She wondered, not for the first time, if he knew they were connected to the Blood Warrior line.
Of all the stories he would tell her, those ones had been her favorite as a child. The best ones were of Hamia. She had been the first Warrior, made from Maniodes’s own blood, and was the strongest of them all. Some of the rumors even claimed she could move other people’s blood somehow. People revered and loved her. She stood for peace and stability after the first god’s war.
When Phaos made the first humans, well before Maniodes made the Warriors, he gave them the knowledge of Skiachora, and what would happen to them after death in the underworld. Skiachora wasn’t the most pleasant outcome, just being a huge cavern filled with shades of the dead, but they were calm down there.
He hoped that if people knew that things ended up all right and peaceful, granted fairly bleak what with those shades unable to do anything but wander that huge cavern, they would lead decent lives. Not having to worry about the fearful unknown.
Things did not work out as he intended. People hated knowing what awaited them, and several fell into a horrible depression. No one wanted that fate, so Phaos decided to help them once again. He asked Nyx and Maniodes for a different fate for his humans, a better one, but Nyx wouldn’t grant it, so he waged an entire war on them. Phaos lost but Nyx did grant his new request that his humans at least didn’t know their fate in Skiachora.
Father never shared that story too much; he always seemed to get bored when it came up.
Everything had been good for the Blood Warriors for centuries after that war. The entire family was worshiped. Over time, though, things changed. They always did.
The latest Blood Warrior was Jaysen The Failed Conqueror. He had tried to unite the cities under one empire, threatening everyone with his power and “godliness.” His blood power had thinned so much by that point that he couldn’t even harden it. He could only draw a thin string that hovered a few feet from him.
Pen had no idea how she was related to him, but she wouldn’t be surprised if it was through some bastard child or distant uncle. There could have been a brother or sister who didn’t have the active power, so they branched off to make their own family. Their descendants would still have had the ability inside them, and if those generations had just lasted longer, it would have been activated in one of them.
The Failed Conqueror couldn’t have children, even though he tried plenty of times with several women. So, the power could be awakened in someone related to him.
Pen hated stories about The Failed Conqueror, along with those about his mother. She killed her husband so Jaysen could gain the power. Their treachery is all people remembered when they saw Pen as the new Blood Warrior. Most of the time anyway. The acceptance at the amphitheater did surprise her.
Pen pulled the makeshift bandage off her hand. The cut from dropping the sword in the arena was long but luckily not too deep. The wide gash on her palm had started to crust over. She broke it just by shifting the fresh blood underneath.
It only took a single thought as she made the blood rise and form various shapes and just watched it weave in and out of itself.
Part of her hated it. This magic that killed her family, her little boy. She also hated how much she enjoyed using it. It proved that she was connected to the myths she loved. It was an odd mix of feelings, but these powers were uniquely hers.
Arch would have loved it. He wasn’t one for storytelling, but he always sat back when Pen told Alard about them. Arch preferred to focus on the task at hand, but he would have seen so many practical uses for this magic.
Helping Stymphalia would be one of those practical uses. Tellus would have agreed too. Guilt took hold as she stood and rewrapped her hand, making her grunt in pain. They were all dead because of her.
There was a small, new idea as well. The absurd thought that she could repair the Blood Warrior’s name. Some people did seem to appreciate her presence. The fighter with the pendant of Maniodes proved that.
Her father, as the mercenary and nomad, always avoided citywide jobs. He wouldn’t approve of helping Stymphalia from its own crime, but he would support her if he knew about the blood magic.
One more thought crept into her head then. Everyone referred to her as the Daughter of Maniodes, which wasn’t wrong, but it was a symbolic name. In stories of The Failed Conqueror, his power was weak and thin, yet her own was as powerful as Hamia’s. Her father never spoke of his past, or his family, no matter how much she asked him. Eventually, she had stopped asking. He was hiding something. He had even told her how to seal away a god, which no one else knew apparently, so how did he?
Pen quickly whipped the floating blood down with a cloth, not that she touched anything with it this time. It was just a new habit she picked up to avoid getting sick from dirt in her blood. She made her way back to the Ragged Wolves’ hideout, still thinking about who her father might really have been.
Chapter Four
Raisa
“I’m guessing your friend is not going to be happy about this,” Palamedes said as Raisa took the seat across from him. “Drink?”
“Gods, yes!” Raisa took the offered tankard and quickly drained half of it.
Running between each Kression gate was exhausting. The guards there obviously didn’t know her, but throwing around the king’s name enough before hurrying off didn’t provide much room for questions. If she could catch Pen, prevent her from leaving the city, then all of those months wouldn’t be in vain.
“So, what’s so important about this person anyway?” Palamedes asked.
“I can’t just let her vanish.”
“Okay, but who is she?”
The ale had gone to her head quickly with no food in her stomach. Granted, the pent up frustration didn’t help. “The new Blood Warrior,” Raisa gave, instantly regretting it.
“I’m sorry, what?” Palamedes scoffed.
Raisa sighed. “Didn’t you hear about her spectacle at the games?”
“Why are you looking for her? Shouldn’t she be going from city to city keeping the peace?” His eyes widened. “Has she been doing that in secret all this time? Quietly protecting us from some dark entity?”
“I didn’t take you for a religious man,” Raisa said surprised, “believing in myths and monsters.”
He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I’ve visited the temple of Phaos now and then. So, why are you tracking her?”
Raisa considered staying quiet about the whole thing. He wouldn’t question her, not directly anyway, since she is leader of the Ragged Wolves, but she hated running things that way. That was what Arus tried to do, to take advantage of her position for his own gain.
She wanted to tell Palamedes everything, but she had also tried so hard to keep the Wolves out of anything political.
“I can’t explain everything,” she started, “but a friend of mine, someone fairly high on the food chain, needs her help. So, she asked me to find Pen.”
Palamedes’s eyes narrowed at her, but he nodded. Raisa sighed, glad to have that trust.
“There’s been a request taken out on a dirty guardsman. Julae should have that handled, but the rest of us can go out looking for the Warrior. Maybe lead her into an alley so you can catch her again?”
Raisa shook her head. “No ambush. She’ll see it as an act of violence, and she’s good at fighting her way out. It’s best if she comes willingly.”
“Right, but leading her into an encounter just to talk? It’s worth a shot. I’m not sure how to send her a message or anything. Wait, can she hear people’s prayers and commune with them that way?”
“She’s just human,” Raisa said. “So, I don’t think she can hear people’s thoughts. At least, she never let on that she could.”
“That would be unnerving,” he said.
After a moment with no other ideas Raisa said, “The ambush might be our only option, but we can’t frighten her into a fight. Besides, with any luck, the city guards will catch her, the
n we break her out.”
Raisa downed the rest of the ale and took a sausage from the communal plate that was left out.
“I’m going to the roof,” she said. “You can tell the others who Pen is. If they have any questions, send them to me.”
“Got it.”
The night was warm, and Raisa could hear the revelry from several taverns and nearby houses once she was on the roof. Everyone was probably still talking about the games. The flat roof of their hideout provided a nice view of the city and Amphitheater of Leander in the distance. The king’s palace was on its own plateau just east of it. Flickering lights were everywhere.
Raisa paced along the roof: ignoring the wooden folding chair they kept up here.
Palamedes had known, at least speculated, that she had gotten involved in something too big. While it was her own personal mission, it was nearly impossible not to involve the Wolves.
Queen Aethra needed her help, and Raisa couldn’t help but feel like she owed her.
Raisa remembered that night clearly as Arus climbed into the queen’s balcony and slipped into her bedchamber. Raisa had just made it in time to protect the queen from him.
Arus always preferred grand scale assassinations. Kills that would record his name for the ages.
When they met, Raisa had loved his ambition, but she didn’t see how dangerous it was for a long time. He would undermine her, always behind her back, trying to turn the other Wolves against her.
She had been lucky, though, and grateful now that several of the Wolves came to her in confidence. They told her how Arus was, but she refused to believe them right away. He was ambitious and cunning, but she couldn’t understand how he could undermine her. They shared a bed; of course, he cared for and trusted her, she thought.
When she received a request on the High Merchant’s life in Potamis, she refused it. He wasn’t exactly a king in name, but he was high enough. Arus had been furious.
He called her a fool, and worse, for casting aside an opportunity to practically drown in riches. The ambition was still there, but all charm had vanished.
The betrayal came to a head when he shouted that she was never a good leader for the Wolves to begin with, and that he should take over. She screamed at him to get out, and he did without a single glance back, fuming with rage.
She never confessed aloud how much that hurt.
They had been a team, lovers, for a few years, and he just left the moment she really saw him.
The Ragged Wolves became her primary focus after all that. They were her new foundation. They had been right about Arus, and they still saw her as their leader.
It took her a long time to learn to move on without him.
They all heard weeks later that the High Merchant was murdered, but they agreed to stay out of it. Royalty was too dangerous, and if Arus wanted that, then let him pursue it alone. Still, Raisa hoped that ambition wouldn’t get him killed.
Of course, it did.
Once she had captured him in the queen’s chamber, waking the queen in the process, he was taken to the dungeon. The dying King Aegeus was not merciful, for good reason, and sentenced Arus to be hanged at first light.
She still wasn’t sure how to feel when she visited him in that cell.
“Raisa,” he sighed as she closed the heavy cell door behind her. He lounged on the wooden bench as if he always slept there. “That armor really doesn’t suit you.”
She wore a Stymphalian guard uniform that they’d stashed in the local hideout. After that, it was easy enough getting a key.
She took off the helmet glaring at him. The face of the helm was open, but she only needed it to hide her scarred cheek, knowing it would identify her.
“Just as beautiful as ever,” he said smiling and sitting up.
“Cut the crap,” she barked. “What the fuck were you thinking going after the queen? She’s pregnant, for Emera’s sake!”
“I would have been fine,” he shrugged, “if you didn’t intervene. I thought the Wolves didn’t get involved with royalty.”
“We don’t—”
“You did by saving her.”
“I only did because I knew you were the one hired, and I was trying to prevent this from happening,” she said gesturing to the cell around them. “They’re going to execute you, and it’s probably not going to work! You’re going to be a conscious disembodied head until this damn Undying Curse is dealt with. They’ll realize the hanging won’t work!”
She hated how she almost cracked just then. She held her composure, but it was close. He had been awful to her, but she didn’t want that fate for him.
“You could let me out?” he said, perfectly calm.
“No.”
His calm slipped. “No?”
“You went after a pregnant woman,” she said again, “and given this curse we all have, who knows what that would have done to the baby.”
“What Undying Curse?”
“You really haven’t noticed people aren’t dying?” she accused, astonished.
“A few seemed resilient lately,” he said shrugging. “I’ve just ended up taking their head. That did the trick. Besides, if people can’t die, then I’m fine.”
“They’ll take your head too. I’ve seen severed heads still blinking at me.”
“Then don’t let the same happen to me,” he said standing.
The chains on his wrists rattled. A small length of it connected him to the wall.
“I can’t,” Raisa sighed. “I actually like Queen Aethra and the people looking out for her. You tried to murder her in her sleep, regardless of her child.”
“Don’t act all high and mighty.”
“If you followed my lead with the Wolves to begin with, you would be fine. I’m not getting you out of this.”
He paused, watching her. She expected him to yell, to get angry again, but he didn’t. He looked more surprised, impressed even.
Almost like she was a new woman in his eyes. Maybe the years apart did them some good. Not that it mattered now. Raisa stifled that hope.
He sighed. “Just give me one thing, then.”
“I’m not giving you the key.”
“Not the key,” he said stepping closer. “A kiss.”
“What?”
“A goodbye kiss,” he said. “I never got one before.”
Raisa froze, not entirely sure how to respond. Eventually, she rolled her eyes and he smirked. She loved the unbalanced smile once, before he walked out.
Raisa took the key from her hidden belt pocket. She knew he was going to go for it with the kiss as a distraction. Jingling the key ring in front to him, like a piece of meat for a dog, his eyes instantly went to it. Before, she might have actually given it to him, now Raisa turned and dropped it in a corner of the cell Arus couldn’t reach.
“Aw, that’s not fair,” he groaned, but his unbalanced smile was still there.
Raisa closed the distance between them and met his lips. They were chapped as always, but she never cared. He leaned into it, gripping the front of her guard uniform with his chained hands.
“Lift your arms,” Raisa said pulling away for a moment.
Arus complied surprisingly. “You never gave orders in bed.”
Once Raisa had his arms down again, around her this time, she ordered, “Shut up.”
He kissed her again and it deepened. At one point, she was straddling him on the cell cot, untying his trousers, trying to breathe while his lips trailed down her neck.
Once they were finished, Raisa took the key and left him panting on the cot. She thought he would finally leave her thoughts, but that never happened. She took a piece of him with her from the cell, and nine months later, their daughter had his eyes.
After all of that, she was stricter on staying out of politics and royalty all together. She tried to keep Drivas’s curiosity down, constantly afraid that she would take after her father.
Now here Raisa was, doing a queen’s bidding partially because she act
ually did like Aethra, but mainly because Drivas had taken a liking to Stymphalia. If the city fell to anything, she couldn’t let Drivas get hurt. And knowing her daughter, she would try to get involved.
Raisa thought about appealing to that side of Pen. It was a better idea than the ambush, though they would still have to catch her to talk in the first place. Pen had been surprisingly helpful with Drivas’s early years. Raisa had to remind herself that although Pen was distant, and seemed to prefer that, she was still a mother. For a while Pen even lived with them, and when she chose to travel again, she had at least came back as often as she could.
Raisa noticed city guardsmen passing the alley. Thankfully, they didn’t turn down the path, but she was glad she noticed them then or she would have missed the figure behind them. She stood still, focusing on the shadow that followed them. Purple hair caught the light of a lantern from an open window as she entered the alley.
Raisa gave a surprised sigh as Pen knocked on their door.
More movement caught her eye at the alley entrance again. Another figure stood by the corner looking down the narrow path. This person didn’t move, but part of him entered a window’s lamp light. She couldn’t make out details, but his thicker beard and hair was definitely either black or a dark blue. The figure just stood there watching until Raisa heard the door below open and close again. The shadow vanished back round the corner.
Unease crawled up Raisa’s back.
Chapter Five
Pen
“You’ve been followed,” Raisa said bounding into the common room.
Pen froze, partially grateful for the distraction, but very confused. She didn’t like how Palamedes was watching her now. She could practically see the questions dancing behind his eyes.
Her own question took over. “Did you see who it was? One of the king’s men?”
“I don’t think so. If it was a guardsman he would have called out, tried to stop you, but he just watched you come in.”
Disquiet settled onto her spine. She had always been safe in the shadows.
Grief of the Undying (The Ichorian Epics Book 3) Page 3