Fire of the Inquisitor
Chapter 10

Titus sat watching the shadows dance in front of him as he wrapped his left hand in cloth. There was rustling in the walls of thorns surrounding him, something or someone was coming. Titus stole a peek over his shoulder in the guise of retrieving a blanket from his pack. Behind him the Marcus’s were resting in their gloom, one eating an unidentifiable piece of fruit and the other lying on the ground mumbling to himself. Then there was the mute child, the bluish grey pagan boy who the contubernium had found abandoned early on in the mission and adopted as a sort of good luck charm.

The luck had run out very quickly.

Titus picked up his sword and placed it by his side, waiting for whatever was coming to enter the small outcropping where they had made camp. He would have told his men to be on their guard, but their morale was virtually non-existent and he just didn’t have the heart to put them through any more misery. Let those men sized insects come, he would fight them to the death while his men fled like children.

Instead, he heard the voices of legionnaires arguing with each other in a panic. Titus stood up and held up one of the nearby torches so the men soldiers could see where they were headed. The first man he saw was Flavius, his would be second in command and the constant pain in his rear. He and two other men were carrying the unconscious body of a young soldier named Decius.

“What happened?” One of the Marcus’s rushed forward to help the men.

“We were attacked,” Flavius said.

“Obviously,” Titus said. He watched the four men laid out their injured comrade on some blankets the other Marcus had provided them.

“It wasn’t one of the bug folks decanus,” a soldier named Gratian said.

Titus took a closer looked at the incapacitated legionnaire, his skin was covered in black and red sores giving him the appearance that he had been burned, but his skin was ice cold to the touch. Despite this, the man was sweating rivers.

“What did this?” he said.

“We didn’t see it,” Gratian said. “I mean we felt it, but we didn’t see it.”

“What are you talking about?” Titus said. Decius started to moan and he was shivering as if he were freezing.

“Throw some blankets on him,” Flavius ordered. “What he means to say is that we were attacked by a phantom.”

“A phantom?” Titus said.

“Or maybe a ghost,” Gratian said.

“Would you shut up,” Flavius snapped. “We heard its call first, like a growl of a lion and we could feel its presence among us.”

“It walked in shadows,” Leo said, the third man soldier that had been with Decius said.

Flavius gave him a hard look but did not bother to berate him. “It brought a coldness with it, and a smell of death.”

Titus frowned. He thought back to the war and fighting against barbarians and their war creatures that produced the similar feeling of coldness.

“It confused us and separated us,” Flavius continued, “and when we thought that it would drive us into madness we heard Decius scream.”

“And you found him like this,” Titus said.

“Yes, decanus.” Flavius stared at him with an accusing look, like somehow all of this was his fault.

Maybe it was his fault. Titus kneeled next to his injured soldier and prayed for the man. It seemed like he was breathing all right and he had stopped shaking, but his moaning was growing worse.

“What do we decanus?” Gratian said.

“We have to leave to leave him,” Flavius said. “We have to get out of this thorn bush.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?” Titus said. “How long have we been trying to escape this place.”

“But decanus,” Flavius protested.

“There is no debate,” Titus stood up, “We stay here, we stay together and when the beast comes we face it together.”

All of the men nodded except Flavius, whose face had turned a familiar shade of scarlet.

“There is no use arguing Flavius, I’ve made up my mind,” Titus said.

“And look where your judgement has gotten us,” Flavius said. “You have already gotten three people killed.”

“You can’t blame him for that.” Gratian stepped in front of his captain. “And Lucia could still be alive, we didn’t see her die.”

Flavius gritted his teeth, but instead of arguing he turned to the goth boy who was watching silently as always. “You know who I do blame Gratian.” Suddenly he picked the boy off his feet and held him in the air. “I blame him,” he said shaking the child. The boy responded with the same look of apathy he always wore. “You hear me you pagan shit-eater, this is all your fault!”

“Put him down!” Titus said.

Flavius stared at him with blood in his eyes, but he did as he was told. The other men all let go of the breath they were holding and relaxed as much as they could. Flavius retrieved one of the torches they had made and were continually having to replace, and started walking back into the thorny maze.

“Where are you going?” Titus said.

“To look for water,” Flavius shook his head, “To look for food or for firewood, or whatever we don’t have.”

Titus nodded and watched the man leave the camp. The other men gave each other space and more importantly peace. Titus knelt again by Decius and watched as the young man slept in agony. Flavius wasn’t wrong and Titus knew it. He had gotten the two servants that had accompanied them killed and had let the brave young Lucia get separated from them. He knew he was probably going to get everyone else killed as well, but he knew that he was done running. They were going to fight this phantom like the imperial soldiers they were.