Chapter Thirty-Four
PINES. THE SMELL of needles on a crisp morning, one following a night of light rain. Something else too. Camp smoke. The kind you get with wet firewood. Oh, and burning food. Olena’s doing. It has to be.
The early morning rays break through pine needles as my eyes crack open. The sounds of early morning camp life tickle my ears and, is that birds? The wildlands were devoid of life; there shouldn’t be birds chirping like this. I sit up quickly, questions whirring through my mind.
“She’s awake! Commander! She’s awake!” Bellius’s voice booms behind me. His rough hand pushes gently on my shoulder, urging me to stay put. “Easy. You’ve been out for a while. Go slow.”
I nod as Bellius helps prop me up against a tree trunk.
Seems like I’m off to the side of the camp center.
Looking around, it’s clear we’re not in the wildlands anymore.
If anything, it looks similar to the forest we traveled through after leaving Hecalon.
Oh no. Did Helia bring us back to Hecalon?
! Belatedly, I realize that the sounds of chatter have stilled with Bellius’s call.
None of that matters as a tall form blocks the morning sun.
Helia stands still, as though not believing her own eyes.
I blink, and suddenly her weight is crushing me to the tree as Bellius shuffles away for the moment.
Tears wet my neck, quiet tremors shaking the once-steady shoulders of my protector.
I wrap her in my embrace, a promise of peace, a small island of relief on churning waters.
Eventually, Helia stills and pulls back slightly.
Her hands stay attached to me, as though I might disappear if she lets go.
“I thought I lost you.” I wipe away the streaks of tears along her cheek as she croaks out the words. Emotion threatens to overtake her again, eyes dancing across my face, memorizing every line she can see.
“You almost did, I think. It’s never hurt like that before.
It must have been because of the severing.
” Helia looks confused look as I notice that every member of the Spears are standing several feet behind Helia.
No, not everyone. A rock sits in my stomach when the realization hits me that I must not have saved everyone.
“Um, Helia? I think you might want to take a look behind you.” I guide her attention, causing her to stand up, uncertainty in her stance.
It’s silent until Andra steps forward slightly.
A bandage wraps around her head diagonally, forming a makeshift eye patch.
A few seconds pass with baited breath, waiting.
Andra forms a fist and gently taps it to her chest, bowing her hand in deference.
Everyone behind her follows suit. Olena throws me a wink, giving a modicum of normalcy.
I reach out for Helia’s hand, bracing myself to stand. My legs are watery, but I manage to struggle to my feet. Neither of us lets go of the other’s hand; I suppose our relationship is out there now. Though I bet it was never that much of a secret.
But that’s not all; they must know now that I am not like them.
That I have some mystical powers only known by the gods.
And yet, this is not the fear that I expected.
Hand curling into a fist, I return the salute, resolving the unspoken offer of acceptance with a promise of…
what? Protection? Loyalty? What do they expect from a being of power like me?
As they all release their salutes and filter back out to the camp, I wonder if it matters.
Andra approaches and Olena pauses behind her, still skeptical of Andra’s behavior.
“No one knows what you are, but we all know who you are. And you saved who you could. As long as any of us live, no matter what manner of being you are, you will always be a Spear.”
I nod as words fail to form in my mouth. What can I say to that? Andra thankfully turns and lumbers off, a slight tilt to her head. It will take a long time for her to adjust to one eye. Bellius shuffles after her, but not before throwing a comforting smile my way.
“That could have been worse.” Helia chuckles slightly at my attempt to lighten the mood.
With a gesture to stay put, she runs off and quickly returns with a small bowl of food.
A quick sniff confirms that Olena did indeed make this.
Despite that, my stomach rumbles desperately.
Without saying a word, I dive in, swallowing fast to avoid the acrid taste.
While I sit and eat, Helia fills me in on what happened while I was unconscious.
We suffered significant casualties. Out of the thirty or so Spears, eight were killed and three others had major injuries, Andra included.
Two of the priests were dead as well, though Lyras had luckily survived the attack.
Apparently, while I killed everyone who directly attacked the camp, we hadn’t been able to hunt down the archers.
I had been out for five days. My spoon stilled at that; that was the longest by far. Helia choked up when she explained how for the first two days, I would periodically wake only to immediately start screaming in pain again.
“Itho, what did you do? I know the backlash of your power is intense, but this seemed…different.” Helia’s right. It was different, and I think I know why.
“I severed them.” Helia waits for more as I struggle to find the right words.
“Power has to come from somewhere, right? Your power is internal from being an Aspect. Mine is internal and external. I think. But the attackers who were blessed? I’ve been thinking about it since Hecalon, but they were granted power, which means it came to them.
” I gesture helplessly to the air. I don’t have the words to explain all of this.
“I put a barrier of sorts between them and their borrowed power. I figured it might work.” My shrug puts a fine point on the end of that.
It was a guess, one that if I had been wrong would have drained me too much to fight all of them.
The chirping of a bird briefly breaks the silence, reminding me of a question.
“Helia, where are we? Please tell me we didn’t retreat.”
“Ah, no. We are near Askepollo. We will reach it today actually.” Today?! I didn’t expect that. I thought I would have more time to mentally prepare.
“But I thought it was in the wildlands. Why is there so much life here?” Lush trees, spongy grass, and teeming with life; the antithesis of what we saw at the beginning of this leg of the journey.
“I honestly don’t know. If I had to guess, I would say it’s because we are near Askepollo. It’s the center of Lunos’s power; it’s possible this is the effect of being near it. We actually started to see some of this yesterday.” We have no way of knowing, but that sounds as likely as anything else.
“While we have a moment to ourselves, I need to tell you something.” Helia fishes around in her coin purse and pulls out one of the gold Solon coins. She rubs her thumb across the sigil, deep in thought. “I think I’ve figured out which god is chasing us, hunting you. I think it’s Keppilo.”
Keppilo. The lower god of wealth and cunning.
Nia told me the lower pantheon coveted the power of the upper.
Gods have limited influence in the world, but money could drive humans to follow any divine machinations.
Pieces start fitting together in my mind as I nod along in agreement.
Every attacker over the months has had a gold coin of some sort; wealth to buy them and wealth to bless them.
Besides that, pitting two upper gods against each other sounds exactly like what the god of cunning would do.
No direct proof, but it explains a lot. For a brief moment, the golden tree in Ionos flashes in my mind.
A sign of Keppilo’s influence everywhere we’ve been.
“Glad to see you think so too. We must be careful.” Helia’s face turns to stone, her hand unconsciously reaching for her sword.
“If we are right, Keppilo will become desperate and likely has more schemes ready for us.” And no time to prepare for them.
I can’t help but sigh; this complicates everything.
***
Reaching Askepollo is unlike anything I had expected.
We stay under the cover of the dense pines taking stock of the ruins in front of us.
What once must have been a cleared and bustling conclave of Lunites is now reduced to overgrown rubble.
Trees sprout here and there among the fallen marble columns, grass grows tall where homes and hearth once stood.
Askepollo had been small; probably the size of Athos.
Yet the marble speaks to a higher quality of life, a life of status and luxury.
But the remnants of marble is not where most of us are looking.
A rock formation juts out from the ground at the far edge of the ruins, taller than a hill but not quite a mountain.
Even at this distance, I can see the sheer, geometric columns of otherworldly black stone that compose the formation; an oppressively stark contrast to nature’s reclamation of the town.
“That’s our destination. The Temple of Lunos.” Lyras points a shaking finger toward the stone, whether in fear or awe I cannot tell. Helia gives the word and the band walks out from under the trees, weapons drawn. None of the officers gave the order, but no one is taking chances.
Our trudging through the overgrowth is slow, caution in our steps through the gently swaying grasses.
But it’s the specters of homes, ghosts of tiled agoras, and revenants of tavernas, that slow our gait.
The lives of those past and what might have happened to them hang over all of our heads, regardless of the bright midday sun.