Wings of Fate: The Lost Ones

After a little over two weeks on DeSolar, Raven thought her senses would be attuned to the little nuances of discord to be felt when something wasn’t as it should be. The stray crack of a branch, an out of place chill on the air. Or the scuttle of loafers on the carpet of her room. She thought, given the thrills she’d experienced since arrival, she would awake at the slightest disturbance.

Perhaps the king-size bed covered in thick down blankets and pillows lulled her into such complacency that she slept too hard to notice. Perhaps because she was in the ancestral home of three goddesses she succumbed to some ridiculous sense of security. But however dull her sense of self-protection had become during the days at the Moirai’s home, it came back to life like a face full of icy water when a heavy male hand slapped over her mouth while she slept.

Stiffening, Raven launched a scream that should have brought the house down around her ears but because of the fingers clamped over her lips, sounded more like a muffled groan. Widening her eyes she struggled to see her assailant, struggled to see anything at all in the pitch black room but it was so dark it didn’t even allow for shadows.

Sucking in a thin stream of air through her nostrils, she yanked her knees toward her chest and slammed them into the man’s ribs. He grunted at the impact but otherwise gave no response to her attack. Panicking, Raven made a grab at his head to wrap her fingers through the man’s hair for a painful yank and immediately stilled. Shocked. But not shocked.

Of course.

She’d known he would show his true colors sooner or later. Had it been an act the whole time as she’d surmised? Playing the Moirai like a gaggle of school girls while he wound himself further into their group? To get closer. She didn’t have to ask what he needed to be closer to.

Her.

Everyone else wanted her didn’t they? King Nash, the goddesses, and the Queen Mother. Let alone every Tom, Dick, and Harry who worked for them. Why not Logan?

“You bastard.” She said calmly, though the words through his fingers were so muffled she had a hard time deciphering.

“Always with the name calling. Grow up Raven.” He whispered in a voice, though silvery on a gust of breath, perfectly conveyed his annoyance.

Raven’s eyes narrowed in the dark. “Grow up?” she hissed, yanking his hand away from her mouth. Still whispering, she continued. “I would tell you to grow a spine but obviously that isn’t necessary.”

“What the hell does that mean?” he ground out on a whisper.

“Oh come off it Logan. Stealing into my room in the middle of the night? What’s the plan? You going to tie me up, throw me on a horse, somehow get me off this island and return me to your beloved Queen?” Raven shoved him away, threw the covers off her legs and slid out of bed. Halfway to the bedroom door she stopped and turned. But the darkness was encompassing and he might as well have not been in the room.

She paused with the thought. Means he can’t see me either.

“Raven!” he whispered. Not responding, she moved closer to the door on silent feet and then, suddenly changing her mind, positioned herself in a corner that fell even darker into the gloom. It was better to contain him. Raven glanced toward the dresser where her swords rested. Stupid, she thought, aren’t you supposed to sleep with your weapons? Cursing herself for a fool, Raven crouched lower in the corner.

“I’m not here to kidnap you, woman.” He murmured, keeping his voice low but no longer whispering. Raven scoffed silently at his claim. When she remained silent, he continued, his voice louder this time. Not louder because he raised his voice, she realized, but because he was closer to the wall she was pressing herself into. “I mean it, I’m only here because Lachesis sent me.”

“Nice try Logan. Your kind are nothing but liars.” She said on a whisper, sliding her hand against the wall, angling toward the door. Raven remonstrated herself knowing she missed her opportunity to make a run for it. He was on his feet now and closing in on her. Why not Logan? She thought again, angry.

“My kind?” he asked with a muffled laugh. “What kind is that, Raven? Human?”

“Are you human?” she asked, raising her voice briefly in sarcasm.

He was quiet for a moment and she listened for the sound of his feet moving on the carpet. Suddenly she caught the sound of his breath as he drifted by her. Freezing in place, Raven held her breath, desperate to escape the dark madness that had become her life.

He surprised her by opening the bedroom door and allowing candelabra’s from the hallway to interject into the shadows of her room. His face, framed by the leaping flame, turned to her as though he had known all along where she stood. His eyes were thrown into shadow but the expression on his face infuriated her. Condescension.

“If you decide you can behave like a rational adult and not be ridiculous for ten minutes,” he whispered, “you should tip toe your way to the stable where the others are waiting.” He turned to go but paused, turning back. “Make no mistake, if you wake anyone on your way out, there will be a few women very displeased with you. And their skills with the sword far surpass yours.” With that he left, closing the door with a near-silent click.

Fifteen minutes later, Raven moved on silent feet through the garden and, pulling a cashmere wrap around her body, angled towards the stable. The stable, as the house and yard, was as silent and dark as her bedroom. It never occurred to her that Logan was telling the truth about Lachesis and, instead, decided from minute one this was a ploy to make the process of her kidnapping just a little smoother. With a tight smile, Raven acknowledged the sai swords tucked into her boots, which he would expect, and then mentally shifted acknowledgement to the blade he himself had given her that was now tucked into her waistband, which he would not expect.

The garden smells assaulted her in the late night air where nothing more than whispering trees and a cool breeze from the lake greeted her. She moved slowly towards the stable as though approaching an executioner. Raven tried to decide whether she cared about the execution.

When she approached the stable door she was unsurprised to find it unlatched and slightly ajar. Considerate, Raven thought, sneering. Patting her waist, she assured herself the weapons were handy, and hoped she had the nerve to use them if necessary. She was halfway through the door before it occurred to her that Logan might have brought other soldiers along for the event.

A small glowing hurricane sat perched on an upended crate at the opposite end of the stable.The flame, protected by four sides of glass, seemed unreal in its stillness. She’d grown used to the flicker of flame on DeSolar since she’d yet to witness even a watt of electricity. Not only grown used to it -- was comforted by it.

Around the upended crate stood the ‘others’ as Logan claimed there would be. They just weren’t the unruly murderous lot she expected. Logan leaned over Lachesis’ shoulder and pointed to something on the crate. She shook her head in negation of his comment and glanced up at Athena who murmured something that seemed to please Logan and make Lachesis frown. Between them, Nicolaus stood glancing from one face to the next as they spoke.

Though she could just barely hear the rustle of straw beneath her shoes as she moved toward them, the others glanced up in unison. Seeing her, they silently returned their attention to the crate. Coming to a spot beside Nicolaus, Raven looked to the crate. It was a map.

On Earth, maps were printed from computers, usually in 2D and almost always in color. The details of a map from home would be detailed to the point of ridiculous. The map on the crate appeared to be drawn by hand with a pencil on rough paper.

“How many of your soldiers will you bring?” Logan asked Athena. The woman sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought.

“Her seers will have already suggested to her that we are coming.” Lachesis pointed out, watching Athena’s expression. “You do not want to bring too few soldiers simply because of the extra noise they may make upon evacuating the river.”

Athena met Lachesis’ eyes. “My soldiers can move on silent feet. Ten thousand can mount up in full armor, ride through an enemy camp on jittery horses, and still no one would be the wiser.”

Boastful, Raven thought. But as she surveyed the expression on Athena’s face, very matter-of-fact, she considered it might also be the truth.

“Okay then, so how many?” Logan asked again.

Athena straightened her shoulders. “I will bring all who are at the river save a small sect who will ride to Inauntru to alert the soldiers for action. I will also secure sentries along the path for message relay. This should be more than sufficient for our plan.”

“Um, what plan?” Raven asked, finally allowing herself to join the conversation. After having been awakened in the dead of night for an illicit assignation involving two goddesses, a little boy, and one member of the enemy, she’d waited long enough to learn the plan.

The stable grew silent when she posed the question. Lachesis leaned forward and with quick fingers, swiped the map from the crate and, rolling it into a tube, shoved it in a knapsack hanging across her chest. Athena turned toward the row of stalls and made her way to a horse, before being swiftly followed by Lachesis. She looked to Logan for answers.

He smiled grimly and leaned toward her. “We’re going to war.”