Celia brushed a loose strand of hair from Massia's messy hair. She was stirring now in her sleep, and a little color had come back to her cheeks. Whenever she checks her eyes, the paleness that had startled her once had gone, and her crystal blue eyes had returned, though a little paler than she remembers. She hopes they could return to their former brilliance. They know little of this process of creating the Makhai. Never before have they ever stopped it before the effects settled in. Hollow, black eyes, deathly fair skin, and a lack of emotion. She thanks everyone for rescuing Massia in time. She could have lost her forever, no way to get her back once it was complete. And her resolve had somehow softened with this knowledge. She had gotten her daughter back, and now they were on the rocky trail of Arkouda headed to the plains of Aetos, then Liontari, where they will travel through the forest once more to enter Silondras. There, they will be safe. Hopefully, they may take a small breath of relief from the tribulations that plagued their feet all their way here. She was protected by two knights as well.
"How are you two?" Elena asked from the coach, next to Gray. They stopped by a knight's quarter to get better armor for the two. Elena looked well worn for the armor. She thought it best to stay out there with Gray, keeping an extra pair of eyes on the road in case something comes for them. "It's been quiet for the past few days."
"All the better," she said. "If fate has it, we'll be attacked simply for tempting him."
"Well, we are going to be out of these Rockies in a few, might want to stop to find some good shelter before then," Gray called from out of view, followed by the whipping of the horses. "You know, this place is a hotbed for iron ore. You can see it on the rocks. Perhaps I shall tell my father."
"Is your blacksmithing any help in finding a cave for us?" Elena questioned.
"You know, I kind of miss Lyse for some odd reason," he grumbled, then gestured with his whip over to the right, through some thickets of trees. "Saw some foxes scuttle their way around that rock. Maybe a cave, maybe not."
Elena frowned but indeed hopped off the cart and ran after where Gray had pointed. Her focused nature reminded her a lot of Lyse. She seemed like a reasonable and honest person. If she met her in the army when they were younger, they could have become good friends, perhaps. Though she thought she bends a little too easy to suggestions. She wonders how Lyse even convinced these two people to come along on this journey. While they are no longer skeptical of the stakes presented, it is evident within the few times they conversate before her that there was an obvious hesitation in the way they act. They were out of their element, something to be expected. But more than that, Lyse seems to trust them more than they do him, and that concerns him to an extent.
She hopes Makyra can watch over Edlund and Lyse. Lyse was a bright boy, far more intelligent and wise than he ought to be. But he can be brash; he can run into things without taking the time to think. Going on this journey in the first place was something she would have bruised his knuckles over. And Edlund followed whatever Lyse's does, no matter how reluctant he may seem. Hopefully, Makyra being the cautious type, will remind them not to run into the fire. Or, Lyse will not consult her, and she spends the time running after him to protect him. But what kept her mind running was that she could still sense the pendant. She had a little peace of mind, knowing where he was. She could run straight to him with no confusion whatsoever. But even so, the buzz she felt at the core of her thoughts was an uncomfortable knowledge.
Elena slowly approached the opening of the cave, where Gray saw a few foxes climb inside. She didn't draw her sword; it was unnecessary when dealing with such a timid beast. That steel is meant for monstrous flesh. But she still kept an eye out. Arkoudan hills are well known for having creatures pounce upon you from the tall trees or the mountainside. From giant scorpions to giants to man-eating horses. Caves are a favored resident for these kinds of creatures when they are not out hunting. The cave was quite large, larger than she anticipated, the rough circular layout tunneling through the pact ground, the entrance alone would be three or four men high and twenty across. She slowly walked in, paying no heed to the timid foxes that ran around her in a wide arch and scatter into the forests. She could sense nothing else nearby, nor could she determine whether or not it was used by a monster recently. It was fairly bare, with no signs of a kill or discarded carcass. The tracks were hard to determine from how tight and pact the ground was; she could barely see the tracks the foxes left behind. It was not the most ideal shelter, but it should serve them well enough if they are diligent.
The foggy abyss was before them, growing in size as the sun wavered towards the horizon. Small pelts of water fell from above its the night was obscured by a thick veil of clouds. She called them forth to settle for the night as she cleared a path from the road to the cave using her sword, now shaped more like a saber. Gray was grateful to find something over his head as the rain was beginning to grow heavier. Though, he often seemed pleased to be around water. The cart fits well enough in the cave, and Celia had the wonderful idea of moving a tree in the way so that if something came, it would think its cave had been compromised. She lifted her hands towards one of the shorter ones, but as soon as she did so, veins of green light crawled up her arms once more, and she winced in pain. Elena stopped her, gently pulling her arms away.
"Mrs. Opal," she said. "I believe that Makyra had warned that using your powers will be a danger for you now. You can barely dress, much less perform these feats."
"I know," she said in frustration. "I just wanted . . . to see, I guess."
"Well, you can at least leave the heavy loading to us," Gray unsheathed his saber and moved towards the tree she gestured to. The water hitting the inscribed runes made them light up in a soft sea green light. "That's why we are here, no?"
"Fine, she said, returning to the cave while Gray took up his sword. As aura was poured into it, he swung with all his might. Like a knife through the air, the blade sliced the tree at an odd angle, allowing it to tumble and fall against the cave with a loud crash, throwing stray branches and leaves about in the rain. Elena took the time to make a small fire and prepare the rations they had to be cooked. Celia briefly checked on Massia, who now laid in the carriage's seats. Elena could see a lot of Celia in Massia. Lyse may have inherited their lightly colored hair and eyes, but it was clear that Lyse may take more from his father than his mother in other areas. Celia gave her a small kiss on the forehead before returning to sit on the fire, pulling her knees beneath herself.
"You have a beautiful daughter," Elena said to her.
"Thank you," Celia said.
"If I may ask, if I'm at all intrusive, but what was it like raising the three of them?" Elena stirred the fire with stray sticks she found around the cave.
"Is motherly livelihood of interest of you?" Celia raised a brow.
"Not really," she admitted. "I ask more on what Lyse's relationship to his sister was growing up."
Celia sighed lightly. "I guess to pass the time. They were curious cats, as you can imagine. Lyse was the sharpest tack in the shed, and Edlund followed his lead most often, though when it came to mischief, Edlund always finds himself the culprit. But those two are practically inseparable. They are brothers, after all. So when Massia came to the age, she too began to follow around Lyse, though in a more taciturn approach."
"He is quite impressionable," Elena said. "I have older sisters, but instead of politics, I took up the sword and shield. I don't do well following someone else's path, I must say."
"Well, Lyse can surely bring you to his way of thinking quite quickly," Celia said. "I do not blame you coming all this way simply to help us. Just like his father, he has a good sense of justice."
"Lyse. . . does not talk about his father as often."
Celia stayed a little quiet for a few moments. "I will not pretend to understand my son to his fullest. His relationship with his father has always puzzled me. A balance of admiration and confusion. He is a smart lad; no doubt he questions why his father insisted on staying in the quiet life of a farmer despite his ability he so poorly hides."
Gray stumbled in under the tree. He did a well enough job hiding the entrance with loose brush and other foliage. One would think that a stray storm had come across and ravaged the forest a bit. Though, in the process, he was now soaked head to toe in rainwater. He sheathed his saber at his side and unbuckled his belt to sit on the cave floor, throwing his cloak off to dry off.
"Sitting on that damned coach really makes your ass sore, you know," he groaned. "So, you two were talking about something?"
"More about Lyse when he was little," Elena told him. "Just to pass the time."
He shrugged, taking out some pots and vegetables to prepare some food. "To be honest, I'd rather know a bit more on this god stuff. If we're going to be involved, might as well learn a thing or two before I die."
"The knowledge of the gods must not be taken lightly," Celia warned him.
"Well, how about we start at who these Talin folks are and why they seem so keen on slaughtering all of us."
"I'm sure you can guess," Celia whispered, turning towards the dancing fire. She rubbed her arms. "They are enemies of man, people obsessed with obtaining power, and little more. Be that riches, immortality, inhuman strength; the reasons are all rooted in desires."
"And this Umerius," Elena said. "You and Lyse mentioned that before, yeah?"
"He's their leader," she said. "We thought we killed him during the clans' civil war, but obviously, we are mistaken. Either he is still alive, puppeteering all of this, or someone else has taken his place."
"And if it's the latter?" Gray prompted.
"Then we are facing an enemy we know little of. We can assume a similar motive. But by how secondary they have treated capturing and eliminating the next generation of godslayers, I would say they have somewhat shifted their agenda away from procuring powerful artifacts."
"Any idea where that shift landed on then?" Gray asked.
Celia looked thoughtfully towards the fire once more, her blue eyes reflecting off the dull orange flame. From everything they can infer, what Talin wants is not one of them. There are a few suggestions that both Lyse and she agree on. They are looking for something more important than any simple artifact. Or they are preparing for some catastrophic event that will leave them in power. Or simply world domination. The only disruption they manage to have caused so far is in rescuing her daughter. But even that, as grateful as she felt in the moment, left her pondering just how insignificant they must be.
"Anyway," Gray moved on, pouring some stew into his pot and allowing it to boil. "So. . . your sister is the queen of Hath."
Elena's elbow checked him almost immediately, making him spill some of the boiling water onto himself. "Forgive him, lady Celia. He should know not to delve into such touchy subjects."
"No, no, it is okay," she raised a dismissive hand, leaning back against the cave walls. "But I would much rather learn more about the two of you."
Gray murmured as he poured more water into the pot. "You're kidding, right? I mean, I don't know about Elena, but I'm just a filthy little weapons-smith. I'm fortunate that I was able to become a knight."
"And how did that happened?" she asked curiously.
Gray looked down at his pot, actually seeming a little embarrassed as he stoked the flames a bit. "Well, Elena was the one who prompted me to go for the training. Being around blades gave me a lot of practice. My dad gave me this sword to pass. And well. . ."
He seemed hesitant to continue. "Well, I lost the duel. But they thought I did decent enough to continue formal training."
"What's wrong with that? It's pretty common for younger knights to lose in the initiation tests," Celia told him.
"No, but I totally blew it," Gray went on. "This sword is amazing. Saved my life and yours. My dad said it's his greatest work. But never amounted to it. I feel like a toddler even wielding this thing. Probably would have cut off my off head if I wasn't so lucky."
"You were fine," she said, lifting a tuft of hair to reveal the faint scar. "You did good enough, and it takes a lot to make it where we are now."
He sighed. "Either way, I got in through that. They took an interest in my sword and it's power I guess. Even got to train under the same instructors as Elena through request, and here I am. Stuck in the wilderness cooking poor carrot and potato stews."
"You've gotten farther than most," Celia said. "Thqt sword didn't make you a warrior. Others wish they had your courage."
"Oh, please point them out to me. I'd love to stick them here while I can go home," he sighed once more. "I'm lucky, and I'm smart enough to know that. And seeing Elena, Lyse, hell even Edlund, it only makes the mountain that much bigger it seems."
"Oh, come off it now, Gray. Do you think any of us could have fended off a dragon the way you did?" Elena asked.
"Maybe," he said. "Might not even get sick. Wanna trade blades?"
"It is not hers to take," Celia told him. "That blade is reflective of only its wielder. It does not make the knight; you should know that as a weaponsmith son."
"I don't know about that, Ms. Opal. I've seen some pretty crazy things come through," he said. "There was this awesome blade my father made. Some lord came back from Shi'Ased, and you know they have mountains of precious metals to enchant and things. So they got this super rare stone called peridot. Legend has it that it came from the sky and has some unique qualities to it. The guy asked my father to craft a blade from it and see what had happened. Now, smithers shouldn't work on something if they don't know what it does, but my father and I were pretty bold and decided to make something. We used some of it in a powder to sprinkle into a blade, cast it into the pommel with a Nemean blade, and even made a spear. The amazing thing was that when used by someone who could use avra, it can be used to levitate anything it points at so . . ."
He lifted his head and flushed a bit more, chuckling a bit. He was so enthralled in his memory that he rambled the story on. "Sorry."
"Don't be," Celia said. "Your passion is admirable."
"But you get the point," Gray said, pouring some of the stew into a small bowl along with a roll of bread to hand to Celia. "It doesn't take a whole lot to get to where I am. A fancy blade and half the wit of a turtle gets you but places you know."
"Well, you are not wrong, I guess I could say," Celia said. "It's true that anything one man can do is replicable by any other. But you must be proud of yourself because it was you who had done so. Otherwise, what use was those times you swung around dull blades in your father's shop, tempering them and knowing the value of the blade far more than any mere soldier."
"Pride?" he frowned. "I've never been proud of anything."
"Well, I'm proud of you," Elena settled a hand on his shoulder. "Your father. If your mother were here, she too would be proud of you."
That mention of his late mother seemed to press a fist to his gut. He lowed the spoon that would have poured his own bowl. "Is that right?"
"If I were your mother, I would be the proudest of them all," she told him. "I'm proud of my sons, and I gave them guidance and enhanced their talents. You, you almost created this life for yourself all on your own. I would curse any man who would not see this admirable."
Gray looked at his bowl, the few stray pieces of potatoes that rose to the top, steaming against the damp air. He handed it over to Elena. "Thank you, Ms. Opal, for saying that. You too, Elena."
"Thank you for taking a few years to realize that I am proud of you," Elena said. "Not because I helped you, not because I am your friend, but because you are dedicated. Lyse trusts you, Gray."
"To be fair, he is pretty trusting," he said, pouring the last of the stew into his own bowl.
"He chose you because your observant, and you question him," he said. "He trusts you, our judgment because we made it this far, and given the opportunity, we may do it again. We faced off Nemean lions and manticores, undead warriors, and a dragon. And you'll still here making stew morning too the world."
"I make stew because none of you know how to cook for yourselves apparently, and I won't put the cooking into Ms. Celia's shaking hands."
"So you do it because you can."
"Yes. . . no," he sputtered. "Well. This is dumb. I'm going to shut up and eat stew now."
Celia chuckled to herself, helping herself as well. "We are all here for something, someone. As long as you know that, I'm comfortable putting my life in your hands for now."
"As you say, your majesty," Gray told her with a long sigh.
"Do you need help feeding Massia, Ms. Opal?" Elena said.
Celia tried to hide her shaking hands, but her bowl's contents did leak content every now and again as she raised the spoon to her lips. She was getting a little bit better, but not by much. She hopes this condition isn't permanent, and she can't imagine the rest of her life in pain doing the most mundane of things, having to be aided by servants and caretakers. Even using aura was troubling. Celia dejectedly nodded and moved to the carriage with Elena helping her inside. Massia was still in this sleep, occasionally stirring. She would drink and eat whatever they gave her, almost robotically rather than with need and never opening her eyes. They leaned her against the seat. She was dangerously light, and Elena easily maneuvered her head. Celia stroked her stray hair aside. Massia's sleeping state reminded her so much of older times. Much safer times. Memories of feeding Massia her first cakes, letting Lyse walk her around when she first learned to walk. That time she ate an ant and got sick. They were all comforting thoughts. And the thought of returning to it nearly brought tears to dry eyes. But they may never return. They will never have comfort again; they will never feel safe after what had occurred and the future that awaits them. All they can do now is try to survive as best they can.
Elena raised the bowl to Massia's lips, and as if by instinct, she leaned forward with parted lips. But when they were going to pour in the warm liquid, her lips curled into a smile, and her eyes half-opened I a deathly stare at the bowl.
"Kill them all," she whispered ghastly, barely audible. But they both froze as Massia leaned forward ever so slightly to whisper a little louder: "Every last one."