XIII – Spears, Fur, And . . .?

And the day just kept gettin’ better and better.

Those @#@%$ spears kept coming in ever increasing numbers which put me an’ my boys in a very bad way. We couldn’t stay turtled forever, plus we were using the wrong shields for that type of formation. Needed rectangular scutas instead of the oval types we were carryin’.

As a result, some enemy spears got through our protection and winged some of us. I could hear the low cussing going on as some of the guys checked for battle damage while maintaining the turtle. We, of course, had immediately returned fire, and the air was thick with Roman Pilums and enemy spears we picked up and returned to their owners.

The exchange went on for what seemed like hours and we began to soak up casualties. Whoever those guys were, they were pretty handy with their weapon of choice . Just as I’d had enough of this #$#@ and was about to order a full scale charge, the spears stopped coming. We, in turn, stopped throwing and settled in behind our shields.

Of all the things I expected to happen next, the reality wasn’t in my play book. Out of those dangerous bushes, a small, furry hand waved what appeared to be a halt, as some sort of gibberish passing for the spoken word accompanied the hand signals. At that point I could’ve lived with a cease fire of any kind.

Out of those bushes appeared a trio of the strangest critters I’d ever set my eyes on, and believe me, I thought I’d seen most everything there was to see. They were covered from head to foot in what looked like short canine type fur. As they got closer, I was fairly certain they couldn’t be more than four feet tall.

This was confirmed when I broke formation and walked very cautiously up to them with Acteus and a trooper in tow. Sure enough, I had to look down at them while they strained their necks to look up at us. They all had blue, little round eyes that oozed innocence. Reminded me of Tiny.

All I had to do was remember the injuries my people had just received from these guys to set my head straight. The Shorties, as I called them, wore no clothes except a large sack hanging from right shoulder to left hip. No weapons were in sight. At least nothing that I though of as a weapon. At least the missile toss had stopped.

Then the next stumbling block popped up. Aside from hand signals, neither us nor them could understand one another. As I tried my best to verbalise the problem, the Shorties only exchanged gibberish among themselves then looked back to me. Just as it appeared we would never get past the language barrier the weirdness got weirder. Out of seeming nowhere, the lead Shorty looked up at me and, believe it or not, spoke.

“Why are you here?”

I stood there completely stunned. The little guy had just spoken to me in down home latin. Hoo boy! I had to answer fast so as not to seem rude. Gods only knew what else these guys had hiding in those bushes.

“Well . . . we’re looking for somebody. Big lizard type with large fangs and long claws. Smells pretty bad too.”

The Shorties gibbered among themselves and their leader looked slightly scared.

“Sounds like you met Nephilim. Very bad types. Kill for the thrill. Go home! You’re outclassed!”

Nephil what!? What had we stumbled into? I continued.

“Sorry guys, but we can’t get back home. The way is blocked.”

Shorty looked even more scared. He said two words that made no sense. At the time.

“Great Lords!”

What in Caesar’s name was going on here? I had cause later to regret that question.

Chapter XIV

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