Page 77 of Ensnaring the Dove

Perhaps if Aedan had been given time to think about it, he would have refused to raise a sword against his own people.

But in the heat of the moment, as Onnum blazed and Brigante warriors crawled over the walls of the fort, intent on slaughtering every soul inside it, he made a different choice.

Onnum had been his home.

Colombia was still here too, safe for the moment behind the high walls of the compound. He wasn’t going to let these warriors reach her.

The irony that he was now fighting alongside those he resented wasn’t lost on him though. But it didn’t bother him as much as he’d thought it would.

Wedging himself into the line of soldiers, and holding his shield aloft, Aedan braced himself against another volley of arrows. A moment later, he rushed forward, joining the legionaries as they met yet more warriors.

There were so many of them.

Aedan didn’t know who’d rallied this army, but he recognized the tattoos of many of the warriors. Indeed, they were all Brigante, hailing from south of the Wall.

And as he fought, stabbing with his short, vicious sword, Aedan became aware that the misty drizzle had changed to a downpour.

Cold needles of rain pelted the wall, driving against the bodies that writhed upon it.

What with the smoke, slashing blades, and the slippery wooden planks underfoot, it was perilous up here. Unlike the Romans, who wore heavy mailed sandals that gripped well, Aedan’s soft-soled boots slid as he fought.

“Futuo!”Someone growled behind him.

Aedan had just driven his sword through the eye of a warrior who’d tried to sink a knife into his guts, when he swiveled to find Severus Juventus glaring at him. He’d lost his fancy helmet, and rain slicked his face, plastering his short greying dark hair against his skull.

“What areyoustill doing up here?”

“Fighting,” Aedan grunted, blinking water out of his eyes. “What does it look like?”

Whirling around, the commander bellowed an order up the wall. “Ad latus stringe!”

Close the ranks.

Within moments, they’d formed another line—and Aedan joined them—just as yet more Brigante warriors scrambled over the edge of the wall, landing like agile cats on the wet planks.

“Parati!”Juventus shouted.Get ready. “Percute!”Charge.

The ringing sound of blades clashing echoed through the night, accompanying the rumble of thunder overhead.

The rain cascaded down now, slashing across the fort like a waterfall.

Aedan fought on, focusing entirely on holding the wall. Fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with the Romans was a new experience indeed; they approached battle differently to his own people. Despite that they were the defenders, that they’d been caught off-guard tonight by this attack, they rallied swiftly. And through it all, their lines never broke.

Was it any wonder their armies had conquered the world?

At first, the tide of Brigante warriors had seemed unstoppable, yet as they fought them off, the flow of attackers ebbed.

But when a tall and lanky warrior, with a thick brown mustache and long hair scraped back and fastened at the nape of his neck, lunged onto the wall, Aedan recognized him instantly.

Maccus.

Despite that battle fever held him in its thrall, Aedan’s heart started to kick against his ribs.

He’d fought alongside the outlaw leader many times during his time with the band.

Maccus was the best fighter he’d ever seen.

Despite his height, he moved with almost boneless fluidity, at one with the long iron blade he wielded. Fighting two-handed, Maccus clove a path through the soldiers who barred his path.