by Sandi Rog
“Oh, David.” Alethea hugged his leg. “What have I done? I don’t want to die. I’m not ready to die.”
David rubbed his hand down her arm.
“But I know I could never do what Manius did.” She rested her cheek on his knee, the only warmth and comfort in the dingy cell. “What will become of Elianna?” Tears filled her eyes. “Our poor Elianna.”
David hugged Alethea close. “God will take care of her. I asked Him to.”
Alethea nestled into David. “Will you ask Him while I listen? Not that I don’t believe you. I just want to ask Him over and over again.”
“Elohim,” David whispered into the darkness, his voice choking. “Please take our precious Elianna under your wings. Please keep her and Galen safe. Take care of her for us, Lord. Please take….” David’s chest shook against Alethea, and that’s when she realized he was crying.
“Please take good care of her for us,” Alethea whispered. “Father, if we must die, then You have to take care of our little girl. You have to be her parent. You must!” Anger spread through her. “Please don’t let this happen to our family again. Isn’t it enough that David’s parents had to die? Why must Elianna suffer the same?” Alethea curled up against David, clinging to his tunic, and wept.
David ran his fingers through her hair, the only sounds around them of distant cell doors slamming and voices of guards. “I think it might help if you sang to us.”
“I don’t feel like singing.” She moved in closer to him.
“It’ll make us feel a little better if you do.”
“I can’t, David. I just can’t.”
He continued to play with her curls. “We’re going to meet Yahshua tomorrow. I’ll finally get to introduce you to my parents. Let’s think of those things.” He took a deep shuddering breath. “Trust that He will answer our prayers for Elianna.”
“What about Alexander?” Alethea straightened, looking up into his shadowed face. “No one knows Elianna was given to him.” How she wanted to kick herself for refusing to let David tell anyone about their betrothal. She was just so afraid of Elianna feeling trapped like she’d felt when she was betrothed to Demetri. And now, with no one knowing, who would tell her? Galen would care for her, but he wouldn’t know to give her to Alexander when the time was right. She groaned inside.
“Alexander knows. That is enough.” David’s calm and sure voice comforted her.
The door to the cell creaked open, sending shards of light across the dirty floor. Two men stumbled inside, and the door slammed shut.
David tensed, and so did Alethea.
The men stood in the darkness, apparently waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dark. One of them found the wall and slumped against it, moaning.
David’s arms tightened around her.
“I see a shadow,” the man who was standing said. “We’re not alone.”
“What are you in for?” the man sitting against the wall asked.
Silence.
“For being Christians,” Alethea whispered.
David covered her mouth and whispered into her ear, “Don’t talk.” But it was too late.
“Hmm. A woman.” The man standing moved about the small cell. “Milon, perhaps we’ll be able to enjoy a bit of pleasure before our final hour.”
“No, you won’t,” David said, his voice a growl.
“She has a protector.” The man shifted his stance, facing them directly.
“Zoticus, we’re gonna die. Shut up.”
“Why? There’s two of us and only one of him.” Zoticus’s shadow bent toward his friend. “Come on. What have we got to lose?”
David shot to his feet, and Alethea scampered against the hard wall where he had been, the stones still warm from where he sat. As two shadows fell into the light coming from the high, barred window in the door, she saw David grabbing Zoticus by the throat and shoving him against the wall. “Touch her and die,” David said, his voice menacing.
The other man, Milon, came to his feet. He punched David in the side and a scuffle ensued.
Alethea froze in terror. What if David couldn’t win? There were two of them. How would he fight them off”? Unable to see all the movements, she prayed as the sounds of shuffling, fists pounding flesh, and grunts echoed in the small chamber.
“Hey!” The door came open and a guard filled its entrance, his shadow lancing over the lit floor. “What’s going on in here?”
As the light came into the chamber, Alethea could see one man on the ground with David’s foot holding him down. The other crouched against the wall, holding his stomach. David turned and kicked his heel into the man’s face, knocking him out.
“Interesting,” the guard said. “At least keep them alive for the games tomorrow. I’d hate to disappoint Caesar with the executions.”
“Take them to another cell,” David demanded.
The guard chuckled. “How about I take you to another cell?”
Alethea gasped. The guard paused in the doorway. “Oh, I see what the trouble is.” The door closed, and Alethea sighed in relief. David crouched near her. But it wasn’t long before voices could be heard outside the chamber, several male voices, and the door came open again.
“He took two of them down without breaking a sweat,” the familiar guard’s voice said. “I think he might do well as a gladiator, and if he doesn’t, he’ll get the execution he deserves.
That meant they’d take David away from her. No!
“I’m not leaving,” David said.
“Ahh, a stubborn one,” another guard said. “I like it. He fits the mold all right.” He turned toward the door. “Get more men. This one won’t go down easy.”
“No!” David jumped to his feet, but instead of going after the guards, he went after the man who was huddled against the wall. He punched him and punched him again until he passed out. Then he stood, facing the door, ready to take on the guards.
Alethea shook her head. She knew why he attacked the man. David knocked him out because she would be left alone in this cell with these men. Lord, please. Please don’t let this happen.
“Alethea.” David’s voice echoed in the room, his chest catching the light as it heaved, and his gaze locked on the open door. “You’re going to see Yahshua. Remember that. Focus on that.” Another breath. “Do you hear me?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Dwell on it, count on it, depend on it! You will see Yahshua soon!” Several guards came to the door; David clipped one across the jaw. He elbowed another and side-kicked one in the groin. The guard dropped to the ground, holding himself. David panted, fists clenched and muscles flexing. Alethea had never seen him look so fierce as the light from the torch revealed the rage on his hard face. Not even when he was angry with Aulus.
“Get more men!” a guard called. “We need more!”
Alethea crouched closer to the wall, afraid she might get swept into the scuffle, as David tackled each new guard that entered the chamber. He slammed one against the wall, side-kicked another, body-slammed a third. Alethea counted twelve guards in the chamber to subdue him, and one stepped on her foot, crushing her toes with his heel. She cried out. They forced David on the ground, shoving his head against the harsh stones. The light from the door lit up his face as he looked at her.
“Remember Yahshua,” he said, his voice choking on a fierce whisper. “No matter what happens.”
“I’ll remember,” she said, more to reassure him than herself.
“Sing, Aucella.” His voice was severe, almost angry.
The men picked David up, holding his arms and legs, while two others pummeled him with their fists in his face and gut. When that didn’t bring him down, one guard stepped forward with a club. He thrust it into David’s stomach and he buckled.
Out of breath, one of the guards wiped his brow with his forearm. “He’ll make a good one all right.”
Grunting and complaining, they hauled him to the door as he still fought their grasp, two men on each
leg and each arm.
“Sing, Aucella.” David’s broken voice carried into the cell as they dragged him from the chamber. “Sing!” His plea echoed to her from down the narrow hall in the distance, then a scuffle and silence. The guards laughed.
Two of the guards left in the cell dragged themselves from off the ground and stumbled to the door. One of the cellmates groaned as he roused from unconsciousness. The last guard stopped. He glanced down at Alethea then at the man pushing himself up to stand. The guard turned on the man and struck him, knocking him out. “I won’t be here when they wake up.” He trudged from the chamber, and the door slammed shut, leaving a wake of dust and emptiness floating on the air between her and the unconscious men.
Alethea crouched deeper in the corner, hugging her knees. Cold and alone with the two inmates who lay motionless on the other side of the cell.
David had told her to sing and he’d called her Little Bird. He hadn’t called her that since their days at the villa. She swallowed hard as she watched the lifeless shadows. Perhaps if they awoke, she could soothe them with her beautiful voice? But she wasn’t able to fool herself into believing that would work. She used to sing as a child when she was frightened. She was able to sing when she faced the enemy, her grandfather. But she couldn’t do it now.
“Lord, help me. Save me,” she whispered, trembling so much her head knocked against the wall behind her.
Do you want to live forever? Those were David’s words, back at the villa, during one of their secret meetings in the woods. But to live forever, she must die. And that, she did. She’d died to herself. And now, she would die again.
Sing, Aucella. David’s voice echoed in her mind. Remember Yahshua!
Alethea opened her mouth. Her throat was so closed, only a whisper of air made it past her lips. But that didn’t matter. She didn’t want to wake the men. So, she kept her voice low, blending the song in with her heavy breathing. If only she could hold her breath. Maybe the men would think the guards took her away too. Still, she kept singing, her whispered words just loud enough for her to hear. Somehow saying the words brought her comfort, made her less afraid. She sang, bringing to mind every song she knew, the songs she used to sing at her grandfather’s villa when she was scared. The songs of the church, the songs that made her feel safe. The songs that made her think of Jesus. Just saying His name out loud gave her comfort, helped her to focus, urged her to be strong.
She’d see Him soon. Yes. Soon. She tried not to think of what would happen until then as she let her quiet song dance in her head.
One of the men moaned and stirred.
Ω
Light pierced her eyes and shouts from the crowd were deafening as Alethea stumbled into the sandy arena. Her body bruised and bloodied, she held onto her torn stola as she raised her hand to block the bright sun. She’d prayed for death last night, but it never came, so she not only had to suffer at the fangs of the men, but now the lions.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, she turned in the large arena, looking up at the shrieking crowd, people screaming at her, shouting curses. Their harsh voices scalded her like fire, taking the breath from her lungs.
Zoticus and Milon sauntered out into the arena, waving at the crowds as if they were proud of what they’d done to her all night long. She stopped and allowed them to walk ahead of her, hoping they would now leave her alone, leave her to the lions.
Alethea hugged herself and began to sing, only a whisper between her lips.
Doors shot open from the ground of the arena, and lions hastened out, some with bushy manes, some without, their ribs visible beneath their tan hides. Milon, who’d swaggered out into the arena, stopped as a lion stalked him. A giant paw swiped, and Milon ran. But he wasn’t fast enough and the lion swept his legs out from under him as if playing with a mouse. Milon stumbled and hit the ground hard. He tried to scurry away, but the lion pounced, pinning him.
Alethea turned and spotted several more lions. How many, she couldn’t tell. One of them slammed her onto her stomach. She pushed up, but the weight was too great, making it impossible to breathe. The animal’s jaws tore into her shoulder, and she cried out in agony, a cry that didn’t sound like her as her voice pierced through her throat. Another lion joined the animal that lay on her and gnawed on her legs.
Her cheek pressed into the sand as she clung to the soft pebbles, digging deeper into the blood—her blood—until she lost all feeling in her limbs. The pain fell away, as did her body, like slipping out of a sheer stola.
The lions rolled her and she pounded at them with her fists, but she batted air. Or what felt like air. The lions still hovered over her, mauling her, but she no longer felt their ripping and tearing.
Again, she pushed them away, but her hands went right through them. Instead of solid creatures with fur and sharp teeth, they were like mist, like dust, but their forms still held together. One of the lions lifted her body and dragged her away, fighting with the other for her flesh, but her solid form remained where she was. She turned to see the lions hovering over her corpse now made of mist. They gnawed on other parts of her lifeless form that were no longer a part of her, her real self. She had left her body and was now two beings. How could that be?
Scooting back on her haunches, she looked down at herself, at her hands, her legs. No slashes. No blood. No pain. And solid. A solid form. Real. Not misty like her fleshly self. The lions and her original body were like steam billowing from a pot of boiling water, as if a small wind could blow them away, but they didn’t blow away. Something held them together.
Strengthened, she got to her feet and ran, ran as far away from the lions as she could. She should be out of breath, but she wasn’t. And that’s when she realized, she didn’t need to breathe. In fact, she wasn’t breathing at all and didn’t feel any urge to gasp for air. Feeling invincible, she believed she could run miles around the arena and not grow weary.
None of the lions came after her as they attacked the two wicked men. Milon and Zoticus crawled out of their skins, leaving their misty forms behind. They looked around as if lost, at their old selves, and then at their new selves, their arms, their legs. Alethea moved away from them, hoping they wouldn’t see her, but she tripped over something.
A dark hand reached out of the ground, clinging to the sand beneath her. Screaming, she scrambled away.
Zoticus spotted her then nudged his friend and pointed in her direction. They said something to each other, turned, and stalked toward her.
The hand reached higher from beneath the sand, a black arm stretching up with glowing red streaks breaking through the skin. It pushed against the earth and a dark angel crawled out of the ground. Black wings sagged behind him, one of them broken and dragging behind his feet. Two more wings hung from his lower back, one spread out over the arena, its dark ugly shape bringing to mind bat’s wings. The ground beneath her trembled as the dark angel straightened to at least nine feet and towered over the two men, his garment draped around him like a ribbon, once meant to be light, now a weighty black, heavy satin.
Milon and Zoticus stopped and gaped, looking up at the giant who was once a seraph, now a demon. Trembling, Zoticus pointed to Alethea, as if to say, “What about her?”
The giant turned to face her and Zoticus ran in the opposite direction. Another set of smaller wings hung against his wide chest, and his dark glassy eyes rimmed with red raked her up and down. Then the onyx orbs of death widened.
Alethea sat on her haunches, frozen, unable to move.
“Daughter of the Most High!” he shouted over his shoulder in a thunderous growl that sounded more like a warning to others than a threat to her.
If Alethea were in her fleshly form, she knew the sight of this creature would have turned her to ash from sheer terror, but instead, all she could do was stare, gape with amazement at the terrifying creature.
Ground trembling, he faced the men. “Your service wasn’t good enough to break her! Pray to Satan your deeds win her mate’s
soul.” The giant standing before Alethea turned and started to take a step toward her, but he hesitated and gestured for her to move. A long, flowing whip slithered along the sand, and he pulled back, preparing to swing.
Alethea found movement and ran to the other side of the arena, putting as much distance as possible between her and the dark angel of wrath.
The harsh swing of the giant’s arm came down in severe strokes, lashing Zoticus and Milon. The men cried out in agony, howling and screaming in torturous pain. The black angel ensnared them in his whip and dragged them along as he crawled back into the ground. The men flailed, screaming and trying to hold on to the sand, but the massive whip tugged them down, and smoke spit up from the earth as they retreated.
Alethea flattened herself against the wall of the arena, only to find herself falling through it. It too was like mist. She pulled away and faced it. She reached for it, and her hand passed right through the stone. The onslaught didn’t disturb its shape. It still remained whole. She looked up into the audience. The shouting, jeering people had eternal, solid forms.
“I wanted that one,” a voice said. “She was supposed to sing for us.”
Alethea found herself surrounded by three men. Two flanked on either side of her, standing as if on guard, her protectors. And she knew their names! The one on the right was Hamael. The one on the left, Mihael. Angels. The other man paced at a distance before them, and he was one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen, so handsome in appearance. So alluring. She had to keep herself from walking toward him. She knew his name as well, but she didn’t dare think it. She realized, he was the one talking.
“She was supposed to turn away from Him!” He faced her, and Alethea stepped back from his cutting gaze, so deep and grotesque with hate and wrath. How could someone so attractive suddenly appear so ugly? It wasn’t his face that changed, but something beneath the surface, beneath his flesh, if indeed, it was flesh. He clenched a fist and shook it at her. “They were supposed to break you!”