"Ready javelins!!"
They heard Alexios bark out, and immediately, Rainer moved, crawling out of the wagon.
He pushed himself up and surveyed the area.
Some soldiers had been hit badly by the initial exchange, their blood pooling on the sand.
Beyond, outside the formation ran a small number of riderless horses, pelted with javelins, and scattered sporadically on the ground lay dead, skewered rebels.
However, it wasn't over, the rebels had begun circling them, seeking out the least defended region of their formation to pelt with javelins.
"Send!!"
Javelins flew, clashed in the air, and were exchanged. Rainer crouched behind a wagon and Javelins whizzed past as the cries and groans of those hit reverberated.
*Suuk!* *Suuk!* "Garh!" *Clang!*
Rainer raised his head with a frustrated groan.
At this point, it was beginning to get embarrassing. The purported Son of Mars diving for cover under a wagon? He could already feel some weird gazes on him.
Rainer's head swiveled back and forth, eyes scanning the area for anything he could help with, but he found nothing special.
However, his eyes soon rested on a drum, staring at it for a while as the workings of an idea swirled within his pupils.
–––
Under fire with his oval shield raised toward the direction the missiles rained from, Chief clerk Agricola walked toward the Prefect who sat on his horse between two equestrian officers.
The officers were mounted, guarding him on both sides with broad, porcupined, javelin-embedded shields.
"Praefect Kyriakos! If I may!" Agricola called out.
Alexios who surveyed the battlefield with an intense gaze, glanced down at him and nodded.
"These are Thracian rebel skirmishers! They are skilled horsemen! Their ambush appears properly planned, and I fear that we may run out of javelins before they do!"
Agricola loudly informed, shifting his shield to a different direction where a new missile volley rained from.
"We are quickly losing men, Praefect! I suggest we hold fast and form testudo while we wait for reinforcements! We aren't too far away from the garrison fort!"
Alexios' eyes were trained on the revolving rebels as a calculating, yet fiery intensity rolled within them.
"It is not for us to sit and absorb missiles, Agricola."
Alexios disgruntledly retorted.
"That is a legion's role."
He proudly straightened on his steed and glanced at his adjutant, eyes glinting like daggers.
"Auxilliaries make the enemy bleed."
Alexios taught and Agricola bowed slightly in compliance.
Seeing this, Alexios' eyes softened and he turned his gaze away, toward the direction of the garrison fort.
"There's no telling when reinforcements will arrive—neither should we expect them. As for our javelins running out? If these sand roaches haven't skittered away due to attrition by then... I'll consider your suggestion."
Hearing this, Agricola grimly nodded and turned on his heels, heading back to a formation.
*du!*
An unfamiliar drum beat struck close by, and at once they both recognized that it wasn't a signal—
Agricola stopped, and Alexios turned toward the source.
*du-du-du-du-du-du-DUDU!*
It soon quickened in pace, their intensity matching and possessing the auxiliaries' racing hearts.
*DU-duDU-duDU-duDU-duDU-duDU-duDUDU!*
The beats came louder, faster now; their demanding rhythm coming like an ancient call to war, making men's blood boil and turning eyes wild with frenzy.
Suddenly, the auxiliaries felt invincible, indestructible even, like they could take on the world three times over!
Just when it took them all their discipline to prevent them from senselessly charging after the raiders, the beat came to an abrupt stop.
*DU!*
At once, the wild, untamed energy rolling within each and every one of them, coalescing and threatening to spill out in an unrestrained violence, collapsed—like a cool fog rolling down the pre-dawn mountainside.
The battlefield soon quietened like a haunted cemetery behind a mystic cathedral, and suddenly, an unnatural calm washed over everyone.
Eyes became focused and heartbeats settled, the soldiers' grip on their arms steadied, and the cohort which now stood against the next barrage of missiles, was an eerily synchronized machine.
"Raise shields!!"
Alexios barked and the formation moved as one.
*Suuk!* *Pok!* *Prak!*
This time, there were little to no casualties, and the soldiers' countenance held a silent confidence.
Alexios looked down at Rainer, who stood meditatively still with his eyes closed. A Germanic war drum was hung across his neck and his hands, each gripping a stick lay placid on the drum.
Suddenly, as if feeling his stare, Rainer opened his eyes and glanced directly at him.
Alexios nodded his appreciation, and Rainer smirked.
An odd light passed through Alexios' eyes, and he seemed to come to a silent understanding.
'He must truly be Mars' son.'
He mused, looking away toward an approaching dust cloud in the distance.
'I am glad that I did not end up angering the Roman god of war by killing his son. Princeps Centurio Vellocatus has my eternal gratitude.'
He noted with an imperceptible sigh of relief.
Soon, thirty horsemen garbed in mail over green tunics charged out of the dust cloud on the horizon. The cohort's green standard flapping above their heads.
"Lord Prefect! That's Decurio Sabazois' turma!"
The officer beside him informed with a delighted expression.
"It seems they're done with the Governor's task!"
At that, a knowing light flashed across Alexios' eyes. Immediately, his shoulders eased of all his tension.
"Good. Now there will be no survivors amongst the rebels."
The Prefect intoned with the confidence of someone who knew a secret.
The officers were shocked.
The rebels still had at least a hundred men, but they would still give Sabazois' turma a hard time regardless of how experienced and skilled their thirty horsemen were.
Unless the Prefect had a brilliant plan to link up an attack with the Sabazios' men to completely crush the rebels, they couldn't see how the rebels wouldn't escape.
Without clearing up their doubts the Prefect solemnly surveyed the terrain, and then his eyes stopped on the hill the rebels had come from.
He soon squinted and looked to the side.
"Agricola!"
"Praefect!"
Agricola answered from within the century.
"Get the third century ready to skirmish! Hinder the rebels' movement and limit their movement to the hillside!"
Agricola looked towards Sabazios approaching men, and nodded.
"Yes, Praefect Kyriakos!"
Agricola spoke with the centurion, and orders were barked out.
Immediately, the century quickly advanced out of the block in a straight line. This hindered the rebels who were about to go around them, and they stopped.
The rebels hesitated, becoming cautious, suspicious of the strategy being employed.
They were aware of the thirty horsemen coming from the west, and now with a wing of the infantry extending east, they could no longer go in circles, and standing still would make them sitting ducks for javelins.
Their chieftain, a man with a worn fox pelt around his neck, quickly examined the situation and ordered a retreat, feeling they had done enough damage.
At once, they fled back toward the hill.
But just as they began their climb, they felt the ground tremble. When they looked up they became horrified at what they saw.
It was a horde of riders—brandishing terrifying polearms with uniquely shaped, lethal blades.
They came over and down upon them, shrieking like banshees.
It was a shock and awe counter-ambush that left the rebels shaken and slow to react.
Found vulnerable, they were ruthlessly plowed into.
Rainer watched this and was stunned.
Not because of the ferocity in their attack, or how they rolled through the rebels like a scythe through grass—excitedly taking off heads and impaling men off their horses like free game being hunted.
No—Not even that.
It was because they were all women.