Page 28 of Fate

“Guess you did end up getting her a gift,” Olena teases, smile broad across her face. I throw a lazy punch at her, causing us both to laugh, my own smile matching hers. Joy still rippling our shoulders on the walk back, the stores along way close up and merchants and laborers head home or elsewhere. Night falls fully as foot traffic waxes and wanes; even in this giant city, people are people.

“Thank you Olena, for today. I never would have found the smith without you.”

She nods in acceptance and turns us down an alleyway between some buildings, likely onto some shortcut to get back before it became too dark to see. The alleyway is narrow with a few twists and turns, often just wide enough for the two of us to walk side by side. Up ahead, the exit beckons, a welcome respite compared to the encroaching walls.

The patter of sudden footsteps behind us spins me around just in time to watch the blur of a shadow crash into Olena and the muffled gasp of pain as she slams to the ground. The figure nimbly catapults forward, rushing past with a stolen coin purse in hand. A maroon stain spreads quickly along Olena’s tunic, as her hand grasps numbly at the hilt of the dagger embedded in her side.

“I’m fine. Get after them!” Olena props herself up, urging me on. I dash out of the alleyway, uncertainty hounding my steps. Leaving Olena behind is risky, but that’s three months of her pay and she will kill me if I lose it. Glancing along the street, the cloaked figure disappears down another side passage. Only one way for me to catch up. Focus, breathe, believe.

Time and air thicken around me, the tightening sensation of the world slowing down snakes across my skin. Sprinting, keeping my eyes wide open, I rapidly close the distance, hand outstretched to grab the mugger by their cloak. They spin to face me, their words and motions sluggish at first as though vibrating through tar, before speeding up and reaching normal speed, completely untouched by my magic. A smile, deadly and dripping with malice glints in the darkness, their main features shrouded by a hood.

“We finally found you, Conduit of Lunos.” Icy tendrils of fear creep down my spine, concentration shattering along with my magic. The attacker pulls their hood back revealing the face of a man. Short, tousled hair gives him a boyish look.

He lunges forward drawing a curved knife from under his cloak, slashing wildly at me. No, not wildly. Andra’s lessons come to mind; he’s trying to back me into a wall. I circle off to the side, keeping myself centered in the alleyway, dodging strikes that cut the night air. Without my spear or blade, it’s all I can do to ward him off with my bare hands. Blood flows from nicks along my hands and forearms, his blade finding fleeting purchases. This won’t end well; he’s not giving me any time to reconnect with my power.

“What’s wrong, Conduit? Can’t get it up?” Mockery and derision drip from his words, blade clipping my cheek as I sway underneath barely saving my neck. Pain flashes in its wake, a crimson line burning along my face.

Clenching my teeth and I summon power in the time between breaths, anger feeding my strength. This time, I flood energy into my muscles, thickening them with deadly intent. Pain splits my skull, an unsubtle warning of my limits and the cost of true power.

I continue my sway away the arc of his swing, spinning impossibly fast. Shifting weight with the spin, my fist slams into his side with a dull thunderclap. The cracking of bones echoes in the alley as my punch hits with enough force to launch the man into the wall. Steam releases from shredded muscles as my power flees. Pain writhes through my body, the price I have to pay, forcing me to my knees. Through weary eyes, I gaze at the cracked wall, dust settling from impact. The man stands there, upright and grinning manically, slightly favoring his side but otherwise unscathed.

“That fucking hurt.” He spits to the side, a small glob of blood hitting the dirt. Each step he takes toward me should be impossible. Yet the gleam of his wicked knife in the moonlight tells an unforgiving story. “You didn’t think you were the only one blessed by the gods, did you?” He threads a hand through my loose hair, jerking my head back painfully, exposing my neck for a clean kill. His tongue wets cracked lips, that cursed smile never leaving his face. “With your death, Lunos is—”

Whatever he was going to say turns into a wet and garbled scream. The edge of a sword careens through his neck, severing it. As both his body and mine tumble toward the ground, I see who saved my live.

My goddess in human form. My Helia.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

THE SOFT WARBLE of birds flutters through the air, peaceful and full of promise. A stark contrast to the immediate awareness of pain throughout my body. Textured cloth wraps along my arms and something is attached to my cheek.

Against my will, I force open my eyes. Stone ceilings stretch out above me and clouds of furs wrap me in their embrace. Pushing myself up, a weight on my chest holds me down. Black hair spills out from a messy bun, hints of a snore with each breath. Helia rests her head on my chest, bronze armor on and spear propped gently against the wall at her side.

Thank the pantheons that smiling doesn’t hurt. Even with all our flirting, snuck kisses, and time on the road, I’ve never had the chance to just take her in. The scars across her bare arms telling a hundred stories, the seeming roughness of her hands despite how soft they feel, the promise of a swift death or utter safety deep in those muscled arms. A flutter, a twitch, and her fields of pure green blearily stare up at me.

“Couldn’t wait to take me back into your bed, huh?”

A soft chuckle vibrates in her chest, sending pleasant sensations through me, her unhindered and sleepy smile thrilling me, pushing a measure of pain away. Helia sits up on her chair and stretches deeply. If only I had a knack for sculpting; she’s a perfect subject for one of the statues dotting the city. Squinting in pain, my head begins to throb as I try to sit up. A cup gets placed gently into my hand. Soothing cool water floods my body, refreshing and rejuvenating.

“What happened Helia? Last I remember, I saw you in that alleyway.”

“I was going to ask you that Skion. Not much happened after I found you. That man died before I could question him. I was able to bring you and Olena back—”

“Olena! Is she okay?!”

Helia sports a kind smile, taking the now empty cup from my hand and replacing it with a small plate of food, urging me to eat. A fluffy flatbread sits next to pureed beans, a drizzle of olive oil resting on top. An abominable gurgle of hunger erupts from my stomach. The first bite is like stumbling upon an oasis in the desert.

“Yes, she’s okay. We were able to get her back and stitched up. She’s quite upset about everything; after we finish, you should visit her. But before that, tell me what happened before I showed up.”

Around mouthfuls of delight, I explain the events of the attack, including what happened with my powers and how easily he ignored them. The peacefulness in the room shrinks bit by bit, storm clouds forming on Helia’s face. I finish both the plate and my story as a few thoughts come to mind.

“Do you know what he was? My powers didn’t work and I launched him into a stone wall.”

She blows a breath, the air whistling out of her mouth. “I don’t know for sure. He could have been an Aspect or blessed by a god.” What? Helia reads my mind and continues, “Gods can provide blessings on their followers, each differing in condition and effect. And every Aspect is unique, even from others of their god.”

Let’s get this right. Not only is some unknown god trying to kill me by hiring mercenaries, but now Aspects and blessings, whatever they are, are all in the mix? I’m going to die.

“Aspect or otherwise, he’ll be wandering the afterlife without a head.” The simple brutality makes me stare at her, uncertain if I should be frightened or flattered. I place a hand on her knee and squeeze.