“Just do it,” Regillus ordered, his brain predicting what type of ‘surprise’ Monventus had rigged. He nodded to Daedalus.
“Open!”
The men pulled the crossbars apart and pulled levers that swung the doors in. Instantly, the fighters outside spilled into the atrium. Roman fought Mongolian with sword and shield, spear and dagger, even with gauntleted fist. Regillus spotted the brown cloaks of Ioannes’ bucerelli. The remnants of the breach defenders were bloodied but unbroken as they clawed tooth and nail against their attackers.
“Romans! Fall back!” Regillus ordered. In desperation, the defenders flung themselves to the side, running past the general’s small party. Not all were able to extricate themselves from the melee, but Regillus had to act.
“Charge!”
It was only a few short strides before the legionnaires struck the disordered mob of Mongolians and Romans. Regillus stood in the second rank, stabbing over the head of the first rank with a spare pila, the sharp tip gouging unprotected eyes and necks. The surprise assault threw back the unprepared Mongolians, many of whom fled rather than face the disciplined Roman formation.
It was then that Regillus got his first look outside the gates in several hours. The aerodome and massive coliseum were both aflame. Although Regillus could not see the breach from this vantage point, he could see the trail of dead Romans and barbarians leading off to the east between the massive palace walls and the coliseum.
A large party of Mongolian horsemen cantered through the taken gatehouse, its defenders slain or fled. They immediately made for the palace, spotting the last Romans. Indeed, even the Mongols the defenders had just scattered were quickly regrouping out of bow range.
“General, sir, it is time to go,” Daedalus stated, his arm supporting a wounded comrade recovered from amongst the slain Mongolians. The Romans retreated back inside the atrium, securing the door behind them.
Ioannes held out his hand to Regillus. The two clasped forearms.
“By the grace of God, could you not have opened the door earlier?” he complained.
“I was simply testing your fighting skills to ensure you belong in the Syrian IV,” Regillus replied. “But I am truly relieved to find you alive. We thought all had perished holding the breach.”
“It was awfully close. This is all that remains.” He motioned to the half score of men around him. Such sacrifice and bravery I have never seen before, and may not see again. Regillus thought, as he ordered his men to evacuate.
“Monventus, could you stall our attackers?”
“My pleasure.” He walked over to the bundle of cables painstakingly gathered by the wall. Regillus knew that Monventus and his assistants had spent many hours planning and preparing for this very moment.
“Are you sure we cannot open this door to get the full effect?” he asked.
Regillus shook his head as he sheathed his sword.
Sighing slightly, Monventus twisted one handle, then the second. For a moment, there was nothing, then a rumbling wave of thunder.
“Those easterners won’t be using that gatehouse again anytime soon!” Ioannes exclaimed as they left the room, racing to catch up to the rest of their party. Their feet pounded on the marble floors, their steps echoing as they ran through the columned halls. They took a sharp turn into a side passage, only to come face to face with an equally surprised group of barbarians.
Regillus cursed, slamming his scutum into the nearest Mongolian, then floundered on the wet floor. They must have come in the harbor gate after all. His opponent tried to strike back, but was penned in by his comrades in the hallway. Recovering his balance, Regllius drew his spatha and stabbed in short, economical motions. He drove down the hallway, Monventus and Ioannes right behind him.
“Rome and the Fourth!” he screamed, the Syrian IV battle cry coming naturally to his lips now. The marble floor was coated in blood, and his boots struggled to find traction. Another Mongolian went down, his flailing arms entangling Regillus’ legs. Overbalanced, Regillus fell forward, slamming into their attackers. Spears and daggers stabbed out, reaching around the metal rim of his shield to strike at his vulnerable arms and shoulders.
Monventus and Ioannes quickly dispatched the wounded assailant, then came to Regillus’ rescue. By the time they had pushed back the Mongolians, Regillus was bleeding from numerous small cuts and gashes. They pulled him to his feet, and he promptly collapsed again without their support.
“Those barbarian whores,” Regillus cursed loudly, as he stopped to examine a nasty wound in his thigh. Monventus gave it a cursory examination while Ioannes reloaded his repeater, the quarrels making a snick-clip sound as they locked into place.
“How does it look?” the councilman asked.
“The blade went through the meat of the muscle. He will not be able to put much pressure on it. We will have to help the general up the stairs.” Quickly, Monventus ducked around the injured man. Regillus put his arm over his shoulder and they began to move, slowly but steadily, up the winding staircase. Ioannes barricaded the door behind them.
“Couldn’t we have taken the gods damned lift?” Monventus grumbled as they reached the fifth story.
“No, we hadn’t the manpower to operate the boilers and run the machine safely. Those men have all been evacuated by now,” Regillus grunted out between painful steps. Each one lanced fire up his leg, and he could feel the blood pooling in his boot.
Monventus paused for a moment, leaning over and allowing Regillus to rest. Ioannes ripped off part of his tunic, tying it around the wound in an effort to staunch the bleeding.
“Sorry, General, should have done this earlier.”
“Not to worry. How much longer do you think we have until they leave without us?” Regillus grimaced. Monventus looked up at the ceiling, the marble staircase twirling its way upwards.
“There are only two or three more floors before we reach the roof. They should remain until they are certain we are not coming. Probably until they see Mongols.” He placed his head against the wall. Regillus opened his mouth to ask what he was doing, before the engineer silently held up a hand in response.
A moment went by, then Monventus spoke.
“I can feel the hum of the engines still running, so they are still there.”
Ioannes sighed.
“Thank God for small mercies.” He crossed himself in prayer. There was a moment’s uncomfortable pause as Monventus eyed the pious Christian. A sudden sound from far below reached their ears. A loud crash followed by the tell-tale clatter of boots on stone.
“Mongols.” They all looked at each other. Monventus grabbed Regillus, hauling him up. Ioannes followed close behind, helping carry the general. It was a race against time. One door passed, then two. All along, the footsteps grew closer. They could hear the guttural tones of the Mongol soldiers behind them now. No doubt they had discovered their ambushed comrades and were now following the trail of blood left by Regillus.
“Stop! Here!” Regillus called out, his voice cracking with pain. The men paused, panting. To their left, a doorway stood with the word Tectum outlined by a black border. Monventus threw open the door. Bright sunlight greeted the men. The large open top of the battlements spread around them. The tower staircase stood in one corner of the battlements, continuing up into the air behind them. At the opposite corner of the tower rested a magnificent Imperial Airship, the name Scioparto emblazoned on the side. A cordon of men stood around it, airmen in light leather armor and armed with folding stock repeating crossbows. They instantly braced at the sight of the three newcomers, several kneeling down to steady their aim.