Page 21 of Fate

Huffing, Andra leans in to support me as we walk through the camp and over to my gear that’s stashed close to the officer section. Off in a group, Olena watches our procession with keen eyes. Setting me down, Andra sits alongside me, a drawn-out sigh accompanying her descent. Silence settles, the banging in my head easing to a dull throb. Andra’s fuming radiates off her in waves.

“We were intimate, you know. Did she tell you that?”

My eye brows shoot up, though after a moment, it makes sense. The immense loyalty, the protectiveness, borderline obsession in some cases. I wonder why Helia never mentioned it?

I shake my head in reply, not trusting my headache or words.

“I see. Well, it’s important you know, now that you two are getting close. She gave me purpose and I loved her for it; I still do. Vengeance was what I needed. What I thought I needed anyway.” Sadness tugs at her eyes, the softest I’ve ever seen her. “I gave her worship. Idolized her.” Silence. I wait.

“But she needs better than that; better than me.”

“Do you hate me, Andra?”

Her brow furrows, inner demons fighting for dominance, before resignation pinches her eyes closed. “No, but I was jealous. Okay, maybe I still am a little bit.” Her eyes open and lock with mine. “It wasn't right to treat you as I have been.”

I never expected to hear that. She stands as I fumble for words. “I-I don't know what to say.”

Andra waves a tanned hand, stemming any further words. She walks off, presumably to finish that lecture to Helia.

The camp scurries to unpack the wagons from the city as idle chatter speculates on our next move. North past the mountains; lots of gold to be made there. No, we’re heading back to the southern forests to check for more bandits. The group that attacked in Nolphi couldn’t be the only ones.

“They’ll never guess returning to Hecalon.” I jerk before recognizing the voice. Helia sets her chiseled frame gently down beside me placing a wrapped staff of some sort between us. Plucking a wine skin from her belt, Helia uncorks it, takes a swig and passes it over to me. I grab it but give her a look; I’m not exactly eager to repeat the afternoon. The dull ache at my temples is a not-so gentle reminder.

“Trust me, drinking a little right now will help. Just don’t overdo it,” she says with a wink. I nod and take a small swig. The familiar flavor of the wine coats my tongue once more, as Helia gestures out toward the camp.

“They see the road as home, not the capital.” I suppose I understand that. Athos was technically home but it has quickly been replaced in the past months. Not that it was anything to hold onto; now or before it was reduced to rubble.

“What about you Helia? Where is your home?”

She reaches over, her hand coming brushes my knee briefly before picking up the bundle she had brought. Hefting it thoughtfully, Helia looks over to me. “I haven’t found my home, yet.” She hands the haft of the bundle to me with a warm smile. “I’m sure I’ll find it. Maybe sooner than later.”

I take it in hand, urgently trying to ignore the undercurrent of her words. Unsure what to expect, I unwrap the gift. A simple, yet sturdy spear rolls neatly from under the coarse fabric. My breath catches when I notice a copy of my mark etched onto the wide spearhead. I take it in hand and immediately, it feels right. I look up at her, eyes wider than the moon. Helia runs a hand through her raven hair sheepishly.

“I know you struggle with wielding a sword and Bellius has been praising your spear handling. I asked him to find a smith with a quality spear and have them do an etching.”

I look back to the elegant weapon in my hands, shaking my head slightly. The quality of the spear and the etching must have cost a fortune.

“You didn’t need to do this.” I quickly raise my free hand to forestall any reply. “I’m not ungrateful! But I don’t need anything special. I don’t want you to treat me differently. I certainly don’t deserve something like this.”

A calloused but gentle hand grips my chin and firmly turns my head. Words die in my throat, threads of self-deprecation dead in their tracks.

“You are different, Skion.” Helia slightly rubs her thumb across the tip of my chin, and I struggle to squash the embarrassing noise rising inside. “Needing something different, or being different, is nothing to be afraid or ashamed of. And never say you don’t deserve something in front of me again.” My thoughts rush back to the afternoon, to watching Davra alongside this gentle giant, to wanting to be her, wanting Helia's eyes on me instead of Davra.

The sudden loss of Helia's hand on my chin snaps me back to reality, yet the loss does nothing to dim the flush rushing through my body. The glint of hunger in Helia's eyes stokes that flame, but I see something else there too; something I can't put my finger on.

“Skion, let me know what you need as you...” Helia pauses, searching for the right words. “...discover more about yourself. We can go as slow or fast as you want.”

I nod before reaching for the wine skin, taking a healthy draw. Mid-gulp, Helia muses aloud. “I should have asked Davra about that dress before we left; you would look good in blue.” I choke on the wine, burning my nose, coughing uncontrollably. With a husky laugh, Helia reaches back to her belt and flips a dagger over in her hand, offering the hilt to me.

“You'll want this as well. Spears can get hard to manage in close combat.” Still coughing, I take the dagger, trying desperately, and failing, to avoid the mental image of wearing that dress for Helia, smoldering green eyes etching a trail along my body…I need to focus.

The dagger is a decent length, not quite a short sword yet not a belt knife either. The straight blade has a slightly curved indention on both sides toward the hilt, widening toward the end.

“Starting tomorrow, Andra will focus on teaching you the dagger and continue your conditioning. Bellius will stick to basic strategies and the spear. As for me, we’ll do basic combat training until you can wield your powers. At that point, we’ll make things more interesting. And besides all that”—Helia flashes me an unabashed look as she continues—“we’ll have the time to get to know each other better.”

I nod mutely, overwhelmed from the day. Helia gamely slaps my back before standing upright, falling back into her role as commander.

“SPEARS!” she bellows across the camp. Chatter dies downs as Helia walks out from the officer’s area into the center with me in tow, spear cradled awkwardly against my chest. The cohort assembles roughly, wine skins in most hands, eager to celebrate.