take what the barbarians could give, thereby drawing them further into the legion’s trap.
Severus rode his horse into the mass of fighting men, swinging his sword to the right and left, knowing enough of German warfare to realize he only had a few minutes before the ambushers headed for the forest. If they broke free of the legionnaires, they would disappear again, only to attack later. Even now Severus saw that their leader had realized the trap and was shouting to his men.
“Take the giant!” Severus roared, driving harder. He ducked as a framea just missed his head. Slashing his sword into another attacker, he swore. “The giant! Take him! The giant !”
Atretes let out a piercing whistle, once again signaling his men to fall back. Rud fell with a dart in his back, Holt shouted madly to the others. A few broke through the lines, but Atretes was caught. He drove the point of his spear into one soldier and brought the back of it up beneath the chin of another who attacked him from behind. Before he could pull the spear free, another soldier rammed him in the back. Letting his momentum take him, keeping his hold on the framea, Atretes rolled and came to his feet, freeing the weapon and bringing the razor sharp spear point into the abdomen of an attacker.
He saw a flash to his right and shifted, feeling the sting of a sword wound along his right shoulder. A mounted commander was driving his horse toward him, shouting. A half-dozen soldiers closed in on Atretes, surrounding him.
Letting out a feral war cry, Atretes drove into the youngest soldier coming at him, putting a hard dent into the side of his helmet, then slicing through his groin. When another lunged at him, he ducked sharply and turned, bringing his heel up into the soldier’s face. The Roman commander rode right into him, but Atretes was able to roll and come swiftly to his feet, throwing his hands up and letting out a shrill, warbling scream that made the commander’s stallion rear. Dodging its hooves, Atretes retrieved his framea.
The Romans drew back as soon as the Chatti’s spear was in his hands again. Fighting for control of his horse, the commander bellowed orders at his troops, his face dark red with fury.
Atretes saw no way to escape and resolved to take as many of the foul soldiers with him as he could. Baring his teeth, he swung around, waiting for the attack. When a soldier stepped forward into the circle, he faced him, holding the spear in two hands. The soldier shifted his sword and moved around to the right while the others called encouragement. The Roman attacked first. Parrying the blow easily, Atretes spit in the man’s face before shoving him away. Enraged, the soldier lunged. Expecting this, Atretes dodged and brought the end of his framea around and into the side of the unwise legionnaire’s head with a hard thud. As the soldier dropped, Atretes made a swift slice through the fallen man’s jugular. The legionnaire twitched violently, but briefly, as he died.
Another soldier came at him, sword swinging. Atretes ducked to one side and circled, expecting a sword thrust to his back from someone in the tightening group of men. It didn’t come. It seemed these Romans wanted their last kill to be a contest.
The second soldier was quickly disabled with a deep gash across his thigh. Atretes would have killed him had not another entered the circle quickly and blocked the thrust of the framea. The wounded man was dragged back, and Atretes faced a third opponent, at whom he made swift, sharp jabs, driving him back. The circle broke and then closed quickly again. The Roman facing Atretes brought his shield down hard, clanging it against the long metal head of the spear, at the same time swinging his sword. Atretes ducked sharply and spun around, catching the man in the back of the head with the framea’s long handle. The soldier fell, face in the dust, and didn’t move.
The men were furious and they shouted in fury, encouraging two
Severus rode his horse into the mass of fighting men, swinging his sword to the right and left, knowing enough of German warfare to realize he only had a few minutes before the ambushers headed for the forest. If they broke free of the legionnaires, they would disappear again, only to attack later. Even now Severus saw that their leader had realized the trap and was shouting to his men.
“Take the giant!” Severus roared, driving harder. He ducked as a framea just missed his head. Slashing his sword into another attacker, he swore. “The giant! Take him! The giant !”
Atretes let out a piercing whistle, once again signaling his men to fall back. Rud fell with a dart in his back, Holt shouted madly to the others. A few broke through the lines, but Atretes was caught. He drove the point of his spear into one soldier and brought the back of it up beneath the chin of another who attacked him from behind. Before he could pull the spear free, another soldier rammed him in the back. Letting his momentum take him, keeping his hold on the framea, Atretes rolled and came to his feet, freeing the weapon and bringing the razor sharp spear point into the abdomen of an attacker.
He saw a flash to his right and shifted, feeling the sting of a sword wound along his right shoulder. A mounted commander was driving his horse toward him, shouting. A half-dozen soldiers closed in on Atretes, surrounding him.
Letting out a feral war cry, Atretes drove into the youngest soldier coming at him, putting a hard dent into the side of his helmet, then slicing through his groin. When another lunged at him, he ducked sharply and turned, bringing his heel up into the soldier’s face. The Roman commander rode right into him, but Atretes was able to roll and come swiftly to his feet, throwing his hands up and letting out a shrill, warbling scream that made the commander’s stallion rear. Dodging its hooves, Atretes retrieved his framea.
The Romans drew back as soon as the Chatti’s spear was in his hands again. Fighting for control of his horse, the commander bellowed orders at his troops, his face dark red with fury.
Atretes saw no way to escape and resolved to take as many of the foul soldiers with him as he could. Baring his teeth, he swung around, waiting for the attack. When a soldier stepped forward into the circle, he faced him, holding the spear in two hands. The soldier shifted his sword and moved around to the right while the others called encouragement. The Roman attacked first. Parrying the blow easily, Atretes spit in the man’s face before shoving him away. Enraged, the soldier lunged. Expecting this, Atretes dodged and brought the end of his framea around and into the side of the unwise legionnaire’s head with a hard thud. As the soldier dropped, Atretes made a swift slice through the fallen man’s jugular. The legionnaire twitched violently, but briefly, as he died.
Another soldier came at him, sword swinging. Atretes ducked to one side and circled, expecting a sword thrust to his back from someone in the tightening group of men. It didn’t come. It seemed these Romans wanted their last kill to be a contest.
The second soldier was quickly disabled with a deep gash across his thigh. Atretes would have killed him had not another entered the circle quickly and blocked the thrust of the framea. The wounded man was dragged back, and Atretes faced a third opponent, at whom he made swift, sharp jabs, driving him back. The circle broke and then closed quickly again. The Roman facing Atretes brought his shield down hard, clanging it against the long metal head of the spear, at the same time swinging his sword. Atretes ducked sharply and spun around, catching the man in the back of the head with the framea’s long handle. The soldier fell, face in the dust, and didn’t move.
The men were furious and they shouted in fury, encouraging two
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