by Levi Garcia
have worn something so plain. His fingers traced the pattern of the bull's head as he read the words etched into the wooden box. Then, looking to the fire in the corner of the room he concluded that there was only one way to find out. Taking it out, he walked to the fire and without a moment's hesitation tossed it in.
"Memento mori, memento mortis," he said. As soon as the last syllable left his lips, there was a loud crackling sound as a shape formed within the flame. It drifted upwards out of the hearth and soon towered above Cyrus. Within the fire was the shape of a man formed by a green flame. Any suspicion that Doctor Vanderburg's final words to him had been a joke were now gone.
The figure's gaze focused directly on Cyrus who stared back in disbelief. He had assumed that he had been the butt of a dying man's joke and that nothing would happen. Instead, the fiery form of a long-dead emperor now towered above him staring down with red burning eyes. Without uttering a word, he grabbed the fire iron and knocked the ring from the fire. The green flame was pulled into the ring as the fire in the hearth also extinguished itself. Gathering the ring up to place back in the box, Cyrus noticed how cold the ring was even after it had been sitting in the fire only moments before. He was left alone in the dark wondering what exactly he had done.
The following morning, Cyrus was awoken by his father's frantic voice. "Get up son. We have to move the cattle." Cyrus was confused, but he jumped out of bed to follow. "The Browns…all their cattle died last night. We think it might be a sickness from some of their new cows. We need to get ours separated so they don't get it too."
The Brown family farm was adjacent to Cyrus' family's farm. Being on good terms with them, they shared common grazing areas depending on the season. Sorting through the dead cattle, it was found that the only ones that had died were those that had the Brown family's brand. Because of this, they spent the full day removing all the animals from the shared space and keeping watch on the other farm animals for signs of sickness.
In the back of his mind, Cyrus wondered if his conjuring of Augustus Caesar had anything to do with the cattle dying. Why kill their neighbor's cattle though? He was unable to think of a reason so he tried his best to make himself believe it was just a common sickness that spread from an infected animal. It wasn't unheard of for that to happen as he remembered just last year that there was another family that had lost half their heard after unwittingly purchasing some sick cows at an auction.
Towards the evening, no others were showing any signs of sickness, so it seemed like their animals were going to be spared. However, Cyrus still had a burning fear in his mind that he was the cause of this.
Cyrus decided that he needed to call up the fiery figure of Augustus Caesar again. No words were exchanged previously, but he felt guilty enough that he was going to have to brave speaking with the figure again if it meant that misfortune wouldn't befall others. He went out to a clearing behind the house, collected some logs from the shed, and started a fire. This time, he figured that he would need some tools. He collected an ax, the fire poker, and pumped a bucket of water from the well. Taking the ring from out of the box, he dropped it into the fire and spoke the words, "Memento mori, memento mortis."
Just like the night before, the fire twitched and crackled and the fiery figure took shape within the flames. The same stern face framed with an olive branch looked down upon him as the question caught in his throat. "Did…did you kill the Brown's cattle?"
There was no audible response. Instead, the fiery figure extended an arm and pointed at Cyrus. It then turned over its hand so the palm faced up, and motioned to the left and right. Cyrus looked towards where his motioning was directing him, but no one was there. "I don't know what you mean. Did you kill the Brown's animals? They need those to live. They can't survive without food or the money they would get from raising them." Still, the figure remained silent. Only now, it closed its eyes and put its head down. He repeated his question, but Caesar only continued to stand quietly with no notice of him. He grabbed the ax and swung it through the fiery form. It passed through the flame while Caesar took no additional notice of him. Even after trying to strike the form for a reaction, it seemed to Cyrus that he would not get any answers from the great Augustus Caesar. He took the bucket of water and poured it over the fire. The figure again retreated into the ring and the remaining fire when out. He reached down to pick it up and, once again, found that it was cool to the touch.
The following morning, Cyrus awoke to the sound of sobbing. He found his mother and father weeping at the dinner table. His father spoke when he saw him, "The Browns…I went to check on them this morning and found them all lying in their beds…dead. It didn't look like someone killed them or even that there was any kind of struggle. They were all just lying in their beds. They looked so peaceful. All the rest of their animals were also dead. Just like the cattle." He wiped the tears from his face and stood. "I'm going into town now to let the sheriff know. Stay here, and don't leave the house while I'm gone."
Was this also Augustus Caesar's doing? Did Cyrus anger him by calling him back again? No, it didn't seem that way. Would he have acted upon him instead of their neighbors if that was the case? The face Cyrus saw in the fire looked stern, but also seemed without any hint of anger. What was he motioning to the night before? The land around him? Was this Caesar the Conqueror's way of telling him that everything around them was now his? None of this was natural. All of this could only be Caesar's doing. It was Cyrus' foolishness that caused all this so he knew that he was going to have to confront him once more.
There were a lot of visitors to the farm that day. Other neighbors and people from town wanted to offer condolences to the Browns, but were too afraid of going to their house out of fear of becoming sick while some just prodded for any bit of gossip. The visitors remained throughout the day, so Cyrus had to wait until late in the evening before he was alone. Once again, he went out to the clearing behind the house and set up a fire. However, this time, he found a sledgehammer that his father used to put up fence posts. It seemed that if Caesar was doing this, he could do it even if he wasn't conjured up from the fire. Cyrus was unsure if anything else would happen even if he didn't call him up again, but he wanted to make sure that he communicated that he should no longer continue with his actions. Cyrus' only recourse was to destroy the ring if Caesar wasn't going to stop on his own.
Once again, he dropped the ring into the fire and spoke the words. The figure appeared before him for, hopefully, the last time. Its arms spread outward once again motioning to everything around it while a smile now hung ominously on its face. Cyrus yelled, "Stop this! Stop killing people. You can't keep doing this."
This time, Caesar reacted. The smile dropped. A sneer formed and his eyebrows furrowed. It was obvious that he was showing disdain for the ingratitude of the gift of power that was being rejected. For the first time, Caesar spoke in a deep booming voice. It was so deep that Cyrus thought he felt the ground tremble slightly. Unfortunately, he was unable to decipher what was being said as it was a language he did not understand.
"If you're doing this, you need to stop," Cyrus pleaded.
Caesar's eyes met Cyrus' as it let out a shriek. If Caesar had previously seemed content and still killed then having been angered would no doubt cause much more trouble. He picked up the sledgehammer and hefted it over his head and let the full weight fall squarely on the ring that still sat in the fire. The fiery figure of Caesar let out another shriek. He hefting the sledgehammer over his head and let it fall again. On the second strike, there was another shriek and a burst of light flashed from the ring along with a force that pushed Cyrus backwards off of his feet. Cyrus could see the figure slowly losing its form and collapsing into the fire. He got to his feet and grabbed the sledgehammer to take one final swing on the ring. No more shrieks issued forth. After dumping the bucket of water over it, he reached for the ring, but immediately dropped it back into the soaked ashes. Unlike the previous nights, the ring was now searing hot. Although,
even with the strikes from the sledgehammer, it did not look like he had done any damage to it. Had he succeeded in stopping Caesar? Cyrus managed to scrape the ring back into the box, dug a hole in a pasture near a sycamore tree and placed the box inside.
Cyrus awoke the following morning expecting to hear more bad news, but there was nothing. Only after a few weeks went by without any sinister events did Cyrus finally begin to relax.
Since that night, Cyrus had avoided going back to the part of the pasture where he buried the box. It wasn't until about a year later that he was with his father as they moved some cattle. It was his father that noticed the sycamore first. "We used to have picnics with my grandfather here when I was little. It's a shame that it looks dead now." It was true. While the sycamore had seemed to grow to twice the size as Cyrus had remembered it being, the bark was now falling off and the few leaves that remained had taken on a deep blackish hue. As they approached, he could also see that all the grass around where he buried the box had died. "Let's stay clear of this spot and move the cattle to the other end of the pasture. We can fence this off