Fire of the Inquisitor

It was all the fault of the decanus and Flavius saw could see it from the start. What kind of man allows a woman into his contubernium. Could he not see it was against the nature of war, against God’s design and they were being punished for it. If that wasn’t enough sacrilege for Titus he brought that pagan child into the camp. Flavius should have taken over leadership of the mission long before it had deteriorated this badly. He wasn’t going to let this go on any longer.

“No more!” he roared out loud for God to hear him. He just wanted to hit something, he needed to hit something.

Flavius fell to his knees and tried to catch his breath. He needed to calm down, that thing that had attacked Decius was still out there. Besides, there was nothing to hit in this godforsaken, but the rock solid ground and he didn’t want to add broken hand to his list of wounds. He laughed to himself for a good minute just thinking about how even the land was trying to kill them in this evil place.

He turned his head toward the wall of thorns standing next to him. In the dim light of the torch he had hung from another branch of thorns nearby, he could see the glimmer from the skin of one of the crimson fruit the thorn bushes produced sporadically. The fruit themselves didn’t taste half bad once you got through the tough exterior, but it was getting to the fruit that was excruciating. They were always just out of reach, meaning the soldiers would have to lean into the bush and its razor sharp thorns. No matter how careful Flavius was he knew arm would be shredded to hell when he pulled it out.

Still he proceeded slowly. Just in front of his eyes he could see a drip of moisture forming at the end of a silver thorn close to his nose. Flavius stuck out his tongue and watched as the tiny droplet fell on his tongue. This was more or less how they were forced to gather water. It was plentiful in certain parts of the day, but it always had the slight taste of blood to Flavius, as if the bushes had collected it from their victims.

Finally, Flavius felt the small solid object he had been feeling for and he took hold of it. Now, came the worst part. It always seemed like removing his arm hurt more than the initial entry. Maybe, it was the excitement of the food that was to come or maybe the bushes were actually carnivorous, but if entering felt like being stabbed, exiting was like being skinned alive. Flavius found himself screaming in agony more than once as he pulled his arm out.

When he finally did get his arm free, Flavius sat for a moment and studied small treasure and his bloody arm. He really should bring it back with him to camp and share it with his fellow soldiers, but his stomach was wailing in pain. Besides, if he really was going to take over leadership from Titus he would need all the energy he could get. On the other hand, he remembered Decius hanging on to dear life back at camp.

“Go ahead and eat it,” a voice said.

Was it his?

He turned around but found no one was there. His eyes shifted back to the fruit and his mind back to the question of eating it.

“Eat it,” the voice said. “You deserve it.”

Flavius nodded, he did deserve it. He was the one who found it and pulled it from the thorns and he was the one holding the mission together. Flavius bit into the hard fruit, nearly chipping a tooth, and sucked the bitter juice down as it flooded his mouth.

“Good, eat and get stronger,” the voice said.

“I will get stronger,” he said to the voice that might have been his own. He could feel the strength already entering his body. “And I will be decanus.”

“Do you have the will to take leadership from Titus?” the voice asked.

Flavius nodded. “I do.”

“Do you have the strength to do what needs to be done?”

Flavius felt as if his face was on fire. “You know I do.”

“Do you have the courage to kill your captain?”

“I have the courage,” he said.

The voice laughed. “Then say it.”

“I will kill Titus!” Flavius stood up. He looked at the half eaten fruit in his hand and threw it as far as he could. He felt a chill run down his spine as he unsheathed his sword. “Who are you?”

“I’m here to help you,” the voice said. “Become the man you were meant to be.”

“No!” Flavius almost sobbed. “I am a good soldier.”

The shadows swirled around him and he felt the weird sensation of his skin freezing and burning up on the inside at the same time.

“I will do great things through you.” Two red eyes stared back at him from within the shadows. “Your body belongs to me.”

Flavius swung his sword wildly at the red eyes and at the shadows around him. He became dizzy as he spun around desperately trying to fend off his attacker. The last thing he would remember was two sharp blows to his head before the darkness took him.