Shadow of Hope

by Elsye Harwood

  “Of course he’s changed,” Shelpa retorted. “It’s his wild time. We all change.” She moved her hand over his chest and leant into him. “I’m going to bed. Will you join me?”

  Cimon grinned, about to accept her offer, but Cyrus spoke first.

  “I need to talk to him, Shelpa. You’ve had him to yourself long enough. I’ll send him to you when I’ve finished. Let the rest of us have a chance.”

  Shelpa pouted at her maker, then peered up at Cimon who looked questioningly at her. She sighed. “I suppose. But don’t be long. I don’t like sleeping alone.” She gracefully turned and walked away, knowing that both of them were watching her.

  Cyrus poured a second cup of watered-down wine and offered it to Cimon. “I do understand why you came back so quickly. I probably would’ve done the same in your position. She can be addictive.”

  Cimon accepted the cup. “And she knows it. It’s similar to when we first met, but I don’t hate her now. So as you can imagine, it’s more intense. I don’t understand what it is, but I’m not fighting it.”

  Cyrus nodded. “When she made you she put her essence inside to start the process. You’re linked, part of her is still there, that’s what’s calling and it wants to be reunited. I don’t know why some have a stronger attraction, though.”

  Cimon looked around the garden. “It’s stronger than me and I’m powerless to resist it. But it’s not just Shelpa, I’m hunting more as well and my appetite at times seems insatiable.”

  Cyrus nodded. “That’s what I wanted to talk with you about. You’re fully merged and have been for a few years. But you’ve been dependent on others and hunted with either Mardonius or Shelpa. Recently, you’ve hunted alone and that leaves its mark.”

  Cimon frowned. “That’s what strange. I was away from people a lot of the time and didn’t feel hungry. I could last months without essence. Then I get back here and I’m ravenous. I have to fight to maintain my usual control and discipline when feeding. I hate to admit that I’ve slipped several times.”

  “You mustn’t blame yourself, Cimon, it’s natural. It’s a human reaction. Think of a man denied food. He conserves what little he has and can live like that. But put him back with a plentiful supply, then most men will gorge and feed to compensate in case they’re deprived again. That is what you’re doing.

  “It’s well known that if away from mortals, a Rabisu can go for weeks, even months without feeding, but once we’re surrounded by people again then this abstinence is impossible as their internal essence is too hard to resist.”

  “So when Mardonius calls these the wild years, he’s right, but it’s not about living wild, it’s being a lone hunter and honing your skills and learning to monitor your hunger?”

  Cyrus took a sip and nodded. “Something’s changed inside you, you’re not the same person who left Rome three years earlier, and that’s how it should be; it’s all part of merging and becoming Rabisu. But remember, this is when most of us die. When we take too many risks.” He hesitated and smiled at Cimon, “I think you’ll be all right, though.”

  Cimon used this explanation when he justified to himself why he accompanied Shelpa on her jaunts to the temples in Alexandria and Antioch and then stayed to indulge in the chaos she caused. In fact he felt as if he was splitting in two. One half was fully Rabisu, a real hunter who fed and indulged his increasing appetites, but that part was in conflict with the still human side of him, that fragment which felt loyalty to Callie and a need to be moderate and controlled. It normally depended on his mood and who he was with, but he knew that more and more, as the time passed, his Rabisu side was beginning to prevail.

  Gradually, as the months turned into a year, then that one became two, he learnt to ignore the heartbeat and shut out the part of him that wanted to be back in Germania. He felt settled in this new life now and had accepted the situation, finally learning to take Mardonius’s advice to see this change as a gift and not a curse. But deep down Cimon knew that he was deliberately overlooking the fact that it was easier to think this way than to deal with how he felt about the child in Germania.

  ***

  The party was tense; the men and Julia were talking heatedly about the accusation against Piso, the Governor of Syria, for the murder of the Emperor’s heir, the General Germanicus. There were rumours that it was witchcraft and that his widow Agrippina was privately accusing the Emperor of being involved, or of even possibly being behind the death.

  Shelpa sighed and picked at her food. Next to her, Cimon was listening to Julia, who had contacts in the imperial house. Shelpa was bored, she’d suggested bed to him a while ago and he’d nodded then turned away and been immediately caught up in the dreary politics again. At this rate she’d leave them to it and go and hunt alone; at least someone out there might appreciate her. But then she noticed that the tone of the conversation had changed.

  “It’s not safe here for anyone, Cyrus. We need to get out of Rome,” Mardonius was saying.

  “Get out of the empire, Cyrus,” Julia added. “You share friends with Agrippina, and that’s dangerous at the moment. A few people have disappeared already.”

  “And go where?” Cyrus sighed. “The empire covers most of the known world.”

  “Estakhr,” Mardonuis suggested.

  “No!” Cyrus snapped. “Not there. It’s a decadent and corrupt city.”

  “But it’s safe and out of the empire. Shelpa’s never been, have you, dear?” Mardonius persisted.

  Shelpa sat up and glanced at Cyrus. “No, I haven’t, but I’ve heard a lot about it. I think that it would be good to visit and Cimon might enjoy seeing it.”

  “It is outside the empire, Cyrus, and safe,” Julia told him.

  “You don’t know it, Julia. It’s not for the faint hearted,” he replied.

  “Are any of us? We’re Rabisu, we all have to kill humans to survive,” Julia responded reasonably. It wasn’t often the Shelpa agreed with the Roman matron, but this time, she could have kissed her. She looked at Mardonius, who winked back; finally after years of nagging they might actually be able to persuade Cyrus to go back to the east.

  Cimon had been listening to the exchange and he spoke up. “I’d be curious, I’ve never left the influence of Rome and I’ve never managed to get as far east as Estakhr.”

  Cyrus sighed. “It seems that I’m outvoted. All right, we’ll go east. But I warn you: I’m not staying longer then I need to and I’m going back as soon as this has blown over.”

  ***

  The most astounding thing about the ancient and partly ruined city was that it was openly inhabited by Rabisu. Cimon knew that they had originated from the east, and that most of them still dwelt there, but he’d never expected to see so many of them living together in one place with positions of power and influence in the city.

  They stayed with a wealthy group in their huge home in the centre, though it was more of a palace and the place dripped with wealth and opulence. These Rabisu lived in luxury and employed slaves to look after their needs in everything, even down to the feeding. They would feed night and day in rooms layered with rich rugs and strewn with cushions. The humans were chosen for their perfection and when they were drained the slaves deposited them far from the eyes of their masters. For the Rabsiu it was a life of pleasure and ease, without having to deal with the less savoury and messy parts of their existence.

  Sunsets in the desert were incredible, Cimon decided, as he leant on the balcony and watched the great golden globe melt into the horizon. This was probably the only good thing about this city. He’d been excited to come to the native home of the Rabisu, but he found their lifestyle horrific and repugnant.

  There was a noise from the courtyard below, but when he peered into the gloom, he immediately wished he hadn’t. A cart was trundling across the slabs to the wasteland beyond, making the short journey to the burial site. Cimon could make out the shrouded bodies stacked on the cart and he felt a shudder of shame course through him, kn
owing that he was responsible for one of those deaths. He was sickened at the easy way he’d fallen into the decadent lifestyle and submitted to the pressure from their hosts.

  But any further wallowing was interrupted by the sound of a footfall in the darkness behind him. He tensed, on guard for the local Rabisu, who he was beginning to detest. The breeze brought the scent of his companion and he relaxed. A few moments later, Cyrus joined him to lean on the edge of the balcony.

  “I’m going back to Rome, Cimon. I think you know why,” he said quietly. “Things have calmed down now Piso’s dead and I dislike this place as much as you do.”

  “Yes, you do,” Cimon replied. Then he took a deep breath and gave word to his fears. ”I’m frightened of becoming like them, Cyrus. They encourage us to gorge and it disgusts me, they say that our appetite is what defines us, that we can’t ever truly be Rabisu, if we don’t surrender to that hunger. Sometimes Cyrus, I can feel that happening to me and I feed even when I don’t need to, but I don’t have the strength of will to fight it and if I try, they make me feel guilty. I can’t walk away like you do and endure their sneers.”

  Cyrus leant further over the side. “Oh, I’m not immune to their taunts that I love humans more than my own kind and I also take more then I should because of that. I knew what they were like, and yet I let us come here. They’re parasites; there’s no honour in they’re existence.”

  “They don’t hunt, but have it all laid out for them. I’m surprised the people haven’t realised and put an end to it,” Cimon agreed.

  Cyrus smiled slightly. “They have; that strange sect of Wielders who attacked us in Rome were created to stop them.”

  “But they’re still here?” Cimon exclaimed, turning to look at Cyrus.

  Cyrus met his gaze. “There used to be many more villages around, filled with Rabisu. They’re all gone now. The Wielders are taking their time, but they’re winning.”

  Cimon looked away and out into the darkening horizon. “Good.”

  Cyrus smiled at that and echoed the sentiment, as they quietly watched the last of the sun set. Eventually, Cyrus spoke again.

  “So you’ll come with me?”

  “You know I will. What about the others?”

  “Mardonius will stay. He spends most days exploring his old haunts and avoids the pressure to feed. Shelpa…” He stopped and looked at Cimon. “She’s enjoying herself, I’m afraid. This suits her.” Cimon frowned and bit his lip. “She’ll get bored, Cimon, she likes to hunt and they don’t do that here. She’ll be back.”

  Cimon sighed. “Yes, she will, eventually, but I won’t wait for her.” He glanced over and smiled. “Sometimes her selfishness and ruthlessness shock me.”

  Cyrus nodded. “I know what you mean.”

  Cimon turned so that his back was against the edge of the balcony. “Do you feel it inside you sometimes, the urge to feed without compassion and indulge? Almost letting the monster within take over? Or is it just me?”

  Cyrus touched his shoulder. “No, it’s not just you. It’s there in all of us. We are monsters, Cimon. The Sumerians named us seizer demons. We were supposed to wait in doorways and drain the life force of unwary people. That force and desire is inside every one of us. You and I have a better control over it than others, I’m afraid. We fight the demon within, but everyone has the potential to be a monster, even people, though these creatures here succumbed to it years ago.”

  It was the lifestyle of these Rabsiu that finally broke Cimon from his stupor of pleasure and it was his fear of becoming like that himself that eventually drove him to listen to the subdued human part and return to Germania. He left Estakhr with Cyrus the next morning and they travelled as far as Rome together, then Cimon left Cyrus and continued on to the Alps and went off the road again to collect his hidden baggage, and he crossed the mountains in a conventional manner. He came to Callie’s valley just as the weather changed and the summer faded.

  ***

  The tumulus was still relatively clear of debris and the area around it had only a small amount of new growth. It was still perfect as a base, the small path he’d cleared through the conifers was nicely camouflaged and he’d only found it again because he’d made it himself. Over the next few weeks he stole utensils from the surrounding communities to make himself at home and spent the rest of his time observing the people in the settlement. He often spied Callie – or Inga – in the distance; she was now about seven years old and would be considered in most cultures old enough to carry out her share of domestic duties. There was a younger sister now, so she was the middle child, the same as she’d been last time in Boeotia.

  From his time on the roads and in the Roman settlements he was beginning to pick up some of the language, but not enough to understand much yet. He’d need more trips across the Rhine to become comfortable with the tongue and proficient enough to speak with these people. And he still wasn’t entirely sure which tribe they were, as he’d heard conflicting information. But as he learnt more about the culture of the Germans he’d discovered that he’d been right about the men being warriors, but it wasn’t only from the knots they wore in their hair, which he’d known about, it was also linked to the length of the facial hair. Unlike Romans and Greeks they chose not to shave the hair on their faces and wore it as a sign of courage. As expected, the women did domestic work whilst the men would alternately hunt and farm. The village seemed to have one leader, and he’d accumulated a collection of loyal men who he trusted and Inga’s father was one of these, so she obviously came from a well-thought-of family.

  But how he could become part of this community and hence part of Inga’s life still perplexed him. The only people who visited were from the other local settlements and even then it was the men and the warriors who travelled. Only on one occasion did a woman arrive with an escort and stay for a few days. But no traders or merchants came at all; as far as he could see the communities in this mountain range seemed completely cut off from the rest of Germania.

  After a few weeks Cimon travelled west across the Rhine and stayed at the German settlement that had grown up around the roman fort. Whilst there he wrote to Cyrus, fed, caught up with news and tried to master the German tongue and learn more about Inga’s tribe. A month later, when he returned, he could speak more of the language but still had little idea who these people were. So he settled down to watch them and to concentrate on being as far removed from the darker aspects of his nature as possible.

  ***

  It was dusk when he had his first visitor. He’d brought down a deer and was preparing it for drying and other uses when he had the feeling that someone was watching him. He sat up and put the knife down. There staring at him through the thicket were a pair of eyes, though they didn’t belong to anything human.

  He growled warningly in the only language that the creature would understand. It snarled in return but backed away. Satisfied, Cimon set back to work, but kept an eye on the wolf in case it decided to attack when he was occupied. When he looked up next, it had come closer again and was watching from across the glade. It was hunched down and staring at him and from the rough state of its coat, Cimon realised that the young female wolf wasn’t in the best state of health. Feeling sorry for it, even though it was in competition for food he threw some scraps to the animal. It jumped up and limped to the meat then without stopping gobbled it down and looked at him for more. He continued to prepare the deer but occasionally threw some pieces towards the hungry animal. Wolves had learnt not to cross his path and they never entered this valley or the surrounding ones when they knew he was there, so it probably meant that this one had been chased by the others and had been desperate enough to have entered his territory.

  When he’d finished he left what little remained of the carcass and carried the drying pieces of meat over his shoulder and the rest in a bag back to his shelter. The wolf took advantage and snuck in immediately to devour what was left. Later that night as he sat in the opening of the cave ne
xt to his little fire, she turned up again and settled down a few yards away and watched him with bright eyes. In the morning, when she was still there and looking expectantly for more food, Cimon realised that he’d inadvertently made a new friend who wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. If he could get close enough he might be able to see what was wrong with her paw and possibly help her, but he didn’t know if his life force would work on an animal. And that was beside the point as she certainly didn’t trust him enough to even begin to try.

  Despite the limp she followed him around all that day and the next, though the fact that he kept catching game for her was probably the real reason for her devoted company, but Cimon was strangely glad of her companionship and began to refer to her as Wolf.

  Several days later they were climbing out of a gorge laden with prey when above them the hunters from the settlement strode past laughing and chatting. Wolf growled and instinctively he hunched down next to her and grabbed her coat to hold her back. She fell silent immediately, then they both waited for the noisy hunters to wander past them, but it was a significant moment in their relationship. Wolf had let him touch her and had granted him dominance in their relationship. That night by the light of the fire, she sat next to him by choice and he was able to breathe just a little of his life force into her, though he had no idea if it would work or not. But when he woke in the morning, he had his answer because Wolf had kindly provided breakfast for them both and was waiting patiently for him with her offerings proudly laid out for his inspection.

  ***

  Cimon was content to watch and learn about the people in the valley. He had no idea how he could make himself known to Inga or, for that matter, if he even wanted to. His overriding concern had been for her safety; that was what had made him come here initially, and it was his humanity that had pulled him back again after the decadence of Estakhr. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he hoped would happen, or even if he wanted to know this new person. But he did feel some responsibility to her and possibly had a duty to protect and to watch over her. Maybe he could attain salvation that way instead? Though in all honesty, he didn’t want to be saved at the moment; his life held too many possibilities to give it up merely because an old woman had told him years ago that he should.