When in Rome chap 1-4!

Prologue


“What have you got there Dovolo?” Joel asked as he walked into one of the many private study rooms of the Library.

Torrance Dovolo sat at the head of the table. She was a very athletic girl of 18, powerful and defined, but not grossly muscular, with messy blond hair and piercing grey eyes. She wore the school uniform as well as a black baseball cap, which hid a massive scar on her forehead. The scar was a recent addition, the result of a snowboarding accident. Few students knew exactly what was under the cap, but it had caused an untold amount of rumors.

Rachael Harper, also known as Rae, and Ryan Liberty sat on either side of Dovolo. Rae was a slender young woman with choppy blond and red hair, and a face that belonged on magazines. She and Dovolo headed a gang of students within the school that originated from the McMannis Military Academy. It was often thought that Rae was the fun part of Torrance, the more likable of the pair.

The table was bare save an aluminum cube made of what appeared to be a mutilated Pepsi can. Torrance gently picked it up and handed it to Joel, “I think it’s an EMP, or at least an attempt, but I didn’t make it.” Torrance became rich after selling the first non-nuclear Electro Magnetic Pulse prototype to the government some years back. She still improved on the original design, but this was a sad attempt, possibly even a mockery of her work.

“Well no one in the OR is going to use a can, we would just use one of your cases.” Joel shrugged and tossed it back to Dovolo. She inhaled sharply as she jumped to catch it, wincing as it fell into her palm. But she relaxed when nothing exploded or caught on fire.

The door opened again as Arianna hobbled in, assisted by Evan. They were both members of the OverRiders, OR for short. Arianna had once been a beautiful young woman, but now she was horribly disfigured from a late night attack.  Her knee caps were crushed, as well as both hands, and her left eye had been gouged out by a large hunting knife. It was a miracle she survived the attack, but she would never be what she once was. She would walk with a cane and cover her terribly disfigured face with a large eye patch, possibly for the rest of her miserable life. A young man had been charged with the crime and sentenced to several decades in prison, but the real attacker sat at the head of the table.

Evan carried Arianna’s laptop and placed it by her chair as she sat. He was a young OR, only in his second semester in the group.

As they both settled in, Dovolo began the meeting, “I found this in my locker earlier this morning. I have taken it apart and it has the basic components of my EMP, but there are some rather dangerous mistakes in the circuitry.  I need to know who put it in there, why they did, and what this thing does. Can yall do that?” Her southern drawl was usually masked by a New York accent that all students inherited after some time in the boarding school, but sometimes her enunciation slipped.  Dovolo was usually short and to the point when it came to meeting with other groups. This time she needed their cooperation, not their opinions.

“Why couldn’t you just call us about this Dovolo?” Arianna snapped. Her leg hurt, she was tired, and she wanted to get done with her work in time to paint.

“Because I called a meeting,” Torrance said easily, dismissing the girl as she often did. It really was a maricle that the girl was still alive. Those who knew about Dovolo's involment in the attack often wondered why she hadnt gone back to finish the job. Perhaps She wanted Ari to suffer, or maybe she still had use for the girl.

Joel nodded, understanding the ritual. “Yeah Torrance, give us about an hour. Evan, see what this thing can do. Ari, get the security footage from Dovolo’s locker, send it to me and Dov. We can figure out why, later.”

“Kick Ass!” Evan yelled. He was 14, and still of the opinion that swearing made him sound older. He dove across the table and grabbed the cube. While still sprawled over the large table, his butt crack visible to all in the room, he wrenched the device open.

Three things happened rather quickly. The cube began to blink and beep continuously. Torrance, Rae, and Arianna, whom all had experience with the EMPs, snatched it from Evan's hand. Before anyone could pull the cube from the others clutches, a bright light filled the room, blinding everyone inside.

Once the light faded and he could see again, Joel looked around. Torrance, Rae, Arianna and the cube were gone.



Chapter 1


3 Years Later.

“General, we have gathered the bodies as you ordered.”

“Good. String them up, slit their throats and bleed them out. Keep the blood warm. I will bathe in it tonight.”

“Yes General, for Rome”

“For Rome, Sentry.”

General Torrance Dovolo removed her black and gold helmet as she strode into her battle tent. Two slaves appeared at her side, one carrying a golden goblet of wine and the other a pitcher of water.  She took the wine and drank it heartily before handing the goblet to the second slave. She filled it with water and humbly offered it back to her master. Torrance ignored it, walking to her war table. Her armor clanked against her golden commander’s chair  as she sat down and threw her feet on the table. Most soldiers had already removed their armor and began cleaning their weapons, but Torrance was still riding the high she got from close combat. She finally took the water from her slave, who stood by her paciently. Sipping it thoughtfully, she stared at the maps that covered the great table.

“May we disarmor you my lord?” A slave asked humbly, but kept his distance.

Torrance turned and regarded her servants. The male of the pair was in his mid twenties. He was well groomed and castrated in order to serve his masters better. The female was still very young, maybe 17.  She was a virgin, and would remain that way until her master willed otherwise. She and the male were dressed in the short white toga of the slave class. Torrance did not bother learning their names, because she refused to call them by anything other than slave. If she gave them names, then she would have to think of them as human, or at least pets, which they were neither. The pair were gifts from Caesar himself, trained since childhood to serve the elite of Rome without question of complaint.

Compared to most masters, General Dovolo was rather kind. The pair were exceptional in their work, but there were still a few kinks to work out. Torrance had several weird quirks that were quite different than anything they would experience in Rome. Blood bathing was one of them. It wasn’t that she derived any sort of great pleasure from bathing in the blood of her enemies. It was more tactical. The rumors spread of the general that was so ruthless that she bathed in the blood of her fallen foes, literally. This struck fear into the hearts of those that would oppose Rome. Mothers would urge their sons not to go to war in fear that they may end up in her bath. Warriors fled in terror when they saw the black and gold armor on the field. It was psychological warfare.

“No, not just yet. I still have things to tend to. Go collect the blood from my hunt and prepare my after battle rituals.” She said with a wave of her gloved hand.  They both nodded and bowed low as they walked away. They walked backwards, as not to give their master their back.

She leaned forward, putting her feet firmly on the ground as she studied the maps. A smug smile crossed her face as she looked over her campaign. Today’s battle had been fierce, but key in the grand scheme of the conquest. Torrance herself had been in the bloodiest part of the battle, something that not many Roman Generals practiced.  The fact that she would fight along side the lowest soldier instilled a great deal of loyalty in her troops. It also meant that she went through several horses, lost in battle after she dismounted.  In her opinion it was a small price to pay. Growing up, she never fought atop anything other than a car, and hand to hand combat was only used at close quarters when she ran out of bullets.

It had been three years since that god forsaken device threw her back over two thousand years. The ringing of a cell phone, the English word, and white teeth were now nothing more than a fond fleeting memory. She had quit praying for a way back to her time or a way to find Rae a long ago. Now she resolved to embrace her Roman ancestors. Like in her own time, she was destined to lead armies, which she did with deadly proficiency. History books would probably turn her into a man, but she did not care, they would still remember General Dovolo.

The Macedonians had the home field advantage, but the Romans superior numbers, weapons, and Torrance’s tactical skills were overwhelming. When Perseus of Macedonia threatened the allied city states of Greece, he signed his death warrant. After three unsuccessful campaigns, Torrance would be the General to remove him from power.

In the beginning they fought only town militia and farmers. It was rather boring, but short lived. Then the Macedonian king began sending his armies to meet his roman invaders. Every battle was bloody, and unimaginably glorious. Unlike her predecessors, Torrance was never beaten back, never stalled. They conquered an area, embedded the roman magistrate and barracks, and then moved farther east.

She laid a helmet at the cliffs of Thermopolis, in honor of  Greek and Roman bravery against the grandfathers of those she would slay.  She saw the Egyptian pyramids, two thousand years younger than any photo she had seen in childhood. Men and women alike found themselves begging for their lives before her blade, and crying out in ecstasy in her bed. She rode in blood stained armor all the way to the Roman Senate, where she was regarded as a hero and a true daughter of Rome.

Today’s battle was the fiercest yet, but not the worst of the war. Perseus’ army had deployed gorilla tactics, using archers masked in trees. The Roman Legion had never seen such an organized and advanced tactic, but Torrance had. She deployed it several times in her time. The problem was quickly squashed by Torrance herself and a young captain who was very balanced and confident with a bow in difficult footing.  All of those that fell by the Generals sword were brought back to the camp, where they were being bled into large silver basins. They had all fought bravely, but the world never knew anything like Dovolo’s Romans. The Macedonian General was captured and chained to a post next to a pile of his dead soldiers, waiting to join them. He would be sacrificed to Jupiter and Mars, a humble offering of thanks for such an outstanding skirmish.

The General stood, pushing the chair back with her knees. She pulled her bloody short sword from the sheath, absentmindedly playing with the blade like a child with a favored toy, twirling the edge on her fingertip, as she stared at the map.  She could travel southeast and strike the smaller villages, where rebellions were likely to fester. It would crush the Macedonians support, but they could loose valuable men and horses. It would also give allow the Macedonian King to fortify his city.

True Roman style dictated that she go straight for the city. She knew that the city population was fed primarily by the countryside and trade routes. First she would cut them off from their sustenance and starve them out. Once the population was broken, the Roman army would march through the gates, remove the royal family from power, and proclaim the area a province of Rome. The only flaw with this plan could be Pydna. The area was large enough to fit two armies consisting of tens of thousands of soldiers. It was her duty to choose the Roman way, leaving the glory of conquering the countryside to her captains in the futures.

She chuckled and stabbed her short sword into the Macedonian capital, and the table. The adrenaline from combat had not worn off, and she was bordering on giddy. She unshackled her broadsword from her side and tossed it to her female slave as she walked by with an empty silver basin. The girl caught it effortlessly and carried it to be cleaned and sharpened. That trick had taken a few attempts to learn, but the girl was extremely intelligent and quick. Torrance knew that if anyone had a chance to kill her, it would be that girl. Of course she would have to be trained in combat and have a grudge, but Torrance had seen to it that neither could happen. The girl was so broken that she would never rise against anyone, especially her master.

Torrance did not remove the rest of her armor yet. She knew that a battle did not end after the enemy was dead. There were Macedonian bodies to pillage, Roman wounded to tend, Roman dead to be given burial rites, and surviving Macedonians to torture and sacrifice to the Gods. Torrance had to admit that she was not going to enjoy it when Christianity took root. She rather enjoyed sacrifices; they were like giant parties, with blood. Her only real regret was that she had not studies the Roman Empire in high school, well other than the war with Hannibal.  She had never heard of the Macedonian Wars, and now she played a key part in the third.

The two sentries that guarded her tent opened the flaps for her as she walked out. A thick cloud cover had blanketed the battlefield and the encampment, dropping the temperature considerably. It was a blessing from the gods, as many were still exhausted and overheated from the battle. It also meant that the funeral pyres and sacrificial bond fire would light up the sky.

She walked among her men with her head held high. Swords were being polished and sharpened, meals were cooking, trees were being cut down for funeral pyres, and dead friends were being prepared for their trip into the afterlife. Her soldiers all stood and saluted her as she passed, then returned to their tasks as she moved on. They and all fought very well, and even now they worked, despite the fatigue that showed plainly on their faces. She silently decided that they would have a few days of rest before they moved on.

“Captain Remanius,” She said as she passed the young captain who assisted her in the removal of the Macedonian archers. He dropped the enemy sword into a pile of booty and fell in next to her.

“How can I serve you, General?” The captain asked.

A smile crossed Dovolo’s face. In her time, a question like that could get him slapped in the face, or taken to bed.  She chuckled and shooed the thought from her mind before saying, “We will do the sacrifice at the top of the north hill. I believe our bond fire should be visible from the villages further ahead. Let them witness the glory that is our gods and our army.”

“Of course General. Our scouts have found several surviving Macedonian fighters, as well as several healer women. What would you have of them?” Remanius asked. He knew what an honor it was to speak one on one with the General, even as a Captain.

“Bring them to the sacrifice. Let us break them, and then the men may have their way.” She said, as if it were a normal order. Rape was a violent crime, a horrendous act, but it was also a tool of war.  By raping the women, pillaging the dead and the villages, the Roman Army could completely and totally conquer a region for several generations to come. She stopped and turned to the young Captain, "You fought well today Remanius. Do not think that your efforts will go unnoticed, or unrewarded. I am sure that your father and the rest of the Senate will be pleased to hear of your bravery and sacrifices for Rome.”

The young man beamed with pride, “Thank you General.” It was a great honor to be mentioned in the Generals correspondence with Rome. To serve in the Roman Army was a duty for all man of privileged descent, but Torrance believed that Remanius had the potential to become a great leader. In the battles to come, she would take him under her wing, allowing him more influence over planning and preparation. “And what of the villages?” He asked.

She frowned a bit and surveyed the sky, “It is getting late, and the sun will set before we could reach the closest village. We do not conquer in the dark. It hides out magnificence and easily cloaks our enemies. We may fight battles in the night, but we conquer with the sun above us. Tomorrow we will claim the villages in the name of Rome. Tonight we rest. Prepare the sacrifices.”



Chapter 2

Rae watched the flames of the bond fire lick the sky above the tree line. The fires illuminated the sky with an ugly orange glow, causing the villagers to speak of bad omens and the Roman’s supernatural powers. No shit they were bad omens.  The Romans were celebrating the slaughter, thanking some obscure god, as she and those in her tiny village came to terms with their fate. To Rae, it was a sign that she needed to pack up and leave town.

The Romans would send parties to every village by morning, forcing the people into submission.  Those who did not submit to the sick bastards would be tortured and enslaved, if they weren’t simply killed. Rae knew she was beautiful and strong willed. Being raped and slaughtered was not high on her priority list.  Despite her training and fighting experience, she doubted she could take on a whole scout party of Roman soldiers. People were tougher in this time period, more willing to kill.  If Torrance were here, she would be right at home. Rae was positive that she could turn these damn Romans back to Italy with their tails between their legs.

Those who weren’t staying were taking what they could carry and heading toward the capital, where they hoped the king would protect them. Maybe that was part of the Roman’s plan, or maybe it was just lucky for them. Rae knew that all of those refugees would cripple the city. Romans wouldn’t have to lay siege, a starving and sick population would probably slaughter Perseus themselves.

Rae had to get out of the village, but she couldn’t head east, or she would be running from the Romans forever. She had to go to where they had already been. It meant that she would have to go further west, possibly into Southern Greece. She would need roman citizenship papers, but those were obtainable. She would have to pick pocket them off a woman her age, or just kill one. Identity theft was so much easier in this time period.

As everyone else watched the fire, Rae calmly walked back to the blacksmith. Until the Romans marched into their land, Rae had been working for a portly old smithy, and dating his son.  Both the blacksmith and his son had joined the Macedonian Army when they marched through to fight. There were only around five thousand, and the rumors were that the Roman Legion ranged in the forty thousands. She knew that they were dead as soon as they stepped foot outside of the village. She was infinitely better than both with a sword, but even she wouldn’t go against the Romans. It was difficult for her to watch them go, but she knew that it was her signal to leave.

Rae pushed the door open of her tiny home. It was just large enough for one person, more like a shack that had been fixed for living. There was a small pit for cooking, and a mat for sleeping. The common outhouse was about thirty yards away. She lightly regarded the shack, realizing that this would probably be the last time she stepped foot in the place she called home for the last year.

Rae kicked the cooking pots out of the way and grabbed her knife.  She dropped to her knees and dug in the dirt where the pots once were. After several minutes, she came across a wooden box buried about six inches in the earth.  She smiled as she pulled it out of the ground and sat back on her heals.  The box was cracked and rotting from the moist soil, but as she opened the lid, she was pleased to discover that its contents were unharmed.

She removed a pair of dog tags on a silver chain. With a smile, she let the cool metal fall through her fingers, grabbing the small plates of metal and reading their stamps. One of her, and one of Torrance.  Some people had friendship rings or tattoos. Torrance and Rae had dog tags.  She had given up on finding Torrance about a year ago, when she finally settled in this hamlet.

When the Pepsi Cube of Death and Misery, as she fondly named it, pulled them from the library in Banfoul, she didn’t know what was happening. She, Torrance and Arianna were pulled into the cube by their hands. They emerged in a tornado of bright lights and amazing colors.  It was like an acid trip from hell.  Arianna let go relatively quickly, as her crippled hands could not really grip the small cube and neither other girl would offer her something to hold on to. To her utter joy, Rae was the first to discover the lack of breathable air. There was wind, but she couldn't breath. The wind whipped her face, stinging her, hurting her.  She wanted to protect herself, but she couldn’t use her hands. Torrance must have seen her face, or have been going through the same pain, because she pulled Rae to her, letting her friend bury her face into her chest for protection. Torrance took the largest part of the storm while she used her body to protect Rae. Then, as if some god had heard their prayers, the winds calmed. Rae pulled her face back and looked around. There were still massive colors and brightness, but they seemed fine. She turned to Torrance, only to feel something like a giant hand rip her from her friends grasp and hurtle her out of the portal. 

It would have been nice if she was gently placed on the ground by the invisible god hand, but that would be too generous. With an audible pop, she was hurtled out of the acid trip and into bright blue skies. She immediately fell thirty feet into a large thicket of trees. Thankfully there were branches to cushion her fall. She was lucky that she walked away with only a sprained wrist.

Bandits were the first to find her, but she was able to dispatch of them rather quickly with her night stick, which was always tucked into her pocket. It was the first inclination that she was not in Kansas, and neither Clark Kent nor Toto could give her any help. That had been three years ago.

The night stick was the second object she pulled from the box. She snapped it into its full length and inspected it, checking for rust. It seemed to have held up over its stay in the ground.

She turned the box over and emptied its last content into her hand. Half of the Pepsi Cube of Death and Misery. The circuit board and power supply were broken, but she had 4 sides of the cube. It was broken and in logic would probably never work again, but Rae still had a glimmer of hope. The little rinky-dink time machine could be repaired, but again, she would have to find Torrance.

She had buried anything thing from her time, anything that could give her away as an outsider. But now, these things, well at least the night stick, may come in handy.

She grabbed what passed as her backpack front the corner and filled it with supplies; a change of warmer clothes, flint rocks, parchment and ink, food, and other things of the like. She rolled up her bed mat and tied it so that it would not come undone.  A frying pan was the last thing she took from the hut before she left, heading towards the smithy.

She was thankful that she had taken metal shop in the military academy, because she could make one fine Katana. A sheath was harder to cast, as people in the region had never seen such a sword. She had also made armor for herself while no one was around to supervise. It was light, thin, and could be worn under her clothing. It wouldn’t protect her from a full on stabbing, but it would stop a punch or kick in the gut.

With the armor in place and the katana on her back, Rae said a silent goodbye to the little family that had taken her in last winter. The father and son who were now dead, and the mother who would mourn them for the rest of her days, however short they may be if she pissed off the Romans. They had all been so kind to her, but now they were gone.

She crept around the back of the smithy, to the horse stable. The blacksmith only owned one horse, and he was gimped, but there were several others who had been recently shoed. Rae had shoed a large red Arabian yesterday, though she was sure that his owner was now dead. Well a dead man wouldn’t care if she stole his horse.

She saddled him up and packed her various belongings. The familiar weight of the night stick was back on her right leg, were it as held by a leather strap.  She knew that she probably looked like some post apocalyptic ninja, but she couldn’t share the observation with anyone as they wouldn’t understand. 

She climbed on to her new friend and kicked, causing the horse to trot from the stable. She checked the sky, noting that the orange glow had lessened. The party was dying down and the war machine was starting up again.

“Time to leave.” Rae muttered in English as she turned the horse east. She would have to go several miles east to the gorge pass, where she could cut back west and head south to Athens. It was the best chance she had of not getting caught by some Roman scout party.


Chapter 3

Torrance woke just as the sun crested the hills around the encampment, bathing the land in a crisp, steadily brightening light.  The light crept into her tent from the gaps between the cloth and the ground. It was her signal to get up, no matter how much she wanted to roll over and snuggle into the furs.

“Generals don’t snuggle,” She scolded herself in English as she groggily sat up, noting that she was not alone in bed. Two men and a woman lay sprawled in her blankets, still dozing heavily. There was always a problem with being a morning person; you were generally the first to wake up after a one night stand.

She stood and wrapped a towel around her naked waist, not bothering to cover her breasts. They had all played naked last night, why bother covering it now? And she had an impressive stomach that she secretly enjoyed showing off. With the towel in place she kicked the bed, hard, ignoring the pain in her foot. The trio woke with a start and looked up at their host.

“Why are you still here?” she growled, motioning for the door.

They all scrambled to find their clothing and make their way out, fearing that the General would loose her temper and take their heads with it. She did not bother to watch them go, instead she sauntered out of her bedroom and into her war room. The tent was a far cry from her estate in Rome, but it was still rather roomy. She plopped down into her Commander’s chair and glanced about her tent. Her armor lay waiting for her on it stand, gleaming and bright as the first time she put it on. The dents had been removed and polished out, and the leather straps had been refitted.

Her female slave walked into the tent, carrying the General’s board sword and sheath.Torrance did not move as the slave skillfully wiped the sword one last time before slipping it in the sheath and placing it with the rest of the armor. General Dovolo ran her hand though her wild brown hair and yawned. This caught the attention of her slave, who jumped and fell to her knees, apologizing profusely for her tardiness with the sword. Torrance chucked and put her hand up to stop the girl, “Stop. I believe that sword was rather dull and dirty, I appreciate the time you put into it.  When my…guests leave, have the Sentries check and kill them if they have stolen anything.  And send word for my Primus Pilus”

The slave girl bowed and backed away to attend to her duties, not sure how to take a compliment from her master. The male slave entered with his master’s breakfast, which he laid before her with a bow.

She ate, but her thoughts were elsewhere. The Black General, Daughter of Mars, Master Dux. She had gained many nicknames over the last few years. Hard to believe that it had been three years since she fell from the sky into that battlefield in Gaul. Three years since she was hurtled into this barbaric world:

The losing Roman soldiers saw her as a gift from Mars, which was logical in some twisted way. If you were loosing a fight, and a great white flash of light produced a woman who fell to the earth and started slaying your foes, you might be inclined to thank the War God. A highly influential Consul would use her to gain influence, use her “Seer’s powers” to predict where Hannibal would move his army across the Alps. He would gain so much power that he would be appointed Caesar, and in turn, she would be given control of his army. 

She often wondered about the effect she was having in the future. She was directly responsible for Hannibal’s death in the Alps, which erased a dozen influential battles. She used battle techniques that would not be seen for a thousand years, introduced archers into a more effective army. Now she led the largest roman army into Macedonia, farther than any of her predecessors. 

She had not disappeared yet, so her ancestors must still be kicking, but what about Rae? Could it be that Torrance had erased her best friend all together. Could she have killed her ancestors, or simply put them in circumstances where they wouldn’t have sex and produce more of Rae’s ancestors? She found these thoughts to be fruitless, as she would never really know the truth. But she kept a small glimmer of hope, locked away deep inside, that one day she would find her friend.

The tent opened, revealing her ten Primus Pilus, the captains, her veteran career soldiers. These ten men commanded her ten units, and, other than the Primus Prior, were her most trusted soldiers. The saluted her as they entered, each taking a seat around the war table.

She stood and walked to her armor, taking the leather under armor from the stand and pulling it over her head. She turned back to her captains and said, “Take rested parties from your units, preferably the ones who fought most bravely yesterday. Travel as quickly as possible in every direction for 10 miles. There should be several villages here that will submit supplies and royalties. They are yours, minus that of Caesar.  Any disciplinary actions from yesterday will be overseen by your seconds. Now go,” She dismissed, watching the Captains turn to leave.  This was not a meeting, this was a gathering for orders. They knew the difference after so many years in service.

Within twenty minutes, Torrance heard the rumbling of horse hooves and sandals smashing into the ground as the units left in search of the spoils of war.

Chapter 4

“I like big butts and I cannot lie. You other fellas cant deny. When a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist and a round thing in your face, you get sprung! “ Rae couldn’t remember any more of the song, but she hummed the tune anyway while she took a bite of an apple. She had ridden all night, through two villages before cutting back through the gorge. It wasn’t until she reached the gorge she began to relax.

The horse was tired, so as the sun rose in the east, she stopped at a stream away from the main road and rested for a few hours. All of that riding made her inner thighs, her back and her stomach extremely sore.  Was she really that out of shape? Dispite the circumstances, she was able to catch a few hours sleep before beginning her trek again.

The morning sun was now raising higher, its warm rays penetrating the clothing on her back. The horse, which she affectionately named Bubbles, trotted along at a quick but easy pace. She knew that the next village, Hybernia, would be just ahead, so she nudged Bubbles along a little faster, promising him the left overs of her apple once they got into town.

The smell of smoke was first to hit her senses, but that was normal in most small villages. There were always fires going, to cook or simply keep an area warm, but this smoke had some foreign oder that she wasnt familiar with.  As she rounded the bend into the hamlet, she noticed the black billows of smoke and the faint screams. The Romans were already sacking the villages.

Rae dismounted and gently pulled the horse to the side of the trail, behind a large rock and group of trees. “ I shouldn’t have taken that nap,” she said to herself as she peaked around the boulder. She put up her hood, as if it would somehow camouflage her more effectively.

She had a rather clear view of the center of the little town. It was like most townships around the area, small, filled with farmers and servicemen, all centered around one central market area. There were too few people to warrant many traders, and so the town worked with what little it had. A larger building, probably the Inn, was fully engulfed in flames, causing clouds of smoke to rise into the heavens. That would do no good, as the burning mess was next to the path she needed to take.

It looked like the Romans had pulled the whole town into the square, lining them up. She could count eight soldiers and fifty some odd towns people. Those that submitted were relatively unharmed while the Romans robbed them blind. There was a cart being filled with trinkets, meats, ale, and what little gold was in the town. The fighters were clubbed until they were unconscious and then thrown into the burning Inn. So that was the weird smell; burning people bits.

A twig snapped behind her, causing her to spin and whip the nightstick from her side. Two roman soldiers, with their swords drawn, stood before her.  They approached her in a mocking battle stance, as if they were about to wrestle with a child, and wanted to give her the illusion of a fighting chance.

“What are you doing hiding back here?” One of the soldiers said, sneering at her like she was a piece of meat.

Well you’ve got to die sometime. “Your whore of a mother, of course,” Rae shot back before she lunged.

The men outweighed her by at least 80 lbs each, but Rae was short. Her mother was short, and she knew that she would always be short and skinny, so she was well versed in the art of using her opponent’s weight against them.

The first soldier grabbed her free hand and pulled her towards him. As soon as he did she spun on her heel, turning her body so that she stood beside him, facing the same direction.The twist threw him off balance, and with a backwards swing, her nightstick took out his knees, sending him to the ground. She didn’t waste time. Her second blow was hard, to the back of his neck, at the gap between his helmet and his armor. She heard the wet crunch of his neck snapping. HIs body went limp immediatly, as if he were filled with sand instead of bones and blood. The only sign of life was the electrocuted jolts that plagued his limbs.

The move was quick, only lasting a few heart beats, but for Rae, it seemed like an eternity. Torrance had told her that in a fight, things seemed to slow down, as if the Fates were giving her time to plan her moves. Rae had never felt like that before, it had always been quick and painful. She usually let instinct take over. Of course she never really felt like she was fighting for her life, as Torrance had always been there to rescue her if things got out of hand. But now there was no Torrance, was not safety net, and these Romans really could kill her. There was a heightened sense of things in this new found state. The smell of fresh soil and burning wood, the pounding sound of her own heart beat in her ears, the feel of the cold night stick in her hand, and the slow, lethargic movements of her enemy’s face driving itself into the earth.

The second soldier changed his fighting stance, realizing that he was fighting a well versed opponent. Rae smiled, then threw the nightstick at him, which he caught. The catch was enough to distract him as she slid under him, wrapping her right leg around his left foot and kicking his right out from under him. It forced him to his knees with his legs spread. She didn’t hesitate to give him a solid uppercut to the groin, causing him to drop the weapons and cry out in pain . Shit, that would attract the Legion. She stopped playing with this one, using his body as a handle to slip out from under him.  He was beginning to regain himself as she stood, but the fight was over.  She picked up his sword and drove it under his arm, into his ribs. 

“Stop where you are!” A voice boomed, causing Rae to turn. The eight soldiers from the village were now running towards her, three on horseback. Double shit!

“Lets go Bubbles!” Rae yelled, running full force back to the horse. She slowed only briefly to pick up her nightstick, crouching as the first horsemen passed her, unable to slow his horse. She swung the baton hard, hitting the animal's knee cap, causing it to break and crumble, toppling the horse and his rider.

Rae wasn’t concerned with killing these men, only escaping, so she did not take the time to finish the fallen soldier. She bolted to Bubbles, and with a leap, she climbed onto the saddle.  The reigns were conveniently wrapped around the horn of the saddle, saving her time that she didn’t have. 

The ruckus, as well as the three soldiers that were just brought down by a small hooded figure, must have instilled some sort of courage in the villagers of Hybernia, who scattered, attacking the unprepared roman foot soldiers.

The chaos was great for Rae, because it meant she only had to deal with two soldiers on horseback.The first to engage her was older and wore a large red plume on his head, signifying that he was an officer of considerable rank. As his horse galloped towards her, he drew his broadsword, pulling the blade across his chest  in prepration for a swing. But Rae had a distinct advantage over her opponent, stirrups.

The saddle stirrup would not be used by the Romans for another two hundred years.  This meant that horsemen had to use their thighs, backs and hands to keep their balance while riding. This severely hampered their ability to move their bodies in combat. It was the reason why the Roman army did not have mounted archers.

Rae’s saddle had been fitted with stirrups, allowing her much more movement. As the officer swung at her, she kicked Bubbles hard, then let go of the reigns and threw her upper body back, one hand grasping for the katana on her back. The Roman blade barely missed her head  as she pressed against the horse’s back, bending backwards across the saddle. As the sword passed over her, she unsheathed the katana and swung it out to the side, using both her strength and the force and speed of the Roman stallion as the power to cut through the soldier's armor and into his stomach.

The second soldier halted his horse, suddenly overcome with a sense of uncertainty. His training told him to neutralize the threat, but the threat had suddenly become the entire village, not just the hooded demon in front of him.  The hooded demon that could weild a sword to cut through legion armor. Fear suddenly overtook the young noblemen, and he did what instinct dictated, he fled.