Fire of the Inquisitor

On the rare nights when Octavius was able to stay awake he worked on his book. Tactics in the Face of Overwhelming Odds was an idea in Octavius’s head even before he and his legion had become trapped in this world. A man his age should have completed dozens of such books, but he never seemed to have the time. It contained battle tactics, leadership advice, and even the strange dreams he had been having. He doubted he would be able to finish it before, he left, but at least his people could use it to survive.

“You humans are truly obsessed with collecting.”

Octavius turned in his chair and gasped when he saw a dark figure standing near one of his shelves. There was a sudden tightening in the old man’s chest and his fingers felt numb. He trembled in front of the stranger dressed in dark blue robes with an animal skull for a face.

“Who are you?” he managed.

The creature moved toward him and placed a gloved hand on his shoulder. Suddenly, the numbness and pain washed away from Octavius, feeling better than he had in weeks. The old man looked up at his guest and saw the crystal blue eyes of one the queens people hiding behind that terrible mask.

“I am called Mania,” the intruder said.

Octavius swallowed hard. “Are you here to kill me?”

“Of course not.” The stranger laughed. “Why spend the effort when time is almost finished with you?”

Octavius sunk in his chair. “Then what do you want with me?”

Malice avoided the question for a moment, looking around the room like a curious feline and tapping in strange rhythm on the armrest of the chair Octavius was sitting on.

“I like this room,” Malice said. The horns on his mask gave Octavius the feeling that Death had come to take him away from this world. “They are much more intimate than our own.”

“Like you said,” Octavius couldn’t keep his frustration out of his voice, “I have little time to waste.” Octavius stood up, ashamed that he couldn’t keep himself from shaking. “Please tell me why you are here.”

“Very well.” Malice bowed. The strange being walked over to the room’s windows and held opened the curtains slightly. Octavius squinted as the light outside assaulted his eyes. Malice’s speech turned faint and less distinct. “My lady wishes to meet with you before you leave this world.”

“Lady Invictus?” Octavius rubbed his bald head. “When, where?”

“Sleep tonight,” the voice said as a warm breeze entered the room. “Come to the river outside of you village. Tell no one, bring no one.”

“Why so soon?” Octavius struggled to see the person standing in front of him. “What does she want with me?”

“This is your only chance.” The voice became no more than a whisper. “She has an offer that you may be interested in.”

The curtain fell closed and banished the light outside. Octavius found himself standing in the room alone, unsure if what he had just seen wasn’t some hallucination of the pain he had just experience. He turned to his desk, closing his unfinished book and placing his pen on top of it. Then, he walked to his bed and fell onto it, falling asleep before he felt the fabric of his blankets. He would sleep uninterrupted that night, without dreams or pain to wake him.