The Burning Isle by Will Panzo

Author:Will Panzo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2016-10-17T11:13:24+00:00

EVERY ENEMY IS A RESOURCE

On the road to Rocino Novi, they called him Drussus. A boy of thirteen, he had paid for the trip with everything of value he could muster. One Fathalan silver embossed with a wolf’s head, six bare coppers, a chipped amethyst, a leather belt with a brass buckle, two pouches of Gaspian tobacco. No large sum, but it had taken the better part of a year to save it. He was happy to pay, though; happier still to leave everything behind.

He rode in a flatbed wagon, his rucksack tucked under him for cushion. Three other passengers journeyed with him, an old man with a crooked back and two women veiled and dressed in black as befit mourners. The women rode up front with the driver, but the old man settled in the flatbed with Drussus, and side by side, they sat facing backward and watched the road as it stretched behind them.

Drussus pictured the road as a river carrying him downstream. He liked the feel of moving, especially the feel of moving toward something. Before this, he had traveled frequently but never with a destination. He had moved only for the sake of moving, his journeys trips of opportunity. He was getting older now, though. He needed a plan.

He knew no one in Rocino Novi. Only the legion waited for him there. At thirteen, he was old enough to sign on as an auxiliary troop and learn to be a scout or runner or slingman. He had no love for the life of a soldier, no love for the legion in particular, but serving the Republic meant three rations of food a day, a roof over his head, clothes enough to keep him warm.

It meant also a sword and the training to use it.

The dreams drove him to Rocino Novi, more than anything. They had troubled him as a boy, gave him fitful rests and kept him awake with fear of what waited in the dark. All boys had nightmares, but Drussus had only one nightmare, had it most every night.

He was alone in the dream, running through a damp, dark jungle while legionnaires in full battle gear gave chase. The soldiers had hounds with them, and the sound of dogs barking made his heart race. Behind his pursuers, a wall of fire devoured the jungle. The heat from its flames burned him like fever.

He ran with heavy legs, his feet sinking into warm mud. The legionnaires gained ground with every step until, finally, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find a terrible beast reaching for him. Red-limbed and fanged and covered with steel.

In all the years he had had the dream, Drussus never once made it out of the jungle. The beast caught him every time.

As he grew older, the dream lessened in frequency until even his memories of the dream faded. Then last summer, a heat wave swept the city, and most nights saw Drussus sleeping on rooftops for cool comfort, sweating in the dark.

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