Chapter 21

Devnum

Lucilla ducked back from Cynwrig’s swing, whipping her wooden practice blade around in a slashing motion, coming down under his swing in a counter, and for a second she thought she had him, until his knee tapped the side of her temple.

She knew that, if he’d wanted, he could have dropped her with the blow, knocking her out or even smashing pieces of her skull into her brain. The Caledonian who now served as one of her protectors had partially taken over her training from Modius, who wasn’t thrilled by the substitution, but deferred to her judgement.

Besides the point that it was one more step in her own small efforts towards nation building, Cynwrig made the excellent point that the Caledonian way of fighting was markedly different from the Roman style. While he agreed, grudgingly, that the Romans were better in massed formation, he argued that the Caledonians were more skilled in one-on-one fighting, especially in the chaotic melees like the one that occurred during the attempt on her life. She’d been swayed by his arguments, and genuinely interested in learning a different style. The more she’d practiced with her guards, the more she’d found she both enjoyed the experience and found the subject fascinating.

She also realized quickly how lucky she had gotten during the wrestling match. At the time, she thought he’d just been young and inexperienced, prejudging him just as much as he’d prejudged her. It was only sheer luck that his underestimation of her had been the greater mistake of the two. If she was a Caledonian, he would have easily beaten her.

“No, stupid woman. Only a fool leans into their enemy, extending their necks like a lamb prepared for slaughter.”

Modius frowned at the clear breach of protocol, but Lucilla stood up and just nodded at the correction. She understood that Cynwrig didn’t mean it as a personal attack, it was just the blunt nature of how the north men dealt with things.

“If I lean back, I wouldn’t have the range to do more than scratch you with the tip of the sword.”

“You need to reposition your body. Don’t just stand still and bend over, turn as you bend, and away from the cut, giving you the range with which to reach your opponent without offering yourself up as their next victim.”

“Okay. Let’s do it again.”

She set herself up to go again when a voice screamed in her head.

“Lucilla, we...” Sophus began to say, and then abruptly cut off.

Every time she’d heard the disembodied voice speak, it had been calm and evenly measured, with no sense of emotion. This time, there still wasn’t a sense of emotion, at least in the way she thought about it. But the volume and speed that the message started with and then abruptly ended gave her the strong feeling of something major being wrong.

It had been so sudden and loud, that the attack she had just started turned into a stumble, ended with her flat on the ground, thankful that her reflex response was to put her hands out and keep her face from smashing into the ground.

“Are you okay?” Modius asked, rushing to her side to help her out.

“Something’s happened,” she said, without really thinking.

She knew, deep inside her, what had happened. Although she still didn’t understand the mechanics of it, Sophus and Ky had made it clear how much danger the two of them were in from whatever invisible force was smashing them together into one being. Sophus’s sudden alarm and then silence could only mean that the thing they’d warned her about had happened.

Of course, none of the men around her knew about her invisible friend and the danger it and Ky were in.

“Were you injured?” Cynwrig asked.

“No. Ky’s in danger. I must go see my father.”

She turned and hurried towards the palace, still holding her practice sword, the guards suddenly rushing to keep up with her.

Her father and Velius were in a private session with the Pontiff Maximus and several lower priests, sacrificing a pair of goats as part of a ceremony to gain the gods favor in the upcoming battle. All of the men turned suddenly, and had very different reactions.

The Pontiff Maximus, a pompous man who Lucilla had never gotten along with, turned red and looked ready to yell at her for interrupting the ceremony while the under-priests all looked to him, knowing the man’s legendary temper, especially with women.

Her father, however, cut the man off when he pushed himself up and ran to his daughter, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Even without the obvious distress on her face, it would have been clear that she was in some kind of distress. She was in a simple, lose fitting knee length tunic he knew she wore during her training session and was still holding her wooden training sword. It made for a strange sight compared to all of the men in the small temple to Zeus dressed in ceremonial toga’s and regal accouterments.

“Something’s happened to Ky. I need to go North and find him.”

“Was there a messenger?” Her father asked, turning to Velius.

Since no one knew about her connection with Ky, her father and everyone else would have assumed anything he needed to communicate with them would have come by messenger, and any messenger would have been one of the praetorian or legion men, since that was who was still up by the border.

“No, Principes.”

“I didn’t recieve a message, I just know that he’s in trouble and needs help.”

“My Lady, I know you care deeply for the Consul, but I’ve seen him in the thick of battle with no blade touching him. I assure you there is nothing in the north that could put him in danger.”

His tone was respectful and she was sure Velius had good intentions, but besides not having all of the information she had, he had some of the same prejudices against women that most of the men in Rome had. They were all ready to dismiss her concern as foolish female hysteria.

Thankfully, her father knew both her and Ky better than that. He’d received some of Ky’s magic, even if Ky refused to call it that, when he was healed by one of Ky’s devices. Now that she had some of the small devices that Ky had released into both her and her father, she knew how much better they could make someone feel. It was impossible to distinguish it from mystical god-like powers, and Ky and Sophus had tried to explain the small machines to her. This gave her father some notion of Ky’s abilities.

“Father,” she said, looking at him levelly, her tone even and steady. “I’m telling you he’s in mortal danger.”

“Legate, get together a century,” he said to the commander, making it clear he was taking her report seriously.

“It’s not the kind of danger that soldiers can fix. I can’t explain it, but I know that he needs my help. I am going to him ... today.”

“My lady, we’ve picked up two more scouts. The Carthaginians are coming, and they’re coming soon. I don’t think they’re waiting for all of the snows to melt anymore. The Consul left you in charge and we need your guidance. Besides, even with our new allies, the roads are dangerous, especially if you travel north of the border. If something does happen to the Consul, I’m not sure the Empire can survive losing both of you.”

“I appreciate your reliance on me, Legate, but I’ve been at every council of war and several of your training maneuvers, and you don’t need me. You know Ky’s battle plan as well as I do, better actually, since I can’t appreciate some of the tactical specifics the way you can. I appreciate your concern, but I will have Caledonian guards as well as Roman, which should help offset any problems once we cross the border, so what is your actual concern?”

Velius looked away. They both knew his concern was her going off by herself again. While she might be able to write it off as a reaction to what happened to her the last time, she knew a good part of it was just also the built in prejudices towards women by all Romans, regardless of their position in society or who their father might be.