Tales of Cthulhu Invictus
Page 15
Domitian began again. “Now we will see if…” But a commotion outside preempted his threat. “What is it? Guards! Report!”
As the doors opened for some of the men to leave and investigate, the sounds became louder and more distinct. There were crashing noises as well as the roaring of a conflagration, and also much screaming as of a panicked crowd stampeding here and there. The guards pivoted and reentered the audience chamber, having been intercepted by other soldiers on their way in to tell their lord what transpired without.
“By Hecate, will no one tell me what is afoot?” Domitian slapped the face of a stammering guard.
The shaken man replied, voice uneven, “Your majesty, you will call me mad, but here it is! The very streets of Rome are erupting! Fire rages everywhere! But the worst is… the worst is…”
“Damn you! Tell me, or I will strike off your head this very minute!”
“My lord, the gods have returned!”
“I knew we had waited too long! The accursed Diotrephes has completed the chant, and the terror has begun! If you fools had been able to find him, it would have been I who…”
Just then Publius Janus Garba rushed through the cordon of soldiers, breathlessly exclaiming, “No, Lord Domitian! He means the gods of Rome! Their statues have stepped off their bases and are wreaking havoc with their marble thews! The soldiers are no match for them! Some sorcerer commands them!”
Domitian’s gaze turned away, and he stared at nothing, the light dawning within.
“It is Diotrephes nonetheless! And it is good news for us, Garba! It means he has been unable to master the spell to rouse up Leviathan. Our next move must be to wrest the papyrus from him.”
“Yes, my lord, but something must be done to stop the present chaos! The people may rise up! Or,” and here he looked worriedly at the soldiers with them in the room, “the Praetorian Guard!”
“Of course. Of course, senator, you are right. Other matters must wait. But what to do?”
Apollonius spoke up. “I believe I may be of some help, your highness. Let us go outside.”
Domitian looked both puzzled and relieved. He gestured to the soldiers, who formed a protective ring around their Emperor, the senator, and the two philosophers. The party exited the great building and descended the marble steps to the street. About this time, an astonishing sight emerged from around the street corner. An insignificant-looking man, whose balding, chinless likeness Apollonius and Damis had seen before, drove a golden chariot drawn by mighty griffons. He was flanked by fearsome defenders, ten feet tall and bearing the traditional images of the Olympian gods. Even the Emperor recoiled at the sight.
Apollonius stepped through the ring of Praetorian Guards. “Most impressive, Diotrephes, for a beginner! But haven’t you frightened these poor Romans quite enough?” With a swift display of complex gestures, the sage caused the massive illusion, for that is what it was, to drain away. And then it could be seen that the shivering Diotrephes rode only in a miserable apple cart pulled by a pair of goats.
There had been no damage, no destruction, no fire. Only panic induced by mesmeric phantoms. Domitian looked amazed but was not paralyzed by astonishment as his soldiers were. His barked orders snapped them out of it: “Seize him! Search him!”
The guards secured the no longer impressive little man with ease, then stripped his clothing off him, as if he were a slave on the auction block. A few moments of turning pockets inside out and ripping seams disclosed what Domitian was looking for. In triumph, he held aloft a sealed scroll, small in size and easily concealed.
“I have it now! And with it a greater throne than Rome’s!”
Apollonius dared interrupt the madman’s exultation. “But, sire, you forget! Your monstrous master will cast you aside as a man dismisses a harlot when he is done with her!”
Domitian’s eyes blazed with the light Apollonius had glimpsed when he first saw the man in his throne room weeks before.
“You do not fool me, you old charlatan! You never did! You wanted this power for yourself, but you shall not trick me! What Diotrephes could not or dared not do, I dare!”
Damis was alarmed, but Apollonius seemed to expect some outcome and patiently awaited it. The Emperor fingered the seven waxen seals and saw that one had already been broken, no doubt by Diotrephes, who must have feared opening the scroll any farther. Domitian fumbled with the second till it broke apart and crumbled.
He paused for a moment, waiting to see what might happen next.
What did happen was the rapid spraying out of a stream of black smoke which expanded till it formed the cloudy outline of a great black warhorse which reared menacingly over the Emperor. To his credit, Domitian did not cower.
“Is this another of your parlor tricks, charlatan?”
At once the figure of a featureless rider appeared astride the still-solidifying steed. Wordlessly, he unsheathed his blade and swept it back and forth through the air. Blue lightning flashed from it. At the sight of this, Domitian’s bravado fled from him, and he made to run. But one of the levin-bolts caught him right between his shoulders, and he fell headlong.
His guards were afraid to approach him till the dark horseman dissipated into fading mist. Then one knelt beside the body, turned it over, and regarded the face.
“He lives! Great Caesar lives!”
Apollonius bent down to retrieve the papyrus scroll. No one made a move to prevent him, not even Domitian, who was returning to full consciousness with surprising swiftness.
“You are… Apollonius of Tyana? I seem to recognize you, though I am sure we have never met.”
Apollonius took his offered hand and helped him up. “Do not trouble yourself, my lord. You have not been… yourself for some time. Let us talk when you have recuperated.”
***
Apollonius and Damis were soon on their way again, making for the harbor where a grateful Domitian had arranged a comfortable voyage back to Asia, where they should inform the Christians what had befallen their one-time leader, now assigned to stable duty in Caesar’s palace. And to spread the news of the Emperor’s pledge no more to persecute them or the followers of any religion.
Apollonius reached into the folds of his robes and drew forth the coveted scroll. “This shall no more trouble the world of men.” He hurled it mightily into the salty air. In mid-arc, the rolled papyrus exploded into blinding flame.
Damis could contain himself no longer. “Master, the Emperor! Was he not struck dead? And yet he was taken up alive! And his madness had been driven from him! This was your doing, was it not?”
“Alas, I cannot take credit for the feat. It was the scroll itself that struck him down. At least poor Diotrephes, despite being such a fool, had the sense to study what little of the text he dared to read before attempting to draw upon its power, and you saw what he did with even its lesser mysteries. He must have feared he would not have been equal to the challenge of the greater arcana. But Domitian, or the entity we knew as Domitian, was by no means so cautious. Accustomed to commanding at a whim, he ventured to wield the scroll like a magic bludgeon, and it destroyed him.”
Damis was not satisfied, however. “What do you mean, master? Destroyed? But he lives!”
“Domitian lives, but that which possessed him has been destroyed. Do you recall what the Revelator said concerning him? Domitian had been taken over by the vengeful ghost of the bloodthirsty Nero. The horseman has banished Nero’s spirit to the Pit from whence it strayed. It was he who moved Domitian to his crimes and persecutions.”
Quoth Damis: “We owe a great debt to the Christian seer John. With his help we have turned back the predicted Tribulation. And yet it was that reign of terror which was to usher in the return of their Christ! That will be a blow to him, surely?”
“We have not cheated him of the return of his lord, Damis. For, if you are willing to accept it, I who speak to you am he.”
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Fecunditati Augustae
A Plague of Wounds
Time Devours All
The Unrepeatables
Magnum Innominandum
Lines in the Sand
The Temple of Iald-T’quthoth
The Seven Thunders
Thank You
Dedication
Table of Contents