Legends of the Silurians: Ariana

Chapter Two.

“Mairi! He's back! He's back,” Anice sang as she danced over to me, “And he's asking for you, of course.”

My head jerked up from the mug of beer I was filling as I heard the exciting news and asked in a bright tone, “He is?”

“Mhm. Why are you so excited? You said you didn't like him,” she asked me skeptically with a teasing smile on her face.

My face turned red and I returned my attention to the mug of ale, “I don't. I'm just happy we didn't lose another customer.”

I knew it was a poor excuse, but it was the first one that popped into my mind. She stared at me in bewilderment and disbelief as I shoved the mug into her hands and sashayed my way over to the usual seat on the end corner of the bar.

“Hey, you're back,” I said cheerfully once I reached him.

“Yeah...I'm back,” he said, his voice dark with gloom, looking up at me with a weak smile.

“What's wrong?” I asked concerned as I got him some beer.

“I was given another assassination mission; I was ordered to kill just one man, but they said that if he was with his family I was to also kill them. Well, I went to his home, hoping that he would be in his house alone, but of course he wasn't. His whole family was there: his wife, his teenage daughter, and little baby boy. They were just sitting down to dinner when I arrived; I killed all of them, even the little baby boy,” he told me, putting his head in between his palms, “I mean, I know its my job to assassinate people, but I had to kill a little baby. . . .a baby. I don't like what I do, but I have no other choice.

“The worst part of the whole ordeal was killing the girl; she had eyes almost the same shade of violet as a girl I'd shown mercy to once. Of course, she was an enemy and, at the time, the only reason I did show her mercy was because I knew that her people thought it was complete heresy to be shown mercy on the battlefield if you lose. But, now I'm beginning to think maybe it was something more than that. . . .Oh, I just don't know anymore. Still, I do wonder what happened to that girl. . .rumors have it that she was and perhaps still is one of the best fighters in the Silure Tribe,” he said, returning his gaze to my face.

She's right here, I thought, escaping his searching eyes. His stool scraped the floor as he started to get up and I returned to reality.

“Thanks for listening to my problems all the time, Mairi, it seems like you're the only one I can trust at times,” he said, drinking the rest of the alcohol left in his mug as he stood up.

“Any time, Marcus,” I told him and watched as he walked out the door.

He still doesn't know, I thought as I walked to the back of the bar to my sleeping quarters to watch him leave from my window. It's only been one year and yet he still doesn't recognize me. Well, maybe it's not bad. . .I don't want people to know who I am, yet, especially him. Oh, to go back to that one fateful day. Perhaps if I had done things differently I would still go by the name Ariana. The memory of the first day I met Marcus clouded my mind, and I went back to when I had first arrived here.

After I had wallowed in my own misery for a full night, I willed myself to get up and take care of my injured ankle. After wrapping my ankle in some cloth I had ripped off of a man's tunic, I set off towards the west not knowing where I would be going. My only plan for the time being was to wander the woods. Well, it didn't take long for the Romans to find me.

As I wandered through the shaded forest, I ran into a Roman regiment heading home to, Caerwent, also known as Venta Silurum, a town established for the so called “defeated Silurians”. I tried to hide before they could come upon me, but they saw me before I was hidden and brought me to their commander. He noticed that I was part of the Silure tribe from the fading war paint and my tattered brown, sweat-stained tunic. Unfortunately, I was on their territory and they did have the right to kill me, but the commander had told me I could stay in Caerwent as long as they could use my services when needed. After agreeing with their terms, they took me to their city.

When we reached the city they took me to a bar where I'd be working and staying at and that's where I'd met Anice, a beautiful, somewhat plump, blond with clear, sea blue eyes.

I'd thought she'd be horrified by the sight of me, but she, instead, smiled warmly at me and gave me suitable clothing to wear. At first I was quite bitter; I could not accept what had become of myself. Becoming a servant. . .no, more like a dog, to the Romans was the one thing I would die before doing, and I ended up becoming that one thing: a dog. My anger towards this seeped out of me and affected those around me, but Anice's attitude towards me never changed. No matter what I said to her or how badly I treated our customers, she never one shouted or yelled at me. I soon realized that I just couldn't hate her for that, and soon the demon of rage within me was tamed little by little. We became best friends later on and shortly after I met Marcus.

It was a busy night at the bar and Anice was occupied with cleaning up a mess someone had made after partaking in too much ale, so, consequently, I had to take care of the customers.

As I moved toward the end of the bar I stood frozen in my footsteps when I recognized who the person was. Anger sizzled in my blood and I was sure he'd recognize me too. I was tempted to ask Anice to take care of him, but she was already busy enough. This left me no other option but to attend to the man I hated so deeply.

At first I was hostile towards him as he came to the bar regularly, but I also got to know him more because of it. I was surprised when I found out who he was.

He detested killing people, but he was forced into the profession without a choice. He had a very kind, patient, and hearty personality. He rarely got angry, but when he did he was nothing to be trifled with, as I'd seen in the bar a few times.

After that I became his regular server and I got to know him much better, perhaps more than I would have liked. I mulled over the possibility of my liking him, and I was horrified to realize that I might have feelings for him. As I was discovering this new terrifying realization Anice broke into my thoughts saying,” Well everyone's gone, finally. What a long night!”

Looking out of the window, I realized that dawn was breaking through the darkness of nighttime.

“Mairi, are you okay? You've been so quiet since Marcus left,” she asked, taking in my appearance.

“Yes, I'm fine,” I answered, startled for some reason, “I think I'm going to go out.”

“Out! Do you have any idea what time it is?” she exclaimed, worry and shock etched on her face.

“Don't worry, I'll be fine. You know I'm a good fighter,” I reassured my nervous friend.

“Yes, but that still doesn't keep me from worrying about you.”

I smiled at her in appreciation for her concern and briskly walked out of my bedroom door, grabbing a thick black shawl on my way. There was someone I was in dire need of seeing.

When I walked out into the cold, crisp late fall weather I noticed that fog was still polluting the air even though there was a faint orange glow from the sun as it climbed over the trees surrounding the city's walls. After seeing this, I knew I would barely be able to see my way through town to reach where she lived.

As I made my way to the center of the city my hypothesis had been proven correct. As I walked further and further into the heart of the town the fog just became worse and continued to thicken. I sighed. It's always like this, no matter how clear of a day it was there's always a thin or thick, depending on the weather of the day, layer of fog surrounding the heart of the city where the church lays. Is this really necessary? I thought to myself, shaking my head with disapproval.

Even though it was past dawn, the city was silent; not one single noise of a wagon bustling about or the cheery chatter of the townsfolk could be heard. The only sound that occupied the stone streets and wooden houses was the clank-clank of a soldier relieving another soldier of his post, (there was always a soldier at every street corner in the town) and the soft tap of my boots as they hit the cobble-stoned road.

Finally, after taking the well memorized routes through town, I reached my destination: the lone Catholic church situated in the center of the city for everyone to see as they went about their daily routine. I smiled at the slightly invisible cathedral that hovered over me, taking in all the architects of the warm welcoming building.

In all, there were five steeples: two in front on either side of the huge wooden arched doors that were delicately engraved with an assortment of intricate designs, two were in the back, and there was also one in the middle that was also known as the “bell tower”. Stained glass windows lined the outer and inner walls of the looming church, some even reached from the roof of the building all the way to the floor. It was a beautifully structured cathedral.

I took the marble steps leading up to the two huge wooden doors two at a time, eager to embrace the cozy interior of the church. It took all of my strength to open just one of the engraved doors. When I let go of it after I'd pushed my way into the large sanctuary, it closed with a loud thud that echoed off of the walls, making the stained glass windows rattle. One of these days all of these beautiful windows are going to shatter from all the vibrations from those two doors, I thought in sadness.

Without wasting time, I walked down the aisle that separated the rows of wooden pews adorned with velvet cushions. About two yards in front of the benches was a table positioned in front of a tall wooden pulpit with a red cloth bordered with gold fringe covering the tabletop. Atop the rich expensive cloth was a golden plate of flat bread that was always there for those who wished to pray to God. Beside the table were two glowing lit candle lamp stands, the only light in the room besides the dim rays of light shining through the windows, which showered the room with a rainbow of colors, from the rising sun.

Kneeling on the icy cold marble floor, I took a small piece of the thin bland bread, placed it into my mouth, ate it, and faked a small prayer. After, what I considered a suitable amount of time, I slowly lifted my stiff legs from my current position, and swept my eyes over the entire sanctuary, making sure there was no one observing me. After reassuring myself that there was no one in the room, I tiptoed my way over to my right where a black molding wooden door was hidden by a tall marble pillar. A sign, that was somehow still somewhat visible in the dim lighting, was placed on the door that read in big bold red letters: “Do NOT Enter!”.

Ignoring the sign, my fingers reached for, what I presumed was, the middle of the door, and successfully found the rusting round knob. I turned the knob and thrust all my weight onto the heavy door. It opened up, revealing a musky vine-inhabited hall that was, just like outside, flooded with the ever-present fog. Irritation spilled over me.

“What in Pryderi's name are you up to?” I exclaimed in a soft voice.

“I heard that,” a female's eerie voice responded coolly, surrounding me.

I still hate it when you do that, I grumbled to myself and continued walking after shutting the old door.

The crunch of dead vines breaking under my feet resonated throughout the hallway as I made my way to the end. I threw my hands up in the air when I spotted the origin of the massive clump of fog. One side of a small stained glass window had been opened, letting fog infiltrate the already small enough corridor. Isn't there enough fog outside, let alone inside?

As I turned to my left I found that she'd already cracked open the forever locked door, saving me the tedious work of finding which marble brick popped out to reveal a big key to open the door. I stepped past the threshold onto a wooden step, one of many that spiraled down. I took a deep breath and began my journey to the cathedral's basement.

After taking a wobbly step off of the last step, I finally found the person I had been searching for. She was leaning over the bubbling pit of who-knows-what.

“Merlin, what in the devil's name are you doing!”