Blood Forest

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An army was dying. An empire was being brought to its knees.

The soldier was at the heart of it, always had been, and though he was ignorant of the scale of the tragedy in which he found himself, he had seen enough of his comrades fall to come to the inevitable conclusion.

‘We’re fucked.’ He smiled at the man beside him.

It was a hollow smile. The Empire meant nothing to him. Enlightenment? Romanization? Fancy words for corpulent politicians. His world was the section, the mates on his shoulders. His world was the few feet to his front, seen over his shield’s lip.

‘Here they come!’ A centurion called the warning as a wave of men burst from the concealment of the trees.

They were big men, a head taller than the Romans, and their charge from the raised banks only made them look more like giants. The soldier noticed that these were fresh troops, unbloodied, their eyes still sparkling with life, not yet acknowledging the truth that they could die on this track.

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