Days went by, my centuria integrated well with the rest of the legion, and even better with their cohort. The second rank of the centuria, was issued hasta alongside their spatha. It was a good combination, my plan was, when we were eventually attacked by the phalanx of P’Tah soldiers my centuria would shift ranks, and defend against the cavalry charge.

The sun was nearing noon, when my strategy was tested, scouts had reported to General Bracca. Upon hearing the news he halted the Legion, and announced, “Our scouts have spotted a force of enemy soldiers, form up, we shall meet them here and spoil their plans for an ambush!”

When a legion forms up, it five thousand two hundred men form up into ten cohorts of five hundred men lead by a tribune, the first cohort was the farthest to the right, the fifth farthest to the left, the sixth cohort forms up behind the first, and the tenth behind the fifth. Behind the cohorts were the archers, and reserves, the sick, lame, and others that were not meant to fight until there was no other choice. Each cohort consisted of one hundred men or one centuria. Our Legions second cohort actually numbered six hundred men thanks to my centuria being placed among them.

From that I was a mix of emotions, I was excited, the thought of battle had woke up something almost primal in the back of my mind, the hair on my arms, and on the back of my neck rose and I had this feeling in my stomach that made me want to eat raw meat. There was also anxiety I didn’t want to get killed, and I didn’t want any of my men to die neither. Truth be told I was scared, this was the biggest battle I have been in since the First Legions ambush, this was more organized though, and I had time to actually think about what was about to happen. The feeling of fear, and sheer aggression grew to explosive proportions as the force of P’Tah soldiers came into view.

I felt my mouth start to froth as my centuria formed up behind me, we were an auxiliary of the second cohort, left of the of the first, and on the front of the legion. I HAD TO DO SOMETHING, rampant energy began welling up in my guts, I began shaking and finally it started to leak out. I shouted to the point my vocal cords felt like they were ripping, and I pounded on my shield with a drawn khopesh. My centuria! Followed suit, the cohort we belonged to followed shortly. The enemy Khart warriors were first to charge, charging against the fifth cohort.

The aegean’s, those P’Tah grown mercenaries, forming the main body of the force charged us, the second, third, and fourth cohorts under a cloud of arrows. “Testudo formation!” I shouted, and in unison my centuria’s shields raised above our heads, except for the first ranks which were used to defend our front. I was gripping my khopesh so tight that my palm was bleeding, the tribune looked at General Bracca for a signal, and when the signal was given, I shouted wildly “CHARGE!” and sprinted toward the enemy. In spite of all of our fervor, our training, and our discipline held us in formation as we in one large mass crashed like a wave into the aegeans, under the tink, tink, tink, rattle, rattle, rattle of arrows raining down on my centurias shields.

I was screaming like a wild man, my eyes wide after sword met shield. I hooked the crook of my khopesh onto my nearest enemy’s shield and ripped it from his arm, and thrust immediately into his face without mercy, or empathy. Leif had my left, and his spear found purchase into another nearby enemy soldier. We were the tip of the spear so to speak, piercing through the first rank of enemy soldiers, creating a soft spot in their phalanx. After the first thrust, or two every thing became a red haze, I remember screaming incoherently, and slashing wildly at enemy soldiers. But somewhere in my haze I must have been giving orders because as my centuria divided the phalanx, reforming, and forcing the Aegean phalanx parts into their neighboring phalanx’s. The first rank would kill, or knock down enemy soldiers; the second, and third ranks would give subsequent deathblows; and the fourth, and fifth ranks replaced any of my men who might of fallen.

I heard a horn, not a shepherd’s horn like the one I used, and not the cornu type horn we used. It was the brass horn used by the P’Tah leaders. The Aegean’s began to reform, and General Bracca, held us back. I soon saw why through a clearing red haze. The P’Tah cavalry had began their flanking charge, and somehow my centuria was going to be the first to meet the charge. “SECOND RANK! FORWARD!” I shouted hoarsely, as a the foam erupting from my mouth was tinged a very light pink. Every man with a spear stepped forward, “Hold!” I commanded, through the haze of unintelligible screaming, I grabbed a spear dropped by a fallen comrade, the P’Tah cavalry rumbled closer I could feel the footsteps of the horses shake the ground under me. At the last possible second I shouted “LOWER SPEARS!” The second rank as a unit lowered their spears and stepped on the butts. There was a tremendous shock when a horse, crashed into my spear, one that threw me to the ground with such force that I bounced. Horses screamed, men wailed, and I only hd one direction I could go forward.

There was more screaming, cries of victory, agonizing wails, shouts of every incarnation around me, from both man and beast. I remember cutting the leg of a horse, cutting the rider down with my khopesh, it sticking into my enemies flesh, and having to press my foot on his chest to remove it. I felt something his me in my side below my lorica, I thrusted, sliced, and cut for what seemed like hours, the rational part of my mind told me that it was only a few minutes but it felt so much longer. Leif always seemed to be on my left, and for a few moments I felt that it was just Leif, the enemy, and myself on the battlefield.

Then I heard the sound of the cornu horns of the legion, there was nothing else to fight. What ever was left of the P’Tah forces had retreated, I could hear some last vestiges of the battle being fought, but for me there was no one to fight. I was starting to feel whatever unfretted energy that was within me go away, when General Bracca approached me, place a hand on my shoulder, and said “We won.”

I was still coming down, and I repeated him breathlessly “We won, we won, we won.” I was still holding my khopesh with a beyond tight grip but now I was shaking “we won.”

The General patted my back and said “Calm down, put your sword away, and breath in and out slowly. We won, and we won thanks to your warnings.” I reached my khopesh behind my back trying to sheath it. It would not find the sheath! I cursed in frustration I could not sheath my sword. Finally I slipped it into my belt, and that’s when I noticed a seeping wound, reaching into it I felt something metal, and pulled out three inches of spearhead, or maybe dagger.

I was finally breathing in a more normal fashion, and I could feel just how much pain I was in. My side was aching, my hand where it had started bleeding was stinging, I had been punched in the nose making my face feel like it was going to explode, and to top it all off stopping the cavalry charge made my entire body sore. All that became muted, when I started looking to my men. Five were dead, two more were dying, and there were a handful whose lives were miserable, bleeding, and seeping wounds. Every other centuria had similar casualties, and the carnage for the other side was even worse. The desert we fought on was now sloppy, covered in blood. Puddles formed here, and there was a great stench. But the most horrifying was the sound, my men, the people I had ate with not even six hours before were in pain, I was just getting to know some of them. The youngest man in my centuria had lost his shield hand at the wrist. The oldest lost his leg at the thigh, he wouldn’t last more than a few minutes. There was was nothing I could do for any of them. I talked as much as I could to them, but eventually I began vomiting, until I dry heaved not a very good thing in the desert, and I wept for what seemed like hours.