53. CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
The shadows were everywhere.
Thick, dark, consuming.
And then fire.
Bright orange and gold flames danced before Alena’s eyes, stretching up towards a vast starry sky.
“Happy birthday, little star.” Katell’s face remained in the shadows, the fire reflecting in her dark gaze.
Alena smiled back. Had her birthday passed by without her noticing? Back at camp, she would have dressed up for the occasion. Yet, now, the idea of celebrating another year paled in comparison to the joy of being reunited with her sister.
“I would never leave you, remember?” Katell went on. “Even if the Moon separates us, I promise I will look for you. Always.”
A wave of relief spread through Alena. Her sister would never swear loyalty to the Empire. The Blood Wolf had lied. Katell was her sister, and they’d be there for each other—always.
Yet, when Alena approached, reaching out her hand, desperate for a touch, the flames faded, and the darkness returned.
“Kat?”
A shaft of moonlight cut through the canopy of trees, and the air grew cold.
A branch snapped. Alena spun around, her pulse quickening.
Growls echoed in the surrounding forest. A grey wolf prowled into the moonlight, hackles raised, teeth stained with blood.
With a soft gasp, she backed away and bumped into a hard body.
“We meet again, little rebel.”
Her muscles froze.
The Blood Wolf’s bleeding face glared down at her. He gripped her neck, squeezing harder and harder. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t move. Her heart threatened to burst through her chest at any moment. Somehow, he’d found her again, and they were all going to die.
A figure approached from the treeline. A woman with a long, dark braid and green eyes.
“Kat! Kat, help me!”
But her sister did no such thing. She stood beside the Blood Wolf, her eyes full of violence.
And then the moon shifted, flooding her in a cold, eerie light and revealing her Rasennan armour and sword drenched in blood.
“It’s too late, little star.”
Katell placed a black helmet over her head, her eyes transforming into two soulless voids of darkness, and Alena screamed.
She woke up with a start, drenched in a cold sweat.
“No! No!”
She kicked off the furs covering her. Smells of blood, sweat, herbs, and food assaulted her nose, and above her, she spotted crisscrossing wooden beams beneath a thatched roof.
“Alena!” Someone leaned closer, but she recoiled, dreams of the Blood Wolf still lingering in her mind.
“Alena, it’s Leukos.” The deep voice drilled into her skull.
And then she heard everything else. The scraping of leather, the hammering of steel, and dozens of voices chatting, crying, shouting, and laughing around her.
“Stop! Make it stop!” She covered her ears, burying her head under the furs and wishing the world would vanish. The blankets were damp and reeked of mould, but anything was better than the racket piercing her mind.
A gentle hand grasped her shoulder and pulled the furs away. “Here, drink this. It will help, trust me.”
Leukos brought a cup to her lips, and she drank it, ignoring the pungent taste. Anything to bring her relief.
“Look at me.” He lowered his voice, framing her face with warm hands. “Look at me and breathe. Focus only on my voice, nothing else. Deep breaths, in and out.”
Following his guidance, she breathed in, staring into familiar obsidian eyes. Callused thumbs caressed her cheeks, and the gentle touch soothed the frayed edges of her nerves.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the voices and sounds faded into the background. She released a shuddering breath, her heart settling down.
Leukos swept away the auburn strands of hair stuck to her face and tucked them behind her ears. His face was a tired mess, his skin paler than usual beneath his unruly hair. His guard was down, his emotions laid bare upon his features—a fleeting moment of vulnerability that Alena cherished more than any spoken words.
Angry, red scratch marks ran across his cheek, and memories of the Blood Wolf and their fight flooded her mind.
Fear crept in. “Leukos?”
He drew back, and she took in his appearance, from the unusual colourful tunic he wore to the bandages wrapped around his torso and arms. Scrapes and puncture wounds peppered his throat, where the wolves’ sharp teeth had held him down.
“By the Moon…” She brushed her fingertips along his bruised neck, tears flooding her eyes. They could have ripped out his throat, yet he had fought.
He had fought for her.
His expression softened. “It seems worse than it is. I’m alive, Alena. Thanks to you.”
Chin trembling, she pressed her head against his chest, seeking the comfort of his beating heart to convince herself of his words.
Stars be praised, he was alive.
Leukos wrapped his arms around her in a reassuring hold.
“I thought he’d killed you,” he whispered into her hair. “But you saved us. You saved us all.”
Nestled against him, Alena inhaled his clean scent, soaking up his warmth before she had to face reality again.
“Where are the others?” she finally asked, pulling away.
“Nikander left this morning to check on San and Kaixo.” He hesitated. “We had to leave them behind in a mountain cave the Westerners use as a hideout.”
Alena’s eyes went wide.
“They’re safe,” he went on. “I promise you they’re safe, and Nik has visited them every day since we arrived. They would have drawn too much attention here and until we know the tribe’s intentions, they’re safer in hiding.”
Although she didn’t like leaving San and Kaixo by themselves, she nodded, trusting his decision.
“Where are we?”
Sunlight filtered through the thatched roof, casting a golden hue across the compact space. Furniture was sparse, but by her cot was a wide stool covered in herbs, a mortar and pestle, and a collection of flasks.
“We’re at the Green Mountains Tribe’s hillfort. After you saved us from the Blood Wolf, you passed out, and I was too heavily injured, so Nikander…” Leukos trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose with his finger while sighing. “He left to find help and brought back Western scouts, who brought us to the hillfort. Nik could have left us and run. He could have killed me, but instead… he helped us.”
Alena opened her mouth and closed it again, remembering the awful part Nik had played in the massacre as a child. After years of hatred, Leukos was struggling to see him in a different light, and she couldn’t fault him for it. The massacre had scarred him deep in his heart. Damocles had always said invisible wounds were the hardest to heal. Alena had seen it in the cave. She’d witnessed the nightmares that affected him, even years later.
Whether he admitted it or not, his past had shaped a young Leukos into the forbidding warrior Alena had first met; a man presenting a front of cold indifference to the world to better hide the staggering pain beneath it all.
Now Nik was in his life again, the same man responsible for all that pain, and instead of adding to it and living to his traitor nickname, he’d saved them. Despite his past mistakes, in Alena’s eyes, that had to count for something.
“It doesn’t make up for what he did,” Leukos said in a hoarse voice. “I know he was only twelve during the siege, a child, but… I don’t think I can ever forgive him.”
Alena squeezed his hand. “And you don’t have to. But he’s here now, and he’s helping. You have to accept that.”
A long silence ensued before he gave a curt nod. “You’re right. And if we’re to face the legions soon, I’ll have to learn to work with him, either way.”
Alena shifted to the edge of the cot and hissed. Her muscles ached as if she’d been fighting for days.
“What happened?” She clutched her head in her hands, struggling to piece everything together. “The Blood Wolf found us. He had us all in his grasp. How are we still alive?”
“You don’t remember?”
She closed her eyes, images flashing in her mind. “I touched his Mark. I don’t know what came over me, but I knew I had to touch it. When I did, I saw what happened in his past. How he found the Amazons and tortured the priestess for the Huntress’ true name. How he forced the goddess’ hand and sealed the pact.”
Her words must have sounded strange, but when she glanced up, his undivided attention was fixed on her, waiting for her to continue.
“Then the world shifted, and I wasn’t in the forest anymore. I was on a mountain… There was a tree and a cave and—”
“What are you—?”
“I saw the Huntress!” Her memories all came rushing back to her. “She was there, Leukos, and she was so beautiful. She said I’d released her from the Blood Wolf’s pact, and she… she gave me his Gifts.”
His dark eyebrows shot up. “The Huntress? Without a sacrifice?”
“Yes, I… released her from a cave, and she Gifted me.”
Her words sounded impossible and ridiculous, but he didn’t question them.
“The Sea God visited my father in his dreams, and it was difficult for him to explain it to me as well,” he said. “I thought you’d somehow taken the Blood Wolf’s Gifts for yourself, but if the Huntress gave them willingly, then the bond should be stronger. And so will your magic.” He studied her face, peering closer. “That would explain your eyes and your sharp senses.”
“My eyes?” She blinked, her hand reaching to touch her eyelids on instinct.
“They’re glowing as the Blood Wolf’s did.” Leukos’ attention shifted to her hand, and his fingers traced the gold Mark etched on her skin. “But this isn’t the silver Mark of the Huntress, Alena. By the Achaean Twelve, Elishat was right. It’s not just a myth; this is the Omega symbol. You are the Omega.”
They both stared at the gleaming symbol. Upon closer inspection, the ends of the Koine letter seemed curled rather than straight.
“The Huntress said it belonged to the Mother Goddess,” Alena said. “I’ve never heard of her, have you?”
“No. To be honest, I know very little about the Omega.” Leukos rubbed the back of his neck, a wince flashing across his face. “I’d always considered the rumours to be some old stories. Elishat and Theo would know more.”
“You said the Omega would eradicate evil.” A knot formed in her stomach, and she dug her fingers into the fur blankets beneath her. “Leukos, I’m not… I can’t be…”
His hand cupped her head, his fingers threading through her hair, and he guided her face back to meet his. Heat flared up her neck at their close proximity.
“It’s all right, just breathe. We’ll figure it out. Together.” His voice held no hesitation. “But first, your body was flooded with magic and needs rest. The potion will help you keep control until your Gifts settle.”
He rearranged the furs spread out over the wooden bed frame, then helped her lie back down. A warm feeling settled in her gut as he fussed over her.
“Did you make the potion?” For some reason, she couldn’t picture him cutting up herbs or using a mortar and pestle.
“It’s a simple recipe that my mother used to prepare for me.” He lowered to his haunches beside her, his voice quiet. He’d never mentioned his mother before. “If the magic of your new Gifts becomes too much, drink some more, and it’ll help.”
He inclined his head to the cup on the stool, and she nodded, stifling a yawn. “You had trouble as a child?”
He gave her a wry smile. “Every Gifted does. I used to freeze and break any object placed in my hands. Nik couldn’t control his speed and, more than once, ran into the palace walls, breaking his nose.”
“That’s terrible.”
He chuckled, the sound bringing a smile to her lips.
“Rest for now, and in the morning, you can meet our hosts.”
She closed her eyes, and he didn’t move from his spot, the warmth of his body a reassuring presence until she succumbed to sleep once more.
Alena slept through the rest of the day and night.
By morning, her Gifts lay dormant and under control, thanks to the potion. With extra effort and concentration, she was able to call upon her heightened senses but decided against testing any magic connecting her to the wolves. The hillfort was home to hundreds of Westerners, and a pack of wolves prowling through the streets would cause unnecessary panic.
Brennus, the hillfort’s chief, had invited them to join his family for a meal. While Leukos left to meet a Gifted healer to check his injuries, Alena spent her free time washing up outside with a barrel of water and soap. She missed San and Kaixo terribly. Nik had left before she’d woken up to check on them and then scout the area for the Rasennans Legions. She still hadn’t seen the other Megarian since the attack.
Once clean, she slipped back inside the hut and chose an amber-coloured linen dress from the clothes Leukos had brought her. As she tied her dagger to the leather belt around her waist, her thoughts wandered back to her nightmare. Had it been a simple dream, or had it meant something? The image of Katell donned in Rasennan armour stayed with her, yet Alena still refused to believe the Blood Wolf. Her sister would never leave her.
She then combed through her hair, braided half of it up, and let the rest of her curls fall about her shoulders. She was eighteen now, and as a woman still without a husband or family of her own, she hoped the Western chief and his family would find her appearance and manners respectable enough.
When she finished lacing a pair of leather sandals around her calves, Leukos entered the hut. She greeted him with a smile, which he returned, his gaze lingering on her dress. He looked better. The scratches and bruises on his face and neck were gone, and the tension in his shoulders had softened. He was dressed in Western clothes again: long dark trousers and a bluish-grey tunic that emphasised his muscled frame. His Megarian sword hung from his hip.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Almost.” He disappeared towards the back of the hut where he and Nik had been staying and came back clutching a bundle of felt, which he handed to her. When Alena peered inside the cloth, gold and bronze gleamed at her.
“My mother’s necklace!” She turned it over in her hands. “How?”
“Nik said he recovered it before we left the clearing. I kept it with me until now and thought you might want to show it to Brennus. He might be able to give you some answers.”
“You trust him?”
“He took us in without any question and hates the Empire as much as any Megarian.” He pressed his lips together. “We should stay on our guard, but he’s the best person to ask about the necklace. The Green Mountain Tribe mines gold from their lands and trades it around the Great Sea. They’ll know where it came from.”
His gaze shifted to the gold symbol etched on her hand. “It might be best to keep your Mark a secret for now.”
Alena could barely glance at it herself without her insides twisting with unease. She grabbed a spare bandage from the stool and wrapped it around her hand. “I’ll hide it for now.”
They left the hut, stepping into the small courtyard where Alena had washed, huddled between the stacked piles of chopped wood and the water barrel.
The world outside was full of life and much bigger than she’d imagined; it was a city. Tall wooden buildings with thatched roofs lined a central paved road, which branched off into smaller paths heading to various districts of the hillfort. The buildings had been planned in an orderly fashion, and the roads were inlaid with flat stones.
The further they went, the more Westerners milled about, flitting among the market stalls and shops, their arms laden with weaved baskets filled with food. Tradesmen shouted down the streets in a language Alena didn’t recognise, brandishing their goods for all to see. Pillars of smoke curled up in the distance, accompanied by the distant ringing of hammers.
Whereas Achaean and Rasennan women wore long flowing chiton dresses held by pins, Western women wore stitched tunics and long skirts held up with felt or leather belts. The men wore short, belted tunics over knee-length breeches, similar to Freefolk ones, except for their choice of bold colours and patterns.
Leukos and her blended right in with their clothes.
“Careful.” He tugged her away from a puddle of mud. “Try not to stare too much.”
She leaned in closer. “Have you noticed? Some of them have red hair—almost orange.”
“They dye it.”
Passing through a wooden gate flanked with oblong shields, they entered a private courtyard filled with red hens, geese, and a couple of dogs who came to greet them. The sounds of the hillfort faded into the background as they ventured further towards a set of thatched buildings, which included a house, stables, and a grange.
A man’s voice called out to them, coming from a stretch of grass beneath the shade of two sprawling oak trees. A wooden table had been set there, and it had four occupants—three men and a curvy woman with frizzy blonde hair and a kind face sat at a wooden table.
They all stood up to welcome them. Despite their friendly expressions, Alena was aware of the swords and daggers hanging at their hips.
An elderly man with a shock of chestnut hair greying at the sides and an old scar running across his collarbone blinked at her for several moments. His shrewd blue eyes then flickered to Leukos. He had to be the chief.
The two greeted each other, Leukos answering back in the Western tongue, and Alena stared at him.
The blonde woman approached her next with a warm smile and handed her a sealed flask.
Leukos nodded. “Go ahead, drink it. The potion is laced with magic and will help you understand their tongue.”
It suddenly made sense how he was able to speak so many languages if a potion for each of them existed.
Alena broke the wax seal and stared at its contents. The liquid inside was as clear as water and held no particular smell.
Leukos seemed to notice her hesitation. “Language potions are prepared by Western priests, or druids, as they call them, for politics and trade among the tribes since they each speak their own tongue. Similar potions are brewed for trade around the Great Sea, although they’re usually very expensive. The Sea God’s priests prepared them for King Pandion and his Silver Shields.”
Alena nodded and swallowed the clear liquid. Its texture was heavy on her tongue and carried a faint chestnut note.
The Westerners sat again, and Alena followed suit, sticking close to Leukos.
“How quickly will the potion take effect?” she asked.
The woman grinned. “It’s already working.” She filled up their cups with a frothy, light-coloured drink from a jug. Leukos thanked her and passed one to Alena. The strong scent of alcohol mixed with herbs wafted in the air.
“To Volcos!” the older man called out, and Alena mirrored Leukos by holding her cup up in the air and then taking a sip.
The sparkling beverage was much stronger than Freefolk mead. It burned her nose and throat, and she sputtered, covering her mouth. Leukos fared better, his mouth twisting into a slight grimace before he schooled his features again.
The chief’s gaze fixed on Alena once more. She had no doubt the unnatural shimmer of her gaze intrigued him. She’d spent a long time by the water barrel studying the ethereal glow that now emanated from her vibrant green eyes.
“Please, go ahead and eat.” The woman uncovered platters of cheese, dried meats and bread set on the table. “You must be famished.”
Alena’s mouth watered at the smell of warm baked bread. The three Western men dived right in, tearing apart the loaves of bread and sticking their knives into the meat and cheese.
Leukos picked up a loaf and gave half of it to Alena, along with some soft goat’s cheese—her favourite.
“I’m Brennus, chief of the Green Mountains Tribe,” the older man said between bites. “And this is my eldest, Lug.” He nodded to the broad man on his right, with shoulder-length, honey-coloured hair, and kind eyes. “My daughter-in-law, Damona.” The woman gave a welcoming smile. “And my youngest, Dax.”
The younger son was closer to her age and looked like a younger version of his father with a trimmed beard. He gave a slight nod in their direction, a bored expression on his face.
“Our other guest, Alcaros, is here too somewhere,” Brennus grumbled, pouring himself another drink. “He’s one of Volcos’ generals and has been nothing but a pain since he arrived. He’s no doubt reorganising my men at the gates and making changes to my orders, but gods be damned, this is our city!”
“Father.” Lug, the eldest son, shook his head at him.
Taking another gulp from his cup, Brennus settled down and turned to Leukos. “So, Megarian, you’ve had time to think things over since we first spoke. Are you going to help us fight against the Rasennan dogs?”
“As Nikander mentioned, and I reiterated upon waking up, we came here to warn you of a potential Rasennan attack. Our suspicions were confirmed when we received word the legions crossed the treaty borders. We need to warn the other tribes and have them gather their armies or the Western Lands will be overrun.”
Brennus threw his head back and barked a loud laugh. “You came all this way to tell us about the Empire’s invasion, boy? Volcos foresaw Tarquinius’ plans months ago, and we’ve been preparing ever since. No, The Emperor won’t invade. Not yet. The legions are too scattered about the Empire, and the autumn winds are already upon us. The legions you scouted came to take our hillfort, no doubt. And then, come next summer, the Emperor will send the rest of them to launch a full attack on our lands.”
Leukos mulled over his words. “You’re sure of this? Our scouts have seen two legions amassing at the mountain borders. More could be on their way.”
“No enemy army can cross our river gods, and the mountain passes will start gathering snow by the next full moon. If the Emperor wanted to invade the Western Lands, his legions would already be here. Trust me, this time they’re coming for our hillfort.”
Lug sent his father a sharp look as if he were uncomfortable with the amount of information his father was divulging.
“Oh, don’t stare at me like that, my boy.” Brennus slammed his cup down on the table. “I rode into battle with Andrasta, and Volcos trusts me with the information I share. Besides, this boy is from Megara and would never betray us. His king was Andrasta’s greatest ally and paid a terrible price for it.”
Leukos stiffened at the mention of the massacre.
“Your father is right,” he said after a moment, glancing between Lug and Brennus. “The alliance between the Rebel Queen and King Pandion was never officially broken, and together we’re stronger against our enemies. I promise to help in whatever way I can to defend the hillfort and, come next summer, I’ll return with an Achaean army and help you defend your lands.”
Leukos stood, cup in hand, eyes fixed on the Western chief. His voice rang loud and clear. “Brennus, chief of the Green Mountains Tribe, upon my honour and the Achaean Twelve, you have my word.”
The two sons’ eyebrows rose in unison. Alena surmised that such an oath between the Westerners and the Achaeans hadn’t been uttered since the Rebel Queen.
With greater difficulty, Brennus staggered to his feet. He leaned across the table and held his cup against Leukos’, then tugged the collar of his tunic, exposing the jagged scar that ran across his collarbone.
“Sixteen years ago, a Rasennan Legate ran his sword through my shoulder at the Battle of Kendrisia. I lost sight of our queen then and have blamed myself every day for her capture and ultimate demise.”
“Father…” Lug glanced up, his eyebrows drawn together.
The chief shook his head, smiling at his sons. “I thank the gods every day that I was fortunate enough to return to my lands and my family and continue leading our tribe despite the defeat. We always knew the Rasennans would be back, and I believe with all my heart that Volcos will be the one to defeat them. And when he does, I’ll be proud to stand with the Megarians once more and with the Rebel Queen’s daughter.”
His gaze shifted to Alena, a knowing gleam in his eye. “By the White Mare, my girl. You’re the spitting image of your mother.”