Page 44 of Fate

“I don’t know. I’ve not thought much past reaching Askepollo. I always wanted to open a taverna, but I’m not sure I want to do so alone.” I resist the urge to look over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of my personal goddess. I wonder if that would make Helia laugh or cringe.

“So, you knew we were heading to Askepollo then?” Shit. I spoke without thinking. My mouth work to form and excuse only to stop short at Olena’s raised hand. “Relax. You have tremendous power; you wouldn’t waste your time here with us for no reason. Also, she’d consider it, I think.” Olena rolls her eyes at the whiplash on my face. “Not wanting to open the taverna on your own? Oh come on, it was obvious. Seriously though, I think she’d consider it and not just due to your budding relationship. You haven’t seen her on the battlefield, not really.”

I suppose that’s true. We’ve been through a couple attacks, but we’ve never been in an extended battle. I’m not even sure I’d last that long without my power. I furrow my brow in thought as we follow the path.

“What does that have to do with whether or not Helia would leave with me?”

“It has everything to do with it. Well, I might be the only one to think so. There was a battle a year or so before you joined. It was some political skirmish that ended with a battle between hired soldiers, because why risk your own people when you could pay someone instead?” Venom drips from her words, anger sizzling at the powerful using the lives of others for their gain. “Anyway. The enemy hired more mercenaries than our side, so we were outnumbered. And yet, the commander simply drew her blade and charged in, no shield even. No fancy tactics, just a lone charge into the enemy ranks. We followed quickly behind her, but we got stuck at the front line whereas she pierced through. Her blade drank deeply that day as she flowed between enemies. A deadly, inhuman dance alone, untouchable by any mortal. I still remember the sickly crimson sheen splattered across her armor and sword at the end of the battle. She stood surrounded by scores of the dead and that was the moment that most of the Spears began to follow her without question.”

Olena is lost in the memory, her grip tightening on the haft of her spear. I look back, catching a glimpse of Helia chatting with Lyras in the middle of the band. I’ve seen the iron in her, but nothing like that.

“That still doesn’t—.”

Olena shakes her head, cutting me off. “I’m getting there. She stood there, among the dead, among the slaughtered, blood dripping from her. I approached her first, everyone either recovering from the fight or too in awe of our commander. The look in her eyes…she was empty, Itho. No post-battle fatigue or adrenaline. Just a pure void of sadness. So, when I tell you that I think she would consider leaving, that is why. She may be the strongest commander and fighter I have ever seen, but I don’t believe she wants to be; if she ever did.”

Watching Helia, I can’t help but see the truth of it. Her path was created to be that perfect warrior, sculpted by Lunos for a singular purpose. Who wouldn’t chafe at their bindings? Who wouldn’t stare into the abyss? I chew the inside of my lip as I think on Olena’s story, on her own truth revealed. I need to trust in my friend.

“Olena, I need your help. No—the commander and I need your help.” Olena perks up, unsure what to expect. I breathe deep, the pines filling my senses. Slowly, I explain my plan to save Helia.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

THE PINES EVENTUALLY give way to more desolate land after a week or so of travel. We’ve reached the halfway point according to Helia. It’s hard to process the distinct split in the land. The path had turned from paved to gravel and now to simple packed dirt. Bellius had explained that the northern routes were not well-traveled due to the desolation from ancient times. I knew what to expect, and yet seeing it was something entirely different.

The path cuts alongside the edge of a cliff, with the wildlands to the east; the lands we have to cross. To the west is familiar fertile forest. Pine branches sway in the slight breeze, birds chirp, and small critters rustle in the underbrush. The wildlands are utterly dead. Tufts of brown grass pock the hillside and petrified husks of trees lay scattered across the land as though strewn by unnatural forces. Nothing moves. No rustling breeze, no signs of animals across the flatter plains. Pure desolation.

“Spears! Prepare for descent.” Helia thunders her voice along the small column. Descent? I crane my neck until I can see what she means; a small gap in the sheer drop of the cliffside only wide enough to travel two by two. Impossible to see if you weren’t looking for it. Lunos must have left it in Helia’s memory.

Olena partners up with me as we begin the perilous journey down to the wildlands. Each step is carefully planned, progress slow. Yet, all it takes is a short-lived glance over the edge and no one tries to go faster. Once we hit the halfway mark, the air becomes stale as if there is no wind to stir it. If this is what it’s like halfway up the cliff, I dread what awaits us.

Dusk sets in once we reached the bottom, thankfully. For the air is thick at the bottom; humid and heavy with unease. Full sun down here is going to be miserable. Helia gives us a moment of rest before leading us a short distance along the edge of the rock wall to a natural curve in the formation. A defensible place to set camp; effectively surrounded by rock on three sides and with clear vision of any enemy attack.

Bellius and Andra hand out assignments for the night. Second watch for me; I thoroughly enjoy broken sleep. No fires tonight to boot, so only travel cakes for dinner. I already miss the divine meals in Hecalon, the gentle simplicity of comforting food. The taste of olives follows me as I drift quickly to sleep, eager to get as much as I can before my shift.

***

“Itho. Wake up.” Ugh. Andra’s voice is not the first thing I want to hear when I wake. Guess we’re on duty together. Blinking the few hours of sleep from my eyes, I make ready for watch grabbing my spear. I slept in my armor; we all did. It’s fairly standard when traveling, but this place has made everyone uneasy.

Olena and the others on first watch pass Andra and I as we make our way toward the front of the camp with two others joining us. I haven’t learned their names. Despite the cohort being around thirty or so, I’ve found a hard time of getting to know people. Then again, it’s hard to do that when you don’t even know yourself. I nod at the man on the left. He nods back, features difficult to make out in the limited moonlight. Perhaps I should take time to socialize more, now that I have embraced Itho.

I open my mouth to give a real greeting, but before air can leave my lungs I watch as an arrow pierces the throat of the man. Another whistles past my face making a sickening thud next to me. Andra lets out a strangled cry, a beast wounded. I spare a quick glance, immediately regretting it. She’s doubled over with a hand over her face, the shaft of an arrow sticking out between her fingers.

That’s the only pause I get before more arrows fly in the night. Several bounce harmlessly off my armor, a testament to the craftsmanship. Olena slams a shield down in front of us both, deflecting the remainder of the volley. The first watch turned quickly and now we have enough shields at the fore.

A war cry goes out in the darkness and the rattle of blades being drawn gives warning to the impending charge. We reform our ranks slightly, not being able to fully cover the exposed edge with six people. Only Olena and two others have shields so they take the front with myself and the other two a few paces back. Reigning in the rising adrenaline, I quickly focus my power into my throat.

“SPEARS! TO ARMS!” My magically boosted voice booms along the sheer rock wall. Now we just need to hold out for a few minutes. I let go of my power, receiving a dull throb at my temples and a burning in my throat as a reward. A surge of attackers rush out from the blackness and charge at our shabby shield wall. I try to count them, but a pair peel around Olena and charge directly at me while several others stream past. I have to hope I warned everyone in time.

My palms sweat, making my grip slick on my spear as I deflect the blades streaking toward me. They glint in the low moonlight, beams of deadly silver with lethal intent. One cuts high and the other stabs at my thigh, narrowly missing with a sidestep and flick of my spear. I twirl my spearhead back and forth, trying to keep them both at bay. Screams erupt from the camp, but whose death knell it is, I am unsure. I have to finish this quickly. Bellius’s training comes to me unbidden. “Remember, spears have reach, but the true strength is in the flow. Connect your strikes, shift your reach, use the entire spear and not just the tip. Never let your enemy control the flow and keep them guessing; be a whirlwind.”

I brace my hips with my left leg out in front and spearhead leveled at my enemies, as though I’m going to thrust at the attacker on the right. Grunting with effort, I launch off my back leg before rolling my hips, pivoting my thrust to the left. The razor-sharp tip pierces the throat of the one on the left, their unsuspecting eyes bulging as a wet gurgle erupts from their mouth. I spare no thought for the gruesome scene; I can’t.

Carrying forward the momentum of my hips, I snap the butt of my spear into the side of the knee of the other attacker. A sickening crack rewards the move, just as a spear lances past my back, sinking into the enemy’s chest.

Olena roughly kicks the dying body off her weapon before swinging back around, shield raised and spear readied on top; a spiky bulwark full of menace. Blood is splattered across her face, none of it her own. Unfiltered ferocity burns in her eyes as she looks at me, a brief worry cuts through my mind that she won’t recognize friend from foe. Another scream rises above the din of battle, drawing my attention back toward camp. Toward Helia.

“Focus! The commander will be fine. Stop them here!” Without waiting, she launches past me with a yell, engaging another dark figure rushing out from the dark. Fear casts a dreaded shadow across my mind; who do I try to save? My bonded sister? My blossoming love? Indecision is decision. Another enemy breaks past the meager defenses and slices their way toward me.

We exchange blows, turning aside strikes, dodging at the last moment. This one is skilled. My spear is a blur in my hands, body falling deep into the flow as Bellius calls it, and yet every thrust is brushed aside, as easy as a hand waving away a pesky gnat. The world melts away leaving only the two of us engaged in a deadly dance. A smile blooms on their face, eyes still hidden by hood and darkness.