Wings of Fate: The Lost Ones

“They will not return any sooner for your having stood at the window watching for them, sister.” Klotho murmured, moving to the arched opening of their second floor window where Atropos stood nodding in distraction. “Has Isis gone yet?” she asked.

“Yes, an hour ago, and promised to return as soon as an answer is given.” The situation was almost unbearable. To be so close to the end, to have only so much further to go, and here they were -- staring through a window waiting for a mortal to save them.

The irony was not lost on Atropos. There were many ironic paradigms in the situation -- no other being claimed strength greater than that of her family, certainly no mere mortal. Her ingrained distaste for the salient humans was further insulted by the situation with the Queen Mother.

Even more than that though, she thought with a sigh, now I am destined to become one of them. There was no definable reason why her immortality was failing before any others. Was it a twist of fate that she, the Fate of Death, should be the first to taste death?

Perhaps it was just.

Perhaps it made the most sense, considering her antipathy for the mortals, that she would be destined to become one of them. The fact that she would die, actually die, was only part of the problem. The bigger problem was she was beginning to think like a mortal -- scrambling to finish projects, writing goodbye letters to be delivered after her death, desperate to see and do things she had put off. It was something the mortals did that always made her roll her eyes.

And now here she was.

Atropos glanced at Klotho, trailing by sight alone along the smooth path of her sister’s flawless cheek. The high cheekbones they each shared, a gift from their mother. She would never say so but Klotho was her favorite person, her best friend. She was the complete opposite of herself so they should have had conflicting personalities but it had never worked that way. In Klotho she saw the promise of forgiveness and continuity of life.

Her sister was slender, with small hands that hardly seemed capable of containing the powers she had. People looked upon Klotho as a weak individual overly sensitive especially where the mortals are concerned. But there existed steel within her that would terrify some if they had cause to witness it.

As well they may one day have.

She possessed a lifetime of experience with mortals – both watching from a distance and interacting. Before the decaying process known as Abiotrophia began she believed she understood mortals – their morals, their motivation. They were desperate thieves aching constantly for some unattainable thing for which they would commit murder. Their unending weakness created in them powerless, whiny, unreliable personalities. Mortals kicked dogs and wept over death beds. Or wept when the will was read.

Their greed and fear allowed the current situation – not only bred it, but fostered it until it destroyed life. Even immortal life. Mortals, since the dawn of their creation, destroyed everything. Atropos was next in line.

Perhaps because the Abiotrophia began first with her – leaving her to watch others use their powers while hers slowly degenerated – perhaps that was reason enough to explain why she was alone in her pessimism. No one wanted to hear how Raven would fail. The girls’ genetic makeup had little use here in this war. Raven was just a woman, in her mind, and until she believed in the power of her blood-line, she would be useless.

And yet they could not tell her.

Even as the friends and family Atropos had known all her life…fell.

“Mother!” Athena exclaimed, darting across the tiled floor of the Moirai’s living room. A tall, dark-haired woman elegantly dressed in a floor-length navy dress stood quickly from her chair and, in one fluid movement, crossed the room and swept her daughter into her arms.

“Oh, my darling girl,” the woman crooned, sweeping one hand along the back of Athena’s red head. Raven forcibly snapped her mouth shut. This woman was the greatest warrior goddess in history; she had killed more men over the last few days than the rest of them had killed combined. Athena had moved relentlessly forward as though never growing tired; her marks always dead-on. Two days ago the warrior goddess was covered in blood and now she stood curled inside her mother’s arms looking surprisingly frail. It was a startling revelation for Raven to remember Athena was also a woman -- had been someone’s child. “I’ve been sitting here worried for days and days.” Her mother whispered.

Atropos raised white eyebrows and leaned back into the leather cushions beside Klotho. “Honestly, Metis, you arrived only yesterday.”

Athena and her mother both laughed and stepped away from each other. Watching them made Raven’s heart lurch as she thought of her own mother. How devastated she must be, she thought, glancing away. She met Atropos’ glance and tried hard to remember how she had once been terrified of this woman.

The goddess stared hard at her. “You cut your hair.”

Raven ran a hand over the few inches left of her hair and hid a grimace. She never liked having short hair. “Yes, I did.” She answered simply.

Atropos slid her eyes to Athena who suddenly began smoothing busy hands over her clothes to be rid of invisible wrinkles. “Athena?” Atropos asked.

“Hmmmm?” Athena mumbled. “Oh, my,” she said in a way that made Raven absolutely sure the woman never said ‘oh my’. “I have dirt all over myself here – I better run upstairs and clean up.” The warrior goddess left the room in such a hurry there was no doubt she was fleeing.

Atropos glanced over Raven’s shoulder. Raven turned her head to see who stood there and caught Logan’s quickly retreating back and Lachesis staring at the ground at her feet.

“What happened?” Atropos demanded. Her voice was loud in the silence of the room. Raven looked up and caught the understanding expression settled on Metis’ face. She changed the direction of her glance to encompass the two Moirai sisters.

“We were attacked, of course, but that is why we were out there -- to see to the marauding soldiers.” She answered in a casual tone. “It was gruesome. But we found out what we needed to know.”

“Which was?” Metis asked.

“Whether or not the Queen Mother was involved in the activities of the soldiers, whether or not they were acting on her orders. They were.”

“She admitted it?” Klotho asked in surprise.

Raven shook her head in frustration. “No, we didn’t approach her but we followed a soldier to her front door so there is no doubt.”

“What else?” Atropos asked, digging for more information.

“About the Queen? That’s about it.”

“What else -- happened, I mean.” She clarified.

“Oh, after we left the Queen Mother’s home we headed back here. During the trip we were attacked by soldiers but we made it out of that okay. After stopping by the Woodlands we made the rest of the journey without any other distractions. By the way, the faeries departed this morning.” She said as a side note, going for distraction. As though shaking the random thought free, she straightened. “Now we are here. The end.” Stepping further into the room, she chose a spot to sit in one of the empty chairs.

That’s when she spotted the other woman reclining on the chaise lounge beneath one of the large windows behind the sofa.

Raven frowned. “Every time I turn around these days there are new people appearing.”

“Who else appeared?” Klotho asked, leaning forward.

Raven waved a hand in the direction of the kitchen. “Artemis and Phoebe returned with us. We ran into them on the way here. They’re outside in the stables.”

Atropos glanced at Klotho in some unspoken communication causing the younger fate to stand and leave the room. “This is Isis.” Atropos, said, introducing the new woman. Raven gave Isis a cursory inspection and decided she was definitely part of the gods and goddesses brood. Luminescent skin was mostly hidden beneath a shiny, golden dress similar in style to Metis’ dress. Golden thong slippers barely covered the dainty toes bouncing back and forth with the force she used swinging one leg crossed over her knee.

The only difference Raven could surmise between Isis and the other goddesses she had met so far was that Isis had very plain features. Alabaster gray eyes of unremarkable shape and size watched her just as closely as Raven watched her. Long brown hair draped across her cheek and very nearly hid a long, beak-like nose jutting out of the center of an oval face, which overpowered the tiny lips beneath it.

“Hi.” Raven finally said.

“Hello, Raven. You will have to forgive my voice,” she said, self-consciously touching her throat with fingertips, “I’ve been speaking a lot these last few days and I am afraid my voice is about to give out.” She finished with a little laugh and glanced at Atropos.

Atropos turned her attention to Raven. “Isis is a messenger.”

“Oh. Okay.” Raven said, wondering if that was supposed to explain anything, then leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Would she ever sleep again? A full, long, deep sleep?

“Are you sure you are okay, Raven?” Atropos asked, concern evident in her voice, but Raven could not work up more lies or efforts towards the deceit. It seemed important to everyone that they not discuss what happened with Clarissa and, since it did no good to talk about it, Raven was fine with letting go. More silence filled the room when she did not respond.

A soft hand smoothed down the jagged edges of her hair on the top of her head. Raven opened her eyes to stare unemotionally up into the kind brown eyes of Athena’s mother. Neither of them spoke a word but when Raven closed her eyes again, Metis continued to pet her hair.

“Raven, you’re back!” Raven’s eyes shot open at the excited remark. Prince Nicolaus bounded down the stairs and skidded to a stop before reaching her side. His smile dimmed when he saw her. “What happened to your hair?” he asked.

“I cut it.” She replied.

He scowled. “I can see that, Raven. Why did you cut it?”

“It was…” she waved a hand in the air lazily. “…hot outside, my hair was long, there was sweat involved.”

All expression fled his face. “You’re lying.” He accused with a searching look.

Raven had no trouble keeping the tears out of her eyes but felt them burning behind her lids. I am so tired, she thought, so very tired. “I brought visitors with me Nicolaus.” She said in a low voice, hoping the ten-year old boy hidden within him somewhere would be enticed into curiosity. It worked. He turned a complete circle where he stood and frowned.

“Are we talking like invisible people or what are we talking here?”

She smiled. “They’re outside in the stables. Go say hello.” She tilted her chin towards the kitchen and he took off.

“You are good with children,” Metis remarked, resuming her stroking of Raven’s hair. “Do you have any of your own?”

“No,” Raven answered, closing her eyes again. “I hate kids.”

The ladies chuckled.

The enforced march from Lord Belkin’s home to the Queen Mother’s castle started before sunrise. Though their hands were bound at their backs, tied to the point of circulation loss, the three were not blindfolded and their feet remained free. An escape made without free hands is difficult, but doable. Managing to sneak away when under the constant scrutiny of nine soldiers – impossible. Even with a broken arm Bael considered the option.

He moved against Austin, ready to protect him. After days beneath a mountain of stone, starving and frozen in the castle’s prison, the three were released from the cell. Released, but not free. Under constant guard, according to the Queen’s instructions, the prisoners were to be transported to her castle immediately, along with all available soldiers. As they stood in Lord Belkin’s expansive gray marble foyer, the murmurings of passing soldiers caught Bael’s attention and he was, therefore, unaware when Austin suddenly sprang to life.

In a surprising reaction to the threat of being taken to the Queen Mother, Austin launched himself at the soldier guard. His small body slammed into a wall of a soldier, knocking the man backwards, and Austin punched him repeatedly in the face, all the while the sound of his hoarse bellowing reverberated off stone walls.

It took nearly a full minute before anyone could do more than stare slack-jawed at the spectacle. Bael reacted only a second before the surrounding soldiers moved to close in on Austin but still, one of the soldiers was closer to the activity than he was and grabbed the boy before Bael could. It resulted in violent wrestling as Bael attempted to pull Austin out of the soldier’s meaty fists. When a grinning Ares jumped into the mix, shoving and punching at the soldier so his grip would relax enough for Bael to pull Austin free, it brought the rest of the soldier guard into the fray.

Two soldiers grabbed at Bael, trying to pull him away. Bael released his hold on Austin’s shirt just long enough to shove his elbow backwards into the closest soldier’s face. When that man fell backwards, cupping his nose to catch blood, it knocked the other soldier back as well. Bael turned his full attention back to yanking Austin free.

Half a dozen fists were flying but somehow Austin managed to keep his head down. The same could not be said for Bael who, in the end, shoved away from the soldiers with Austin clutched beneath one arm while the other arm dangled broken at his side. He bit down on the pain, staring in a blatant dare at the group of soldiers who stood with their arms stretched to their sides as though to prevent an escape. Bael wasn’t trying to escape.

Ares put himself between the soldiers and Bael and Austin, staring the soldiers down with the same mutinous expression flashing on Bael’s face. The soldiers’ torso’s rose and fell with each heavy, excited breath taken, obviously ready for a fight. Even knowing Ares had none of his legendary power, the man still stood ready, and eager, to fight.

Bael jerked his head, trying to clear his mind from the pain-addled fog taking over. Ares couldn’t win this fight alone. Looking behind him, Bael searched for a safe place for Austin to hide. Other than fleeing through the front door and in the direction of a hallway that lead to who-knew-where, there was nowhere to plant the boy.

“ENOUGH!” All heads in the room swiveled towards a corner where an old woman appeared, seemingly, from nowhere. Bael looked behind her then and noticed the small dark corridor neatly hidden. Ares turned to look at him with raised eyebrows and tilted his head towards the old woman as if to ask if she was the one he met with. Bael nodded imperceptibly.

While the soldiers didn’t kneel or show her deference in any way, their fear was palpable and evident in the way they froze as she shuffled further into the room. Her unnaturally blue eyes, bright enough in the dim room even across the several yards separating her from Bael’s position, skimmed over the soldiers as if in search of an out-of-place hair or an offensive expression. She was haughtier than he remembered. After her scrutiny of the soldiers was concluded, she glanced fleetingly at Bael but her attention was riveted by Ares.

The witch stared at him in unnerving silence for a full minute before Ares shifted his weight to one leg and said, “see anything you like old lady?” his cavalier tone might have caught Bael off guard but the witch only flashed rotted teeth at him. Instead of a menacing expression she seemed…pleased. That fleeting child-like quality Bael glimpsed in her eyes that night in the stone room now reappeared for the smallest of moments.

One of the soldiers, seeing the relaxed and personal expression on her face, made the unfortunate decision to snap a command. “We don’t have time for your flirtations old woman.” He snarled with one hand on thick wooden club hitched at his hip.

The pleased expression fled so quickly it was as though Bael had only imagined it was there. Her gaze, piercing and malevolent, flickered to where the stupid soldier stood glaring balefully. She twitched her hand at him in a timeless gesture of someone swishing away a pesky fly or in dismissal one’s children. The movement itself was graceful; its fluidity made even more surprising by her age, but the result was terrifying.

Austin clutched Bael’s shoulder as he stared at the soldier who first began choking and gasping in air before gurgling up what appeared to be every ounce of blood coursing through his veins. The man’s pallor faded from red belligerence to gray death. The other soldiers, his comrades in arms, moved away from him. No one tried to help.

Bael looked into the soldiers’ faces wondering what they thought they were fighting for and why they would want to be on a team where no one would lift a finger to save you from death.

“So pathetic, wouldn’t you agree Ares?” the witch asked in a smooth voice.

Ares raised a brow at her. “A dying man is never pathetic.”

She glanced towards the now-still body on the marble floor and returned her attention to Ares with a cock of her head. “I find it interesting that you feel that way, considering how you find yourself to be a pathetic man now that you are wasting away, but what I meant was how pathetic it is that a handful of soldiers cannot keep one small child in-line without causing injury.” Her eyes slid away from him and shifted to Austin who did his best to duck behind Bael.

“Come here boy.” She called. Austin dug his fingers into Bael’s skin as though to shove himself further into invisibility.

“She won’t hurt you.” He assured Austin. The boy met his eyes over his shoulder. The round brown eyes looked lively considering their imprisonment -- his expression still feral. Although unsure if he was correct in his assumption about the witch, Bael had an idea she would not harm him. Besides, she stood very near to Ares and he would be close enough to react. Austin sighed heavily and, releasing Bael’s shoulder, slid to the floor.

As Austin moved towards her, Bael watched the old woman’s face, amazed at her ability to keep her thoughts free from her face while being completely unaware of what she revealed with her eyes. Longing. Fear. Protection.

“Do you know,” she paused, eyeing him, “that everyone thinks you are someone you are not?” she croaked, lifting her nose imperiously.

Austin tilted his head to the side and glanced pointedly at Ares. “That’s true for just about everyone in this room isn’t it?” he asked, crossing his arms.

The witch laughed. The sound was melodious as it arched and bounced around the marble room. “Aren’t we all, you say? Indeed so.” She glanced around the room again with a smile that quickly faded into a frown. “Indeed so.”