Chapter Four
THE SOUND OF the fighting moves to the edge of my awareness as I drown in the sea of green staring down at me.
The warrior woman stands there for what seems like an eternity, eyes flicking across my body, stopping for a split second on my throat, before nodding and sheathing her blade.
Her forearm extends in greeting, hints of scars dancing along muscles in the firelight.
“Helia.” Her voice is a deep honey seeping into my ears as my arm moves on its own accord, brain struggling to focus. I grasp her forearm and marvel at the firmness, her grip protective and devastating.
“Skion.” I return her nod with one of my own, proud at my lack of trembling. “Thank you for saving me.” I glance around at the remaining villagers, the burning town, the death of my life. “Thank you for saving what you could.”
Helia loosens her grip and I immediately feel the chill of the night replace it. She sighs, raking a hand through tousled hair. “I am sorry we weren’t here faster. We've been hunting these dogs for a week across the countryside; all the way from Ionos.”
My brows shoot up. Ionos is a port town that has been growing in reputation over the past few years as an access point to trade routes in northern Thetan.
It is easily two weeks away across rough countryside, one of several reasons there’s no established route between Athos and Ionos.
Well, two weeks for a normal person to travel.
I make to launch into a slew of questions, but a warrior from Helia's band trots up. They do a quick salute, tapping a fist to their chest. Helia turns, acknowledging the salute.
“Commander!” A hearty tenor barks from a shadowed face. “The remaining enemies have retreated into the valley; we have counted eleven dead.”
Helia nods again, assessing the situation while the fighter continues their report. No dead on their side; just bruises and a few shallow wounds. The village toll, however, is grim.
Half of the villagers are dead or dying and the majority of the farm terrace is destroyed.
The fire in the housing and business terraces had been on the outer edges to drive the villagers toward the center.
Some of the survivors started a water brigade from the well on the business terrace, but the majority are too possessed by grief and disbelief to make a difference.
A small trickle of villagers stream into the terrace from the housing and farm sections, gently guided by a portion of the bronze-clad warriors.
I run a hand through my hair. What in the pantheons are we going to do?
We won’t have enough food to survive the coming winter.
Not to mention we don’t exactly have a large populace.
Losing so many is devastating. A dark thought whispers in the back of my mind before I can shove it away.
Perhaps this is the opportunity I’ve always wanted; freedom from the past and a chance to carve out what I want. Who I want to be.
The warrior hands a small metal disc to Helia, her brow furrowing intensely as her fingers run across the face of it. She approaches me, carefully tucking what I now see as a coin into a pouch at her belt.
“I know this is difficult and disorienting but”—Helia lays a calloused hand on my shoulder and draws a breath before continuing—“your people cannot stay here anymore.”
“I know.” I gesture up the hillside where the light from the fires on the farm terrace paint a ghoulish picture in the night.
“That harvest was meant to replenish our stores and carry the town through the coming winter. Even with less mouths to feed, we won’t have enough.
Besides, there’s not enough people left to keep the rest of the village running.
” Helia blinks and cocks her head to the side with a gleam in her eyes that I can’t quite place.
Before either of us can say more, Porto and the Speaker join us.
The Speaker bows to Helia while a sneer covers Porto’s visage.
“Pantheons bless you stranger. And you, Skion.” The Speaker struggles to smile through a bruised and battered face.
“You saved my life and those of the survivors.” They choke on their final words, reality sinking in.
I nod as Porto scoffs and mutters something under his breath about letting the farm burn.
The Speaker continues as though they didn’t hear.
“Stranger, as I am sure you have already realized, we cannot stay in Athos.”
Helia nods and squeezes my shoulder gently. “Skion and I have been discussing that same thing. Despite his bravery, you do not have enough to stay here.”
Porto’s anger bubbles over like a pot of boiling water and points a shaking finger in my direction.
I tense, though whether at Helia’s compliment or Porto’s menace, I’m not sure.
“Brave?! Bullshit! If Skion hadn’t run out on me, we might have been able to save some of the harvest.” Porto advances toward me.
Every step quivers with the loss of his dreams, not the death knell of the village.
“You worthless, sad excuse of a man! I should never have—” Helia’s fist slams into the side of Porto’s face, a sickening crack forcing him to the ground.
The Speaker’s eyes widen, but makes no move to help. Neither do I.
“I did not see you charge in, risking your life, attempting to save anyone. Stay down in the dirt where you belong, worm.” Helia moves back to me and addresses the Speaker.
“Skion has arranged for our services to escort your people to Ionos.” I blink and look up at Helia, a strange smile on her face.
The Speaker looks over to me and raises an eyebrow. I shrug, unsure what Helia means.
“And what is the cost of your services, if I may ask?” Helia steps over the moaning Porto to the body of the warrior I killed, the sword jutting from his side where I lacked the strength to pull it out.
She bends over and pries the weapon free.
Wiping the blade clean on the pleats of her armor, she presents it to me hilt first. Dumbfounded, I grab it, our hands briefly touching in the exchange.
With the smile still on her lips, Helia answers the Speaker’s question, her gaze locked with mine.
“Skion has exchanged his services for ours. He is joining the Band of Spears.”