He fell to his knees with a pained grunt as the arrow in his thigh shifted and dug in. Falling forward, be bowed onto the floor to pay the god striding toward him honor and respect.
“Pater Patrum, Father of Fathers!” Lucius cried out, struggling to scramble backwards in terror. He hoped the respectful address given to the most important of Mithras’s adherents would work as a respectful mode of address. “Forgive me for intruding upon your sanctuary.”
“Speak thy name,” Mithras boomed.
“Lucius, Father of Fathers. Lucius Silvanius Ferrata, a centurio of the Roman Legions. I have been sent on behalf of Roma’s Imperator and on the order of the pater patrum who servers the Imperator.”
“I ordered the finest warriors of Roma to be sent to me, yet you are alone.” Mithras continued his slow advance toward Lucius.
Lucius swallowed and licked his lips, trying to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. “I am not alone. A legionnaire of Roma is with me, though he is nearly unconscious and may soon succumb to his injuries, and an Armenian boy of noble blood.”
Mithras looked toward the back of the temple from whence Lucius had come. “I have no use for boys or the nearly dead.” Mithras brought the intensity of his gaze back onto Lucius. “Rise to your knees, Centurio of Roma.”
Lucius pushed back, rising to sit on his knees, though he tried to shift his weight so it rested on his good leg.
“And what rank amongst my servants do you hold, Centurio?” Mithras inquired, reducing the power of his voice.
“I have achieved the fifth rank of Perses through the graces of holy Selene, Father of Fathers,” Lucius replied, keeping his eyes on the elegantly tiled floor between himself and the god.
Stepping forward, Mithras bent over. Lucius forced himself to hold still and not pull away from the god. It took nearly all his remaining reserves to not wince away from the overwhelming presence of Mithras standing before him. While Selene was silk, Mithras was the iron fist she covered. Mithras, reaching out, placed his hands on Lucius’s head, one on each side over his temples.
Lucius jolted, his eyes opening wide and his body going rigid. As his jaw dropped, a deep scream ripped from his lips, reverberating off the walls and ceiling. Mithras looked into Lucius’s soul, his touch far from gentle as he sifted through Lucius’s life and deeds. Lucius could feel his lungs burning for want of air, yet the scream still sounded. He could nearly feel his vocal cords tearing.
When Mithras found what he was looking for, he released Lucius. All muscles ceased functioning, and Lucius slumped to the ground, his chest heaving as he pulled air into his starved lungs. After a while, Lucius’s vision cleared, and he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. A line of spittle dribbled off his lip, falling to the stone floor below him. Raising a shaking arm, he shoved the back of his hand across his lips, wiping his mouth clean.
Lucius set his jaw and raised his head, his body unsteady. His gaze ran up the length of Mithras but stopped before meeting the god’s eyes. Pushing back onto his knees, he rested his hands on his thighs, wincing when he bumped the broken arrow shaft. He wobbled in place, swaying in a sloppy circle.
Mithras straightened to his full height. “Are you willing to serve?”
Lucius heard the god’s voice not only in his ears, but in his head as if Mithras spoke directly into his soul. “Aye, Father of Fathers.” It hurt to speak through his wounded throat; his words were weak and raspy.
“Until the task I lay upon you is done?” Mithras boomed.
While those words reverberated through the room, images of the monsters that had pursued them relentlessly at night flashed through his mind, bringing with it the helpless feeling of being hunted and viewed as nothing but prey. Friends were torn from saddles and ripped to pieces. Horses shrieked until their throats disappeared at the end of the monster’s claws. He’d known fear as he stood in a battle line headed into combat, but the terror the di inferi inspired dwarfed any feeling of fright he’d ever experienced. The images, at first in his mind, surrounded him as the temple faded to dark around him. When he thought he could handle no more, the images shifted until a magnificent figure stood lit in the center of chaos.
Instead of the scared Centurion fleeing before their onslaught as he tried to save as many of his men as he could, he saw a man strong and filled with wrath, standing before the blood-thirsty creatures, a black cloak billowing out behind him as he waded into the middle of monsters, laying about with his sword, slaying the creatures pitilessly. Calm confidence and strength replaced the hopeless terror he’d felt earlier. When the horde of di inferi were put down to the last one, Lucius, or the Lucius Mithras offered to make him, stood triumphant in the middle of the decaying corpses of the undead di inferi, black sludge-like blood dripping from his gladius.
Mithras’s voice sounded in Lucius’s mind, his tone gentler but still overwhelming. You will become my weapon against the dark creatures who seek the blood of the living, who seek to corrupt life into the undead. You will be my avatar on this world and defend humanity from the monsters who seek to feed upon it.
Lucius had protected the borders of the empire for almost half of his life. Now he was being called to protect humanity from a rising scourge. The high-minded ideal quickly faded and was replaced with the horror he’d barely kept contained since Gorneae. Now that he knew true monsters existed, he didn’t want to spend his life soaked in the dread of running into them again. If he accepted Mithras’s offer, he wouldn’t be powerless before the creatures who’d dogged his trail every night and sown panic and death in their wake. They’d fear him, the bulwark that separated the monsters from humanity. He’d be able to stand against them and train others to stand with him. “Aye, Father of Fathers. I will serve until you release me.”
“DONE!” Mithras reached out and shoved his hand into Lucius’s chest, lifting him to his feet.
Mithras wrapped his hand around Lucius’s heart, and his entire body spasmed as pain seared him body and soul. The god was the only thing that held Lucius’s body upright; his arms flopped out to the sides and his knees gave way. Once again, he screamed, though no sound emerged. Every inch of his body burned as the god exerted his power on Lucius. The spot on his thigh where the arrow was lodged throbbed in agony, and a small tendril of smoke rose from the wound until the shaft and arrowhead disappeared. All throughout his body, his wounds were scoured clean with fire, and his organs felt like they were pulsing with heat as Mithras rewrote Lucius’s body and his destiny through every fiber of his being. When he thought he could take no more, Mithras pulled his hand from Lucius’s chest, letting him collapse into a heap for the second time.
He lay in a disheveled pile, his eyes staring blankly at the altar at the front of the Mithraeum until his body ceded back control to him. Once he could focus his eyes, he was shocked to see the altar had changed. The bull, still stone, lay dead on its side, its tongue flopped out of its mouth. A stream of blood ran from the wound at its neck.
Joining Mithras, the figure of Sol Invictus stepped down from his chariot and strode toward the center of the altar until he emerged into reality like Mithras had earlier. The two gods clasped hands, renewing their sacred covenant, then sat on the fallen bull. Mithras raised his hands to chest height, palms up. A wide, shallow bowl with two handles and a base featuring scenes of Mithras winding around the rim in red-brown clay appeared in his hands.
Mithras tipped the kylix to his lips and drank deeply before handing it to Sol Invictus to drink of the divine wine. The two gods in the foreground blurred in Lucius’s vision as they drank. His focus moved to the gentle silver light emanating from the corner where Selene dismounted from her chariot and strolled down to join the two goods.
The beauty of the goddess nearly robbed him of his breath as she stood tall and elegant, the gentlest of pink coloring her pale cheeks.
“My brother.” Selene bowed her head to Sol.
Even in his current state, her grace pulled at his heart.
Sol smiled at the moon goddess. “Sister.”
She turned to Mithras and smiled at him. “Mihr, my friend.”
For the first time since Mithras had stepped out of the stone, warmth blossomed in his eyes as he held Selene with affection in his gaze. “My dearest Selene.”
Extending her arms, Selene took the offered kylix from her brother and raised it to her lips. With a satisfied sigh, she passed the kylix to Mithras and walked around the fallen bull toward Lucius.
She lowered herself in front of him and reached down, running a soft hand along Lucius’s jaw until her finger stopped under his chin. “Rise, my brave soldier.”
The contact of her skin against his calmed his breathing and soothed the dull ache he’d been left with after Mithras had laid his hand upon Lucius’s soul. He pushed himself off the ground and onto his knees, feeling light as if the goddess were lifting him with the single finger still held under his chin.
The soft smile on her face transfixed Lucius and held him steady as she leaned to his left, placing her lips by his ear while holding her palm against his cheek. His skin tingled under her hand as warmth spread through his body. He wanted to cover her hand with his but dared not risk it.
“The night is your domain now. My gift to you is clear perception and bright vision. No more will the darkness shroud your eyes nor will the creatures who hunt the night be able to cloud your mind,” Selene whispered into his ear, then kissed his forehead, clearing the last of the fogginess of pain and deprivation. Then she leaned to his other ear and whispered into it. “Now you must learn the secrets of the creatures, those shrouded deep in antiquity.”
In his mind, she took him back to the depths of history, showing him the origin of the creatures who waited for him. Dark gods he’d never heard of became known to him as they plotted their vile deeds. The first creatures they created were nothing like the drinkers of blood. The lupine creatures had rebelled against their creators, seeking the protection of Selene and Artemis. Although the dark gods had failed in their first attempt to create monsters to carry out their will, their second attempt succeeded in warping humans into the soulless monsters who’d hunted him since Gorneae. For them, there was no redemption possible, not without the spark that made them human stolen from them and destroyed. The goddess’s vision left him breathing heavily at the horror of the di inferi’s creation, but he felt even more committed to the divine mission he’d accepted if it meant protecting humans from becoming those monsters.
When she finished her tale, she stood, offering her hand to Lucius. “Now stand, my champion of the night.”
Lucius, his body trembling from the stress and the desire to hold the goddess’s hand, reached up and took her hand in his and let himself be helped to his feet. Holding his hand, she led him to the two deities sitting on the carcass of the slain bull.
