Chapter 30 Caelus #2
The lilting song of a nightingale was all that pierced the otherwise soundless forest. Even the footsteps of the mortal king were silent.
Lykos, now I’m speaking to you.
A wolfish sigh entered my mind followed by the feeling — nay, the knowledge — that my bonded animal was rolling his large yellow eyes.
I was ignoring you as requested.
Well, now I’m asking for the opposite of that.
You gods and your ever-changing minds, he grumbled. Yes, she let you in. What am I supposed to say back to that inane statement?
I don’t know, maybe some advice?
Advice?
Yes. She let me in, trusted me implicitly with her soul just as much as her body — and Furies, it was better than anything I’d ever imagined—
Perhaps this is a conversation meant for yourself, after all.
Lykos!
Godling, he snapped and the unmistakable bark of an annoyed wolf echoed through the trees, startling everyone but Aros, who’d grown accustomed to loud, snarling beasts. Rufus was raucous at the best of times.
I am a lone wolf in every sense of the phrase.
I am the last of my kind, not unlike your bonded’s dragon, and will never again know the true sense of intimacy you refer to.
He paused to collect his thoughts, anger fading into something suspiciously like regret.
You worry that she will share this part of herself with you, and then try to take it all back.
And if she does? It wouldn’t be to harm you — you said yourself she’s not capable of such a thing — it would be to protect herself. Her heart.
Sometimes love is a labour. Sometimes it is heavy to carry.
And sometimes we fear revealing so much of ourselves to someone, entrusting them to keep that part of us safe.
She shared something with you that she has not allowed herself to share with any other.
And that is an incredible honour, Caelus.
Lykos’ words stunned me into silence. He was right — of course he was right — but…
That wasn’t what I was going to ask.
An aggrieved grumble answered me. What were you going to ask, then? he sighed.
I couldn’t help the grin tugging at my lips.
When do you think we can do it again?
Godling, he sighed.
I’m just saying, I can’t wait to fu—
Caelus!
What? I just wanted to tell you I can’t function without her and cannot wait to see her again.
A deep, rolling sigh was all the answer I received, much to my delight. His exasperation was a palpable thing.
I really hope I haven’t made the worst decision of my life.
After a moment, the wolf responded. The silver lining is that if you have, you’ll die if she does.
Lykos!
What? He mimicked, capturing my tone perfectly. I’m just trying to tell you that neither of you will have to live without the other, ever.
“What’s wrong?” Aros grunted from my left, startling me out of the conversation within the boundaries of my mind. “Is she alright?”
“I haven’t felt anything. I’m sure Evie has it covered.”
“She’d better. I swear—”
“Aros.” I didn’t continue until he faced me. Eventually, two strained amber eyes met mine. “They’re fine. I’d know if it were otherwise.”
After a moment, he nodded.
“I’ll tell you if things change. How much further do you think we have to go?”
Aros’ gaze narrowed on the path ahead, then he turned to me with a self-assured grin. “Not long at all.”
I looked up, quickly realising the stupidity of my question.
“Welcome to Ignios,” King Arius said, a hint of warmth shaping his tone.
He gestured behind himself to neat rows of simple, wooden buildings and a dirt road that led directly into the heart of the small village.
“Most of our families are either here or in Vireon. Mine live with me at the Bloodhold, but I was raised here, in that building right over there.” He pointed to a ramshackle dwelling on the outermost ring of cabins.
“My father died in the war against the giants, leaving my mother to raise two boys on her own. When she died of illness a year later, I was already on my way to the fortress. I didn’t receive word until months after I’d arrived, and learned that my brother had been shipped off to Kardia with the rest of the orphans. ”
My brow furrowed. “Was there no one left to raise him here?”
Arius shook his head. “We’re a hardy lot, but even we can’t take on someone else’s child. It’s why most of us only have one or two to begin with — the pain of losing them is too great, and the risk of losing them, even greater. Or they, us.
Our average lifespan is the lowest of all the kingdoms, being that we’re the ones at the forefront of all these wars. Our children are taught to wield weapons as soon as they’re big enough to hold them, and every one who makes it to fourteen goes off to train at the Bloodhold.”
My mind whirled, but Aros’ connected the dots even faster.
“How do you boast so many numbers, then, if your population is dwindling?”
Arius huffed a laugh, though there was no amusement to be found in it. “The other kingdoms are required to send conscripts every year.”
“I can’t imagine they’d do all that well, given that they’re being forced into it,” I guessed.
The mortal king levelled me with a considering look. “Depends on where they’ve come from and why.”
“What do you mean?” Diana asked. She’d remained so quiet thus far, I’d almost forgotten she was here.
Arius looked her up and down — likely seeing the similarities between her and her mother but not quite sure who exactly she was.
“Athenos sends willing soldiers. Volunteers trained less with their weapons and more with their minds.
After a few months in the ‘hold, they shape up rather well, and usually end up becoming captains and generals due to their keen intellect and prior studies within the walls of Aegis.
“Theris’ conscripts are physically strong, thanks to their backgrounds in farming, but their minds could go either way. None come with combat knowledge and it’s anyone’s guess as to how they’ll fare in battle.
“Thaldon is not required to contribute, as they supply the naval fleets in their entirety.
“Lunarians are excellent trackers and archers. They end up training us how best to deliver blows from afar.
“Caldrians are tacticians. By law, they are only required to serve a year in our forces, but we take full advantage of their wily minds while they’re here. They remain in the Bloodhold, improving our weaponry, and assessing and improving upon our battle tactics.
“Meloidians are our healers. Most remain behind the line of fire, tending to our wounded, fixing what they can. Only the bravest among them volunteer for more — becoming field healers — running from warrior to warrior injured in conflict, unable to retreat or be dragged back.
“Cytherons are the cleverest, though. Queen Idalia sends her conscripts directly from their jail cells. Anyone who breaks their laws will find themselves behind bars until such time as the next conscription date rolls around. Then, they can earn their freedom by serving under our command. They never send actual Cytherons, however, because the only ones foolish enough to break their laws are those who aren’t born there.
” He barked a sharp laugh. “We even get our own men sent back to us more often than not.”
“How does that happen?” Aros asked, astounded.
Arius laughed again. “Warriors fresh off the battlefield experiencing bloodlust, plus enough alcohol to drown an oxen, plus entire brothels of beautiful women willing to sate that desire just a short swim away?” He paused, brows raised, waiting for us to work it out.
“Doesn’t equate to clear heads and measured decisions.
Add in a dash of the goddess Aphrodite’s influence, and we’re all the more foolish a gender. ”
Aros chuckled, as did I. Even Erato and Diana cracked a smile.
“They’re big on consent over there — which is important, I’ll admit,” he tacked on quickly, noticing both the goddesses glaring at him.
“But a drunken warrior has been known to steal a kiss too many, or slap the wrong ass in passing. Both of which will get you locked up quicker than you can say ‘it was just a joke’.”
The women rolled their eyes and I was inclined to agree. To men, desire tended to slip into entitlement the moment they decided it should. Too often, their victims were expected to take it like a blessing, instead of the violation it really was.
“What about the Kardians?” Aros inquired.
“Kardians we keep safe wherever possible. Only their teenagers are able to be conscripted. Those who are not yet mothers, not pledged to work in other kingdoms, and no longer children themselves.
“Some never do anything more than menial tasks to keep the ‘hold running — and before you judge, know that they will never see the frontlines, never see bloodshed, take a life, or witness their best friend die before their eyes.” The king’s own glazed over, looking but not really seeing.
A moment later, he cleared his throat and continued, “But others excel.
Some are born with a fire that simmers their whole lives until they're given the opportunity to burn. They are fierce. Brave. Particularly the women.”
“Hestia would be so pleased to hear it.” Erato grinned.
King Arius frowned. “Tell me, demi-god — who exactly do you think blesses them to burn so brightly?”
“Huh,” was all she said in return, a crease forming between her eyes.
A small smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth, watching her mind expand to house the possibility that Hestia was so much more than she seemed.
Truthfully, it had given me pause as well.
“In any case, Ignios awaits.” Arius turned on his heel and marched along the road with the air of a man who had places to be but was in no great rush to get there.
The further into the village we walked, the more it looked like people actually lived there. Their populations must be dwindling indeed for only the central rings of homes to be occupied.