Chronicles of Fen- Cernuin Page 8

  “Why are we talkin’ about Cernuin?” Hawk piped, but wasn’t answered immediately.

  Fen looked at the layout of the marshes. “Being winter, we should have the advantage, shouldn’t we?”

  “In a way. He can’t move fast. But that doesn’t stop his magic, Fen.”

  Fen nodded.

  “I’ve got the army of Aklon prepared… they have been training for ten years.”

  Hawk rubbed his jaw, eyes wide as he listened to the king and court-mages talk. Ladon leaned over to whisper something, but he didn’t look any more comforted.

  Fen, you are going to have to tell Hawk, rather everyone, this plan to fight the gods.

  Fen looked at the captain, who was staring at him in a look of betrayal. I’ll try.

  “All right, all right...” Thaleus sighed, waving his hand. “You have the king’s blessing. Kill them, Fen. We’re counting on you to do this. You...are sure you still can, aren’t you?” His tone changed, studying him. Fen realized his weariness was probably telling, and inwardly cursed himself. Now he seemed incompetent. All because of a battle right before reaching the wards.

  Then the battle replayed in his mind, and his confidence wavered further.

  He feigned it and lifted his chin. “Of course I can. Don’t doubt me. If I can’t do it, Thaleus, then pray a swift end meets us all before the gods’ wrath.”

  Thaleus smiled and nodded. “You should get some rest. Eli will show you to the west wing, where you and your highest ranked officers will sleep.”

  Fen stood, grateful. “Appreciate it, Your Majesty.” He smiled at the title, Thaleus as well. Eli stood and motioned him to follow.

  “C’mon, pretty-boy,” she teased. “This way.”

  Fen blushed, following.

  She’s not going to stop calling you that. Fen rolled his eyes at the inner laughter.

  * * *

  Once outside of the meeting hall, Fen cleared his throat. “Court-Mage Eli, may I have a word with my captain?” Her eyes darted between them, and she gave a nod. Fen looked at Hawk and nodded for him to follow. The man did, like a ghost. For being so vocally loud, he walked quietly.

  Once far enough away, Fen faced him, arms folded. He raced for the right words as Hawk’s hands rested on his hips, looking down a hooked nose to judge him harshly.

  “Ya got all of us this way to kill some gods.”

  Fen wrinkled his nose. He nodded.

  “Does Ladon know?”

  Another nod. Hawk stiffened, a look of anguish flashing behind his eyes as he glanced over his shoulder, at the general standing in the doorway, arms folded. They were friends, Fen knew. He had to salvage it – this was his fault.

  “I ordered General Ladon not to speak of it. I said I would inform you and the troops when I feel appropriate.”

  “And when would ya do that? When we’re at Cernuin’s doorstep, clueless when a fucking god bursts out and kills us by the hundreds?”

  Fen took a few calming breaths. He’s right to be angry, Fen.

  I know, but he’s an adult.

  So are you.

  Fen rubbed his nose. “That was not the plan, either. I had hoped to prove my worth enough by the time we reached Haven, that the announcement would not be so jarring.”

  “Ya proved yourself to be a damned babe in battle. You’re pathetic,” he sneered, eyes up and down the harpy’s form. “Ya look stupid. You have no sense of leadership. It’s all about you, I’m sure. This whole trip is about ya ego.”

  Fen glared, nostrils flaring. He steeled himself, Ophelia’s voice trying desperately to keep him restrained. “If not for me, we would not have made it here.”

  “We wouldn’t have left Aklon if not for ya.”

  “General Ladon would be dead without me.”

  “Again, bitch,” Hawk stooped, nose inches from Fen, who remained stiff and glaring. “We’d still be in Aklon. He’d not be gray and scarred anyway. Face it, you’re nothing but scum. A princess mage trying to be something they could never be.” He straightened and turned to leave.

  “This mission is to save the world, Hawk.”

  Hawk didn’t respond, sending a glare at Ladon. Fen tried not to let the words seep in as he returned. I’ll make you your favorite tea tonight.

  Thanks, Ophelia.

  * * *

  Deep in the night, Fen found himself staring at the ceiling in the small chamber. He tossed, turned. Flashbacks hit him constantly. The men who died, their lifeless eyes staring blindly at him. The soldiers he’d led with half-truths. Ladon may have come to understand and find faith in the crusade - but if Hawk’s reaction was an inkling of what the rest of the army would feel…

  Unable to sleep, Fen sat up, placing his feet on the cold floor. His eyes drifted to the spider sleeping cozily on her pile of pillows. Their things had been brought up ahead of them, making the otherwise cold and empty room cozier and familiar. He carefully crossed the room to find his shirt and pull it on. Trying not to make a sound, he slipped out of the room.

  Unsure where he was going, he followed his feet thoughtlessly until finding himself at a door. Ladon’s door. The general was surely asleep, so disturbing him wouldn’t do anything to serve him. What would he say, anyway?

  Still, he found himself knocking.

  What’d you do that for? Are you stupid? He chastised himself. Silence stretched, and his pounding heart slowed. Logic rushed back and he tried to leave. See? He’s asleep. Don’t bother—

  The door creaked open, and he heard Ladon’s gruff, groggy voice. “Fen?”

  Fen froze, heart racing again and he stared. “I’m sorry, General Ladon, I don’t know what brought me here. Please, go back to sleep.”

  The man stared at him, confused. “What?”

  “I...” heat rushed into his cheeks. “I’m sorry, it...” Was he really doing this? Ladon seemed to read his hesitation.

  “Get inside.” The man pushed open the door for the harpy to enter. Fen hesitated, but then hurried in, ducking under his arm.

  The room was dimly lit with a fireplace. It smelled earthy, was warm, and he could see thick blankets on a four-poster bed. Ladon closed the door behind him and cleared his throat as he walked around and gestured to a chair. Fen sat himself on the edge, hands together and eyes on the man. Ladon wore a hastily pulled on shirt – judging by the wrinkles and open collar. He could see the scars, with green veins webbing over his right pectoral. His eyes lingered on them for a while, recalling Hawk’s words, and guilt welled within him.

  “What is it, Fen?” Ladon asked, not seeming to notice his stare. He took a seat in the chair opposite. The firelight lit the contours of half his face and body, and Fen noted a crease of concern.

  “The battle...with the ashinari...” Fen started, having difficulty finishing. He tensed, looked down, claws digging into his own skin. “I can’t forget what I saw on the ground.”

  Ladon remained quiet for a moment. He rubbed his face, eyes darting aside.

  “You were floundering a lot back there.”

  “I’m exhausted, I must sleep,” Fen pressed. “But I can’t. What do I do, Ladon? How do I go on? I am your leader, I am above you, above all in this army – but that battle more than any of the battles, showed me I am incompetent. What was I thinking? How do I push men to possible doom when I can’t be confident myself?”

  As he spoke, Ladon listened. He rubbed his beard for a moment, then heaved a sigh.

  “You are naive and have never tasted the war we’ve been in for the last thirty years,” Ladon said. “But your prowess in magic earned your rank above mine. I don’t agree with that, but I do agree with your purpose. I have seen enough of what you can do to see the possibility. You could kill a god if cornered. And I could give you that advantage. This isn’t on your shoulders alone. You said it before. We can work together well, Fen.”

  Fen swallowed, stunned. Was this just talk? “Ladon, I...” he closed his eyes, chest welling with that feeling from before. Without warnin
g, it hit him, the weight of everything.

  Their lives depended on him.

  He hung his head, holding his face as he tried to stop from weeping. His shoulders shook. He heard the other chair’s feet scrape against the floor as Ladon stood. Then a calloused, large hand gripped his bony shoulder and it ended his control. The touch flared magic buried deep inside, a magic he fought to keep at bay. He battled the thoughts as his own turmoil came rushing through his tears.

  In an instant, the intimidating, stern man turned soft and gentle. His voice carried quietly in the air, soothing him, assuring him.

  “You are strong, Fen. I’ve seen the fire in your eyes that drives you,” Ladon stated, giving his shoulder a squeeze. He knelt and Fen wanted nothing more than to lean in closer— for what? The harpy caught himself before he could act on impulse. Hugging? That wasn’t something he could do. His claws tugged on his own sleeves as he nervously plucked at himself, eyes locked on Ladon’s gaze. He hung on every word the man said.

  “I promise that this won’t be the last time you witness someone die, that you nearly die, that those you become close with may die. War is ugly, it is unceremonious, and it is final. I know we don’t have gods anymore to pray to. I grew up in a world without them. I learned that the most important person to believe in is yourself; trust yourself, keep sharp for opportunity to learn and for guidance, but do not lose faith in who you are.”

  Fen stared at him, recollecting himself as he listened. Ladon was right, and he looked aside as he let out a slow controlled breath.

  “Thank you, Ladon...” Fen leaned back and wiped his face. “I must seem juvenile compared to you.”

  “Apples to oranges. I shoot a gun. You throw a magic. We’re different, not better or worse.”

  Fen smiled crookedly, leaning on his elbow now. “Kind of like...wine and tea.”

  He scratched his head. “Wine and tea? Who says wine and tea?”

  “I mean, I don’t like wine, but tea is great.”

  Ladon stared at him, and he stared back unblinkingly. Then he laughed, breaking the tension. His cheeks pulled back in a smile of his own, and he chuckled with the general.

  “Do you want a drink,” Ladon asked, standing up. “Or are you better now?”

  “I’m...I think better.” Fen stood with the man and looked up at him. He only stood a couple inches taller, and where before he seemed intimidating, now he wasn’t so much. A feeling welled within. He couldn’t grasp a word for it. Friend? Yeah. That. His chest warmed.

  “I’ll summon you and Hawk to the meeting room tomorrow after breakfast, and we’ll go over the next objective.”

  “All right, Fen.” He opened the door for him. “Take care.”

  Fen paused as he left. “Uh...thanks, you too. And, I’m...sorry for this. I’m...I don’t like to show...”

  “You don’t have to say. I understand. This is new to you. And it is dangerous being naive to it. For that, Fen,” Ladon grew stern, leaning against the door frame and looking intently at him, “don’t hide things if they could be important. I’ve been fighting for years. I know how to face every monster out there. I’m your general, and you need to trust me.”

  The directness caught him off guard, but the harpy nodded. “Of course, Ladon. You will know everything. I assure you.” He smiled. “...see you, then.”

  The beard shifted, and he saw the man smile back.

  “See you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Snow flurried across the sky, looking beautiful and calm. Ladon admired it, pausing to stare at the huge airy flakes falling by the thousands, from a dark blue sky. Soft lights dotted the city, reminding him of floating orbs. It was serene. One could almost forget there were monsters waiting beyond the wards, waiting to kill every last bit of life.

  Life.

  He’d hardly put thought to it, as he buttoned up his shirt, but more than humans were in this fight for survival. Birds were few, except in cities. Horses, dogs, and cats were all that was left of their domesticated animals – forcing them to learn how to cultivate plants in varying conditions. Given the height of their technology just before the Fall, it was feasible – but disease killed the pigs, made the cows infertile. Cernuin was responsible for that, or so the former priests lamented.

  Fortunately they could survive well and fine without the heavy animals, but it didn’t come without outcry and fear of starvation. Mages saved the seeds, had archived ways of cultivation, and many had studied it in the vast libraries. Things most humans bypassed as something promised to be available for their needs in packaged, clean units within shops.

  Such a change it had been. He could remember being a child, hearing the desperation for food among the lower class – his class. Would they be reduced to mere potatoes and bread crumbs, facing malnutrition? But no.

  His eyes drifted to a tower standing huge and alone near the edge of his vision – still attached to a network of buildings that reached the fortress he resided in now. The mages saved them. They remained a segregated class, but they owed them their survival.

  “What an odd twist of fate,” he mumbled, now finished with dressing. Clean shirt, clean trousers, even his boots were clean. He tightened his belt, frowning as he realized he’d lost weight since they’d left Aklon.

  What are you talking about, human?

  He paused. Did he just hear a voice in his head? He looked up to the mirror and yelped when a giant, black, hairy spider stared back over his shoulder. He whirred around, instinctively reaching for a gun that wasn’t there.

  “Ophelia?” He remained tense, not sure why the spider would have sneaked into his room.

  “You heard me in your head? I knew it!” The eight eyes gleamed in – joy? He couldn’t read expressions of a spider well, but her voice was anything but threatening. He relaxed a little.

  “Yeah – why was that?” he asked flatly, taking a comb and turning to the mirror to tidy the beard. He should have trimmed it at least before dressing. Tomorrow.

  “Because of Fen’s blood,” she hummed. “You think drinking something innately tuned with magic isn’t going to affect a human? He’s wanting to study it, but doesn’t want to admit he could be affecting you. Poor thing gets so conflicted sometimes.”

  Ladon blinked, pausing and turn around. “Surely the changes won’t be much.”

  “I’m not sure. If you can hear me, that means enough has changed that you’re not human anymore.”

  He stiffened. “Fen mentioned that once.”

  “But he needs to follow up more. Look at you.” Her fuzzy leg reached to touch his hair. He swatted it away, stepping back, and touched his own hair.

  “It’s the same.”

  “Yes, but you’re stone-gray now. It’s pretty.”

  He frowned.

  “Hey, I find that nice.”

  He rolled his eyes and turned his head, sighing. He folded his arms. “I don’t feel different though. But I see it. I’m not the same.”

  “You may start feeling different in time, the more treatment you receive.”

  He grimaced. “I admire Fen’s ability to keep me alive, but...I’d rather a cure.”

  “I think there could be a way.” The spider shrunk enough to crawl along his bed, to the wall, and got comfortable on the ceiling nearest the chandelier. Ladon stared at it. If he were ten years younger, he’d be rather unsettled by now. It was hard to comprehend the spider was so...sentient.

  “You do?” He furrowed his brow. “Does Fen?”

  “No.” She preened herself. “This is a matter of him facing the gods one on one and actually talking to them. He harbors much hate in his heart toward them.”

  “His reason is sound. They didn’t even try to look for him before slaughtering everyone.”

  “It goes beyond their overreaction, right down to his very bones. Fen wasn’t always a harpy – you know this?”

  “He mentioned something about it.” He tried to follow. Was he blaming them for his circumstance? For being
...cursed? “Fen blamed them?”

  “Yes. His curse isn’t just to have feathers and look so delectable to human eyes – he’s got a monstrous side that hides beneath. The true harpy is not pretty, it isn’t soft, and it isn’t kind. There are no thoughts when the Instinct takes over. And it haunts him. Since he was ten years old. His quest to kill the gods is more an act of vengeance on a life he was robbed, than to help the world recover. But it’s a good side effect, so he has been granted blessings by the last kings to do whatever must be done.”

  “You don’t think he should, though.” Ladon assumed; why else would she mention this?

  She chuckled.

  “Of course I don’t. I wouldn’t be concerned for you otherwise. My burden is that I care for him like a son I never had. I love him. I want him to be loved. But I want most, what you want. A cure for the cursed.”

  Ladon looked down at the gray skin of his hand and reflected on Fen.

  “So you think the gods would reverse...all curses...if given the opportunity?”

  “I do. We have four gods to convince Fen to try.”

  “You think I can help at all?”

  “Course I do. You’re handsome. Strong. Smart. And he’s developed a bit of a crush on you. Keep it between us, dear, he’s just lonely. Ever since Melody, he’s been so cold. This is the warmest I’ve seen him since.”

  He was thankful for the low light and his beard; his cheeks were undoubtedly red. He reflected on the vulnerability he showed last night. How badly I wanted to hold him. He frowned.

  “I can tell he’s lonely. Nothing new there.” He wanted to ask about this Melody, but decided against it. It wasn’t her place to say, nor his to ask.

  She sighed, stringing a web down and stood as tall as he.

  “The meeting is beginning soon. Just keep what I suggested in your thoughts. Consider it. If you choose not to convince him to talk to the gods, then that is fine. Either way, the world will be saved.”

  At least she still believed they could kill them. Ladon harbored doubts.