I - Elders of the Umbrae
Once upon a time, fantasies were made up fables. Theodora did not exist during this so called time, but had learned of its existence from a traveling merchant, while out training for war.
The forgotten time called to her heart every time she opened the forbidden books that the man had sold her. But, the razor sharp threat of war ripped her fantasies apart and made any hopes of freedom unobtainable without the spilling of blood. Freedom would not be found in the yellowed pages of a forbidden novel. And yet, she felt more and more rebellious, turning to these illicit means for freedom. What harm could it do?
Looking for answers, she went to her father, Gaius, being very careful not to mention the books. He had suggested that she learn the traditions of her tribe, the Umbrae. Her father had raised her on the Umbrae morals: actus non facit reum nisi mes sit rea, that the act is not guilty unless the mind is also guilty. He told her the first Umbrian people named their tribe after their founders, who were dubbed ghosts by the only rival they let live long enough to spread the word of the three men who had attacked him in the forest one night. When they were certain that the word was spread, they hunted the man down and brought the body to man’s family—there were no signs of blood on the man; whispers in the dark claimed that he had passed from fright.
In her village, the elders make up the council that rule over all Umbrian peoples; they dress in golden robes and conceal their faces with masks, which depict ancient gods. Some elders had been alive since the Pugionis tribe, the daggers, destroyed the ancient world. Only the elders know of the reasons and actions behind the destruction, but chose not to speak of the past.
The elders only speak when necessary and when they do, a scholar documents every word. It was rumored that there was a room in the council building that contained a library, which was home to all the elders’ words since the beginning. If the elders words were ever questioned or the rules of the tribe broken, the rebel who voiced these questions would be subject to death under the vox laws, no matter the severity of their offence.
Every year during tribal festival, an elder would tell the tale of the unspoken traitor. Theodora knew that the tale was designed to strike fear in the hearts of possible traitors; claiming that even doubting the elders’ ways in secret was deserving of death.
Last year, in an act of desperation, the elders introduced confessionals into the tribes’ routine. Theodora confessed to her fears, while anyone who confessed to doubting or disobeying orders was tortured, and then burned alive. The ambiguity of the rules made them hard to follow and all of the Umbrian citizens were in a perpetual state of apprehension. So, she followed what she could and confessed to what she didn’t, and she trained to be the best, pushing her limits in every separate struggle. She kept the image of the screaming, faceless people out of her mind and ignored her fear of replacing the image with reality and the faceless with herself. She could never imagine that pain, she never wanted to find out what it felt like to have your skin melt.
The world was in a constant state of war and Theodora knew only of the techniques needed to make the perfect kill. Her tribe demanded unwavering strength training everyday; fighting alone was prohibited and all training was to be done with an elder. The elder who was assigned to join her sessions, Mars, was the strongest of the twenty, and although his specific age was unknown to her and his appearance gave nothing away, she could tell that he was the youngest by the way he walked with youthful arrogance.
It was on one of these very “mission” where her view to the world that she had known was draped in the shadows of creatures she never knew existed and the people she had once trusted became a dark blur, merging with obscurity.
Mars had no words for her, and had yet to speak once they left the council building. He only motioned with his hands and hid his expression with his porcelain mask. Theodora read faces well, but with his mask, her relationship with Mars was as unemotional as the expression that permanently rested upon his frozen visage.
The elder knew that Theodora had been training for five years and that she was getting closer to becoming a polished warrior, one that would gladly give their life to the Umbrae. All of the elders had been watching her advancement closely, for they could not deny her dexterity in every task that she had been bestowed. For Mars, it was his task to watch her even closer, to ensure that she never expressed any distain towards the Umbrian laws and to see if she could be trusted.
The other gods had told him that he would be surprised by the words that would be shared while you fought close with a person for years. Unfortunately, Theodora was a woman of little words as well and the silence between them was filled with an understanding of a common goal that was present between allies. The elders knew of this undisturbed silence and it bothered them deeply.
She might become too strong for their tactics and she may need to be broken, so that all her secrets would spill and eventually her black blood. Another unspoken traitor would burn.
II – The Black Blooded
The scent of burning flesh was common amongst the sweetness of the morning air. Not one of the villagers expressed any protests to the smell as they had become accustomed to keeping almost everything to themselves, especially their complaints of death by burning at the stake. The young woman was burning and the villagers hung their heads, praying in secret for the woman to die a quick and painless death. Her shrieks constantly pulled their futile prayers apart and made their rapid steps much quicker. All together, avoiding the stakes made a simple errand time consuming, but it was time that was desperately needed to remain isolated from the watchful inquisitors, or “death dealers” as many villagers referred to them. The paths were filled with many innocents while broken people with broken faces crowded the stakes, getting crazed pleasure from this heinous way of cleansing souls.
They thought to themselves that these were the people that should be burning, not the victims of accusations based on fear. It was easy for the inquisitors to find distraught individuals willing to accuse another person of being a traitor and for trying to talk to another about the rules that prevented them from doing so. The inquisitors were finding the anguish of the black blooded amusingly pathetic.
Since the beginning, the rules had been put in place to make a perfect society. A utopian society, one without civil violence, contaminated thoughts or actions, hatred or vulgarity and weakness. This was the elders’ dream and they would do anything possible to achieve it, even if it meant enforcing perfection with the threat of death. That was the way to ensure that what happened to the ancient world, would not happen to the Umbrae. Technically, the elders did not enforce the laws they only made them. It was the inquisitors that were to be feared and hated for what the elders told them to do. These people were chosen by their loyalty and strength. The problem was that many were too weak to withstand the power of a bribe.
“These present laws are not enough to prevent the traitors from flourishing in our weak state. Yes. Weak.” The leader of the elders’ discussion paused for effect and contemplation. “Something needs to be done to our weaknesses and by weaknesses, I mean the black blooded.”
The scribe quickly scratched out the last few lines knowing full well that any mention of weakness or the black blooded was meant to be uttered, not read in the future. The elder turned to the scribe and asked the man, for the first time in the scribe’s ten years, to leave. The scribe might have been unfamiliar with the situation, but he made the assumption that if he were to stay his paper would be empty of information and full of thick black slashes.
“Now we can speak freely.”
The whole room erupted with a multitude of ideas, most considered crazy, the others not even considered. The elder instantly regretted his previous remark and he began shaking with anger as more voices joined with the chorus.
“Stop. I have realized that this discussion is useless.”
When his words were swallowed up by the pandemonium, the elder stood up from his chair and slammed his chalice on the table, using enough force to make the wine slosh out onto the tabletop and onto his golden robe. The noise receded as fast as it began and the councilmen looked to their leader. Through clenched teeth and a mind obscured with outrage from being ignored, the elder managed to say, “Leave now. I need to think about what has been said.”
After the last imbecile had left the council room, the elder finally managed to clam down enough to face the problems at hand. He was paranoid, that was true, but what if the source his paranoia revealed to be true as well? The inquisitors had failed him time after time by allowing themselves to be bribed by men, proving they were no stronger than the men who bribed them. There was a weakness in his elaborate system and the very system was failing. The reasons for the black blooded deaths will have lost effect if the people realize that money can save their souls. The black blooded will be looked at as the poor who could not afford the bribe, not as the heretics that they had been accused.
The red wine on his robe clearly had made a stain, he thought as he looked down his front. Indifferent to his nakedness, the elder pulled the robe it over his head to fling it over his chair.
Turning towards the scribe’s seat, the elder noticed that the man had left his documentation book on his chair. He picked it up and started to flip through the pages, until he came to the end of the book. Black slashes littered the last few pages, but all of the pages were full of proof that the elders had been struggling with the control of the Umbrians.
I am the ruler of the gods, I am Jupiter and this is my right.
Making sure that no one was watching, the elder moved to the open fireplace, threw the document into the yearning flames and like the many documents that had been misplaced the same way, the elder made sure that blackness permanently erased the atrocious history of the traitors that had been come to be known as the black blooded.
III – The Copious Faults of the Punionians
What a beautiful specimen she was.
Mars was intrigued with Theodora; she was unlike any woman that he had ever trained. Her mind was void of any distractions and she only thought of the kill.
Can’t you see that she is distracting you?
Theodora used her flame spell on an alauda that had set its hungry eyes on her own fiery ones. It let out a squawk and fell to her feet, to be dissolved by the soil.
Mars scolded her in his always-condescending manor, “If you are going to kill a sky demon, make sure that it poses a threat to you. An alauda is not worth a second look.”
She nodded, knowing that he was right, but still hating the fact that he was always right. Then again, the creature had targeted her. Still, she knew better than to open her mouth to a superior. Her father had drilled that fact far enough into her head as she grew up.
With lips glued shut, but with a burning face, Theodora concentrated on the back of Mars’s head and the pleasing image of an arrow sticking out of it.
“Now let’s find a demon worth one of your, gifts.”
His resonant voice rang in her ears and reminded her that her spells were uncommon and the concept that they caused resentment among other fighters always caught her off guard. The jealousy hidden underneath his innocent suggestion was partly due to his own inability to cast spells. As the god of war he could only fight with his steel manmade weapons. This forced him to place reliance on something other than himself, so he made his body into steel to make up for his dependence.
Mars pushed by and motioned for her to follow him into the woods. She couldn’t help but notice how attractive and strong his body was and that when he went by he had touched her arm slightly, but she soon struck those thoughts from her mind as she warned herself of the penalties.
If she were to confess to her lust, Theodora would be branded, a torture tool reserved for women, thus making her unfit for marriage. Marriage was to be beneficial to the whole tribe so, a marriage built on lust would only tear apart the morals that the Umbrians had been built around.
These poisonous thoughts plagued her every minute. Theodora desperately sought freedom from the evil that followed behind her every move, getting closer and closer with every stumble. She found it impossible to walk through everyday life, as jutting stones had been placed on her path by malicious hands.
They had been walking for hours on a path that just allowed for them to walk single file. The ancient trees, which made a roof over the path, blocked their eyes from the sun’s hurtful glare, kept them cool and let them quicken their pace, to wherever they were going. She desperately wanted to ask the elder the details of their journey, but strange apprehension prevented her from doing so. Soon, Theodora no longer recognized her surroundings.
A rustle, one caused by something much bigger than any demon she had ever encountered, came from the trees to her right. Turning her body in that direction, Theodora caught sight of a figure, either man or woman, drenched in what looked like blood. Whether it was the figure’s blood or not was what made her try to take a step closer, only to find Mars’s hand on her shoulder.
“Stop. I’ll deal with it.” His voice was even more muffled than usual behind the mask. “Whatever it is.”
