The main screen changed from the tactical map to the insides of a lavish Medes warship. The form of Menon, supposedly killed on Aronton, stood in the centre while another approached. Cyrus nodded as his brother moved next to Menon and stared with his cold black eyes back at the Terrans.

"You attack me in my own lands, brother. For this betrayal you have started a war that will not end until every planet you call home is burnt to ashes, and your body is impaled at my Royal residence!" he roared and then the feed cut out.

Cyrus and Clearchus looked at each other, neither of them having anything more to say. It was a major blow, there was no denying it. With the Emperor gone, the battle was now pointless and any victory irrelevant. Those ships that were able to escape were already trying to jump while an even greater numbered signalled their intention to surrender. It was a victory but a hollow one.

EPILOGUE.

Median Flagship Rashnu, Khorram shipyards The battle for Khorram was over and the time for consolidation and recovery had begun. Hundreds of Medes crewmen were in the process of being escorted from their fallen ships, though a small number of them had elected to serve on board the ships of Ariaeus. It was the capture of the Rashnu that was the real prize, and over a hundred technicians and intelligence experts from the Legion were already stripping anything of note from her innards.

Xenophon and the other warriors that had helped secure her were busy moving the wounded warriors from both sides when the shapes of Strategos Clearchus, Lord Cyrus and their entourage of bodyguards arrived. Every Terran warrior stood smartly to attention as they marched past. As they reached the centre of the Royal Chamber, they moved to the glowing orb still pulsing in the centre of the room. Lord Cyrus stopped alongside it and looked inside as if he expected to find something. The rest of the guards spread out to the fringes of the room.

"What is it?" asked Clearchus.

Cyrus turned to him, his expression one of disappointment.

"It's a command throne. From here you can visualise and control any ship or systems."

Clearchus looked confused, so Cyrus stepped through the shimmering object and indicated for Clearchus to join him. He hesitated for a second before stepping forward. As he pushed inside, he noticed it felt like static electricity as he moved through the field. Once inside it was as if he was back on the Valediction, the interior of the orb showed the space outside the ship and the hundreds of ships that had taken part in the battle.

"Just look at a ship and think about it. Look closer, issue orders, all with the mind."

Clearchus looked at one of the Elamite battleships that had surrendered just an hour earlier. He looked to the aft weapon mounts, and they instantly filled the orb.

"Impressive."

He stepped back out of the orb and looked to the four Dukas that had boarded the ship in the midst of battle. The nearest was Xenias, commander of the Arcadians, and the first to have made it inside. He stepped forward and grasped his forearm.

"Dukas Xenias, it is good, very good to see you. Your forces did excellent work here, and they are to be commended."

The Dukas nodded in acknowledgement. Clearchus moved on to the next Dukas, continuing his visit to thank all of those involved for the turning point of the battle. As they continued their discussion, Xenophon and his friends watched the processions of senior figures but especially Clearchus and Cyrus. They had become more than just the men in charge of the campaign; they were larger than life characters, and the kind of people that would be written of in later annals of history. As they stood and waited patiently, Cyrus stopped and looked towards them. He stared for several seconds and then marched over and grabbed Artemas, pulling her to his body. He spoke excitedly but in the impossible to understand Medes dialect all the nobles seemed to use.

"What the hell?" said Glaucon, and perhaps little louder than he should.

The noise drew the attention of Clearchus who turned from the Dukas and marched over to Cyrus. He noted the Medes woman, but there were no signs of recognition from him.

"Who is this?" he asked politely.

Xenophon saluted and replied as quickly as he could.

"This is Lady Artemas, daughter of Lygdamis, one of the Median governors of the Ionian Territories. She has been assisting our operation to rejoin you. It was she that gained us access to the command centre of this ship," he explained.

Cyrus turned to Clearchus; his expression had already turned from the disappointment of the battle to the pleasure at meeting Artemas.

"Strategos, let me introduce my niece, Artemas. I thought she had been lost when we lost contact with the territories."

He turned back to her but continued in English.

"So you have been with the Legion from the start? I would never have guessed."

He then looked to Xenophon and his small group.

"And who are these people, your friends?"

Artemas nodded and placed her hand on Xenophon's shoulder.

"This is Xenophon, ex-Alliance soldier and leader of my personal bodyguard. These are his warriors."

She moved along the line, stopping at each of them.

"Julius, commander of Dukas Xenias' elite commandos, and if it were not for them, none of us would have survived the treachery of Tissaphernes."

Clearchus looked surprised at the news of the Medes noble, but Cyrus seemed unperturbed by what she had to say. She then reached Glaucon who was still carrying his pulse-cannon.

"Glaucon, friend of Xenophon, a loyal soldier of the Terrans, and his right arm has protected all of us since we started our trip to rejoin the Legion."

There were only two left, Roxana and Tamara. They were both filthy from the fighting, and Roxana had two sets of rough bandages on her wounds.

"Roxana, Alliance military, and is the wisest of them all. This one is Tamara, and she is the wolverine of the group."

Tamara looked confused at the name, but Clearchus and Cyrus both laughed with amusement at the distinction.

"Well, my friends. It would appear we have much to discuss. We have your Titan, Tissaphernes, our current situation and the unresolved issue of your brother, Lord Cyrus."

"Indeed, and I will join you shortly," said the Medes noble. Clearchus returned to the Dukas, but Cyrus stayed with Artemas and her friends.

"I thank all of you for both your loyalty to the Legion and more importantly to me, for the protection of my niece. I would like to invite you all to dine with me this evening, on board the Valediction. I will arrange for my guard to make the arrangements."

He nodded politely, then released his grip on Artemas and returned to Clearchus. Artemas turned and looked back to her comrades.

"Well, my friends, it would appear you have just made a new and powerful friend with my uncle. I suggest you get cleaned up before he calls for you."

Glaucon moved up to Xenophon and grasped his shoulder.

"See, I told you it was a smart move to stay with the Legion. If we'd gone back home like you wanted, we'd probably still be rotting in a prison cell."

Roxana and Tamara moved closer to Artemas, both of them with surprised looks on their faces. Tamara seemed to have brightened up, but none could tell if it was down to their survival, their new found friends or just the aftermath of blood and carnage.

"So Cyrus is your uncle?" asked Tamara.

Artemas nodded quickly.

"My family have been in hiding since the troubles on the border. Family politics is complicated. Let's just say it is safer for us to be hidden but close to our friends and Uncle Cyrus."

Roxana smiled and nodded in understanding, the situation was now starting to reconcile in her head.

"Hence there being a number of your family in the fleet. So are you really Imperial Agents, then, or Royal stowaways?"

Artemas simply smiled at them all.

"That is mere semantics."

Julius, the newest member of their circle nodded towards the assembled spatharii who were waiting patiently to be allowed to continue with their work. Most were talking amongst themselves, but not one dared to move away until given the word by their superiors. Clearchus turned from the waiting Dukas and looked to the warriors. He lifted both of his hands, the small bandage still showing on his left hand.

"You have all done outstanding work. Until we have established the whereabouts of the renegade Artaxerxes, we will stay in this sector and consolidate. You have all earned yourselves a good rest. You shall have a week's dispensation while we repair, rebuild and reconnoitre this area. I will ensure a number of the stations are made available to you for some well needed R&R!"

The assembled warriors cheered in pleasure at the news. In truth, he needed the time to repair the fleet, take on supplies and integrate the scores of newly captured ships into his fleet. Cyrus nodded at his short statement and leaned closer to speak quietly into his ear.

"A good plan, and with this defeat, we may well find the regional satraps begging to join my forces. He may fall without even another fight!"

Clearchus smiled back, but deep down he knew full well that no tyrant would give up his position so easily. Artaxerxes had been beaten this time, but he had an empire of billions and unimaginable resources with which to fight. He looked at the warriors around him, the captured battleship and then to Artemas and her group of Terran friends. He pondered the future, and it filled with dread.

He will be back, and next time I suspect the battle will be like no other in history.

BLACK LEGION: WARLORDS OF CUNAXA.

By Michael G. Thomas.

PREFACE.

The Black Legion series combines my background in computing, ancient history and European martial arts with the famous story of Xenophon and the Ten thousand mercenaries. I wanted to create a rich and exciting story inspired by the political machinations of Heinlein and the military plot of The Anabasis. Though others have used ancient tales as the basis for some great science-fiction novels, I believe this is the first time the story has been simply transplanted into a fictional futuristic setting, without altering totally from the original. I have retained the locations, races and characters as much as possible while adding additional elements that I hope add to the story. You do not need to know the story of Xenophon but if you do, then you are sure to enjoy the twists and turns that are inspired from the struggles of those tired and desperate Ten Thousand soldiers.

The original adventure was detailed by the Greek professional soldier and writer Xenophon himself in his great work titled The Anabasis. The story is one of the great adventures in human history and shows man at his best and worst. We meet strange people; and find new customs while watching the arguments and infighting amongst the Greeks themselves. I can truly recommend the original text, which is available freely in English translation. There are of course many changes to the main story, but I have endeavoured to stay as close to the original as possible and include many of the great events that took place. All the key players are there including Xenophon, Clearchus, Tissaphernes, Artaxerxes, and of course, Cyrus. There are many news words for the reader to get through, and I have added a handy glossary at the end of the book to help with the most common. The military terms and designations are a combination of Ancient Greek and Byzantine, and I have tried to avoid using our modern equivalents, such as generals and platoons. I appreciate that many will not have come across the terms strategos, dekarchos, dukas or spatharii, but by the end you will be an expert, and I hope you find it helps immerse you into the story and the great adventure that was the Anabasis.

CHAPTER ONE.

Median Battleship *Rashnu'

Strategos Clearchus, the supreme military commander of the Black Legion surveyed his prize with barely concealed pleasure. Few Terrans had even seen a Medes warship before, and even fewer had seen such a monstrous beast as the Rashnu. His eyes scanned through the interior of the Royal Chamber, and though he could appreciate its engineering and artistic merit, he could see little that would appeal to a warrior like him. The more he examined her interior, the more the ship reminded him of why he felt so little empathy towards the Medes.

These people think they know something of war. They are nothing but slave drivers.

The battleship Rashnu was the largest and most powerful ship in the entire Imperial Fleet, and named after the ancient Medes' divine angel. She was supposed to stand for justice and last judgement in the Empire; more heavily armoured and shielded than even an Elamite battleship and filled to the brim with hardened warriors, each and every one of them sworn to give their life for that of the Emperor himself. The ship was so vast that to the Terrans she was classed as a super-battleship, a type of vessel second only to the twelve planet-sponsored Titans of humanity. Unlike the drab ships of the Terrans, this flagship was brightly coloured to an almost garish degree. She was designed to get the attention of all that came across her, friend or foe, and that had been exactly what had happened to her in the bloody space battle at the Imperial shipyards of Khorram.

"Present arms!" called out one of Lord Cyrus' personal guards in heavily accented English. It was a polite gesture on behalf of Cyrus to his trusted Terran warriors. The line of newly named Anusiya fighters lifted their rifles high to the air. Cyrus had adopted the name of the Royal Bodyguard in the last week as part of his official naming as Emperor of the Median Empire.

Nothing but hot words from a politician with deep pockets, he thought.

Though Cyrus was indeed the half-brother of Artaxerxes, he was most certainly not the rightful leader of the Empire. Not that any of it truly mattered to the Terran commander; he was a mercenary like every other soldier, pirate and cutthroat in the Legion. The Emperor of the Median Empire would be chosen simply by whichever of the two men was left alive, and it was his job to ensure that Lord Cyrus came out as the true victor.

The stomping of soldiers' feet caught his attention, and he watched with wry amusement as the Medes soldiers paraded back and forth in front of Lord Cyrus. They were pretty that he couldn't deny, but it was hard for him to disguise his contempt for the men who considered themselves the equals of the Terran warriors. He was sure he could see equal contempt in their eyes for the vulgar, scruffy and brutal Terrans, but that merely improved his mood even further.

Clearchus was never alone, and this was especially true when in the presence of the Medes. Though he was the leader of the vast military operation, he still had many enemies in the Medes military. Some had been turned against him only recently, but for the rest it was hundreds of years of enmity between two very different peoples. As always on such occasions, he was flanked by his two trusted topoteretes, the common word used to designate his deputy commanders. They were the equivalent of generals or admirals in most military forces and like all Terran senior commanders; they were expected to do both jobs. On his left, the mighty warrior Kleandridas and on his right the cunning tactician, Pleistoanax. All three stood in their full military regalia with body armour and crimson cloaks, marking them out as the warrior elite of Laconian society.

Of all the disparate Terrans peoples, the Laconians were known as the first among warriors, and Clearchus was their greatest living commander. No sane Terran strategos would ever send his ground troops into battle against a Laconian strategos. The man that sent his soldiers to face Laconian troops under the command of a Laconian strategos was doubly the fool, and the Medes knew this full well from their futile attempts to subdue the Terran worlds in the past.

"They still haven't removed the stench from this place," muttered Kleandridas.

Pleistoanax grinned at his insult, but Clearchus maintained his famous stoicism by saying nothing. Instead, he lifted his eyes to examine the Royal Quarters of the mighty Medes warship. Rashnu had been the flagship of the Imperial Fleet and commanded personally by Emperor Artaxerxes at the previous battle of Khorram. Though powerful when in battle against other ships, she was vulnerable like all vessels to being boarded. The Terran had shot and hacked their way inside and taken her as a prize. Although heavily damaged, Clearchus had offered her to Cyrus as a gift. It was a useful gesture and had done much to further the Medes nobleman's position with his people. Of course, to Clearchus it was a hulk, a piece of scrap that he might just use for target practice.

So, this part of the ship is to be accessed by only those of Royal blood? I must be a king then! He thought.

He grinned to himself at the simple conceit. Back on Laconia he had been second only to the kings in power and prestige. Unfortunately for him, this had meant sending him away as often as possible to keep him out of internal politics. That part he didn't mind, but it had resulted in his exile, following a number of unfortunate incidents under his command. He looked at the ground and was instantly reminded of the fighting in this very place. A great deal of Medes blood had been spilled in this very room, and it pleased him to be stood there observing more of them trying to impress him. Lord Cyrus spotted his interest and moved from his position at the end of the room towards Clearchus. It was only a short distance, but everyone other than the marching soldiers watched with interest. The lithe and elegant figure approached the Strategos and nodded. Clearchus did the same. The difference between them was marked. Cyrus, the taller and paler of the two with beautifully intricate robes and flowing regalia; Clearchus, the squatter figure with thick sinewy muscles, and ceremonial armour that followed the curves of his body and the blood red cloak of the Laconians. One looked kingly, the other like a muscled warrior god of antiquity.

"Strategos, my friend. How do you find this display?"

Clearchus smiled back at him.

"As always, your soldiers put on a fine display of marching."

Cyrus detected the sarcasm but decided to not act on it. He knew perfectly well that he could never change Clearchus' opinion of his own people. Of all the Terrans, the Laconians were the least likely to ever see the good in the Medes. The two were as far apart as it was possible for them to be. Cyrus lifted his left hand to add something but was interrupted by the opening of the great doors to this part of the ship. They were massive, and easily large enough to move a ship through. At the base of the mighty doors emerged the form of Ariaeus, the Median general and second in command to Lord Cyrus. He marched into the Royal Chamber with ten attendant Medes at his flanks. Cyrus watched his approach, but Clearchus turned his attention back to the parading soldiers. He showed nothing but contempt for the Medes commander as he stopped in front of the small group. With an extravagant flourish, he bowed down in front of Cyrus.

"My Lord Emperor," he said so that Clearchus might hear and understand.

The old Terran commander did the unexpected and turned to face him. He nodded at Ariaeus as if the bowing had been specifically for him. Ariaeus snarled at him.

"Clearchus, why are you here?"

Cyrus inhaled before speaking in a firm tone.

"Lord Ariaeus, I am glad to see you have finally arrived for the demonstration."

Clearchus looked at them both with a mixture of bemusement and interest.

"Of course, my Lord Emperor. I have brought my finest for your pleasure."