Fire of the Inquisitor

It wasn’t uncommon to encounter warms drafts of air from time to time in Orchid, but Octavius could only describe what was happening by the river as wind. It bent the smaller trees nearly in half and kicked up dirt and leaves into the air and nearly to the rocks that covered this world. Octavius watched the tempest from the rock he sat on half in awe and the other terror. He had not seen any like this since the storms that used to toss his grandfather’s boat when he was a child.

As sudden as the tempest had formed the entire area became calm and quiet, void of even any insect sounds. Octavius stood up and made his down to the river, standing in the warm water, stunned that he could not even hear the sound of its movement. The general couldn’t help but come to a painful conclusion.

“Don’t worry,” a voice said to him. “You haven’t lost your hearing.”

His eyes traveled slowly up to the bank of the river where a vision of what he imagined an angel looked like stood. She was several heads taller than a man and the silk gown that covered flowed at her feet like water. Her face was round and brilliant like the sun, her hair like the flames of a large bonfire. Her voice was like music, begging him to listen and leaving him craving to hear more.

Octavius stood up as straight as his old bones would allow him and put his right hand on the hilt of his sword. In his mind, as he strode toward her feet, he was wearing the lorica segmentata of his ancestors not the leather and chainmail uniform of the current legion. He knelt at her feet and trembled at her awesome beauty, the light of the world itself seemed to dim around her.

“My lady, how may I serve you?” Octavius bowed his head.

The queen let out a soft laugh. “I only ask for your love.”

“You have it,” the general said.

“Stand up and come be by my side,” she said.

Octavius did as he was commanded, crawling up the river bank like a child might climb on their parent’s bed. It took all his strength to stand again, but he hardly noticed the pain in his body with the beauty of his lady by side. He looked up at her, losing himself in the darkness of her eyes.

“Your time in this world is at an end human,” she said to him.

Octavius opened and closed his dry mouth. “My only regret is that I can’t spend more time in your presence.”

“You are very sweet.” The woman moved the back of her hand across his cheek, not close enough to touch his skin, but Octavius felt his skin blister from her heat. “If I asked, would you be my general?”

“Nothing would please me more,” Octavius cried. “If only my men would have the medicine you spoke of, I would fight any opponent for you.”

She gave him the sweetest smile, sending his heart into a panic. “There is more than one way to achieve immortality.”

Octavius fell to his knees and spread his arms. “Please, my lady show me how.”

The queen folded her arms and tapped her chin with her long finger. “But what about your people?”

“I have given my life for them,” he hissed.

“But who will you choose to lead them?”

Octavius stood up and for a moment, he looked in the direction of the village. He turned back to her with nothing, but contempt in his eyes. “Let them vote like their pagan ancestors.”

“Very well.” She motioned him to follow her with a graceful gesture. “I will turn you into a mighty general and you will protect me from my enemies.”

The man once known as Octavius followed his lady through the agricultural fields that he had called home. The memories of his life there and the people he had lead started to fade away from his mind. He saw the face of a young woman that he felt he had cared for once. He tried to remember her name, tried to remember her voice, but it was a losing battle. It didn’t matter anymore, he was a soldier with a beautiful lady to fight for.