Spell of the Beast: Book 1: Shape Shifters of Rome by M.A. Mott

Author:M.A. Mott [Mott, M.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harbinger LLC
Published: 2018-07-13T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

HIS PARTIAL TRANSITION disheveled Marcus’ clothing. His cuirass had snapped off somewhere, fallen away in the dark, but his tunic was least still attached to him. He strode toward camp, barefoot, dirty, scratched, some blood seeping from light cuts and gouges. He had to think fast. He knew the soldiers in the room with them might have seen something...but it could possibly be explained away. How could he account, however, for Maximus’ absence? The commander’s soldiers would not heed a ranting, heavy-handed upstart taking over their company, even if it that upstart had orders from the Consul. Yet, this was the moment. He had to seize control and had to be quick about it. He had a plan, but it would take finesse.

He limped toward the gate. In the distance, he heard the hounds he’d set on Maximus baying in pursuit. Good. It would provide impetus to the party he was about to call forth. Ahead, he saw two sentries posted at the gate. Two more, bowmen, peered over the wall.

“Pax consul!” he shouted. “Pax Lucullus!”

“Who calls Pax for Lucullus?” returned the guard.

Marcus limped into the circle of lamplight before the battered gate. He clutched his side where it was slightly damp and red with his blood from the gash Maximus had given him during the fight. He was healing quickly with the vigor of his kind, but...he decided playing up the drama wouldn’t hurt.

He leaned against the out edge of the archway for support, leaning heavily. “I am the Quaestor Marcus Lupinus,” he said, grunting a little. “Your commander is in pursuit of the creature who attacked us. We must...ugh... mount a party to aid him.” He staggered down to one knee.

One of the guards rushed forward to steady him. The other turned and shouted alarm. Soon, a squad of men surrounded him, weapons drawn, warily looking behind Marcus, peering into the dark.

They lifted him into a chair and carried him into the courtyard. Torches blazed brightly inside, casting fantastic shadows of the men as they ran about, preparing their units for battle. Good. Someone, probably that sergeant—what was his name? Otho? —had set things in motion. He grunted as the soldiers sat him down, then leaned over, spat a little blood from where Maximus had pasted him good, then sat back up, coughing a little. He glanced over to Otho.

“Report,” he grunted.

He saw Otho hesitate slightly, measuring the situation. A moment more and Maximus might have demanded he be flogged. Then the sergeant stood erect and saluted.

“Greetings Quaestor. Just getting our bearings here,” he said. “I’ve a patrol preparing to give pursuit. Our hounds seem to have been drawn out already, so it will make trailing difficult.”

Marcus nodded. “Yes. They pursue the beast, along with Maximus.” He eyed the sergeant coolly as he told the lie. “He seems like a man possessed. I could hardly keep up with him. But then, the fight...” he coughed again for effect... “brought me down. When I regained my senses, they were far afield.

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