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    Fall of Jupiter: A Short Novel
    Fall of Jupiter: A Short Novel
    Fall of Jupiter: A Short Novel
    Ebook75 pages1 hour

    Fall of Jupiter: A Short Novel

    By Edward Punales

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    About this ebook

    In the twilight years of the Roman Empire, a fleet of trade ships goes missing in the uncharted waters of the Scandinavian north. In the wake of the tragedy, the Emperor of Rome dispatches five war ships, to find the missing traders. What they find instead is a watery wasteland, with horrors beyond their wildest nightmares.

    This novella can also be found in the short fiction collection, Symphony of Humanity.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEdward Punales
    Release dateJan 14, 2014
    ISBN9781310536403
    Fall of Jupiter: A Short Novel
    Author

    Edward Punales

    I’m a writer, poet, filmmaker, and lover of mythology, science fiction, art, and cheeseburgers.  I’ve published three short story collections, written and/or directed a handful of short films, regularly publish new work on my Medium page, and have spent way too much time on the internet watching old vine complications. I used to write under the pen name Edward Lange, but I switched to my real name in 2015. I live in South Florida.

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      Book preview

      Fall of Jupiter - Edward Punales

      FALL OF JUPITER

      EDWARD PUNALES

      Fall of Jupiter

      Written By: Edward Punales

      © 2013, 2015 Edward Punales / All Rights Reserved

      Smashwords Edition

      Cover: Detail from Scary Eye by Piotr Siedlecki

      This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the copyright holder.

      All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

      Author’s Note: First, I just want to set the record straight to avoid any confusion. This story was originally published under the pen name Edward Lange. It has been republished here under my real name. Second, this story contains strong language and graphic violence. Reader discretion is advised.

      CHAPTER I

      Amid the dying embers of the once great fire of Rome, a fleet of five war ships set out on a voyage of vengeance.

      The fleet departed the crumbling empire which bore it from the bay at Ostia. The once youthful energy of Ostia, an energy that had greeted dignitaries from across the sea, that had defended its country from foreign invaders, had been superseded by a listless decay that permeated every street in the once proud city.

      Vagrants begging for food sat on the hollowed steps of government, where once stood powerful men whose influence extended to the furthest reaches of the earth. Thugs roamed the markets searching for victims, where once honest men earned their prosperity. Dust and broken promises littered the squares, where people had once walked, assured that they lived in the most powerful nation the world had ever known.

      The sun was setting on Rome.

      In the light of this setting sun, on the creaking, rotting wood of the old docks of Ostia, the tired crowd gave their meek farewells to their champion ships in port. There were five ships; The Pluto, The Mercury, The Neptune, and The Mars, with The Jupiter in the lead. Named after the Gods themselves, they were all state of the art vessels, built by the most brilliant roman engineers, using the latest techniques known to the empire; a veritable fleet of the gods.

      The proud ships sat waiting as their crews of fighting legionaries marched on in straight single file lines, and boarded them. Their quarry awaited them in the unknown lands of the Scandinavian waters to the north.

      Several months before, a trio of ships, heralds of trade, had been dispatched by Rome in the name of wealth. It was hoped that the strange north might hold wealth enough to rehabilitate the crumbling empire.

      The heralds never returned.

      The warrior fleet began to depart the withering harbor, when from below the deck of The Jupiter, a stout, bony figure climbed out. Sunlight bounced off the mane of snow white hair that sat atop his scar littered body. He was dressed in the traditional roman legionnaire uniform: a brown sleeveless combat vest and a tunic that ended just above the knee. A scratch-ridden sword lay in a sheath that hung at his hip.

      He walked out to the side of the vessel that overlooked the old dock. He rested one old callused hand on the railing of the ship and raised the other in the air to the people below. His cracked lips parted to form the warmest smile his haggard face could muster. He was the only man in Rome, who hadn’t lost faith. He was Dion, Commander of the fleet.

      The Commander had spawned from a family of soldiers. Many a childhood night had he spent listening to the stories of his forefathers. He’d heard how Carthage had fallen, how Antony had been defeated at Actium, and how Pirate scum was eradicated in the Mediterranean. Through these stories, his young mind had become filled with fantasies of exotic lands, wars won single handedly, and glory the gods would envy. He joined the day he turned fifteen.

      As the years had been unkind to Rome, so too had they been unkind to him. He’d seen soldiers desert from his ranks, to fight with opportunistic, renegade generals. Men whom he once looked to as brothers locked swords with him on the battlefield as only the bitterest enemies might.

      And the villages. Entire families slaughtered by the savage trash that had invaded Rome in its time of weakness. The years had taken their toll on his body, but not his spirit.

      From his perch upon the ship the commander looked down at the sea of faces spread out before him. The young who’d only known the good times as they knew of myths and legends, stood alongside the old, who’d long given up trying to tell those around them of better times.

      Behind the pessimistic glares and disinterested stares, the commander sensed the thing that had drawn them all to this dock. Hope.

      Not just hope that the trade ships could be found, that the crews did not perish, and that those responsible for keeping the heralds at bay would be dealt with as only Roman legionnaires can.

      They were hoping, even for just a moment that the power of Rome could be demonstrated. That their empire was more than a dying dream; that it would protect them and their children, from the dangers of the savage world outside.

      This thought sat on the old Commander’s head as he waved to the people on the dock. He took a

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