The Kin

  ***

  Knowing that Fabia was going to leave early the next morning prompted David to get out of bed much earlier than usual and be ready for his duty in the library with plenty of time to spare.

  But when he walked out into the apartment he was disappointed. Only Nadia was there and she was watching the television and openly weeping.

  “Gosh, Nadia, what’s happened?” he asked anxiously.

  The Italian matriarch turned to him. “Oh, David, you won’t understand, but she was one of God’s angels on earth and now she’s gone to heaven. She was one of our best people, we Italians called her the Mother, and she was a beacon of hope throughout the decades. Giving selflessly to charity, inspiring others to do the same. God always takes those he loves to him before their time.”

  David walked into the kitchen and held the woman in an embrace, which she managed to manipulate so that she was still able to view the television screen.

  “How old was she?” he asked.

  “Seventy-three,” she managed between the sniffs. David decided not to comment on that as Italians obviously had a different perspective on longevity than the English did.

  For a while he watched the news with her, struggling to read the subtitles which Nadia always had on for his benefit and it began to sink in that he was going to have to get his own breakfast today.

  “What’s happened?” Fabia asked appearing by the table. Nadia broke free from him to answer in frantic Italian. Fabia responded in kind, then rushed into the kitchen and embraced Nadia and they both watched the news. This was obviously a sad day for Italy with the passing of this woman, but he couldn’t help feeling that Nadia was over reacting, and now so was Fabia and it seemed especially out of character for her.

  So released from his duty, David began to make some coffee and prepare his own breakfast. He managed to manoeuvre around the stationary women and only interrupted them to inform them that he’d made coffee for them. In return he got a brilliant smile from the younger woman, which made it all worth it.

  Then he sat down and ate his breakfast. Fabia was blocking his view of the screen and he noticed that today she was wearing a long, almost floor-length dark green dress with a high neck and her hair was loose. She was completely covered up, he realised, and it was supposed to be even hotter today than it had been the last few days. That was very strange, he decided. It was as if she was hiding something and had probably brought the dress especially for that reason.

  After he’d finished eating, he put his plate into the sink and waved to Fabia. Once again she gave him a huge smile, but indicated that Nadia wouldn’t be freeing her any time soon. Disappointed, David went off to do his stint at the library.

  Once in the office, he didn’t feel like researching, so he picked up the custodians account of the Kin and decided to read it to the end.

  Dacia; Newest Province of The Roman Empire

  In The First Year of The Reign of Publius Aelius Hadrianus Augustus.

  Something sharp was digging into his side causing him a lot of pain. He tried to ignore it, but the poking was insistent. His head throbbed, his body ached and his skin was on fire, so he tried to shift away from the pain, but his limbs were weak and heavy to move. How different from last night, he thought. He’d been invincible then, a strong, powerful predator at the top of the food chain. How the mighty fall; now he was wracked with agony and unable to move, a situation which rendered him completely defenceless.

  The pain came again in his right side. This time he cried out and in response there was gasp of surprise from somewhere above him.

  With a determined effort, Junius opened his eyes, and then closed them again to shut out the brightness of the cloudy afternoon.

  “You drowned,” a voice said close by in Dacian.

  Carefully, he opened his eyes slightly in an effort to locate the person talking.

  “You’re dead,” the voice said again. This time Junius could see the speaker. It was a small bedraggled girl of about seven years old, who was holding a big stick in her hand. That would be the cause of the poking pain in his side, he decided.

  “I’m not dead,” he told her, but his throat was sore from swallowing water and it came out incoherently. She frowned. He tried again; this time it was a bit clearer.

  She shook her head. “You drowned in the flood,” she insisted and gestured around her.

  He’d been in the flood, she was right about that. He dimly remembered falling into the water and the burning sensation as his breath left his body and then nothing. He must have fallen unconscious, so in a sense she was right: he had drowned but surprisingly, he hadn’t died.

  Junius tried to shift himself onto his elbows to take stock of his surroundings, but his body was still too weak and his limbs felt like water. He hadn’t experienced such enfeeblement since Parthia, and that had been while he was convalescing after his first encounter with the Kin. After a concerted effort, he managed to hold his head up long enough to look around and he realised that the girl was right; he was actually lying a few feet away from the swollen river, which was still flowing above its banks. He’d obviously been carried downstream from the weir and then washed up as the waters subsided.

  He dropped his head back, surprised at his lucky escape. “Are you from the fort?” he asked.

  She nodded. “We’ve been sent out to get stuff. We get rewards if we find anything interesting. I’m taking you back to the fort. You’re Roman, aren’t you?”

  Junius nodded and struggled to sit up. She didn’t help, but stood and watched him. Eventually, after a few false starts he was upright. Then it struck him that he was sitting out in the daylight exposed to the sun. But that had to be impossible, because last night he’d definitely become Kin. There was no doubt about it because the horror of losing his individuality would stay with him forever. Junius looked at his hands. They were pale and showed signs of exposure to water, but they weren’t clawed or grey-white like the Kin’s would be or someone in phase two. Tentatively, he ran his tongue around his teeth, but they were normal as well.

  “What colour are my eyes?” he asked the girl.

  She shrugged. “Dunno.”

  “Are they dark like yours?”

  She shrugged again. “How would I know? I’ve never seen them.”

  Junius chewed his lip with frustration. It wasn’t her fault, she was poor and her family didn’t have money for trinkets like polished brass mirrors. “Are they green like the grass or…?” He looked around for comparison. “Dark like your dress?”

  She considered for a moment. “Sort of muddy, like the water with bits of weeds in them.” Junius couldn’t help smiling. It wasn’t a flattering description but it was graphic. “Now we need to get to the fort. I want my reward.”

  “All right, I’ll get up. It might take some time though, because I’m weak. I did nearly drown.”

  She glared at him and waited, without offering assistance, as he made several attempts to gain his feet. She tutted a few times and sighed with exasperation, then as soon he was up, she trotted off, only to stand impatiently a few metres away with her hands on her hips waiting for him to catch up. Despite being incredibly unsteady on his feet, he managed to stumble after her and they continued in that manner, despite him occasionally falling to his knees, until they came to the vicus. But not once did she help or lend a hand.

  The settlement wasn’t as badly affected as he’d anticipated, though plenty of debris lay scattered around where it had been left by the water. But there were no bloated animal corpses, he assumed, because the people had taken them inside the fort the day before. Only a few buildings had succumbed to the flames, but he could see how close the people trapped inside the fort had come to losing their lives. If the fire outside had spread and sent more sparks into the air, the dry wooden structures within the fort would almost certainly have gone up.

  His escort led him to the entrance of the Salinae fort where he was challenged by a sentry standing on
duty.

  “I found him. He’s mine. I’m claiming my reward,” the girl said.

  The guard looked at her, then turned his attention to Junius.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  Junius took the opportunity to lean against the wall before answering. “Tribune Marcus Junius Silanus of the praetorian guard.”

  The Thracian stared. “Can you prove it?”

  Junius shook his head. “No. But someone might recognise me, and you can see I’m not a threat.”

  “All right, go in,” the guard said. The girl glared and marched past him, while Junius reluctantly heaved himself upright and followed her inside the fort.

  The ground was still sodden and several bundles of stakes and spears lay scattered around. Other than that, there was very little evidence of the events of last night.

  A portable table had been set up not far from the gate and Junius recognized the young tribune who sat behind it chatting to a few residents.

  The girl was making straight for it, so this was obviously the place where she would collect her reward.

  She stopped in front of the table causing the people, including young Celer, to end their conversation and stare at her. She said something and pointed back at Junius.

  Despite his grim appearance and the torn clothes, Celer recognized him at once and called his name as he rushed over to him.

  “We thought you were dead.”

  Junius smiled grimly in reply. “I thought I was as well, but there’s still time.” At that same instant, he felt his legs try to give away beneath him, but somehow, by sheer force of will, he managed to stay upright, until he felt Celer grab him and heard several shouts for a medic. Finally, he yielded to the exhaustion which had been calling for his surrender since he’d first clambered to his feet.

  Junius woke later to find himself in a hard but clean bed. Warily, he braced himself for pain from his aching limbs when he shifted his body, but even though he was expecting it, the shock of it caused him to inhale sharply.

  “Sir, would you like something to eat?” The voice came from the end of the bed, but though he strained to see, he couldn’t move his body enough to be able to view his companion.

  “Where am I?” he asked, aware that he wasn’t in the infirmary.

  “Tribune Celer ordered you to be put in the prefect’s room. You are the highest ranking commander here, after all, sir.”

  By now the speaker had come around to stand next to the bed and Junius was able to see him for the first time. He was a young legionary, with a full fresh face. “I’ve some broth for you here and some wine.”

  The idea of food didn’t appeal to Junius in the slightest, but then he realised that he hadn’t eaten anything for several days, and quite honestly he wasn’t sure if he could still process food any more.

  When the young man saw his uncertainty, he frowned then moved away from the bed. Junius could hear clacking noises, and then the man was back holding a plate with a spoon. Junius tried to move away, but the soldier sat down and lifted the spoon to his face.

  “You should eat, your body’s been through a lot and it’ll need the strength.”

  Junius wasn’t sure his body needed the food at all, but curling his lip with distaste, he opened his mouth and allowed the young man to spoon the warm broth in.

  The food was a shock. It was delicious and immediately he wanted more. He hadn’t expected that; his body seemed to come alive and he felt his stomach rumble and his mouth water in anticipation of the next mouthful. Eagerly he gulped it down, then shook his head. The young man was about to argue.

  “Give it to me. I’m not an invalid. I can feed myself.” The soldier considered for a moment then conceded, handing the bowl and spoon over. Junius immediately began to feed himself, but tried hard to retain his dignity, though it was hard as he was so hungry. Whilst he ate, the young man poured a cup of watered wine.

  Junius stopped himself from licking the bowl, but he was still famished, he needed and wanted more. He couldn’t understand what was happening to him and why now, after all this time did he want to eat, when his body had never expressed any need for it in the last few days and nights? When he was stronger he’d try to make sense of the changes that had taken place inside him. But the hub of his unease was the simple fact that he should be dead after falling into the water. There was no way he could have survived that, yet against all the odds he had, somehow.

  “Would you like more?”

  Junius nodded. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. It seems you were right, my body does need it after all.”

  The young man took the bowl from him and left the room. Junius tentatively and very carefully reached over for the cup of wine. He managed to grasp it and brought it over and took a sip. It was like nectar of the Gods. In a few short moments he’d downed it, then made himself shift in the bed despite the pain, so he could pour some more. The soldier soon came back with another bowl of broth, which he finished just as quickly, then satisfied but completely bemused at what was happening to him, Junius lay back and almost immediately fell asleep again.