Ever My Merlin (Book 3, My Merlin Series) by Priya Ardis

cavalry of five thousand men guarded the front and back of the column. They successfully pushed back the lighter Vandal cavalry. I stood at the front of the infantry line under my commander, Septimus, whom I would have gladly slain, if given half a chance, but I had to survive this battle. I had to buy back my freedom from the snake.
    Septimus took one look at the muscle-bound, fifteen-year-old boy, wearing nothing but a simple, white loincloth and a cheap yellow crystal necklace, and paid for me on the spot. I was spared the humiliation of the slave markets only to find myself at the mercy of a man who was capable of much worse. He was also the only man who could remove the necklace binding my powers.
    An army of ten thousand should have given us an advantage over the seven thousand Vandal troops, but due to the disorganization of our commanders, our ranks faltered while theirs marched deep into our lines. Septimus led our legion. With naught but a shield, a sword, and a prayer, I wore the crimson cloak of a Roman, the banner of a fading civilization, and struggled to maintain our line. Crude faces adorned in brown and grey fur, a plethora of Vandal barbarians grinned at me through broken teeth even as their blood was spilled under my sword.
    Hack. Slice. Pull back. Block. Hack. The barbarians were bigger than I, but not as well-trained. I don’t remember how many I killed, but I was never one to keep count. Time passed with only the loud buzz of battle deafening my ears. At one point, I turned and saw no one at my back. Our numbers scattered and a grisly end seemed inevitable. Then, the tide turned. The Vandals, who were winning, failed to press their advantage. Suddenly, their lines began to show large gaps, while in front of us, a beacon of Roman red streaked the sky. It was none other than Belisarius himself who pulled our lines back together. The Vandals retreated, falling into complete disarray. Word spread that a Hun cavalryman, a mercenary under Belisarius, took down a Vandal prince. While they grieved, it was time for us to push back.
    The stink of battle finally lessened that night. The broken bodies of men and horses lay strewn across a dusty field. Devoid of even bushes or trees, the usually arid land was finally soaked. Blood fed its parched ground. In the morning, we overtook the city.
    Its citizens opened the gates without protest. Belisarius cleverly declared the people of Carthage to be oppressed Roman citizens—which meant they would be spared and not become the spoils of war. Septimus, as many of the other commanders under Belisarius who expected to make their fortune in the aftermath, was not exactly thrilled with the edict. On the other hand, any Vandal and his property, which included his family, could be taken without censure. Rumors of a great treasure, taken during the sacking of Rome and supposedly hidden by the Vandal king drove the soldiers into a frenzy as they ruthlessly sacked the city.
    A few citizens protested. Belisarius impaled the head of one such wealthy landowner in front of the townspeople and the protests immediately abated. I looted treasure from an abandoned house before searching for Septimus. With my leash held tightly in his hand, he had no fears that I would try to escape.
    It didn’t take long to find him. A group of his soldiers were pillaging a wealthy Vandal household near the king’s palace. The noble’s house stood several stories. As soon as I entered, I knew I found the right place. I tightened the leather strap of the baldric across my chest. The gold, which I wrested away from another soldier, sat heavily inside its pouch. A cohort of soldiers, about sixty, ransacked the spacious house. In the front room, a few feasted on fresh fruit without a glance toward the body of an old woman, possibly a nursemaid, lying on the floor. She was naked, her legs splayed wide, and her stomach was mutilated from the repeated stabs of a sword. Bending down, I drew together her