The town of Ravenna was a small affair; two or three rows of houses built around a market square. It was, however, the centre of a city of tents.
The small band of magi rode into camp just as the sun was setting. The column stopped where the tents started.
"Everyone! Dismount!" Claudius shouted and the weary students dropped from their horses.
Iatus got one foot stuck in its stirrup and fell on his side. Max helped him to his feet and he let out a deep sigh.
"The ground! I've missed you my friend!" Iatus moaned gratefully.
After their incident they had ridden at a forced march for two days to reach the camp, stopping every six hours or so for no more than an hour. The students and horses were exhausted and shaken to the bones.
"Start making camp for the night! You will find what you need in that tent there! Two to a tent!" Claudius shouted again and turned his horse towards the centre of the camp.
They collectively groaned and shuffled over to a large tent nestled in a group of smaller ones. Inside were metal poles and canvas and a pile of firewood.
"Really?" Max sighed next to Iatus in disbelief.
"No use complaining..."
They groaned as they picked up some poles and canvas and went to find a space.
Apparently it was harder than it looked and Max and Iatus struggled with it. When it fell down for the third time they threw down their tools and looked out at the rest of the students in desperation. None of the first years had accomplished the task and most of the second years were having problems. Except Amber, of course, who was skilfully directing a band of imps in putting up her tent.
"Why didn't we think of that?" Iatus asked.
"Because we're stupid?"
Iatus nodded and summoned Gopple and two other imps, Max summoned his mouse.
"Well, hi there Bossman! Been a while, and it doesn't look like the time's been good to you!" the annoying lizard said way too loudly for Iatus' liking.
"Shut up Gopple and just put up our tent."
"Righto Sir! You three! You heard the Boss, snap too it. Iggy, grab that pole, and... weird-hamster-thing-I've-never-met-before?... you drape the canvas!"
"You too Gopple!" Iatus snapped.
"What? I'm doing, I'm doing!"
Iatus sighed but he was too tired to argue.
Eventually, somehow, the imps got the tent up and Iatus and Max sat by their fire warming the same dried meat they had eaten for the last two days.
"So this is the road to war?" Max sighed.
"Sucks doesn't it?"
The two boys laughed despite themselves and they quickly fell asleep, too tired to even dismiss their imps.
The next morning they were woken by a horn so loud the tent shook.
"Uhhhh..." moaned Max.
"Uhhhh..." agreed Iatus.
The two boys crawled out of the tent to see men marching through the camp.
"Get up you lot!" Claudius shouted from atop his white horse, "We're forming up for the march, mount up!"
The students groaned but managed to get up on their horses again.
"Right! Normally each century of men would be assigned a single mage, but as you have not finished your training yet, you will be assigned in pairs. So partner up!"
Max and Iatus looked at each other and shrugged. There was a bit of swirling about but eventually everyone was partnered up. Everyone except Amber, who sat mounted at the front, glaring.
"Amber, you go with..."
"Forgive me, Tribune, but I can manage on my own, I will have a century around me, after all."
Claudius pursed his lips, "Very well then. Now, each pair count off in turn. Starting from you two over there."
Claudius pointed at the two students at the far end of the group and each group shouted out a number in turn.
Max and Iatus were number 14.
"Right! On the opposite side of town the legion is forming up. Everyone report to you centurions, look for the banner with your number, good luck everyone!"
He galloped off towards the legion and the students followed dutifully behind.
The last of the legion was just forming up and the students hurried off to join their ranks.
The 14th century was apparently an archer division.
"Oh, thank the Gods," Max said as he saw their bows, "No front-line action for us!"
Iatus smiled in relief as well. They rode over to the man in front of the column, they presumed he was in charge as he was the only one wearing any armour, shiny bronze stuff with a plumed helmet, the rest had simple red tunics. The boys dismounted and saluted.
"Who are you?" the big soldier said gruffly.
Iatus and Max looked at each other.
"I am Caius Maxentius and this is Iatus. We are the magi assigned to your century."
The soldier squinted at them, overtly assessing them, "What? You two brats? How old are you? Ten?"
"I'm 14," Max replied calmly.
"That's why you've been assigned two," Iatus put in.
The centurion looked at them then grunted, "You had better make yourselves useful. You're not magi yet so to me you're just cannon fodder, so don't you think you outrank me. You will ride at the back of the century. Get in line."
"Yes sir," they said and led their horses to the back.
A few minutes later a man wearing a very shiny set of steel armour, with a bright red cape and helmet rode up on a black warhorse to the front of the legion. Iatus supposed he must be the Legate.
"Romans!" he shouted and the legion silenced at once, "Today we march on Gaul. Rebel armies have been reported around Lugdunum, Massilia and Placentia. They think that they can take up arms against the might of Rome, but they have never had to contend with us! We shall send them back to the holes they crawled out of! In pieces!"
A rousing cry came from the legions and the man on the horse trotted off towards the road North.
"Oh, yay! More travelling! What a joy it is to be a mage. I was promised power and fortune, well, this would be a good time for someone to make good on that," Max complained to Iatus.
"Well, kill enough Gauls and they might just make you a Consul."
"I wish."
They turned their horses and started following the band of archers through the dust, Northward, to fame and fortune.
Gods protect us, Iatus thought to himself.
They crossed into Gaul on the third day. Iatus didn't know what he was really expecting but there was no large wall or border marking or even a sign, the fields were still the same and the road continued on unchanged. He only knew they had crossed at all was because the Legate announced it and told them all to be extra vigilant. They camped in large clusters with soldiers constantly on the watch for any sign of the rebels.
Iatus woke on the fourth day of marching with a crick in his neck from sleeping on the hard ground. His hands and feet were numb as well to the point he could barely move them.
Apparently I've got used to sleeping on a comfortable bed.
He reached up to try and massage his neck and found that he couldn't move his hands at all. Looking down he found them tied tightly together with thick rope.
He stared at them for a moment, his sleepy brain unable to process why his hands were bound. It turned out that both his hands and feet were tied to a post sunk into the earth with weird scribbling runes on it.
He groaned and tried to pull the ropes but the post was stuck fast. He wasn't going anywhere.
As the sleep faded his head started to throb and he moaned in pain. He looked around, trying to make out shapes in the dim light. He was in a fairly large tent, but it was almost completely empty except for another shape tied to a post on the opposite side.
"Max?" he said, surprised.
When the shape didn't stir he said it louder.
Max groaned and opened his eyes, "It's not time to march yet, is it?"
"Max, we're tied up!"
"Huh," Max said, looking about at the ropes binding him in confusion.
On further inspection it turned out that their tent was in fact a collection of leaves and sticks fashioned into a shelter. It was basically a dome with a hole for a door that looked out into woodland. It was tall enough for a man to stand up in and wide enough for him to lie down in comfortably.
"What are we going to do, Iatus?"
"I don't know..."
Where has Aelith gone? He was supposed to be on guard.
They had crossed into Gaul yesterday and it had been Aelith's practice to perch on top of their tent while they slept.
"Ah, I see you are up," said a head that had poked round the side of the shelter. The Latin was heavily accented but understandable.
Iatus and Max both subconsciously pressed themselves against their posts in an effort to get away.
"Who are you? Where are we?" Iatus demanded.
The rest of the man followed the head into the shelter. In one hand he held a large, serrated hunting knife, on the other perched a raven that looked at them intently.
"You're a Gaul!" exclaimed Iatus as he realised the implications.
"I am called Jalec. You are in our camp. Now that you are awake I would like to ask you some questions... let's start with an easy one. Who are you and what is your rank?" the man said, spinning the knife in his hand dexterously.
Iatus bit his lip, if this man thought they would talk just because he waved a big knife around, he was dead wrong.
"I'm Max and he's Iatus. We're magi," answered Max, his eyes never leaving the knife.
Iatus hung his head. Oh Max.
"Very good, I like you, talkative. Very good indeed. Now, where are you marching to?"
"Placentia," Max said so quickly the syllables blurred together, "then Massilia, then Lugdunum."
"Good, good, I believe you. Is that where you think the rebels are?"
"Yes," Max replied.
"Good. How many Magi are there in your group?"
"About a hundred."
"One hundred Magi?" the man said, shocked, "Why so many for a single legion?"
"Because we're not yet full magi, we haven't finished training."
Oh, Gods, help me! Kill him now! Smite him with lightning or something!
The man laughed, "Very good! You have been most helpful my friend. Go Ixia, tell Urien."
The raven snapped its beak and flew off.
"Goodbye," he said simply and walked out.
"MAX! You idiot! Why did you just tell him everything! You didn't even attempt to lie or hide ANYTHING!"
"But... he would have tortured us!"
"SO? You just condemned everyone to death!"
Max hung his head, "We would of told him anyway. And that's a little dramatic, what can they do with that information anyway?"
"They could ambush them, or attack the camp at night or... anything! You could of lied, tricked him somehow."
Max gave a little whimper.
"Max, we need to escape, we need to warn them!"
Iatus whispered Gopple's command word. Nothing happened. Iatus bit his lip and tried again. Still nothing.
"Max, I can't summon anything, try your magic!"
Max gave a sniff then muttered something. Nothing happened. He tried a different word and still nothing happened.
"It's no use, we'll just have to wait until it's over and hope they release us. I can't take this war stuff anymore."
"Shut up Max, we're not in a war! We're tied to a post!"
It must be these strange symbols carved in the wood...
Iatus turned his head as far as it would go and began to chew on the symbols as best he could .
"Iatus? What are you doing? You won't escape like that!"
"If... I... can... just... scratch... one... of... these... symbols... off..." Iatus replied between mouthfuls of wood.
Max watched him curiously; he was making very little progress into the wood, succeeding only in scratching the surface, the symbols were too deeply carved.
"Iatus, please calm down."
Where on earth has Aelith got to? Stupid birdbrained... when I get my hands on him!
"Iatus," a voice in his ear whispered.
Iatus jerked round but there was no-one there.
"It's me!"
"Aelith?" said Iatus
"Who? Iatus, stop it. Calm down," Max said, his voice trembling.
"Iatus, listen to me. The posts you are tied to are covered in magic seals, nothing of the ether can get in that tent, I can just about say this but I can do no more."
Iatus pouted, "Where were you last night? What happened?"
"I was asleep with you..." Max replied suspiciously.
"They used powerful cloaking magic, one minute you were there, then you were gone, I've been tracking you all night. Just sit tight, for now, they wouldn't have gone to all this trouble just to kill you now, there's a plan somewhere here."
Iatus gritted his teeth, he was damned if he was just going to sit and wait while the rest of the legion could be in danger. There had to be some way out.
Jalec returned a few minutes later.
"We are moving out, Urien would like a word with you."
He clicked his fingers and two stone golems, about the size of the average ten year old, appeared behind him. They walked up, pulled the poles out of the earth, boys still attached, and carried them out.
The camp was built a little ways into the wood, around a central fire pit with seven shelters similar to the one Iatus and Max had been stored in.
"Where are we going?" Iatus demanded.
"You'll see," the man responded quietly.
"Where are your horses?" Max said.
Iatus looked around, confused, Max was right, there were no horses.
"Oh, we don't need horses," the man smiled and waved his hand.
The space in front of him shimmered and waved, like a mirage. It twisted in on itself and then the air swung away from them, like a door.
Max's and Iatus' jaws dropped as they looked through the hole in the air, out on to a long hall. Servants milled about, cleaning the three, long tables that stretched the length of the hall of food. At the end was a raised platform with a massive, high backed seat in the middle.
"Through you go," Jalec said and the golems stepped through the hole.
Jalec followed them through and ordered the Golems to put the boys down.
"Welcome, my friends, to Alesia, the Capital city of free Gaul," Jalec proclaimed grandly as the hole sealed shut behind them.