Page 46 of Fate

“Helia, where are we? Please tell me we didn’t retreat.”

“Ah, no. We are near Askepollo. We will reach it today actually.” Today?! I didn’t expect that. I thought I would have more time to mentally prepare.

“But I thought it was in the wildlands. Why is there so much life here?” Lush trees, spongy grass, and teeming with life; the antithesis of what we saw at the beginning of this leg of the journey.

“I honestly don’t know. If I had to guess, I would say it’s because we are near Askepollo. It’s the center of Lunos’s power; it’s possible this is the effect of being near it. We actually started to see some of this yesterday.” We have no way of knowing, but that sounds as likely as anything else.

“While we have a moment to ourselves, I need to tell you something.” Helia fishes around in her coin purse and pulls out one of the gold Solon coins. She rubs her thumb across the sigil, deep in thought. “I think I’ve figured out which god is chasing us, hunting you. I think it’s Keppilo.”

Keppilo. The lower god of wealth and cunning. Nia told me the lower pantheon coveted the power of the upper. Gods have limited influence in the world, but money could drive humans to follow any divine machinations. Pieces start fitting together in my mind as I nod along in agreement. Every attacker over the months has had a gold coin of some sort; wealth to buy them and wealth to bless them. Besides that, pitting two upper gods against each other sounds exactly like what the god of cunning would do. No direct proof, but it explains a lot. For a brief moment, the golden tree in Ionos flashes in my mind. A sign of Keppilo’s influence everywhere we’ve been.

“Glad to see you think so too. We must be careful.” Helia’s face turns to stone, her hand unconsciously reaching for her sword. “If we are right, Keppilo will become desperate and likely has more schemes ready for us.” And no time to prepare for them. I can’t help but sigh; this complicates everything.

***

Reaching Askepollo is unlike anything I had expected. We stay under the cover of the dense pines taking stock of the ruins in front of us. What once must have been a cleared and bustling conclave of Lunites is now reduced to overgrown rubble. Trees sprout here and there among the fallen marble columns, grass grows tall where homes and hearth once stood. Askepollo had been small; probably the size of Athos. Yet the marble speaks to a higher quality of life, a life of status and luxury. But the remnants of marble is not where most of us are looking.

A rock formation juts out from the ground at the far edge of the ruins, taller than a hill but not quite a mountain. Even at this distance, I can see the sheer, geometric columns of otherworldly black stone that compose the formation; an oppressively stark contrast to nature’s reclamation of the town.

“That’s our destination. The Temple of Lunos.” Lyras points a shaking finger toward the stone, whether in fear or awe I cannot tell. Helia gives the word and the band walks out from under the trees, weapons drawn. None of the officers gave the order, but no one is taking chances.

Our trudging through the overgrowth is slow, caution in our steps through the gently swaying grasses. But it’s the specters of homes, ghosts of tiled agoras, and revenants of tavernas, that slow our gait. The lives of those past and what might have happened to them hang over all of our heads, regardless of the bright midday sun.

Lyras told us that no one truly knew what happened. Askepollo was a remote town, but prosperous and the central location for followers of Lunos. Something occurred generations ago and all contact was severed. At the same time, the wildlands burst into being, the land dying without warning. A mercenary band was hired to investigate and not only did they return with word that Askepollo was a barren wasteland, but more than half died in the effort.

Perhaps that is why Lyras’s nerves are so shaken. It’s one thing to know the stories; it’s another to visit the ancient center of your faith alongside the Conduit and Aspect of your goddess.

My mind turns. Lyras had said that the mercenaries found a barren wasteland of a city; a far cry from the overgrown ruins we now traverse. As I look around to find Lyras and ask him, I notice that the rest of the band is stopped in their tracks, all staring at our destination. Matching their gaze, my feet fall in place, just as theirs had.

Carved into the face of the hexagonal rock are beautiful statues of Lunos periodically along a winding walkway leading to something out of sight. Likely the entrance to the temple itself. Lyras and the surviving priests step forward, leading us up to a door etched into the stone. Beautiful and chaotic symbols weave in and out across the doorway, unreadable yet mesmerizing in an alien way.

With a hushed tone, the band gathers around, waiting. The Lunite priests approach the door and split off, one to each side and Lyras in the center.

“Goddess of the moon, light our path.” The priest on the left of the door pushes on a series of symbols, each one emitting the scraping groan of stone on stone.

“Goddess of the moon, allow us passage.” The one on the right does the same, more symbols give way. Lyras places his hands on twin full moons, one on each door before throwing his head back.

“Goddess of magic, we beseech you! Open the way!” With great exultation, Lyras pushes and for a moment nothing happens. Then a deep rumble vibrates through all of our feet, slow at first, until our bones are shaking. Mechanisms within the rocks shift and grind, and the doorway opens, a gust of stale air blasting dust that coats our faces.

We stand at the entrance, too stunned to speak, too uncertain of the darkness before us. Ethereal blue light winks into existence within crystals attached to the walls, revealing a long hallway leading further into the temple.

Mustering her courage, shoulders set, Lyras continues to lead the way and charts a course for us to follow. A few dilapidated rooms lay off from the main hallway, though we have little time to investigate. Our footsteps and the soft creak of armor echoes across the stone walls, light reflecting off of the obsidian surfaces with every step until we reach a large entryway. Lyras gasps before stepping inside the room.

A hot spring lay in the center of a perfectly circular room bathed in afternoon sunlight. Gazing up at the ceiling, I see the hexagonal stone irregularly intertwined, yet converging to make a dome. At the center of it is a final open hexagon, as wide as the spring below it, allowing natural light to flow into the room. The blue crystals that gave the hallways light pepper the walls of this room as well, though the warm sun drowns them out. Two additional doorways sit along the circular wall, stone staircases leading to them.

Walking down the stairs at our feet, the band gathers at the edge of the water. Steam makes the air thick with moisture, pleasantly so, as the skylight opening provides a natural vent. Lyras rustles himself from his religious stupor and approaches Helia and I while the rest fill out the room.

“This is where we will perform the ritual. Tomorrow night is the full moon and thus the ritual. Once we begin, we cannot—must not—be interrupted.” Lyras casts a meaningful look at Helia, who merely nods, some unspoken message delivered between Lyras’s words. The hair on the back of my neck rises, knowing what Lyras is implying. Turning, he calls his fellow priests together and sets about their preparations.

“Spears! Gather round!” Without hesitation, we form ranks at Helia’s command, even the injured. I notice Andra breathing heavily, though she doesn’t acknowledge it. “Andra, take the wounded and scout the other hallways. Make sure no one can sneak up on us. Bellius, take the rest and post up at the main entrance. Itho will cook a feast for us tonight; for tomorrow we must be prepared.” Helia’s lips set grimly, likely in expectation of her fated sacrifice or something else. “Tomorrow, we should expect our enemy to attack. They do not want us to succeed; let’s make them regret making an enemy of the Spears.” A few cries go up at that, though subdued in the presence of holy ground.

Tomorrow night, the ritual will take place. Tomorrow night, they will sacrifice Helia to Lunos. I lock eyes with Olena as she joins Bellius. Tomorrow night, we’re going to save Helia.

“Dismissed!” We move swiftly to our duties, though my eyes linger on Helia’s back as she moves to join Andra and the wounded scout down one of the hallways. No matter how much we’ve talked about the future, about our wants, everything will change tomorrow. I shrug out of my armor and cloak before walking with the quartermaster to look over the supplies.

“Lyras!” He turns to my call from the other side of the spring, mild irritation at the interruption. “Can we use the spring water for our meal?” Even from across the pool I can see his eye twitching before exhaling deeply. Without a word, he gestures with one hand before returning to his discussion. I shrug to the quartermaster before turning back to our food; holy water or not, it’s the only nearby source.

I grab some barley flour, lentils, lard, cured meat, and a bit of the spices our quartermaster managed to stock up on in Hecalon. With a few quick words I send them out for wood to start a fire. As soon as they are away, I get to work making the barley flatbread; equal parts flour and spring water.