TWENTY-FOUR: GHOST OF THE PAST

  “You should have woken me sooner,” Vira complained as she splashed cold water across her face. No one spoke out as she did so, waiting for their appointed leader to turn to face them as the last rays of day faded away. With the falling of the sun, so did the temperature plummet.

  “Whatever this place is, it is not normal. The forest is hot, day or night, while these hills turn bitter cold only yards away,” Titus complained as he shuffled his steps around, stamping his feet and rubbing his hands together.

  “It is the wilds. We tread barbaric lands filled with dark magic, stay wary,” Vira said, eyes already locked on the far rampart that faced the forest. Worry wore upon everyone’s heart as they slowly walked to the edge of the rampart and looked down as the final embers of light burned away.

  “Can you use your skill?” Vira asked Cassius. He was uncertain if he could or even wanted to, his vision just finished having returned to normal less than an hour past.

  “Do it now or you’ll never be able to use it again,” Valeria said, stamping lightly on his foot. Cassius cursed and winced but activated [Hunter’s Sight] before he could let his own fear stop him. The world turned pale gray, details clear as day as he could see the forest’s edge.

  “It works. There is no pain. I will not push myself as far as last night.” Vira just grunted as she relaxed a bit, leaning against a dry rotted stake.

  “So we all just stay awake and wait?” Titus asked.

  “You can go and sleep if you wish. When your throat is opened, I shall not weep,” Valeria said, a vicious smile on her face. Titus spluttered for a moment, hand reaching out to snatch the pommel of his sword in the dark. Cassius realized if the fool drew his blade, he’d be the only one who could react. After a long moment the haughty noble let his hand fall away, sneering at the vague outline of Valeria he could see.

  “We shall take turns resting. Cassius, I want you to use your skill after five or so minutes, just a quick glimpse before turning it off. Nobody wanders off,” Vira ordered. Nobody wished to do that, regardless of their feelings, rather they gathered together near the front of the camp.

  Every second on the hilltop the air grew colder, biting through his skin, seeping into his bones. The others gathered closer, using cloaks or blankets in their packs to wrap around themselves. Cassius was the only one on watch and was forced to draw his own stained and filthy cloak around himself as he kept watch.

  An uncomfortable silence was held, broken only by the clatter of trembling teeth or one of them asking if Cassius saw anything. The constant flickering of the skill didn’t trouble him like holding constantly had, though as the night stretched out nothing came from the forest.

  “Why would they push us out, if only to not finish us?” Leto complained. He was wedged against his kinsman, blankets and cloaks making him nothing more than a lumpy bundle on the ground.

  “I know not. None of us do. Stop asking,” Titus growled at him.

  “They wanted us on the hill or out of the forest.” When Vira spoke, the prickly nobleman didn’t try to quiet her.

  Cassius turned away from their quiet discussion to look back into the center of the camp. His blood froze cold as he stared at the ghastly shape rising from the earth, pale luminous silver, dressed in a centurion’s armor. It was a broad man, half of his face had been torn asunder, trails of bone and flesh hanging as he slowly stepped toward them on silent feet.

  “Turn around, slowly,” Cassius whispered to the others. The phantasm drifted slowly forward, limbs still as its glowing eyes kept their gaze firmly locked on Valeria. The entire group shifted to see it and erupted as one, none of them moving slowly.

  All of the nobles attempted to draw their swords, but the blankets and cloaks they’d buried themselves in hindered their draw. Valeria threw the outer edge of her blanket free as she stood up, shield positioned between the group and the spirit. Cassius leapt, pushing himself off the small ledge of dirt to land next to her, shield to shield.

  The spirit slowed as he saw the two shields locked side to side, eyes growing brighter as he drew up straight, standing taller than both of them. Its mangled mouth opened and sound came out. Gurgling, like a man choking, before it cleared and a raspy voice came from the centurion.

  “Hail, legionnaire.” The entire group froze as the spirit didn’t attack or haunt them, but spoke their tongue, even if it was a strange accent.

  “Who…who are you?” Valeria stammered between chattering teeth, the bitter cold still sapping them.

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  “Centurion Aurelian Malleum, of the legio primus,” the centurion rasped out. It still hadn’t moved. Everyone’s breath misted the air in great plumes while the ghost stood unbothered by it.

  “The lost legion, I told you,” Valeria said. Cassius didn’t reply, couldn’t, as his jaw was locked tight to keep his teeth from chattering.

  “Is that what we became? The lost legion? Then the First Consul never returned back?”

  “The First Consul and the legio primus ventured beyond the Shifting Wall and none returned. It is well known,” Titus barked. His voice was loud in the cold air, louder by far than the long-dead centurion.

  “Silence patrician. Your cowardly bloodlines are the ones who damned us,” centurion Aurelian snarled. From somewhere beyond the ghost there were the sounds of screaming, the din of battle, pleas of mercy. Cassius blinked and leaned in, trying to hear it more clearly, but the sounds left as fast as they had begun.

  “You, legionnaire who carries our superbia. I have a task for you, for the honor of our legions, for the brotherhood we share,” the centurion rasped, turning his attention back to Valeria.

  “Speak then,” Valeria said. Cassius wanted to tell her to curb her tongue, but the old warrior seemed to appreciate the candor, launching immediately into his tale.

  “When we crossed the Protective Wall, we were too many for the land to support. The consul and general split us apart, two cohorts to head far west and two far east, while the remaining six cohorts would push up the middle.”

  Cassius blinked as his mind stumbled over the numbers. A full legion was only five cohorts, each made of five centuries. He opened his mouth to ask, but Aurelian kept going before he could say anything.

  “Tribune Celsa ordered us to hold the far western flank. Split two of her centuries off, I was the junior of our officer corp. We made camp here on these hills after fighting our way through the forest. We had taken losses as the forest was wild with beasts and monsters. On the second day we realized that these weren’t hills, they are cairns.”

  “What is a cairn?” Cassius asked as the entire group grew still.

  “An old way of burying important dead. They were not given to the fire as is our custom, but rather a monument was erected over their corpse,” Vira explained.

  Cassius looked down at his feet and thought of the size of the hill he stood on. He couldn’t imagine what it was that lay down there, beneath his feet, to warrant something of this size.

  “This one is an entrance to a dungeon. My brother centurion was too excited about it and pushed us to explore it while looking at the other cairns for my riches. The dungeon is difficult, but conquerable with rich rewards. I was the first through with four others, none of them past their first tier, and we finished it. When we emerged fighting had broken out across all the cairns. The dead rose to protect what was theirs.”

  “Don’t enter the cairns,” Vira said with a violent shudder.

  “If it was that easy, more would have lived. There is a monster out there, a wraith, that came to consume our souls and command the dead. Monsters were drawn from deeper in the wilds, the scent of blood too heavy for them to ignore. By the second night we were wiped out to the last man. The wraith comes to eat on our souls when we rise. I am all that’s left,” the centurion’s voice was filled with agony as he spoke.

  “What is this wraith?” Vira asked. The centurion didn’t say another word, just floated there with his burning eyes locked on Valeria. Vira nudged the other woman, enough to stir Valeria free of her idleness to ask the question again.

  “I know not. It was cloaked from any skill to name it, but it was a tall, deathly pale creature that consumed the remnants of the century after our bodies fell. I am all that remains,” the centurion repeated again, voice lacking the intent it had earlier, as if reciting lines to a play.

  “That is strange,” Vira said, voicing the worries they all had.

  “Centurion, what is your purpose?” Valeria asked, suddenly on guard.

  “I stand the last of my brothers. Enter the dungeon and find the artifact that the wraith left behind. Free them so they may rest,” Aurelian said, voice still stone cold. His form began to dissolve, fading away slowly until nothing was left.

  “I have never seen a more blatant trap,” Titus scoffed as he turned to look back at the forest. Cassius followed his gaze, snapping [Hunter’s Sight] on as he looked down the hill. Nothing stirred from the forest.

  “We are still alone.” Cassius’ announcement helped ease the tension as swords were resheathed.

  “It grows colder by the moment,” Leto said, hunched over in his own thin blankets that he plucked from the ground. Cassius looked at their feet and saw that ice had begun to form in the dirt, each breath a burning brand wedged down his throat.

  “We may be forced into the dungeon by the chill. It is not yet halfway through the night and already we suffer,” Cassius said. Vira hummed to herself as she looked around at the lost camp.

  “It is a trap. That much we can all agree upon. Whatever that was, it was not the true soul of a legion centurion. I have no desire to freeze to death here, or to find myself filled with arrows in the forest, what does that leave us?” Vira asked as she gathered her own thin layers to ward off the cold.

  “Into the dungeon,” Cassius said, repressing a shudder of his own.

  “Into the dungeon,” the others slowly agreed as with every passing moment the chill worsened. Cassius grabbed his pack, strapping it to himself as he checked to make sure both of his canteens were filled.

  “Move quickly. Cassius take the lead,” Vira said, pushing him away from the forest and to the far side of the slope. Cassius moved his feet, hurrying toward the edge, but a thought nagged at his mind.

  If this was a trap, and of that they were sure. Then those who had chased them out of the forest knew it was a trap, or at least that something was wrong in these hills. What was their pursuer's end goal?