Final Campaign

while I waited for him. Much youngerthan I was, he had a full beard, slightly unusual for a Thracian,his features showing some Greek heritage in his blood, which wasnot unusual at all. His armor was extremely high quality, and eventhrough the mass of bodies, I could see it gleaming from where ithad been highly polished. Just before we reached each other,another Thracian armed with a short spear and a round shield made ajabbing lunge at me, moving more quickly than I thought possible,and I barely managed to deflect his thrust with my shield. It wasnot an exceptionally hard blow, except that my shield had alreadybeen weakened by the number of arrow strikes it had taken, so thateven above the din of the fighting, I could hear the clear sound ofwood splintering, a huge crack opening in the shield. Starting justbelow and to the left of the boss from where I was holding it, thecrack extended all the way down to the bottom, the only thingkeeping it from gaping wide open the metal strip around the edge.The Thracian with the spear had recovered his weapon quickly tomake another lunge at me, but because of his rapid recovery, hisaim was off, the point simply glancing off the outer edge of myshield. I gave what might have seemed like a casual shrug of myleft shoulder that in fact had most of my weight behind it, meaningthat the natural momentum of his miss was multiplied, throwing himoff balance, making him take a staggering step to his right. Hisspear continued on to strike the wall next to us and, for a briefinstant, the point stuck in the mortar between two rocks. This gaveme all the opening I needed, and I dispatched him with a quickthrust that shot through the small gap between the inner edge ofhis shield and his weapon hand. In the space of time no more thanfifty heartbeats long, I had killed four men, but now the tallThracian and I were facing each other with nobody between us. Isensed Macrinus, seeing this new threat, take a step forward, and Iwarned him off.

“I want him,” I told Macrinus, who lookeddisappointed before turning back to face another of the enemy.

My adversary gave a grim smile when steppingforward, holding his sword out low and to his side, telling me thathe had some skill with his blade. His shield was emblazoned with ahammered bronze head that looked like a gorgon, or might have beena symbol of the rising sun, and was as polished as his scale armor.If the sun had been shining off it, I could easily see it beingdazzling enough to blind an opponent, so at least luck was with mein that respect. As often happened, my vision seemed to narrow downto a tunnel where only he existed, a dangerous thing I know, yet Ihad the utmost faith that Macrinus would protect my weak side, andthere was nothing to my left but rock. In fact, that was the oneadvantage I had; my Thracian opponent was limited in his lateralmovement to his right, or offensive side, while the rock face ofthe gateway acted like an extension of my shield. This helpedcompensate for the fact that my shield was one sharp blow away frombeing useless, or so I hoped. Watching each other for a moment,looking for an opening, it was the Thracian who moved first, with ablinding speed that reminded me of my childhood friend, now dead,Vibius Domitius, who was simply the quickest man I had ever faced,in practice or in combat. I don’t know that this Thracian wasquicker, but he was at least as fast as Vibius, and I honestly donot know how I parried his first thrust with my blade, yet I did. Ifelt the shock travel up my arm, making my hand tingle from thepower behind it, once again the grip I had learned from Viniciussaving me from having my sword knocked from my hand. Just asquickly, the man recovered, and I saw a small smile playing on hislips. I returned it with my own grim smile, but I was not feelingparticularly optimistic. I saw his shield drop just a bit, yet myonly response was a slight shake of my head, telling him that I wasmuch too old and experienced to fall for such a ruse. Somethingflashed in his eyes at my refusal just before he launched anotherattack, not content with a single thrust. Unleashing a series ofblows, his blade flickered around my defenses, each thrust andslash like a strike from one of the heads of a Hydra, coming soquickly one after the other that they seemed simultaneous. Two moreof his blows I blocked with my shield, and I could hear anothercrackling sound, the split opening even further. All it would takewas one more solid strike to cause my shield to split in half,making it practically useless, and I could see the daylightextending up past my hand, now stopping just above the boss.Knowing that I had to do something to relieve the pressure, Iunleashed my own counterattack, and despite my thrusts being slowerthan his; what they lacked in speed, they made up for in power. Thesmile on his lips disappeared as I forced him to stagger back, butI was seriously hampered because I could not use my shield the waywe were trained to do, since it is just as much of an offensiveweapon to Romans as defensive. Recovering quickly after parrying myblows, the Serdi tried to regain the ground I had forced him togive up. Again, my arm ached as I desperately worked to deflect allof his attacks with my blade and not my shield. Sensing that I wasfavoring my shield, he shifted to his right as far as he daredwhile still having enough room to wield his blade freely. Inconjunction, he suddenly shifted from a lunging attack to anoverhand downward blow, lifting his blade high above his head butstill protecting himself with his shield. Bringing his sword downin a sweeping arc, I had no other choice than to use my shield toavoid being split