Ruin and Rebirth

by Michael Whitehead

  “Zombie? Is that the ancient one’s name?” Vitus asked. It was the first time anyone but Regulus had spoken in what felt like hours, maybe even days.

  “That was what he told me, before he let me go. Actually, I think what he did was banish me. I haven’t been back to the temple since we crossed the mountains. I’m not sure I could go back there, I still feel the push and pull of the place though.” Regulus shrugged as he spoke.

  “Don’t go,” Lucia said to him, coming out of a reverie.

  “What?” Regulus asked.

  “You said it yourself, you are powerless against this Zombie. He is too powerful and you shouldn’t go.” Lucia was raising her voice and Vitus held out a hand to quiet her, looking around him into the darkness and drawing his sword. She shrugged his hand away and carried on shouting at Regulus.

  “Why are you so determined to go to this place and kill yourself. These are gods and worse, you are just a man, and you’re my man. I won’t stand by and watch you suffer like this. Better that a horde of Risen run at us out of the darkness and kill us all now than that.”

  Regulus stood up, slowly. Lucia let out a sardonic laugh at him as he struggled to stand while talking about going to face gods and ancient spirits. He gained his feet and took both of her hands in his.

  “I have to do this. I can tell you about the things I’ve seen, the words I’ve heard but I can’t explain what I’ve felt. I don’t mean the pain, I mean the feeling that it is me who has to do this. Only me. I know it sounds insane. I’m just a boy, but if you had felt what I feel, you couldn’t deny it, Lucia. It is tearing me apart. Every day we spend getting to that place, is like another rent in my soul.”

  “It can’t be you, how can it? How can it be you, of all the people in the world, who has a chance to save us?” Lucia had tears streaming down her face.

  “I wish I knew,” was all Regulus could think to say. He reached forward and enfolded her in his arms, wanting to comfort her. She stiffened against him and then allowed herself to be held.

  Out in the darkness, something moved. Vitus made to step out of the light from the fire to intercept whatever it was, but Gallus held up a hand to stop him. He returned a moment later wiping black blood from his gladius’ blade.

  Lucia pushed herself free from Regulus’ embrace, stepping back out of his reach. She was sobbing, deep guttural breaths hitched from her.

  “Why? I love you, why must you do this?” She asked again.

  “I don’t know, Lucia. I wish I did. I wish it could be anyone else but me but it isn’t. I have to do this. I have to know what lies in that forest, and I have to know what will happen to me.” Regulus reached toward her, wanting to pull her toward him once more. She stepped away from him with a mixture of both longing and anger across her face.

  “I can’t watch you die, Regulus. I can’t stand by while you throw yourself into the fire.” As she spoke she moved out of the light, turned and ran from their camp. Regulus moved to follow her but Vitus held a hand to his chest to stop him.

  “I’ll make sure she comes to no harm, you stay here,” he said. Regulus looked pained but remained where he was, knowing he probably couldn’t catch Lucia if he tried.

  Vitus didn’t have to go far out of the camp in order to find Lucia. Experience told her that, even as upset as she was, she had to stay safe. Vitus turned her to him, taking her into his embrace. She sobbed into his tunic and he felt the wetness against his skin as her tears soaked through the cloth. Finally, after the longest time, she began to breathe steadily and he gently moved her away from him.

  “I love him, Vitus,” she said, the crying had made her voice thick and heavy.

  “I know that, everyone knows that,” he said forcing a smile onto his face.

  “Then why is he doing this?” she asked him.

  “Sometimes, we have no choice in these things. Sometimes we are chosen.” Vitus kissed her forehead.

  “What do I do? I can’t just watch him die,” she asked.

  “Who says he is going to die? He’s tough, as you well know.”

  “He’s looking to fight a god, Vitus. You heard what he said, the gods, the ancient ones. He’s just a man, a young one at that. He can hardly walk half of the time. I can’t let him face those things.”

  “Then don’t,” Vitus said. By the light of a thousand stars, Vitus saw her face change. Her anger was replaced by puzzlement and then a glimmer of hope.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “When the time comes for him to fight his fight, we stand with him. We don’t let him face this thing alone. We have been together from the start, and we'll stay together until we are forced apart.” Vitus watched resolve harden on her face as her youth made way to something harder. She nodded and turned back to the fire, leaving Vitus to follow in her wake.

  He arrived in the clearing to see Lucia step up to Regulus, and he stood before her looking small.

  “Where you go, I go,” she said to him, she crossed her arms across her chest, defying him to argue with her. Suddenly the beautiful, strong, young woman was gone and in her place stood a child, determined to get the sweet treat or extra time before bed.

  “I know that,” he replied.

  “No matter what happens, I’m coming with you,” she argued despite his acceptance.

  “I promise,” Regulus said, a smile spreading across his face at her indignation.

  She stepped into his arms and he pulled her toward him. They said nothing for the longest time, just held each other against the night and the coming storm. Finally she spoke in to the crook of his neck and shoulder. “I won’t let you go without me. If you have to die, then I die too.”

  “I don’t plan on dying, my love.” He spoke into her ear but the two men that bore witness to the scene heard his words. Vitus felt a blackness descend into his heart that was full of doubt and the promise of doom. Hope had no place in this new world, no place at all. If everything that Regulus said was as it seemed, hope was the last thing he would carry with him into a dark forest in Germania.

  The four travellers found their places round the fire once more, and each found themselves trapped in a world created by what they had just heard.

  Vitus stared into the flames and vowed to help his young friends in any way he could. He wished beyond all that he could carry the burden that Regulus shouldered and as he watched Gallus, he knew the legionary would be thinking the same thing. They were both men who found honour in service. There was dignity in giving your strength and sweat in aid of your country and your friends, but each knew a deeper secret; the most important man in the world was the one who stood next to you, who faced the enemy shoulder to shoulder with you. At this time and in this place, that truth was stronger than ever. Neither man would allow their friends to fall without falling themselves.

  Regulus looked across the fire at Lucia and knew a darker secret than the one he shared with Vitus. He knew that despite his promises, he would keep his own counsel about how he would face his enemy. He knew the people around him would die for him or with him, and he loved them for it. Despite, or perhaps because of this, he would make his own choices and when the time came, he would fight his battles in whatever way he deemed fit.

  He looked out into the darkness and it comforted him. It shielded him from the horrors of the world, the death and living death that had choked all the good from life. The world was emptying and what was left behind was nothing good.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The travellers hadn’t known what to expect when they reached Lucia’s estate. They had not spoken of it, mainly through the fear that any expectations they may have would end in disappointment.

  The road to the estate was relatively free of Risen, at least in comparison to those of Italy. The undead had drifted to the largest sources of food and so this area was almost empty of both the living and the undead.

  They walked through huge open grass plains gleaming with a dull silver glow in the dawn mist. Autumn ha
d a firm grip on this part of the world and the travellers wrapped up against the morning chill, only to find themselves removing furs and cloaks in the afternoon.

  As Lucia walked she found half forgotten images and long neglected memories coming back to her. She would round a copse of trees, see the landscape and a flash of a cart ride with her father would come to her. Then just as suddenly she would find herself in unfamiliar land once more. The fractured dreams of childhood.

  Eventually the land around her became so familiar that it made her heart begin to ache for the life she had lost. Her father, her nurse Rosa, and a thousand days in the sun, hunting, fishing and riding. Then, too quickly for her to stop it happening, they were walking up a road that crested a hill and the estate lay in the low valley before them.

  They all stopped, words lost to them. Of all the things they had expected this was not one of them. The farmhouse now stood in the middle of a fortress with large wooden palisades marking a boundary. Outside the walls, swaying golden seas of wheat stretched out into the wilderness beyond. Inside there seemed to be a complex of wooden buildings and tents.

  “What is it?” Lucia asked, unsure of exactly what she was seeing.

  “That,” Vitus said, pointing to the complex below them, “is a piece of Roman military genius. I think you’ll find that they have turned your estate into a fort.”

  “Who has?” she asked already knowing the answer.

  “Our old legion, my love,” Regulus said from behind her with a laugh “Look at the banners, the guards, the way the place is laid out. It’s a Roman camp, no question.”

  As she looked down the hill she could see soldiers standing in watch towers. Her eyesight was perfect and nothing about those guards told her that Regulus was wrong.

  “Why would they do that?”

  “I say there is one way to find out. Come on.” Vitus was already walking before he finished his last words and Regulus followed him, moving faster and freer than he had in a long time.

  Lucia shook her head in wonder at the sight and turned to shrug at Gallus. The legionary had remained silent and saw why; the big man had tears in his eyes. She couldn’t help laughing at him. He looked at her and a big beaming smile lit his face.

  “Honestly. Men!” she snorted, and turned to run after the two others.

  “Halt! State your name and business!” the guard in the high wooden gate tower shouted down to them. He was a young man, possibly even younger than Regulus had been when he had joined the legions. The uniform fitted badly, and Vitus suspected he had been a camp brat before the Risen had appeared.

  He brought the party up short, put down his pack and looked up at the guard.

  “Centurion Vitus Protus, formally of this legion, returning from Rome. I wish to see Governor Clemens.”

  “The governor is dead, sir,” the guard called down. Vitus noted the use of the word 'sir', but also that the gates were not opening.

  “Then let us in and we can talk to who ever is in charge,” he called up.

  “Centurion Bactus has given orders that nobody enters camp. Sorry sir,” the guard replied.

  “Boy, do yourself a favour and go and get someone a little older to talk to me. Better still, open the gate, let me in and then send for Centurion Bactus. This can only go badly for you if you don’t.” Vitus spoke in a kindly but stern voice. The kind of voice that said he would not be mad if the lad did as he was told straight away.

  The guard wavered for a moment, he half turned and then back again. He even shifted his helmet back on his head and scratched the scalp underneath. Vitus waited patiently and almost laughed when he heard Gallus growl behind him.

  “Steady man, give him time, he’ll get there in the end.”

  “I’ll string him up by his...” Gallus did not finish his sentence, however. The young guard was joined by an older man who called down and asked Vitus to identify himself. On hearing the answer he called down an order that they did not quite hear and the gates began to open.

  Once inside, the same man joined the newcomers in the gatehouse. He was older than Vitus by some years, with dark hair greying at the temples.

  “Centurion, I’m sorry for the behaviour of the lad. He’s not been in that uniform for more than a month, but times must.” The older man saluted as he spoke then gestured to a seat opposite the small desk in the middle of the room.

  Vitus smiled and took the offered chair, “No harm done, may I know your name?”

  “Nelius, sir. I have to ask, do you have an papers or identification with you?” but Vitus could see he did not really expect any to be forthcoming.

  “It wasn’t the first thing we thought of as we left Rome,” Vitus said as he gestured to his friends just outside the office door and a familiar face came into view as Bactus stepped into the office.

  “By the gods, Vitus! I was sure I would never see you again, man. Someone must be looking down on you,” the centurion said, picking Vitus up out of the chair and hugging him so hard he had trouble breathing.

  “You know me, Bactus. I’m nothing if not adaptable,” he replied as soon as Bactus had let him go. He remembered back to the time just after his own centurion and mentor Vespas had died, bitten by one of the Risen, and he had turned to Bactus for advice after he was promoted. The older man had been a great help and a friendship had been formed.

  “Did I hear you say you just left Rome? How is she?” but he must have seen the answer on Vitus’ face because he continued, “that bad?”

  “She’s gone Bactus. Overrun and ruined.” Bactus felt behind him for something to lean on.

  “Gone? They took Rome? How in Hades did they allow that to happen?” There was real anger in his voice.

  “Powerful men playing games,” Vitus answered. “Titus and Otho were both too stubborn to let the other have the city and because of that they let it be overrun. It's a sorry state of affairs indeed.”

  “Titus and Otho? Then it’s true, Vespasian is dead?” Bactus asked and Vitus started to realise just how cut off from the wider world these legions must have been throughout this whole thing.

  “He died months ago, my friend. I take it news hasn’t been travelling this far?”

  “We’ve had the odd traveller but in the main, no, we have had no news since you left the camp. It’s been a constant fight with the Risen, until a week or two ago that was. For some reason they seem to be leaving us alone.” The older centurion looked confused; as if this last part was something he had spent time pondering.

  “Less Risen has to be a good thing, surely?”

  “Not less, None at all,” Bactus answered.

  Vitus began to think about their journey through Germania. They had thought themselves lucky that they were encountering less Risen. They had assumed it was the large open spaces, lack of large settlements or a number of other reasons. Now it seemed they had just been witnessing a small part of a greater phenomenon.

  “Do you think this thing is over?” Vitus asked.

  “We’ve still seen the undead. It’s not like they aren’t around, they are just moving away and they’re all heading north. I’ve had men follow them but they just keep travelling north.”

  Regulus appeared in the doorway, looking more and more like a wild man rather than legion archer. His hair was long like the rest of them. He hid under his cloak, and his walking staff added to the look of a mage or priest of a distant land.

  “Sir, if I may?” Regulus asked, pulling his hood back from his face. The scar that had been left by the operation that had saved his life was still visible as a bald stripe down one side of his head.

  Bactus nodded, seemingly unperturbed by Regulus's appearance.

  “Did you say north?” the young man asked.

  “Straight as an arrow, all in the same direction,” the centurion answered.

  Regulus looked at his friend, an unspoken word passing between them, he nodded and turned to Bactus.

  “What passes for drink around here these days?” Vi
tus asked.

  “I have a bottle or two of a passible spirit in my quarters,” the older man answered with a smile. “You have quite a lot to tell me, my friend,” a statement rather than a question.

  “More than you could guess, and I assume you have a story or two to tell me as well?”

  “Some of them I’m not sure you would believe,” Bactus answered with a laugh.

  “You might be surprised. I presume you have somewhere for this pair to clean up and sleep?” indicating towards Lucia and Gallus.

  Gallus stepped forward slightly and said, “Sir, if it’s okay with you, I thought I would try to find my old century.”

  “You might find things have changed around here,” Bactus said, “but the freedom of the camp is yours.” The big soldier almost ran from the office, eliciting a further laugh from the older man.

  “I’ll have a bath prepared and a private tent readied for the young lady,” Bactus said and the turned to Lucia. “It’s good to see you again.”

  She nodded and allowed herself to be led away by the guard who had opened the gate.

  “Now, let us go and find that bottle and we can regale each other with ever more unbelievable tales.”

  Regulus followed the two men from the office, leaning on his staff and throwing the hood back over his head. Two weeks, the words had struck his mind like a hammer ringing a bell. The last time he had visited the temple had been almost two weeks ago. Everything had changed then. The ancient one had made himself known to him, and had broken through, or he was close to doing so. There was no other explanation for what was happening.

  The question that rang through the young man's mind was why. Why would Zombie draw the undead to him? They were his army, or so it seemed to Regulus, and it made no sense to withdraw them when they were doing so much harm to the living world. It was like a general sounding the retreat at the moment his army had the enemy on their knees.