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This Fire Burns - Chapter 11
🕑 Added 2025-09-20 02:40:39 +0000 UTC[January 8th, 2006]
[Kayla Brooks]
The Field of Mars was a beautiful mess. The ground was pitted with old explosion craters and scarred with trenches from previous games. At the north end of the field stood their target: A stone fortress the engineers had slapped together, complete with an iron portcullis, guard towers, scorpion ballistae, and water cannons.
No doubt the last one was prepared for the new guy.
Kayla stood in line with the rest of the Fourth Cohort, their shoulders collectively slumped under the weight of inevitable defeat. Adjacent to them was the Third Cohort’s equally depressed line. The lot of them looked like they were attending a funeral. Just that they were the ones about to be buried.
The Praetors, in their infinite wisdom, had decided that the First and Second cohorts would get to play defense today. Which meant the Third, Fourth, and the pitiful Fifth were being served up for slaughter.
Personally, she found the whole situation hilarious. Her mother, Discordia, would have wept with joy. The established order was being shaken up by an agent of unadulterated chaos, and she had a front row seat.
Speaking of the devil...
She looked over to where the Fifth Cohort were standing. For whatever reason, they’d decided that getting into formations was for losers and were just kind of milling about off to the side. At their head was the fire-boy himself, who was hovering a few inches off the ground with a constant stream of flames from his feet. At his side, that usually chipper redhead Gwen carried a silver tray with the solemnity of a priestess.
“My valiant comrades!” Serif’s voice carried across the field. “Today, we claim glory! But first, a reminder of what we fight for! Gwen!”
Right on cue, Gwen lifted the lid.
The wind chose that exact moment to change, and the rich smell of melted chocolate rolled right into the Third and Fourth’s miserable lines.
“Is something wrong with that guy?” someone from the Third muttered.
“What a clown.”
“Should’ve brought a jester’s cap too.”
One guy actually took a step out of formation before catching himself and snapping back into line.
Gwen carried the tray down the Fifth’s line, letting every single legionnaire get a long sniff, but not a single touch. Their eyes were locked onto those cookies with a primal focus. The Kool-Aid kid made a desperate lunge for one, only for Gwen to smack his hand away with the tray’s lid.
“If we lose,” Serif declared, his voice booming once more, “we don’t deserve to enjoy this ever again!”
The Fifth answered with a chorus of oaths, and one heartfelt “Nooo!”
Gods, this kid is a natural. To sow this much chaos within two weeks of being in camp...
Just then, Jason and Leila broke from the Fifth and approached the centurions of the Third and Fourth cohorts.
Jupiter Junior, looking every bit the proper Roman, formally announced their intention. “We, the Fifth Cohort, volunteer to lead the initial assault on the fortress.”
A wave of relief washed over the faces of the other centurions. Kayla had to bite her own cheek to keep from laughing as Hank, her cohort’s centurion, stepped forward so quickly he nearly tripped over his feet.
“An admirable display of Roman courage, Centurion Grace! The Fourth Cohort gladly yields the vanguard position to your legionnaires. We will, of course, provide support from the rear.”
It almost sounded like something other than an excuse for letting the Fifth take the fall.
The two centurions from the Third exchanged a look. One of them, a girl named Sabrina, cleared her throat. “A sound strategic decision, Centurion Grace. The Third will advance to secure your flank once you’ve engaged the—"
“MY SOLDIERS PUSH FORWARD! MY SOLDIERS SCREAM OUT! MY SOLDIERS RAGE!”
In response to Serif’s words, the Fifth Cohort let out a soul-shattering bellow.
Kayla felt a shiver run down her spine. Gods help me. I kind of want to join.
------------------------------
At its heart, this was just a glorified game of capture the flag. One with more potential for bodily harm, but still capture the flag.
I looked over at the fortress of stone. Somewhere in there, the two “greatest” cohorts were guarding their banners. All we had to do was kick the door down, grab them, and get out.
Easy enough.
High above us, the Praetors circled on the back of a giant eagle, with half a dozen more flying in formation behind them. Always good to have airborne medics ready when demigods will be throwing fire and lightning at each other.
Just another beautiful day in Camp Jupiter.
Jason and Leila jogged back from their meeting with the other centurions.
“It’s done,” Jason reported, stopping beside me. “They agreed to let the Fifth lead the charge.”
I laughed. “Those suckers probably think we’re the perfect sacrificial lambs. Too bad for them, only the cohort that captures the banners gets all the glory.”
Jason gestured toward the now-empty silver tray in Gwen’s hands. “How could you? You didn’t save any for me?”
Despite the nature of his words, I could see a smile threatening to break through.
I raised my hands in mock-surrender. “Hey, it’s pre-battle fuel. Now that everyone’s had a taste of victory, we’re just that much more motivated to win.”
“Fine,” he conceded, the smile finally winning. “But I still can't believe you had me use my powers to waft the scent of your cookies over to where the other cohorts were lined up.”
“Woah, don’t pin that on me. It was your idea to hit the First and Second with it for ‘psychological damage.’ I just happened to extend the courtesy to the Third and Fourth. Equality and all that.”
Leila pinched the bridge of her nose like she was regretting every life decision that led her here. “If this actually works, I’ll make sure you get the Mural Crown.”
“The what now?”
“A military medal awarded to the first soldier who breaches an enemy fort.” She flicked her gaze toward Jason. “You’ll notice no one in the Fifth except for him has one.”
I grinned, feeling the fire under my skin burn hotter. “Is that right? Guess I’ll have to claim one for the entire cohort.”
Gwen laughed. “That’s not how it works.”
“Don’t sweat the details. I’ll make it work.”
“We’re about to start,” Jason said, his voice dropping the playful tone.
I turned to Leila, the joking mood evaporating from me as well. “Make sure to be careful. Three days of intense training made them better, but it isn’t enough to completely close the gap between our guys and everyone from the First and Second.”
Leila met my gaze, and for the first time, I saw something other than annoyance in her eyes. “You just worry about kicking the door down.”
“She’s right,” Gwen added, punching me on the shoulder. “You already lit a fire under all of us, Serif. We won’t let you down.”
Her words echoed through the rest of the cohort as they murmured their agreement.
Since they believe in me, I better not let them down either.
The horns blew.
“Let’s go, Jason.”
I blasted fire from my feet, launching skyward. Jason rose with me, riding a column of wind. Together, we rocketed toward the fortress entrance.
High-pressure streams of water erupted from the cannons mounted on the wall. Jason veered in front of me and swept his arm out. A solid wall of air curved in front of us, splitting the water into harmless sheets that sprayed down onto the field below.
“The gate is yours, Serif! You said you wanted to make a statement, right?”
He’s starting to get it.
I grinned as I spread my arms wide, gathering fire between my hands until it grew into a giant sphere. Then I hurled it. “Statement coming up!”
The fireball collided with the gate, causing an explosion that shook the very foundation of the fortress. The massive iron gate was blown off its hinges and across the courtyard in a wreck of molten metal.
With the entrance cleared for the others, we moved on. Below us, defenders were scrambling, their attention split between the shattered gate and the two threats circling above them.
As we began our descent toward the widest section of the wall, Jason shot a downdraft of wind directly below us. The legionnaires who’d been forming a shield wall there had their formation broken in an instant.
I used the opportunity to land right in the middle of them, one knee down, and I even hit the stone hard enough to send cracks spiderwebbing out.
Classic superhero landing. Always wanted to do that.
The defenders just stared, their mouths hanging open from the overwhelming power of our entry.
A centurion from the Second was the first to shake off the shock. “Don’t just stand there! SWARM THEM!”
A wave of purple-crested helmets charged. But before they could reach us, Jason thrust his lance out, and an arc of lightning shot out, jumping from one legionnaire to the next. Screams filled the air as all the attackers in the front line dropped their weapons or collapsed entirely.
That was my cue.
I rushed into the paralyzed group, shoulder-tackling the biggest legionnaire. The impact sent both him and the defender behind him tumbling off the wall. The others started recovering, but a quick leg sweep took out another. I ducked underneath a sword, snatching the legionnaire’s shield, and used it to smash him in the face before tossing it like a frisbee at another. I grabbed the next one by the collar and hurled him off. One more tried to get in close, only to be backhanded.
From the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of blue light heading toward me. I didn’t even flinch as the bolt went past my shoulder.
I spun around to find some poor guy twitching, and yanked him up by his legs.
“Thanks for volunteering!”
I swung my new club in a wide arc, clearing a circle around me before tossing him back into the crowd like a bowling ball.
The wall was clear. All that was left was the groans of the defenders we'd taken down. A glance confirmed Jason was fine.
“Alright,” I said, catching my breath. “Looks like it’s time for us to split up. The banners should be somewhere in the center of the base, but since Marcus wanted our performance to be decisive, let’s completely take out both cohorts first.”
I extended a fist toward him.
Jason looked at it for a second, his expression unreadable.
“Yo, just bump it.”
He huffed a small laugh as he bumped his fist against mine.
I glanced back over the edge of the wall and saw Leila leading the Fifth Cohort toward the breach.
Perfect timing.
I turned and ran for the heart of the fortress.
------------------------------
[Jason Grace]
Jason stood on the rampart, looking at his closed fist.
It was the first time he had ever done that. Romans shook hands. They saluted. A forearm clasp was the height of camaraderie. This gesture was casual, yet it felt more real than any other.
Is this what having a real friend feels like?
The thought was as foreign as the gesture itself. He had other relationships, but they were all defined by duty and station.
The legion respected him, but it felt like they respected what he represented, not him as a person. The Fifth felt like a family, but he was still their Centurion first. They followed him, and in return, he carried the weight of responsibility for them. Marcus and Serena saw him as a successor. Their guidance was a constant test to transform him into the Praetor the legion needed, a mantle he had been groomed for his entire life.
And then there was Serif. He came crashing in like a comet and lit everything on fire. Literally and metaphorically. Serif was someone who didn’t look up to him. Someone who challenged him, laughed at him, defended him, and fought at his side in the middle of a battlefield.
Jason was brought out of his thoughts by a roar from below. He turned his attention back to the ruined portcullis just as the main body of the Fifth Cohort surged through the breach.
“Hold them back!” one of the defenders shouted. “It’s just the Fifth!”
A line of ten defenders from the Second Cohort quickly formed a shield wall to bottle them up at the entrance. It was a textbook maneuver that would have stalled the old Fifth long enough for reinforcements to arrive.
But these weren’t the same legionnaires who had resigned themselves to last place. Their shields weren’t perfectly aligned, their spear thrusts were sloppy, but they roared as one and drove forward. The ten defenders were crushed beneath the weight of the Fifth’s determination.
The sight sent a jolt of pride through him.
He dropped from the rampart, using the wind to land lightly on his feet. “Archers, to me!”
Gwen and five others immediately broke from the charge and rallied to his side.
Jason pointed to a group of legionnaires, each bearing at least four black bars of service on their forearms. “Harris, Lee, Naomi, Sam. You four form a guard for the archers.”
They peeled off from the main group to form a circle around the ranged unit.
Then he looked at Gwen. “Gwen, you’re in command of this squad. Your job is fire support. Watch both fronts, Serif’s and mine. Suppress their archers and break up their formations for us.”
She blinked in surprise, but quickly straightened and gave him a salute. “Understood, Centurion.”
He addressed the whole squad. “Alright, brace yourselves. I’m going to send you up.”
With a controlled updraft of wind, Jason lifted the entire ten-person squad to the top of the ramparts, giving them a perfect vantage point.
Leila approached him as the rest of the cohort began to secure the main gate. “An even split should work for the next phase. Twenty-five with you to push for the Second Cohort, and I’ll lead the other half to support Serif.”
Jason immediately shook his head. “No. Serif is a natural disaster. The entire First Cohort is going to converge on him just to contain the threat. He won’t need a large support force.”
“That’s even more of a reason to bring numbers with me. He might get overwhelmed if they’re all going after him.”
“Do you really believe anyone will be able to overwhelm him?”
Leila paused, glancing in the direction where distant explosions and the chorus of panicked screaming seemed to answer for her.
“Fair point.”
She went back to the rest of the cohort.
“You, you, and you,” she began pointing out a string of the more experienced fighters until she had a small squad. “Alright, listen up! Serif is the distraction. He’s going to draw their main force. Our job is to move fast, capitalize on the chaos, and grab the banner while he has their full attention. Move out!”
Jason watched Leila’s chosen fifteen follow her into the fortress, then looked at the thirty-five who remained with him. “We’re moving to the western tower where we’ll take on the Second Cohort!”
He led the charge, his contingent falling into a loose running formation behind him. As they left the relative cover of the gate and sprinted across the open courtyard, the air was filled with a volley of arrows and scorpion bolts.
Jason flung his palm out. The air in front of him thickened into a shield.
The arrows were instantly deflected, but the scorpion bolts struck like a sledgehammer against his barrier. He clenched his jaw as he shoved more power into it.
Suddenly, the pressure on his shield eased. Jason caught glimpses of defenders on the towers ducking below the merlons as a counter-barrage of arrows from Gwen’s squad on the ramparts found their marks.
His squad used the opportunity to cross the field with minimal resistance.
As they neared the base of the western tower, the entrance burst open. A force of about thirty legionnaires from the Second Cohort charged out, their shields locked as they formed a cuneus, a charging wedge designed to punch through their line.
“Switch into a Forfex formation!”
The Fifth Cohort scrambled into the formation. It should have been a mirror image of the enemy’s wedge but with the center held back and flanks advanced instead, allowing them to draw the enemy wedge into a pocket where it could be attacked from the side.
What he got was a flawed attempt, one with too many gaps and uneven spacing. Still, they moved without hesitation.
It might not be perfect, but I trust them. And if they struggle, I’ll balance the scales.
As the cuneus picked up speed, Jason raised Ivlivs to the sky. Lightning crackled down on the ground directly in front of the enemy’s charge, forcing the front ranks to stumble into the newly formed craters. A few more bolts struck shields, the concussive force staggering their wielders.
The Second’s perfectly synchronized charge had its momentum broken.
“Now!” Jason roared.
He and his cohort crashed into the disoriented enemy line before they could recover.
The battle devolved into a chaotic melee. Jason’s eyes scanned the fight until he spotted the enemy centurion’s purple plumed helmet.
As their swords clashed, he channeled a powerful current of electricity through his gladius.
With a sharp cry, the centurion dropped her weapon and clutched her spasming hand. Before she could recover, Jason stepped in and drove the pommel of his gladius into the side of her helmet, knocking her unconscious.
Seeing their leader fall, the Second Cohort wavered. They tried to rally, but the Fifth were already on them, pressing with raw desperation.
It didn’t take much longer for the fight to be over, but it hadn’t been clean. Jason saw a few of his legionnaires down, being tended to by their comrades. Dakota was leaning against the wall. Even as he clutched a bleeding arm, he gave Jason a wild grin.
They had won. His part was done.
Jason turned from his victorious but battered soldiers toward the heart of the fortress, where the sounds of explosions that could only belong to one person echoed from.
Now, it was time to support the main event.
------------------------------
I sidestepped a spear thrust and drove my flaming fist into the guy’s chestplate. He went flying backward, taking two of his friends with him.
Honestly, this was getting predictable. The First Cohort was supposed to be the best of the best, but they fought like training dummies. Maybe it’s a valid strategy when both sides fight that way, but it clearly wasn’t working so well for them this time.
I glanced over my shoulder to see how the cleanup crew was handling things. They’d been jogging along behind me, picking off stragglers here and there, but mostly watching the fireworks.
That’s gotta be boring, right? This should be the first time the Fifth Cohort is dominating a war game, and yet they’re taking the back seat. They deserve some fun too.
I flew higher, getting a bird’s-eye view of the battlefield. Further to the east, I spotted a group of around ten defenders. They were scattered and disorganized—the perfect practice dummies.
I swooped down, raising a curving wall of fire that cut off their escape. With a few quick bursts and another wall of flame, I herded the panicked legionnaires together, pushing them from all sides until they were a single, tight knot of confused soldiers. Then, with one final wall of fire behind them, I drove the entire group forward, straight toward Leila and her waiting strike team.
For the first thirty seconds, it was entirely one-sided in my cohort’s favor.
But after weathering the initial assault, the defenders locked their shields and presented their spears, then began to systematically push back. The Fifth’s chaotic charge, which had been so effective moments before, now faltered against a disciplined wall.
One of our guys overextended a spear, and two enemies immediately capitalized. One hooked his shield and the other threw him to the ground.
Guess the First are the Legion’s elite for a reason. Better even the odds for them.
From my vantage point, I sent a series of weak fireballs at the defenders’ backs. Some of them hesitated, turning back to check if I was pursuing them again.
It was the only opening the Fifth needed.
With a single command from Leila, the squad crashed into the First. The disciplined defense quickly devolved into a collection of individual duels. Duels that my team were winning.
Okay, I could get used to this style of teamwork. I get to do my own thing, and everyone else still gets to work with me. Might not be the Roman way, but I like it.
BRAAAM!
I turned toward the main gate, where I heard the horn echoing from. The Third and Fourth cohorts were marching through the breach. They looked like they were ready for a victory parade.
Oh, hell no. We kicked the door down, cleared the walls, took on the two strongest cohorts in the legion, and these vultures think they can just march in and steal the final prize? Sure, we’d asked them to stay back, but they’d been more than happy to let us go on our own when they thought we'd get slaughtered.
“Hold the courtyard!” I shouted, already igniting the jets at my heels. “I’m getting the banner before those bums lay a finger on it.”
I rocketed toward the central keep where the banners were held. The place was almost empty, only a handful of guards remained after our assault. They barely had time to register my approach before I left them groaning on the floor with a series of fiery punches.
“Impressive. Truly impressive.”
I stopped, turning toward the voice. Stepping out from behind a thick marble pillar was Octavian. For whatever reason, he wasn’t armed or even wearing armor. He was just standing there in his toga with a serene smile on his face.
He took a step closer. “Frankly, I’m glad you won. Our centurions were… overconfident. A good lesson for them.”
The feeling I got from him was comparable to the monsters I’ve faced. Like the ones pretending to be normal as they preyed on defenseless humans. Maybe nowhere near as malicious, but it felt disgusting.
“What do you want, Octavian?”
He spread his hands in a gesture of friendship. “To offer you a future. An opportunity. A talent like yours is wasted in the Fifth Cohort, no offense to them. They’re a fine holding pen for testing new recruits, but you’re destined for the center of power.” His tone became conspiratorial as he continued, as if he were letting me in on a great secret. “You know, transfers to the First are rare. A legionnaire proves themselves for years. On average, the best of the best might get an invitation to join the First Cohort when they’re fifteen, maybe sixteen. It’s the pinnacle.”
He gestured around the room, at his defeated comrades. “You’ve done in minutes what it takes others years to accomplish. I am officially inviting you to transfer. Leave the rabble behind. Join the First. Join the elite, where you belong.”
I’d rather fight another twenty legionnaires than listen to this guy talk for one more minute.
“The First Cohort?” I asked, tilting my head with exaggerated curiosity. “Why would I want to join a team that just got its ass handed to them by the rabble?”
Octavian’s smile faltered. “A temporary setback. But just think of the benefits, the influence you can have. You would have a direct line to the Senate. You might even become Praetor one day. You could truly shape the futu—”
“Hey, sorry pal. As fascinating as this is, I really need to cut this short. Can’t let the other cohorts steal the victory while we’re in here chatting, you know?”
He took a step to the side. “Of course, of course. Claim your rightful victory first. We can continue this conversation later.”
I looked at the polished bronze mounts that held the banners. They were symbols of power, of discipline, of everything this place was supposed to be. Then I looked back toward Octavian, who was still smiling at me.
“One last thing, Octavian. You’re a member of the First, right?”
“Well, yes. As Augur, I—”
“Ooh, tough luck, buddy. The Praetors want to see a decisive victory from me.”
Before he could process the meaning of my words, I drove my fist upward in an uppercut. The scrawny augur was lifted clean off his feet and landed in a heap on the marble floor.
I stepped over his unconscious body without a second glance. I yanked both banners, then flew back to the main courtyard and landed in the middle of my cohort.
They just stared, their eyes locked on the captured banners in my hand.
A grin spread across my face as I waved the banners for them. “Yo. I promised, didn’t I?”
That’s all it took.
Dakota doubled over, laughing so hard he couldn’t stand up straight. Gwen was grinning from ear to ear with tears streaming down her face. Several of the larger legionnaires hoisted me onto their shoulders.
“SE-RIF! SE-RIF! SE-RIF!”
From my perch, I saw Jason moving through the crowd, giving out forearm clasps to our victorious but exhausted soldiers. Our eyes met, and he made his way through the bodies. When he reached me, he just held up a fist. My grin widened as I bumped it with my own.
As we began to march out of the fortress, our cohort’s triumphant cheers were the only sound. We were no longer the disgraced Fifth. We walked past stunned, defeated opponents from the First and Second Cohorts. And past equally mystified “allies” from the Third and Fourth, who were still standing awkwardly in the courtyard.
I looked up to the eagle where the Praetor duo were and gave them the biggest smirk possible.
“The game is won!” Marcus’s voice boomed across the field, and I could have sworn I heard the faintest trace of a laugh. “All cohorts assemble for honors!”
Comments
Phantom knight who can’t think of a better nicknam
I’m eternally grateful for that uppercut
The Kriegan
Honestly peak potential moment for Serif to meet mommy Hestia the Bestia at the victory feast here. She can blend in at a feast’s hearth (or bonfire, same thing)
