Page 22 of Fate

“Today, we get to fill our bellies with fresh food and good wine!” Cheers raise up around us; resupply is a good day for mercenaries. “Our lives and good fortune are owed to our newest recruit, Skion! Helia gestures to me, redness annoyingly coming back to my face, before continuing. “Honor him tonight!” A war cry erupts in celebration as ice cold water splashes across my face as Helia speaks of me as a man.

“Spears! We have been on the road now for a while. Celebrate hard tonight; for tomorrow we march to Hecalon!” Murmurs of surprise followed by cheers. She had been right; no one expected that.

Helia turns to me and for a brief moment, I see a shadow of hunger creep back into her eyes. Smiling, she turns and mingles with the cohort, doing her job as commander.

Olena leads several companions come up to me, raining hearty slaps on my back, wine skins thrust toward me. I embrace it all, and smile.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

HELIA HAD BEEN right; drinking last night had helped in the moment. However, the severe throbbing in my head this morning is a sharp counterpoint. I suppose the trick would be to never stop drinking, though my stomach roils at the thought. At least I haven’t thrown up again. Helia had us break camp at first light, as the journey to Hecalon would take the better part of a month. For the most part, the path east would be along well traveled roads. According to Bellius, there were a few mountain passes we could choose from to cross from western Thetan into the eastern regions.

A mountain range extends down from the northern heights, wrapping around past Nolphi. This makes travel between the regions funnel through three main passes or by ship. It will take us two weeks to reach the mountains, possibly another week to cross depending on the route, and then a final week to reach the capital.

Despite the early start, we move slow; I’m not the only one nursing a headache. Past midday, I recovered enough to take in my surroundings as we saunter along the packed dirt road.

Tall grass rustles in the breeze on either side of the road, rising slightly as rolling hills fade into the distance. Trees dot the grasslands, a mixture of pines stretching to reach the sky where birds had dropped seeds. However, it is the wildflowers that draw my eye. Among the rolling waves of grass peeks cerulean and lilac, dancing in time with the breeze, weaving a hypnotic spell.

“Don't watch too closely or sprites will lure you in!” Bellius snaps me into focus, his smile warming the scar along his face. I smile in askance. “What? Don't you country folk believe in sprites?”

“Some do. Most just believe in and worship the gods of the upper pantheon.”

Bellius sagely nods, seemingly pleased the backwoods revered the pantheons.

“As any proper Thetan should! But, if you believe in the upper pantheon, you likely believe in the lower as well. And if you believe in that”—Bellius gestures at the rolling hills as we continue along the road—“how can you deny the possibility of more?” After experiencing Lunos’s powers first hand, it's hard to disagree.

“I did not take you for such a devout believer Bellius.”

His laugh draws the ire of a few folks nearby, some of whom clearly have not worked off their hangovers. “I was raised as a follower of Stratas and after traveling across the land, it’s hard to deny there isn’t something out there. I’m sure you agree.” He gives me a look that sharpens his point; of course he had not forgotten the forest.

“Why Stratas, Bellius? If you don’t mind me asking,” I hurriedly add. He strokes his cropped beard as we walk, still studying the waves of color. He nods, as if reaching the end of some internal conversation.

“I was born in Hecalon into a family of elites. My father was a politician and my mother a commander of the city guard. They both worshiped Stratas devoutly; never missed an offering. I was raised to do the same, destined to follow in either of their footsteps.” He strokes his scar idly, eyes unfocused and thousands of miles away. “I found myself skilled at warfare more than the symposium floor. So much so, that I got arrogant and stopped worshiping Stratas, believing it was my own power that had gotten me to where I was.” Bellius’s voice fades, specters of his past dancing among the grass. Despite the gray in his beard and hair, Bellius never looked old to me; until now.

“Well, I’m sure you can guess it did not end well for me. I ended up fleeing the city, and swore an oath to Stratas repenting for my arrogance. A month later, I ran into Helia and the band. Hard to deny it, eh?” I don't say anything, but my mind turns on his words. Fate? Divinity? Self-actualization? Hard to say, but as Bellius gets lost in the hypnotic pull of the past, a thought sparks an ember in my mind. Does it actually matter which it is?

“Don't let Bellius turn you into a follower of Stratas!” Olena jokingly joins our conversation, ever watchful. She throws an arm around me and continues to needle Bellius. “I swear, the way he goes on about Stratas sometimes you'd think he was an Aspect.”

“Olena! Don't blaspheme!” Bellius makes a gesture, warding against evil all while Olena chuckles at his discomfort. “I mocked the pantheons once. Do so at your own peril.”

Olena’s laugh becomes a scoff. “I don’t think any god or goddess of the pantheons, upper or lower, care about what an orphan from the streets of Hecalon does or says.”

Olena’s words itch my mind. I had forgotten that there were two pantheons. The upper are the strongest, the oldest, and the fewest. They are the primordial divines; the ones without whom life wouldn’t exist. Or so our stories tell us. Unsurprisingly, Lunos numbers among them; alongside Solon. The lower pantheon is numerous, containing all aspects of life, Keppilo numbering among them. But that’s not what draws my attention to Olena’s words.

“I didn’t know you were an orphan.”

Olena shrugs, arm still wrapped around me. For as protective of me as she’s become, I don’t know much of her story.

“Eh, it’s not a big deal. I was a street rat, stealing coins where I could. Until I tried to steal from Helia one day. That didn’t go over well, but she saw potential in me and took me under her wing. She has a tendency to take in strays.” Olena juts her chin toward Bellius. “And to answer your question, it’s not that I don’t believe in the pantheons. It’s like I said; they have better things to do with their time.”

I used to think that too, until Lunos shone her moonlight into my life.

The rest of the march passes with Olena and Bellius bickering about the worries and squabbles of higher powers. Whereas I, dreaded the sleep to come.

***

I stare out across the familiar dark lake, the stillness an old friend now. The pines beyond the far shore stand distinct and inviting. The moon shines brightly, beaming down on this mindscape. Breathing deep, the smell of fresh water and sap fills my airways.

So far, I had tried focusing on my intent, screaming while stepping onto the water, and swimming out into the water with no clear intention. After many nights, the weight of my power, the weight of my mark, hangs heavy; a yoke on the shoulder of an ox. This has gone on too long.