I.x

 Helena disappeared beneath the close horizon of the cliffs edge, and for a moment my breathe followed her into the pit of stone and water. As with everything she did, it was done with much silence beforehand, and little hesitation in the moment.

I peered shyly over the stone lip. Below was a calm blackness I knew could very well turn to churning rage if my attention wandered for too long.

Swimming was a doable task. I had spent many childhood days on the riverbeds of Cyprus, splashing and throwing water in fits as young ones are wont to do. Those bouts of play had evolved into some basic form of paddling and floating, eventually. Yet later, in my days wielding weapons against foreign enemies, the rocking of ships against waves still slowly wound my nerves.

Helena hadn't given much thought to it, it seemed. She hadn't given herself the chance to stare into the single eye of the seemingly endless abyss below. Or, alternatively, she hadn't much cared.

That did flare mild annoyance in me. Allowed a quick conversation, we could have agreed to make our way back to the hidden boat and circle back, the obstacle of this drop now circumvented.

Yet what’s done is done. Crying over spilled drink only nets you foggy eyes to clean your mess with.

I jumped with a beleaguered sigh. The sound abruptly cut off as my stomach rose to meet my chest. It was like falling through nothing, for a few moments. The air was docile in that moment and gave little resistance to my falling form.

I entered the water suddenly and with great surprise. It had snuck up on me in the darkness.

Instinctual panic seized me. Man in dark water, underneath the surface, unknowing of where to go. It was something from a nightmare.

But as suddenly as the sea had risen to engulf me, my arm was grabbed tight. With a start, I was dragged roughly in what I assumed was an upward direction. My head broke the water two or three seconds later. I did not gasp for air, which my dignity was grateful for, but the release in my lungs was a blessing.

Helena treaded water beside me. Her hair draped her face like ink made solid, and the braid it was pulled into rested heavily on her shoulder. Loose hairs ran amok from the action of the past hours.

"Follow close," She stated. She treaded water for a few more seconds, then breathed deep and dove under. Once again, I caught a glimpse of solid calves before she withdrew into darkness. I did what she asked and followed close.

Underneath the ocean moonlight was bent and fractured by the calm but softly rippling surface above. I caught flashes of life around us as we travelled, which quickly tapered off as we swam under the lip of the island. Blackness swarmed, and panic once again struck as my mind slowly pieced together what our lack of equipment meant in this environment.

Helena’s feet swept upwards, following the curve of her body as she rose. I heard muted intakes of air seconds before my ears rose above the waterline.

She felt blindly but carefully in front of her. The lack of light was so thick her lower arm disappeared if she moved it too far from my sight. Her hand hit a ledge after half a minute of fumbling and leading me slowly around this pool. She hoisted herself up, and I did the same.

For a moment or two, we simply stood and dripped along with the cave.

"I thought to myself only minutes ago, what a nice amenity the boat would have been. Now that we stand here in a shroud of darkness, dripping sea water onto this floor, I can only imagine how many torches we could have carried in that vessel." I said. To her, my voice must have seemed disembodied. I let the annoyance creep through pursed lips.

She made another vague noise in the long line of wordless sounds I'm sure could continue for eternity if she wasn't directly engaged. I spoke no words in return, focusing my efforts into forming an argument that would convince her to spend more time swimming back for our boat.

As I did that, she stepped forward slightly. Out of fear of losing her, I followed. We repeated this pattern for five steps, and on the fifth, as her foot lightly hit the ground, the cave lit up in soft blue around us.

Both of us started. Neither of us made motions to run or attack, and neither were startled, as the appearance of the ambient glow wasn’t sudden. It grew softly, like a hasty rendition of the sun growing bright during the dawn.

It came from lines that travelled along the wall in symmetry with each other, mirrored with their partners on the other wall. A single, particularly thick one began right before the point Helena’s foot had landed on the floor, and travelled deeper into the cave, disappearing around a turn ahead.

We stood in silence for moments. Then, we each turned slightly to catch the other’s eye.

“You were told this was a place of legend.” I stated.

“Yes.” She confirmed.

“I haven’t seen anything of this caliber in the years I have spent travelling.” I said. The lines were not flame or even intricately made patterns of glass set to cover an abundant light. Nothing of that sort. They were, themselves, the light that lightly pulsed and undulated around us.

We began to walk.

The hall was most definitely stone. It looked the same as the tops of rock we saw above the water, that made up the base of the island. Yet it had been neatly and dutifully carved into a perfectly shaped tunnel. No uneven slates where human hands had fumbled. The stone was perfectly smooth and cold to the touch. As we walked, I ran my hand along it and felt the cool texture, only akin to stone eroded to a sheen by decades of gentle water.

The long, thin trail of light led us around the turn. We walked carefully, wary of tricks and traps. As Helena walked in front of me, I could see tension in the bunched muscles of her neck, and the stilted way her legs moved.

Almost as soon as the next part of the cave came into view, we were halted. Impeding our progress was a slab of stone, intricately carved with hard, runic designs around a singular circle of black in the center. The line of colour on the floor changed directions below it, crawling up the wall and straight into the dark shape without lighting it.

Once more, we simply stood and stared for moments. I attempted to catch Helena's gaze for a few seconds, and she must have eventually felt my eyes on her, as she turned slightly to meet me.

"Have you seen any structure of this sort in your years?" I asked.

She continued to stare at the decorated stone in front of us, brow furrowing more and more each moment.

"No." She responded, genuine confusion in her voice.

"And neither have I. Diamedes' should give those spies he works with hearty commendation, should they ever return. The Lycons have indeed stumbled upon something great." I said. Helena made no attempt to respond.

She was running her fingers along the hard angles of the carvings. I could sense her mind working, could see see the light in her eyes as they stared intently into the stone. I turned my gaze to follow hers. The angular, thin trenches made symmetrical, neat patterns, continuing on from their runnings on the walls, much as the line of blue light had from the floor. They came from the four corners of the slab, blossoming into identical patterns as they reached towards the circle of black in the center. Created so that all attention was drawn towards it.

"The circle-" I started, as Helena rose to touch her palm and fingers to the shape. As her skin made contact, the blue light flowed from the line below to fill the circle, like throwing ink in water. As the colour changed completely, the sound of rock against rock began, and the slab slowly spun into the wall, exposing a circular, empty hole where it once sat.

Through that sat a room, three or four times my height and many more times my width. It was perfectly round, a half-sphere carved into the stone. A circular river of that calming blue light ran around the edges of the floor. In the center of the room stood a pedestal, which Helena was already making her way towards.

It sat around ankle height, with two curved arms extending and coming back together at the top. Where they met rested half a sword, the jagged blade of dull gold pointing down towards the floor. The hilt, made of what looked like black stone, rested between the limbs of the pedestal.

I joined Helena in staring in silence at the weapon. The blade had been broken a little more than halfway down its length, almost as if it had been shattered by a powerful strike from a large tool. Despite that, it still seemed to have a wicked edge, if only to the eye, as the break in the metal ramped upwards from left to right into a fine point.

"Since you allowed yourself to open the seemingly impassable door that stood before us, may I try my hand at extracting the blade from its place of rest?" I asked with a bit of friendly mocking in my voice. At this, Helena looked stonily at me, and gave a slight shrug and tilt of the head. Friendly banter seemed to still be lost on her. I sighed as I reached forward.

"Your hands are more valuable to our journey at this moment than mine anyways, if the amount of hostile people we're encountering is going to continue at its current rate." I stated. As I finished, my hand gripped the handle of the weapon firmly, and I pulled. Absolutely nothing happened.

I furrowed my brow. Helena looked unimpressed.

"That was not a joke for your amusement." I stated dryly. On second contact with the blade, my arm tingled, and then lost all feeling up to the elbow. Instantly, I retracted the limb.

"Fucking gods!" I shouted. At this, Helena looked somewhat alarmed. My hand and forearm hung uselessly at my side. No pain, but nothing much else either.

After a moments gaze at the blade, Helena stepped towards it.

"At the moment, half my arm has lost all sensation. Do you truly think it wise to attempt a procurement of this weapon again?" I asked with lips pursed and eyes wide.

"We need it." Helena responded.

For two moments, I stared at her, and then switched to look at the sword. For that, I had no argument.

"Fuck." I stated. She made a noise of agreement in return.

It seemed to take much longer than I anticipated for her to reach out and grab the hilt. My mind was churning through ideas of what a third attempt may escalate to.

Yet when she wrapped her hand around the handle and gently pulled it free with a slight sound of metal on metal, nothing much occurred.

For a moment or two, she stared down at the broken blade in her grasp. Her features, already strong and striking in the sunlight, were defined by blue highlights and dark lines shed by the strange light sources around us.

She tilted her head to the side slightly as she closed her eyes, and then gave herself a small shake from the neck up. It looked more like a shiver of delight than an action to focus her mind.

"Something amiss?" I asked carefully. It was a movement and expression that looked strange on her usually stony façade. She shook her head in the negative as she settled into that expression once more.

"Just a strange feeling." She said.

"In what regard?"

She was contemplative for a moment.

"I feel well rested. Like I've woken from a good sleep." As she spoke, her brow took on a slight furrow. She didnt elaborate any further, instead deciding to take the dagger from its sheathe on her lower back and slide the broken weapon in. Without the rest of its length, the blade was of similar size and shape to its cousin.

She motioned towards me with the hand that held her dagger, eyebrows raised slightly. I took it without comment, placing it between belt and hip for the time being.

"You'll need something other than a bow." Helena said, a statement I assumed was meant to intend I should keep the weapon.

"You would be surprised." I felt my lips turn into a slight, involuntary smirk at this. I continued, saying, "I am also much less proficient with a blade than you."

She stared for a moment.

"That can be remedied." She replied, and then began the short trek back to the beginning of the cave. I wasn't keen on what that statement implied, yet I followed her regardless.

The swim back through the underwater tunnel was much brighter this time around, lit by the same blue lines that ran through the cave. They seemed to wave and shimmer as we passed.

Despite the shortened time spent beneath the waves from knowing our destination, I still gasped slightly as our heads broke into cool night air. We both treaded water for a few moments, my movements functional but a tad clumsier than Helena's.

 

"What a blessing a boat would have been in a moment such as this." I stated unhappily. Helena glowered at this, although not necessarily at me. She made a dissatisfied noise to accompany the emotion and respond to my statement simultaneously.

"We'll swim to where the boat is. We can easily find the other camp from there." She stated. I huffed in complaint, but followed her as she departed nonetheless.

We were still slightly damp as we collected our weapons and other paraphernalia from where they lay hidden in the brush on the cliffs top. We had given a quick eye to the boat in its own place amidst the foliage, as to make sure it remained there, and then set off. The coolness of the air was not assisting in our state of being wet.

As I slung the bow over my chest, being careful with the string, I felt my shoulders and back groan. The muscles ached from the last hours of shooting and swimming. My legs felt a similar discomfort from the monumental amounts of walking.

Helena, though, showed no outward displeasure or pain. She moved as economically and quick as she had since we met, despite her broad stature and the hours of work I had witnessed.

"The man who lent us our vessel must be worrying about how he shall feed the newest member of his family, previously known as our horse." When Helena looked at me questioningly, I continued:

"We said we would only be away for a handful of hours. When we return, it will have been almost a whole day."

Helena seemed to contemplate this for a moment. Always silent, until absolutely forced to speak.

"Plans change. And that was a generous figure I gave him. He wants two platoons of men dead. I am not half-god." She said. She seemed to pause rather than stop, as the silence had a sort of lingering texture.

"Only one camp remains. The morning is almost here, so lets get to them before they wake." At this I said nothing. I simply let her mull over her decision, and then depart with me on her heels.

My discomfort over this job did not exist purely over the sanctity of a man's life. I had travelled this sister country of mine for years now, and had slowly experienced the Lycons more and more as their reach grew. They disquieted me when they passed, even though most were disciplined and kept to themselves. I saw anger inside them, the same kind I saw inside Helena every day. These particular men we were after were not of the noble sort, if the people of the village were to be believed.

The concern I showed over this situation was in what I saw it doing to the woman in front of me now. I had killed for country once, and for vengeance soon after, so the taking of a spirit bothered me little. The motivation behind it was what disturbed my peace. Helena walked every hour of her life with what looked like a great weight on her form, and with every step she took closer to her brother and Lycos, it bore down harder.

Weak sunlight was beginning to fall through dawn-bleached leaves as we settled into a covered space in the foliage. This clearing was much the same as the other; an irregular oval shape, taller than it was wide by a large margin.

Inside, half-clothed figures emerged and mulled around the camp. The three guards stood silent and armoured around them. All together, there was a group of twelve people, eight men and four women.

"Shall we do it much the same as last time?" I asked lowly, my mouth inclined towards Helena. Before she could answer, a small sound resounded through the camp, from somewhere along the forest line.

It was almost like a birdcall. The pitch was off slightly, however, and it sounded less shrill and high. Helena furrowed her brow and tensed, and I did much the same. Before I could puzzle anything out, she pushed me with what seemed like all of her considerable strength, and we were both sent sprawling out of the brush in opposite directions. We both rolled into the edge of the camp. I chanced a look behind us, and saw an arrow embedded where some part of one of our bodies had been.

Helena was already most of the way to the now on-guard group of hostile figures. They had scrambled to grab weapons after the warning call, and most now stood armed and waiting for her. My mind was beginning to race and surge with the feel of a fight, and I only thought for half a second of firing an arrow into the group before remembering the other bow-equipped and currently invisible opponent. With that, I rolled messily into the bushes.

As I slowly crawled on elbows and knees around the edge of the camp, I heard the clash of weapons and saw glimpses of Helena, still standing somehow unscathed, amidst the gaggle of bodies.

I had seen her fight before, and it had been a treat to witness, regardless of my stance on this mission. She was strong enough to swing a weapon without fear of it overpowering her stance or grip, yet she knew most trained men still stood stronger than her, and she used small, smart tactics to her own ends. The blade in the dirt was a favourite.

Yet from the small bits I could see filtered through the greenery, she seemed to be empowered by something more this day. Thrice already I saw her deflect a swing from a man twice her size with no flinch or backstep to accompany it. As she ducked under a blade, she hopped back and kicked that same man in the gut, and he was taken off his feet and sprawled a foot away by the power of it. The look of surprise on her face was small and rushed away by the energy of the fight, but it was noticeable.

I puzzled over those short glimpses I had seen as I slowly made my way around the clearing. Anxiety was rising in me; Helena had prowess in combat, but she was facing a small squadron of men alone and head on, with no tricks or tactics to thin their numbers. Regardless of her newfound strength, it uneased me more with each inch I moved, unable to assist.

That was to say nothing of the form in the trees, ready to rain arrows down upon us once I emerged slightly from the brush, and once Helena was free of the wall of people around her.

Without the ability to stop and nock an arrow for fear of being spotted if I rose above knee height, my options were limited. I was beginning to feel panic at the lack of options my mind was giving me. Any situation where I stopped and stood from this agonizingly slow crawl saw an arrow possibly flung in my direction. It wasn't a certainty, but past experience had learned me to never doubt an opponents skill. Better to overestimate their abilities and leave alive and whole.

That creed, however, was less encouraging when it was beginning to strangle every opportunity I had moving forward. If I got close enough to climb into the tree and get them down manually, I ran a very great risk of being spotted in the grass from above, stuck on my belly with no way to even see the arrow that would fatally pierce me.

With that image set firmly in mind, I turned to my right slightly, rotating myself with elbows and knees until I faced the edge of the foliage and could peer through to the clearing.

Once more I saw Helena's form, like a maelstrom of fists and blade. Shockingly, half the hostile figures were on the ground, surrounded by distorted crimson circles. Helena, though, looked like she had been in a fight with six armed figures. Her face was bloodied from what looked like two bleeding nostrils, and her left eye was squinting despite being in the shade, away from harsh light. Along with that, an array of cuts and scrapes in many sizes littered her exposed skin.

She was rolling and ducking and leaping more than she was striking, and I could see her quickly beginning to falter. I took that as a good time to run from the bush, bow in one hand, the other reaching for my new dagger.

My form crashed sideways into a man poised to swing his blade. My weapon slid into his side, and it jerked and cut as we fell into a heep. Helena took notice of this and used the cacaphony and visual distraction to take a swing at a woman's stomach. She arched around it, the point only lightly catching her.

"The archer is still in their perch. Keep the Lycons between them and us and I shall do my best to deal with them." I stated breathily, attempting to breath and speak simultaneously.

"Okay." Helena responded. Her face was hard and her eyes were wide, and she was also taking large, deep breaths. Yet she continued her attack, spinning on toes and the balls of her feet to keep the Lycons where she wanted.

A consequence of this tactic was a rapid use of Helena's remaining energy. Her steps out of the way of the sweeping blades faltered momentarily, and I saw metal cut coolly into the meat of her right arm. She hissed and writhed, but instead of flinching away, threw herself at the person wielding it. 

Before I could continue to follow that course of action, the Lycon adjacent me cursed as the bladed wing of an arrow grazed his cheek. The projectile flew through open air for a moment before doing the same to my leg as it had done to the mans face.

I did not take that as gracefully as Helena, cursing and clutching roughly at the opening in my flesh. I underestimated the love Lycon soldiers shared for one another it seemed, as another arrow flew with reckless abandon into the crowd. This one sunk harmlessly into the ground, no blood taken.

With unstable footing, from both the small but loud injury on my calf and the suddenness with which I chose to draw my bow, I let loose an opposing arrow in the direction I had seen. Helena swiped by me, taking a blow meant for me on her blades edge and causing the woman to falter. With only a moments hesitation, I once more tackled a Lycon to the ground, twisting so that their body fell on top of mine. An arrow sliced the air where my head had been.

The soldier and I wrestled, and I was surprised at the grip she had on my shoulders as we twirled in the dirt. I used my larger frame to spin us quickly to the clearings edge.

She seemed to not only catch my intention, but disagree with it as well, because her hands went to her back and were suddenly closed around a small blade. Worry bloomed through my mind.

My bow was dropped somewhere in the dirt as both hands snapped closed around her wrist. Not only was I attempting to stop her from piercing my gut, but I wanted to continue trading places in a vertical space, as to not have my back free to open air for too long. As we pushed, I glimpsed a shine of metal against red atop a branch, and then it was overtaken by the small but vicious form that now loomed over me.

My left hand came off the soldier’s wrist, and I felt her immediately utilize that advantage, the knife creeping steadily closer. She was throwing her whole weight into the action.

With my free hand, I swept fingers and palm along the ground as we spun once more. My back was now a perfectly positioned target, and I felt the morning sun breaching the leaves and gently hitting me. With speed and impatience brought about by a very true threat of impalement from both sides, I half-threw and half-slapped the dirt and sand and stones I had collected into the Lycons face. She sputtered and flinched at this, eyes closing.

Much Like she had, I showed little hesitation at the opening. I felt the weight of the archers stare on my uncovered form as I tore the blade from the woman’s hand and shoved it into her stomach.

I pictured the flash of red and metal I had seen amidst the greenery moments before as I rolled closer to the edge of the clearing. Coming up into a lunge, I used the momentum of the roll to help whip my arm around, the dagger catching the dawn light as it flew from my hand. For an anxious, breathless moment, I waited to hear the sound of a blade in wood, or metal sailing through empty forest.

Instead, a faint pained noise reached my ears, and something slumped and then fell uncaringly to the floor from atop a branch.

"Gods," I said, staring desperately at the crumpled man. I cursed gently for a few moments, and then turned to see Helena crouched on the ground amidst a horde of bodies, taking a breath.

I approached cautiously, very aware of how delicate a mind can be coming down from a brawl. A simple aggressive movement could be greeted with a hearty backhand from a blade. Helena turned to look at me halfway into my slow walk to her. I sped up slightly as she rose.

"How do you fare?" I inquired softly. The slash on her left arm was long but shallow, and both the blood from it and her nose was beginning to slow. Her eye showed no signs of swelling, but she still kept it half open, as if looking directly into a flame. A handful of small, raw scrapes covered her arms and legs, and I'm sure come tomorrow, bruises would begin to blossom beside them.

"Still living," She stated in return. I pursed my lips slightly. That was not exactly the response I had hoped for or expected.

"Let us not do something like that again." I said.

Helena grunted in return. For a few moments, she stood in that same spot, and stared down aimlessly at the ground. Her eyes wandered over the bodies. Her form was slumped and loose, but through the fatigue her breaths came fast and heavy. She was still coming down from the bloodlust.

But I knew that wasn't quite it. Helena was mortal, like us all, and she experienced the rush and sudden drain from combat. But even after her hands unclenched and her legs relaxed, she locked eyes with the corpses at her feet and continued her laboured breathing.

In my small handful of years travelling and seeing the breadth of people, I had come to realize many emotions shared core traits. Love shared a bed with hatred and melancholy. Even laughter, seen at the right angle and without sound to accompany it, could be mistaken for sobs of great grief.

Helena was a strange curio of a woman when it came to the mainland. Only two emotions had occupied space on her face since the time we had travelled together; an uncaring neutrality that masked very well the deep, deep anger I saw burn through much too often. I had followed her all this way assuming that was the depth of her, that her emotions towards these men and women of Lycos ran only to the layers of coldness and anger.

But after sharing her stories of her brother and the island, and looking at her in that moment as she stared down at men whose blood stained her hands, I saw something undulating beneath the surface of ice and fire that armoured her. The rage was hot and volatile, and flared out without much control, which covered daily the dead, vestigial hate I could now see with perfect clarity.