The latter spoke again, softly.
The lions lowered their heads. Then, with a timid sound, they rose and retreated silently into the darkness.
The man blinked. His knees gave way beneath him. He was still staring after the beasts when a shadow fell across him. He looked up.
The stranger stood above him, hand held out. The man took it gratefully and was surprised by the strength of the grip that pulled him to his feet. He stumbled slightly. The stranger steadied him.
‘Thank you,’ the man mumbled.
Close up, he could see more of the stranger’s features. They were pale and beautifully refined, as if drawn by a skilled artist.
‘The word you spoke, what was it?’
The stranger regarded him for a moment, a faint smile on his lips. ‘I told them to leave.’
His voice was low and rich, liquid silver in the night.
The man glanced in the direction the lions had vanished. ‘Maybe you did not need my help after all.’
‘The outcome may have been different had you not arrived.’
The man could not help but feel the consequences would have remained in the stranger’s favor. He shook off the uncanny feeling dancing on the edges of his consciousness, picked up his torch and staff, and motioned to him. ‘Come, I have a place nearby where you can rest for the night.’
The stranger followed him up the dune and down the other side. When they reached the camp, the man took out a piece of bread and the water gourd from his sack, and offered them to his new companion.
‘Is this the last of your supplies?’
The man shrugged. ‘It is but you need not worry about that.’
The stranger shook his head and made to return the items. ‘I cannot accept your generosity. You have already done more than I could ever expect.’
The man gently pushed the gourd and the bread back into the stranger’s hands. ‘I insist. You are my guest.’ He smiled and looked around. ‘Although I wish I had a better place to entertain you in.’
The stranger observed him for a moment before accepting the food and drink. The crow jumped down on his arm and pecked at the bread.
‘He is a very docile creature,’ the man commented, watching the bird.
‘He has his moments,’ said the stranger.
The crow stopped and gave him a beady stare. The man chuckled.
The stranger looked at him quizzically.
‘I am sorry. It is just the exact expression Joanna has when I say something foolish.’
‘Joanna?’ the stranger repeated.
The man sobered. ‘Yes. My second wife.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Romerus.’
The stranger dipped his chin. ‘It is nice to make your acquaintance, Romerus. I am Ury’an.’ He indicated the crow. ‘This here is my companion Arael.’
Their names made Romerus’s skin tingle. ‘It is also nice to meet you.’ He hesitated. ‘I do not mean to pry, but why are you here? In the middle of the desert?’
‘I am a traveller,’ said Ury’an.
‘Oh.’ Romerus faltered. ‘Have you a particular destination in mind?’
Ury’an shook his head and smiled faintly again. ‘No. I am…looking for something.’
Romerus stared. ‘What is it that you search for?’
Ury’an looked at the moon briefly. His gaze, when it landed on Romerus’s face, was heated. ‘I will know when I find it.’
Romerus stroked his beard. ‘That is most cryptic.’
Ury’an grinned. ‘What about you?’ He indicated the desert around them. ‘What are you doing here?’
The question brought Romerus sharply back to the stark reality of his situation. He found himself suddenly talking, words spilling out and stumbling over each other in his eagerness to share the heavy burden he had carried for so long. He spoke of the plague and his two sons by his first wife, Zara. Of his second wife, Joanna, whose spirit was as indomitable as the wind. Of the demise of the nearby villages and the Elder’s promise that salvation lay somewhere to the east, in no man’s land.
Ury’an listened, his handsome face impassive, eyes glinting with an indefinable emotion while Romerus spoke.
‘It seems your predicament is dire indeed,’ he said in the silence that followed Romerus’s account. He glanced at the crow, who now perched on his shoulder, head buried under a wing. The bird’s feathers trembled slightly. ‘Arael agrees. We will accompany you on your travels until you find this cure you seek.’
Chapter Three
Romerus blinked, uncertain he had heard him correctly. ‘I—I do not know what to say.’
‘Then say nothing. It is the least Arael and I can do to repay the debt we owe you.’
They settled down to rest, Romerus finding sleep hard to come by after the extraordinary events of the night. When morning came, Ury’an and Arael were still there. They looked remarkably refreshed.
They set off toward the east, a companionable silence between them. And so passed another day as they ventured deeper into the desert.
When dusk fell once more, they found a small oasis and rested on cool grass, in the shade of palm trees. There were dates to eat and Arael even caught a desert rabbit. It was the first time Romerus had seen a crow hunt. The bird did it with cool efficacy and made sure to kill the creature quickly. As the moon sailed across the sky, they talked about their lives. It was only afterward that Romerus realized he did most of the talking.
On the eve of the tenth day of his journey into the desert, a shape appeared on the skyline to the east. Romerus’s heart leapt in his throat when he saw it.
‘I think that is the mountain the Elder spoke of,’ he said to Ury’an.
Ury’an studied the distant shadow, his face inscrutable.
Romerus barely slept that night, so filled with excitement was he at being close to finding a cure for his children. He prayed fervently that they would still be there when he returned.
It was another two days before they reached the mountain. By the time they stood in the shadow of its base, Romerus understood why the Elder had spoken of the place in such hushed tones.
It rose hundreds of feet above the desert, a towering, dark mass stabbing at the sky, forbidding and radiating an almost evil energy. The rocks crowding its sides were sharp and jagged, poised to slice through skin and impale flesh. It looked like the last place one would hope to find a miraculous spring.
He glanced at Ury’an, troubled.
‘There.’ Ury’an pointed. ‘I see a path.’
Romerus looked where he indicated and almost sagged with relief. Ury’an’s sharp eyes had seen what he could not. A narrow footpath snaked its way up the mountain some sixty feet to their right.
‘Can you see it?’ said Ury’an.
‘The path? Yes.’
‘No, farther up. It looks like there is an opening up there.’
Romerus’s head snapped up. He stared and soon spotted the blacker than black shadow Ury’an spoke of. His heartbeat accelerated. He took the lead and started up the path.
By the time they reached the mouth of the cave, Romerus’s hands and shins were bloodied. Though the path helped, it did not take away from the treacherous rocks that lined it and caused him to stumble and fall.
In contrast, Ury’an seemed untouched, his breathing slow and steady compared to Romerus’s pants, his clothes and skin free of tears and blood.
Romerus gave this strange fact but a passing thought as he stared into the darkness of the cave. He took a step forward and would have fallen had Ury’an not grasped his elbow.
‘Steady there. You would not want to hurt yourself when you have come this far.’
Romerus swallowed and nodded shakily. He took a deep breath and ventured slowly into the gaping maw of the mountain. Ury’an followed, Arael on his shoulder.
The light dimmed and they were engulfed in gloom. The cave finally narrowed into a tiny passage they had to squeeze through. Soon, the ceiling crowd
ed them and they found themselves crawling into even tighter spaces. Just when Romerus thought they would have to turn back, the passage started to widen.
Moments later, it ended. Romerus scrambled to his feet and stared at what lay before him.
A giant cavern some hundred feet tall and just as wide occupied what appeared to be the very center of the mountain. Arrowing down from the distant ceiling through a narrow sinkhole, a shaft of sunlight pierced the gloom and illuminated a clump of vegetation sitting in the shallow basin in the middle of the cave.
Romerus ran toward the light, his steps unsteady, his heart filled with wild hope.
It was only when he drew close that he saw the plants were brown and dead. Although the smoothness of the rock that lined the basin indicated it had once held water, there was none now. His gaze sought and found the crumbling pile of stones that should have been a spring. He sank to his knees before them, his breath catching in his throat.
Fingers trembling, Romerus reached out and touched the rocks. They were bone dry. He started moving them aside, slowly at first then with increasing desperation, fingers digging at parched dirt and stone, unheeding of the sharp edges that sliced his skin and the blood that soon colored his hands crimson.
It was only when Ury’an touched him on the shoulder that Romerus realized he was crying. He stopped then, silent sobs racking his body, his hands limp in his lap, hope all but lost.
‘I am sorry,’ said Ury’an.
Romerus looked up at the blur that was his companion’s face. He shook his head. ‘It is not your fault, my friend.’
He wiped his eyes and stared at the dead spring for a long time. Then his gaze shifted to the shaft of daylight bathing them. He rose unsteadily to his feet, turned his face to the sun, and closed his eyes.
‘What are you doing?’ said Ury’an after a short silence.
Had he been in a more stable state of mind, Romerus would have detected the change in his companion’s voice. It had become musical once more.
‘I am praying.’
‘Praying?’ Ury’an repeated. ‘To whom do you pray and why?’
Peace slowly filled Romerus’s heart as he stood enveloped by the warm light. ‘To the One who gifted this world with life. And because I have Faith.’
‘Faith?’
Though tears still pricked his eyes, Romerus allowed a smile to curve his lips. ‘Yes. I have Faith. In the One who created my forebears. The One who has given me a longer life than most. I have done all that I can. Now, I must entrust the fate of my sons to Him.’ He hesitated. ‘Whatever His choice, I will accept it.’
‘Is this truly what you believe?’
Romerus opened his eyes and stared into the shaft of light. He examined his mind and heart and found them filled with a simple truth. ‘Yes.’
Brightness filled the cave, incandescent and hot. Romerus gasped and sheltered his eyes with a bloodied hand, wondering if the sun’s path had brought it directly above them. It took but a heartbeat for him to realize that the source of the ethereal light was not the golden orb in the sky. He turned slowly. His breath froze on his lips. He fell to his knees once more.
Ury’an had shed his cloak. Instead of the clothes Romerus had become used to seeing him in, the man who had been his constant companion over the last few days had turned into a dazzling being wearing golden armor. Skin glowing where it was exposed, eyes molten silver, he was an achingly beautiful entity to behold. Only Arael remained unchanged, although Romerus could see flickers of the same unearthly radiance dancing through his black feathers. A warm breeze blew across the cavern, bringing with it the scent of spices and an oppressive pressure that drove Romerus’s body closer to the ground.
‘Rise, Romerus.’
And there it was, the voice he had heard that first night, when the lions suddenly retreated. A musical tune that echoed through his mind and body, bending his will. To disobey was unimaginable. The physical force pressing down on him abated. He found himself back on his feet.
Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the light faded and Ury’an’s appearance returned to that which Romerus had grown accustomed to. Arael clucked.
‘Yes, it was,’ Ury’an told the crow.
‘What?’ Romerus mumbled.
‘He asked whether the dramatic display was strictly necessary,’ said Ury’an.
Romerus shook his head, dazed. ‘Who—who are you?’ He envisioned the dazzling light he had seen but a moment ago. ‘Are you—a god?’
Ury’an smiled. ‘I am not a god.’
Romerus stared, pulse racing and blood thundering in his ears. ‘You are too pleasant to be a demon.’
Ury’an shrugged. ‘Demons are quite cunning creatures. But you are correct. I am no demon.’
Arael pecked Ury’an on the shoulder.
Ury’an sighed. ‘It seems my companion grows impatient with me.’
And then he spoke. Of what he was. Of the challenge he had been given. Of the promise he had made. Of the future he wanted to mold. Of the many years he had spent scouring the face of this world, searching.
Romerus listened to it all, mind abuzz, mouth dry, body shaking from shock and awe.
‘In you, I believe I have found him,’ said Ury’an finally. ‘A man worthy of His forgiveness and to whom I will lend my strength and wisdom.’
‘I—this is—’ Romerus stopped, lost for words. What could he say?
‘So I will give you what you seek.’
The hope that had died a quick death only moments past burst forth in Romerus’s heart once more.
‘I will give you a cure for your sons.’
Chapter Four
The village appeared beneath him, a cluster of clay and mud-brick houses nestled in a shallow, green valley. Romerus’s pace quickened, his stick digging into the hard ground as he made his way down the winding path carved into the side of the hill. The moos of oxen and the cries of goats reached him on the evening air. He looked up, pleased to see his livestock in the pen next to his home, on the slope of the far hill.
It was only when he drew closer to the settlement that he saw the pyres of the dead, black mounds containing what were once the bodies of those who had succumbed to the sickness. They were stacked in the shadow of a rocky overhang, next to the narrow river that coursed through the vale. Sadness filled him, for many had perished in his absence. He forged ahead, more eager now than ever to see his family.
The village was eerily quiet, doors banging open on hinges, darkness filling rooms normally lit with fires. He saw not one soul as he made his way to his home. The first tendril of fear gripped him. It intensified when he saw his own door lying open.
He shook his head, berating himself for the treacherous thought that darted through his mind. After all he had seen, he had to keep his Faith.
He found them in the farthest room of the house. An olive grove rose on the other side of the thick, clay walls, keeping sunlight at bay and the chamber cool. The wooden shutters were wide open and pale light streamed into the chamber. It was enough for him to make out the four figures sleeping on a pair of straw-filled mattresses, the women’s arms wrapped around the children.
Love filled Romerus’s heart and tears his eyes as he beheld them. Though they looked thin and exhausted, they were here. They were still alive.
He took his sack off his back and carried it carefully to the beds. Zara was the first to rouse, her brown eyes fuzzy with sleep. She blinked at him.
‘Romerus?’ she whispered. ‘Is that you?’
Joanna woke. Tears filled her eyes when she saw him. ‘You have returned!’
She lunged at him awkwardly and wrapped her arms around his neck. Zara joined her. The two women sobbed, their voices weak with relief.
‘Did you find it?’ said Zara. She pulled back and gazed at him hotly. ‘Did you find the spring?’
Romerus shook his head.
Joanna cried out before clamping a hand over her lips. She glanced at the boys. They slept on, unaware
of the goings on around them.
‘So—so it was all in vain?’ Zara said brokenly, once she could speak.
‘No,’ Romerus replied. ‘It was not.’
He spoke then of all that he had seen in the desert, of the lions and of Ury’an. Of Arael the crow and the mountain. Of the dead spring inside the cave. Of the chance he had been given after all hope was lost.
Silence fell upon the room when he finished his tale. His wives stared at him, their eyes reflecting their shock.
‘He gave you a cure?’ said Zara, hope strengthening her voice.
A troubled expression darkened Joanna’s face. ‘Are you sure, Romerus?’
Romerus hesitated.
‘How can you say that, sister?’ Zara cried. ‘After all Romerus has been through—’
‘I am sure,’ Romerus said calmly.
Joanna was quiet for some time, her hazel gaze intent, an arrow piercing his mind. He wondered whether she could see the truth he had omitted to tell them.
‘Then do it,’ she said quietly.
Romerus nodded and extracted the gourds containing the cures. There were two. One for each son.
Zara leaned forward. ‘Do they have to—?’
‘Yes, they have to drink it. It is the only way to get it into their body.’
And so Romerus gently lifted the head of his firstborn son, Crovir, and placed the first gourd to his parched lips. He parted the boy’s mouth with his thumb and tilted the vessel. From within it, a shimmering, golden mass slid down and disappeared into Crovir’s throat.
Then he lifted the head of his second born, Bastian, and repeated the process with the second gourd. The sparkling mist it held vanished inside the boy’s mouth.
‘It is done,’ he said softly, his sons’ heads resting in his lap.
A shudder ran through Crovir’s body. His brother stirred beside him. Their eyes blinked open.
As he gazed down at his children through a film of tears, Romerus recalled what Ury’an had said and done in the cave.
‘I will give you a cure for your sons. You who are descended from the very first man and woman who walked this Earth. You who are pure of heart and soul. I will give you what you seek. And in this cure will be the last chance humanity receives for redemption.’
Origins Page 2