Copper Centurion (The Steam Empire Chronicles) by Daniel Ottalini Page B

Nortlanders as they tried to flee. Another legionnaire began to say something but died as a repeater bolt entered his eye. He dropped like a stone. Julius screamed orders for his shield wall to reassemble. Enemy airmen were now involved in defending their ship, and their weapons were just as deadly as their Roman counterparts’.
    “Repeaters! To the edge and suppress them!” Julius ordered. Only a few members of the repeater teams raced forward now, as most had been absorbed back into their parent squads. Julius sent another runner to tell the bridge that the A Deck boarding attempt had been repulsed and they were mopping up the survivors.
    “Remember to tell them that we’re counter-boarding!” he shouted at the messenger. As the man raced off, Julius continued the assault. They overwhelmed the last few Nortland attackers, dispatching them in a flurry of sword strokes. The immediate area clear, the Romans pressed on.
    Julius’s boots thudded over the wooden planks of the bridge, and he jumped onto the enemy vessel. The design startled him at first, since he had never had a good chance to closely examine enemy mechanical vessels. Whereas the Romans built up to the gasbag, the Nortlanders had an entirely open top deck, like the top of a sailing vessel. Many thick cables stretched down at intervals, connected to large rings around the gasbag. Some sort of exposed frame? Julius wondered for half a second, then ducked as several repeater bolts tore past him, eliciting screams behind him. Get your head into the battle ! Julius berated himself.
    He located a hatch on deck and had his men form a line in front of it. “Hold here while I set their ship aflame!”
    The senior squad leader looked beyond him, at a new group advancing on the two squads that had invaded the deck. A Nortland noble must finally have located some more men, or steeled the spines of the fleeing barbarians. “We’ll hold them as long as we can, sir.”
    Back on the Scioparto , seeing what his commander was up to, Gwendyrn shouted, “Sir, we’re cutting the boarding ramps behind you. We’ll hold as long as we can, but hurry up with your errand!”
    “I’ll bring you a souvenir, you insubordinate farmer!” Julius called back. “Just make sure I can get home after this!”
    He lifted the hatch and peered into the gloom within. He could hear the enemy charging the thin line of legionnaires behind him. Taking a deep breath, he descended the ladder, poised to meet whatever or whoever was waiting in the depths of the enemy airship.
    After pausing to let his eyes adjust to the dark interior, he began wandering the maze of corridors, lit only by a few unevenly spaced lanterns, several of which had gone out. Julius wondered if the interiors of all Nortland vessels were this depressing. He crept past several weapons galleries, noting that the weapons they used were nearly identical to his Roman artillery pieces: large and small bolt throwers, large and small explosive throwers—although most of the Nortland pieces appeared to hurl rocks rather than the gunpowder-filled canisters that his countrymen used.
    At one point, Julius overheard orders being given in Latin, and the sounds of heavy fighting. There was little time to spare. He pushed onward and, finding a small closet, ripped the cords on two of his phosphorus flares, then tossed them inside, onto a pile of spare gasbag canvas. The phosphorus ignited in a harsh white light, illuminating the hallway. The canvas quickly caught fire. Julius left the door open just enough so that the fire could escape the confines of the narrow room.
    He stepped out into the hallway, and came face to face with a Nortlander. Bellowing, the man swung his fist at Julius’s head. Julius managed to twist aside, taking the blow on the overlapping steal plates of armor on his left arm. Limited by the tight confines of the hallway, he charged toward the bigger man, and head-butted him. The iron tang of blood filled the air as