Praetorian Rising

by J. McSpadden

  Theo pulled back for a second but remained close enough that their breaths mingled and danced in circles. "Mother Ma'Nada, I've missed these lips, your smell, your taste; I've missed you."

  Her stomach dropped like a sinking stone into an open pit of nothing. Immense frustration boiled within her and she jerked back, breaking the spell Theo had cast with his mouth. "No, stop it. I can't do this. I don't remember you."

  Theo hung there; his arms still outstretched as his face pinched with massive confusion. "What do you mean you can't? We are." He tried to pull her close again, and she automatically shied away, hitting the door behind her. Theo's expression crumpled with the understanding of sudden loss.

  "You are a stranger to me, Theo. I'm not going to remember no matter what you try. A kiss won't bring her back—this girl you think I am. I don't know you, and you shouldn't be entertaining some fantasy you've had."

  "'Fantasy?'" he croaked, his voice low and unsteady. "Our lives, our memories—those aren't fake Cam. They're more real than anything else in the world; you just have to try to remember."

  "Well, I don't remember, okay?! Whoever it was that you knew before is no longer here. She's gone!" Camille shouted, shoving him away.

  He stood there, mouth agape. "I can help you, Cam. I can show you," he said, his hand outstretched in an offering of peace and vulnerability. It didn't soothe the burn of discomfort boiling inside of her as she stared at his proffered extension of friendship. His bare hand, smudged with dirt, reminded her of the attack in the forest, of the Equestrian guards that pressed on her weakness to gain her submission. She took a small step backward, fists clenched at her side as a wave of nausea rolled over her.

  "Cam," Theo said in a whisper. "I'd never hurt you. You know that."

  "How could I possibly know that? I have no idea who I am, let alone your intentions. There's nothing past the last year—no memories, no family—nothing. You're nothing!" The words tumbled out of her mouth in a rush, jabbing at him like a blade of ice.

  Theo wore his emotions like a crown, the swirling moods and sharp mental pivots visible to see in his physical stature. Knowing him less than a few days, she could read his emotion like an open book. His entire body tensed as her words crashed into him, the warmth of his tender offer sizzling beneath his frozen, cobalt glare. In the span of a sentence, she'd unknowingly torn away his glowing crown, the agonizing effects consuming him whole.

  "You're right about one thing," he said taking a massive step away from her. "You're not the Camille I used to know. She'd know that no amount of time or distance could ever come between us."

  His words slapped her across the face like acid, sharp and stinging. She had no response, nothing that could heal the injury she'd just caused. And yet she stood her ground, unmoving in her resolve. The gap between them grew into a broad valley of disenchantment as Theo turned and stomped away from her.

  "Sleep well, Camille. Breakfast is two hours past dawn," he bit out over his shoulder, not bothering to look at her.

  "Theo, wait—" Camille clipped, clinging to her doorframe. "I'm s-sorry..."

  He either ignored her or didn't hear what she'd said. Either way, she felt the air zip out of her chest, and a familiar chill slipping into her bones. She was left to stand by herself in a dark pit of regret she had no idea how to escape from.

  ***

  Vesyon pressed the stubborn tobacco more securely into his pipe with his finger. He enjoyed his small rituals, the mindlessness of them; they allowed him a reprieve from the chaos his life was usually comprised of. A little moment of control and silence amidst all the noise.

  The calming snap and pop of breaking logs in the fireplace before him filled the room with a soothing ambiance, and Vesyon leaned into the high back wing of his chair. Phillip's office was sparsely decorated yet felt completely comfortable. A long oak table across the room held a lamp, a pen, and a pad of paper. No mess, just basic necessities—that was the way of the General. It was the reason Vesyon had grown so attached to the man in the last twenty years he'd known him; he reminded Vesyon of himself. The pain in Phillip's eyes undoubtedly mirrored what Vesyon carried in his own, and sometimes they'd catch one another in a moment of vulnerable reminiscing when verbal explanations weren't necessary. They would nod in understanding and walk the opposite direction—it was the common courtesy of men who knew what it felt like to lose someone they'd truly loved.

  Tonight, however, Phillip wasn't in the mood to leave Vesyon alone. Their problems had exploded overnight with Camille's arrival. It hadn't been a part of their plan, and as usual, things had gotten a little out of control.

  Once Vesyon was satisfied with the amount of tobacco wedged into his pipe, he pulled out a small match and flicked the end along the edge of his flint stone. He then dragged in a satisfying amount of smoke, hoping it might ease the turmoil broiling inside him.

  "You should've left her there or had Neeko take her back," Phillip said, pacing over the shaggy blue rug he kept dead center in his office. "There was no reason to bring her here."

  "I didn't have a choice." He braced himself for the sharp response he knew he’d receive from Phillip. They both knew that statement was a lie. Instead of making the smarter choice he’d made a selfish one.

  Phillip shook his head vehemently in response. "No, Captain. You had a choice. You should've sent her back!"

  He couldn't help but smile at Phillip's name for him; he never could call him Vesyon in front of their own Rogues. It's demeaning; you are above them in rank, it must be noted, he would say whenever Vesyon asked he call him by his first name. Vesyon would always ask him if the Rogues thought it strange their General would take orders from a mere Captain, but Phillip would shrug off the question as though it wasn't a matter to bother with.

  "Sending her back would have made things worse, not to mention more difficult on Peter. I had to take her with me. Then there’s Grenswald, whowould have notified Alpha Quarter that he found a Praetorian in Sierra Village. It doesn't matter that he didn't know who she was—the Equestrians would've found her there, and I wouldn't have been able to protect her. Not with what we have coming our way. Now that she’s here, we will have to improvise."

  The shaggy rug's tufts of blue cotton shifted beneath Phillip's feet, victim to his endless pacing. The poor blue carpet was now tattered and browning around the edges. It'd seen better days. As it were, it endured Phillip's rapid stomping with the relaxed ease only a worn carpet could manage.

  "Fine," Phillip finally conceded, halting in his movement. "You brought her here, so now what? Keep her in her room to make sure no one sees her?"

  "That's impossible; she's more stubborn than her mother ever was," Vesyon said, the ghost of a smile flitting across his lips at such a mention. Thinking of Jesabelle was like listening to the wild rush of the forest during a storm. At times it was quiet and enabled him to think clearly. The winds would dip through the hanging boughs of pine, willow, and birch like a mournful whisper. The ache in his chest pressing on him like a bruise, making it impossible to breathe. Other times, it would rip through the canopy in a crescendo, the cadence of fury bursting out of him in a vicious rage.

  In this moment, the storm ceased. He cherished these moments as much as they caused him to recoil. In seeing Jesabelle, he always inevitably turned his thoughts toward Camille. She was every bit her mother, so much so that he could swear she was Jesabelle at times. The auburn hair, emerald eyes, alabaster skin—it was almost impossible to separate the two of them in his mind. If Vesyon were honest with himself, he'd admit to bringing Camille along not because he thought it was safer for her, it was because he needed her.

  Pulling his mind away from the longing he felt for Jesabelle, and the similarities Camille embodied, Vesyon packed another round of tobacco into his pipe and repeated the drugging ritual he so desperately needed.

  "You're pretty transparent when you think about her, you know," Phillip said, staring Vesyon straight in the face.

 
"I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Lie to me all you want, Captain, just as long as you're not lying to yourself. They're practically twins."

  Vesyon blinked, willing his features to remain impassive. "Yeah, sure. They do look similar, but I know Camille isn't her mother. I brought her to Romeo because I made a promise to keep her safe. That's it," he said in a tone that clearly meant the topic was no longer up for discussion.

  "What'd you tell her?" Phillip asked, tracking a new path across the cement floor.

  Vesyon quirked a brow in irritation at the General before lighting the blackened embers of his overstuffed pipe. "She believes the Equestrians are only coming for her."

  Palpable pressure filled the room. "Wow, Captain. I believe you've outdone yourself."

  "I can't very well tell her the truth! Camille and many others would think it all incredibly ill-advised."

  Phillip grunted in response, his head bobbing like a cork in a barrel of water. "They wouldn't exactly be wrong. It's a terrible plan."

  Vesyon's glare sharpened in exasperation. "You agreed to it."

  "Aye, I did. Doesn't mean it isn't bloody idiotic."

  "Look," Vesyon huffed, "it's simple. We know that LeMarc is in search of Ephidra Lily."

  "Yes, you've told me. Though I don't know where you got that information."

  "From Langhorn, the royal physician."

  "I know who Langhorn is you dolt," Phillip said under his breath. Vesyon ignored the obvious jab and continued.

  "He told me LeMarc would be moving forward with his plan when he sent out for Ephidra Lily."

  "What plan?" Phillip replied, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

  Vesyon hadn't exactly shared his entire vault of information with Phillip, and he was beginning to see it hadn't been such a great idea to keep him in the dark. "We don't know yet." Vesyon kept his eyes latched on the sparking flames of the hearth, anything to keep from meeting Phillip's fiery stare. "I spent the last year sending out thinly veiled clues to other villages and soldiers that we had an underground vault filled to the brim with the plant."

  "Why would you do that?" Phillip interjected. "That isn't true."

  Vesyon snorted. "Of course it's not true, but LeMarc doesn't know that. And neither does the spy who told him. The goal was to make them believe we had it. I don't need to know what he plans on doing; I only need to know when he plans on doing it."

  The fire crackled loudly as Phillip absorbed Vesyon's words. "What is it about this plant—this Ephidra Lily—that he wants so badly? What's he going to do with it?"

  Vesyon inhaled a massive breath of smoke and blew the flavorful tobacco out between pursed lips. "All I know is that LeMarc is willing to send his entire army and a fleet of ships our direction because he believes we have some in our possession. That alone tells me the stuff is hazardous."

  Even though Vesyon understood the basic concept of why LeMarc and even Langhorn coveted the precious plant, he had no idea why the High King was so desperate for it now. Ephidra Lily extract was a strong bonding agent used to create the Praetorians. It was their primary source of stability, the only thing that kept the Praetorian virus at a manageable level within their systems. Very few knew about the plant at all, and even fewer knew how the plant was effectively used in any such capacity. As far as Vesyon saw it, only Langhorn and LeMarc himself understood what Ephidra Lily was truly capable of.

  "Let me see if I understand. We plan to pull the High King out of hiding by luring him here with the promise of Ephidra Lily that he no longer has stock of. Delay his plans, whatever they might be, and lead his troops and soldiers into the maze of the compound and blow them all to smithereens," Phillip recited. "Do I have that right?"

  "Correct," Vesyon replied. "None of that included her, however."

  Phillip had the gall to laugh. "Thank you, Captain, but I'd figured that out for myself."

  Vesyon ignored his dry tone and continued. "This upcoming battle that I told her about is only meant to distract LeMarc's attention; I don't need her standing in the middle of it making a stance for the rebellion."

  Phillip stopped his rhythmic pacing to fall into the high-backed chair across from Vesyon. "You will surely pull the High King's attention if the King Regent sees her in your possession. Not to mention the reformation of the Rogue Rebellion. They've been looking for Camille. For an entire year. Any reason to attack the Rogues, they'll attack, and they will do so in the name of protecting the kingdom from rebels. All the while planning to yank her back into the hands of the High King."

  "They won't see her," Vesyon assured.

  "Oh no?"

  Vesyon didn't respond. Instead, he dumped out the burnt embers of his pipe into the fireplace before beginning to clean it. "I'll make sure she's out of sight."

  Even as the words left his mouth, he knew they weren't entirely truthful. He had told Camille a half-truth, and now she wanted to help their cause. Phillip was right; he shouldn't have brought her to Romeo Village, not now. Taking her to White Wall to be in the security of Langhorn would have been a smarter plan of action. Currently, however, he couldn't be more at ease knowing she was only a few floors away from him.

  "And the leak? You better have a plan to fix this. I never agreed to this, and I definitely don't do well lying for you when asked about it."

  "It's not a problem. I created it purposefully, and so far, it's worked."

  "There are over one thousand people within this compound, Captain. How are we supposed to deduce who's feeding our secrets to the other side?"

  "Don't worry," Vesyon said, focusing on the flames in the fireplace. "I'll figure that one out too."

  "Right. And if we figure out that issue, how are we going to evacuate those not able and willing to help us in the fight? My people not only don't have a clue of what is coming—as you requested, we kept them blissfully unaware—they also have no idea what you are asking of them when the battle is at our doorstep. This is their home, Captain. I hope you remember that and take it to heart."

  Vesyon refilled his pipe with a wad of tobacco leaves, their scent sharp and inviting to the rush of nerves fluttering through his system. "They will deal with it in the same way as we did, General. They will accept it for what it is."

  "And what is that exactly?"

  His eyes rose, staring at the General, his arms crossing in stark defiance of what was heading their direction. "Survival," Vesyon replied, stone-faced and determined to make his point seen. "I told you years ago after we rebuilt this compound that every bit of this sanctuary was temporary. You knew then that this homestead would never last. My plans from then haven't changed."

  Phillip nodded, though Vesyon was sure it wasn't from actual agreement so much as it was acquiescing to the forward motion of the plan set in place. There was no stopping its trajectory now. For several minutes, the only sound in the room was the pop and crackle of the fire as they both fell into a trance, watching the sporadic display of light and smoke swirl in an endless dance.

  Finally, Vesyon felt Phillip's gaze returned to him. "You have to tell Camille, Captain. You can't keep this a secret much longer. If she's already experiencing Praecollection, it's only a matter of time before she remembers what she did. Who she is."

  "It's not an easy thing to tell her," Vesyon replied. "She's a ticking time bomb. I have no idea if or when she might lose control again like she did back in Charlie Town. I need to ease her into it."

  Phillip shook his head, knowing full well the weight Vesyon carried. "What does the doc say about Camille? About her condition?"

  Vesyon chuckled at Phillip's choice of words. "I'm not sure Langhorn would call it a condition, per se. The term he used was 'blood rage.'"

  "What happened still makes no sense to me, even after all this time," Phillip said, shifting in his seat.

  "I've heard the story; it's not your fault. You wouldn't have been able to stop Camille even if you knew what was about to happen," Vesyon said, knowing the weight o
f guilt Phillip still carried.

  "I'm telling you; she'd been normal that day. She came into Charlie Town when I was on patrol. The sun had barely gone down and then there she was, charging into town like an army of warriors was on her heels. She seemed half-crazed with worry, but her eyes were green—that I know for certain. I remember thinking how much she looked like her mother, red hair flying every direction and a sense of purpose blazing across her face. Jesabelle had been my best Lieutenant, you know—she wasn't afraid of anything. Camille came looking for her that night, told me it was an emergency. Apparently, her mother had sent word of a Chimera attack just inside the village. It crushed me to tell her, but I hadn't seen her mother in over two months since LeMarc requested her presence at Alpha Quarter. She knew her mother hadn't made it, that Jesabelle had gone missing and no one had heard from her. Not to mention that there'd been no Chimera attack to be spoken of. She screamed at me, told me I was an ass of a soldier, and took off toward Alpha Quarter. Tough Praetorian, that one."

  "You sure she was in her right mind?" Vesyon asked, aware of the fact he'd asked Phillip the same question over a hundred times already. He knew the story, knew the details. Knew Camille had returned to Charlie Town the next day just after dusk, less than one full sun cycle after talking to Phillip. In that short amount of time, something had happened to her. There was no explanation for it, no logical reasoning behind her fierce change of attitude.

  Phillip had always explained it as the coming of the end, a princess of fire blazing through the village with a thirst for death. It had only taken two hours for Camille to slaughter almost every citizen of Charlie Town, Phillip's wife included. Vesyon had been too late to extract Camille after the attack. Chimera rushed in on the heels of her destruction, laying waste to remaining dregs of the city. It was seven years after the massacre of Charlie Town that Phillip finally saw her again after Vesyon rescued her from LeMarc.