Daniel was the smartest of the brothers, learning words and concepts better than Marcus, yet their Mama favored his brother over him when it came to filling a head with the long-held learnings of people’s pasts. He gleaned more about the world as it functioned in the present than his brother Timothy. Yet he didn’t know the shape and function of the tool he would inherit from his parents.
Nor was he as hot-headed as Timothy. Unlike his brother, he had self-control. Yet he’d had none this afternoon. He’d spied and likely irritated people with reputations. Now all his self-control focused on keeping his wits about him because his stomach wanted to roll and pitch.
Daniel slapped the slats. He was a soon-to-be future-seer and he would not be cowed by thoughts of a what-will-be that might not happen. He refused to believe that his fate was a beating at the hands of a dragon.
But what, exactly, was the what-will-be he so feared? He and his brothers might be only a month into their sixteenth year, but he understood himself well enough to know when terror took root in his belly.
Another wolf howled. Daniel closed his eyes. The worst terrors were the unknown kind. The undifferentiated noises in the dark. Did he hear an animal with slicing teeth and ripping jaws? Were the sounds made by raiders sneaking in to burn their home, kill their fathers, and rape their mother?
Daniel’s gut clenched again. Why would he think such thoughts? Father would see trouble before it attacked his family.
He always had before. Always.
The man in the pool had looked as if no terrors threatened him. He was the real, walking grace and strength the priests told the villagers Jesus was supposed to bring to their lives. Yet Papa called the Dracos dangerous.
Wolves were graceful and strong. Wolves, like all the large animals in the woods, were also dangerous—often more dangerous than the most dangerous creatures alive… men.
In the barn below him, their work horse snorted. They lived under a lord, but they were a rich family, one with livestock and lands. Father was a sought-after carpenter. The church came to him for building, even if they did chatter. Mama had satisfactorily solved many disputes over the years, enough that the villagers came to her instead of riding to their lord’s castle. Papa managed the homestead and his sons. He made trades and he cared for their world.
Daniel had no cause to complain, nor did his brothers, but sometimes they wondered if the future Father saw was the real future, or simply the inevitable reflection of what he allowed himself to see.
The inevitable stalked Daniel like a wolf in the trees, a silent, stealthy creature with a lovely silver pelt and jaws that would turn him to quivering, bleeding meat.
He just needed to get a better look at the future.
Chapter Six
Father held to his word. His three boys walked to the church with him in the morning, all carting tools, their faces downcast. When they arrived, Father put Marcus and Timothy to work on the long timbers. Daniel, he sent into the open church to carve the pews.
They had yet to set the new roof. The interior of the church stood open to the wilds of the world in much the same way as the ruins by the river, but here, village men scurried between stones and buttressed timbers. They built scaffolding toward the heavens, lifting stones into the arches, and set about enclosing a new house of God.
Under the wooden roof of the small refectory off the back of the building, Daniel carefully hewed the wood of a pew so as not to mar its pristine surface. This bench was to be sweetly curved and flowing, as if it ran with the animals outside. It was, as Father said, to represent the beautiful grace of the universe.
One of the older priests, Brother Tambor, frowned at the extra care Father put into the structure of the church. He also spent more time staring at Daniel as he worked than engaging in any activity of worth. The man seemed to carry a great deal of disapproval in his bones, and not just for ornate seating carved by young men.
Father had squeezed his son’s shoulder. “Do your best, Daniel. God—all the gods, son—” He leaned close, being that they were inside the house of God and speaking of other gods was not wise. “Gods and their representatives appreciate when we recognize their beauty.”
He walked away after that, leaving Daniel more confused than he had been the previous night.
Daniel refused to think about his perplexed and addled mind, and instead focused on his task. Work and motion trumped thought and confusion, so Daniel scraped and Daniel scuffed.
Once the church’s arched roof was set, this pew and the others like it would move into the main hall and under the colored light thrown by the rosette window currently being constructed within the stonework.
He’d never seen glass before, much less glass that glimmered as if fire lived inside it. But their lord had paid for the window, and though small, it would give the church extra grace.
“Are you thirsty?”
Daniel looked up from his work. The sun’s brightness flooded through the deep cuts in the church’s sides and illuminated the interior well. Today, all the priests milled about, with two older men painting holy scenes on the walls while Antonius tended to the workers and the congregation.
They’d spoken when Daniel first arrived, standing close in the corner of the church, until one of the older priests scowled at Antonius. It turned out that the visiting priest had left early that morning for their lord’s holdings, and had taken the three foreigners with him. Antonius did not know more beyond their shared suspicion of secret political dealings.
Most often, such dealings did not affect the villages beyond annoyance and the danger presented by large numbers of drunken, armed men in their taverns and camping on their borders.
But this time, the politics brought with it an unease. When the armed men hailed from distant lands, they cared only for their own needs. If their lord did not deal well politically, the village might see violence.
And often, priests paid a higher price than the people in the countryside.
“I would like some water. Thank you.” Daniel set down his chisel.
Antonius blinked his big, brown eyes. He smiled as he held out a water skin. “I suspected you wished to drink.” Yet another genuine smile followed.
“Thank you.” Daniel sipped. He nodded over Antonius’s shoulder, toward the wide doors of the church, where Father worked. “The carvings go well.”
“Your father’s work is beautiful. We are blessed to have him.” Antonius glanced at Father, then immediately back to Daniel. “Do you have your midday meal? You must remember to eat.”
How could a family send away such a caring and handsome person to the church? Daniel did not understand. Antonius would have brought nothing but skill and comfort to his family’s affairs.
“I do.” He handed back the water.
“I have mine. Would you like to eat together?” Antonius pointed toward the door at the back of the church. “If you wish company, that is.”.
“Yes,” he said. “Let me finish this edge.” He pointed at the pew. “I won’t be long.”
Antonius’s smile widened. “All right.” He bowed his head once, then leaned closer. “I found a new scroll. I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier.” He glanced over his shoulder again. “I will need to report my find soon.”
He must want help reading the text before he turned the scroll over to the other priests. Daniel wasn’t the only young man who participated in stupid behavior that could get him into considerable trouble.
Antonius backed away, smiling still, and turned to provide water to the other workers.
Daniel and his brothers did not have many friends in the village. Attention, yes, but not friends. No matter how respected his parents might be, the villagers tended to sidestep around the brothers.
He returned to his scraping. Perhaps Timothy had been more attracted to Ingund’s refusal to back away than to her body. She did tend to get in other people’s business. Daniel chuckled as he shaped his final curve. The curlicue wrapped around a large
r node in much the same way Ingund wrapped herself around the brothers’ lives.
By the door, Father talked with Ingund’s father, the stonemason. They argued good-naturedly, two big men with big easy ways, but they never seemed more than business partners. The stonemason’s four sons worked with him daily, and the second-youngest was the same age as Daniel, though like many of the village, he did not interact with their family.
Father slapped the other man on the back before sauntering toward Daniel. “We will have the doors set by day’s end.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Where are your brothers?”
Daniel shrugged. “They do not tell me when they run off, Father.”
Father frowned under his smooth beard. Mama liked her husbands groomed. If she didn’t, Daniel suspected Father would walk the earth unkempt and looking like a giant bear.
The flat stare of a Parcae using his abilities flickered across Father’s eyes and his frown deepened. “Go eat your meal with your friend.” Father waved him away.
Daniel wiped his hands on his tunic. “Yes, Father.”
“Be back before the sun curves too far past noon. I wish your help with setting the hinges.” Father pointed at the door. “Understand?”
Why did Father continue to treat Daniel like a child? “Yes, Father.”
Father nodded once. “Go.”
Antonius stood and wiped his hands on his frock as Daniel walked out of the refectory door and into the bright midday sun behind the church. “You came.”
Daniel held out his oiled-cloth-wrapped meal. “Father says I must return before the sun dips too far past noon.”
Antonius watched him carefully. “I’ve been studying.” He waved his finger at the leather satchel on the bench. “But there are a few words I do not understand.”
There were not many in the area who read; his mother had been adamant about her sons learning Latin and the local languages as well. They were to pay attention and to learn any and all new writing. It would serve them well in the future, though Daniel suspected Papa and Father allowed time away from chores more to humor their wife than because either saw value in the skill.
Though he knew their talismans carried writing. His parents each carried an odd, small bundle of gold rods or twigs and a miniature golden axe all wrapped in two ribbons of silver. The twigs were no longer than the length between two of his knuckles. All wore their bundles on chains buried deep under their clothes. They never showed their talismans to anyone, their sons included, though Daniel had glimpsed their talismans enough times to know each bundle was wrapped by a silver band engraved with Latin.
“I’ll help you read the scroll,” he said.
Antonius’s beautiful, bright smile returned. “Should we go to the ruins?”
The wide stone terrace was close to the pool—and well-lit this time of day. Perfect for exploring a dingy scroll.
But it was a long enough walk that eating and exploring plus their travels would keep them away long past noon. They might also see more foreigners.
“Do you think it’s safe?” Daniel asked.
Antonius glanced at the other priests scurrying around the stonework. “It’s quiet.”
It was. Quiet and private and calm. And Father did tell him to go.
Daniel waved the young priest through the door.
Chapter Seven
A light breeze rustled the leaves overhanging the ruins. Daniel danced down a wide corridor lined with grand arches. The walls crawled with green vines and small, scurrying creatures but the air always smelled fresh and the sun always reflected off the stone, filling the rooms with light. Reading here was always easier than reading anywhere else.
Several of the rooms held murals. The remnants of their colors glistened with rich, brilliant blues and violets, yellows and reds, and sweet, subdued greens. Some were built from small, colorful stones and shards, and embedded in mortar. Antonius called the pictures mosaics. He said he’d learned the word from the older priests when they discussed how best to decorate the new church.
New, brighter smiles lit Antonius’s face between bites of his midday dried meats and hard bread. “This place is magical. I know of no other word to describe it.” He leaned close. “We priests are not supposed to talk of magic. Miracles, yes. Magic, no.” He shook his head.
Daniel grinned. “It’s not magic. It’s Roman. Mama says they were a rich people with many skills.” He took a bite of his own dried meats. He chewed, then swallowed, before pointing toward the low, broken wall they preferred for reading. The area was shaded but bright, and favored their eyes. “Though Romans still walk the land, the Rome that built this villa is dead.”
Antonius walked ahead, his step light, and ran his hand down the wall.
Daniel tucked the remains of his meal back into its containing cloth. “Mama also says the new men who come from what remains of the Empire might still be rich, but they no longer live with a wealth of skills.”
Antonius tapped a circular pattern that must have once held another painting. “What do her words mean, Daniel?”
He’d long wondered about his mother’s words. “I think it means that the Empire’s remaining magic is corrupted. I think the Romans no longer understand how to build places like this.” His mother’s words always felt heavy, to Daniel. “I think she meant to tell us that we are to be wary of their kind. That they live off a decaying corpse and they wish to plunder what still stirs.”
And that he and Antonius needed to be extra careful in case they came across more foreigners.
Antonius touched a mural of a man reclining on a long, bed-like furnishing. He tipped his head the way he often did while they worked on understanding the words written on a scroll. “I wonder if they taught all their children to read.”
Daniel shrugged and hopped up onto the wall. “I don’t know.”
Antonius smiled as he watched Daniel climb. He spent a lot of time smiling when Daniel was around. “You are quite handsome.”
Daniel laughed and offered his hand to help his friend scale the wall. Antonius’s rough brown frock could, at times, become unwieldy. “As are you, my friend.”
Antonius’s smile widened and he looked away but he took Daniel’s hand. Quickly, he scampered up the stones. He fussed with his frock then sat close enough to Daniel that their elbows and knees knocked together. “Did you know these aren’t the only ruins? I found the scroll in a jar under the old church’s foundations.” He fished in his bag.
Daniel and Marcus had found a stand of columns one afternoon while traveling with Mama to another village. “The estate must have been huge.”
Antonius pulled out the scroll. “I cannot decipher these words.” Carefully, he unrolled the thick parchment and laid it flat in the sun, to allow them to squint at the faded letter forms. “It speaks of something called ‘cohorts.’ Is that correct?”
He ran his finger over a long column of names and numbers.
Daniel peered at the writing. Many of the marks had vanished, but he picked out enough to get a sense of what he was looking at. “It’s a count document of a Roman legion.” Carefully, he ran his finger over a tally. “But this looks wrong.”
Perhaps he misunderstood. Mama had given her sons a basic understanding of the old Roman military system. She said they needed to know because there were many of their own kind who were as Roman as they were Parcae. If the brothers were ignorant, it could mean their deaths.
But this document talked of a “legion” that was not large enough to be a legion. He scanned down the scroll. They counted individual soldiers as ten, sometimes twenty, regular soldiers.
A few were marked as cohorts in and of themselves. He peered at the names: Andreas Theodulus Sisto; Darius Junonius Sisto; and a woman’s name, Livia Sisto.
Who could be so powerful as to be—
But he knew. “They’re Shifters,” Daniel breathed.
“What?” Antonius squinted at the names. “What’s a Shifter?”
Daniel shook his head a
nd ran his finger down the scroll. And there, at the bottom, the two names of the legatii of this particular legion: Dracos and Dracas. “They’re the soldiers of the Dracae.”
Antonius’s lips rounded. “The ancestors of the people living in the fortified settlement up the river? They’re not Christians.” He shook off his shock and his face took on hints of disgust.
Daniel frowned. “How do you know that?”
Antonius squirmed and his frock rubbed against Daniel’s side. “I crossed their lands before settling here.” He pointed over his shoulder. “With Brother Tambor and a few of the other priests. The people of the dragons allowed us in but we were not to ‘bother the good folks with our Lord’s words.’”
Antonius had spent time in the dragons’ home? “Did you meet one of them? Did you see a dragon?” Did they share this experience?
His friend shook his head no. “We were kept in the part of the town the lords did not often frequent.”
“Oh.” Knowing someone else had seen a dragon would have, somehow, made it true, as if Daniel didn’t believe his own eyes.
Which made no sense. Papa said he had most definitely seen the Dracos. That the man’s name was Ladon and that there was, for certain, a dragon nearby. But it seemed… magical, in the way that the ruins felt magical. As if the man and the dragon with him were not of this world or this time.
Perhaps that’s what his mother meant by the splendor of the old Romans. Perhaps the Dracos were all that remained of the true Empire. The scroll certainly suggested such.
Slowly, Antonius rolled up the parchment. “Many of the men in the town were larger than any man I have met before. Larger than your father or Brother Tambor.” He tucked the scroll back into his bag. “The man in charge was a giant named Andreas, same as the name in the scroll.”
Antonius squeezed Daniel’s knee. “The local villages around the town still sacrifice virgins to the man they call the Dracos.” His frown deepened. “So that he will bless their crops. How can people be so barbaric?”
Dragon’s Fate and Other Stories Page 4