His servants gratefully and quickly scampered away, and Asdrubal eased back into his throne, allowing himself to sink into the trance. As he faded, he heard the dragon roaring it also felt the presence of the guardian of light. Asdrubal’s last thought before slipping into unconsciousness was, The dragon is getting stronger.
****
Regulus almost lost consciousness before the choking sensation stopped. The cold hands gripping his neck were beaten back and replaced by warmth. Regulus thought he had seen a figure, clothed in light, attack the ghost that had assaulted him. He even thought he had heard a voice but couldn’t be sure. As he struggled to breathe, he felt the surprise of Miriam’s hands on his shoulder. He had not heard her come in. He also felt the hands of Nachum gather him up and gently place him back in his cot.
“Can’t leave you alone for a minute,” Nachum scolded quietly. “What happened, did you have another bad dream?”
“Attacked...” Regulus choked out. “Thought it was a dream at first, but he was in the room,” his voice gradually clearing up.
“Who was in the room?” Miriam asked, visibly shaken.
“I am not sure. I don’t think it was human.”
“What?” Nachum blurted.
****
As Miriam listened to Regulus, she realized what had happened.
“He was attacked by Asdrubal, the high priest,” Miriam interrupted. “I have heard that dark ones can project their spirit out of their bodies and attack others. I did not know Asdrubal had gained so much power and mastered the art. I think the sacrifices may have done more than conjure the dragon. I think they empowered the priest. This is getting complicated.”
“You think?” Nachum replied grimly. Then he motioned for Regulus’ guard who had discovered the legate on the floor gasping for breath and called for him. “Go get Han Xing,” Nachum ordered. “Maybe he knows something about dealing with this kind of thing.”
A few minutes later Han Xing tore into the tent. “What happened?” he demanded.
“Apparently, we, or maybe just I, have a new enemy. I believe I was attacked and almost strangled by a disembodied spirit,” Regulus replied, calmly looking at him like he was inviting him to dinner.
“Tell me more,” Han Xing answered like that kind of thing happened all the time.
Regulus relayed the event, then said, “I haven’t told anyone about my dreams last night, but I think these things are related.”
“What dreams?” Han Xing asked. “I thought you slept peacefully, thanks to the woman.” He nodded in Miriam’s direction.
“They weren’t bad dreams. More like a visitation. But since my last guest wasn’t as gracious as the first, I probably ought to tell you about the old man who introduced himself last night. He said his name was Eliasz.”
Miriam jerked her head up, and Nachum’s eyes grew big. She had moved back from the conversation and was wondering if she should quietly remove herself from the tent when she heard Regulus mention Eliasz.
“Eliasz? Are you sure you heard that right, sir?” she asked abruptly, before realizing who she was with and immediately regretting opening her mouth.
“Do you know Eliasz?” Regulus asked, surprised.
“I...I …I am not sure,” she stuttered. “Any other time I would not mention this, but... we are fighting a dragon, and dealing with child sacrifice, and a demon just attacked you. So why should I be surprised Eliasz would show up?”
“So, who is he?” Han Xing asked, noting Nachum’s reaction to the mention of the name and Miriam’s outburst.
“It can’t be,” Nachum whispered softly in Hebrew.
“Who else could it be?” Miriam answered in the same language. “It’s his old enemy. They are engaged in eternal struggle. Why should we not expect Elijah to respond? The dragon has come forth.”
“And the Lion of Judah has met him,” Nachum responded intently.
Regulus cleared his throat. Looking at both Nachum and Miriam impatiently.
Nachum answered, “Sorry, sir. I am having a hard time believing any of this, and now it’s even more complicated. Miriam thinks the old man who met with you was our greatest prophet, known as Elijah in our language. He was a powerful champion who fought the priest and false prophets of Baal, one of the Carthaginian’s false gods, whose consort was the goddess of the Carthaginians, Tanit. Leviathan the dragon was the sword of Baal.”
Han Xing shook his head and swore softly. “What have we gotten into?”
Regulus cursed under his breath as well, “Damn.”
“So, general, you want to tell us more about your meeting with Elijah?” Han Xing pressed.
Miriam stood up to excuse herself. She was in over her head and wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, leaving them to their troubles, but Regulus stopped her. “Wait, where do you think you are going?”
“Well, I didn’t think you would need me here. Nachum knows the stories of Elijah as well as I do. And I am just a slave. I thought better for me to leave ...” she said, flustered.
“You are staying put, madam. You are a great help to me,” he said, then added, “to all of us. Even the men are starting to think the world of you. I heard numerous comments today about your singing and healing ways. So stay. We are going to need you.”
“Very well,” she said and sat back down.
“And by the way, who told you that you were a slave?” Regulus continued.
She looked at him, puzzled.
“You are in a Roman army camp, and you have served it well and given of yourself to people you didn’t even know. Whatever you were before, you are no longer. You are now a medico on special assignment to me as my personal physician under Nachum’s supervision.
Less imperially, he continued, “And besides, I’ve had the best night’s sleep in years. So young woman, sit down and listen closely. If you have anything to add, please do so. Is everybody good with that?” He looked at Han Xing and at Nachum, daring them to challenge him.
Nachum looked at Han Xing, who half-smiled and then looked back at Regulus. “We’re good, general, now please tell us everything you can remember about the meeting with Elijah.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The battle with the Roman fleet bloodied the dragon so much the priest barely managed to subdue him. After landing the dragon, he moved him back into the arena and let him snack on the occupants of the priest’s dungeon. Asdrubal wondered if he would run out of prisoners to keep the dragon happy but was reminded by one of his associates there were many homeless and elderly people starving due to the siege, and should a few of those disappear, no one would notice or care.
Once the dragon had been seen to, Asdrubal focused his attention elsewhere, and the dragon was left to himself. As before, the more Asdrubal possessed the dragon, the more intelligence the dragon developed. It was incremental, but the dragon was evolving. When it had first been conjured, it had the intelligence of a big lizard, but with the consistent exposure to Asdrubal’s demonic presence, the dragon’s reasoning ability was growing. It now had the intelligence of a dog, and this “dog” was angry and developing a real distaste for the Roman’s ballistae.
It had been blinded and pierced and hammered and was beginning to fear the tiny things who fought back. The dragon thought of the Romans as a nest of bees or wasps and was less and less inclined to torment them. But its real hostility was toward the one who controlled it and forced it to confront the things that stung and bit it. The dragon didn’t realize it, but it was learning to hate.
****
“So now what?” Regulus asked, worn out from describing his dream encounter with Eliasz. Han Xing had grilled him again and again, looking at the encounter from as many ways as he could. Every detail Regulus could drag up was analyzed, and in the end, they realized if they were to learn any more, he was going to have to dream again.
Regulus wasn’t even sure the initial dream was real. Nor could he guarantee he would encounter Eliasz again in another dream
. When he mentioned that, Miriam responded, “But didn’t you say Eliasz said he would meet you again?”
“All I remember him saying is that was enough for one nap. And then I woke up staring at the tent ceiling.”
“Well, we won’t know till you try, will we?” she answered matter-of-factly.
“And if I were you,” Han Xing added, “I would do exactly what I did that brought on the dream in the first place. Have Miriam fix you the honey potion and sing to you. In that relaxed state of mind, you will hopefully be receptive to the prophet.”
“Are you believing in this, Han Xing?” Regulus asked, uncertain.
“What other choice do I have, general? We are battling in an arena where normal rules don’t apply. In China we had similar situations come about in the emperor’s court. There was always some witch or warlock casting spells and conjuring up dark spirits. This is different in many ways but also familiar. Like a lion in North Africa is similar to a tiger in India or a panther in southern China. They all growl, roar, have sharp claws, and want to eat you. And they can all be killed, or captured, or cast down such as the case may be. And I don’t want to spoil your evening but...”
Regulus harrumphed, “Oh, go ahead, dear friend, spoil away. What else is on your mind?”
“Well, since the attacks of the dragon, and now this disembodied spirit, we have not paid much attention to the fact Carthage also has an army behind her walls. It occurred to me in my own nightmares what would happen if the dragon and Carthaginians coordinated an attack? What if we got hit from the air with a fire-breathing dragon and from the ground with their army? Chances are they will eventually use them in a coordinated fashion, assuming, that is, that they control the beast.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Miriam joined. “Haven’t you already determined Asdrubal controls the dragon like he did the soldiers that ambushed? I mean he would have to, wouldn’t he?”
Hans and Regulus thought for a moment. Regulus realized Miriam had just used the word “us” instead of you, filed the thought away, and answered the question. “I think it is safe to assume in some fashion and to some degree, which we don’t know, the dragon is being controlled by the priest.”
Han Xing began to think out loud, “Then wouldn’t the dragon be limited by the priest’s knowledge of battle tactics? He is a priest, not a general. He is not prone to listening to his generals, which is a good thing for you. So, he might not consider using the dragon in a coordinated effort with his army, or he might not be able to control the dragon to the extent he would need to keep it from attacking his own army, should he choose to field it against us. I mean, what would keep the dragon from attacking Carthage’s troops? How would it know the difference? It is a wild beast, not a tame one. But I may be totally wrong.”
“I appreciate the insight you experienced commanders have,” Nachum added, frustrated, “but that doesn’t help us know what to do next.”
“Oh, but it does,” Regulus countered. “We know exactly what we are going to do. I am going to try to dream. Han is going to question his spies. Miriam is going to sing. And you are going to mix me a concoction like you did last time. And as soon as we finish all those tasks, I am going to work with Han Xing on how a dragon would be best used with a combined force of infantry and how best to stop that use. And your other assignment: both you and Miriam are going to pray, and then we are going to do whatever else we can, hoping the priest is too arrogant to listen to his generals who have probably done nothing else but consider how a combined force of arms with their dragon might devastate us.”
As Hans Xing and Nachum left, Miriam looked at Regulus. “Well sir, do you want me to sing first or mix the concoction or what?” She looked at Regulus and frowned. “General, have you been exercising your face muscle like I suggested?”
Regulus paused, tried to find a way out of answering, sighed, and then settled for the truth. Except he didn’t answer quickly enough.
“Well? Sir?” She repeated, hands on her hip, foot tapping the floor, eyebrows raised.
“Oh, ah, no, Miriam, I haven’t. I tried the day after, and my face was so sore. I just got busy and didn’t do it.
“General Regulus, I don’t mean to nag.”
“Oh, go ahead, Miriam. That’s what physicians and wives do.” And then he felt awkward and said, “I mean, well, you know.”
Miriam smiled shyly as his remark lit softly in her heart. “Yes sir, but since I am neither, I have to pretend and be respectful. But thank you for permission. I will try to not take advantage. Now, as I was saying, weren’t you listening? I told you to wait a day between treatments. Your face muscle needs time to heal. It’s been, what, two days now since I last massaged your face? Would you like for me to do it again?”
Regulus cringed when Miriam asked him and thought, Hell no, not in this lifetime. Does a pig like to be butchered? Why don’t you just cut my head off so it wouldn’t hurt as much? But answered, “Yes, I suppose so.”
Yeah right. I bet you do, Miriam thought.
Regulus turned toward her. He had been half-lying on some pillows but got up and moved toward the curule stool in the middle of the room, pulled it out from behind his small desk, and sat in it facing Miriam. The first time she massaged his wounded cheek, he was lying on the cot, and she knelt down beside him. This time he sat and faced her.
As Miriam moved to put her hands on his face, she realized that her location put her in an uncomfortably intimate position. Neither moved at first, then both quickly moved at the same time. The awkwardness of the moment struck Regulus as funny, and his shoulders started to shake as he tried to hold back his laughter. That only made things worse. His laughter caused her to snickered as she moved behind him. Their dignity would have survived had Regulus not paused too long to think and then snort through his nose. That’s when Miriam lost it. Regulus tried futilely to hold back, tears streaming down his face, but it only made his cheeks hurt more.
“Oh-oh-oh...” Regulus groaned as he fought to breathe, one minute groaning, the next laughing, then groaning again.
Miriam crumpled behind the chair, doubled over. “I’m so sorry sir, so-o-o… sorry. I know it hurts,” she laughed. “I’m sorry,” she giggled. Finally, both of them panting, Miriam fanning her flushed face, Regulus holding his aching face, they giggled to a reluctant stop. Miriam looked at the Roman general and sighed, “I needed that.”
“Me too, Miriam. Me too,” Regulus replied and then cringed as her strong hands began to knead his wounded face.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Asdrubal awoke sluggishly from his healing trance. The scented smoke from the opium-laced incense lay like a sick fog along the floor of his quarters. The dim gloom of his lamps cast a reddish tint.
His servants trembled as they entered his quarters. Often, they would sense something else in the room with the priest. Occasionally, they even heard the rustling movements of something large that seemed to slither across the floor. More than one servant had entered that room to never come out, especially since the sacrifice.
The current servants visibly quivered as they served the priest. The priest was angry, hungry, and in one of his worst moods. He had failed in his attack on the Roman general and had actually been wounded by the spirit-soldier guarding the Roman. His corporeal body bled from the guardian’s spear, and to add insult to injury, the dragon was growing stronger every time Asdrubal used it.
Whatever he had to do now could not be a half measure. If he was going to break the siege on Carthage, he had to attack the Romans with every weapon at his disposal. That meant the dragon, his own projected essence, and the Carthaginian army. As he considered this, another idea crossed his mind. If Carthage were defeated, the civilians would either be executed or sold into slavery, and if that were the case, then why not all out war? Arm the civilian population and use them? Their survival rate wouldn’t be great, but if Carthage lost, it would be even less. They had to break the siege, and with the Roman general reeling from Asdruba
l’s recent attack, it needed to be soon. Asdrubal rang the deep-toned bell beside his throne and called for his servant. It was time to talk to his army commanders.
The commanders soon gathered and viewed Asdrubal suspiciously, hiding behind faces of granite. These men were hardened soldiers; they had fought Rome to a standstill on many occasions and now, backed into a corner, they had become unlikely bedfellows of the evil creature who faced them, the very high priest who had ordered their grandchildren and soldiers’ children into the furnace of Baal. They hated Asdrubal but were pragmatic enough to concede that his scheme seemed to work. The Romans had retreated. The dragon was beating them back. Carthage was still surrounded and held at bay by the Roman dogs, but the priest had bought the city time. A stay of execution, if you will, and they were willing to listen to him. Their emotions were mixed in an awful array of hatred, fear, and grudging respect for the priest. Their spies had told them Asdrubal had changed. This was the first time they had met with him since the sacrifice that had conjured the dragon.
Asdrubal the Dark, as he now fancied himself, the new and improved version, observed his generals. He could not read their minds or penetrate the emotional shields they had carefully sculpted into what was left of their souls. He didn’t care what they thought of him. Only that they obeyed. They could even improve or add to the plans he had crafted. He was schemer enough to know that subordinates would take ownership of plans they helped create. Asdrubal was quite willing to give them credit so long as it promoted his own agenda. The three generals were Sappho, Himlico, and Baal Esker.
Asdrubal addressed the generals, “I gathered you here to help me develop my plan for breaking the Roman siege. You might have noticed that I have a living weapon at my disposal. I can control it and impose my will upon it. It will do as I please. It has feasted on the flesh of both Romans and Carthaginians, and at the moment prefers Romans.”
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