The Mountains Bleed

“I’ll die for you” Whispered the older man to his son, “You know that...don’t you?”

Stone dust fell in a cascade from the ceiling, intermittent waves of it, never running dry. Every time a loud thud reverberated through the building above, it shed endless debris into the cold cellar.

“I know, father. I do. But now is hardly the time for such talk. We’ll get home safely, then figure out what to do about all this. I know it’s a long way and I’m asking much…but she's waiting. I fear...we will need to push on soon. Not much choice in it.”

Isaac turned back to his vigil through a tiny window that rested at ground level. He shifted his feet on the old crate that gave him a vantage through the murky glass, darting his eyes back and forth, looking for any sign the carnage was slowing.

“I’m not being dramatic, nor making empty pledges of love, boy. I mean it in the most practical sense. Once we go back out there…if it comes to it…I’ll make sure it’s you that moves forward. I’m getting old anyway. Its your strength that will carry our family from here.”

Isaac eyed his father, sat forward on his own crate in the corner of the dark storeroom, spinning his gladius broadsword on its point. Calm despite the chaos. As always. Another violent shake of the ground knocked over some stored bottles and shed a layer of grit from the walls. The older man's greying stubble was coated in it, his once shining breast plate dulled by dirty ash. Smoke and dust seemed to be attached to everything. The effect on his father made him seem even more stoic than usual. As if it were transforming him into an actual statue.

“You are old, that’s true,” Isaac smiled, “But far from done yet. I’ve still plenty to learn from this cities finest soldier.”

“You took that title long ago. I just haven’t the humility to admit it.”

Isaac turned back to the window with a roll of his eyes. His father's grim talk was not helping anything. He sighed and twisted his hands against the pommel of his own sword. There weren’t many people exposed on the street anymore, most had fled under cover, just as they had when it began. Strange, lightweight stones were still falling from the blackening sky and were not slowing. Barraging the rooftops of houses all around, they were starting to litter the streets in a mess of rock and ash. He didn’t know who owned the home they sheltered in, only that it had been along their patrol route and had a cellar. It had kept them safe, for now. Isaac bit the inside of his cheek. They had already stayed too long. The sky was growing ever darker, a column of black cloud slowly obscuring the sun and the air felt heavier with rising heat.

“We need to move. It’s only getting worse and I fear we are running out of time. Claudia will be unable to flee the city without our help and staying here is no longer an option.” He said, making the decision and hopping down from his perch. He adjusted the broadsword at his waist and strode toward the stone stairway that led up to the road. His father was on his heels without a single question, solid and quick on his feet, despite always complaining about his age.

Isaac threaded through the streets, holding his shield above his head and feeling the intermittent strike of stone vibrate through his forearm. It didn’t hurt. The stones covering the paved ground were porous, like a petrified loofah for bathing. He imagined they held no real danger. Though, mixed into the sea of harmless stones were jagged, heavier looking obsidian. Those, he knew would kill him should they fall where he stood. He had seen it happen when the attack began. People and property run through as if by a great arrow. The bodies likely still lay in the street. Even his curved shield would do little to save him from something so powerful. Yet, it was worth trusting to the gods and taking the risk. Staying still felt too much like a slow death sentence, and he could not bear the gnawing fear that was growing in his chest. It was better to be moving, to feel like he had some control over what was to come next. By his gamble, they ran for what felt like an age across the city landscape, kicking their way through rubble and weaving down emptied streets. Eventually, he led his father on light feet across a square, dodging the fountain at its centre and slipping down an alley between buildings. Once under the safety of an arched verandah, attached to a larger home, he lowered his shield and stopped.

“Not much further.” He said between laboured breaths. Carrying his armour while running across half the city was beginning to wear him down. He looked up to see his father tossing his helmet away and releasing the straps of his worn breastplate, having apparently had the same thought.

“You should drop the metal, son. It’s slowing us down, and from what I can see, won’t be much use anyway.” He said, as the last of his armour clattered to the ground, leaving him in nothing but a crimson tunic, cinched at the waist by a thin belt.

Isaac stared at him, his mouth open and unsure what to say. He worked his jaw until the words came.

“Father?! You fought all your life for the mark of a Legatus! How can you abandon your hard-won armour for something as fleeting as an easier journey?”

He almost fumbled his shield as his father grabbed his arm in an iron grip and jolted him toward the edge of the verandah.

“That’s how.” He said plainly, pointing up into the darkening sky.

Isaac gazed up, his eyes growing wide at the renewed sight. A maelstrom of black cloud, growing taller than the mountain itself, spewed from Vesuvius’ mouth. Stone, ash and smoke still peppered the city from the heavens. The clattering and smashing against buildings creating an orchestra of percussion, to match the rumbles that assaulted the earth beneath his sandaled feet. Both Isaac and his father recoiled in unison when an arc of red lightening shot through the column of darkness, adding its echo of thunder to the din.

“Son,” his father said, still holding his arm, “listen to me now. Do you think I am a leader of men because of the armour I wear, or the badge on my chest? Should my armour walk one way and I the other, do you think that the legion would follow the metal or the man?”

“The men would follow you anywhere. As would I. You could walk in rags and it would not matter.”

“Then drop your dead weight. It means nothing without the soul that carries it. Metal can be reforged. You cannot be.”

Isaac moved more quickly with only his sword and shield to bear. The growing heat was matching the dimming of the day, and so he was glad to be free of the extra layers. A small relief. He glanced up as rarely as he could control, a tightness grasping his throat whenever he glimpsed the power growing in the sky. As the pair moved into the poorer areas of the city, activity grew. Those without the riches enjoyed by the ruling classes had never had the luxury of inactivity. They moved with greater purpose to flee from the threat, not hindered by the idea of rescue. Growing crowds rushed past, yelling and bleeding when struck by the falling stones. Carts laden with sentimental possessions were getting stuck in the debris and a rising panic could be felt amongst those in the streets.

“What enemy brings this upon us?” Isaac lamented aloud.

“Rome has no enemies left for a thousand leagues,” His father shouted over the noise of escaping citizens, “In my experience, men without any external challenges in their lives, tend to invent their own.”

“What are you saying,” Isaac asked, “that we did this?”

“Maleficium holds an undercurrent in the city.”

“Magic!? Father, be serious! Inviting the occult out of idleness? Who in their right mind would want to incur the wrath of gods at this scale?”

“So many more than you can imagine…” He said, his eyes distant, “Come, Claudia waits for you. Let's gather your family and be away from here.”

When he came to the last few streets, Isaac sprinted to the entrance of his home. The small, stone cottage had its timber door barred tight. That was good, they would be safely locked inside. As he drew close and made to knock, his ears heard an alarming sound over the din of a city in uproar. It was Claudia. Screaming.

He shouldered his way through the door with one blow, so violent was his reaction. He drew his sword once past the entryway, only to be be hastily shoved backwards. The maid servant, Amelia he recalled her name being, planted two hands directly into his chest and before he knew it, he was back outside.

“Your son comes. It is too late to move her.” She said, before turning and slamming the door closed to him once more.

“Oh…no…” He breathed, placing a palm against the thick wood.

Isaac looked to his father, who looked even more bewildered at the timing. The entire afternoon had been filled with enemies that neither of them could fight. Dangers that they could not face squarely and challenges that they could do nothing but try to avoid. Childbirth, as wonderful as the news felt, was yet another complication they could do nothing about, but instead must weather. Isaac rubbed both hands into his eyes and sank down under the porch roof, resting against the wall of his home and listening to his wife’s agony, while hell rained down around them.

“We cannot stay here.” His father muttered, sitting down beside him.

They both stared up at the mountains wrath, the anger and brutality of it expanding ever more rapidly. Isaac could sense a fury simmering beneath the earth, an explosive rage that wanted free, but had not quite found its trigger. There was no fighting it, they would either depart in time to escape it, or they wouldn’t.

“I will not leave them behind.” Isaac replied.

“No...” His father said, “Let us hope we have time”

They sat that way, in silence, for what felt like eternity. Isaac wincing at every sound of pain from his beloved wife. Watching powerlessly as the world fell apart around him. Every other soul in sight fought to escape their fate, yet all Isaac and his father could do, was wait for theirs to play out.

“You know of this magic?” Isaac finally uttered, pushing his chin toward the mountain.

“Not really,” His father began, “I have unearthed a few witches for the city, put them to the sword, poked around their things. Some of them did evil I would not speak of. Things no right-minded soul would consider. So, I have an idea. I know what bored, deluded or broken people are capable of. This? This seems akin to those practices. But on a grander scale than I could ever have imagined. Either that, or it is a punishment dealt by the gods for the corruption that bleeds into every level of this place. Just about everyone with any power in the city; supernatural, economic, political, it doesn’t matter. They are all stained in filth.”

“You’ve never spoken of these things before…”

“You are young still. A fathers protection extends beyond the physical, to include corrosive knowledge. You’ll learn that lesson soon.” He laughed an empty laugh, “You did not need to know the horrors the world hides, not unless it became necessary.”

“I’d say its necessary today.” Isaac whispered.

“Agreed. Had I only known the day was coming...”

Claudia’s yells reached a crescendo and then all felt quiet for the barest moment. Isaac held his breath, only releasing it when the wailing of an infant followed. His father slapped him on the shoulder and they both smiled. Expressions of true joy, despite the situation. An endless string of minutes later, and the door opened to admit them.

Claudia was waxen and pale, sweat beading her brow. Yet still, she sat up in bed, supported by cushions, nursing the newborn.

“We have a son” She croaked.

Isaac rushed to her side, took up her hand and planted her with kisses whilst his father bustled around the house taking no notice of normal etiquette. He was busy collecting essentials and stuffing them into a satchel.

“I’m so proud of you,” He said, as calmly as he was able, “just…could you not have waited another day?”

She slapped him so weakly it felt like a feather brushing his arm. The movement attracted the child away from his mother. He laid back, staring through big eyes up at Isaac, perfectly still. It was enough that he forgot the danger, if only for a few seconds.

“We need to get you out of here, right now.” He said with renewed determination, drawing his eyes back to his wife’s. As if to support his statement, the entire house shook, and cookware smashed to the floor in the far kitchen.

“She cannot be moved” The maid servant snapped, while passing with a bundle of soiled linens, as if regular housework remained a priority. Isaac began to rise, his expression turning grim, no servant of his house would speak to him in that manner. Claudia’s gentle touch stopped him.

“She’s right…Isaac I can’t go. It's not possible for me. Not like this. I will need some time.”

“There is no time! The mountains bleed! They descend upon the city! We need to go!” Isaac yelled in protest, a solid pressure building behind his eyes and closing his throat.

“Hush. I know. I cannot, but…you should go, and take the child. I will follow when I can. Perhaps I will not even need to, and things will calm? Then you might return. We do not know anything, not for certain.” Claudia said, her voice soothing.

“I can’t leave you…” Isaac said, as the child was placed into his arms.

“You can, and you must. It is not about us anymore, Isaac. It is for him we must make our choices. I will be right behind you. Do not fear.” Claudia smiled, the water in her eyes betraying her own terror.

Isaac was pulled away by a firm hand, his father hanging a full satchel over his shoulder and trying to push him toward the door. Isaac slipped his grip and rushed back to his wife’s side, planting a long kiss on her forehead and desperately trying not to show her his tears. Then, with the greatest effort he had ever summoned, he swallowed the lump in his throat and tore himself away, making for outside.

Isaac strode away from the house, trying to balance the squirming weight of his son in his arms. It was a strange feeling, to hold something so vulnerable, wrapped in nothing but his protection. He hefted his shield over their heads and looked back, to see his father still in the doorway.

“I’ll stay with her. Make sure she gets out. Head for the docks, there will be boats” He explained.

“Father, I…” Isaac began to argue, but instead, closed his mouth and nodded.

“Already you begin to understand responsibility,” The older man grinned, pride in his eyes, “keep our new man safe. We will be with you again soon.”

Isaac turned, willing to accept the lie he saw in the set of his father's jaw. Understanding it was the only way they could each, one day, look the child in the eye, knowing they had all done the right thing.

Falling stones relentlessly hammered Isaac’s shield, ash blew like snow on the swirling winds and the ground shook, stealing his balance. Yet he sheltered his son. For hours he forged ahead, dodging increasingly desperate people and making for the coast. When he finally left the shelter of the buildings and stepped foot onto sand, the world had disappeared into darkness. He could not say whether it was night, or if it was something worse. The beaches were teeming with others, all looking for safety on the water. The timber floating docks all but sinking under the weight of all the bodies. Isaac took a deep breath and reset his shield. It sent pain down his exhausted arm like he had never known. He stepped toward the ocean anyway. Before he was halfway down the beach, he suddenly pulled the babe tight to his chest and dropped into a crouch. An almighty boom had sounded out through the sky, so loud he had felt the snap of it in his chest and the vibrations of it through the ground. The child began to cry in a high-pitched wailing that brought added pain to his ears. Isaac looked back to see fire spouting into the sky and a rolling cloud of unending pitch flowing toward the city. Even in the darkness, the deeper black of its death march was visible. Isaac’s training served him well. While all others were still gawping at the danger, he dropped his shield, drew his sword and sprinted for the closest boat. It would be his child that escaped the forsaken city. No matter the cost. He put voice to the promise that invaded his mind, as he fought his way toward the water.

“I’ll die for you” Whispered the older man to his son.