Ocean Gods, Roman Blades

By Andrew Knighton

Ancient history meets epic fantasy in an action packed novella of war, magic and one man's struggle to find himself.

Varus is the fiercest soldier in the Roman legion, and the most undisciplined. Fighting Thracian pirates on the high seas, he faces attacks not just from spears and arrows, but from divine magic. With the enemy closing in, Varus faces a desperate battle for survival, made worse by his own divided instincts. Will Roman blades be strong enough to survive against ocean gods?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Knighton
• Release date: Feb 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386499725

Andrew Knighton

Andrew Knighton is a freelance writer and an author of science fiction, fantasy, and steampunk stories. He lives in Yorkshire with his cat, his computer, and a big pile of books.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1: THIS MAN KILLS

The lash burned Varus’s back more than the sun did. Each stroke blazed angrily against his skin even as the sound of the whip snapped out over the sea, as steady in its rhythm as the drummer beating time. Varus cursed Julius under his breath, dry whispers against decani obsessed with discipline in their squads and against the hand that cracked the whip. But though his wrists were pinched by the manacles fixing him to the mast, at least out here on deck he felt alive. He would always take a lashing over time locked in the hold.

He stiffened as the blows grew harder. He would not show any weakness. The red beast of anger filled his body, giving him the strength to stand. Julius would not break him.

Quiet fell, the whip hanging limp as Julius caught his breath. Blood dripped onto the planks, spattering and darkening in the midday heat.

‘This is what happens if you break ranks.’ Julius wasn’t just addressing his own squad, stood ramrod straight as they watched their comrade’s punishment. He was addressing all the legionaries on the ship, armoured and at attention for the brutal display. ‘This is what happens if you ignore orders. But this is not all.

‘The legion lives together and it dies together. Not like these pirates we fight, these Thracian dogs. They act alone, masters of chaos, and it makes them strong. But we have something stronger.

‘The legion lives by order or it dies by chaos. Never forget that.’

The drum started up again and Varus felt the lash against his back, the pain all the more jolting for the pause. Julius knew how to make discipline work.

Everyone broke in the end. Even Varus knew that. The red beast made it hard for him to give in, to let Julius win before the lash killed him. But eventually that time came. The pain wore down the fury, leaving behind the part of him that could recognise how badly he was hurt.

Varus’s knees buckled and he slumped at the mast, manacles digging into his hands, his weight straining the muscles in his arms.

The whip stopped. Footsteps approached from behind. Rancid breath whispered against his cheek.

‘I know you, Legionary Falco.’ Julius’s words were for Varus’s ears only, a moment of horrible intimacy. ‘I know that this isn’t over. But you should know, I will make a proper soldier of you yet.’

A different drumbeat came towards them across the water, and with it a bellowing of horns. Now Julius was at attention as the splash of back-rowing oars was followed by the thud of a boarding plank.

Their long-promised new commander was here.

Varus raised his head just enough to watch the new arrivals cross the deck and ascend the aft-castle. The one who moved to the rail, looking out across the legionaries like a merchant assessing beef in the store, would be Gaius Livius Avitus. The senator and general was less impressive than his reputation. An average looking man with curly blond hair and a few wrinkles on his craggy face. He wore his chain-mail casually, his sword slung low for a quick draw.

The man beside him, still within the protective arc of a dozen legionary bodyguards, was more striking. Even at a distance there was something piercing about his eyes, staring out from beneath a dark cloud of thick hair. His armour gleamed like his slaves had been oiling it all day, and his sword was worn high at the waist, showing off the lion’s head pommel.

‘You know who I am,’ General Avitus said. ‘I know who you are. Most are loyal, hard fighting men who will give their all for Rome. The failures of the past two years are not yours, but those of your commanders. Be assured, those failures are at an end. We will drag these pirates out of their holes, burn their ships, bestow upon them the suffering they have inflicted on honest merchants. They will know the fury of Rome.’

He left a pause for the legionaries to cheer. Varus didn’t join in. It was just more hollow words, like the last commander and the one before him. Rhetoric to be reported in the senate, to make this blowhard feel good about himself. Well piss on rhetoric, and piss on the senators who spouted it.

‘Some of you are made of weaker stuff.’ Avitus was pointing at Varus now, though not bothering to look over and see his face. ‘To those I say - learn from your discipline or die from it. Either way, you have earned your due.’

Avitus turned away from the rail, frowning as