Page 47 of Fate

Mix.

Knead.

Rest.

Something about the simplicity of it calms the tendrils of inky fear tickling at the frayed corners of my mind. Can I really do this? Can I defy a goddess? By the time that I’ve rolled out the flatbreads, the quartermaster returns with some help in tow, arms filled with wood.

Before long, a fire is rolling along, cook pot nice and warm. Warm enough to easily cook the flatbread, building a nice crisp char without burning. Next, half the lard goes in, a wondrous sizzle signifying the pot is ready for the next part.

Half the spices now, building flavor with the melted lard. Not too long; burnt lard is horrendous. I remember when I had tried to bake bread with Menna and burned the lard before adding it to the flour. Her laughter echoed in my ears when I tasted my creation and promptly gagged.

Menna…how long has it been now? I’ve lost track; it all seems a lifetime ago, a whisper of a forgotten past. I know she would be proud of how far I’ve come. I can hear her flirting tone in the corner of my mind, her joy of life a treasure I will always carry. The air fills with the tantalizing aroma of earthy spices, signaling it was time to add the meat.

The cured meat is already cubed since we expected trouble on this trip, making it an easy addition to the pot. I shoot a glance over where Lyras and the others are gathered, curious if the smell had reached them yet. The heads turned in my direction are all the confirmation I need. Hopefully this will make up for taking the water. Not that I trust them and their blind devotion, but I also don’t blame them for their belief. Everyone deserves to eat good food.

With the heat of the pot, the meat cooks quickly poaching in the spiced lard. With the help of the quartermaster, I spoon out the meat and leave the rendered fat in the pot. Next, pour in the lentils and carefully, ever so carefully, add more spring water to the pot before giving it a mix.

While that cooks, it’s time to make the final piece. A little surprise for my family. I stop at that thought; this little group of warriors have truly become the most real family I have ever known. Even Andra. More than Menna, leagues more than Porto, and my unknown parents.

Holding back emotions, I place the remaining lard and spices into one of the wooden bowls we eat out of. Mixing thoroughly, the two ingredients become one. The quartermaster looks on hungrily, eager to taste this latest concoction. Laughing I ask them to round everyone up; the lentils will be done by then. It takes little time for everyone to gather; just enough to finish the meal.

First the flatbread, then a layer of lentils, followed by a pad of the spiced lard. Finally, topped with the cooked meat with a bit of juice; warm enough to melt the lard as everyone eats.

I make sure our injured eat first, despite the anticipation on Helia’s face as her eyes flick between me and the alluring food. While they hopefully won’t see any fighting tonight, we always take care of our weakest first.

Everyone becomes engrossed in savoring their meal, groans of satisfaction filling the room. Even Lyras approves, all irritation over stolen water long forgotten. I nibble at my own food, basking in the joy I brought to everyone. I try to ignore the pang of loss at the thought; my dream of opening a taverna seems impossible now. Helia holds her meal, untouched, and gestures for me to join her. Perhaps I won’t get my dream, but even if I only get to enjoy this last moment with her, with these people, that is still worthwhile.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

NO ONE BATS an eye when we leave the group together and head down one of the side hallways. Perspective on rules and relationships tend to change when faced with divine power.

Helia doesn’t say anything, or even take any bites of her food. She leads me down the winding hallway, the eerie blue light casting shadows that come to life only in the corners of my vision. Despite the ethereal nature of the light, I actually get a moment to take in my surroundings.

The obsidian stone-work is sheer everywhere. Etchings across hallways arches, sigils near room doorways, and even the unadorned walls are all perfectly formed. As though they weren’t carved but, formed. Willed into existence rather than hacked at with a tool. Helia puts a stop to my random musings abruptly entering one of the rooms off the hallway.

My eyes adjust to the semi-darkness as the blue light from the hall illuminates some of the room. Two stone beds line each of the far walls, any kind of bedding and furs either stolen or have rotted away with the ages. Helia runs her free hand along the empty wall opposite of the door as if looking for something. Her other hand comically sways laden with food and trying not to spill anything.

“Two beds huh? Is this how you tell me?” Helia shoots me a did you really say that? look, spoiled by the upward quirk of her lips. I can’t help but giggle; I’m not sure either of us can imagine walking away from each other. At least, not if we survive.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’d be much more dramatic about it.” I snort at her playfulness. Neither of us has time to say anything else, as Helia’s fingers catch on something and press.

A sudden release of air floods the room as a cut out slab of the wall moves backward and slides out of the way. Immediately, blue light sparks to life beyond the threshold revealing a set of stairs leading upward. Dramatic indeed.

“Come on. I want to show you something.” At that, Helia takes the stairs and disappears out of sight. Lunos must have left the knowledge of this passage to Helia, though I’m not sure why.

By the time we reach the top, my calves feel like rocks. Despite the time with the Spears crafting my muscles, that was a climb I do not want to repeat. Ever. Yet, it is not the exertion that shortens my breath. Helia helps me up and out of the passage, onto a flat plateau bathed in starlight. The light dances across the inky stone, impossible pinpricks across a dark ocean bringing life to the lifeless. The chill in the night air is a welcome reprieve from the ascent and lends surreality to the twinkling stone.

The space is relatively small, with pillars of the hexagonal obsidian at the edges coming up irregularly around waist height. Looking out over the edge, the ruins of Askepollo spread out below, clear in the night’s light. Two narrow staircases, one on each side, lead down the outside of the rock formation and suddenly it clicks.

“An escape route?” Helia nods, before sitting on one of the edge pillars, dangling one foot off the sheer drop. She gestures with her free hand to join her, a certain melancholy in her shoulders. I sit, shifting my weight away from the terrifying drop. We both take a bite of our food, cooled now with our escapade, yet still bursting with flavor. Helia’s throaty moan of pleasure warms my heart, and my face as a flashback hits me. Hearing that same sound back in Hecalon. In her room. When she—

“I’m not just saying this because you know”—Helia gestures between us with a knowing smile—“but damn you know how to cook!” Her words bring me back to the present. Unfortunately. We finish our meals, basking in the romantic setting, even if circumstances put a damper on everything. For a moment, for this moment, we can sit here and be content.

“I hope you get to open your taverna one day. I’d love to see it, see you in it.” She must be thinking of tomorrow. Of the end she perceives. “The Quiet Lake, right?” Joy pulls the corners of my mouth up immediately, pausing any dour thought of tomorrow. She remembered! I nod, sensing there’s more Helia wants to say. “I didn’t get to ask last time, but why the name? It’s unique, and if I have learned anything about you, it’s that there is intention behind everything you do.”

“Oh. I suppose I never did explain.” My joy dims slightly before I can hide it. Helia, perceptive as ever, puts her hands up in a placating manner.

“You don’t have to! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Shaking my head, I try to temper her unease.