Chapter Eighteen
HELIA HAD BEEN right; drinking last night had helped in the moment.
However, the severe throbbing in my head this morning is a sharp counterpoint.
I suppose the trick would be to never stop drinking, though my stomach roils at the thought.
At least I haven’t thrown up again. Helia had us break camp at first light, as the journey to Hecalon would take the better part of a month.
For the most part, the path east would be along well traveled roads.
According to Bellius, there were a few mountain passes we could choose from to cross from western Thetan into the eastern regions.
A mountain range extends down from the northern heights, wrapping around past Nolphi.
This makes travel between the regions funnel through three main passes or by ship.
It will take us two weeks to reach the mountains, possibly another week to cross depending on the route, and then a final week to reach the capital.
Despite the early start, we move slow; I’m not the only one nursing a headache. Past midday, I recovered enough to take in my surroundings as we saunter along the packed dirt road.
Tall grass rustles in the breeze on either side of the road, rising slightly as rolling hills fade into the distance.
Trees dot the grasslands, a mixture of pines stretching to reach the sky where birds had dropped seeds.
However, it is the wildflowers that draw my eye.
Among the rolling waves of grass peeks cerulean and lilac, dancing in time with the breeze, weaving a hypnotic spell.
“Don't watch too closely or sprites will lure you in!” Bellius snaps me into focus, his smile warming the scar along his face. I smile in askance. “What? Don't you country folk believe in sprites?”
“Some do. Most just believe in and worship the gods of the upper pantheon.”
Bellius sagely nods, seemingly pleased the backwoods revered the pantheons.
“As any proper Thetan should! But, if you believe in the upper pantheon, you likely believe in the lower as well. And if you believe in that”—Bellius gestures at the rolling hills as we continue along the road—“how can you deny the possibility of more?” After experiencing Lunos’s powers first hand, it's hard to disagree.
“I did not take you for such a devout believer Bellius.”
His laugh draws the ire of a few folks nearby, some of whom clearly have not worked off their hangovers.
“I was raised as a follower of Stratas and after traveling across the land, it’s hard to deny there isn’t something out there.
I’m sure you agree.” He gives me a look that sharpens his point; of course he had not forgotten the forest.
“Why Stratas, Bellius? If you don’t mind me asking,” I hurriedly add. He strokes his cropped beard as we walk, still studying the waves of color. He nods, as if reaching the end of some internal conversation.
“I was born in Hecalon into a family of elites. My father was a politician and my mother a commander of the city guard. They both worshiped Stratas devoutly; never missed an offering. I was raised to do the same, destined to follow in either of their footsteps.” He strokes his scar idly, eyes unfocused and thousands of miles away.
“I found myself skilled at warfare more than the symposium floor. So much so, that I got arrogant and stopped worshiping Stratas, believing it was my own power that had gotten me to where I was.” Bellius’s voice fades, specters of his past dancing among the grass.
Despite the gray in his beard and hair, Bellius never looked old to me; until now.
“Well, I’m sure you can guess it did not end well for me.
I ended up fleeing the city, and swore an oath to Stratas repenting for my arrogance.
A month later, I ran into Helia and the band.
Hard to deny it, eh?” I don't say anything, but my mind turns on his words.
Fate? Divinity? Self-actualization? Hard to say, but as Bellius gets lost in the hypnotic pull of the past, a thought sparks an ember in my mind. Does it actually matter which it is?
“Don't let Bellius turn you into a follower of Stratas!” Olena jokingly joins our conversation, ever watchful. She throws an arm around me and continues to needle Bellius. “I swear, the way he goes on about Stratas sometimes you'd think he was an Aspect.”
“Olena! Don't blaspheme!” Bellius makes a gesture, warding against evil all while Olena chuckles at his discomfort. “I mocked the pantheons once. Do so at your own peril.”
Olena’s laugh becomes a scoff. “I don’t think any god or goddess of the pantheons, upper or lower, care about what an orphan from the streets of Hecalon does or says.”
Olena’s words itch my mind. I had forgotten that there were two pantheons.
The upper are the strongest, the oldest, and the fewest. They are the primordial divines; the ones without whom life wouldn’t exist. Or so our stories tell us.
Unsurprisingly, Lunos numbers among them; alongside Solon.
The lower pantheon is numerous, containing all aspects of life, Keppilo numbering among them.
But that’s not what draws my attention to Olena’s words.
“I didn’t know you were an orphan.”
Olena shrugs, arm still wrapped around me. For as protective of me as she’s become, I don’t know much of her story.
“Eh, it’s not a big deal. I was a street rat, stealing coins where I could.
Until I tried to steal from Helia one day.
That didn’t go over well, but she saw potential in me and took me under her wing.
She has a tendency to take in strays.” Olena juts her chin toward Bellius.
“And to answer your question, it’s not that I don’t believe in the pantheons.
It’s like I said; they have better things to do with their time. ”
I used to think that too, until Lunos shone her moonlight into my life.
The rest of the march passes with Olena and Bellius bickering about the worries and squabbles of higher powers. Whereas I, dreaded the sleep to come.
***
I stare out across the familiar dark lake, the stillness an old friend now. The pines beyond the far shore stand distinct and inviting. The moon shines brightly, beaming down on this mindscape. Breathing deep, the smell of fresh water and sap fills my airways.
So far, I had tried focusing on my intent, screaming while stepping onto the water, and swimming out into the water with no clear intention. After many nights, the weight of my power, the weight of my mark, hangs heavy; a yoke on the shoulder of an ox. This has gone on too long.
“What do you want from me?!” My voice races across the surface of the water, ripples forming in the wake of its passing. Frustration and anger rise, a volcano ready to spew magma as impotent as I am. Lunos’s words echo once more in my mind.
What is power?
What a damned question. I can’t help but sigh all of my seething emotions out, stepping back on the sandy beach, trying to unlock my power. Or what I believe is my power.
Wait, that’s it! Lunos said I was on the right path when I said power exists in what you believe. What if it’s that simple?
Resolute, I face the lake once more and close my eyes, focusing inward. One breath in. One breath out. Listen to the sound of the water lapping at the edge of the lake. Feel the packed wet sand. If it is truly belief, I can’t second guess; it must be real to me. Make it my reality.
Eyes still closed, I take a step into the water.
Then another. It’s warm as always; not hot like the mythical springs of legends, but inviting.
In my mind’s eye, a ball of blue energy forms at my core, perfectly spherical, a well of power ready to be tapped, swirling in anticipation.
Was it always there? Just waiting at the edges of my consciousness?
Or did I will it into being; a mental construct to channel my power.
Before I get lost in my own thoughts, I step, believing that my feet can stay on top of the water. Then I take another. One more. I crack one eye open, anxious for an answer, nervous to know it.
My feet sit gently on top of the lake, a few inches above the sand.
Laughter bursts forth uncontrolled; unabated.
I did it! I run to the center of the lake, leaping and skipping, the water buoying my every step.
I spin in place, soaking in the discovery.
After some revelry, I whirl in place basking the glory of my newfound power.
The energy that had been rushing through my body reduces to a trickle, pressure building behind my eyes. The cost of true power. Closing my eyes, I release my focus, and the blue sphere of power in my mind's eye blinks into nothingness.
Immediately, water rushes up to meet me, bubbles swirling in my wake. The moonlit surface edges farther and farther into the distance above me, as I drift blissfully into full sleep.
***
A rough jostling wakes me, my dagger immediately in hand.
An iron hand grips my wrist and slams it against the ground above me, blade rendered impotent.
Blinking, I try to make out my attacker as I struggle vainly against their encompassing strength.
Nia, god of the night, still cast their blanket across the sky and the dim light from the campfire too distant to help.
The attacker’s bulk blocks the stars, their body easily dwarfing mine, one knee between my legs.
“Skion! Easy! It’s me. It’s me.” The calm in her voice relaxes every muscle I have; Helia.
A flash of teeth pierces the shadows, glad that I recognized her.
Our closeness hits like a boulder tumbling down a mountainside.
Her leg neatly placed between my thighs, dangerously close, her hand pinning me to the ground.
There’s enough darkness to hide ourselves from the others, though anyone nearby would hear everything.
Heat flushes my body, fueling the pulse that thrums through my mark.
Helia must have realized as her shrouded smile turns into a knowing smirk.
“Are you going to let me go?” I say cheekily, a large part of me wanting the exact opposite. Helia leans down, her breath along my neck, causing me to squirm.
“After seeing you like this, I don’t want to.
” Before I can do anything, her free hand cups the back of my neck and pulls me into a kiss, still pinning my hand, grip tightening slightly.
My body arches into hers, a moan muffled by her generous mouth.
Helia gently pushes her knee forward, putting just the right amount of pressure between my legs.
Urgency propels my hips into her leg, bringing a wide smile to Helia’s face as she pulls abruptly away.
“As much as I want this, it isn’t the time.
” The heat of the moment fades from her now visible green eyes as she continues.
“I woke you because you were making a lot of noise in your sleep. Are you okay?” Concern is strewn across her face, like grass along a hillside.
Our bedrolls are not close so either I was making a lot of noise or she had been on watch nearby.
“I’m okay. I had no idea I was being loud. I’ve figured out a way to control my power; at least I was able to in my dreams. I’ll need to try when I’m awake at some point.”
Helia nods, more nonplussed than I would have expected. “How do you want to do that?”
I ruffle my hair a bit, still getting used to the new length. I hadn’t cut it since I left Athos and I had never grown it out before. It feels…right. Though I wish it was long enough to put into a braid. I feel, rather than see, Helia’s eyes on me, watching me play with a lock of hair.
“I think I should try to do what I did before. Well, maybe not fully.” The idea of accidentally killing everyone nearby feels like too high of a risk. “Maybe a sparring match and if we make camp where I can find some seclusion, I can try a few things by myself.”
Helia hums, a slight bob to her shoulders.
“This is what I was hoping for. When we reach a good spot, we can have a training session to focus on using your power while awake. And fighting.” Helia stands and brushes dirt off of her armored skirt.
As she makes to leave, satisfied that I am safe, she turns with a sly smile with one hand resting on her hip.
“Try to get some more sleep before we break camp; if you can.”
I watch her confidently step away, toned calves catching the dim firelight, heat rushing back to my face.
I lay back down, the feeling of Helia pinning me seared into my bones.
Struggling to fall back asleep, a snicker weaves its way over to me, tickling my ear.
Olena lies close enough to have heard everything and the way her body shakes in mirth only stokes the heat in my face.