Early Personal History of Danaus By Danaus I had a relatively normal childhood growing up. I was born in a small village just a few days’ ride from Rome along the coast. My father had served under the Caesar before I was born, but moved his wife outside of the city to a small village before I was born. He had wanted his family to be safe from the political machinery that had ground up a number of leaders and their families during a change in rule. I didn’t see my father much as he spent most of his time in Rome and my mother had handed me over to a variety of care-takers that saw to my proper upbringing and education. Most of my days growing up were spent with tutors or riding across the plantation. We had a large orchard of olive trees, several acres devoted to grapes for wine, and a scattering of goats and sheep. We also had several dozen slaves working the land and the house where I grew up. At the age of sixteen, I joined the military, to my father’s disappointment. He had hoped that I would follow him into the Senate, but I had no stomach for politics and absolutely no interest in farming. The Empire was constantly expanding and I needed to be a part of it. I needed to see these lands that we were conquering and I needed to see the people we were drawing into our great Empire. I quickly proved my prowess with a sword and was quite comfortable on a horse. With surprising speed, I climbed through the ranks and by the age of eighteen, I was the leader of my own platoon. I was happy in my life. I was traveling the Empire, learning new languages and cultures, and doing the will of my Caesar. But I’ve learned that when contentment begins to settle into the bone, that is when your world will fall apart. My squad had been called back to Rome for a bit of a holiday and new instructions. Just outside the city, I detoured my men to take care of a small uprising. It was a bit of nothing and I expected little trouble with quelling the trouble. Distracted by two other men with pitchforks, I took a knife to the back. After nearly two thousand years, I can still remember the burning sensation as it slashed downward, clipping one of the arteries of my heart and plunging into my left lung. Another man stepped forward as I fell to my knees and cut my throat. I gasped, but only blood poured into my one working lung. My men killed the last of the disgruntled farmers and took me to a medic within the city. I was dying. I didn’t need a leech to tell me that. In the waning hours of the day, my father knelt by my side in the dim lamp light, waiting for my death. I barely heard his whispered prayers to the gods to save my life, but I was already reconciled to my fate. By morning, I was breathing normally. The medic scrambled from the house and straight to the Caesar with tale of my miraculous recovery. My father praised the gods and had special offerings burned at every temple within the city. I received many visitors that day, ranging from my men to temple priests to other members of the Senate. They were mostly a blur and I tried to sleep through most of it. I didn’t care about whether I was a walking miracle. I needed to get back to my men, back to the field where I was needed. The sun was setting the day after my attack and I was finally alone in my room. I threw off the thin sheet I had been given and pushed off my cot. My muscles were sore and there was still a burning in my back and lungs from the puncture. “Interesting,” said a quiet voice from behind me. I spun around, already reaching for my sword, which had been stripped from me when I brought before the medic. A short, thin man stood in the doorway, watching me with an intent expression on his face. At first glance, he looked like a scholar, but his rough hands, confident stance, and muscular arms argued that he had seen ample time on the battlefield. “I had heard that you were a walking miracle, but I didn’t realize they were being quite so literal,” he continued, stepping the rest of the way into the room. I nodded, resisting the urged to cross my arms over my chest. The wound in my back had closed, but the muscles were still tender and resistant to movement. “I know your father from the Senate. My name is Marcus Aurelius,” he introduced. I blinked for a moment in shock that he had come to see me. Even after my long absence from the city, I had heard of Marcus. There were whispers that he could become the next emperor. I bowed deeply to the smaller man, wincing at the sharp movement. “Don’t, please. There’s no need,” Marcus said, waving off the bow. “Your father had bragged a great deal about your accomplishments abroad for the Empire and now your quick recovery. I wanted to stop in and meet the young man that is now on the lips of most of the Senate.” “I only wish to serve the Empire,” I said briskly. I was wary of where this conversation was leading. I had no desire to become drawn into the political maneuverings of the Senate. “I just want to get back to my men.” “I can think of no better place for you,” he replied, with a pre-occupied smile. “I imagine that you will be able to return to duty in another day or two. I was wondering, though.” He paused, scratching his chin absently. “Your father has requested that the village those farmers were from be punished for their rebellion. What do you think?” “My opinion doesn’t matter. I follow the order of the Emperor.” “I understand that, but I am curious just the same.” “Those men attacked soldiers who have sworn to protect them against any foe. They rose up against the Emperor. Something must be done or there will be chaos,” I replied. “I agree. You and your men are being sent to the village. Do as you see fit. A gift from the Emperor for your admirable service,” Marcus explained. “As you wish,” I said, bowing my head. “Would you like to know why they were rebelling?” Marcus asked just before turning to leave. “Does it matter?” “It might.” “Why?” “The rains have been too few this summer and crops are poor. The farmers had come to ask that taxes be reduced so that they might survive. The Emperor refused.” “Thank you.” “Would you like another squad to be assigned?” “No. I will take care of this.” A week later, the village had been burned to the ground and every person in the village had been slaughtered. I felt no vengeance or enjoyment in my task, but I felt no reluctance either. They rose up against the Empire and had to be punished or others might follow their example. After the village, we continued on to the next hot spot within the Empire, quelling uprisings and banish attackers on our borders. But the tale of my survival soon spread throughout the Empire. I had become the protected son of the gods, the vengeful arm of the Emperor, the one who could not be killed. My men seemed to have grown a little more wary of me, but never questioned my orders. It was another three years (161 A.D.) before we were summoned back to Rome. The Emperor had died and Marcus Aurelius along with Lucius Aurelius Verus was named the new Emperors of the Roman Empire. Upon my return, Marcus pulled me aside and asked me to be the head of his personal guard. I hesitated and Marcus understood. I was used to a life of combat and travel, not following about the Emperor. While Marcus preferred to be engaged in battle as well, it would be a different life than what I knew. I left the palace that night and wandered the empty streets of Rome as I tried to make up my mind. It was an honor, but my intention had never been to catch the attention of the Emperor. I paused at a fountain in a lonely piazza when I felt a strange shift in the air. I couldn’t identify it, but I knew that I wasn’t alone. I gazed around the square to find some bums huddled in one far corner, but the feeling had not come from them. My eyes swept the square again, but this time my gaze caught on a man standing in the shadows at the far side of the piazza off to my left. He was standing as still as a statue and his eyes caught the dim light in such a way that they seemed to glow. He cocked his head to the side for a moment then moved forward in such a way that it seemed as if he floated on air. He stopped on the other side of the fountain with a puzzled look on his extremely pale face. His lean body was wrapped in deep burgundy robes made of a fine material and his dark hair was cut short. “You can see me,” he said, sounding extremely surprised. His voice was almost musical in its tones, floating on the air like a haunting melody. “Of course I can,” I snapped. I had come here to be alone, not converse with lunatics. “They cannot,” the stranger said, waving a hand toward the bums on the opposite side of the plaza. I was about to contradict the man when he darted across the courtyard in the blink of an eye. He stood near one of the men and waved his hand before the older man’s eyes, but he never blinked or stirred. Not one of the men gathered in the far corner flinched or moved, indicating that they saw the man. “How interesting,” the stranger said in a soft voice as he started walking toward me at a more sedate pace. “You must be the one these people claim to be the son of the gods. Pity, I expected you to be taller.” “Why can’t they see you?” I demanded, ignoring his comment. “Because they are just humans and I don’t wish them to see me,” he replied. He stopped a few feet away, his hands relaxed at his sides. I didn’t like how he phrased his answer. It implied I was not human. “What are you?” The man’s smile widened to show two rows of perfect white teeth and a pair of fangs any predator would have been envious of. His dark eyes glowed with an eerie light that made me take a step backward. He was not human. Had I found a creature from myth and legend? Was he a god come to earth? “Just another monster like you,” he chuckled then his eyes suddenly darted to the far edge of the piazza. A woman in white robes had stepped out of a dark alley into the square. “Now if you’ll excuse me. Dinner had been served.” With a deep, graceful bow, the stranger turned and joined the woman on the other side of the square. Yet, before the two disappeared from sight, a wave of gut-wrenching hunger washed over me. It pooled in my limbs and set my muscles and limbs on fire. I dropped to one knee, my hand clenching one side of the cool, marble fountain like an anchor to the shore. I craved not food, but blood. I needed to taste it, feel it rushing down my throat, its warmth filling me. And then it was gone like a candle blown out. In that heavy silence, I knew the woman was dead. The stranger had drained the woman and would leave her empty husk for others to find in the early morning hours. I don’t know where this knowledge came from, but I knew it to be true. And somehow I had some dark link to this monster. I was dreading the confrontation, but I knew she would be the only one that could give me any kind of answer. And lucky for me, she just happened to be in Rome at the time. I hadn’t spoken to my mother in more than five years, but she was waiting for me in the gardens when I arrived at my father’s house. Odessa was in her late thirties with jet black hair and crystal blue eyes. I saw her rarely while I was growing up, but had no illusions about what she was. She was a witch and a soothsayer. People had traveled great distances to speak with her, to catch a glimpse of their future. She made people fall in love, taste good fortune, or for the right fee, catch their death. I found her sitting alone in the garden on a low stone bench surrounded by ferns and sleeping lilies. Her hands were folded in her lap and she seemed calm, but there was an odd tension in the wrinkles around her eyes. “You knew I was coming?” I asked when I found her alone. “I had a feeling it would be tonight,” she said with a slight inclination of her head. “The Emperor has asked you to be at his side?” “To be the head of his personal guard,” I confirmed. “Do you know why I am here?” “Information.” “What am I?” I demanded, my voice hardening. “Am I human? Are you and Thanatos my real parents?” “Yes, you are of our flesh. You are human and so much more. While I carried you in my womb, I summoned a demon to our home. I needed more power. Your father was sending us away. I had to strike back at him. I was prepared to offer my own soul, but the demon didn’t want it. In exchange for teaching me and giving me more spells, he wanted you.” “You gave me to a demon?” I growled, my fists clenched at my sides. I suddenly couldn’t breathe as the rage grew into a knot in my throat. “You gave your unborn child to such a creature.” The hunger that I had felt earlier in the night was like liquid fire in my veins now and throbbing my temple. But this time it was slightly different. I didn’t have the need to feed upon her, just kill her. Before I had taken my first breath in this world, she had damned me to an eternity of torment at the hands of such a creature. “I had no choice,” she argued, holding her hands toward me, her eyes pleading for understanding. “He said he would return for you one day. He will teach you, too. You’ve always been faster and stronger than the others. I’ve heard of your healing abilities. These are all gifts. In time, there will be more gifts. You’ll be able to destroy anyone who opposes you.” “At what price?” I shouted. In my head, I swore I could hear her heart pounding and the rush of blood in her veins. I focused my anger on the sound until I could feel the liquid heating. The sound of her gasping and screaming jerked my gaze back to her slim form. Her clawed at her arms as she fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Her pale skin split and her blood spewed forth, popping and hissing. I had no doubt that I had killed her, but I felt no regret or remorse. She had made me into a monster. It was only fitting that the monster destroyed her. I silently left the house that night, rage still burning inside of me. I agreed to be the head of Marcus’ personal guard. No one ever accused me of my mother’s death. I followed Marcus across the Empire for the next fifteen years, aiding him as he struggled to keep the Empire in one piece. I became his confidante and friend, but I never spoke of what my mother told me. I never spoke of the demon that owned my soul. I had yet to meet this monster, but I knew it was only a matter of time. A few years before the death of Marcus, I left his side and started to travel east. People had become too uncertain about me. I had survived one too many times when I should have died. I was too quick with my blade and stronger than normal men. Marcus stood by me, but I didn’t want people to question his leadership because he had faith in me. I moved slowly east, never staying in a single town or village for more than a year or two at a time. Somewhere along the way, I had stopped aging. No gray ever appeared in my hair and there were no lines on my face. My reflection showed a man in his early thirties, but I was now closing on sixty. Was I now immortal? Would I continue ageless through the endless centuries? I was closing on my sixtieth year when I met Bodhi on a lonely road east of what is now Romania. He was thin, wiry man standing less than five feet tall. His thick black hair was heavily streaked with white and his face was covered in lines. I encountered him one sunny, summer afternoon sitting on the side of the road, leaning against a tree. His fingered were threaded behind his head and he was whistling a jaunty little tune, at ease with the world, but he paused when he saw me. He said something as I approached, but I couldn’t understand it. I had picked up some of the local language, but there were so many dialects in the region that I hadn’t a chance to learn everything. “You look like a man running from the world,” he easily repeated, this time in Latin. I was a little surprised that he spoke Latin, but the Roman Empire had been far-reaching at its height. He could have at one time fallen within its grasp. I shook my head and silently continued to walk. He knew I had understood his question, but I had no desire to speak to this strange, little man. I noticed as I passed him his smile slipped a bit from his thin lips and his eyes narrowed on me as if studying my features. “Was it worth it?” he called after me. I paused for a moment, and turned so that I look at him over my shoulder. “The deal you made with the demon. Was it worth it?” he continued. I froze in the middle of the dirt road, my eyes never wavering from his thin face. Despite the beating sun, a chill ran down my spine. No one had ever spoken of the demon. As far as I knew, the only other person who knew of such a deal was my mother and she had been dead for several decades. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I slowly said, then turned on my heel to continue walking. The little man gave a soft snort of disbelief and pushed to his feet. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him hurry along on his short legs to catch up with me. My right hand moved closer to my sword, but I forced myself to relax. His hands were empty and he carried no weapons beside a small knife on his belt. “I can see the shadow across your spirit. You’ve been dealing with a demon,” he continued with confidence. “You should talk to my wife. She sees these things more clearly than me. Maybe she can help. My name is Bodhi. What are you called?” “Danaus,” I said, my brows drawn over the bridge of my nose. I didn’t understand how this little man knew of my past, but he showed no horror or fear. He was relaxed and had returned to mindlessly whistling his little tune as we walked down the dirt road. After a couple of miles, he turned off the road to my right and waved for me to follow him through a break in the trees to a pasture. Within the field were three wagons brought into a semi-circle. Tents were pitched and a fire was dancing in the center. Children ran and laughed as they chased each other around the field. Women of varying ages cooked and sewed, laughing together as they spoke. There were also a few men nearby chopping wood or tending to the horses. One young woman rose from her seat at the fire and disappeared into one of the colorful wagons for a moment. Everyone else paused in their activities and stared silently at me. I was about to turn and leave when the young woman reappeared followed by an older woman with graying black hair and wide, blue eyes. Bodhi smiled and walked over to the older woman, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I found Danaus,” he announced, sounding as if he had located a great prize. “You must see to him.” The woman nodded and walked over toward me. As she came over, all the others returned to their work. “Danaus, this is my wife, Kerani.” Kerani reached out and grabbed both of my wrists in her rough hands and turned my hands over so that she could look at my open palms. She ran her hands down mine, pressing her thumb along the palms of my hands and down my fingers. Releasing my hands, she then stood up on the tips of her toes and placed her hands on either side of my face, pulling me down slightly so that she could look into my eyes, then pulled on my chin so that she could look in my mouth. I jerked away from the old woman, having the feeling that she was inspecting me the same way a person inspects a bit of horseflesh before buying it. “You need to eat,” she suddenly said, her Latin sounding a great deal rougher than Bodhi’s. She then turned back to the women sitting near the fire and starting shouting brisk orders that sent them running on their various tasks. “What’s going on?” I demanded. “She says you need food,” Bodhi easily said, motioning for me to follow him to the fire. Feeling a bit uneasy, I sat beside him at the fire. I listened as he pointed out various members of his family. He had six sons and two daughters. All but one of his sons and one of his daughters were married now. He also had fourteen grandchildren, which also traveled with him. Only one son and daughter-in-law resided permanently in a tiny village to the south of their current location. Bodhi told me of how his family had begun traveling nearly three generations ago, moving from place to place, fulfilling odd jobs and helping with the fall harvest. They were also healers and soothsayers. It was an old family tradition. That day and into the night, he told me of his family. He told me stories of his father and grandfathers and his brothers who had started their own caravans and were traveling the world. He told me of being there to hear the first cries of his children and then grandchildren. He told me stories of love and laughter and pain. People of the caravan drifted to the fire during the day, adding their own stories to Bodhi’s tapestry and then drifted away again like ghosts. As night deepened around us, someone picked out a melancholy tune on a lute just beyond the reach of the firelight. Most had gone to sleep for the night when Kerani joined Bodhi and me in the flickering light. “You were not the one to make the deal with the demon,” Kerani suddenly announced into the silence that had settled comfortably around us. It was the first time anyone had spoken of the demon since I had stepped into the circle of the caravan. “How did you know?” I asked. It was silly at this point to try to deny something that both of them obviously saw. “It does not have all of your soul. The shadow is faint within you. If you had made the deal, you would either be dead or it would own all of your soul,” she answered. I told them what my mother told me of her deal with the demon. I spoke of the fact that it would one day come for me, but I had yet to see this monster. I left out the part about her gruesome death, because I was already enough of a monster in my own eyes. I did not need to see if reflected in theirs. Kerani nodded in understanding, while Bodhi shook his head sadly, a frown pulling at his lips for the first time since I had met him. “Is there a way to free myself of the demon?” I asked. “I do not know of any way to free yourself of the demon’s deal. A human’s soul is their only tie to this world. They need it and will not willingly give up such a valuable commodity. Not unless you can offer up all someone else’s soul in place of yours.” I frowned, losing myself in the flickering flames. Even if I had the power to do such a thing, I wouldn’t. I couldn’t hand over another human being to a demon. Of course, I hadn’t the power to volunteer another person’s soul. To my knowledge, only a mother could do such a thing to her unborn child because she is in complete possession of the young being. “Is he old?” Bodhi suddenly asked, looking over at his wife. She narrowed her eyes at me as she gazed over the fire at my face. Then she threw her head back and deeply laughter, grabbing Bodhi’s arm to steady herself. “He is older than you,” she chuckled. “I am impressed,” Bodhi laughed, patting his wife’s hand. “Come, it is late.” Kerani leaned over and pressed a kiss to her husband’s wrinkled cheek. From the shadows, a young woman brought over a thick quilt and handed it to me. It was too hot to lie under blanket, but it would provide a nice cushion for the hard ground. “Sleep, Danaus,” Bodhi said, patting my shoulder as he slowly rose to his feet. “Tomorrow you will go with me to hunt.” “I have to move on,” I said. “And go where?” he asked with a little smile. “Tomorrow we hunt.” I paused staring at the strange, little man as he stretched out his old muscles. “Why were you sitting on the side of the road today?” I asked as he started to walk away. Bodhi stood by the fire, shadows dancing across his smiling face. His voice dropped to something as soft as a summer breeze. “I was waiting for you.” I remained with Bodhi and his family for the next decade, traveling and completing odd jobs along with his sons and grandsons. I learned their stories and their different beliefs. I learned languages and histories of the peoples they had met over the years. I had been with his family for nearly two years before I finally asked Bodhi about the creature I met in Rome the night I killed my mother. I described its movement and the sharp craving for blood. It was the only time I had ever seen Bodhi look afraid. We had been hunting that afternoon and he paused to sit down with his back against a tree. His small hands shook and his face had grown pale at my description. When he finally seemed settled again, he told me of a son that had been killed by just such a creature when he had been only sixteen. He spoke of amazing speed and strength. He told me of glowing green eyes and skin as pale as snow. He described such things that it became hard to discern whether some of it was myth or real. I couldn’t imagine a real being having the ability to fly. He told me other legends of such creatures, giving them several names, but there was one that has persisted through the ages: vampire. He made me promise that I would kill all vampires I encountered. He said that I should use my unique strength and healing to rid the world of all such dark creatures. He also made me promise to never speak of the vampire I saw to his family, especially his wife. It was a dark memory for them and they did not wish for it to cast a shadow across the happy memories of their lost son. Years later, I was there when Bodhi finally died one cold, autumn night from an illness that had eaten away at him for nearly a month. He died smiling, with his family around him. They held his thin hands and told stories of their travels together. After he was buried in the earth, I traveled with his family south. I stayed with them until they were safely tucked away with the son that had settled in a village with his wife. I stayed to see that Kerani was safe and then I returned to the winding road that led farther away from Rome and Bodhi. I traveled east, moving over mountains and through vast plains, skirting deserts where I could. I stopped long enough in one village or another to learn a language. I traveled to the Far East and studied ancient fighting styles that took advantage of my speed instead of depending on my strength. I studied ancient stories that contained more tales of vampires and other dark creatures that at one time appeared to be more myth than reality. But after meeting a vampire I had to wonder. Occasionally, I would run across a person who I knew could see the shadow across my soul, but they never looked at me with the same warmth and compassion that I saw filling the eyes of Kerani and Bodhi. It was always with a look of fear and horror.
|
|||
Available Now |
||
Pray For Dawn |
||
Wait for Dusk |
||
-A Design By Drake Production-