Ruin and Rebirth

by Michael Whitehead

  “My name is Numarius, I am a legate with the army of Caesar Otho. Your name is Julius?” The man spoke softly, kindness in his words. The young man nodded, too numb for words.

  “I saw what you did, you led these people into battle,” Numarius said.

  “I did what I thought was right.” Julius replied, shrugging. It all seemed so unimportant now, with so many lives seeping into the dirt, so many wasted years.

  “You saved us all, young man. You are a hero. Without you and what you made these people do, we would all be dead right now.” Numarius placed a hand on Julius’ shoulder and the boy began to cry. He let out deep wracking sobs from the depths of his soul. All the hurt and anger he felt, all the frustrated rage came out of him in galvanic gusts of grief.

  Numarius waited, patient and without judgement until Julius had control of himself once more. He stood up and held out a hand to the lad, pulling him to his feet. Around them, men and women had stopped what they were doing and were looking at the young boy and the legate.

  Numarius leaned towards him and spoke quietly. “The emperor will want to see you, Julius. Come with me.” He put an arm around his shoulder and led him from the battlefield.

  Around them men in armour and people in bloody and dirt-streaked tunics began to clap and cheer. Julius knew little but the grief in his heart, and cared even less.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Juliana rinsed the blood from the cloth watching the crimson veins in the water as she wrung out the excess water, and turned back to the wounded legionary. The wound in his stomach was deep and serious, but she thought he had avoided any harm to his delicate inner organs. With care and prayers, she was confident he would live.

  She could have had one of the women of the town tend the man’s wounds and normally would have done so. This man, however, had risked his life to protect the members of her order and the people who now called the cave their home. He deserved her care and she would not deny it to him. He was in a fitful sleep, whimpering and muttering as she carefully pressed the cloth to his skin, cleaning his wound.

  She had asked for a poultice to be prepared and a thick paste sat in a bowl, ready to be applied when the wound was clean and stitched. Later she would pray for him, asking the gods to spare his life in thanks for his service.

  The people of the cave were still anxiously waiting for more raiders. They had heard about the attack on the town and were still expecting more men to appear in the passageways that led to the cave. She understood that men were prepared to repel any attackers but felt sure that the ones who had appeared in the town had been the only bandits they would see today. In fact, it had been a great victory thanks to the newcomers, and she thought that maybe they would think twice about attacking her people again.

  Juliana heard footsteps behind her but continued with her work, waiting for her visitor to speak first. She knew who it was from the rhythmic tapping of wood on stone as the boy approached.

  “Will he be okay?” Regulus asked from behind her.

  “Gods willing, I think so, we will tend to him for as long as it takes.” The boy lapsed into silence and she let the peace abide. She had questions for the boy but had thought he would seek her out before she had to ask them. For a while he watched her as she first cleaned and stitched the wound before applying the poultice and finally a dressing to the wound. Finished, she turned to Regulus.

  “Did you wish to talk to me?” she asked. He looked at her with a slight hint of wonder that the young always reserve for the very old. There was a gulf of years between them and she waited to see if he would step over the bridge that crossed it.

  “I have a quest,” he said to her. It was a simple statement but Juliana felt the weight behind his words.

  “I knew that. There is a purpose about you. Do you wish to tell me about it or do you need advice?”

  “A little of both, I think,” he said and then seemed to struggle to find a place to start. Juliana waited silently, not wishing to rush the boy.

  “I was hurt in Mutina, my head...” he began and then stopped. “No that’s not where I need to start,” he said.

  “Take your time, Regulus,” she reassured him.

  “We were in Germania when all this started. We saw the first Risen. Vitus, Antonius and I were the first people to kill one of the undead.” He stopped and seemed to be waiting for a response, maybe judging if Juliana believed him. She said nothing, but nodded and smiled.

  “Later, we were sent on a mission to warn Rome. On the way I was hurt in Mutina, and after that I started to have visions. No, more than that, I began travelling to a place where one of the gods lived.”

  Juliana listened without judgement as the boy related his story about how he began to visit a hut in the pine forests of Germania, always while asleep but not able to call them dreams.

  Eventually, the hut had made way to a temple. Regulus had seen the god, Viddus. Juliana knew little of the deity in question as she was a follower of Juno. The temple was made of black, volcanic glass and blood. He described the pillars where the souls of the dead screamed in eternal agony. She let his story wash over her, not thinking of anything at all, just absorbing the details of his tale.

  He told Juliana that Viddus was the guardian of a gateway. The jailer to the door of a cell. The cell held the ancient ones, a race so old that the Roman gods had never heard of them. They were so dangerous that they had been banished, but Viddus was failing and the ancient ones were coming back to torture mankind.

  “At first, Viddus was strong. He attacked me and I was defenceless against him. Then he seemed to get weaker and weaker. He would be angry on one visit and then a broken thing on the next. I started out thinking that the old man was the one who sent the Risen against us. Then I found out he was a god. I don’t know what to think. It’s all so confusing, like he is going insane or become so senile that he doesn’t know where he is or who he is.

  “The last time I visited the temple was different. Usually I feel myself arrive in that place. It’s like waking and walking into another room but this wasn’t like that. I was already there, I felt like I had always been there. I was being tortured but not by Viddus. He was next to me, he was broken and twisted, being torn apart and barely holding himself together. Then he spoke to me, in a different voice, a powerful voice.”

  Juliana finally spoke to Regulus, the first time she had spoken since he began his story.

  “Was it the ancient ones who spoke to you, Regulus?” she asked kindly.

  “He said his name was Zombie,” Regulus answered. As he spoke the name, a cold chill ran down his spine, partly from the memory of the being speaking to him as if rotting flesh was made into sound and partly the thought that the owner of that voice could see him now, speaking to the ancient priestess.

  Juliana let the boy’s story wash over her, but not to make sense of it. She was too old and too wise to think she could decipher the details of everything she had been told. She allowed herself to believe this boy, and why wouldn’t she? Had she not spent her whole life training from childhood to worship a goddess she had never seen, but believed in utterly?

  Finally, after a time in which she could feel the sorrow and impatience of the young man before her, she spoke.

  “You know this is almost certainly a trap?” she asked him, gently.

  “I have thought of nothing else,” Regulus answered.

  “Then why continue on your current path, when it could lead to your destruction?” Juliana asked him, not to chastise him but to test his resolve.

  “Because I have to. Sometimes I feel like I’m being drawn toward the temple against my will. Other times I feel like I’m fighting a force that is trying to repel me. Either way it feels like the answer to all of this. The undead need to be stopped and I feel like I’m the one who has been chosen to do it.” Regulus looked at the ground between his feet, unable to meet her eye.

  “I’m not sure you believe that, am I right?” Juliana asked, forcing the boy t
o honesty.

  “Oh, I don’t know!” Regulus said, raising his voice to a shout. Juliana let his anger rise without protest, as she needed him to examine his feelings. “I want to believe that I’m doing the right thing, but I also know I could be doing the worst thing possible. I could follow this path all the way to the end of the world.”

  “You could, it’s true. I wanted to know if you understood that,” Juliana said, smiling. “Now tell me, what does your heart tell you?”

  “It is terrified, I am trying not to listen to it at all.” Regulus admitted with a look of shame in his eyes.

  “I think it is about time you started,” Juliana pushed.

  “At the same time, it wants to know what a fourteen year old boy has to do with any of this? Who am I to make these choices? I could be the person capable of saving the rest of humanity, and I could have been given the greatest mission in history. I could also be the biggest fool ever born, walking into a trap with my eyes shut so that I don’t see it. What if I am doing all of this because of pride? What if I have convinced myself that I am the saviour of the world and all I end up doing is making the situation much worse?” Regulus looked at Juliana with the hope that she had the answers to his questions. She didn’t, he should have know that.

  “In the end, there is only one question you can hope to answer. It has to stand for all the others you cannot give yourself,” Juliana said. Regulus lifted his eyes from the ground and looked at her. In his eyes was a sickening look of hope that made Juliana want to cry. “Whatever the outcome, are you doing this for the right reasons? Are you acting out of a sense of the good in you?”

  Regulus stared for the longest time, though his eyes did not see her. He was looking inside himself, searching for the answer to this most important of questions. Finally, he looked at her and a smile crossed his lips and lit his eyes with a spark.

  “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I am doing this because it is the right thing to do.”

  “Then none of the other questions are of any importance.”

  Juliana stood up, her years tried to stop her but this was not a moment for remaining seated. She grasped the boy's shoulders and guided him to his feet, pulled him towards her and hugged him. He did not flinch as the young sometimes do when the elderly try to comfort them, and instead he let himself be held. Finally she drew back from him and looked into his eyes.

  “To make the wrong choice for the right reasons can never damn us. We have lost almost everything, but you may be able to save what is left. Go on your quest, child. It is a good thing you do.”

  Regulus smiled at her, tears rolling across the contours of his cheeks. As he turned from the priestess and passed the injured legionary, Juliana felt a strange feeling of doom come over her.

  “I take it it’s time to go?” Garic asked as he stepped up behind Vitus. The centurion who had saved his life more than once was busy checking his weapons and folding his clothes.

  The corner of the cave that Vitus had called home since they had arrived was warm, as it caught the heat from the fires and trapped it. Garic sat on the bed and waited for him to stop what he was doing and look at him. Finally he seemed to realise his friend wanted to talk to him.

  “I’m staying here, Vitus." He felt a sliver of shame creep under his words as he spoke them. He owed this man so much, but he had to put his family first, and they were safer here than anywhere they had visited since they left Rome.

  “I guessed you would. I even thought of suggesting it,” he said with a smile that settled Garic’s nerves. He had built himself up to this conversation, dreading the moment, and now it didn’t seem so bad.

  “You’ll be okay?” Vitus laughed a little, but not unkindly. “There is a hard road ahead of us, Garic. It would be insane to drag your infant son across the Alps unless we had to. Besides, these people could use a couple of strong arms and a bit of steel. What about Hakor, Lee and his mother?”

  “Lee wants to go with you, but I’ve argued against it and so has his mother. She will stay here and I think that will make up his mind. As for Hakor, I think he has decided to stay. I think he should go with you. You need strong arms too.” Garic answered.

  Vitus could see pain in the butcher's eyes. A strong bond had grown between the Roman and the Egyptian, and it would hurt him if Hakor left. For his own part, he had hoped that the ex-slave would choose to go on as he was useful in a fight, and without him the party would only number four.

  Tatius would have to remain here as his wound was too severe to do otherwise. Hakor, on the other hand, had his leg bound but was capable of joining them if he chose to.

  “I can’t help thinking that I’m turning my back on something important by not coming with you,” Garic said.

  “You would be ignoring something important if you did,” Vitus returned. “These people need you, your family needs you. When this is all over, when the world finds its new path, we will need to rebuild what we have lost. Men like you will need to do that building.”

  “How do I do that?” Garic asked, looking perplexed and worried.

  “You do what you have always done, my friend. You work hard to do whatever is necessary. You get up every day and do whichever task is most important on that day. You allow these people to believe that everything will be okay.”

  Garic shrugged and managed a small smile. “Will it? Will everything be okay?” he asked.

  “I wish I knew, I really do. All I’m doing is taking my own advice; waking up every morning and doing whatever feels most important.” He stood up and walked across the small space, reached into his pack and brought out a small, wickedly sharp knife. He handed it to Garic and saw that he intended to refuse. Vitus shook his head before the other man could speak.

  “It’s for Lee,” he smiled as Garic held out his hand and took the knife. It had once belonged to Vitus’ father, who had used it every day on the farm. A thousand jobs, a thousand uses, and now he would pass it on to the young boy and at the same time break his heart. “Tell him I don’t want him to come with us. Tell him he would be in the way. Tell him whatever you need to in order to make him stay here, safe.”

  “He won’t like it, he looks up to you,” Garic said with a wince.

  “I know. He’s a good boy and I’d rather upset him now than see him dead later. Keep him with you and maybe when this is all over, I can come back to you all.” Vitus turned to carry on packing his kit and stood to leave.

  “You won’t say goodbye to any of them?” Garic asked. “Handan? Lee? Atia?”

  “It wont make things any easier, so we are leaving as soon as we can gather our things. If we start with goodbyes I might end up changing my mind and taking some of them with me, and I can’t allow that to happen.”

  He stepped toward his friend and the two men embraced. It was warm and friendly, but Garic felt the guilt and sadness as it washed over the other man. The legionary knew he was taking the coward's way out by not saying goodbye, but he believed the butcher understood why he did it.

  “I want all of you back here in one piece when you’ve done whatever it is you have to do,” he said to Vitus. The centurion nodded and turned to pick up his pack, slung it onto his shoulder and carried it from his makeshift room.

  Outside the cave on the path to the town, Lucia, Regulus and Gallus waited for him. Lucia dropped her pack and hugged him as he approached. She must have seen the sadness on his face because she lifted herself onto her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

  “It will never get any easier than it is right now, Centurion,” she whispered in a tender voice.

  “I know, come on, lets make the most of the daylight,” Vitus replied and they turned to go.

  Up ahead, a dark forest in Germania awaited them but to what end they could not know until they got there. Between them was a mountain range and hundreds of miles. Who knew how much danger their journey held? There was one way to find out. Vitus turned away from the cave and headed down the path toward the town and the road beyond.
His friends should be safe here, safer than they would be if they followed this damned fool quest.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The house was dark and deserted, like so many around Rome. Secundus and his men had filled sacks with whatever useful things they could find, but pickings were getting slimmer by the day. They had moved everyone they had found to the new base on the Palatine and in many ways that was good, but the constant need to find more food and water meant the situation was becoming increasingly difficult.

  The men went out in teams of four, moving a little further away with each trip. Twice since the move up onto the Palatine, they had broken into houses to find survivors. A woman and three children the first time. A family of four had been rescued three days later.

  Each survivor brought a new wave of excitement to the people at the palatial residence, and it gave them new hope to see that there were still people out there to be found. They didn’t see the lengths that Secundus and his men had to go to in order to keep them all fed, and in his darkest hours even he had considered cutting his losses and fleeing the city but honour and the thought of the shame he would live with for the rest of his life kept him from abandoning them.

  They had lost men on these forays into the city. The Risen seemed to be thinning in numbers but were still so abundant that they were a constant threat. They were safer up on the hill than in the lower parts of the city, and why that should be Secundus was yet to discover.

  He signalled to his men and they moved toward the door as the last of the light had gone out of the sky, and they would be able to move around with less risk of discovery than when they had set out at dusk.

  Secundus opened the door to the street and, after a glance, stepped out. The moon was a slim arc in the sky with such an abundance of stars that he felt rather insignificant. He peered down the street and saw two Risen, but they were heading away from them so he moved across the street and between two houses on the opposite side.