Ruin and Rebirth

by Michael Whitehead

  Regulus reeled back on his heels, he placed a hand on the floor of the temple and saw, with no surprise, that it came away red with blood. He had been wrong about this old man. He had always assumed that he was the enemy, that he was allowing the power behind the doorway to escape. Viddus had told him as much in a thousand veiled threats and insults. Now it seemed that was not true.

  This was a being on the edge of insanity. His mind was tossed and blown on a sea of decay and dilapidation. The fight against the ancient ones had torn him asunder. How much had this moment of clarity cost him? How much of the damage and degeneration in the temple had been caused in the attempt to bring Regulus here and make him understand.

  “What do you want from me?” Regulus asked him.

  “You are the key to the door.” Viddus hissed at him. “With you the door can be opened or locked for ever. You have been given the power to release the ancient ones or bar them from your world.”

  “So if I come to you, I might bring about the end of the world?” Regulus asked, his voice shaking with the shock of what he was hearing.

  “The world is ending, whether you come or not. Nothing I can do can stop that now. The souls of the dead are corrupted and out of my control. If you come you might free the ancient ones, it is true, but your presence here is the only thing left that can save mankind.” He pushed back his hood and Regulus saw the same destruction that he had seen in the walls of the temple, but on his old face. Lines, like cracks in rock split Viddus’ skin and a thousand years of ruination showed in his features. The eyes held something different, however, they were filled with sympathy.

  Regulus watched the face change, the sanity left the eyes and the hatred and malevolence he had seen on so many visits to this place returned. Gone was the being who had spoken so openly just moments before and in his place stood the embodiment of rage. Whatever it had cost Viddus to speak to him, the effort had finally taken its toll and the corruption had returned to him.

  “Be gone from this place, child,” Viddus spat at him. He cast his hand toward Regulus, like he was hurling a spear. A shard of ice cold pain hit the boy in the chest and he cried out. A second spike hit him in the head and he clutched himself in an attempt to protect his mind. He screamed at the man before him to stop, but only laughter came back to him. Viddus advanced, one shuddering step at a time. Regulus fell to his knees and clutched at his head.

  He awoke, lying by a fire, surrounded by his friends. He pressed his hands to his eyes and lay in the darkness, shaking with shock. Beside him Lucia turned in her sleep and lay one arm across him. Regulus was racked with uncontrollable shivers, like a man who cannot escape the cold.

  He did not see Vitus watching him from his place in the darkness. It was his turn to guard the camp and he saw the young boy who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and tears filled his eyes. He could not hope to understand what was happening to his friend but he would help in any way he could. He would carry the burden if fate allowed him to but until that time, he would help Regulus bear it.

  Out in the darkness, the undead moved across the empire, out across the world. The gods looked down on the living and dead alike. They did nothing, they did not even raise an eye to the plight of men and if that was so then mankind would have to defy the gods and stand for themselves.

  Chapter Seven

  The village was set back against a high rocky cliff face in the shadows of the Alps. Three days had passed since they had left the farmhouse. Even from the road that passed within a stones throw of the outlying houses, it would have been easy to miss. A hedge of cut shrubs had been placed across the spur road that led into the village, and only by luck did Gallus stumble on it as he stepped off the trail to relieve himself and noticed the double dirt track formed by wagon wheels.

  It was the weather that caused the group to turn and head toward the village. Even at this low level, the temperature was beginning to cool noticeably. High in the mountains the clothes they had taken from Rome just would not be enough to keep them alive. They needed to equip themselves for the journey into Germania, otherwise they might have passed the village by without going near it at all.

  They entered the settlement walking in the middle of the road, swords drawn and sense of danger tightened like a bow string. Three Risen saw them as they passed the first house, a low roofed rustic dwelling no bigger than an apartment in Rome.

  Vitus nocked an arrow to his bow string and took the lead creature high in the forehead. The arrow caught the sunlight as it appeared out of the back of Risen’s head like the crest of a centurion's helmet. The undead thing took two more steps, knees buckling as it came forward before crashing to the ground in a heap.

  Gallus stepped forward to take the second enemy. It leaped at him, coming at him high with arms outstretched like wings. He stopped and took two steps backward, the creature reached out and its hands missed his face by mere inches. A quick thrust downward ended the creature's days on earth.

  The third undead ran straight at Handan, she was no fighter and froze to the spot, cringing against the impact. Hakor reacted the fastest and kicked out at the monster as it came in low and fast. The blow was enough to send the Risen stumbling. It had enough sense left in its dead brain to reach out its hands to the ground but tripped and ended up sprawling.

  Lucia ran, hoping to put a quick end to the prone figure but it recovered quickly and reached out a hand to her. She swept her sword low in an underarm arc, cleaving the outstretched limb off at the elbow. Blackened blood slopped out of the severed end of the arm like hot pitch. The creature kept coming, unaware that it had lost an arm and reached out with its remaining hand, but fell onto its face when it tried to put the missing hand on the ground for balance. Lucia chopped down with the edge of her blade, like she was cutting wood with an axe. It was an effective blow and did the job of finishing off the Risen, but the trained men in the group winced at the damage such a blow would do to the sword. It would need to be sharpened when they next made camp.

  The fight had been loud and the group remained alert, waiting for more creatures to appear, attracted by the noise. No more enemies showed themselves however, and the group relaxed a little. The village was still and quiet with no sign of life, natural or otherwise breaking the silence. The houses looked like they had not been tended to in some time. Grasses grew up against doorways and the windows that weren’t behind shutters showed a thin layer of dust.

  Vitus spoke to them. “Split up. Hakor take Lee, Gallus go with Garic, Lucia you’re with me. The rest of you stay here and watch over our bags. We need warm clothing, and anything that might help us in the mountains, extra water, food and blankets. Please be careful.” The rest of the group shrugged off their packs and freed themselves for whatever might be waiting in the houses.

  The party went off in pairs and headed off in different directions. Vitus followed Lucia toward a house that was larger than most in the village. It had an off-white facade that was discoloured by a gathering of sand and dust.

  The door was unlocked and opened with a bit of pressure. The hinges creaked and Vitus thought once again, that the village felt like nobody had lived there for some time. He hoped that there would still be something useful left behind by the departed occupants.

  “Go slow, we stay together,” he whispered to Lucia, she turned and nodded to him before signalling to a door across the small atrium. As they moved across the tiled floor they left foot prints in the dust. If there was anybody in the house, undead or alive, then they had not crossed this hallway for some time.

  The door swung open as Lucia turned the handle, while Vitus stood ready to tackle anything that might attack from the room beyond. Nothing did, the room was empty and the furniture was all in place, but there was no sign of life. They checked for anything useful but found nothing that might aid their passage across the mountains.

  They moved from room to room, remaining silent until they had checked behind every door. They found no clothes but
did open a wooden chest full of blankets that they left in place until they were certain there was no more fighting to be done. They would retrieve them before they left the village.

  “This place is starting to give me a bad feeling,” Lucia said as they walked back down the stairs toward the open front door.

  Vitus nodded, “Something isn’t right here. There doesn’t seem to have been a fight, everything is too undamaged. There aren’t enough Risen about, although they might have moved on. It’s like the people who lived here left in good order but decided to leave everything behind.”

  “Exactly, why wouldn’t they take more of their things, if they had the chance to plan leaving?” Lucia asked as she stepped back out into the cold sunlight. Had Vitus been the first out of the door, maybe his training would have warned him that something untoward was happening. As it was Lucia saw the group that was guarding the bags but saw nothing wrong with the way they were all standing very still, almost in a line.

  “Walk toward your friends and don’t make any sudden movements,” a male voice, that sounded quite old, said behind Vitus as he followed Lucia outside. He risked a look behind him and felt the sharp point of a blade in the small of his back before he saw who had the better of him.

  “Do as he says,” Vitus said gently to Lucia who walked towards Atia and the rest of their friends without question. Vitus looked around him and saw, for the first time, at least half a dozen bows were trained on various members of their group. The archers were all quite old and were spread out so that they could not all be taken from behind if Vitus’ group had backup.

  From across the street Vitus saw both of the other foraging parties being led from the building they had been investigating, under an armed guard. Some of the captors held bows and others blades but one similarity was obvious, none of them were young. The youngest looking man had a grey beard and age showed in his eyes, and the oldest looked as if he had passed the age of fighting more than twenty years ago.

  Vitus and his friends were shepherded into the centre of the village and told to kneel. They did as they were instructed, Vitus noted that the men all remained calm, there was no anger among them.

  “Who are you? What do you want here?” the younger looking man asked.

  Vitus spoke for the group, “My name is Vitus Protus, before this all started I was an auxiliary in the 8th legion. Now, I’m heading out of Rome, toward Germania in search of my former legion. We came into he village in search of warm clothes before we cross the Alps.”

  The grey bearded man walked slowly around the group, taking them all in. “I’m sorry, I just don’t believe you. You look too much like the raiders to me.”

  “You mean the men on horses we saw a few days back? We barely got away from them, the group who attacked us were caught by a group of Risen,” Vitus answered from his knees.

  The spokesman walked close to one of the older villagers, who held a bow but didn’t have the string drawn. As the bearded man passed him the older man reached out to take his arm. He pulled the younger man in close so that the two might talk without being overheard.

  Vitus watched the two men and as they talked the older of the two darted his eyes to various members of Vitus’ party. First his glance fell of Atia and little Tulius and then he moved his eyes toward Lee and Handan. After a few moments discussion the two men separated.

  “Where are your horses?” the younger man asked.

  “We don’t have any. Half of the party can’t ride and besides, they are too scared of the undead if they get too close.” Vitus watched, and on hearing this answer the two men exchanged a further glance, the older man nodded in silent confirmation of their conversation.

  “Okay, get them up,” the bearded man said to his men. He turned to Vitus, “We want to take you to our council but we need to blindfold you, we can’t let you see where we are taking you.” As he spoke he reached behind him and pulled a length of cloth from his belt and showed it to Vitus. He had a look of regret on his face that reassured Vitus that the man meant no harm to his friends.

  “Do whatever you need to do, can I trust you to keep us safe from the undead?” Vitus asked.

  “You have my word, we haven’t lost a man to those things in over a month.” The bearded man reached around Vitus’ head from behind and tied the cloth tight across his eyes. Around him, Vitus could hear the same thing being done to his companions.

  In the time that followed Vitus became disorientated, he lost all sense of time, distance and direction. He was led by the arm and the grey bearded man spoke to him constantly. He told him where to place his feet and where he might trip or hit his head. Then after a climb up a rocky stretch of land they stepped inside and the quality of the sound changed. Echoes came back at Vitus off the walls and he was sure they were in a cave. It was not long after they entered the cave that the blindfold was removed from Vitus’ eyes.

  Blinking back the darkness until his eyes adjusted, Vitus saw they were in a passageway, the only light were from a couple of torches that were held by the man at the front and back of their line.

  “Follow me, it isn’t much further,” grey beard said to Vitus. There was no sense of hostility from the man and Vitus hoped this meant he trusted that he and his friends were no threat. People who felt threatened became afraid, and frightened people did foolish things.

  The passageway through the rock looked natural, so this was no mining shaft. The walls were irregular and in places the party had to turn sideways in order to pass through a particularly narrow point. Eventually, after several minutes of travelling downward, the cleft opened into a large cave. It was filled with people and Vitus felt his mouth open in astonishment at the life and community he saw before him.

  There was a whole village of people in this open space in the rock. Families made small homes around the edges of the cave, and in the middle all of the life of a village could be found. He could see farm animals and a bread oven, a blacksmith was beating something and as Vitus watched he placed it back into a small forge. The smoke from the furnace drifted up into the high ceiling of the cave and was whipped away by a fast breeze that was sucked into a large crevice and presumably into the open air. With the open fires and all the animals the air should be stale and dirty, but it was fresh and clean.

  “The council wants to see you straight away, we will feed your friends, if you will follow me?” the bearded man asked Vitus after the archer had stood and stared at the cave for a while. There was a smile on the man's face that told Vitus he was expecting the reaction and had seen it before.

  Vitus nodded and turned to see his friends were being well treated before following the bearded man down a slope and through a small opening to one side of the main cave. Ahead of them was a wooden door, the first part of this structure that Vitus had seen that was definitely man made. The bearded man knocked on the door and waited until a voice told him to enter.

  Inside was a small square room that, if it was not created by the hands of men, had certainly been finished by them. There were hangings on the walls and a carpet on the floor with religious symbols that Vitus couldn’t place. A large desk sat over against one wall, and stacks of wax tablets and scrolls were stored on a series of long shelves opposite the desk.

  In the middle of the room sat on ornate looking chairs were three people, two men in tunics sat on each side of a woman who was old enough to be Vitus’ great-grandmother. She was easily older than Lee’s grandfather who had been too old to make the journey out of Rome when they had escaped. Vitus felt a pang of guilt at the thought of the old man dying to allow him time to escape during the battle for the city.

  “Take a seat, please,” one of the men said. He was about the age of Vitus' father, when he had died, and had the same friendly look to his eyes that he remembered.

  Vitus took the offered chair and noticed that while he had been allowed to keep his weapons, the bearded man was still standing behind him and in easy reach.

  “We’ve had scouts wat
ching you for the last few days,” the second seated man said, he was older than the first and had a single scar across his forehead that met his hairline at the temple. The admission carried no threat, rather it seemed to Vitus to be an attempt to be honest from the outset.

  “They must have been good, we have four legionary men among our number and none of us spotted them,” Vitus answered. He was genuinely surprised at the news that they had been watched without them ever noticing. He also wanted these people to know that they were not an ordinary group of travellers of whom they could take advantage.

  “Yes, we know. We have a number of legionary men here in the cave. Some are retired and others have come down from Germania, through the Alps. There are a couple of those and we are yet to decide if they can be trusted, we fear they may be deserters,” the first man said.

  “Really, what makes you say that? The legions in Germania were among the first to fall, the men should be considered survivors rather than deserters, shouldn’t they?” Vitus said, deciding that he must speak to these men from his old legion before he and his companions moved on.

  “The 8th and 11th legions have not fallen, we have received word that they still hold out against the Risen, with the aid of Germanian allies.” It was the first time the ancient woman had spoken and her voice was stronger and clearer than her stature implied.

  “Truly?” Vitus asked, incredulous. In his time in Rome, he become convinced that there was no way his old legion could have held out for more than a few days. To hear that they still fought on against a foe that had managed to take the capital was both thrilling and unbelievable.

  “How do you know this?” Vitus asked.

  “We have people heading across the mountains, news reaches us from both north and south.”

  The ancient woman was dressed in robes that looked like the colour of cream on the top of milk, as the torch light caught it Vitus could see gold thread was woven into the trim around the collar.