Wings of Fate: The Lost Ones

Someone spotted them. As Ilita, the soldier Raven vaguely remembered from Athena’s demonstration with Logan, handed her a biscuit, an earth-shattering sound pierced the early-morning air. The forest went still. The horn sounded for a full minute before breaking off, only to begin again in an unending pattern.

Logan appeared at Raven’s side, sword unsheathed. “It’s time.”

Glancing down at the biscuit with a suddenly dry mouth, Raven forced herself to choke the food down. She’d barely eaten all day and it looked like she’d run out of time.

It had begun.

Before Raven finished the thought, Athena’s soldiers began to move. Having already witnessed only a small sampling of their skill, and been surprised by their silent-footed arrival the night before, Raven was still in awe of their silent, rapid movements now. They moved quickly, but calmly, hefting armor and shields, unsheathing swords, and pulling blades from their leather boots. Their faces were set with grim determination.

As she moved through the camp, a group no longer four-people small, Raven marveled at the soldiers. Trepidation skipped along her spine and, even in the early morning heat, goosebumps ran along her skin. People would die today, she thought, as her mind conjured unbidden images from war movies she’d seen on Earth.

Most of the faces were strangers to her but she imagined them laughing with family or friends, pictured them as children. Some of them were children. While the majority of them had lithe, toned bodies, quite a few still bore the chubbiness of youth.

Raven’s heart pounded.

She followed Logan as he wove through clusters of women whose bare skin began to sparkle as the sun crested over the hills behind them.

“How did they discover us?” she asked him.

Logan glanced toward the castle on their right, horn still blaring rhythmically. Pointing to various places around them he said, “The trees are near dead. There aren’t any leaves to provide cover. With four of us, we can blend in well enough but not that.” He said, with a look behind them where the soldiers prepared.

Raven followed his gaze. Four had become hundreds.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, bringing her attention back around. Several yards ahead, Lachesis and Nicolaus waited. When Logan slowed to look at her, Raven met his gaze. Whatever he saw in her expression made his mouth tighten before he turned away.

She didn’t need to answer, of course, it was obvious the answer was ‘no’.

“Do you have your weapons, Raven?” Lachesis asked the moment they approached.

“Do I ever take them off?” Raven countered. Her borrowed outfit was strange to her, always making it obvious how far away from home she was, but the added weight of the blades in her boots and the one tucked into her waistband practically screamed battle. She couldn’t even pretend they weren’t there. But after Clarissa…she didn’t want to take them off.

“Do you remember the plan?” Lachesis asked. Her gaze probed at Raven, as if searching for an answer to other questions, unspoken ones. It made her nervous that Lachesis was worried. She knew the goddesses didn’t know how this battle would end but it would be calming if they at least pretended confidence.

Raven’s brown top reflected in the Lachesis’ eyes as she gave her a once-over, turning the light purple eyes into a cacophony of colors.

Without waiting for a response Raven didn’t plan to give, Lachesis turned her stare to Logan. “Athena?”

“With her soldiers, prepared to move forward at your signal.” Logan pulled in a breath but then hesitated with a glance at Raven. She cocked an eyebrow. With a heavy sigh he ran a hand over his scalp and said, “So many things can go wrong. Maybe we should retreat.”

“You can’t.” Nicolaus said, looking up at Logan with bare honesty, “if you do, they will only follow you into the forest.”

“Nicolaus is right,” Lachesis added, “this is our best chance.”

“Only chance.” Nicolaus murmured, with a pointed look over his shoulder.

“She isn’t ready.” Logan said.

“She’ll be fine.” Lachesis countered, pressing her lips together as though to prevent anything else from escaping.

“If she freezes up, it would be disastrous for…all of us.” He said.

“She is right here.” Raven pointed out, sighing heavily. “Logan, it’ll be fine. This fight was meant to be. Look at me – I’m proof that I’m supposed to be here – miles away from Earth, in a place and time that didn’t exist a month ago. I was pulled through a portal, lived through a fatal plane crash, for this fight. It has to be the right thing to do. So calm the hell down.”

Logan glared at her before stomping away, muttering to himself.

“Logan?” Lachesis called. When he paused and turned to her she said, “Tell Athena – five minute countdown from now.” He jerked a nod and continued away. Turning back to Raven and Nicolaus, she said, “Let’s go.”

Bare-chested men gathered in double-row lines, shoulder-to-shoulder, along the ramparts of the castle walls. The sound of heavy boots stomping across stone in a calm rhythm from the bailey, up the narrow staircase attached to the walls, and along the ramparts themselves, echoed across a dying field of grass to reverberate off the trees surrounding Athena and her soldiers.

Sunlight glinted on the brass tips adorning the soldier’s ebony bows where they stood a full head taller than the men, resting at the ready in tight fists. There was not an open space available between the men on the wall as they stood, like a veritable human shield, before the castle. Twenty-five, twenty-six, Athena counted each man and by the time she ceased doing so she’d counted seventy-three.

She stood at the edge of the forest, waiting behind one of the smaller red oak trees, with just the smallest bit of her view blocked by the bark. Though her eyes focused on the castle activity, she was distracted every few moments by the busy activity of dark ants crawling in line up and down the tree near her face.

Ants moving to the ground carried small bits of trash while those crawling up carried nothing at all. Moving, Athena thought, and hurriedly too. Perhaps they knew the forest wilted, soon to become a massive stretch of wretched death, unable to provide for, or sustain, life. Or perhaps they hurried to escape the coming battle. At any rate, their activity perfectly mirrored that of the castle where soldiers rushed to prepare to defend their home.

The archers on the wall were only a nuisance, although an expected one, to her army. Her soldiers were trained in archery – every woman and girl – and would find it child’s play to pick the men off one at a time. If one of her own fell…well, someone would pick up the bow and take over.

No, the problem wasn’t the archers; it was the steady file of soldiers marching through the back gate. The Queen Mother had sent for reinforcements – hundreds of them. Lachesis needed the battle kept out front of the main gate; she needed the attention to be riveted there. Attacking the arriving soldiers, while doing much to decimate the opponents, would destroy Lachesis’ chances of getting inside the walls.

Ilita interrupted her thoughts. “The Queen Mother watches.” She murmured.

Without betraying their interest, should the Queen Mother possess a spyglass, Athena raised only her eyes to the narrow slits in the tower. The sun gradually rose above the North horizon, allowing light to dance across the gray stone castle. Here and there it sparkled against the crystal deposits embedded in the stone, bringing gaiety and life to an otherwise ominous scene as though unaware blood would be shed this day. Standing within the frame of one of the dozens of stone-carved windows was a woman wearing a flowing white garment, which shone under the natural light and fluttered carelessly on a breeze unfelt in the forest.

White, thought Athena, was an interesting choice. The color of peace and surrender. Neither of which conveyed anything true about the woman wearing it.

With a glance toward the hard dirt beneath her boots, Athena called Bernice to her side. Bernice had been at Ono de Athens for a dozen years, having arrived one morning in the heart of a blizzard, a naked and near-starved-to-death five year-old, on the back of a gray gelding she had no memory of stealing. In fact, the child could remember nothing at all and it was the girls in her dorm who named her – after a fallen angel, they’d said, snickering.

After several weeks of wide-eyed, fearful, and mute reactions to every single person at Ono de Athens, Bernice had shuddered into responsiveness with an almost celebrity awe of Athena. Barely more than a toddler, she’d begun to walk and move like Athena. She dressed like her, grew her hair out in the same riotous curls – indeed her hair was nearly the same color, so much so that eventually people automatically assumed they were of blood-relation.

Over the years, Athena herself had come to think of the girl in much the same way and had gone to great lengths to both train her harder than any other student and to ensure she never entered into risky positions requiring those skills.

It had not escaped her notice that Bernice loved her as a mother, respected her as a leader, and was enraged and bitter about being held back.

Long-trained to not give visual deference to Athena in front of murderous enemies, Bernice approached in an outfit identical to Athena’s with similar weapons hanging at her hips, and green eyes lowered. “Captain?” she whispered with barely moving lips.

“Please go and inform Lachesis the target is in the tower.”

Without a word of assent, Bernice moved away to fulfill the order.

“Think she will remain in that position?” Ilita asked. Thick strands of gray hair fell across her shoulder as the girl tilted her head to the side in curiosity of the Queen Mother’s behavior. Tipless-gloved fingers rested lightly on the hilt of her sword in a rarely-seen display of patience.

“It would be better for us if she does.” Athena murmured, returning her attention to the line of returning men. Something nagged at her, picking at the edges of her powers but when she focused on it with narrowed eyes, the feeling evaporated. With a sigh she said, “Besides, the Queen Mother likes to watch.”

“Well then, we better give her a show.” Ilita mused, grinning. The grin caught Athena off-guard.

“Excited?” she asked, masking her frown.

Ilita’s unnaturally long eyelashes did nothing to disguise the surprise in her eyes when she turned to Athena. “Excited? Why would I be anything but? This is what we’ve trained for.” She turned her back on the castle to run her eyes over the soldiers standing ready in the forest. “We’ve spent our whole lives preparing for this fight, Athena, of course we’re energized to have it finally be done.”

Athena let her gaze skim along the familiar faces, allowing Ilita’s misconception to go unremarked, but the comment concerned her. Did they believe they could go home after this day? Athena looked at the side of Ilita’s face, cherishing this little gray-haired friend more than most anyone else, and tried to judge the girl’s imminent reaction to a massive change in plans.

Too many secrets, Athena thought, shifting her weight. As she moved, Athena caught sight of Bernice returning with Logan in tow. Or rather, returning on Logan’s heels as he stalked towards them.

Athena frowned. “Lachesis?” she asked Bernice, meeting the girl’s eyes.

“Already gone.” She answered with a shake of her head.

“She says five minutes, that was a minute ago.” Though Logan spoke quietly, the message spread quickly through the ranks and in under two minutes, the lines were ready.

Athena tried not to think about the delay of the remainder of her army.

“My word, can they not stop with the horn already? I know I’m fairly special and, generally speaking, my arrival is usually heralded but not to this extent. This is ridiculous.”

Bael turned his head to the side so Ares wouldn’t catch the roll of his eyes but when he turned to look back at his fellow captive, the man grinned knowingly. Shaking his head in mock despair at Ares’ lack of modesty or shame, Bael turned again to the front, where the sound of their arrival was being announced, apparently, to everyone on DeSolar.

The horn blew intermittently with long notes followed by what had to be a desperate breath. The sound echoed across the land. Bael wondered if the sound reached as far as the Nefarian ocean. Despite Ares’ claims of popularity, there was no real reason for such a heralding.

The march to the Queen Mother’s castle had gone on for hours – days even – nearly without stop. Ares wasn’t actually allowed to speak to him but the soldiers’ behavior over the last few days suggested a relative fear of Ares so the backhanded slaps never made contact with Ares’ head. Still, the reprisal wasn’t held back when it came to Austin so Ares had kept quiet. Mostly.

They were given no information other than that the Queen Mother demanded their presence. The soldiers hadn’t bothered with food but offered one small jug of water each day to share. Nor were they given blankets to ward off biting bugs that seemed attracted to Austin. Clearly the soldiers believed the three prisoners were being marched to their death.

As if following Bael’s thoughts, Ares stiffened beside him. The man narrowed his eyes at some invisible target somewhere left of their march through the forest. Away from the castle.

“What is it?” Bael asked. When Ares continued marching, all his senses and attention attuned to something Bael couldn’t see, he nudged him. “Ares – what is it man?”

Ares shook his head like someone waking from a dream. He met Bael’s questioning gaze