waterway measured over two hundred meters across, making it a formidable force of nature. In the distance could be seen the burning Shashidan riverside town to which the empire’s troops laid siege.
The town would eventually be taken, Vespasian knew. Then his forces could recommence their advance downriver and seize the remaining towns standing in their way. Soon his invasion would cross these broad, useless flatlands and reach a mountainous area through which the raging Alarik flowed. According to Vespasian’s intelligence reports, it was there that the Shashidan mines would be found, their massive deposits having been slowly laid bare as the Alarik spent countless centuries carving its way through the mountains.
Hurrying to his chariot, Vespasian quickly jumped aboard, and Lucius followed suit to stand beside him. Taking the reins from his horse handler, Vespasian snapped the whip, and his two white stallions charged down the hill with the gleaming white and gold chariot in tow.
The awe-inspiring scene was like some bizarre warrior’s dream. While trumpets blared and drums rolled, hundreds of thousands of armed legionnaires, bowmen, archers, and lancers marched side by side in lockstep down the hill toward the enemy city in uncountable rows measuring half a league wide. Dark Rustannican barges laden with yet more men and war materiel sailed down the mighty Alarik to take part in the siege. Giant war machines engineered by thePon Q’tar sat in countless rows, their vast numbers quiet for now but threatening to pour forth death and destruction at any moment. Monstrous war beasts conjured for this campaign lumbered down the hill and cried out to one another under the watchful eyes of legionary animal handlers, their huge numbers causing the earth to tremble beneath their feet.
North of the command tents lay countless square leagues of conquered grasslands, their endless swells covered with the much-needed support mechanisms that sustained Vespasian’s monstrous advance. Thousands of provision wagons and camp tents provided refuge and work areas for the legions’ armorers, fletchers, cooks, surgeons, paymasters, prostitutes, and more, their vast numbers stretching northward as far as the eye could see. Mammoth supply lines snaked across the landscape to provide the goods, armaments, and manpower needed to sustain the gargantuan invasion force.
Whipping his horses again, Vespasian continued down the slope toward the stricken Shashidan town. He soon saw the flames that were ravaging the city and smelled the telltale odor of burning flesh. As his legions parted to clear a path for their emperor’s chariot, the soldiers cheered and saluted. Taking the reins in one hand, Vespasian saluted them in return.
Soon he and Lucius came upon yet more of the legions’ handiwork. Wanting to take a closer look, Vespasian pulled hard on the reins and slowed his stallions to a walk, steering them rightward onto a dirt road running alongside the Alarik River that led directly into the burning town. Like the slope he and Lucius had just descended, the dusty road was choked with eager legionnaires on their way to finish the job of destroying the city and killing what remained of the town’s inhabitants and soldiers. As their chariot slowed, Vespasian and Lucius looked first to one side of the road, then the other, taking in the results of the emperor’s imaginative orders.
No slaves would be taken in this war, Vespasian had decreed. This far from home, prisoners were nothing more than liabilities to feed and care for, and no extra personnel or supplies were to be made available for such useless compassion. But that did not mean that certain Shashidans could not be put to good use.
To instill terror among the populace, Vespasian had ordered that his tribunes take several thousand Shashidan civilians and soldiers alive. Their protracted deaths would serve as a warning to those who would dare defy the empire. Looking along the opposing roadsides, Vespasian reviewed those unfortunate Shashidans who had been chosen to serve as his object lessons.
Thousands of long, sturdy timbers had been pounded into the ground along either side of the road down which the legions thronged. Near the top of each timber, a shorter one had been placed at right angles to the first and then inserted into a carved notch. Wooden plugs pounded through the shorter timber into the longer one held the arrangement in place.
Naked Shashidan men-military and civilian alike-hung upside down from the sturdy crossbraces. Their ankles had been tied to the ends of the crossbraces, and their bodies and arms hung downward to face each other from opposite roadsides. With their legs widely splayed and their blood rushing to their heads, their deaths from exposure to the elements would be slow and agonizing. To prevent escape, legion officers segregated those with endowed blood, then wiped their memories clean of the craft.
Many of these victims were already dead, but as Vespasian and Lucius kept going they soon neared those who had been recently hung and remained alive. They would die soon, Vespasian knew, for his legionnaires were strictly obeying the other part of his orders.
As the legionnaires walked by, from time to time they reached up with their spears or gladii to poke at the dangling victims. Each of the countless jabs was to be short, clean, and expertly done. The goal was not to kill the victims straightaway but to see how long they could survive such exquisite pain. The stronger the subject was, the longer it took him. So as to prolong the spectacle, Vespasian ordered that only healthy men be subjected to this traditional brand of Rustannican butchery. The process was calledmortem obirein incisurae, or “death by a thousand cuts.”
To Vespasian’s amusement, one victim had the courage to shout an epithet as the emperor drove by. Pulling his horses to a stop, Vespasian looked at him. The Blood Royal knew that he was a Shashidan soldier because his unique battle armor had been stripped from him and lay scattered by the roadside, and because of his unique hairstyle. Hundreds of bleeding wounds pierced the man’s torso, face, extremities, and genitals. If the cuts were done right, the victims died from slow exsanguination. But even the expert legionaries sometimes cut too long or too deep. If they did so, the victims’ internal organs became exposed and eventually slipped from the body cavity to fall earthward before their faces, making them the suspended prisoners’ last sight before dying.
So that the man might know his identity, Vespasian removed his helmet. Vespasian found that staring into the man’s upside-down bloody face was a disorienting experience. Like all tribunes, Pon Q’tar members, and Heretics, Vespasian spoke perfect Shashidan. Shaking his head with disgust, he turned to look at Lucius.
“Such subhumans these Shashidans are,” he said. “Do you see how they persist in shaving their heads? And what bizarre armor they wear!”
Vespasian again looked into the man’s eyes. “What is your name?” he asked in the man’s native dialect.
The prisoner seemed to be somewhere near thirty Seasons of New Life, and despite his wretched condition he possessed a modicum of vitality. Hatred filled his eyes as he stared back at Vespasian. Like all katsugai mosota, the top of his head was shaved. The gold ornament that usually held his queue in place had been stolen by some greedy legionary, allowing his long black hair to dangle earthward. Rather than being a war crime, stealing the traditional gold ornament was considered an extra payment for doing the dirty job of stripping filthy Shashidan barbarians and hanging them from the makeshift crosses. Some of the more industrious legionnaires owned hundreds of the gold trinkets, which they proudly displayed on their body armor or sent home to their wives, lovers, or mistresses.
When the man did not answer, Vespasian moved his chariot nearer.
“I demand to know your name!” he shouted.
“I am Akeno of the House of Bamboo,” the man answered. Much to the emperor’s and Lucius’ surprise, the man smiled, his bloody lips bizarrely curving earthward rather than upward. The effect was strangely chilling.
“I have recently come from the south,” Akeno said. “I prayed that I might live long enough to see you ride by, you illegitimate Vagaries bastard. I am an acquaintance of theInkai, and I have a warning for you.”
Incensed by the Shashidan’s insult, Lucius immediately drew his gladius, but Vespasian grabbed his arm. Clenching his jaw, Lucius grudgingly sheathed his sword.
“What is your message?” Vespasian demanded.
Once more the bloody inverted smile appeared. “TheJin’Sai is coming to Shashida,” the captive answered. “He might already be among us. Rustannica’s days are numbered, Vespasian. If you value your life and the lives of your troops you will stop this mad invasion and go home. You will need every one of your vaunted legionnaires when theJin’Sai comes for you and the barren whore that is your empress.”
Although the news was highly valuable and Vespasian would later curse himself for not interrogating the prisoner further, this time even he could not contain his rage. Summoning but a tiny fraction of his power, Vespasian raised one arm and sent an azure bolt tearing toward the dangling katsugai.
The bolt blew the man to pieces, sending blood and offal high into the air. The resulting noise was so great that even the disciplined legionnaires marching by stopped to look. For several moments Vespasian’s stallions reared violently, nearly sending the chariot tumbling sideways to the ground.
