Empress of the Gods

Atarah

As soon as Atarah left the cabin, she saw only two members of the coven on the porch. Eudora had dirt and blood on her armor, and she could see the bags under her olive-colored eyes when she looked at her, while Enver rested his head on the back of the wooden bench, watching for a moment with his artic-blue eyes the ceiling of the porch of the cottage as he put a hand on the bridge of his nose and his other arm resting on the back of the bench. Faelan and Cerys were not anywhere to be seen, and when she eyed Eudora, she turned away. She could only imagine what that meant, yet she didn’t dare to ask about them, neither to lower her mental shield to read her emotions to confirm it.

Her adoptive mother was speaking with Aeron and Seren, only that her third-in-command was biting her lower lip while she looked to the ground and had her arms folded. She looked like she was lost in her own thoughts, which was unlike her, and even seemed as if she had aged from one day to another. They all did.

Atarah had never seen them look that tired.

She remembered growing up with the coven and how they had taken care of her and her sister when Rhiannon and Aeron were not around. Enver and Cerys let her get away with everything. They even spoiled her. And from time to time, they were her accomplices by not giving her away with Rhiannon. But with Aeron, it was a different story.

Eudora had also scolded her every time she discovered her trying to conjure spells, while her sister was being scolded for skipping her lessons for being with her friends. Faelan was the only member of the coven that avoided them when they were younger because he didn’t like kids, although when they grew older, he became like a big brother to them, and used to scare Myrah’s suitors.

Atarah tried to stay close so she could listen to what they were talking about, but the moment Rhiannon saw her silenced Seren with the sole movement of her hand, and instructed Atarah to go to the stables. Aeron added that her sister was there with the hunter, but when she didn’t see her there, she could imagine where she was. At least Myrah had someone to say her farewells to.

The only one in the stables was the hunter named William with whom her life was now linked. Rhiannon must have given him a tidy sum of gold doubloons to motivate him for the journey since he could die if she died. Only she never told him that he had to be glued to her. So, he was practically free to leave whenever he wanted. Yet, he hadn’t done so.

“Still here, hunter? I thought you were long gone,” Atarah said as she approached her brown mare with a black mane. “You could escape when you got the chance, yet here you are,” she added when she gave the mare a carrot.

“And risk being killed before I can even leave this stable? I don’t think so,” he replied without looking at her as he continued to brush the mare.

“That’s why I thought you were long gone,” she said when she put her bag on the saddle of the horse. “I mean, if you were a hell of a hunter, why would you have a bounty over your head? You must be pretty bad at it if you ended up tied to a tree,” she teased him with one raised eyebrow and a closed-lip smile. William stopped brushing the mare for a moment but didn’t answer.

Atarah despised hunters after one of them almost killed her and her sister when they were younger. Without forgetting the bodies the coven buried, thanks to the hunters that roamed in Witches’ lands. She would never forget that. Also, she was trying to bait him so she could find out more about him, while she placed her things on another horse, trying to keep her distance in case William tried to threaten her again with one of his weapons. As he continued brushing the horse, she tried to read his emotions, but he seemed to have a mental wall similar to the one Rhiannon had. That made her trust him even less.

“How is it that a driadae, who lives among Witches, doesn’t know how to use her gifts?” William asked when he approached her.

“How do you…?” She didn’t even finish her question when she gave a step towards his direction.

“In case you forgot, they tied us to the same tree, and I heard loud and clear when they were fighting like hounds to see who would keep the prize.”

Atarah folded her arms after hearing the word prize. “You have some nerve speaking to me like that,” she replied, lifting her chin. “I never confirmed what I was, and I could have pretended, only to protect the ones in Khrysaor’s.”

“The mark on your wrist gives you away,” he gazed at her wrist, making her hide her hand on her back.

Driadaes were born with a birthmark, and hers looked like a transparent tattoo that stood out on her skin with a shape of a tree that on one side seemed to have some leaves—although they looked more like empty branches—and on the other side were its roots. “And let’s not forget about how you attacked those men,” he added, while he gave two steps to the front, getting closer to her, which made her want to take a step back, only she didn’t do it. “I’m not a hunter. I’m just merely a tourist in this realm.”

“Are you? How convenient,” she replied sarcastically, crossing her arms while she looked up at him. “Oh darling, I can assure you it wasn’t your pretty face neither your clumsy skills that gave you away,” she whispered. “Denying it won’t make it less truth. And I’m not the only one with a mark on my body to proof it, hunter,” she said with a half-smile.

Indeed, Rhiannon couldn’t have known with just one look she barely gave to him. And his clothes couldn’t give him away either. He could pass as a normal human in Khrysaor. Only Atarah could have noticed that when they were tied to the tree. He freed himself too fast, without forgetting how fiercely he’d fought with the other hunter. Not to mention, he was brave enough to almost challenge the living legend in her own house. Somehow, Rhiannon knew about the tattoo in his body, and she had a pretty good idea of who told her.

Yes, merely a tourist my ass. She thought.

It wasn’t easy to identify a hunter since their tattoos were unique, but Seren identified something characteristic in them and when she described it to her, she confirmed it.

“William,” he remarked his words.

“Yes, much better than hunter because you must suck at it if someone else wants to collect a bounty over your head. And again, that bad you were?” she taunted him, and he didn’t take his eyes off her.

She stared at the six-foot three hunter, who seemed to have washed the dirt and blood off his face when she was in her room. He appeared to be three winters older than her, and he had a full beard that made him look older and suited him nicely. She couldn’t help to think that the hunter in front of her, who seemed to be a warrior from the cold north, was attractive.

“Either you are dumb or reckless because, without your coven, you wouldn’t feel that brave speaking to me that way.”

“Should we find out?” She gave a step to the front, giving him a feline smile. “The only difference is that you will die if I die.”

“You know something? You will have a chance to find that out,” he said.

But before she could answer, Aeron entered to the stables with a serious look on his face along with Myrah by his side.

“Get on the horses,” Aeron ordered as he walked toward his black stallion. Myrah got on the horse where she had placed the dagger while she climbed on the mare William had brushed. When William climbed Enver’s white mare that had gray spots, she understood none of the other coven members were going with them.

Atarah felt the weight of the grimoire she carried in her cross-shoulder bag. She saw Rhiannon at the stables entrance with her sword on her back. The mask she always used was fading away. Rhiannon glanced at Aeron in gratitude as she took just a few steps on their side and then stopped.

“What is going on?” Myrah asked after she saw Atarah stop her horse.

“You better get going,” Rhiannon whispered at her side when smoke rose into the sky, causing it to darken as if it were a cloudy day. She didn’t move an inch. She couldn’t. And Atarah saw watery eyes on Rhiannon’s face with one tear that slid down her cheek. She felt Aeron and William’s eyes on her, but she didn’t care.

“Mom.” Myrah got off her horse and ran to her mother, who received her with open arms.

Atarah listened to her sister’s wobbly voice, making her feel guilty while Rhiannon closed her eyes tightly.

She thought her sister was prepared for that moment, but the truth was none of them were.

“You need to leave, now.” Rhiannon tried to put on the mask of a cold General, but she was failing to do so. “Go. I’ll catch up with you later,” she promised, but Atarah knew it was a lie. “Aeron,” her voice trembled when she called her second-in-command after no one moved. It was the first time Atarah saw him questioning his leader’s decision.

Atarah couldn’t move. She saw how Rhiannon tried to convince Myrah to climb again on her horse and when she did it, made William get on the same horse, but her sister tried to get off. William held her by the waist tightly enough that she couldn’t get down. The Silverclaw leader spoke in the old tongue, putting Myrah to sleep in an instant.

The soldiers with a night blue banner and black armor rode in their direction. Some of them pointed at them with arrows, and others prepared with their swords.

The last members of the Silverclaw coven unsheathed their swords, looking as if they had nothing at all to fear, waiting for their leader’s orders.

Aeron approached her on his horse. “Time to go,” he said in a soft voice as if she were a child, breaking the concentration she had on the brave soldiers that were her family. None of them gave them a last look, which slowly broke her heart, but she understood there was no time for goodbyes.

Rhiannon didn’t say another word, only looked at an empty space.

“I can fight. I’m ready,” she stated while she stared at Rhiannon and then at Aeron. “I can do it.”

“No,” Aeron firmly replied. “This is not your fight,” he added in a tone he had never used on her, but that she listened every time he gave an order to a soldier.

Rhiannon’s eyes were on the soldiers that moved towards them, and as if Aeron’s voice got her out of her thoughts, she walked towards her coven with her shoulders back, chin up, and unsheathing her sword. Then, the northern witch of the Silverclaw clan gave her one last look.

“Remember who you are, Atarah Genevra. You have more power in you than you think you have,” Rhiannon told her before she led her coven to one last fight, walking as if she was the daughter of the God of war and as if she was ready to face the goddess of chaos.

“We need to leave. Now,” Aeron said before he spoke in the language of spells to make her mare move.

They weren’t far from the stables when she heard a loud rumble behind them, forcing them to stop abruptly. Atarah saw how the flames licked the wood of her home and the stables while Rhiannon kept moving her sword swiftly and the rest of the coven tried to cover her back.

The sky darkened without a single light in it, and the air began to have an unpleasant smell.

Atarah dropped silent tears that began to fall hard as they rode away from what she used to call home. She had been running her entire life from her kind, and once again, she was running from the only place that had been her home.

She couldn’t imagine what Aeron felt, but she thought he must have been fighting himself to not turn around and fight alongside his leader and the coven; his family. All the discussions they must had about it.

“She’ll be fine,” Aeron’s voice seemed to tremble. Everything was far from being fine, but she understood why he had to repeat that lie so he wouldn’t return. He needed to concentrate on the task his leader had entrusted to him.

The sound of the horse’s hoofs against the ground could be heard behind them. The soldiers were getting close to them, riding to the sides as if they were trying to block their path.

“These soldiers are not the ones we left behind,” informed William to Aeron when arrows flew near them.

Aeron cursed under his breath while Atarah saw a horse approaching her, only she couldn’t utter any words. Thankfully, Aeron noticed in time. He shot arrows at those soldiers and used the language of spells to control the wind so he could throw them off their horses.

“Eyes on the road, Atarah,” he scolded her as they tried to escape.

But suddenly, Aeron slowed down the pace of his horse. “Aeron?” she asked in a haunted voice. “What are you doing?” she could barely hear her own voice when she slowed the pace of her horse.

“Don’t stop for anything, Atarah. Do you understand?”

Atarah was trying to understand what he was saying, what was happening, but everything was happening too fast.

“What do you plan to do?” She could listen to the panic in her voice, begging to the gods that it wasn’t what she was thinking.

“Promise me you’re not going to stop no matter what you see,” he asked, but she didn’t want to answer. “Atarah,” he demanded an answer from her, but he was not giving her time to think about it.

“I promise.” Those two words felt bitter on her tongue. Her tears began to fall again on her cheeks, and she dared to turn around. She saw him unsheathing his sword and giving the first strike to knock out the enemy. Moving the blade with the speed of a snake while he used the air through the language of spells, making it a dance between him and his enemy. Even if she knew how skilled the second-in-command was with the sword, she couldn’t leave him alone, so she halted the horse, and William stopped with her.

Atarah was about to move towards Aeron when William moved the horse in front of hers to stop her. She glared at him and centered her attention again on Aeron, who moved his head in denial when he glanced at them. That was the only one reason why she didn’t continue moving.

She heard her name on William’s lips, but she could only watch the brave warrior fight. She’d never seen the coven fight, although she had seen them in training, moving impeccably with each strike they gave as if nothing escaped them.

“Go away,” Aeron shouted after he easily dodged and cut to one of the soldiers as he used the language of spells to use the wind to throw the others away from him. But she noticed something. The spells Aeron cast were not working with them, making it futile for him to use the language of spells, leaving him only with his sword skills. Moving as if he knew where the next strike would come from. “Go,” he yelled again, blocking one of the soldier’s attacks. Until more soldiers arrived and surrounded him.

Some arrows flew toward William, Myrah, and her, forcing them to move their horses backward.

Aeron tried to shield himself from the arrows, but some of them hit him in the back. He continued fighting as if the arrows didn’t harm him, trying to use the language of spells to create a kind of invisible shield to stop the rain of arrows coming toward them. “Leave,” he said before he fell to his knees, staring at her. He mouthed the word go before the soldier finished what he started, seeing the empty stare in his eyes.

Suddenly, she heard a scream before a strong wind headed to where the soldiers were, bending the trees on its path. She went from witnessing Aeron’s death to leaning on the back of the horse, listening to a strange sound in her ears. William seemed to be telling her something, but she couldn’t hear it. She could only see him move his lips.

“Atarah,” William’s tone started to increase until she heard him loud and clear, taking her out of the trance she was in. Only she didn’t want to move. She promised Aeron she wouldn’t stop, and she had done so. She was about to ride to where the motionless body of Aeron was when William approached with his horse, holding Myrah with one arm. “We can’t stay.” He contemplated her as if he knew what she was thinking.

“What do you care?” she hissed.

“There are more soldiers coming our way. If we don’t leave now, they will surround us, and their deaths will be in vain.” He signaled with his gaze towards the fire. “Your sister still needs you,” he reminded her, softening his gaze, but still, she didn’t move. “Atarah,” he pronounced her name again so she could start moving her horse.

So, she gently squeezed her horse’s sides with her legs, and the mare began to move again.

She didn’t hide any of her tears, and when she glanced back, she heard William telling her to keep riding.

They were approaching one of Khrysaor’s borders, trying to dodge the arrows around them as they rode furiously, but it didn’t seem to be enough.

“We have to lose them,” she yelled at him while she gave a quick look back.

“We will when we get into the Eirian Forest,” William replied when Myrah was starting to wake up and looked disoriented.

“Are you insane? No living creature in their right mind would go inside that place.”

“Exactly,” he replied.

William was right. It was the only chance they had to lose them once and for all, although they couldn’t know if it would work. They would not only have to deal with the soldiers, but also with whatever inhabited those woods.

The first line of trees that appeared at the entrance indicated that life had stopped flourishing in the Eirian Forest a long time ago. Where only those with a death wish ventured. She’d listened to stories about those woods; once someone crossed that first line of leafless trees, it was said they wouldn’t return. She also heard rumors about the thick fog that covered it, causing travelers to hallucinate, making their own nightmares come to life in front of their eyes. The cursed woods seemed to be a wall that protected Khrysaor and Egorah from mortal realms. It helped to prevent human kingdoms from daring to invade other realms. “Stay close,” William said when he crossed the thick fog in front of them.

Atarah didn’t like that that was the only chance they had to get out of that place, but she would rather fight with a creature than be captured by soldiers. She believed she could trust the hunter for now. After all, she’d saved his life. And there was no way he would kill her without also ending his life in the process. She was counting on him cherishing his life enough to not let her die.