Dragon’s Fate and Other Stories

by Kris Austen Radcliffe

  And he didn’t really care. “What is this insignia?” He pointed toward her arm. “On your bracers?”

  Livia pulled her arm back. “It is the mark of the Legio Draconis. The Dracos make them.”

  Daniel extended his hand to touch the metal.

  She cupped her other hand over the insignia. “Only true Dragons’ Legion are allowed to touch them, Parcae scum.”

  He snatched back his fingers. How could one piece of metal be so… beautiful?

  An inkling poked at his mind. “Why do you think all Parcae to be scum, Lady Sisto?”

  Her nose did the strange sniffing-death twitch again. “Not many of your kind walk this earth, boy.” She let go of his shoulder. “Parcae once murdered someone of great importance to the Dracae.”

  She turned her face to the sky. “Now Rome returns riding the same Parcae horse of pestilence and death.”

  The Shifter adjusted her belt again. “Your kind has a way of making the future they want come to pass no matter the price to themselves or others.”

  The Dracae must believe all Parcae sowed death and destruction.

  “We are not murderers!” The need to explain to her how he was not evil welled up in Daniel’s gut in much the same way as had his need for Antonius—an at-first-unknown creature that sprang on him fully formed and shredding.

  Livia Sisto pinched her lips. “Not yet.”

  He pointed at Ingund, an idea forming. “I will go in her place.” If someone needed sacrificing, then he’d step into their footsteps, for the safety of his family. For Antonius’s safety, because Daniel’s wolves, the ones stalking his life, howled in the distance.

  In the mists rolling off the river’s pool and through the ruins, the world changed. Men with power were about to cause damage in ways Daniel could not yet foresee. They’d meant Ingund to be a pawn on a game board of which he was only partially aware. She was to justify the addition of many, many knights.

  “Timothy and Marcus can activate with another potential future-seer. I will sacrifice my life so that this place is safe.” He squeezed his papa’s elbow. “So that my parents are safe, and my brothers. Ingund, as well.” He’d be away from Antonius. He’d no longer be a temptation. His friend could live his life as a good priest.

  “I’ll prove that we aren’t all evil. I’ll become what the Dracae need me to be so that they will protect the good people of this land.”

  Father would see that he wasn’t weak.

  Livia scowled. “Why is it that boys need to stick their cocks in where they’re not needed? It’s as if you feel you must pee on everything you see.” She reached out her hand to Ingund. “Come. I will take you to your grandmother and we will finalize this transaction. Then we will ride to your lord’s holdings to discuss how he plans to tithe to the Legion.”

  Ingund gathered her clothes. “Yes, Lady Sisto.”

  Timothy pawed at his bride. “She should stay—”

  “If you are truly to be the present-seer of a Prime triad, you should see in the what-is that you need to be quiet now.” Livia wiggled her fingers toward Timothy. “This is not your decision to make.”

  “I could go with her,” Daniel said. Maybe he’d get himself one of those insignias.

  “The Dracae will gut you the moment you walk through our gates.”

  “But—”

  The Shifter’s hand snapped around Daniel’s neck, and though she did not have significant strength, she knew where to press. “I smell desire on you.” She sniffed again. “Pine for Ladon all you want, boy. It will make no difference.”

  Ladon? No. He only wanted Antonius safe. She misinterpreted.

  Livia Sisto shook her head and tossed him toward Papa. “He’s not good at understanding his own motivations, is he?”

  Slowly, Papa shook his head as if to say no.

  Heat screamed up Daniel’s spine and down his arms to his fists. His hands and fingers clenched. “You do not understand what you scent! I am fully aware of my own thoughts,” he said. “I understand what I do and why I do it.”

  The people he loved needed protection.

  Livia Sisto pushed past into the corridor of the ruins, Ingund in tow. “You might not be evil, but you are a blight on this land.”

  Livia Sisto—and Ingund—suddenly, completely vanished from Daniel’s perception. “I will do what I can for this land, mostly because Ingund fears for your safety. But heed my words: Your presence may cause… issues. The Dracae will not willingly come to the aid of a village that harbors Fates,” her ghost voice said.

  The anger in Daniel flipped completely onto its head. He no longer felt its heat.

  No, all Daniel felt was cold.

  Timothy took them to the horses. They rode with great care through the trees, Papa on one horse and Daniel and his brother on the other. Timothy sulked but didn’t touch Daniel other than to hold to his waist when their horse jumped a branch on the path.

  Daniel didn’t talk, either. Wolves howled. What had Livia Sisto meant when she said Daniel did not understand his own motivations?

  He understood himself. Reactions might sneak up on him, but he understood what they were before they leapt onto his back and snapped their jaws onto his neck.

  Most of the time.

  Yet he could not push aside the similarities between his father’s words and those of the Shifter.

  It did not matter. What he understood now was that their lord had asked the Dracae for help from an approaching Roman force.

  The men he and Antonius saw would bring reinforcements and they would raze the land. Burn the crops. Enslave whoever they did not kill.

  A rich man with corrupted skills would come and rebuild the ruins. The stones would once again sing with flowing fountains and laughing children.

  Daniel blinked as his thoughts clearly and visibly played out on the inside of his eyelids. None of the children he saw would belong to a member of the village. Not one. They would all be good Christian Romans, with their good Christian lives and their own priests who lived by the new, good Christian code set out by the new Emperor. The code of the changing church. The one that frightened Papa and stalked Antonius.

  Antonius, his friend whom he’d kissed and touched. The man who smiled at every one of Daniel’s silly words and who laughed at all of his bad jokes. The person who didn’t seem to care if he had a problem with “understanding his own motivations.”

  Antonius, who might have more to lose than Daniel if the Romans returned.

  “Papa,” he whispered. “What are we going to do?” Why did he feel so sure of his predictions?

  In the low light, his papa’s face looked more like a shadow than a person. He uttered no words when he glanced over his shoulder from his horse. They rode through the brambles and the trees, toward home.

  At the tree line between their barn and the forest, Papa cupped his ear. Do you hear that? he mouthed.

  Daniel tipped his head and closed his eyes. Someone knocked around the barn. A thump banged off a wall. Wood cracked.

  But he didn’t hear the animals. Nor did he hear talking.

  Timothy dug his fingers into Daniel’s sides. “Do you feel it? Something’s wrong,” he whispered.

  Stay here, Papa mouthed as he pointed at the ground.

  Why? Daniel held up his hands.

  Timothy pushed at Daniel’s side. “Get down.”

  Daniel slapped his brother’s hands away. “You caused this!”

  “Daniel!” Papa pointed at the ground again. “Circle around on foot. Look for your father and mother and gather information, but do not engage, understand? Do not go near anyone you do not recognize. I will come for you.”

  Do as Papa says, his voice said. He had to cooperate.

  Daniel slid off the side of the horse.

  “Timothy!” Papa pointed back toward the village. “Ride to Ingund’s. Tell Livia Sisto that other Fates have come for us. Tell her—” Papa winced and pitched forward on his horse.

  “Papa!” Dani
el gripped his papa’s leg.

  Papa closed his eyes. “Tell her your grandfather is here.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Armored men carried Mama’s scrolls and books from their house and loaded them into a large, sturdy wagon. Others loaded Father’s tools. Their torches snapped and popped, and the night air hummed with insects and the grunts of burdened men, but none spoke.

  Daniel hid in the shadows of the trees. Where were Mama and Father? Where was Marcus? His family had to be nearby. They had to be.

  A woman wearing tattered rags danced out of the house. She twirled in the threshold, and her fingers flitted against the wood frame each time she turned.

  Something was not right about her. Something was very, very not right.

  The world burns, one of his small voices whispered. The burning world has come for you.

  The burning world will take everything.

  Daniel leaned against the tree. The small voices grew louder and… higher pitched. They felt as if they were riding toward him on very fast horses and as they grew closer, their tones compressed.

  His voices sounded as if the future rode into the present to trample everyone he loved.

  In the door of the house, the woman yelled foreign words at the men and slapped the frame. Her fingers slid down the smooth grain and she grinned and tipped her head as she stared at the wood.

  Her grin, to Daniel, looked as if Death itself had taken possession of her body. He swore her teeth shimmered in the glow reflected by the torches.

  One of the men poked at her with his sword. The woman seemed to scream more out of panic than pain. Her face pulled into a murderous mask, and she swung at the man.

  Sparks flew off her fingers.

  A stink he’d never encountered before rolled from the house into the shadows where he hid. A terrible stink, one both unwashed and inhuman. One that he immediately knew did not belong to the earth because nothing burned that way. Nothing that came up from under the ground, or down from the air above. Nothing real smelled as if someone had spent years and years perfecting a concentrated distillation of rotting flesh.

  Daniel dropped onto his backside in the dirt between the trees, his hand over his mouth, and stared at the demon the men had brought into his family’s home.

  The stink stung his eyes and his nose as if it ate at his face. The woman had brought Hell itself with her.

  The men set a demon upon his family.

  What if Mama, Father, and Marcus were still inside? Where was Papa? Did he also watch? Daniel had to do something. He had—

  He heard the war steed before he saw it. Daniel wiggled deeper into the shadows and prayed he hadn’t moved the branches enough to be detected, but reined-in clomps echoed off the ground. Armor clinked. A massive stallion, his great head protected by fine, intricate maille, snorted into the overlapping leaves directly in front of Daniel’s hiding place.

  The man astride the horse searched the bushes, his gaze piercing and focused. He held his back straight and tall, and the maille of his armor shimmered in the torchlight as he used the tip of his sword to bat at the branches above Daniel’s head.

  Faustus, a man who was not the tailor he claimed to be, looked down into the shadows and onto Daniel.

  He grinned very much like the demon. “Come out, grandson. It’s time to meet your destiny.” He sheathed his sword and offered his hand.

  Grandson? Was Daniel in the presence of the man Livia Sisto called “the assassin”? Or had he lied about his name?

  Faustus sighed. “Though I suppose you are not truly my grandson,” he said. “Not in the blood way your brother is.” He patted his horse’s neck. “Not that it matters. You three are a boon to our kind.”

  This man was not the assassin, nor was he the man they called Trajan. This man was Father’s father.

  Faustus leaned forward. “I am a teacher, young man. I make the best from the material provided to me.” He patted the horse once again. “We are here to bring your family to safety.”

  If the horse decided to lunge, death would fall onto Daniel as a rain of hooves. He didn’t have room in the bushes and the shadows to squirm away fast enough to not be seen. And this man brought a demon to his home.

  Faustus scowled and worked the horse’s reins as he leaned across the animal’s neck. He offered his hand again. He nodded over his shoulder. “The dragons are aware of you.” He shook his head as if to say You’re a bad boy. Now look what you’ve done.

  Slowly, Daniel stood. He’d better not be on his knees if he needed to dash into the trees. And he’d rather not be on his knees if this was the moment of his end. “Where are Mama and Father? Where is Marcus?”

  A dark look flickered over the man’s face. “They’re safe.”

  “You’re lying.” Daniel knew. How, he did not understand, but he knew this man who had called him “grandson” manipulated the truth. Worked it, massaged it, molded it into what he wanted. The man on the massive steed was a better carver of the pews of the world than either Daniel or his Father.

  “Tell me, young Daniel, have you realized yet who I am?” A semi-kind smile pulled up the right side of his mouth slightly higher than the left. “Semi,” in that kindness was not the whole of the emotion expressed, and “kind,” in that Daniel did sense—at the moment—an honest attempt at helping a young person find correct knowledge.

  It seemed to Daniel that the man looking down at him wasn’t a simple teacher. He wasn’t the purveyor of facts, a person who knew all the rules and regulations of a situation, or all its weights and measures. He wasn’t the one who held the accounting.

  This man with his auburn hair and his strong, handsome features was the maker of those facts, the builder of the rules and the regulations. This man—and only this man—defined a weight and marked off a measure.

  “Where are my parents? Where is my brother?” Daniel whispered. Why could he not speak well? Faustus might be a powerful man, but he was just a man.

  Though Daniel also knew he was not “just a man.” That the weight and the measure of what it meant to be Parcae had long ago been set by the person in front of him.

  The demon standing in the threshold of his house sniffed the air and laughed. She twirled again. More sparks flew from her fingertips each time she brushed the side of the house.

  The man on the horse pressed a single finger against the skin of his forehead before flicking his hand away from his face. “Ambustae are… annoying. Don’t you agree?”

  “Ambustae?” The demon had a name?

  Faustus leaned over the stallion’s neck again. The horse sidestepped and backed away from the trees and bushes. “Come out. You are safe.”

  Safe only because he will benefit from your weight and your measure. Daniel groaned. He leaned toward the tree, his hand splayed over the bark, but he stepped out onto the dried mud. What else could he do?

  “Daniel, what you are feeling right now is called the umbra obscura.” The man spoke slowly, as if explaining to a young child how to use a knife and a spoon. “You and your brothers are less than a day from activation. Your coming abilities cast long shadows into the what-was-is-will-be. The edges of the future’s shadow are, right now, crossing the paths within your mind. You see what is ahead.” He sat up straight in his saddle. “Or, I suspect, hear it.”

  “How—”

  The man waved his hand. “The umbra obscura only happens with the most powerful Primes.” He leaned forward again, and his grin reappeared.

  Run. Daniel winced. Was this umbra obscura a demon like the stink-laden woman? Were the voices he heard evil?

  Faustus lowered his head and looked at Daniel from under hooded lids. “You are young. You have been isolated in barbaric lands your entire life, cut off from both the proper education you and your brothers deserve and the family support which men of power demand.”

  They hadn’t been isolated. They worked the land here, and helped to build the church.

  Faustus chortled. “You and your
brothers are princes. You have the intelligence and the potential to properly carry your inheritance.” He nodded once, seemingly prouder of his assessment than of Daniel’s “potential.”

  “You will take Justinian’s palace and you will stop the end of the Empire.”

  Justinian? The new emperor of the corpse of Rome? Run, flitted through Daniel’s head again.

  “A plague comes, Daniel. We have less than three years before it descends upon Constantinople. You must not be weak. The what-will-be needs measurement, grandson. It needs to be cut to the needs of the world.” Faustus offered his hand again. “Take what the future holds. Become one of the greatest future-seers the Parcae have ever birthed.”

  Daniel shuffled backward. Where were his brothers? Where was Papa? He heard no one, saw no one other than this man who called himself a tailor.

  Run! screamed in Daniel’s head.

  Faustus scowled. “Do not fight your fate, child.”

  Daniel’s foot slid backward.

  The horse snorted and tossed its head. Faustus scratched at his cheek and stared down at Daniel with obvious disappointment. “I had hoped your umbra obscura would whisper the correct route to the future. That you would comprehend what it is that I offer you and your triad mates.”

  For a split second, Daniel thought he saw wrath dance across the man’s face.

  “That you might understand the… release… I offer your family.”

  Daniel’s gut knotted. Bile wormed upward and coated the back of his throat. Would Faustus kill his family? “Where are—”

  Faustus sighed much like the disappointed grandfather he claimed to be. “Do not force my hand on this, young man. You must learn to contain your willfulness and your wants if you are to be the Prime Parcae of your destiny. You are a weapon of the what-was-is-will-be and you must hone your edge, no matter the costs.”

  Faustus’s features hardened into something as cold and motionless as the rocks of the ruins. “I need only your mother in order to activate you and your brothers. One true parent. No family or friends. No lovers. Do you understand, Daniel?”