Lykoi

Praise for Eagles and Dragons Publishing and author, Adam Alexander Haviaras…

Historic Novel Society:

…Haviaras handles it all with smooth skill. The world of third-century Rome—both the city and its African outposts—is colorfully vivid here, and Haviaras manages to invest even his secondary and tertiary characters with believable, three-dimensional humanity.

Amazon Readers:

Graphic, uncompromising and honest… A novel of heroic men and the truth of the uncompromising horror of close combat total war…

Raw and unswerving in war and peace… New author to me but ranks along side Ben Kane and Simon Scarrow. The attention to detail and all the gory details are inspiring and the author doesn't invite you into the book he drags you by the nasal hairs into the world of Roman life sweat, tears, blood, guts and sheer heroism. Well worth a night’s reading because once started it’s hard to put down.

Historical fiction at its best! … if you like your historical fiction to be an education as well as a fun read, this is the book for you!

Loved this book! I'm an avid fan of Ancient Rome and this story is, perhaps, one of the best I've ever read.

An outstanding and compelling novel!

I would add this author to some of the great historical writers such as Conn Iggulden, Simon Scarrow and David Gemmell. The characters were described in such a way that it was easy to picture them as if they were real and have lived in the past, the book flowed with an ease that any reader, novice to advanced can enjoy and become fully immersed…

One in a series of tales which would rank them alongside Bernard Cornwell, Simon Scarrow, Robert Ludlum, James Boschert and others of their ilk. The story and character development and the pacing of the exciting military actions frankly are superb and edge of your seat! The historical environment and settings have been well researched to make the story lines so very believable!! I can hardly wait for what I hope will be many sequels! If you enjoy Roman historical fiction, you do not want to miss this series!

Goodreads:

… a very entertaining read; Haviaras has both a fluid writing style, and a good eye for historical detail, and explores in far more detail the faith of the average Roman than do most authors.

LYKOI and The Carpathian Interlude series

Copyright © 2014 by Adam Alexander Haviaras

Eagles and Dragons Publishing, Stratford, Ontario, Canada

All Rights Reserved.

The use of any part of this publication, with the exception of short excerpts for the purposes of book reviews, without the written consent of the author is an infringement of copyright law.

ISBN: 978-0-9918873-2-3

E-Pub Edition

Cover design by LLPix Photography

Contents

Join the Legions!

Part II

Lykoi

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About the Author

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Lykoi

The Carpathian Interlude

Adam Alexander Haviaras

To the Shades of the Fallen,

Those who have fought for Good

in the dark corners of the world.

PART II

Lykoi

October - A.D. 9

The rain fell hard upon Publius Quinctilius Varus and his remaining men. They were exhausted and hungry, but they had to keep moving at any cost. They had to reach an open space where they could dig in and fight.

With the rain and the onset of night, the Romans could no longer see their pursuers. But they could hear them. Oh, yes. They could hear them. A sound to chill the Gods themselves.

Use the last of the pitch to light torches, Tribune, Varus commanded. The man obeyed without a word and within minutes, a ring of fire encircled the shield wall that protected the legate, his few remaining officers, and three broken centuries.

How is it possible? Varus wondered. Three centuries left of my three legions…

Varus removed his helmet with the broken crest and looked up at the three golden aquilae of his savaged legions. Firelight played on the golden breasts of those symbols of Rome’s might. The commander thought they still looked proud, strong.

His men were anything but.

For three days they had been harried through the Teutoburg forest, that Germanic Hades. The legions had been ambushed over and over and over…from all sides, at all hours. For days, all Varus had heard were the cries of his men in the black, gnarled woods.

The nights were the worst.

That sound… an incessant howling that tore into one’s person as efficiently as any gladius. Varus closed his eyes in the face of the sputtering rain-slapped torches and tried to imagine his villa at Baiae, the scent of jasmine, the heat of the sun.

But all he felt was the cold, and the wet. All he heard was the terrifying sound of ripping flesh, and the harsh breaking of bones like dried twigs.

Commander! The tribune came up beside Varus. They’re forming up for a charge, sir!

So they are, Tribune. Varus opened his eyes and looked at the surrounding tree lines where black shapes cursed in ugly guttural intonations, spears, scythes, and clubs waving madly at the Romans.

What shall we do, Commander? the tribune pressed.

We shall die, Tribune. Like all the rest.

The tribune shook his head in frustration and moved past Varus. Form up! Prepare to receive attack! he ordered as he placed his helmet on his head and hefted a pilum.

Varus hears the insubordination in the tribune’s voice but thinks only of the eagles and the rain upon his face. He no longer thinks of Arminius and how the man had betrayed him, and Rome. He cares little for the civilians he had abandoned to the Germans once the attacks had begun.

When the pained, tormented, and raging howls of the enemy begin anew, Quinctilius Varus thinks only of the ancestral gladius at his side. When the barbarians’ visages begin to transform, when the teeth begin to gnash and rip through Roman shields, armour, and bone, then does Varus draw his sword and plant the handle in the deep mud.

As the beasts rush in, huge and dark and matted with gore, Varus watches his men crumple on all sides. The body of Varus’ last tribune flies over his head as he drops on his old knees and places the tip of his blade beneath the rim of his ornate cuirass.

Varus falls on his sword, even as Arminius struts up to him and hacks the head from his body without hesitation.

The hunt comes to a violent end as the moon cuts through the clouds and shines upon the field.

It is full, and bright, and all at once, several thousand of the enemy begin to bay at its light.

Thick mist shrouded the early morning fields that surrounded the city of Rome. Peasants and slaves were making their way to the places of their assigned tasks - tilling fields, moving animals from one pasture to another, fixing a water wheel, or loading a wagon. They all moved around in ignorance of the world beyond their everyday.

Gaius Justus Vitalis ran past them every day since he had returned to Rome. But he ignored the labouring drones by the wayside.

He only ran, was driven to do so.

Every morning, Gaius plunged into the pre-dawn darkness to run out of the city along the Via Appia almost all the way to Tarracina, to the south. There, he would drink water, and then return to Rome.

His legs drove on, relentless. His arms pumped hard, timed with his breath.

The peasants and slaves beside the road stared at the shirtless soldier who raced past them every morning as though the Furies were at his heels. He never stopped. His eyes were always forward, his mind elsewhere. They made the sign against evil as he passed, though they knew not why. They did not know of Mithras, or of immortui, nor that the Heliodromus who sped by them had run with a god out of the very depths of Hades.

When he came to the white tomb of Caecilia Metella, Gaius Justus Vitalis, centurion in the legions of Emperor Augustus, lashed himself to a speed unattainable by most men.

Run with me, Sun Runner, the voice in his mind said, urging him on faster and faster until he was at the city gates.

The soldiers had come to know the running centurion well and waved him through at a jog.

Gaius poured sweat as he passed the cliff of the Palatine Hill where the emperor was building his sprawling palace complex. He pressed on up the Caelian Hill to the home that had been in his family for generations, and where his wife and daughters now waited for him to break their fast together.

He rapped on the door and immediately Ludo, the door slave, opened. Gaius entered, touching the image of Mithras on the wall as he passed into the small atrium.

Did you have a good run, Master? Ludo asked, running a hand over his closely shaved head.

Yes, Ludo. I did. Gaius accepted a towel and dried his face, chest and arms.

I do wish you would take Pugio with you, Master. There are bandits on the Via Appia.

Gaius smiled at the old slave who had been his father’s.

"Worry not, Ludo. There are no bandits that would bother me. Besides, Pugio cannot keep up with me. Gladiators are not meant for long distance running.

Nor are dearly-missed husbands who leave their wives’ beds in the small hours.

Gaius turned, smiling for the first time that day, to see Fulvia coming toward him. She wore a silver and blue stola, and her hair fell loosely about her shoulders.

She was the most beautiful woman Gaius had ever seen, and though he had been home over two months on his furlough, he felt each sight of her as sharply as the first time, when he had finally come home to her arms.

Ludo slipped away, beckoning to Nisica, Fulvia’s body slave, to follow him.

Gaius took his wife into his arms and kissed her. She did not shrink from his sweating body.

Good morning, my love, he said.

Good morning to you. It would be even better if you stayed abed, you know. She smiled and ran a finger between the muscles of his chest. I’ve had too many lonely mornings these past years.

Gaius gazed at the floor a moment and then stood back a half step.

I had a particularly brutal dream, and needed to run it out.

Another? Fulvia stepped closer to him. Why do the Gods torment you with these dreams every night?

I don’t think it’s the Gods, my love.

Who then? What? She looked at her husband and remembered him momentarily as he had been - dark and curly of hair, strong, muscular, and calm. Now, Gaius’ hair had gone more to grey and was short. His body was still beautiful and well-muscled, but scarred, angular, tight, and quick as a wild beast’s.

I don’t know, he lied. The laughter of those mountains where his men had been slaughtered, where he had killed his friend, Julius, still echoed in his mind. And with the laughter, dreams of blood, of death and dying, and crimson waves thrashing him.

Gaius? Fulvia’s hand was on his cheek and he realized he had been away for a moment.

It’s nothing. He forced a smile. Go rouse the girls and I’ll bathe quickly.

She smiled a little pitifully, turned, and went to their daughters’ cubiculum.

Master? Pugio’s great bulk appeared down the corridor.