastkin, in general, seem to have an endless supply of energy and can have their entire warband move at the equivalent of a fast trot all day and night, day after day.

No legion wanted to be caught flat-footed by a beastkin warband. Either the legion will be hounded relentlessly as they try to retreat and be worn down, or the legion will be set upon before they can build a proper defensive position and have to fight the physically superior beastmen on their terms.

Regardless of what the legatus decides, the legion will sustain heavy losses.

At least they are trying to stay hidden. It will take them longer to reach the Triad. I thought in resignation at the coming conflict.

I briefly thought of the possibility of getting the 15th out here to ambush them in the field but immediately rejected it. By the time we got back and reported their presence, they could be anywhere.

And while they were moving along the bottom of the valleys now, though the trees and rocks as it was hardly seemed to be slowing a beastkin down. They could always go right over the hills.

It would slow them down and take a large bite out of their endurance, but they could do it. Making any ambush nearly impossible. Not even considering this should only be their vanguard…

"Shit~!" I moaned as large shadows flashed across the ground around me, making me break out in a cold sweat.

I clamped my eyes closed for a long moment before I looked up.

My breath caught in my throat, and my heart skipped a beat while my eyes widened in fear.

"Blood and ashes," I said in a hoarse tone, "the crows are gonna feast soon…"

I moved as fast as a slug as I crawled backward, keeping one eye on the sky the whole time, looking for anything else that might be up there.

Then I saw it.

Far off in the distance, I could see a black mass that looked a lot like a storm cloud. Except it was all alone. And second by second, I watched the shape of the mass change as portions speared out before receding.

That's not a cloud.

The dark blot wasn't coming any closer, but then again, it wasn't getting any farther away, either.

I thought I could just make out individual spots of black between the shifting mass and the ground. Some looked like they were diving down, while others looked like they were climbing.

And in the middle of the warband, eight bird beastkin were landing in a clearing.

Casting one last glance at the hawks, I looked on in confusion as I saw them clear out an area in the middle of the now-stopped warband.

Freezing in place, I stopped breathing as the hand of death grasped my heart. I could feel it approaching, and movement was death.

Nothing happened for long seconds, then I saw a streak of gold drop from the sky. Strands of bright yellow fire trailed in its wake, burning in the air for long seconds before vanishing.

The streak of gold crashed to the ground in the center of the eight hawks, and a shimmering wave of gold flecks expanded out, enveloping the clearing.

Rapidly pulling back over the rim as I crawled through the brush, I gave up my attempts at stealth and rushed over to Markus.

Markus was crouched over one of the canine beastkin, hand pressed to their head.

The body of the beastkin was trembling slightly as his eyes were rolled back into its head, and its jaw was clenched.

I knew what he was doing, or at least trying to do.

Markus might have the raw power, but he was far from having the finesse needed to be a reaver. If he gets anything, it will be disjointed. Memory fragments more open to interpretation than fact.

Sliding to a stop next to him, I clapped my hand on his shoulder while keeping one eye on the sky.

We were under a tree at the moment, but it was better to start keeping one eye on the sky now, just in case.

"Markus." I hissed with quiet urgency, trying to get his attention. "Markus!" I said slightly louder, giving him a little shake when he didn't respond.

"What is it, Green!" He said, almost snarling at me, head snapping to the side to look me in the eyes.

Only giving him the briefest of glances to ensure I had his attention, I went back to looking up at the sky.

"That vanguard numbers at least two thousand. And I saw birds land in their center." I saw his face pale and his body rock back like I had just struck him. "There was also a flock of hundreds, if not thousands, a couple valleys to the northwest."

His mouth moved for a moment without any sound coming out.

Finally, I saw him visibly swallow his disbelief and rejection as he spoke in a hoarse, scratchy voice that caught in his throat at first, “Ar— are you sure? Could it have be—

Cutting him off, I said, "Check if you want." Looking him in the eye, I took a deep breath and faced reality as I said, “…I also saw one… control fire." I finished the last in a rush, like I didn't really believe it. After sighing, I continued, "I'm leaving for the legion now."

My eyes caught on the bodies as I turned away, and I paused as I remembered their strange ability to hide. Like I needed to worry about more…

"Did you find out how they were hiding themselves?" I asked as I rocked from heel to toe, anxious to get moving. I had to ask, though. The information was important, and any answers Markus could give would be worth the wait.

Glancing down at the bodies, Markus's face twisted in rage for a moment before he kicked a beastman, gesturing to a broken clump of string, wood, feathers, and a broken stone in its center.

"When I delved into their minds, I got images of this. It… Umm, protected them? Shrouded is probably better…" His voice took on a tone of contemplation, and his eyes clouded over as he drifted off in thought before snapping into focus again. "Doesn't matter. It stopped once I broke the thing. Wasn't even hard. I just stepped on it."

Studying the pile of junk for a moment, I nodded before looking Markus in the eye.

“Sir—

"I know," He said, waving his hand in dismissal, "we have to split up."

Taking a deep breath, Markus closed his eyes. I felt a shiver run down my spine as a wave of mental energy rolled out of him.

He was looking for something, I could tell that much from the pulse, but I had no idea what.

Whatever it was, we didn't have the time.

While he was searching, I began inching away, watching the ridge line.

Scouts, out of every other branch of the Legion, had more… latitude when it came to superiors.

It was not unknown for a scout to disappear right before a battle, not warning their superior — who was abusing them in some way — of a coming attack. All they had to do was claim they had to go to ground to avoid getting caught.

Who could say otherwise? The Inquisitors, I thought in fear, goosebumps rising across my skin.

But it was rare for a centurion or tribune to involve them. If they were wrong, there would be consequences. And depending on what the superior did to the scout for them to act that way, there could be even worse consequences.

So scouts had a very loose chain of command, even with superiors within their own ranks. As long as they came back with valuable information, most things would be overlooked.

Eyeing Markus standing like a statue, eyes still closed, I was a second away from just turning and leaving.

My heart dropped to my stomach when I saw his back stiffen and face go as white as snow.

He turned to me, his eyes wide, and I saw him mouth the word run.

I didn't hear the words, though, because if he said anything at all, it was drowned out by a piercing screech that cracked over the forest.

It was the cry of a predator on the hunt.

If Markus said anything more, I had no idea.

I had already turned and was running down the hill.