“Pen was looking for a coin,” Raisa said thinking of Palamedes. “Tyndareus was buried with it, but she wanted it back. It wasn’t even valuable, just a rusty copper.”
“Well, why not mention that before?” Proteus argued.
“Pen isn’t—” Raisa didn’t know how to really explain, but the pause actually helped and gave her an idea. “She’s secretive and not entirely … sane. At least compared to us. I don’t know if she wanted it for her own reasons and was too stubborn to let it go, or if she was listening to the gods.”
“You’re serious?” he asked, but Raisa could see he believed her. “Did you get this coin?”
“Aye, thankfully.”
“Where is it?”
“Palamedes picked it up.”
Palamedes glared at her now, but stayed quiet.
Proteus turned to him. “Where is it?”
For a moment, Raisa thought Palamedes was going to spit at his feet.
“Left pocket,” he said.
Proteus knelt by him and reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a large, old copper piece, and his eyebrows knit together, confused.
“I don’t think it does anything,” Raisa said shrugging, “but if Pen wants it for any divine reason, I wouldn’t get involved.”
Proteus held the coin carefully, as if it were a bug that might bite him.
“Untie them,” Proteus said, standing.
The ropes around her wrists fell away. The moment she was free, Raisa cast them off and went to Pen’s side, pulling Milanos off her. She was barely breathing, but she was unconscious finally.
She heard Palamedes grunt. He made it to his feet, but he couldn’t put much weight on his leg. It was bleeding again too.
“Let us leave,” Raisa said to Proteus. “I understand if we’re outright banished, but just let us leave.”
“She can’t travel,” Milanos said.
“And whose fucking fault is that?!”
“You can stay with me,” Milanos said, uncomfortable.
“Fuck no!”
“She’s not welcome anywhere else. And you’re right about Arch,” he admitted.
“Raisa,” Palamedes said before she could give any retort. “We need a place to rest. Preferably with a roof this time.”
Raisa glared at Milanos, but Palamedes was right. He could barely walk.
“What about this tavern?” Raisa asked. “We can pay for a room.”
“I’m afraid not,” Proteus said. “Once word spreads that the Blood Warrior is here, and that it’s Pen of all people, no one will be happy. No one will disturb you on Milanos’s farm, though, but once she can walk, you’re all leaving.”
Chapter Eleven
Pen
Every breath hurt. For a while Pen couldn’t feel anything, and that was more unnerving than the pain.
The smell of manure and animals assaulted her senses too.
Pen managed to force her eyes open, though even that was agony. Everything was blurry at first, but she made out beams on the wooden ceiling. It was flat, and bits of straw stuck out through the slates.
She wondered if she was under a loft because she was definitely in a barn. Glancing to the side, she saw the back of a cow in its pen and tools lining the wall in an alcove beside it. From what Pen could tell, she was on a bench in a similar space across the room. She knew this place.
Someone was sitting next to her, and for a moment she thought it was Arch. The person looked up at her gasp. Raisa put down the knife she was sharpening and touched Pen’s shoulder.
“Don’t move,” she said. “You’re okay now.”
“I am not,” Pen grunted trying to sit up, “fucking … okay. We’re in … Milanos’s barn.”
She had been here with and without Arch plenty of times. The two of them would sneak off at night to the loft to be alone together.
“He knows,” Raisa said. “It was his idea, and we needed a place to stay so you could heal.”
“How long have we been here?” Pen asked.
“About a week.”
“We need to leave,” Pen said trying to sit up.
Moving was excruciating.
“No,” Raisa pushed her shoulders down. “No, not until you rest properly.”
“I can’t … do that here,” she wanted to scream, but it came out as an angry whisper.
“You can if you let yourself. Milanos hasn’t come anywhere near you since we got here. I wouldn’t let him.”
Pen settled onto the makeshift bed, huffing and biting back a curse.
Footsteps caught her attention. A little girl stood behind a pillar behind Raisa. She couldn’t have been more than six or seven, with light brown hair pulled back into a messy bun.
She stared at Pen, but stole a glance to Raisa now and then.
“Hello, again,” Raisa greeted.
“Kynthia!” Milanos’s voice reverberated down the barn.
The girl jumped, but ran off towards his voice, casting one more glance to Pen.
“That his daughter?” Pen asked.
“Yes, she’s been sneaking in here almost daily.” Raisa sighed and stood looking down the barn’s center to the entrance.
“You should eat,” Raisa said. “The quicker you regain your strength, the quicker we can leave, but don’t push it. You stay put.”
“Okay, fine,” Pen said, at Raisa’s serious tone.
Raisa pointed at her with the expectant look of “you better listen” before leaving.
Pen grunted against the hole in her chest but propped herself up onto the packs that acted as the pillow. She realized then that the blanket over her was the blue Phaos cloak.
She wondered where Palamedes was and how his leg was doing. He was probably close by.
She glanced up at the straw poking out of the ceiling, and a smile tugged at her lips despite the old ache in her heart.
Footsteps drew her attention again to the barn’s center space. They weren’t as light as Kynthia’s, so Pen suspected Raisa was already back with the food.
Milanos came into view around the corner.
Pen instantly tried to draw blood from her hand, but that cut had healed too much. The only wound now was in her chest, because of him. She could draw from there, but it would hurt.
Milanos held his hand towards her in a calming gesture.
“Easy, I’m not going to hurt you again,” he said.
“Really? Because technically you do still owe Arch revenge.” She bit back the pain of talking.
“Why did you let me do that in the first place?” he asked bewildered. “If you knew you still had the Undying Curse, why let me try to kill you? Because I didn’t miss.”
“I knew you wouldn’t,” she said. “It was basically impossible being that close.”
Milanos took the stool Raisa had been using, rubbing his hands together. He didn’t look angry, just uncomfortable and sad.
“I knew you wouldn’t let up on me unless you avenged Arch, or tried to,” Pen said, “and I deserve it anyway.”
“What happened to them?” he sighed.
Pen recounted as best she could about the blood magic awakening and how she tried to bring them back, including her travels to Skiachora and talking to Nyx.
Milanos froze at that part and swallowed.
“You talked to Nyx?”
“Aye, but she wouldn’t do anything. I ended up causing the entire Undying Curse, but I fixed that too.”
“I had heard,” he said, still astonished, “that the Blood Warrior saved us from that. I had no idea it was you, though.”
“Me and a man named Tellus.”
Her breath vanished again when she realized Tellus was never going to be remembered. He died because of her actions too. No one would even know he existed.
Milanos held his head in his hands, messing up his hair. He stared wide-eyed at nothing, trying to comprehend something.
“You okay?” Pen asked.
“The gods are real,” he sighed
.
“That was a bit of a shock for me too,” Pen confessed. “I wasn’t even sure if cutting my throat would actually summon Nyx.”
Milanos blinked up at her, coming back to himself at that comment.
“It honestly was an accident?”
“Of course it was,” she gasped around the pain. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could talk like this.
Milanos rubbed his callused hands together, pressing his lips into a thin line.
“I can’t … exactly forgive you,” he said, “but you can leave in three days. Just don’t come back here.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
He stood, not meeting her eye.
“Milanos?” Pen said.
He paused and it looked like he really had to force himself to turn to her.
“How many children do you have?” she asked, curious. “You weren’t even married, and we both know how much Arch nagged you about it.”
His melancholy seemed to relax then as he chuckled.
“Aye, he did. Theodora and I have four children now.”
“Lambros is your oldest?”
Milanos nodded. “And Kynthia is the youngest.”
“She seems sweet.”
“She is, a quiet little thing too. I wish they could have met Alard.”
Pen couldn’t breathe again, but she forced herself to.
“Will you take care of their graves?” she managed to ask.
“I have been already,” Milanos nodded.
Pen froze, not sure how to respond. Milanos dipped his head a touch in a small nod and left.
Chapter Twelve
Raisa
Raisa glanced over to Pen on the other side of the fire. She was shredding her cooked squirrel into bits. She was forcing each piece down. Each piece was tiny and thin, so she hardly had to chew.
She was pale too, and Raisa worried as they walked that she might faint. Pen never did, but her cough would have her doubling over several times.
Now they were only half a day’s walk from the nearest inn, the Traveler’s Rest. It was a fitting name, being in the middle of nowhere, and Pen needed the rest. They had left Milanos’s farm two days ago.
Raisa remembered seeing Milanos leave the barn as she was coming back with stew for Pen. He hadn’t said anything, he hadn’t even looked up. Raisa hurried back to Pen, half expecting there to be another wound. Pen just laid there as before and denied the stew. Raisa noticed the tears in her eyes before she closed them and turned to face the wall.
Raisa took the stool again and kept the stew close by.
Three days later, they left shortly after dawn. Pen wasn’t perfectly healed, but she was able to walk. Milanos was working the field with his two oldest sons and watched them leave.
The little one, Kynthia, was the only one to come out and actually see them off.
She called out “Aunty Pen” and ran right up to her.
Raisa had seen how Pen froze at the name, but she turned to the little girl.
Kynthia held up a daisy, smiling at Pen with her expectant eyes.
For a moment, Raisa thought Pen wasn’t going to take the flower, but then she knelt. She took the daisy from Kynthia and hugged her.
Raisa glanced to Milanos. He looked tense, but he hadn’t left the field.
When Pen pulled back, she whispered a small thank you to Kynthia.
The girl beamed and ran back to her mother who was also watching them from the porch.
The daisy was tied to Pen’s boot now, the tips of the white petals just starting to brown.
A shadow passed over them drawing Raisa’s attention up. A large hawk flew overhead, probably hunting for a mouse.
Pen had noticed it too, glancing up from her own meal.
“Beautiful bird,” Raisa said, trying to draw Pen into a conversation.
Pen just nodded and slipped another strip of meat into her mouth.
“That inn is close,” she tried again. “I think we should stop there for a couple of days. Palamedes’s leg is all right, but you still need proper rest.”
Again, Pen hardly replied, she just nodded.
“Okay.” Raisa scratched at the scar on her face. “Pen, you have to start talking sometime.”
“I’ve been talking,” Pen argued. “Besides, talking too much hurts.”
“I get that, but,” Raisa tried again, “what did you and Milanos talk about? I know he was there at some point.”
“It was just about past things.”
“Pen—”
“Raisa, please,” Pen threw the rest of the squirrel into the fire. Her voice shook at the end. “It was family stuff. Just please leave it be.”
Pen stood and left the campfire. She went to the river and stared at the current, her back to the camp and her head bowed.
Raisa sighed and sat back against the tree.
The brush rustled close by, and Palamedes weaved his way through. He sat beside her, leaning against his own pack.
“She always like this?” he asked, gesturing to Pen.
“Basically, but it’s gotten worse,” Raisa said, wondering how much he heard just then. “You find anything about our extra friend?”
“The same tracks as always, but they vanish into another rocky outcrop not far from here. It’s a wide spot too, with lots of places to hide,” he reported.
“Shit, he must know we’re onto him. Maybe we could leave some sort of message behind, but we’ll have no way of knowing if he got it.”
“I don’t think we need to worry about that actually,” Palamedes said.
“What do you mean?”
“I doubled back on our own trail, and I noticed a few streaks of blood on rocks and leaves. They’re spaced apart, but fairly obvious once you start looking for them,” he explained.
“Has your leg been brushing against anything?” she asked.
“That stopped bleeding days ago.” He patted his thigh where the arrow struck him.
Raisa groaned, not wanting to accept the idea.
“Pen’s leading him along with us,” she said.
“My thoughts exactly,” he said. “Do you really think it’s her father? What’s so special about him? She keeps claiming he’s this normal human, but I don’t think so.”
“I don’t know, but given the empty grave, he might be special like her.”
“I don’t like this,” he confessed.
“What exactly?” Raisa asked, noting the slight hostility in his tone.
“She’s leading this stranger without telling us. A person who might be her father back from the dead. Plus the fact that she still has the Undying Curse. What if something worse than the Era of Undying is going to happen?”
“The dead are not rising,” Raisa said. “I just don’t really think he died in the first place.”
“What about the fact that she killed her family? You’re okay with that? You even let her close to Drivas,” Palamedes accused.
“She has paid for that, several times over. She still is,” Raisa defended.
“There’s something she’s not telling us,” he protested.
“What do you suggest we do, then?” she asked. “Enlighten me, how would you ask the Blood Warrior if she knows anything about her father rising from the grave?”
“I thought you could talk to her—”
“I’ve been trying,” she snapped, “but if that woman doesn’t want to talk, then she won’t. If you want to try, then go for it, but she’s probably going to throw you in the river. I’m going to take the next damn watch.”
Palamedes sighed but didn’t argue.
Raisa stood and left the campfire as Pen had. She climbed a sharp rise in the rock to get a better view of their camp.
She saw Palamedes stand and watch Pen too but didn’t approach her.
Raisa had no idea what he was exactly suggesting, but she didn’t like it, and she knew Pen didn’t need it. He was right, though. Pen was luring their follower along. Raisa hoped she wasn’t hidin
g anything too dangerous, but she started to suspect that Pen knew more than she was letting on.
Chapter Thirteen
Pen
The stench of wildwood was pungent but not altogether unpleasant. Several people had it at the Traveler’s Rest, and just breathing in the smoke was enough to make Pen feel light-headed. She sat back in her chair now, foot propped up on another bench, with a full tankard in hand.
Her chest hurt, but the worst had healed. She was finally able to take full breaths without coughing.
Raisa never liked the stuff, so she retired to their room a while ago. Palamedes was off at his own table with four other travelers, possibly from Kaliasma given their shades of blue hair and tanned skin. Those travelers had invited both of them to a game of Chase Me, but Pen had declined. Palamedes took them up on the offer, though, and Pen was actually glad. He had been so sullen lately and hardly talked to her.
Pen took a swig of the bitter ale trying to wash away the growing resentment. It had been her own damn fault he was so distant around her. Raisa was right; she had to learn to be nicer. She couldn’t help it if he asked stupid questions, though.
Pen considered going over to join them and see if they would let her in on the game, but she couldn’t help but feel like any attempt at honest fun would probably curdle, as it usually did. Besides, she had no way of knowing what Palamedes told them about her. She had seen them talking and noticed their glances. They didn’t seem hostile, but they weren’t inviting anymore.
She had to keep a clear head anyway, and being distracted by the game or more wildwood would not help. It was late, and Palamedes was just finishing off his third ale.
When the moon passed its zenith, the bartender and his wife retired. Pen’s tankard was still half full but practically stale now. She intended for that. If she had known Palamedes was going to stay up this late she could have carried out her plan last night before they got here. She wanted the tavern’s safety and soft beds to really lull Raisa and Palamedes into sleep.
Finally, when Pen was considering giving up and trying tomorrow night, Palamedes stood with the last Kaliasman traveler. The others had retired a while ago.
Pen stayed put, watching the last of the fire dance.
Grief of the Undying (The Ichorian Epics Book 3) Page 7