by Gwynn White
Her body grew cold from blood loss and shock. Her energy was spent. She felt the death throes even now. Everything she had feared would happen had come to pass, and now she had lost Lucius. Even if he came back, Clarius would force her to punish him for breaking eternae law. She had been selfish and cruel to make her lover watch. And all because just once… just once she didn’t want to die alone surrounded by her enemies.
She closed her eyes to the world and prayed to the old gods to never wake her again.
19
The Veil of Time
Sicily
February 21, 1723
Clarius is a monster!” Aurelia exclaimed. “Why did you never tell me all this?”
“I wanted to keep as much of it from you as I could back then, Aurelia.” The Prima Vita’s voice was soft, as it had been during the telling, as though to speak in whispers made it more bearable.
“But why? I would have—”
“You might have run away, Aurelia,” Lucius interjected, his voice gentle.
“I couldn’t have had that,” Petra said. “I needed you. We needed you. But I knew then as I know now what it has cost you. I have always been aware of the danger I put you in every time Clarius came to us at Vellessentia. I hoped his fascination with me would never waver or lean toward you.”
“And if it had?”
Petra shook her head. “I don’t know, Aurelia. He is stronger than all of us. I have only ever had one power over him—a power that is both a weakness and a strength—and that is my Prima Sanguis.”
“You forget one more, Madame,” Aurelia said, looking from her to Lucius.
Petra raised an eyebrow, disbelieving there could ever be anything else.
“The loyalty of those who love you. Lucius. Cassian. Me.” Aurelia wondered where Cassian was at this moment. She knew it unlikely he’d be in bed at this hour. Of all the Essentiae immortals, he was the most guarded, the most reclusive. He had always been thus. Cassian often wandered the deserted Sicilian shores late at night—doing what, God only knew.
Petra laughed. “You and Lucius maybe. Cassian… I think not.”
It was Aurelia’s turn to shake her head. “He loves you, my lady. Even when he doesn’t know how to show it.”
“You think that if it eases your mind.”
Petra smiled graciously at her, but Aurelia was not fooled by her flippant dismissal. She knew as well as the rest of them did that Cassian wouldn’t hesitate to lay down his life for her. For any of them.
“Lucius?” Petra asked, a frown creasing her forehead as she leaned toward him. “When I… drew you during the Aeternitescentia, I saw a man in your memories. A man that you killed…”
Lucius shook his head. “That is a story for another time, Petra.”
By the way he said it, with a blunt finality in his tone, Aurelia knew he would not speak further about it. For a painful moment, they both watched as the questioning in Petra’s gaze dissipated into frustration, but he refused to speak again.
After several moments of silence, Aurelia couldn’t bear it anymore. “What happened after you…?” she began.
“Died?” Petra finished, looking grateful that Aurelia had changed the topic, as if she didn’t truly want to know Lucius’s answer after all. “I awoke to a home that was an empty echo of what it once had been. Lucius was gone by the time I opened my eyes, as you may well remember.”
The lady glanced over at him, and the look passing between them brought tears to Aurelia’s eyes. Lucius reached up, and with the lightest of touches, trailed a thumb across Petra’s cheek. He whispered to her, but Aurelia didn’t catch it. A lover’s apology, perhaps?
For a moment, they were lost in each other, and Aurelia watched them. She had always thought of them this way. Never each alone but always as part of a whole that could not be if they were not together. And, yet, she had known them to be apart through the years. She had been there to witness Petra’s longing when he would go away from her each Vellessentia. To see that pain, to witness it, was agonizing. Aurelia couldn’t fathom what it would be to live it—not just once but for ages upon ages. Their greatest beauty was something they would never see. Only those surrounding them could. It was the moment when they were looking at each other, when the world fell away, and they were the only two people on Earth.
Petra shook herself from her lover’s gaze and smiled sheepishly at Aurelia. “Where was I?”
“Upon waking after the Vellessentia of 1345…?” Aurelia reminded her.
“Ah, yes. My cries for Lucius woke you that first morning of your immortal life, Aurelia. I know I frightened you, and I am sorry for it.”
“I do remember, but I was so young, and my memory will never come close to matching yours.”
“Count yourself blessed in that regard, young one.” Petra’s laugh was soft, and she exchanged a smile of amusement with her lover.
“I certainly do,” he said.
“Where did you go, Lucius?” Aurelia asked. “You were gone so long.”
He glanced at Petra, then, but did not respond. Yet, the answer was there in the air between them all, thick as it was with the veil of time and sadness.
Part III
1346
Kaffa, Crimea
20
The Search
Genoa
July 28, 1346
Petra moved as one dead through the marketplace. Genoa, Italy was a city-state of bustling markets filled with sea-bass and mackerel strung up in the shops and carts overflowing with various cheeses, shellfish, honey, and barley grain. Even the famous Genoese lace and blue jean fabrics fluttered in the on-shore breeze of the womens’ carts. The scent of freshly dropped donkey manure was the only thing that caught a moment of her attention. She had left Aurelia home on this excursion and took no servants with her. She wanted to disappear in the crowd.
It wasn’t wine or bread or jewels from exotic lands she looked for. No, it was Lucius. It was the hopeless hope she might accidentally run into him here. She was desperate to tell him all was forgiven, to ask him if he would ever forgive her. She wanted him to draw from her, to take her into him and dissolve her utterly into his body. He had been gone far too long. Nearly a year and still no word of his whereabouts, despite all the spies she had sent out looking for him.
As long as Petra had known him, he had never revealed where he would go when he left her during the Vellessentiae. She asked him countless times, but he would never say. What worried her most were the rumors of a deadly illness sweeping down Asia and across Rus. Her first thought was to worry Lucius might catch it. Her second thought was the reassurance he was an immortal. Her third thought was that if she had no idea where he was, she wouldn’t be able to save him in time if he were dying in some stranger’s bed on the far side of the world.
She stopped in the middle of the milling throng and raised her fingers absently to her lips, thinking. How could she get word of him? They had both moved through the world as apparitions, never staying in any one place too long. These days they favored the rich wine country of Genoa though they would soon have to leave again as they had already been here for twenty years. It was far from their old villa they kept in Rome and even Clarius’s ancient villa in Tivoli. They knew not a single soul abroad these days. If Lucius died somewhere without her, he would be lost forever.
She shook her head, unable to fully contemplate the thought.
“Ferox, tell Adrianus about the Genoese soldier you met in Kaffa, Crimea. You won’t believe it,” Petra overheard a man say over near the fish stall. “He calls him ‘the Immortal.’”
Petra immediately glanced up at the man who spoke. The gruff-voiced, bearded man wore the fine fabrics of a foreign goods trader, complete with a chain of gold around his neck and bags of spices tucked under each arm. Judging by his features and sun-kissed coloring, she knew he must be Genoese, but his accent had the lilt of something foreign in it. Looking more closely at the garb of the three men, she figured they all must be m
erchants.
“That is what the Kaffans called him. He was more than an ordinary man—that I can tell you.”
Petra moved closer, hiding behind the wall of the shop as the men gathered near the displays of shrimp and squid. She wanted to hear every word of the merchant’s story. She dared not hope they spoke of Lucius, but she couldn’t help herself. She had to know for sure.
Ferox cleared his throat, leaned in, and began his tale. “So, I, too, heard tell of a Genoese who recently sailed to Kaffa on a spice run when I voyaged there late last year. The tales I heard seemed far-fetched, but as I made my way into the city to buy some cumin and coriander, I saw the man myself. I knew he was the Immortal the moment I laid eyes on him.”
“Was he a soldier or merchant?” Adrianus, a short, stocky fellow with greying hair, asked Ferox.
“I don’t know, but if he wasn’t a soldier, he should have been. What an asset to have in war. I would send him to the front lines to lead the charge if I were one of the great generals of Europe.”
“Why so?” asked Adrianus.
“I will tell you what I saw, and then you will know,” Ferox said. “The citizenry of Kaffa all gathered in the main square to watch him that day.”
“Watch him do what?” Adrianus interrupted.
“Wait for it,” the third man said, exchanging knowing smiles with Ferox.
“This man was taking beatings by anyone who would come forward. He was stripped to the waist. If you had seen what he looked like… Welts everywhere. Blood pouring from wounds that would have killed any other man. Scars crisscrossing his body. Yet, the man felt no pain.”
Petra slapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. No, it couldn’t be Lucius. He wouldn’t… But she had hurt him deeply. She saw it in his face after he stabbed her. And she told him to leave. What had she expected? He was only honoring her request.
“Why? Why would he do such a thing?” Adrianus asked, his voice rising into a higher pitch.
“For money, of course! What else?”
Petra had no idea what to think. Would Lucius be so foolish? So reckless? She had no way of knowing unless she saw this “Immortal” with her own eyes.
She strode over to the men. “Forgive me, Signori, but I overheard your fascinating story. The man you spoke of… is he still in Kaffa, do you think? That is in the Crimea, is it not?”
The men looked her up and down suspiciously. It was not customary for women to approach a group of men in such a way.
Ferox smiled, curiosity and lust alighting his eyes as he looked her up and down. “I believe he is, Signora. Do you know this man?”
“I am not sure. Do you happen to remember the color of his eyes?”
Ferox seemed surprised by the question. “If I recall rightly, he seemed to have strangely colored eyes like yours, but I don’t remember the exact color.”
Petra silently screamed. It had to be Lucius. The man must have noticed the silver of Lucius’s eyes, a clear indicator it was time for him to come home to her.
“Do you know of any ships sailing for Kaffa from the port of Genoa?” she asked Ferox.
“Yes, I’m a sailor aboard the galley Athena. We sail with the morning tide.”
“I need to book passage.”
“You alone?” he asked, obviously scandalized by the notion.
“And one manservant,” she quickly added, though she had no intention of bringing anyone.
“Ah. You would need to send your servant to the port and have him ask for Captain Gratian. But the ship is full of cargo, Signora. There is likely no room for passengers.”
“I have no doubt the captain will accommodate me, Signore,” she replied, and took her leave of the men, who stared after her, mouths agape.
After paying Captain Gratian an exorbitant amount of money, Petra boarded the galley Athena alone that night under cover of a hooded cloak. She went straight to her cramped cabin, and there she foolishly let her fears consume her, let her mind go mad with the possibility that Lucius had meant to leave her for all time. She went from berating herself for pushing him away to anger that he would leave her for Clarius to do with as he would. She spent her first sleepless night aboard the Athena oscillating between wanting to draw the life out of him and wanting to make love to him.
When the images of Lucius started to surface as her mind drifted into a half-sleep, she let them come, grateful at least for tonight that she had the ability to conjure him up before her in such exquisite detail. She imagined him lying beside her, his warm skin a welcome reprieve from the cold winds outside and the scratch of the woolen blankets surrounding her.
“Lucius,” she whispered, “I am coming. Wait for me…”
The following day, the sailor Ferox caught sight of her as she emerged from below deck.
“Signora, you made it aboard.”
“As you see.” She inclined her head to him. In the shock of morning sunlight, he appeared a little older than she had first thought. Late 20s or early 30s, she figured. He had a handsome face with a strong jaw and warm brown eyes, though his body was thin and wiry.
“Stop your gawking and get back to work, the lot of you,” yelled Captain Gratian, a portly man with a shock of white hair and a giant nose.
It was then that Petra noticed they had all stopped to stare at her, even the men hanging from the lines above.
“There is to be no addressing the lady during our sail. If you do, I’ll leave you at the next port.” All the sailors immediately went back to their work, though they still snuck glances her way. It wasn't every day an average sailor caught sight of an immortal with eyes that could take your breath—and life—away.
“Thank you, Captain Gratian,” she said.
He bowed to Petra, obviously taken with her beauty and fine clothes and jewels. She had brought all her most expensive jewelry and finest fabrics, and had her servants sew more jewels and coins into her cloak, as she had no idea what or who she would come across in her travels. Petra wanted to travel light and be ready for any eventuality.
As she moved aft to a far corner of the deck, Petra held up to the light the one thing she was never without: her phial of mortanine. Though she rarely traveled alone without Lucius, the poison was an extra safeguard beyond her own skills. Lucius had also insisted centuries ago that they both learn to defend themselves, so through the years they trained with various sword and bow masters. Petra held her own against Lucius when they trained. He was stronger by far, but she was faster and slightly defter with the blade. These days, she always traveled with the dagger Lucius had given her.
Petra watched the men close-haul the sails and tack against the stiff, warm winds drawing in from the east. It was a magnificent morning, but she took no pleasure in it. Always on her mind was Lucius. She didn’t want to admit to herself the real reason for her worry, but she couldn’t help the fear that took over, making her clutch the phial of poison more tightly. She feared he was already dead, that he would leave her to this world for an eternity without him.
With her own family dead for millennia, and only servants to punctuate their endless lives, she relied on Lucius most. Yet, now there was Aurelia, which was a comfort. But in the face of Lucius's loss? A shiver ran up her spine, and she pulled her cloak's hood closer around her neck. And Clarius? Clarius who had taken her to heights of madness and anger? Who had stolen her youth, murdered her mother? What was he to her now? A necessary means to an end. A madman she could quell with an ounce of her blood. Her immortal enemy.
She and Lucius had yet to discover the secret of her blood. Without this knowledge, they couldn’t hope to extricate themselves from Clarius and his eternae without a bloodbath. She had seen it in Clarius’s mind so clearly. And with her antiqua memoria, she couldn’t forget even if she wanted to. Whenever her mind went back to the thoughts of hatred she had glimpsed in Clarius’s mind, she would conjure up Lucius lying beside her, and remember with perfect detail any words of love he had ever said to her. Yet it w
ould only keep her worries at bay for a time, and her dread would come back with a vengeance.
Ferox lumbered down the deck near to her, and after realizing the captain was on the other side of the ship, she got his attention with a smile.
“The man you spoke of yesterday in the market—the man in Kaffa—did anyone mention his name?”
“I heard many names, Signora. Some called him a god. Others called him a saint. Still others named him “the Immortal.”
“No true forename?”
“No, Signora. I heard none spoken.” He glanced around beyond her. “No manservant?”
Her smile was stiff. “No, he could not come after all.”
For an instant, the man’s smile held a hint of lascivious intent.
“Ferox!” Captain Gratian shouted. “Get back to work.”
When Ferox glanced back at Petra, his warm smile had returned.
She clutched at the mortanine hanging between her breasts, realizing that she had only one other phial sewed into her cloak. She would have to use it as a last resort. If she killed them all, there would be no one left to sail her across the Sea.
Petra thought again about the Immortal Ferox had spoken of. She was well aware she may be on a fool’s errand, yet who else but Clarius and Lucius could take such a beating and survive? If the man had done it for money, then he obviously knew such violence could not ultimately hurt him. But for money? She knew neither Lucius nor Clarius needed it. Both of their eternae, Clarius’s growing Sanguinea and her Essentiae, were beyond wealthy, having either worked for or stolen any money or land they needed over the centuries.
Clarius was, of course, reckless enough to do something so foolish. But Lucius? He had a steady mind and heart in all things apart from her.
After an increasingly rough day at sea under heavily reefed sail through a massive storm, she decided to turn in early when the winds finally died down. She had just pushed her stateroom door open when a dirt-caked hand reeking of ale and grease clamped over her mouth. She knew without seeing it was Ferox. He pushed her into the cramped stateroom and slammed the door behind them.
