Domain of Power-The Dreamer (Book 3)

Chapter 11: Burning of Innocence

          "Boiling Point!"

My bare feet pounded the cold marble in a frantic rhythm. I faltered at the doorway where two other slaves had gathered, petrified. I pushed past them towards the source of the loud clang of falling furniture and shouting that awoke me. Inside Apollus' room my brothers' heads swept the floor at my feet as they wrestled for control over the knife. Their feet banged against the fallen lampstand. I gasped at the sight of Barbarius pinning Apollus down, one hand clamped below his neck, the other one aiming the knife at my brother's throat. The orange flame licking the sheets illuminated the burning rage in his eyes.

"Get off him!" I exclaimed. His eyes, wild and distant, flitted to mines before they locked back on Apollus. The bed was catching fire.

I pointed to the bed. "Fire!" I shouted. He turned around to witness the flames sweeping over the bed. As he turned back around, Apollus' fist collided into his nose.

Apollus pushed him off before screaming, "My bed!"

"How did this happen?" I shouted. By now another slave finally peeled Barbarius away while another fanned the flames with a burlap sack. Barbarius staggered out. His tunic was stained with blood that oozed from his nose. I stepped out into the hallway, speechless.

"Quick we need pitchers of water!" Apollus shouted at the slave who was fanning the fire. Before he could leave his station a passing female slave scampered down the corridor.

"I can go get some water too," I muttered.

"Hurry back," Apollus demanded. I scurried down the hallway into the atrium where the impluvium pool resided. The same female slave that had tended to me spotted me as I searched the ledge for a jug.

"Here is a pitcher already with water," she said handing one to me. "There is more in the kitchen I can grab."

"Thanks." I quickly scurried back to the room where the fire was being contained. Apollus grabbed the pitcher from me, as he doused the fiery flames with a cool spray of water. Flames dimmed as more slaves came pouring in with pitchers full of water pumped from our indoor plumbing. Smoke filled the room, leaving the three of us gagging. Apollus stayed behind in the room directing the slaves who were made to finish the rest of the extinguishing and to save any valuables. Just then the young female slave returned with jugs to the other slaves inside the room. Apollus staggered out the room, covering his mouth with his sleeve. He sputtered a haggard cough before leaning against the corridor wall. His body slid down the wall to the floor. His head bobbled back and forth before twisting at a limp angle.

Barbarius knelt beside him. "Apollus?"

The only answer was an unintelligible murmur.

Barbarius cupped Apollus face to steady his wobbly head. "Sorry. You were right. I admit I was jealous. I did want to be king. I wanted to scare you, but not like this. I hate how you are looking at me. I hate that we fight. I hate that I lose my composure." Barbarius gently slapped his face. "Wake up. I know you are listening," Barbarius said. He then dragged Apollus' limp body across the floor away from the billowing smoke.

Apollus opened his eyes. "What, you do not want to kill me?" Apollus asked. "Kill me! That is what you wanted." His next words took on a dreary tone. "You can take out your revenge. Just like you always wanted."

My eyes grew wide. "Why do you two always have to fight? We are brothers. Brothers look after each other. They defend one another. They die for each other. I hate to be the one who has to watch this hatred go on. What happened to this family?" I exclaimed. All Barbarius could do was shrug his shoulders before responding, "I do not know either," in a nonchalant tone.