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.
“It’s been fun, Conduit of Lunos.” A hand grabs hold of my now bloodstained blue cloak and pulls, a knee slamming into my back at the same time.
Pain ignites instantly as I struggle to keep my balance.
A cruel dagger appears in my vision as if in slow motion, poised to strike and end it all.
A tiny, cowardly voice whispers deep in the back of my mind.
Would that be so bad? Why fight for a goddess who doesn’t care about you? You’ve experienced nothing but strife your entire life; let it end.
Fuck that. I have friends to protect. I have a future to create.
Power thrums through my veins, heeding my call, heeding my need. I was blinded by anger in Hecalon, blinded by the silken allure of fiery rage. Rage is a seductive poison; an unquenchable thirst. Anger boils this time, but controlled, a runaway horse finally reigned in.
“Stop.” I don’t yell. I don’t need to. Everyone freezes in place, following the command as I free myself from the clutches of the imminent strike.
Nothing fancy this time. I need to conserve my strength for the backlash to come.
I peel the fingers off of the dagger meant for my heart and claim it for my own; it will be better than my spear for this work, though I still carry it with me. I will have need of it after.
It’s easier than I thought it would be, killing now defenseless people.
A few of the frozen enemies vibrate, trying to break free of my magic; they must be blessed.
Stale air fills my lungs as I reach into my power.
With a flick of a wrist, I wrap each of the blessed enemies with silver energy, severing their connection to whichever deity wants me dead.
The vibrations stop immediately, fear now frozen in their eyes.
That doesn’t last long as my knife works quickly.
Something wet trickles across my lip as I keep a tight grip on my power.
The back of my hand comes away with bright red; so much for conserving my strength. I don’t have a lot of time.
I spare a glance for Olena and Andra. Olena is fine; exhausted based on her stance, but still only sporting the blood of her enemies.
My heart sinks as I see Andra stuck in time as she struggles to stand, desperately trying to defend herself with an arrow still lodged in one eye.
If I survive this, maybe I can heal her.
Breathing deeply of stilled air, I stalk to the main camp, soaking the ground in blood as I go.
My heart thunders when I lay eyes on her.
Despite the weight of our plight, I can’t help but to take her in.
If the sculptors of Hecalon saw her in this moment, inspiration would drive them to create a masterpiece.
Multiple bodies lay strewn around her as she defends the priests.
Mighty blade held with both hands, ready to strike down the last two attackers rushing toward her.
That’s not what steals my breath; it’s her eyes.
Those indomitable fields of green. They shine with preternatural beauty in the shallow moonlight.
I work my way closer as both of the attackers start to vibrate.
A quick severing stills them once more before two quick cuts still them forever.
Then I’m standing in front of her, the person my heart yearns for, my Helia.
Up close, I see every tight line of tense muscles and the heated determination of a deadly woman.
My mind goes blank as I lean in and up, kissing those frozen lips.
The borrowed dagger clatters to the ground.
It did its job; now is the time to prepare for the future.
Breaking the kiss and stepping back, I hold my spear out in front.
Insistent pressure creeps along my spine to the base of my skull; I need to finish this quickly.
Falling deep into my well of magical power, I let go of the spear as my intention holds it aloft.
Silver threads of power coalesce in the stilled air, weaving around my spear, my wonderful gift.
Each thread attaches to the spear, infusing it with power; infusing it with a singular goal.
Even if my body can’t pay the cost this time, I’ve done it.
At least Olena will be armed. At least Helia will be safe.
Finally, I step back and let go, catching the spear as it falls, leaning heavily against it.
I have a few seconds before the real pain will hit, and I spend them watching Helia come alive again.
I watch the battle haze lift from her, sword wavering in uncertainty, realization dawning as she sees the bloody dagger and dead enemies falling to the ground across the camp.
As she sees the blood trickling down my face, my heavy lean on the spear she gifted me.
I smile only for her, messy and bloodstained.
“I’m sorry.” Pain quakes across my skull in an intricate lattice of searing heat. Time’s up. I hear someone screaming as darkness clouds my sight. Screaming. Oh, wait; that’s my voice.