Page 64 of Firebird
“What are they doing?” Trajan’s frustration was evident.
“Either they’re cowards like you say, on the run.”
“Or?”
“Or this is part of their plan. They’re luring us into the woods.”
Trajan looked in all directions, then behind us. “You should return to the top of the hill, Legatus.”
I glanced back at the soldier in half-skin holding the standard of the golden dragon where I’d left him. From here, the entirety of the woods would know the Roman soldiers were descending upon them.
That was always our way, announcing boldly that we were setting upon our enemy. The enemy was here, and yet they weren’t. Something was wrong.
“Order the men to retreat,” I told Trajan.
“General?” His deep scowl on his half-dragon face pulled his snout into a snarl. “Retreat?”
“We’ll use deathriders and burn them out.” Even though I wasn’t sure our enemy was wholly nestled in these woods, my instincts told me it would be better to keep to the higher ground. Something was definitely off.
Trajan didn’t hesitate. He marched into the tree line, calling the orders to retreat.
Suddenly, the entire woods erupted in screams and fire. Streams offlame launched across the pine boughs, igniting the trees into a conflagration. Confusion halted my men. I could see several dozen below the line of fire, staring up and around them for the enemy while nets flew through the air and trapped them.
“Prefect!” I called to Salvo, one of my officers not far into the woods, his green wings spread wide, illuminated by flames licking around him and the men. “Retreat!”
“Back, Legatus!” Trajan shouted before he flared his giant midnight-blue wings and flew into the melee.
I couldn’t, running forward to help Salvo, who had heard my call for retreat but not before inhaling too much smoke. He coughed and stumbled to the ground, crawling from the din of cries and crackling fire.
“Hold on to me!” I reached him, hefted him up with one arm around my shoulder, his wings a dragging weight as I half carried him quickly into the grass where he could breathe the open air.
I looked back to see a purple-winged soldier still in half-skin taking flight to escape the inferno, though it blazed through the treetops and forced him back to ground. A massive wave of fire billowed across the tops, creating an impenetrable roof of flame, while I could see nets still falling from the trees. Thick black smoke billowed and clouded the interior until I could see no one at all.
“Fucking hell!”
My soldiers couldn’t fly out of the blaze without injury, even those who weren’t trapped by the nets, and most of my men were in the center of the woodlands now surrounded entirely by a wall of flame. Their half-skin scales wouldn’t protect them in that intense of a blaze.
Suddenly, dragons—dozens, then hundreds—burst through the burning branches toward the open sky, their wings smoking, leaving trails of embers and ash. The men had shifted completely into dragon form, the only way to break through the fire wall. And still, some oftheir wings and tails were on fire as they fled from certain death. But I had human soldiers trapped in there as well.
The entire woodland had been engulfed in seconds. Many of my men were already at the center, still seeking our enemy. They wouldn’t have been able to get out fast enough. As I had predicted—too late—it had been a trap. I’d given the order to seek them out, giving up the higher ground to root them out. My impatience had killed my own men.
“Legatus!” a strange voice called from behind me.
I turned to see the standard bearer up the hill, holding the staff of the golden dragon that was now in flames. A giant of a man stood behind him, a sword thrust through the back of the standard bearer, the blade sticking out of his belly. It was the gigantic stranger who’d called me and then spoke again.
“This is the future of Rome,” he spoke in accented Latin. Germanic. He held the burning standard high in his left hand, the symbol of our might and dominance, and shoved the bearer to the ground with his right, sending him rolling away.
The barbarian was naked but for a leather skirt and boots, his entire face and body coated in black war paint. His dark hair blew wildly around his shoulders, but it was his eyes that held me still—bright and feral and mocking.
Without hesitance, I charged up the hill, my bones stretching against my skin, bursting through my uniform as I broke into half-skin. The throbbing pain of horns, tail, and wings sprouting free from my body was only a split second before I launched myself at the barbarian.
He laughed when I tumbled him to the ground, then snarled when I slashed him with my claws, barely missing his face, catching his upper chest when he twisted away.
We were both on our feet, facing each other and circling.
“You aren’t ghosts, then,” I growled. “You bleed well enough.”
“Yes,” said the barbarian, his size impressive for a human. As talland wide as me in human form. “We have bled quite enough for the likes of you,General.”
