Urbs Spe Fururi

Recordantur Quid Ante

Justinius continued preparations for the harvest festival regardless of the news of his father’s imminent arrival and their subsequent removal from the villa. “After all,” Justinius reflected with his sister as they considered the menu, “He shall not spoil tradition for these people or us.”

“But what if he comes before the festival to take us away?” asked Lavinia.

“Then we shall simply have to tell him we are not yet prepared to leave,” said Justinius with more gumption than was necessary.

The days wore on and there was no sign of their father or any update to his whereabouts. Thus, they continued planning for the harvest festival and, before long, the day finally arrived. The sun had just begun to set toward the horizon’s edge, closing off the last of the warm days of the year, when Justinius arrived at the entrance to the villa with Lavinia on his arm. He wore a dark green toga, made darker by the white of his simple tunic. Lavinia was garbed in a fine red dress and a shawl wrapped about her shoulders of the finest material, its green tatting a sheer texture.

As soon as the pair arrived at the gate to their villa, the many farmers and fellow villa owners who had gathered for the celebration let out a loud cheer. Justinius and Lavinia smiled graciously and came down to begin greeting their guests who lined up to wish them a happy harvest day. Upon welcoming them, each guest proceeded eagerly to the nearest stall of food or drinking barrels and began sampling the fine display.

The wealthy landowners sat at benches and tables while further afield, a great deal of grass had been neatly cut for the common people to sit upon and relax while they ate their repast. All the food and drinks were close to the head table which stood on a platform situated on a higher knot of ground and oversaw the entire assembly. On the opposite side, closer to the road, an open patch of dirt was prepared for dancing as the musicians began tuning their instruments. These were no farmers, however, but were from the nearest city and had been ordered specially by Justinius for the occasion.

The long line of guests continued while Justinius and Lavinia greeted each graciously as a host must. As the sun began to hit the edge of the treetops, they were, at last, free to wander up to the head table and sit while the servants placed before them a platter of food and drink. Justinius raised his cup to Lavinia and she did the same for him. Each sipped the watered wine and stared about at the festivities. It did not take long for the eating to turn more to drinking and, with a flick of his hand, Justinius started up the musicians. They played several tunes that were familiar to the country folk of Reducta and some began to dance with glee.

Minor landowners from outlying villa’s talked amongst themselves about civic matters while their wives shared any latest news they’d heard, keeping one wary eye on their children, ensuring they did not wander amongst the lower-class children. The farmers, workers, and servants mingled about on the grass, laughing, talking, playing games, and generally cavorting about. The dance floor soon became packed and the instruments played quickly. Several faces glanced up expectantly at Justinius and Lavinia turned to him. “They are wondering when you will start your traditional song.”

“I know.”

“Then do not keep them waiting. As we say, the needs of the people come first.”

Justinius smiled at her and nodded. Taking one last draft, he stood to tumultuous applause and he made his way down the platform. The instruments stopped and the musicians turned to him as he approached them, a great number of farmers gathering about the dancing circle to view him and the villa owners smiling and chuckling amongst themselves. For most Aquillans, Aequendar and other magical discussions were frowned upon, used to discourage children from mischievous behavior. But here, in this small town, they pulled their children forward to hear a song which they would remember for years to come. Justinius stood grandly and brushed his toga off in mock pretense of removing dirt from himself. “I wonder if any of you would like to hear the song The Elders of the Stars?”

A round of cheers came from all sides. Justinius smiled, soaking in their attention. “It is a tale as ancient as time, made, it is said, by the first men who wandered our lands. When the Caustilius Empire was still a newly formed power and our empires of today hadn’t yet claimed their ancestry from its great lineages. Will you journey with me into a time beyond time itself?”

The crowd did not cheer this time. Instead, a whisper swept through the crowd and they gazed past Justinius. The instruments ground to a sudden halt. Justinius stared about confused when he heard the horses behind him. His smile faded and he turned about to see the man whom they had long anticipated.

Horatius Honerius was tall for an Aquillan, with dark brown hair to match his daughter Lavinia’s but cut short and neat. His patchy facial hair showed the distance he had traveled on the road and his eyes, dark and ponderous, scanned the crowd before resting on Justinius, his shadow engulfing his son.

“Justinius,” he said.

“Father…greetings.”

“I had not expected to find you singing songs of the Aequendar.”

“It is a tradition,” said Justinius, trying to smile politely but failing. “We did not realize you would be joining us-” he glanced behind his father and his face reddened further, “With guests.”

There were, in fact, two other people behind Horatius besides his ordinary guard. The two guests appeared distinguished with their light hair and fine clothes. The man must have been nearing his thirties with sandy brown hair and dark blue eyes. The woman behind him had long blond hair that spilled down her simple but elegant dress and her intelligent, bright green eyes flashed in fading light and a smile seemed to flit on the corners of her lips.

“These are my guests,” said Horatius, “Damianus Humilius and his sister Lumina. They are traveling to Aquilla to present their case to the senate.”

“A case to the senate?” stuttered Justinius, still flustered, aware of the crowd privy to their conversation. “What case?”

“Damianus is the ambassador from Carxandria, come to plead for cooperation with the Senate.”

Justinius stared at the pair with renewed interest. Carxandrians. “Welcome, honored guests. You are far from home and in what might be considered your enemy's land. But you will find nothing but a kind reception here. The people of Reducta care more about their next meal and good company than wars with foreign nations.”

Damianus Humilius nodded to him. “That is most gracious of you.”

Horatius leaned forward in his saddle. “Will you leave your singing long enough to have the servants bring us food and drink and draw up a bath?”

Justinius flew into action. “Of course! I will have them set places for you at the head table…which will be extended. That is, if you don’t mind eating outdoors and in the company of others.”

Horatius turned to Damianus who shrugged. “I see no problem with that. Sister?”

Lumina shook her head. With this affirmation, the guests dismounted. Justinius waved to some servants nearby. “See that their horses are given food and water and bedded down for the night. Then prepare some baths for them. Have the other servants bring out more food and drink.” Turning to another he said, “Have the table extended and chairs added to it. My father shall, of course, take center with his guests.”

All arrangements were made in quick order, the servants rushing about as the guests tried not to stare at the new arrivals, their lively conversation reduced to lower murmurs. Horatius moved to kiss his daughter on the cheek before taking his spot at the center of the head table, his guests joining him. The farmers, knowing themselves to be completely out of their depth, abandoned the open dirt area near the road and fled back to the cut grass to sit. The instruments, at first silent, struck up a much calmer and lilting tune normally heard in the background of dinner parties in a rich man’s home. The landowners took their cues and began to approach the table, bowing respectfully and greeting the honorable senator, Horatius Honerius.

Horatius received each in turn with a graceful nod and an occasional word of greeting. A small smile remained planted on his face but to Justinius, now situated at the end of the table, there was no humor in it or his eyes. It was protocol, nothing more. The food was brought out and the rest ate but Horatius did not touch his food till he greeted the last guest. The others, already finished, stared at him expectantly. He lifted his head, wiped his mouth, then turned to Justinius at the end of the table. “Since you are so fond of singing, perhaps you will sing for us the epic you had planned before taking Lumina Humilius out to the circle for a dance. Or for a tour of our grounds.”

Justinius felt his face turn red with embarrassment and nervousness. He tried to stare down the table at Lumina, a beautiful woman who was looking back at him with interest. His pulse quickened as he pulled himself together. “I shall let the lady decide if she wishes to partake in any activity.”

“I would be delighted,” said Lumina, “If you see fit, Damianus.”

Damianus nodded, sampling more wine. She turned back to Justinius. “First, we would hear your epic. Come…will you sing for us?”

He blushed at her smile, her beauty driving him to stand quickly and thus awkwardly from his seat. “Of course…if it would please you.”

Justinius descended the grassy knoll to the circle of dirt where the farmers began to gather once again. Children moved to the front, sitting in the dirt, rich and poor alike together, regardless of station as they gathered to hear his song. Justinius suddenly felt much more nervous than he had before. He glanced up at his father, staring at him without betraying a single thought or emotion, then to Lumina who smiled with encouragement. Justinius smiled weakly back, cleared his throat, then stuttered, “Um…yes…people of Reducta, honored guests, I present for your entertainment, the Elders of the Stars.” He nodded to the lead conductor.

The light of the sun had faded beyond the horizon and the world was cast into shadows as the torches burned bright. Dark and light intermingled in confusing patterns as the instruments began a slow humming, almost drone-like sound. It was eerie and filled the darkening sky with mystery and the few emerging stars shone brightly to match. It was unlikely anyone really understood what the words he spoke meant but the tone was clear enough to convince them of its serious nature and importance. To Justinius, the familiar Aequenda language translated easily in his mind. Total silence seemed to fall over the world as Justinius stood tall and took a deep breath. He hummed darkly with the music before his words came forth, as ancient and enchanting as they must have in the time of their creation.

In days long past

In ancient nights forgotten

After the creation of things

After the formation of time

From legend and myth

From the stars on high

Fell the Aequendar

In splendid light

Fair and powerful in youth

They wandered the earth

Subduing beast of land

And sea to whim and deed.

Mighty structures rose from earth

The sky was touched by hands

They grew in might and strength

To subdue all the lands.

Ah! What a sight to see!

Stretching beyond the touch of wind

Yet to the proud Aequendar

It could not satisfy their whims.

Behold! In stone and gem!

A power greater still

They took and poured within

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To seek their hearts to fill.

Upon the world, a darkness rose

Their power beyond pretense.

The world did shatter upon their ire

A tyranny did begin.

A plague unleashed in fury

A power older still

Their towers fell in glory

No one could ever remake.

In days long past

In ancient nights forgotten

In ruin of lost splendor

Man stepped forth on earth.

From time untold

From earth broke open

Man walked to see

What he might make

Oh! Aequendar of old

Your time is done

For man has come

To regrow what you lost.

His final tones faded away as he hummed his final part and the instruments ended in almost perfect unison with his voice. Entranced by the tune, the atmosphere of the fresh night, and the implication of his words, Justinius almost missed the applause till he shook his head and bowed graciously. He rushed from the dirt patch in which he stood to return to his seat at the head table as the crowd began to disperse.

Horatius nodded to his son, “Well sung.”

The compliment was simple but it caused Justinius to blush. “Thank you, Father.” He turned to Lumina. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I did enjoy your song. I would also inquire as to its meaning while you show me the grounds of your villa.”

She turned to her brother, her eyebrow raised and he nodded his approval. “Horatius and I will wait for your return before going in.”

She nodded, stood, and waited at the table end, her hand out for Justinius to take as he led her down the hill. They entered through the villa’s main gate, walking through the flower gardens as Justinius released her hand, blushing and struggling to find words, any words, that might break the silence. She filled in for him. “Your song was very good. Tell me, what was the recitation about? Just the abridged version.”

Justinius nodded, grateful for her taking up the conversation. “It was the Elders from the Stars. It tells of the Aequendars’ arrival to this world, their rise to power, and their mysterious downfall to some sort of power from within and without. Then, it concludes as we take their place.”

She nodded. “I have heard of that one but never saw it performed. I have never really been a fan of history.”

“You and I have a severe disagreement there,” said Justinius, smiling shyly. He rubbed his neck as he feigned interest in a bed of roses.

“It is simply a list of battles, kings, wars, and terrible mistakes people made. I would rather focus on the here and now.”

At this, he refocused his gaze on her. “But perhaps the past can help you fix the present. Part of those bad decisions was people making the same mistakes. How can we fix them unless we know what was done wrong before?”

He was startled to see her smiling mischievously at him. “And do you believe all of that history is so accurate to be considered worthy of scrutiny to find solutions to present problems? After all, victors write the histories. How truthful would they be in their accounts about those they defeated? Mustn’t they find a justification for some of their more…brutal acts?”

He stared at her, hearing the challenge in her voice. “I…well…fair point.” He lapsed into silence as they passed around the side of the house toward the back gate. A point of conversation suddenly dawned on him and he leaped for it. “I suspect we all justify our actions so they are no different than us. But I perceive you and I will not see eye to eye on the importance of history. But what of your history?”

“What about my history would you like to know?”

Justinius had suspected a fight on this and her ease to share startled him. “Oh…um…well…how about your family? What is their background?”

“So not really MY history.”

“But it is your history.”

Lumina shrugged off his point. “My family have been nobles of Carxandria since before the civil war three hundred years ago…the one where Aquilla broke away as a nation-state in its own right.”

“I recall.”

“Our family was actually royalty at the time. We were the ones sitting on the throne. Of course, our name was different back then. But, after losing the war, we fell into obscurity and had to rise slowly through the ranks again to obtain status and power. We now act as the diplomatic arm of Carxandria…particularly to Aquilla.”

Justinius gestured her through the gate as she spoke and she nodded. They proceeded out the back gate and into the orchards in the back of the villa. “Your name is Aquillan, is it not?”

“Indeed. We married into an Aquillan family and became part of two worlds. It didn’t earn us any favors on either side but we hoped it could be the starting point for a bridge that could be created between Aquilla and Carxandria. Two wars later…that is not the case.”

“So…your family is not well-liked?”

“Not in Aquilla, no. The fat, useless Carxandrian king still has use for us so he tolerates us. Other than him…we have little love from our people.”

“It appears we have something in common.”

She turned to him, her eyebrows raised. She didn’t speak and he sensed she was waiting for him to elaborate. He took a deep breath of the air, filled with the smell of ripe plums and fresh-picked cherries. “It…is probably more drama than I should talk about.”

“Then don’t make it dramatic.”

He looked at her, surprised again at her forward and open nature. She was smiling at him, her pale face shining in the fading light and framed by her resplendent blond hair. “I…I don’t know…”

“I assume it has to do with your red hair,” she said, filling in his stutters. “Aquillans are known to have brown hair. Red is normally associated with the people up north…or some Carxandrians. In either case, I suspect that means you are a half-gen.”

There it was, the name. He blushed so deeply he felt his face burn and he smiled in a sickly fashion. “Astute observation.”

“Don’t be embarrassed! It is not our choice when or how we are born. Our parents make that choice for us and we simply must bear with the results. Such was the lesson my brother always taught me as a child to ease the burden of our family’s reputation.”

“Your brother?” asked Justinius, eagerly seizing on a different topic. “Not your parents?”

She turned to avoid his gaze.“Both died in a shipwreck some twelve years ago,” she replied dismissively. “It has been my brother who has taken care of me, despite a great many matters of state he deals with.”

“I see…I’m sorry.”

She shrugged and continued walking, staring straight ahead now. Justinius struggled to find his words, feeling the panic and shame of her earlier observation still burn within him. They had reached the edge of the orchard now and the dark woods loomed some hundred feet away from them. A strange sound echoed from them, like scraping bark on a tree mixed with an animal’s cry. She seemed to notice it too. “What was that?”

“I’m not sure.”

The silence stretched again as they stared at the trees, growing darker by the second. They both listened for the sound to come again but silence greeted them. He shivered, turning it into a nonchalant shrug. “Strange.” He glanced at her side where a sword rested, finer than any he had seen. A jewel was in the center of the pommel on either side, a shining polished gem of sapphire.“That sword tells me something about you, if only that you collect rare weapons.”

She nodded, drawing it from its sheath. It was longer than Aquillan swords but light and thin. “Do you like it? It's Aequendar. My brother bought it for me on my sixteenth birthday.”

“I do! It’s Aequendar?” Justinius took the proffered handle and studied the patterns in the blade. “It’s amazing! Can you use it?”

“I can. I enjoy swordplay.”

“Swordplay? That is an unusual hobby.”

“And one you don’t approve of, I’m sure.”

Justinius flashed his first brash smile at her. “And why must that be so? I haven’t known you long enough to disapprove of such an action. I take it few do, however.”

She stared at him, her face holding a level of wariness. “No…not usually. It took me years to convince my brother to allow me to be trained, and no trainers would accept the position until we found one from Celprise in the Midland sea. They are…less picky about traditions.”

“They must be,” said Justinius. “So, tell me, before I pass hasty and rash judgment down upon you for your life’s choices, what made you decide to learn how to use the sword?”

“Is it not obvious?” She sighed and stated, “Do you not see the world around us? It is falling apart in chaos and violence. How else shall I prepare for the coming storm except by learning to defend myself?”

Justinius’s smile faded as he gazed at her intense stare. “I suppose that makes sense. Being stuck here for the past ten years has made me…comfortable in my home. I forget the outside world and the troubles out there except as minor nuisances to bug my conscience.”

Lumina shook her head, gazing sadly away into the dark trees. “That peace has never existed in my life. The forts with your Aquillan soldiers in our hills are a constant reminder that we are a hairsbreadth from total annihilation should your people choose to snuff us out.”

Justinius felt a retort and pity well up in equal measure. He breathed deeply to suppress both and answered, “Not all of us would see you destroyed.”

“Little comfort that is,” came the clipped response.

“If it is any consolation, I applaud you for training in the sword. In these times, you can’t be too careful. And you have learned more than I have of swords…and the world, despite my extensive reading.”

Lumina tossed her hair, the lines on her face growing smoother. “I didn’t mean to sound accusatory. I know not all Aquillans are bad, just as not all Carxandrians are bad. But many are…on both sides.”

“No doubts there.”

“Still, I thank you. Few are willing to see past my actions to acknowledge I should learn to fight back. I have read what becomes of countries that are conquered in war and though the poor might be ignored, spared, or escape, those of us near the top are less lucky. I will go down fighting before I become a slave, a prisoner in a cell for the rest of my life, or worse, be taken by soldiers and…used before I am discarded with a blade to my throat.”

Justinius cringed, his throat constricting. “You are a sack of joys, I must say.” It slipped out before he could stop himself and he clamped his mouth shut at that, feeling the warmth return to his face as his eyes widened.

Lumina let out a bark of laughter before catching herself as well. “You are not the first to say that! And I acknowledge it. My nature is such that I see the worst in things more than the good. Realism or pessimism, you choose. I am sorry.”

The noise came again from the trees, the scraping of bark and a cry, this time oddly human in sound. Its creaking tone split the air and then faded to silence. Justinius felt the hair on his neck stand up and he turned to the trees. “What in twelve hells?”

“You don’t know what that is?” asked Lumina, taking her blade from Justinius’ hand.

“No! I’ve never heard that sound before-”

Several darting lights emerged from the trees as four Fatae fled from the darkness and into the orchard. They swirled around Justinius’s head before fleeing into the leaves of a cherry tree. Lumina gasped. “What?! What are those?”

Justinius still stared into the trees. “Fatae. They are harmless…do you see something moving?”

They both peered into the trees and, sure enough, something was moving in the darkness toward them. Lumina backed off, sword coming to the ready. “Perhaps we should leave…”

An ear-splitting cry rang out, scraping bark mixed with a ragged human voice, filled with pain and creaking like it hadn’t been used in years. “Memen sesoth!”

The pair backed up, Justinius unsure if he should cover Lumina or leave her with the sword in the front. The cry came again, “Memen sesoth!”

The figure was human in shape but appeared to be misshapen. The darkness of the trees obscured it as it stayed just at the edge of them. “I don’t know that language,” said Justinius, “But I think it’s northern. What is a northern barbarian doing this far south?” He recalled his calming words to his sister a few days ago. They are too far north for us to worry about. “How could they have gotten past the garrison of gens Montinius?”

Lumina stepped forward. “Who are you?”

The figure stopped. A creaking sound came as its head turned and two glowing, green eyes peered out at them from the trees. Its whole body turned then, creaking as it did so. “Sivula crashtia?”

The figure emerged from the trees and into the fading light, now lit by a half-moon rising above the trees. The creature, man, whatever it was stood out in stark contrast. It was a northerner. His body was mostly naked save for a loincloth and his torso was covered in black painting, making him difficult to see. His humanity ended there. His limbs, head, and much of the rest of his body looked wooden like he had begun to petrify into a tree but stopped halfway. His fingers were now sharp branches, his legs trunks with roots, his head a mass of knotted wood, and his wild hair spiked branches with leaves on them. His eyes were glowing green as he gazed through holes in the wood on his face. When he opened his mouth, it sounded like bark scraping against bark and the voice was ragged and creaked like wood itself. “Sivula crashtia!?”

Lumina backed away. “Back to the house.”

Justinius nodded. “Agreed.”

The creature lurched toward them, opening a mouth filled with sharpened knobs of wood. “Memen sesoth!” Lumina raised her sword and the creature’s moan filled the air as it charged in an awkward run, its wooden arms and spiked fingers outstretched. The sound of scraping bark filled the air as it half ran, half stumbled into the waiting blade of Lumina. She hacked at the creature’s outstretched arms, chopping off a few twig fingers. It screeched but kept going, falling onto her.

Lumina screamed as the creature descended on her and she tripped, falling backward. Justinius moved, more out of desperation than thought, and rammed his shoulder into the creature. He felt a sharp, stinging pain as the impact made him feel like he had hit a tree rather than a human. Spikes of wood on the creature’s shoulder pierced his own and he gasped, backing away. The creature turned its green gaze on him and shot out a hand. The remaining spiked fingers shot forward and nearly slashed his throat and he would have died if not for his instinctive jerk of the head.

Lumina slashed at the creature’s leg, her blade sinking in and sticking. She yanked at it as its other leg lunged out to step on her, sharp tendrils of roots seeking to pierce her torso. She scrambled away, snatching her blade from the creature’s leg as it pursued her. Justinius backed into a tree, yelping in surprise as he did so. He turned to see a large wooden rake leaning against the tree and he snatched it up. The creature was almost on Lumina, swiping at her with sharp fingers as she backed up, swinging her blade desperately. There was a knotted mass of branches on the creature’s lower back and Justinius charged, swinging the rake into them.

It had the intended effect. The rake stuck and yanked the creature off balance. It stumbled backward and Lumina’s swipe went low, cutting the cloth of its pants. A pouch flew from the creature’s side and landed in the dirt by Justinius. The creature completely panicked, falling and scrambling toward the pouch on the ground, screeching, “El Kautombrai! No! No sas!”

Justinius looked on in wonder as it went for the pouch at his feet, transfixed by the vision of the half-tree, half-man crawling toward him, completely oblivious to its two original quarries as its fingers grasped and its body writhed in desperation towards what it so prized. Lumina’s blade came down like a lightning bolt, straight into the creature’s upper back, the one place not completely covered in wood where skin still resided. Its dying screech was horrifying, half falling tree half dying man before it lay, its body slumping over with a groaning of limbs, its green eyes fading to black.

The pair stood, shocked silence filling the air as servants’ cries could be heard in the distance. They had heard the sound. Lumina was panting heavily, still holding her sword at the ready. “What…what was that? What did we just fight?”

Justinius couldn’t respond. His gaze lingered on the dead creature at his feet then strayed to the pouch it was so desperately going for. He reached down slowly, picking up the worn, leather pouch from the grass, and felt something hard within. Loosening the straps, he emptied the contents into the palm of his hand. It was the strangest thing he had ever seen.

A small gem, black as night, lay in his palm, and from its interior, a faint light pulsed like smoldering coal from a fire.