Free Exiles of Arcadia: Legionnaire by James Gawley

throes, it’s very important that I be present to help him through it.” She looked back at him. “That’s why this is a bad time.”
    “I don’t understand. The hierophant prayed with us just this morning. He took auguries.” The priest had helped them seal a pact with Jupiter to safeguard their journey. He had not seemed   drugged, or dangerous to himself. “He promised us Jupiter’s blessing.”
    She just looked into his eyes. She looked guilty. “I really have to go now, Primus. And you must go too. But I wish you luck on your journey.” She clasped him by both shoulders, and stood on tiptoe to plant a swift kiss on the side of his jaw. “Be safe,” she whispered. Then she was gone, dashing back into the darkened temple, the hem of her white robes bunched up in one hand.
    Primus stood there for a long time, staring after her. He could still feel the press of her lips on his cheek. Somnia had told him of the hierophant’s habit; she had not needed to tell him that he must keep it secret.  
    For a time, Primus stood absorbed in thought. Auguries were frequent at the citadel, and they were always, always favorable. Did the gods truly favor their actions, or were the priest’s reassurances simply the price he paid to obtain his strange drug? Primus thought of the rattle of papyrus as the hierophant held a scroll open in trembling hands, while Somnia stood at his elbow. Did she stand at his elbow now, while he breathed in this poison?
    As he stood alone in the courtyard, the sound of raised voices reached him from within the temple. Primus glanced around, reminded that he was absent from his barracks without permission. But all was quiet in the camp; there was only the distant roar of the waterfall and the sound of voices from within the temple. Someone inside was shouting. He started back across the lawn, telling himself he did not intend to eavesdrop. He was not looking to learn secrets that didn’t belong to him; he only wanted to be sure that Somnia was safe.  
    From the portico, he could make out the voice of the hierophant–his musical intonation was starting to crack with hysteria. “Shadows!” he shouted. “I see black trees, black hands, and fire beneath the mountain!” His voice dropped below hearing. Primus hesitated no more than a moment before he pressed his ear to the door.  
    He heard Somnia’s voice, too low to understand. Soothing tones.
    The hierophant shouted her down. “No! I have seen their deaths–I see them now! You think he doesn’t know? He feeds these fools to the old gods like shoveling fuel into an oven. He’ll feed us all to devils!”
    Another voice, pleading. Primus thought it might be the acolyte who had met him at the door. Then the hierophant: “NO! I won’t let him use me anymore. I’m going to free us. DO NOT TOUCH ME!”
    There was a crash, and Primus heard Somnia cry out in pain.  
    He pushed against the door, but they had latched it from within. He put his shoulder into it, but the wood only groaned. Inside, both the hierophant and the acolyte were shouting. Somnia was silent. Primus took two steps back, and flew at the door, slamming his heel into the carved ash panel. There was a crunch, and the door groaned inward a few inches. Primus backed up and put his heel into it again, careless of the noise. The latch splintered beneath his boot, and the temple doors flew inward.
    Smoke billowed out of the temple the moment the doors were open. Primus coughed, waving a hand before his face as he edged inside. He recognized the hierophant, his back to the door as he stood over the brazier at Jupiter’s feet. Beneath one skinny arm he clutched a leather case the size of a marching drum; as Primus watched, the hierophant yanked a scroll from the case and held it above the brazier, waiting as it began to smolder. His hands were steady as he waited for the flame to take. Even as he rushed in, Primus remembered how the priest’s hands had trembled while he took