And Helius bit her neck. She moaned in pain and tried in vain to hit him in the temple and the ears.
One of his hands broke free, but she wrapped a thin bedsheet around his neck with her right, putting one forearm against his neck, pressing with it, and pulled the sheet down towards the opposite side. Helius stuck out his tongue as she pulled and pressed harder. He gasped and his head changed colour, first turning red, his eyes bulging as if they were about to come out, then he shut his eyes and the muscles of his face relaxed. She kept pressing, and the skin of his head turned purple, then blue.
From that dream, he would not wake up.
She tumbled the body over, and stood up, staring at the object of her pain and hate, now lifeless, never to come back to that mortal realm. She stared at her hands, now covered in ash and beet juice.
She blinked.
What to do now?
And the banging on the door started again.
“Helius, are you okay? We heard screams.”
Irema put her hand over her mouth and stared at the door.
“Helius, come on, friend, we are worrying for you.”
Alana stared at the body. She had to hide it quickly. She pushed it over the edge of the bed, and it tumbled over against the wall, but the wide shoulders could still be seen.
The banging continued.
“Man, the door is open, please tell us if we can come in.”
“Wait!” Irema screamed. “I’m getting dressed.”
The body was still visible, so she took one of the sheets and put it over. It still looked like somebody was hiding under the blankets, but at least his arm was not visible.
“I’m coming,” she said, and she swallowed dry. Her heartbeat pulsated through her body and she could almost hear it.
She advanced to the door and opened it a few inches.
“Is everything alright?” a blue-eyed soldier asked.
“Yes, we had an argument, that’s all.”
“May we come in?”
“Don, I heard him scream,” the legionary behind his blue eyed companion said, his head was completely shaved and held his galea on his arm.
“Let us in,” the first one said. “Let us in unless Helius himself says no.”
“I mean...” Irema looked back, the soup soiling the ground, potatoes and beets all over, and the hidden body behind the bed.
“Woman, let us in, we have the authority to check if anything looks suspicious,” the blue-eyed soldier raised his voice.
“Understood,” she nodded. She opened the door and both soldiers stepped in, eyes wide open and scanning the place.
“What happened here?” the soldier said, eyeing the vegetables on the floor.
“We had an argument,” Irema said, lowering her head, fidgeting with her hair.
“Well half the block could hear that,” the bald soldier asked. “Now, where is he?” The soldier lifted his head and narrowed his eyes.
“He...” Irema looked around, bringing her nails to her lips as the first soldier advanced toward the bed.
He reached for the sheets and pulled them lightly. Irema bit her fingernails.
“What is this?” his companion said, scared. “Is this blood?”
“It’s beet juice!” Irema announced.
The bald soldier ran his finger through the mess.
“This be tasting real good!” he said lifting his bald head.
“Really?” the blue-eyed soldier let go of the sheets and strode toward them.
“Yes, have you tried it before?” the bald one asked.
“No,” the blue-eyed soldier looked at Irema, his expression had changed. “Where is your husband?”
“He...” Irema cleared her throat. “He went to the market to buy more vegetables. He was really hungry and said he did not want the scene to ruin his appetite, and he said he wanted the same soup to be made again.”
“So the market,” the bald one scratched his chin. “So you will make more soup for him, won’t you? Make extra for us, we’ll pass by after our patrol time.”
“It’ll be a pleasure,” Irema lifted her chin and faked a smile.
“Alright,” the blue eyed one looked around. “Say hello to him from us, see you later.” Both men marched outside, and she shut the door behind their backs. She sighed.
Now, what could she do about the body? And how could she tell mother without putting her at risk?
Chapter XVIII - The Sacred Texts
Sleeping in the forest was not enjoyable, especially with rocks permanently pressing against her neck. When Alana finally managed to sink into a deep slumber the second night after their escape, she dreamed her father had been taken captive. Waking up suddenly, she felt worse, and the pain in her neck and back pulsated through her, making her clench her teeth.
She crouched and wept in silence, holding her coat tightly. Kassius snored next to her, his mouth open and saliva dripping. She grimaced. Good thing he was not her real husband.
She took a deep breath. Her stomach roared, but nothing hurt as much as her soul.
She shut her eyes and wiped her tears. A light pierced through the trees above her.
Like a joke. What did the gods want? The gods must be crazy, she thought.
Kassius snored loudly, and she staggered to her feet, restless. Suddenly, she heard a murmur between the bushes. She fidgeted with the hilt of the knife under her belt and swallowed.
She stood still, knife in hand, as Kassius moved next to her, giving a long sigh and opening his eyes. He looked around, confused.
"Good morning, Ala.” He turned, supported his weight on one arm, and smiled.
"Shh...” She gave him a freezing glance. Kassius seemed to understand immediately as he scrambled to his feet and stood behind her, as if needing her protection.
Alana breathed slowly, trying hard to discern the sound that came from the trees.
Somebody was breathing heavily.
She held the knife forward and advanced stealthily in reverse, pressing with the edge of her heels and moving slowly.
They'd better run.
"Let's run,” she said, turning around quickly.
She heard a scream from behind. She swallowed and turned her head slowly. A small body was looking at her, eyes wide open, face dusty, and bruises on his cheeks and forehead.
"Tor...” She stared at him with eyes wide-open, as the boy ran toward her and wrapped her in his arms. She returned the gesture. "My gods... What happened to you?”
Alana looked into his blue eyes, and he gesticulated how he had been beaten, but not killed, and had run away.
“Gods... I don't know what we should do. What do you think, Kassius?”
“I don’t believe you're safer with us around. We're going to do some really dangerous stuff. I say you go back,” he said to the boy.
The boy shook his head, determined.
“You’re not going back there?” she interpreted.
“I’m telling you, kid,” Kassius said, crossing his arms.
“He says he’d rather be dead than go back,” Alana said.
“Alright,” Kassius said. “But you’ve got to be careful around us.”
“Are you going to help us? I’d say you just remain in the back,” Alana said. “Fine. You want to help? You may.”
“Alana,” Kassius said sternly.
“He wants to help, he will,” Alana winked at Kassius.
“It’s dangerous for him.”
“And dangerous for us,” Alana said with her hands on her waist.
Kassius shook his head.
“What are you talking about? He’s a nine-year-old!”
“Eleven!” Alana corrected him, tilting her head. “And we’re fifteen and sixteen. I’m not talking about telling him to stab people in their sleep but, you know. He can help.”
Kassius raised an eyebrow.
“Well, we’ll see.”
Alana and K
assius paid attention to Tor’s lips. He wanted to tell them something.
“Father? Your father?” she asked.
“He says they killed him,” Kassius completed the thought.
“I understand him, Kassius. So… You want to do what to them?” Alana was surprised at the furious desire for vengeance. “Well, now. Let’s just get some food! I’m starving. You’re also hungry, aren’t you?”
“I’ll get something to eat,” Kassius said, unfolding his bow and proceeding it to string it.
***
There was nothing to hunt in that part of the forest, and if there was it hid well. Their hunger increased every hour, and no fruit nor mushrooms were found in those hours.
“I’m sorry,” Alana said, sitting next to the cold creek with her arm around Tor’s shoulders. She sighed. “What do you suggest, Kassius? Should we wait for night rats to come out?”
Kassius sighed and shook his head. Alana knew Kassius well; he did not want to talk. He sat under a birch and took out a small scroll from his bag. Alana refrained from asking but stared at Kassius in silence.
Suddenly, she realized Tor was not with her anymore. She jumped to her feet and looked around.
“Tor?” she said. She noticed bubbles in the creek below and the sudden splashing of water. “Kasha! I think Tor fell into the water!”
Kassius got up and dropped the scroll. He ran to the creek.
“Tor! Please respond! Kassius, rescue him!” Alana said.
“I don’t know how to swim!” he said, his skin going pale.
“Then! Oh my gods! Poor boy. Life was not fair to him. What should we do?” She looked from side to side. She had an idea. She ran to the shore and looked between the bushes. Should she jump into the water? The current was strong. She had already been there, and she almost died. She swallowed. She found water itself frightening.
She found a solution, and she tore a tree branch and moved to the edge. Tor was moving in a straight line in the water but on his back. Then, he immediately turned, like a tadpole, and he rose up taking a deep breath.
Tor looked at her and smiled, his head rising and water dripping down from his hair. He paddled with his legs toward the bank. He did not need to be saved after all.
“Tor! What were you doing down there!” Alana said, panting.
Tor lifted his arms. He held a fish as big as a kitten, it twisted and turned in agony. He calmly swam back to the shore and threw it over the brown grass, then climbed up onto the banks and shook his head like a puppy.
“Dry yourself off!” Kassius handed him his coat, and Tor wrapped it around his shoulders.
“Amazing!” Alana reached for the struggling fish and hastened to grab it in her arms. “Kassius. See? I told you he would be useful. And Kasha, please tell me you brought some spices with you.”
“I’m not a cook.”
“Salt?” she asked.
“Nay. Do I look like a cook, Alana?”
“You Itruschians don’t know anything about food,” she teased him. “Well, I’m gonna make something nice out of this bad boy.”
“You better,” Kassius jumped to his feet. “I’ll light up the fire again for you.”
Alana found a few herbs that had not dried off completely and crushed them in rocks to make seasoning. She prepared the fish and grilled it on the fire. Soon, they devoured it hungrily. And yet, it was not enough to satisfy them, so Tor volunteered to fish some more, and he caught three more fishes that received the same treatment.
“I feel guilty for eating all the fish so quickly,” Kassius muttered with his mouth full.
“What do you mean?” Alana asked, licking her fingers of the savoury oils.
“I mean, we should save some for later.”
“If we had salt,” Alana said.
“Should we go steal some salt?” Kassius wondered, scratching his growing beard.
“How?” she asked him.
“I don’t know.”
“First, we should resolve about the sacred texts. And what about what Aranus said about the menhirs? I’ve never seen a menhir in the forest, ever.”
“Yes, that,” Kassius grabbed the fish’s spine with both hands and scraped it for the last crumbs of meat and swallowed it. He lay down on his back against a tree and yawned. “I think we should go at night.”
A clap rang through their ears. Tor was calling for their attention.
“What is it, Tor?” Alana asked.
Tor pointed at himself.
“You want?”
Tor gesticulated; he pointed at himself, then he stretched out his hand and using his fingers, imitated a person walking and retrieving something.
“No way, boy. We can't let you do it.”
Tor pointed at him, clenched both fists, put them together, and pulled his right arm back slowly.
“I think he means you should go with your bow,” Alana interpreted.
“Follow you with my bow and wait for you outside, is that what you mean?” Kassius asked.
Tor nodded.
“I think it’s better if we go at night, Alana and me. I don’t want you to get hurt any more than you are now. You know how cruel they are.”
Tor pressed his hands together, as if in prayer.
That boy was very persistent. Alana had thought she was reckless, but she could not compare with that boy. He wanted to do everything. Maybe Kassius was right, he was so rash he could get in trouble quite easily. She sighed. But at the same time, Kassius and her were fugitives. They had killed soldiers. Tor could still pass by as a normal boy.
“Kassius. I say we let him go,” Alana said. “Anyway, he's not going into a bandit's cave or anything. He just wants to sneak into a sanctuary and get some pieces of hemp paper. It's the easiest thing in the world.”
“Still, it's not safe,” Kassius said.
“What if we ask the gods? You know? Like when we used to go to war, and the Oracle had to tell us first?” Alana suggested, wiping her hand of the fish fat with a fallen leave.
Kassius sighed.
“That’s a good idea,” Kassius said. He stood up and decided for the most ancient and proven method. He grabbed three sticks, marked one with red ink and put them together in his hand, mixing them and hiding the red side.
“Goddess of fate, please indicate the right one to go.” He held them upright. Alana was the first to draw. It was a normal stick, she sighed in relief.
The next one to draw was Tor, he lifted it with his skinny but calloused fingers, and Kassius squeezed his lips when he saw the fresh red ink on the tip of the stick.
But the boy smiled as if he had earned a toy sword.
If Tor was going to be the one, they had to carry out the operation in open daylight. They walked from their camp toward the hill. From there, they could already see the village and smoking furnaces and chimneys. As they kept moving forward Alana noticed a piece of paper nailed to a tree. She raised an eyebrow.
“This wasn't here when we came.” Alana narrowed her eyes. “Look. This drawing looks like someone I know. What does it say?”
“Let me see,” Kassius approached and examined the sign. He opened his eye wide, as if in shock. “By Saturn's beard. That's me?”
“What?” Alana shook her head.
“Wanted for treason. Kassius Filus Marius Filusdyapitar. My gods. For a reward of fifty bronze coins.”
“No way,” Alana said, horrified.
“Well,” Kassius cleared his throat, then looked back at Alana. “It also accuses you of dishonouring the nation.”
“I don't care, but... Blast. This is not good.”
Tor stared at them with his hands on his hips.
“For sure. Now, if my dad finds out, he's going to kill me with his own hands.” Kassius blinked. Alana noticed tears gathering in his eyes.
Tor cleared his throat. Kassius looked at him and sighed.
“Well. Better be very careful,” he said. “A
nd you'll let me write magical staves on your chest. You'll need their protection.”
“Kassius, we talked about that,” Alana said with a frown.
“So what? It worked for me when I went to see Grandfather. Boy, trust me on this one, sigils work.”
***
Tor had just been through the worst day of his life. His mother was still in hell, in other words, at the occupied village mill, the place he once called home. Father had died, and Tor could not get himself to see the body. He had not been able to cry but stared at the wooden walls for hours. Three old soldiers had been assigned to take care of the house. They did not know anything about how mills worked, and they broke two of the levers. They did not know how to repair them, either; but the worst part of it was seeing how his mother had been degraded into a slave. She was too old to be of any interest to the soldiers, and him; her miracle child, had been forced to wash the latrine.
When he sneaked out, a disgruntled soldier caught him and beat him with the broomstick. His bruises still hurt, and it would take days to heal.
There was nothing he wished more than to stab an Itruschian soldier in the eye and see him twist and turn in pain. He had loved to hear about how Alana killed that soldier. She had saved him. She was incredible. He had always admired her from afar. Her eyes so big and sweet, her hair like rays of sunlight. Her skin like marble. She was perfect, and after hearing about her bravery, he was completely enthralled.
Tor sighed. He wanted victory. Now, he had a wish. Father had always told him to never yield, that their people were born to be free; that their calling was to help others, like Alana had.
And Tor swore in his heart that he would do anything to honor his father’s words.
Kassius and Alana prayed for him, and Kassius drew a bizarre constellation on his chest.
“You are ready, boy. Take care,” Kassius said, he was as tall as a tower. Tor nodded in agreement.
Tor walked down through the woods to the lowest point of the village where the sanctuary stood, with pillars guarding the wooden walls built in Itruschian style. A soldier patrolled outside, leaning against a pillar, with an iron spear in hand. He seemed distracted, and the gates were wide open.
Sword of Ares Page 14
