by C. A Hines
“Alexandra...”
It was another faint voice... Or was it the same faint voice? She couldn’t tell anymore. She felt heavy all of the sudden. Heavier than she had ever felt before in her life. She slowly lifted her hand, fingers teaching outward and just like a flash it ended and everything came rushing back to reality.
“ALEXANDRA!” her father cried as she toppled over. The figure she had seen was nowhere in sight as she fell to her knees. Sweat dripped from her body and soon she felt her father’s arm bracing her. The noise. That terrible noise. It hurt so terribly and yet she couldn’t describe it, the sound as if the whole of existence rushed into her ears, thousands of voices, the clamoring of metal, yelling, arguing, bartering. She could hear it all. Feel it all. And then nothing. The sounds all receded and returned to normal, Alexandra breathing heavily.
“I-I’m fine. I just felt faint, Father,” she said, slowly working herself back into a standing position. The whispers were quiet now.
“Honestly, I’m fine,” she caught the concerned gaze of her father. Shaking her head slowly, she dusted herself off. “Let’s proceed to the Tullius abode. Uncle Caius will get bored if we leave him to watch the flock for too long.”
“Fine. We’ll go see Tullius, but you’re going to rest when we get there. No ifs, ands, or buts.”
“Oh very well, Father.”
Chapter III
The Palace of Gaius Marcellus Tullius was lavish and comfortable.
Granted, Alexandra wasn’t used to the protocol of the "higher classes," being a girl of relatively low birth. It was strange when the servants arrived to clean her feet before whisking her off to a warm, private bath. Gods, the Bath was amazing.
She didn’t know how they’d gotten the water so warm, nor how they’d made it smell so wonderful as little flower petals drifted by. A personal favorite of Tullius’ youngest daughter, Livia. The bath was comforting for Alexandra after the spell she had in the merchant square. It must have been exhaustion, given the fact that she had been working all day. She started to will herself to believe it.
The bath did wonders for her, and when she finally emerged, she was even provided a proper dress by the generosity of Master Tullius himself, they told her. It was an elegant dress, but the servants had to help her because Alexandra wasn't certain how wear it.
Definitely not what a Shepherd would wear.
The fine cotton and silk felt unfamiliar against her skin. Finery had never suited her, but Tullius insisted upon offering the gift and his servants hardly seemed like they could be dissuaded. Father always told her that to refuse a gift when offered was incredibly rude. So, she reluctantly accepted. In her life she found little worth in things she considered impractical or useless. Sure, there was value in the fine cotton she now wore, but it would quickly diminish under the hard labors of the life of a peasant girl.
“...a senator, then?”
A servant arrived shortly after her bath to inform her that dinner had been prepared. She walked slowly through the hall, never having seen so lavish a home in her life she lingered and took her time. The large villa was surreal to her, and she slowly stepped into the room in the midst of the conversation, doing her absolutely best to not interrupt.
Tullius lay sprawled upon his divan in a relaxed position as he swilled wine from a golden chalice. Her father stood opposite him, a brow arched.
“Sena—Oh! Yes! I had promised we would discuss that tonight, hadn’t I Good Petros?”
“Aye, you did.”
“Well, have a seat.” Tullius gestured to her father and just like he was still in the legion, Petros obeyed. He moved quickly and promptly seated himself across from his former leader. The two shared a glance while Alexandra quietly crept to one side, lowering herself onto a nearby seat as she waited patiently for their conversation to pass. Her eyes drank in the intricacies of the villa. The fine marble floors and the impluvium centerpiece taking her attention for a moment before glancing to the compluvium. The opening in the roof allowed a view of the sky above. She could only imagine what it must look like at midday. Artwork and statues decorated the atrium that surrounded them, servants cycling in to provide wine and refreshment when needed. Her slender fingers picked at a few grapes, tossing them in her mouth quickly.
“As you said, the Imperial Senate was dissolved ... fuck... What was it? Thirty years ago now? Gods, it feels like it was so long ago.” Tullius grinned, taking a massive swig of wine. “And as you know, Emperor Septimius Sextus abolished the whole damn thing and assumed emergency powers, reinvigorating the dictatorship. As you might also know... We promptly wound up at war.”
Alexandra quirked at the word war. Was this to be a war story, then? She drew her legs in close to her body as she sank into the cotton padding of the most comfortable sofa she had ever sat upon. It was akin to sitting upon a cloud, covered in fine silk. Such a seat was far too luxurious for her. It was fit for a king, perhaps, or maybe even a God. A servant came by, Alexandra quickly snatched another grape from the serving boy and popped it into her mouth.
“Yea, a bloody war, too,” her father said as Tullius nodded in agreement.
“Aye. A lot of good men were lost, Petros. Your sons included. They died well.”
Petros nodded, a simple sign that the man appreciated even those little words.
“When Emperor Septimius went and died in the Battle of Three Armies, ten years ago, he left the Eternal Throne empty. Now, Septimius was the sort that thought he’d live forever and actually believed his throne was to be eternal, so he never selected a successor. Long story short, as far as the Empire is concerned, the Imperial Blood went extinct. Nobody can scrounge up enough of a birthright to inherit the throne, and with the Senate abolished, we’re sort of ... well, stuck. There’s talk that a Bastard of the Emperor still lives, but nobody has been able to find them. Our fine Latin cousins in Italia went and declared themselves Kings and Lords in the absence of the Emperor, and now fight among themselves.” Tullius paused, downing the last of his wine and allowed a servant to bring him more. “Fine idea, really, if it weren’t for the fighting part.”
“Aye, so how is it that you’ve come to call yourself a senator, then?”
“Well, that is the best part. There is no longer a central government, and yet we still continue to send our young men off to war. No more. The quality and the local Legion commander have taken it upon themselves to reconstitute order. Since a peace with the Shahzad cannot be negotiated with the absence of a government. The Merchants, The Stone Masons, and the Collegium Pontificum, all agree that it is time for a change. Naturally, we needed representation and so, ever the civil servant, I offered my name.”
There was tension in the air that even Alexandra could sense. Her father didn’t show it, but he was displeased. His weight shifted and he eyed Tullius as if the man had just stabbed the Emperor himself. It was treason, what Tullius described, and everyone knew it. Even if the war dragged on, it was better to be destroyed than to surrender. That was the hard line the Legion had taken, and that was what they intended to do. Military rule was pretty clear cut like that.
“The Most Serene Republic of Arkadia. We’re on the precipice of a reawakening. The Shahzad Empire has agreed to acknowledge our existence, and their emissaries arrived earlier this evening while you were selling your wares. It was good fortune I saw you when I did, Petros.”
“Are you mad?”
“Pardon?”
“You’ve broken your vows, Tullius. You’ve forsaken all that we sacrificed, all that we built. I can understand that, and even accept it... But you've invited them into the city walls?”
“Yes, what of it?”
“You weren’t there. You weren’t there when Larissa fell, at the Summit.”
“Yes, and? I was injured and recovering in Athens.”
“In Larissa, the Emperor sought peace. He invited the Shahzad’s men into the city. Something terrible happened there. Mark my words, you’ve invited death upon
this city and now you’ve brought me and mine into it, you damned fools!”
Alexandra felt terror the likes of which she had never felt as her father lunged from his seat. His demeanor and his words scaring her,
“Alexandra!” he barked, his voice full of panic “Hurry up! We’re leaving!”
“Petros! See reason! This is a new beginning!” Tullius tried to shout after them. His voice faded further behind them as she clutched onto her father’s hand. Panic stirred in her breast as they rushed through the halls of the Tullius villa. Her father looked furious and his hand clutched onto hers, practically dragging her along. There was no peace to be had with the Shah.
They tumbled through the wooden doors, the warmth and comfort inside, giving way to the cold and darkness. The sky filled with black clouds more ominous than any Alexandra had witnessed in her time. A screech echoed through the air as the entire sky suddenly grew brighter, as if the sun had suddenly rose within the sky. In the distance, people screamed in terror as a hand of molten rock and fire pierced the cloud cover. All Alexandra saw through the cloud cover was the faint, fiery outline of a massive figure, a hand swooping through the clouds as the behemoth sent flaming rocks soaring through the air. She cried out as her father’s arms suddenly wrapped around her and they were thrown back from the force of the impact as one such flaming rock collided with ground with an explosive force.
In one fell swoop, that center of Tripolis was obliterated with a force few men alive had seen. Fire and lava rushed through the streets, burning those alive unfortunate enough to be too close to the site of the impact of the monstrous beast’s large hand. Magma boiled from the cracks of its rocky flesh as the hand withdrew and disappeared into the sky once more. The alarm bells rang furiously throughout the city as with the center of the city had been lost to the fires of destruction, citizens ringing the muster bells in a frenzied panic. The Legion was quick to muster from its garrison as the centurions blew their whistles with as much force as they could, soldiers pouring into the streets as they marched toward their defensive positions. In the distance the figure was a clear silhouette upon the dark clouds, outlined by the fire and magma which was its blood. It was a creature wrought of foul magic that stood taller than any man, lording over the city like the Titans of old. Lava snaked through the streets like tendrils now, stretching out and spreading while people fled en masse.
“Run!” her father screamed. She obeyed, rushing forward with all the strength she could gather in her small legs, following behind his larger form as they bolted away from the city center. Tullius, in his shock, stood upon his balcony as his chalice of wine slipped from his fingers. Fire and brimstone fell upon his palace to end the life of the senator.
“W-what is it!?”
“It’s old magic!!”
Magic? Surly her father was speaking in jest? There was no way those old stories could have been true. But surly now as she lived and breathed, did she not see a fearsome Titan laying waste to Tripolis? She felt a renewed sense of urgency to run.
This is just like your dream. The voice that was not a voice whispered within her. A shudder rolled through her body and she gripped her father’s hand tighter.
I can stop this...
She shook her head! This couldn’t be real. None of this could be real! Her dreams—the massive beast—the fire—the death. No! She was certain she must have fallen asleep back in the Tullius baths. That had to be it!
This is no dream, child.
“Father!” Alexandra cried, the pain in her legs creeping up as she coughed. Her lungs burned as they exerted themselves, the ash and ember from the burning buildings making it difficult to breathe. In the distance, thunder caused the entire ground to quake and tremble beneath her feet. In her head, a constant, steady, drumming. A cadence like the beating of a heart, growing louder and louder.
“I can’t...!”
“You must!”
She found the strength within herself to keep running, pushing through the streets. The beast behind unleashed another fearsome roar as more lava and fire spewed forth into the city. The screams of the people filled the air. The Legion commanders barked orders as Ballista fired their payload, sending giant bolts soaring through the air. Some of the massive bolts even had chains wrapped around them intended to snare a large target and bring it down. Many missed, though some hit their marks as a deafening screech reached Alexandra’s ears followed by more flaming rocks crashing into the walls of Tripolis.
“We’re almost there!”
Her father’s voice provided much needed encouragement to keep her running. The sky had grown black with ash falling for miles around. Thick plumes of black smoke bellowed into the air from the smoldering buildings that created black clouds which lay heavy over the city. Soon, Alexandra and her father found themselves flanked by a mighty crowd of people fleeing the city in a panic. The gate was open, as the escaping citizens before them found a way to jam the device.
“F-father! There’s still people...”
“Just keep running!”
“We could go back for the cart and the donkey and help people!”
Her father didn't counter her argument as a large flaming rock zipped behind her, only to explode on the high stone tower that mounted one of the city’s many Ballista.
“COME ON!”
She didn’t need any encouragement that time. The fear and adrenaline kept her running now as embers danced through the air and stone crumbled and collapsed to the ground below.
You need only ask, child, and this can end. You could save them. You could save them all.
The voice mocked her. Tempted her. It offered her promises of peace, glimpses of salvation to her mind and memories of a time long past. It also reminded her of her dream. The dream she decided to keep to herself. The dream which left a city in ruin. The dream in which she was consumed by darkness.
Alexandra shook her head. Running. Always running. She never stopped running, chasing her father she clasped his hand with her smaller one.
They’d cleared the city, cleared the refugee camp and still they ran. She could barely see as the ash choked the air around her, paining her to breathe. The fine dress Tullius had given her was thoroughly tarnished during her escape.
Others fleeing bumped into her, jostling her around though she dared not release her father’s hand. The ground continued to tremble. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed only darkness, the ash dancing through the air like snow. The faint flickers of a distant light bursting through the darkness as the battle against the titanic beast raged on within the city.
“Just like the dream," she whispered. The trembling of the earth grew closer.
“Hurry!” her father cried. She knew how this dream ended. Darkness. A never-ending, all consuming darkness. She had seen it before, felt it before. She had lived this moment so many times throughout her life. A thousand times she lived this moment and it never changed. This would be the end for her.
She tried to cry out. Tried to muster a reply to her father, but she found herself unable to put words to purpose. All she could do was run. Run and pray to whatever God might be listening that salvation would deliver them from this apocalyptic nightmare. The darkness gave chase, rushing toward them.
“I’m scared!” she finally managed, though her voice was lost in the chaos of the battle. The noise grew louder and the people around her all clamored for reprieve. Some shouted final curses, others called to the Gods to save them, while others screamed for their Messiah as The darkness consumed them. She didn’t see what happened to those who fell into the fog, but she dared not stop long enough to find out.
You were but a child in the dream. Do you remember? The whispering voice plagued her, gnawing at her thoughts, and yet it brought an illuminating truth. She had been only a child in the dream. Why was this different? She wanted to know, but at the same time, the idea of being roasted alive hardly appealed to her.
“We’re almost there!” her father screamed
. She could feel the sensations her dreams had prepared her for. The pain gripped at her legs, biting into the muscles, while the ash filled her lungs, making it difficult to breathe. Cold. She felt cold. A cold that pierced the flesh and gnawed at the bone. This was the climax to her dream, the final act.
She had seen this a thousand times. Her hand felt weak, her fingers loosening as her chest heaved. The absence of the sun became present in her mind. She was too cold. Too weak. Too sore. Nothing had changed from her dream. The whispering voice lied to her—she was still a little girl, even if she thought of herself as older. There was only one word to describe her now. Powerless. The mists of darkness swirled around as she attempted to breathe, though the ash blocked all relief. Her resolved faded, fingers loosening.
“Hold on!” her father’s distant voice echoed faintly. She loved him. She loved him for all that he had done, for all that he had provided for her. He was the best father she could have possibly had, but even she knew she was slowing his own escape. She would let go. It would be a good death for her, to die with dignity so the one she loved might escape. The darkness enshrouded her, like the embrace of an old friend. That’s what it was by now, the feeling an all too familiar one as her fingers slipped free of her father’s. This was it. This was goodbye. Her eyes closed and she allowed herself to be embraced by the darkness
“I’m sorry...” she whispered between gasping breaths. Her chest burned and her legs allowed her to run no farther as she came to a halt. She opened her eyes again, still able to see the outline of her father ahead. Collapsing to her knees, she watched breathlessly as he struggled against the wave, fighting to reach her, but the mob would allow him no reprieve. The fleeing mass of human flesh, however, seemed to simply part around her until finally, her father was gone, and her eyes shut once again.
