by Angie Arms
He raised a hand to rest on her hip, leaning over her more, her face turned up to his only inches away. He swayed against her and with the wall’s help her body pressed tighter against him. He tried to smile down at her but the pain washed over him and his knees threatened to buckle.
“We’re almost there,” she gasped taking his weight and shoving away from the wall. Together they staggered the few paces to the bed. Perhaps it was the first time since being introduced to the female form that sex was not on his mind when he was partially lowered and partially fell onto the bed. His legs didn’t even make it up onto the bed before the darkness took him again.
Chapter 6
Washing the blood from her hands Jillian saw that they shook. At least they had not when it counted. She had managed to clean the infection from all his wounds save for a deep one in his side. As a result she had to cut into the infection in an effort to drain it. The stench had twisted her stomach, but she had remained strong, cleansing again and again as she squeezed the infection out. The man had not staid unconscious throughout but had awoken, fighting her like a madman, reopening his other wounds. In the end he had lost consciousness again but the damage had been done.
She lay the cloth down and cast a glance to the form that now lay quietly in the bed. Jillian knew far more about the man than she wished to know. Had she really wanted another human to be with her? Why was this one sent? Why not some gentle man or woman who knew compassion? The old woman was correct, he had shed a great deal of blood. It seemed, if she could believe his ranting, everyone wanted him dead for his transgressions against them and those they loved. This man was not without guilt for the things he had done. Those memories would not torment him now if he felt differently.
Jillian stepped outside the hut into the moonlight casting down through the trees as they swayed in the cooling fall breeze. He was a soldier, was that not his job? She knew he had thought his father the emperor and had felt the anger and hate he had the day he found out otherwise when he relived it in his delirium. She did not know for sure what he did to the man who deceived him, whatever it was she was sure it was but another dark spot on the man’s black soul. She waited there, outside her hut, exhausted but unable to sleep. With another human present she feared her nightmares more than anything. Slowly the moon gave way to the sun and early morning light flooded down on her.
Pushing him from her mind as best she could, for he consumed her thoughts every moment of the day and into the night where his muscled body was strong again and he came to her of his own will, she went to the river to wash herself for the first time in the days he had come to her. The water was cool and relaxing. She used the sliver of soap she had left. Mara had known how to make soap, and Jillian learned that knowledge did not necessarily make for success. Though she knew all the ingredients and the components that went into the making of it her soap always ended in disaster. Soon she would not be able to bath for her ignorance, at least not with the soft smelling soap she so loved. She dare not ask the Druids, for their price might be her life and despite her tormented loneliness she suspected she would never welcome being one of their sacrifices.
After washing her hair she lathered the soap gently onto her cloth and began washing her body. She slowed her scrubbing when she reached the scar on her leg. The result of falling out of a tree Mara had told her time and again not to climb. She had tried to hide the deep gash, suffering through its long and painful healing assuming it was one of the many secrets each thought they hid from the other. Truthfully they could keep nothing hidden from the other, after all, Mara had raised her and they had lived many years together, just the two of them. Jillian knew the depression that sometimes had taken over her maid from their sentence of solitude though she tried hard to hide it. Jillian never confronted her about it but went out of her way to either try to cheer her up or grant her the complete solitude she sought at those times, depending on her mood. Likewise she knew Mara saw the debilitating fear that came to Jillian in the night, and sometimes during the day, that she would infect the entire world with the evil that lurked inside her.
The soap slipped from her grasp and into the water. Jillian lunged for it, lost her footing and fell head first into the water with a gasp before she closed off her airway so as not to drown herself. She came up sputtering looking franticly around herself for the soap. It had caught the current and was being swept quickly away. Lunging forward she did her best to swim for it in the shallow water. She banged her knees and shins on the larger rocks in her effort and finally stood back on her feet to race after it but it only got farther and farther away. Finally, it excited the strong current and entered the deep pool of water that to Jillian appeared as if there was no bottom. It caught in the swirl and went under. She saw it spit back out only to be sucked into the depths again.
Jillian stopped at the ledge, the water swirling about her, sucking her toward the abyss. She watched several moments for the soap to return to the surface but when it did not she drew in a breath and her courage and plunged in. Fear squeezed at her chest quicker than the lack of fresh air as her arms pulled her down and down. What lived in this stretch of dark water? Could this be where the dragons of those tells she heard from early childhood went to seek safety from the hunters. They could be now coming after her enraged that they had to give up everything to make way for her kind. Or even worse there could be man eating fish here, dark slimy creatures that had never seen the light of day. What if this was the place Cerberus dwelled when he was not guarding the gates of the Underworld.
Suddenly she saw it, hanging in limbo just below her. With one final kick she reached it, wrapped her hand around it than swam madly for the surface. As soon as her head broke above water she pulled in a great gasp of air. She wasted no time swimming for the ledge and the safety it offered from the monsters of the deep. She could feel them grabbing for her as she pulled herself back into the rapid flow of water as it plunged over the edge and disappeared into the darkness.
Panting she sat in the current for a few moments catching her breath, holding onto what was left of the soap as if it were a life line. Perhaps it was, for it was the last thing they had done together that day before Pluto had come for Mara in her sleep.
She heard it. Coming quickly, like a thousand bats swooping down on her. Jillian scrambled to her feet, gripping the soap tightly in her hand so as not to lose it again, she dashed for the bank. She could not let them take her here in the water for she was sure that would mean her death. She heard the voices with the beating of the wings, she could not make out what they said. Familiar voices but unfamiliar just the same. She wanted to stop and listen to them, to hear what they said but dared not.
With a strong leap she sprang from the water and landed on the bank. She moved a few more paces from the edge before dropping onto her knees, her world whirling about her. The taste of blood came to her mouth and she knew she had lost the fight as blackness enveloped her.
She heard the birds singing and felt a bug crawl across her hand. Slowly she opened her eyes and cringed at the sunlight that flowed down over her. The sun had progressed across the sky, to its peak and appeared to just be descending toward night. She realized she had lain there hours but could not find the energy to rise. A few more moments she laid there, her head full of fog before she slowly recalled her dash for the soap in the river hours before. Did she still have it? She would have to see in a moment for she could not find the strength just yet to raise a finger. With her memory of the river returning came with it the knowledge that she had not a stitch of clothing on. Her skin was not as fair as it once had been but she knew despite that her hours in the sun might see her burnt but numbness still reined over her body.
Jillian lay there longer as she struggled to reclaim her body from the darkness that tried often to take her. Slowly she rose to a sitting position. She had wallowed about turning the dirt into mud from her wet body and hair. Her tongue had been damaged on either side from her teeth but she knew
it would be later in the day before she would feel the extent of the pain. She looked down at her hands and the bar of soap in one of them. It was no longer a sliver but a pulp when she had squeezed it so tightly in her hand. It was then she cried, the tears doing nothing but taking more energy from her already worn out body.
She rolled onto her knees, pausing on all fours as she drew in more air and tried to quiet her shaking limbs. So tired, she just wanted to lie down but knew she had to get back to her hut. Then the memory of him came back to her and she worried briefly about his well being. She had been gone a long time, a part of the night, all morning and a part of the afternoon. Long enough.
Finally Jillian staggered to her feet, grasping a tree as she straightened to steady herself. Her legs felt like they would give out from under her. She stood there for as long as she dared before stumbling through the trees along the river bank. It seemed like it took the rest of the afternoon to reach her clothes and by the time she did the mud has dried to her. She gingerly stepped into the water and sitting washed herself again. Again she dropped the soap and on a cry of anguish she watched the current take it in the direction it had earlier. Only this time she could do nothing but watch it disappear from sight before climbing to her feet. Gathering her clothing she did not bother to don it but shuffled toward the hut. Entering, one glance at her bed and she saw the man still breathed. Unable to do anything for him she dropped her clothes onto the floor and lying down on them she let the exhaustion claim her.
Chapter 7
Evander stood quietly behind the panel in the emperor’s chambers. It had been a long time since he had been here. He felt, in a way, as if he was avenging his first evil deed in the very same room. War was a splendid thing, in that there was really no right or wrong. Men spoke of noble deaths on the battle field, face to face with his enemy. Wars were fought behind the lines as well.
Could he really call what he had just done a part of war? Perhaps. This night had been in the making for an entire week after he discovered what Claudius had done. The man had chosen him at random. No seed of the emperor’s had gone into his making. The things Claudius had asked Evander to do all in the name of the family were just a ruse. It was a way for the emperor to get what he wanted with an assurance of total silence. It was clear without Claudius’s support Evander would have had a difficult life with no hope of the status he was immediately given upon Claudius’s ascension to the throne.
He would give it back however if it would bring back Caius. It wasn’t so much the killing of the emperor but had he known Claudius was not his father he would not have stood there silently to watch his friend die. For Evander blood ran deep, especially the blood he did not know but craved knowledge of since a boy. His guilt had grown tenfold when he found it was all for nothing. That Caius had given up his life for nothing but the greed of an emperor was enough to make Evander want to charge up to the man and drive his sword deep into his gut while he watched the life leave him. But he had grown into a warrior, he was patient and this plan was much better.
He watched Claudius, alone now as he slept, listening for the shallow breathing that would signal the true beginning of his plan. When it came elation washed over him. He felt no remorse, only anticipation for the fear Claudius would be leaving this world in.
He moved to the bed, not caring that he would wake the sleeping man. Reaching the bed he yanked the curtains back and rolled the emperor toward him. Claudius’s eyes flew open but his body did not move. Finally, he was able to raise a hand but it fell back onto the mattress feebly.
“I know I’m not your bastard,” Evander said low enough the guards in the hall would not hear him.
He watched the man try to yell, he watched him try to wriggle away but the only sound that came out was low and unintelligible enough to be a sound he would make in his sleep and the only movement was a little turning of his head and limbs.
“Don’t worry, I drugged your wine,” Evander said leaning over him in order to speak quietly.
Claudius’s panicked eyes looked up at him as Evander drew his knife and placed it at his throat. “Rather fitting isn’t it that you, an emperor, should die by my hand just as the one before you did. I guess it is a wonderfully splendid thing for a warrior like me to take the lives of two of your station. It’s a shame no one will know,” he said applying pressure.
“Did you have something to say?” he asked pulling the blade away and leaning closer.
“I can’t understand what you’re saying,” Evander said in mock exasperation as he rose up and placed the knife back.
Frantic Claudius tried shaking his head. Evander sighed and leaned back down.
“I will give you anything you want,” the man said in a whisper. It seemed as if the man had struggled many minutes to say this.
“Anything?” Evander asked in surprise. “I wouldn’t know where to begin. Let me think about this,” he said knowing what the final outcome of the night would be but enjoying the game he felt he owed the man who had toyed with him for so many years.
Evander used the blade of the knife to tap his chin as he pretended to contemplate what the emperor could give him. His brows raised and he smiled as if he thought of his request and leaned closer to Claudius to confide in him.
“I want to feel your warm blood spill across my hand. I want to drive a sword into you as you did my friend so many years ago. Unfortunately that is not the way I’m going to kill you, for that would be too easy for a man such as you. Did you know the boy you killed was Caius and not Milo? I know you care not but that was the ultimate sacrifice of a friend for a friend and I just stood there and let it happen.”
“You’re a coward,” Claudius managed to get out between his nearly immobile lips.
“Yes, I was only a coward for you, my father. But you’re not my father are you. I’m just the boy you made into a murderer. But don’t fear. I will not spill your blood this night.”
Evander sheathed the dagger and pulled from his pocket a small vile. The emperor lay with his mouth slightly ajar and Evander poured the liquid into his mouth, the man’s efforts to prevent this were puny ones. “This is poison. It will cause you much pain. Most people would scream and writhe from it but I also slipped something in your wine before you sought your bed. So you’re paralyzed and must suffer in silence. But never fear. You will not be alone. I am going to sit right here and watch it happen.”
Evander took a seat next to the bed and watched the drug begin to take effect. The emperor’s eyes rounded and his back arched slightly, spittle formed at the corners of his lips. He made choking sounds only to be cut off by great gasps as he suffered quietly but Evander could see the pain that etched itself on his face. What kind of dark soul found pleasure in watching someone die like this? He pushed the question to the far reassesses of his mind for he had crossed that threshold from which there was no return long ago.
The thrashing and thumping against the floorboards woke him. Had he slept? He opened his eyes tiredly, feeling the bed at his back. That wasn’t right. He had been sitting in a chair to watch the emperor die. Turning his head he saw a woman lying gloriously naked in the floor beside him. Her body arched, her head thrashed banging against the floor boards, her arms were drawn up tight against her chest and her legs were stretched out from her, rigid in the throes of whatever claimed her. He watched her for a moment, wanting desperately to rise and at least hold her head to keep her from doing damage to it but found he could not. Despite his efforts his eyes grew heavy and darkness came on quickly to engulf him.
Evander looked about himself, searching desperately, but all he could see were the enemy and his fellow soldiers being cut down. Where was Caius? Had he already fallen under the enemy’s blade? It would be a good death to be sure but death none-the-less and though he had grown into a strong man and superb soldier he couldn’t help but see the little Milo in him.
Caius had Evander to thank for the higher position he now had, far better than a stable master.
He had his own horse in the Roman cavalry alongside Evander. After all, Evander knew an emperor’s secret. With that leverage it wasn’t hard to get Caius a position alongside him, a very good deal for a peasant. He could have been greedy with his requests but he only made that one, knowing full well if he made life hard for the new emperor he would himself become a target. Instead he took his position seriously, whether a part of his personal guard or as a soldier on the battle field, he had served both roles well and had earned a name for himself. The boy never asked questions, nor did the man.
After Claudius’s death it had been no secret among the nobles that Evander was a proficient assassin, a title he neither wanted nor desired. He had submerged himself among the other soldiers of the Roman army and tried to blend in. It had only worked for a short time before Nero had called him to take care of another problem, which Evander had declined. Now he was being punished, there was no other reason for him to be here, fighting for Parthia, killing as death sought him and all the men out on this battlefield.
Evander pivoted on his heal in time to sink his blade into the enemy whose blade was ready to take his own. It sunk in to the man’s gut to the hilt and with a quick thrust upward he ended his suffering. He had a job to do, which at the moment was to survive, but he saw no need to make those who had their own jobs to suffer. Withdrawing the blade, the man’s blood mingling with that of the others Evander turned again and slay another before the first could hit the ground. They surrounded him, surrounded all of them but he needed to find Caius, he had brought him into this nightmare and had to protect him. The young man would be quite irate that Evander thought of him thus, but he had saved the young man’s hide on more than one occasion because he looked after him so diligently.
Over the clash of swords and screams he heard it. Caius. He turned to the left, and then right, trying to pinpoint the call but it was lost in the fog. Fog? There had been no fog on the day of the battle. The enemy and his fellow soldiers had disappeared and he was in fog so deep he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face.
