Chapter Five
I MARCH ALONGSIDE Helia the next day as the band and villagers head out on the journey to Ionos.
I adjust the blade at my side with one hand, still getting used to the feeling of it, a borrowed spear in my other.
A small pack of what little possessions I own is strapped to my back, tunic the same garb from the previous day, my few coins tucked into my belt.
Gods above, I hope I can buy something to wear that I actually want.
Helia apologized for it, but the band has no spare armor; they’re due for a resupply after this mission.
I shake my head as I keep pace and think back on the night before.
“I never said I would join your band!” I blurt in bewilderment after the Speaker leaves to tell the villagers of the plan. Helia shrugs and flashes a cunning smile.
“You didn't have to.” She gestures across the decimated town, the stricken villagers.
“You have nothing left, assuming you had anything keeping you here in the first place. Besides,” she says leading me toward where her fighters are gathered, “I know that look in your eyes; it’s the same we all have at one point.
You're searching for something that you can't find here.”
Helia’s words repeat in my mind as first day of the journey carries on, but more than that, Lunos’s words echo. Follow the spear. A band of them should work, right?
The route between Athos and Ionos is about two weeks across the rough countryside and with wounded villagers, it would take longer.
As the sun disappears behind the mountains, Helia brings the band to a halt for the night.
Most of the villagers collapse on the spot, glazed eyes staring outward, struggling to understand what the future holds.
I stand, catching my breath, watching the warriors set up a small camp in the clearing they found.
Simple bed rolls are brought out from packs and shared with the villagers.
The gratitude is palpable; the villagers brought only their most precious belongings and a few essentials.
I grab one of the bed rolls and approach the Speaker.
They sit close to the edge of the group, facing the sky, watching the color dim.
I place my hand lightly on their shoulder eliciting a jerk as the Speaker recoils, fear streaming through their body.
Wincing, I back up and hold the worn bedding out to them.
After a moment, the Speaker’s rapid breathing calms and awareness of the present returns to their eyes.
At least to their left eye; the right is swollen shut.
They accept my kindness with a nod before reaching to grab the bed roll.
Their hand stops suddenly, trembling. After an awkward moment I realize that they are staring at the mark around my neck.
I drop the roll and quickly move away from the Speaker, unsure even why.
Rushing out of the throng of villagers, I run headlong into Helia.
Blood rushes to my face as I stammer an apology, not daring to look.
“S-sorry Commander! I-I was just—” A calloused hand lifts my chin, forcing me to look at her, words turning to dust in my mouth.
Calm gazes down at me, and I lose myself in the depths of her eyes.
After a moment, as if satisfied by something she saw, Helia gives a slight nod and releases me.
With a small hand gesture, she beckons me to follow her.
Helia leads me to the edge of the clearing where trees begin to encroach into the open meadow.
Two band members stand to attention as we approach.
Their helmets are off but both still bare the bronzed armor of the Band, weapons close at hand.
Helia gestures them forward introducing the two as Bellius and Andra.
Bellius firmly taps his fist to his chest after being introduced.
Second in command of this cohort, he has a commanding presence despite being around my height.
Short, grey streaked hair adorns his head blending neatly into a close cropped military-style beard.
A jagged scar ripples a story across his cheek, white with age.
He leans against his spear, though whether out of habit or need, I’m not sure.
Andra simply nods when introduced, her eyes taking in as many details as possible, one hand on her hip and the other on the hilt of her sword.
She stands a little taller than Bellius, her hair close cropped, standing out in contrast to Helia’s raven locks.
Helia claps a hand on my shoulder once introductions are complete.
“This is Skion. He is joining the Spears and, while braver than the rest of his village, he barely knows the point of a blade from its hilt.” Helia turns away from the pair and looks down at me and, with a firm squeeze on my shoulder, wishes me luck before striding back toward the center of camp.
Bellius chuckles while Andra merely rolls her eyes.
For every night onward, I would train with either of the pair.
Bellius set about teaching me the basics of the spear and simple formations.
“Put your hips into it! Thrust with your weight; you'll have more force and knock the opponent off balance.” The first few nights of training with Bellius leave my arms feeling like rocks, but soon enough I learn to balance the spear in combination with a bronze round shield just big enough to cover most of my torso.
I find myself looking forward to training with the grizzled veteran, smiling when I earn a gruff “Well, that wasn't total shit.”
The nights with Andra, on the other hand, almost make me miss Porto.
Almost. “That's not how you hold a sword; shift your grip. Your stance is too wide. You’ll hurt yourself and those at your side swinging like that!
How did you manage to survive the attack?
! THAT'S NOT HOW YOU HOLD A SWORD!” Every night with her ends the same; bruises from the flat of her blade, gasping for breath and Andra stomping away, frustration steaming off her in the night.
Three weeks later, we finally exit the overgrown forests and enter rolling hills of knee-high fading grass.
Gentle wind ripples across the meadows, waves cresting along the hills.
Fall is in full swing now, and while the forest hadn’t shown it as much, the meadows do.
The setting sun casts a red glow, lighting the shimmering grass, a kaleidoscope of color blooming.
According to Helia, we’ll make it to Ionos in a day.
We can push through the night, but there’s no reason to push that hard.
Helia gives the orders to set up camp at the top of one of the rolling hills for a safe vantage point and we all fall into the familiar routine we have grown accustomed to over the journey.
The cohort sets about unpacking bedrolls and blankets from their packs while the villagers pitch in and start breaking out supplies for cooking, and bandages and balms for aching feet.
Helia had been surprised after the first few days when the villagers as a whole wanted to help; she was more surprised at the skills we all had with cooking and basic medicine.
Life in Athos taught everyone to take care of themselves and each other; basic skills and community were essential to survival.
According to Andra, all new recruits spend time as a cook; a great way to meet everyone.
As such, I find myself at one of the cook pots for the camp for another night.
I sip the beginnings of the stew and add some more herbs to the mix.
The dried meat is already softening, but it’s too bland for my liking.
I pour myself a bowl after my shift is done and wander to the edge of our encampment to watch the moonlight dance along the meadows. The afternoon breeze had stayed consistent, growing into a slight chill in the night air. The steam rising from the bowl warms my face as I dive in, mind elsewhere.
Ionos is close. Soon, the remainder of people I grew up with will no longer be in my life.
Gazing up at the night sky, I seek courage among the stars, or at least something to give me strength.
I always wanted to get away from Athos, to do something with my life.
To have freedom. Mercenary life is a path to explore the world and hopefully, pantheons willing, find Lunos and learn what she wants from me.
Maybe, just maybe, I can move on from being Skion.
But, there is a difference between dreaming of a thing and doing it.
Finishing the stew, I set the bowl aside and continue to watch the night sky. What-ifs and clouds of an uncertain future distract my mind, approaching footfalls escaping my awareness.
“You'll need to be more mindful when you start on night watch, Skion.” I startle at the gruff voice of Bellius.
He takes a seat next to me, resting an ever present spear on his shoulder.
His grey hair sticks out in the moon and fire light.
We sit in silence, the veteran picking up my mood.
The quiet chirping of crickets whisper in the distance.
“We'll be in Ionos tomorrow,” he says. I grunt noncommittally in response.
“It's okay to be afraid of the future. It's okay to mourn what you knew, regardless of what you felt about it. The key, is to move forward.” Eyebrow arching, I cast a sidelong look his way.
Bellius barks a laugh, his face contorting, causing his scar to ripple.
“It's pretty obvious. Besides”—he nods back toward the camp—“we're all strays in one way or another.” Bellius absently traces his scar with an index finger as he speaks.
“Some of us were forced to be strays, others chose to be; but we all have our pasts. The ones who last here, are the ones who move forward.”
“Like you, Bellius?” I ask genuinely, curious about the one who is second to Helia. A wizened smile creases his face.