Wings of Fate: The Lost Ones

When Nicolaus left his room he was greeted by the scent of boiling carrots and baking bread floating through the hallway. Stomach growling, he followed the low murmur of female voices. His mother’s castle was a quiet place. The soldiers and servants were silent, talking in the muted whispers the Queen demanded of them. It was unclear why noise disturbed his mother but even had a servant accidentally dropped a spoon the Queen would fly into a rage and have the servant beaten.

Because of such strictness of policy the servants wore no shoes in order to mute the sound of their footfalls and they learned to speak to each other by sign language so there would be no chance of their voice traveling into some remote area of the castle where his mother rested.

The silence was near to deafening.

However, the Queen would become enraged if she thought her soldiers were falling into laziness and so the soldiers made as much noise as possible outside. If Nicolaus neared one of the dozens of open slats cut into the brick walls of the castle the clanking of metal against metal would drift to him from where the soldiers practiced in the bailey.

With castle servants following orders of silence and discretion, he rarely saw them. The soldiers, for the most part, remained outside and therefore Nicolaus was mostly left alone. The one shining light at home was his father, an honorable man and loving father. The Queen was not to be bothered by her son but the King spent hours teaching him how to ride horses, how to track animals, and how to use a sword.

And when to hide.

When his father went missing -- everything changed. It was terrible enough, the things his mother did in his fathers’ absence, but on a more selfish level -- he missed his dad.

Needed him.

Nicolaus’ leather boots moved with silent footsteps across the floor of the living room while he pressed his palms against the front of his pants. Turning the corner that lead through the kitchen doorway he met the gaze of five women as they looked up.

His gaze slid to where Raven stood at the sink window. She smiled and he thought, not for the first time, how beautiful she was, even with the faded bruises dotting her face. She was so unlike anyone he ever met. Raven was the first female in whose presence he felt safe, as though it was unnecessary to look over his shoulder or perk up his ears to hear what was being said behind his back.

He felt normal -- as though she did not care he was the Queen Mother’s son. Raven was nice but not because she feared his mother. He was certain she would not lie to him. And he did not have to worry he would be killed in his sleep. He knew they were tied together.

And he knew, just as surely, he would do whatever it took to protect her from his mother.

“Hey there, Nicolaus.” Raven said.

He returned her smile. “Hello,” he said, brushing hair away from his eyes. Lachesis stood at the brick island in the center of the room, cutting pieces of meat with a large knife, and glanced up. “Hungry?” she asked, raising one thin eyebrow.

“Oh yes,” He said, rubbing his stomach, “very.”

“Good, you can wash up over at the sink.” She suggested tilting her head toward where Raven stood.

“Did you get enough rest Prince Nicolaus?”

He glanced over at the only real stranger in the room, the red-haired woman who met them in the valley. She stood idly in a short white dress with her long tanned legs crossed at the ankles. Her dark eyes seemed friendly enough but he did not trust her.

“I did, thank you.” He inclined his head as he headed for the sink.

“What are we having?” Nicolaus asked, scrubbing his hands. He glanced over his shoulder at Lachesis as her fingers shifted in deft movements over groupings of food lain out on the island.

“Pasta and bread,” she answered, glancing over her shoulder with the same raised eyebrow as if to say is that okay with you? Nicolaus smiled to himself, a small smile that went unseen as he turned back to the sink and glanced upward through the window. Pasta, he thought, happy.

Mutton was what the Queen served, and veil, and dry caked bread loaves. Silencing his internal groan at the memory, he cheered himself with the thought that his appetite would be content here.

The women resumed their conversation. Klotho exclaimed again over the strange cloaked man on the raft whom had deigned to speak to Raven. There was a bit of silence and more exclaiming over this and somewhere in the conversation he understood the man never spoke.

There was no question in his mind as to why the cloaked man would speak to Raven. She was special -- one could tell simply by looking into her eyes. They were blue like the Nefarian and some inner enchantment added a glow of light to the edges of the color. At times he saw her eyes unhappy and the colors darkened into a swirling maelstrom of darkened ocean water. As though a brooding storm held there.

At times she would laugh and the colors lightened into a pale shadow of their usual darkness, they twinkled and sparkled -- giving life to her happiness. Right now, as they had been the morning after Logan appeared in their camp, they were dull and hazy as though a gray curtain shielded something from view.

Raven’s eyes slid to his, catching him in the act of staring. She did not frown or look angry at his violation of her privacy -- instead she watched him for a moment as though seeing his thoughts played about on his face. Mumbling in apology, Nicolaus glanced away, fumbling with the soap and scrubbing nonexistent dirt from his palms.

After dinner Klotho led Raven to a door at the end of the second floor hall, several doors down from her room. The bathroom boasted tan and cream ceramic tile stretched across the floor before angling up all four walls, creating a space that looked larger by seeming to have no end. A large glass cabinet encased a toilet and next to that, a black iron cabinet hung from the ceiling with black cording.

Klotho opened the black cabinet to retrieve a plush black towel and, after handing it over, she waved Raven in the direction of the bathtub and left the room. Raven stared at the pump-driven bathtub with a small smile, ready to relish being clean again.

After bathing, she returned to her room, clutching the towel against her body and holding her clothes pinched between two fingers an arms length away. Opening the bedroom door, her gaze fell on the afternoon light as it shone through the window and onto the bed.

Tan clothes were laid out next to a pair of tan leather knee-high boots.

Athena.

Raven stepped softly across the carpet and, laying the towel flat on the floor, she dropped her dirty clothes on top of it and reached for the new clothes. A bra and pair of panties, cut from the same material as the clothes, lay on top. She slipped the undergarments on, pulled the shirt over her head, and then slid the skirt over her legs, cinching the waistband around her hips. After rolling clean brown socks over her feet and sliding her feet into the boots, she moved to the mirror to inspect her reflection.

It hadn’t occurred to her that she and Athena were the same size, but apparently it suggested itself to the warrior goddess. Raven gaped at her image. Only if the plan was to swim, had she ever gone out in public with so much of her skin showing.

The tan leather top was small -- one inch shoulder straps narrowed into the square neck line, which hovered just below the tops of her breasts. Dark brown leather ties cinched down the front of her shirt and tied into a small bow at the nape of her back. A good six inches of skin showed between the bottom of her shirt and the top of her skirt. The skirt itself was plain leather and came to an abrupt end about mid-thigh. With her hair hanging wet and un-brushed to her waist she easily could have tried out for a part in the Robin Hood play.

Sighing at her reflection, Raven left the room.

The sunlight was beginning to fade in the hallway where it streamed through the open arched windows built into the wall. Raven moved towards one of the openings and leaned out into the current of heat circling outside the house. Just below, would be the front entrance to Treis-Soarta, she mused, as she could see the path leading away from the marble fountain and through the brick gate before it disappeared beyond the trees.

Raven stood for some minutes, combing fingers through her hair before tucking the strands behind her ears as she listened for the sound of the river. Birds calling to each other and the splashing water in the fountain were the only signs of life outside.

Somewhere out there Evol was alone doing whatever he does when he’s alone, she thought. Sitting by the river still? She wondered, leaning back into the shadows of the hallway. With a mental shrug, Raven continued the last few steps across the carpet leading to the top of the stairs.

White painted planks were nailed into an intermittent pattern along the wall of the staircase, butting up to the white carpet that continued down the two dozen or so steps leading to the living room.

Raven started to smile to herself, content at last with the cleansing sensation the cold shower left behind, when at the top of the stairs she paused. Low voices downstairs carried along the edges of the high-ceilinged room. Because of the angle of the staircase she couldn’t see who was downstairs and was about to return to her room when her name floated up the steps.

“How much time do we have?” Klotho asked.

“I do not know. I have not had any word from Zeus since we left to collect Raven.” Atropos answered in a tired voice. Another name recognized, she thought and considered returning to her room before being accused of eavesdropping again but the information given about everything was so limited. She was a curious person by nature but the war involved her. It didn’t make sense why they wouldn’t be more enlightening.

“Well, he did say just to bring her here and wait, so I guess we are waiting.” Lachesis’ velvety voice added.

“Yeah.” Atropos sighed.

“Should we send word, letting him know we have her here at Treis-Soarta, maybe speed things along?” Klotho suggested.

“No,” Atropos answered in a low murmur. “He knows, already, we were bringing her here. We should have been here days ago and it is possible, of course, that Isis has already been here.”

“I did not think of that.” Klotho agreed.

“In that case, they could be worried because we had not made it, maybe we should send word.” Lachesis said, pressing the suggestion.

“No, I think we should wait. If Zeus-”

“What are you doing?” Athena whispered in her ear, drowning out the rest of Atropos’ response and making Raven jump. She glanced guiltily over her shoulder, meeting Athena’s eyes. The goddess applied light green eye-shadow and dark brown eyeliner to her eyes at some point and Raven was surprised to see it.

The only other person on DeSolar whom she had seen wearing makeup was the Queen Mother. Perhaps it is more common that I realized, Raven considered, wondering if she might be able to borrow some of Athena’s supply and then shrugged the thought away as being unimportant.

Because it was obvious she was eavesdropping she didn’t bother replying to Athena’s question. “Let’s go outside,” Athena suggested with raised eyebrows. Raven nodded and waited for Athena to start down the stairs. The goddess wore her hair pulled into a bun at the top of her head. Red tendrils escaped the hair tie and curled around her ears and along the neckline of her dress.

When they stepped through the living room Raven glanced up and met the eyes of the women. Lachesis and Klotho lounged on the deep cushions of a tan leather sofa across from an exhausted looking Atropos who sat alone on a matching couch.

Sunlight filtered through the arched windows on either side of the floor-to-ceiling fireplace, allowing rays to fall in glowing streams across the pale white heads of all three of the Moirai sisters who watched in silence as she and Athena crossed the room to the kitchen.

Once they reached the back yard, Athena led her to the stable, asking her to wait outside while she opened the double doors and stepped into the darkness. Raven turned then, took a deep breath of the garden scented air, and shoved her hands into the small pockets stitched into the back of her borrowed skirt. Staring up at the side of the house, where the window to her bedroom was, she wondered where the guys were.

Raven began to sweat just as Athena returned with a brown leather satchel draped over one shoulder, a bow slung over the other, a long-bladed sword in one hand and a quiver of arrows in the other.

Raven raised her eyebrows. “Has the war begun, then?”

Athena laughed, a tinkling sound, and her eyes sparkled. “That’s funny, no – not yet.” Raven followed her to the clearing between the house and the garden where Athena set everything down on the grass. A few feet away a gray stone fountain gurgled as water splashed lazily into a bowl to be recycled somewhere within the fixture and then spat through the fountain top again. Small droplets of water splatter the ground a foot away from where Athena bent down on one knee to rummage through the leather bag.

Setting several small bundles of cloth on the ground, Athena glanced up at her, pursed her lips and grunted. “I think we will start with the bow.” As she grabbed the bow and several arrows, Raven scowled at the weapon, rubbing her side where a nasty scar survived the witch’s ministrations. Athena stood and glanced around them. “Have you ever used a bow before?”

“No, not ever.”

“Hmmm, well here, you hold it like this.” She said in an instructional tone. Athena wrapped one hand around a finger-shaped grip and, pulling the bow against her right cheek, used her right hand to pull the string backwards.

“Okay.” Raven said when Athena looked at her through the string to see if she understood. Athena straightened and handed her the bow. It was a few minutes of stumbling over the proper way to hold the weapon and how to pull the string back before Athena smiled.

“Alright, now let’s try this with an arrow.” Athena took the bow from her and placed an arrow against the string of the bow. Raven watched as she pulled the weapon against her cheek again, this time pulling back on the string while holding onto the arrow with her fingers. Her eyes narrowed as she stared along the length of the arrow where it lined up with her left arm.

The muscles in her arms bunched beneath the strain of the bow but she didn’t seem to notice. Athena braced her feet apart on the ground, firmly leveling herself before she turned suddenly at the waist and released the string. Raven’s eyes followed the direction the woman aimed and found the red feathered end of the arrow jutting out of a tree about twenty feet away.

“That was insane, Athena.” She breathed.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the way you moved so fast, you didn’t even aim.”

“Not true,” Athena replied. “I already knew the tree was there, had already targeted it so I knew where it would be. Stationary objects are easy but not all targets are stationary.”

“Is that a warning?”

“Indeed,” Athena handed the bow to her. “…your turn.” Raven took the wooden weapon and selected an arrow to use. Turning, she faced Athena’s target, brought the smooth curve of the bow to her cheek, pulled the string back and stared hard at the tree. The thin string pinched into the soft skin of her fingertips, making it difficult to concentrate. When the warm evening wind blew her drying hair against her neck it sent chills across her back.

Raven narrowed her eyes, doubling her efforts to concentrate on the spot just below Athena’s arrow, and released her own arrow. The thin string snapped as she let it go, humming as it vibrated. The vacant spot on the tree where she aimed was still vacant, her arrow lost somewhere amidst the trees and flowers. She glanced at Athena who was busily staring off into the garden.

“You look perplexed.” Raven commented.

“Huh?” Athena turned to her. “Oh, well, I mean -- I assumed you might at least hit the tree even if it was not where you were aiming.”

“Why would you make that assumption?”

“Because it’s basically an ‘aim and shoot’ weapon. You aimed, you shot but that is about all that worked out.”

“I’m what you would call a novice, Athena.” Raven pointed out.

“Ah, yes that is true. Well, do you want to try again or do you want to try a different weapon?”

“I say let’s move on,” Raven suggested wryly.

Athena kneeled and unwrapped additional cloth bundles, revealing various knives of different lengths and shapes. Plucking two identical knives from the group, she stood and demonstrated how one would hold knives as a weapon, then showed Raven some swiping moves. Raven took the knives and held them the way Athena had and mimicked her arm movements.

“That is good,” Athena smiled. “How do they feel in your hands?”

“Hmmm.” Raven answered, still making sweeping motions with her arms, bringing the knives forward and backwards around her body. “They’re easy to hold and move, but I feel like they won’t be good enough if someone were to attack me. I mean, how do you kill someone with a knife?”

“Well, true, it does take more effort I suppose, if you are just slashing at someone. You really have to hit specific spots on the body to have a good effect, you know, to stop your attacker.”

“I just don’t want anyone that near to me.” Raven mumbled.

Athena smiled in understanding and turned to her arsenal. “Let’s try the sword then.” When she handed over the sword Raven’s arm buckled under the weight.

“Holy hell!” she exclaimed. “Maybe I’m just not meant to use a weapon of any kind.”

Athena frowned in disapproval. “That is not an option, Raven. We have to outfit you with a weapon that you are comfortable using, otherwise you are defenseless.”

“Well, what do you suggest then?” Raven asked, expelling a heavy breath of frustration. She agreed with Athena and preferred any kind of weapon to none at all.

Athena stared at the ground in thought for a minute before her eyes widened. “Wait, I have an idea. Hold on I’ll be right back.” She said, almost breathless with sudden inspiration, and disappeared into the house. She returned a few moments later with weapons in each hand that were either long knives or short swords.

“What are those?”

“I think these will be perfect for you, let’s try them out.”

“What are they?” Raven asked again as Athena handed her the weapons. Wrapping her hands around the handles of each, she was thankful they did not make her arms feel burdened. And they seemed long enough to keep any would-be attackers a safer distance from her person.

“Those are called Sai swords. What do you think?”

Raven brought the black leather wrapped handle in her right hand up to her face. The sword had a small black jewel encrusted in the metal design right above the handle, with slender black swirls engraved all along the length of the blade. She smiled at the way the setting sun glinted off the narrowing steel blade. The entire piece was roughly the length of her arm.

“Sai swords, huh? I like them.” Raven twirled the two around in a mock fighting move, ending in a stance she had seen in many a movie.

Athena laughed. “Okay, well that needs work.”

Bael was right, the soldiers did come again, but they did not come only for Austin.