Empire Under Siege by Jason K. Lewis

Author:Jason K. Lewis [Lewis, Jason K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9781499739381
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 22404052
Publisher: Createspace
Published: 2014-05-29T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Conlan

THE LEGION BAR WAS full. For once, the soldiers were relishing life rather than courting death. It was a dark and musty building, built, as were all legion bars, to a standard imperial template. The troops had a phrase for the design: ‘no expense spent’, and it seemed fitting to Conlan as he looked around the vast square hall. Low rafters did nothing for the ambiance, leaving the building feeling claustrophobic rather than cosy.

Scattered around the room were the trophies of the Third: shields, armour and other objects captured over centuries of battle. The walls were adorned with paintings and tapestries depicting the illustrious history of the legion, clearly marking the generic building out as different from all the other legion bars scattered throughout the military quarter of Adarna. It belonged to the Third.

A woodsmoke haze filled the top half of the room, making it preferable to sit down in the clearer air below. In every corner voices were raised in alcohol induced merriment – laughing, jeering, shouting and cheering in equal measure.

Conlan had always been a little horrified by how quickly his comrades could forget. It seemed so easy for them to put the terror of battle aside and get on with their lives. They had all lost brothers in the legion – comrades at arms; yet they were able to continue as if nothing of note had happened.

What was the point of it all? Conlan wondered. He had suffered a sense of great loss since his return to the capital. Fitful nights filled with nightmares left him exhausted each morning. The image of the crimson-haired warrior in white armour haunted him, her eyes boring into his mind each night as he lay in his bed. Barely able to function, Conlan had thrown himself into distraction, perfecting indolence by tortuous practice. He sat on a rough-hewn bench, arms resting on a simple trestle table, relishing his anonymity and his beer.

Looking up from his ale, Conlan saw his sword brothers approaching. Lucus - young and brash - grinned like a loon at everyone he passed; Jonas had a telltale bounce in his stride, the confidence of a survivor – no, a hero of the great battle.

How do they disassociate themselves from it all? Or are they just putting on an act, hiding their own inner demons?

“Ho, Lucus. Tell us your tale,” an old legionary called from a corner.

Lucus smiled amiably, and swerved toward the old veteran, whispering something to Jonas and smiling conspiratorially before they parted company. Lucus was welcomed with a hearty slap on the back by the veteran, a man named Salla, and immediately absorbed in conversation.

Reaching the table alone, Jonas placed a large tankard before Conlan. “There you go, boss. Pint o’ the best.”

“I didn’t realise there was a choice.” Conlan drained the dregs of his last tankard.

“Well, technically there isn’t, but I reckon this was a fresh keg.”

Stifling a grin, Conlan took a sip. “Tastes a lot like the last one.”

“Yeah, I know. Kinda nutty.”

Conlan raised his tankard.

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