Chapter 16 Eleos
Eleos
Seth had it all figured out—how we would justify our actions if Seraphim caught us. While ensuring the safety of our companions, we’d set out to gather reconnaissance.
A lie she would see straight through.
Slipping through the congested streets, I found a noticeable gap where the crowd parted for Cerys, falling prostrate when they noticed who they stood in the presence of. A goddess, to their eyes. Percy marched at her side, hands waving as he talked without pause.
Seth’s voice spoke in my thoughts. “Do you have eyes on the target?”
“I have the bard in my sights.”
“Someone’s enjoying this,” Aethra thought. “Is Cynthus leather and Percy the only thing you two agree on?”
“Yes,” Seth answered curtly. “Three men are staring at you.”
I glimpsed Aethra across the street, leaning against a flowering tree. Her head spun around. “So?”
I interjected. “Four, actually.”
“Where?” Seth demanded. “I don’t see him.”
“It’s you, idiot.”
Aethra pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. A smile touched my lips.
Nothing made me gladder than to see small moments of joy briefly dispel her darkness.
Thus far, Seth had been a shadow even I couldn’t find in the crowd. He darted out from behind a statue and crossed the street to watch the pair from a better angle. Following him, I flipped a page of my journal, studying the map Seraphim had given me.
Cerys guarded her mind well, but Percy was an open book. Focusing on the bard, I eavesdropped on their conversation.
“So, um,” Percy’s words echoed in his thoughts. “Divine any interesting fates, recently?”
Cerys responded, but I could only feel her surface emotion. Curiosity. Percy was the first tainted she’d met from the Mainland. Someone who’d stood by the Empty of their own will.
“Really?” Percy responded, nearly running into the wall. “Oh. What do you do most days, then?”
Cerys gave a curt response, then stopped. Gratitude flowed from her. The warmth of trust.
Turning red, Percy rubbed the back of his neck. “I always told him he was emotionally constipated. And that he didn’t need to be with me.”
Leaning forward, Cerys wore a soft smile. With her facing me, I could read her lips. ‘So am I. Being noble in this land . . . it’s not always a blessing.”
“Well, that’s alright,” Percy said. “I’m a veritable laxative.”
Cerys’ eyebrows flew up. Her mouth warbled like she intended to laugh. Holding it back, she straightened.
Biting my lip, I suppressed a laugh, too. Percy’s emotions swirled around the block like a storm. ‘Oh gods, I’m an idiot.’
Perhaps later, I’d tell him what the Oracle felt.
Cerys dropped her solemn Oracle act and grabbed Percy’s arm, pulling him around the corner. Nobody saw—their eyes were pointed at the ground as they kneeled.
“El?” Aethra asked. “Are you . . . overwhelmed by the emotions here?”
“Yes,” I said. “There’s an odd feeling simmering in this place, this deep dread I don’t understand.”
Seth sounded somber. “It shouldn’t be like that here. It didn’t used to be.”
“You know what’s causing it?”
“ . . . later. We were almost having fun.”
Following the road, I peeked around the corner.
It was a dead end. The channel pooled into a small pond, where an elegant stork preened its feathers.
Kneeling, Cerys pointed at the bird, telling Percy a story.
Her emotions carried toward me as I focused on her back.
Happiness, but also sorrow. This bird must have been a fleeting joy in an otherwise unhappy life.
Percy listened with rapt attention. Feeling like I intruded on a private moment, I kept walking.
A quaint shop on the street corner caught my eye. Shimmering under the morning sunlight, a variety of necklaces dangled from the ceiling and hooks on the shop’s wall.
Aethra had gifted me a beautiful quill back in Red Bluff Outpost. I’d never returned the favor.
Glancing over my shoulder, I stepped into the shop.
The woman tending the counter looked up when I entered. Her dark skin was lined with creases, yet she didn’t look old. Perhaps she had lived a hard life, toiling for many years under the sun.
Nodding at her, I looked around. One piece caught my attention: a pale blue stone was set in a delicate teardrop of silver. Simple and perfect. Just like her.
The shop-owner spoke up. “Buying that for your lady?”
“I wouldn’t call her that,” I said, lifting the necklace from its hook.
She chuckled. “I imagine you hope to, soon.”
Smiling, I pulled out my coin purse. Something about her tone reminded me of the elders I’d trained under in Therapne, but this woman couldn’t be older than forty.
While she counted the coins I offered, I peered into her mind. The colors of her thoughts were monotone, tired, and dull. Resignation hung heavy on her shoulders. A well of memories stretched back through the ages, but she did not wish to remember them.
The song of dread whispered faintly, beneath the layers of gray.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
She looked up sharply. “I’m just fine, dear.”
“Sorry. You just seem . . . sad.”
She laughed bitterly. “When you reach your fourth cycle, you’ll understand.” Pressing a finger on one of the coins, she looked me up and down. “You look like you’re in your first.”
Cycle? What was she talking about?
“I am,” I said. Inquiring further would draw suspicion.
“May the Morai see fit to snap your first thread,” she said somberly, collecting the coins into her box.
The sound of clinking metal echoed down the road. Focusing, I stepped back and looked outside.
A pair of guards strode into the shop, dressed in silver armor adorned with purple wings. Slamming her coffer shut, the shopkeeper rose to meet them.
Tax collectors, most likely. Slipping the necklace into my bag, I ducked my head and walked past them.
I should’ve walked away, but I stopped a pace outside the shop’s door. Twisting my neck, I watched the scene behind me play out.
The heated emotions bristled in the shop with every breath. One guard was angry. The other felt deep reluctance and sympathy.
Ah. She couldn’t pay what they asked. And this was not the first time she’d been late on payment.
She wrung her hands together, resigned. Resigned to her lot in life. To the punishment she’d receive.
Someone slammed into my shoulder, throwing me to the side. Wincing as pain reverberated through my broken arm, I gasped when I recognized the young man charging into the store.
Light brown skin and hair, dressed in a ragged tunic. This was the boy from the tavern.
He pulled a dagger from his belt and lunged at the taller of the guards. The blade slipped into the gap beneath the man’s shoulder plates, spilling crimson liquid across the floor.
Yanking his dagger loose, the boy turned on his heel and ran.
Touching his chest, the guard jerked forward in surprise, not quite registering that he’d been attacked.
His fellow noticed the blood coating his toga and grabbed him before he crashed to the ground.
The shopkeeper locked eyes with me. She was not afraid. There was a tightness in her eyes—she’d seen this many times before.
Backing away, I bumped into Aethra. “Did you see that?” She hissed.
Glancing around, I searched for the boy, but he’d disappeared into the crowd.
“It was him,” Aethra whispered, grabbing my wrist. “Ainwir.”
“Ainwir?” I repeated, looking around. “Where?”
“With the boy. Telling him to strike!” She tugged me down the road. “He couldn’t have gone far.”
Seth burst from the crowd behind us and grabbed Aethra by the waist. “What are you doing?” He hissed. “They’ll think we’re the insurgents.”
Eyes widening, Aethra’s mouth fell slack. She’d just realized something.
‘Ainwir would have made the perfect insurgent,’ she thought. ‘He’s really here.’
Seth dragged Aethra to the side of the road, cursing under his breath. “Down. Now.”
Commotion erupted behind us. People ran every which way, pressing themselves against storefronts and cowering beneath awnings. Cerys and Percy hurried from their alley and dropped to their knees.
The Oracle herself pressed her forehead to the dirt. Who could possibly be approaching?
I knelt beside Aethra, keeping one eye on the road.
Ebony-clad knights marched in perfect order down the road, crimson capes flowing behind them. Vultures crowned their helms—Hades Knights.
A familiar man walked at their head, marked by his fur-lined cloak—Commander Aeacus. His scarlet lion marched at his side, dripping blood across the road.
My heart stopped when I saw the noble—the god—they escorted.
He looked just like Seth.
Tattoos of different runes and patterns painted a tapestry across his bare chest, black as the ebony cloak streaming from his shoulders.
A jackal helm rose from his brow, its eyes encrusted with scarlet jewels that matched his eyes.
Beside him walked a young woman, her strawberry blonde hair tied up in an elaborate bun, letting not a strand fall across the transparent dress she wore.
Seth growled in my mind. “Someone has a new concubine.”
“Is that . . . ?” I asked.
“Yes,” Seth hissed.
Aethra’s back trembled, and her breathing came in ragged gasps. I grabbed her hand, and Seth leaned protectively against her.
Pressing my head to the ground, I said a prayer to gods I didn’t believe in.
Lord Haimyx had arrived.