Kion

Kion tried to open his eyes. It was surprisingly difficult. He felt weak and his body was hot, burning with a fever. “…what?”

Something or someone slapped his face, sending a sharp pain through his cheek.

“Are you awake now,” a dark voice asked from somewhere above him. “Or do I need to slap you some more?”

His face hurt but the pain brought some clarity. Blinking a couple of times, Kion’s field of vision became slowly a bit sharper.

Apparently, he was lying on the ground. Above him he could see a canopy of green, swaying leisurely in a breeze. A couple rays of sunlight broke through here and there. What am I doing here? Kion thought.

His mind was still foggy, and it took it a while to catch up with the impressions he received from his senses. Trying to remember what he’d been doing last, he closed his eyes again. Half a heartbeat later he felt the burn of another slab on his cheek.

“Hey, stay awake!”

“I am,” Kion mumbled, leaning his head to the site to see his torturer. A single ray of sunlight blinded him as he made out a face leaning over him. Then the face was gone, and he heard the shuffling of feet on the forest floor. Strong hands slid under his shoulders and pulled him backward.

A moment later Kion found himself sitting up, his back leaning against a hard surface. A tree? He wasn’t sure. When he was about to ask, something was pressed against his lips and water flowed into his mouth.

Kion drank eagerly, only now realizing how parched he was.

“Slowly,” the voice said.

The advice came too late and Kion started to cough, spluttering water over his chin.

“Told you.” The mouthpiece was pulled away. “How can somebody die of thirst right next to a stream?” A heavy hand was pressed against Kion’s forehead.

“I…I didn’t think of it,” Livadios' voice said from somewhere to Kion’s left.

Feeling some of his strength and clarity returning Kion whipped the spittle from his mouth. He didn’t like to be touched by strangers, but he didn’t have the strength to push the hand away.

“That’s quite the fever,” the voice said. The hand disappeared and for the first time, Kion could see the figure kneeling next to him.

The man was at least in his fifties, maybe even older. There was grey in his hair and beard, but his shoulders were brought and strong. He had a somewhat asymmetrical face with features that were clearly Helcenaean.

“Licen…the elder?” Kion asked with a croaked voice.

“Yes,” the man said. He raised his arm and dangled his grandchild’s pouch in front of Kion’s face. “Tell me how you got this?”

Kion hesitated. Licen the elder was the tribesman’s family. How would he react if he learned what had happened? “…Licen gave it to me. He said you would recognize this. And help me.”

The old man raised an eyebrow. “Did he now? And how come the arrogant boy thinks he can promise other people’s favor?”

It didn’t seem like this conversation was going well. There was no way to tell what the relationship between Licen and his grandfather was. Kion tried to think of the best way to handle the situation, but he realized that he lacked the strength to focus. And I don’t know what Livadios already told him or will once I pass out, he thought. So he just shrugged. “He said, if I bested him, I should take the pouch and seek you out.”

The old man’s other eyebrow rose as well. “And you did? Did you kill him?”

“No.”

“I told you…” Livadios began to say but Licen silenced him with a single glance.

He studied Kion quietly for a while. There was a piercing depth to his eyes. Kion had never felt such pressure from another man’s gaze since he’d been brought before the sar for the first time.

“I tripped him,” he said. “He fell and hit his head on a rock in the stream.”

“That’s all?” Licen the elder asked, his face unreadable.

“I also cut his face. Before, that is. Half his ear came off.” Kion had no idea if sharing this was a good idea. It didn’t matter anymore. The fogginess was creeping back and he could feel that he was close to losing consciousness again. Either the old man would decide to help them or not.

“The boy was quite fond of his face.” A spark of approval appeared in Licen’s eyes. “Still, it looks like you paid a prize for your victory. Your arm is badly broken.”

“He doesn’t get all the credit,” Kion murmured. “I fell on it once or twice after he broke it.”

Was that a smile? Kion wasn’t sure. His consciousness was slipping.

“I can help you,” Kion heard the old man say as his eyes slowly closed, “but I am not a healer. If I help you, I will do it my way. Do you consent to this?”

“Sure,” Kion said. Then it became dark.

When searing hot pain cut into his arm his eyes flew open. The world above him was dark. The tree branches with their green leaf and the blue sky were gone.

More pain flooded through him, and he screamed. He tried to rise but found that he couldn’t. He couldn’t move at all. His whole body seemed to be bound down, ropes cutting into his skin as he strained against them. The next wave of pain was too much for his mind to bear and his cloudy vision became dark again.

“Wake up.” A familiar voice said from somewhere. It took Kion a while to realize it wasn’t part of his dream. Until just now he’d been chased through the forest by Assanaten warriors who all had Licen’s speed and strength.

Somebody shook him gently. “Can you open your eyes?”

Not wanting to go back to the forest, Kion made an effort. It was strange how hard it was to simply open his eyelids. He had to blink a couple of times until he adjusted to the light.

“You look worse than before. How do you feel?” Licen the elder was leaning over him. “Let me help you.”

Strong hands reached under Kion, helping him to sit up until his back was supported by a wall. He felt so weak, he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to move on his own. To his surprise, Licen treated him with careful care, even stuffing a pillow behind his back.

Kion rested against it to recover from the exertion of just scooting back a bit and looked around. He was sitting on a wooden cot, inside a large room. The light from numerous braziers shone against the walls and a ceiling of natural stone. “A cave?” Kion’s voice was low and weak.

“Wait,” Licen said turning around. He walked to a table in the center of the room. “You need to drink some more. And once you have recovered a bit, you need to eat.”

His gaze following his host, Kion’s eyes rested on the table’s legs. What he saw made him frown and take a closer look at the rest of the furniture around him. At first glance, they seemed simple and sparse. But now that he paid attention, he saw intricate carvings and beautiful paintings on every piece. He’d stood guard in the palace long enough to understand what his betters valued. He couldn’t see a difference between the objects in this room and those in Nassar-Zeribona’s private quarters. If anything, they look better, he thought confused. How could such things exist in a cave in a valley so far away from the next city?

Licen returned to his side, pressing a simple clay cup into his right hand. “Can you drink on your own?”

Kion tried to lift his arm and found that he could manage. The fluid was warm and tasted weird.

The old man must have noticed his reaction. “It’s warm wine mixed with herbs. They will suppress the pain until you’re ready to eat.” He placed the pitcher on the table next to the cot and walked to another corner of the room.

“I…I don’t feel any pain,” Kion said, speaking his thoughts out loud. Weak, yes, and slightly drowsy from the drink Licen had given him. But there was almost no pain.

“I shoved some of that stuff into you when you were passed out,” Licen said, without turning around. “You were waking up every so often, screaming like a wounded sow.”

As his senses came back more and more, Kion looked down on himself. He was naked except for thick bandages wrapped around his left arm. It felt numb and swollen when he lifted it. “It feels heavy.”

“It should,” Licen said, watching Kion carefully testing his mobility.

Does he look younger? Kion thought, glancing at his host. His memory was a bit blurry but he seemed to remember his host having more grey in his beard. “When can I take off the bandage?”

Licen leaned forward, examining the tightly wrapped cloth. “We can take it off and have a look. There has been no pus since yesterday.”

Kion gapped. Even if set perfectly, his bone should take a long time to heal. He had already fretted over the time it would take him to rebuild his muscle, presuming he was left with enough mobility to continue using the spear.

Licen stepped back and crossed his arms. Looking expectantly, he left the task to Kion.

Confused but hopeful, Kion began the unwrapping. It took a moment to find the knot at his shoulder and a little longer to untie it with only one hand. From there the cloth came off quickly, falling into his lab in long bands.

When the final layer fell away, he held his arm in front and carefully opened and closed his fist. Again he noticed how heavy his arm felt. But it moves, he thought, unable to quite believe it. He carefully rotated the arm, fingering his biceps at the place where Licen’s grandchild had broken it first.

His fingertips found the sutures before his eyes. Following it, he noticed that it ran from his shoulder all the way down to his wrist.

“Sewing is one craft, I never spend much time on,” Licen said, tilting his head. “But it looks like it’s mostly even.” Satisfied, he turned and walked towards the chamber’s entrance. “Move it carefully, until you have grown strong enough to carry the additional weight.”

Still mystified by his healed, pain-free arm it took Kion a couple of heartbeats to comprehend. “…what do you mean?”

Turning half around, Licen waved in the direction of his arm. “Metal is heavier than bone. You need to build the muscle to carry it. I don’t want the arm to rip off after I put all the work in.” He turned away and left the chamber.

Kion stared after him, unable to understand what the old man had said. Weighing his left arm in his right hand, it felt heavier. He could also feel a light straining on his shoulder muscles.

Realizing he wouldn’t get any answers from lying around, he pushed his legs over the edge of the cot. Standing up to fast he almost fell over. Shiny black dots filled his field of vision and he had to take a moment to blink them away. When was the last time he had a proper meal?

Once he’d found his balance, he drew the blanket around his waist and carefully took his first wobbly step. Placing one foot in front of the other, he made his way to the cave wall. Once he was able to lean against the cold stone for support, he walked with a little more confidence. Still after less than ten paces from the cot, he had to take a break to recover.

This is a bad idea, he thought. He was weak and his host hadn’t given him permission to roam around freely. Considering that he’d saved not just Kion’s life but also his arm, snooping after him was extremely rude. Yet, he couldn’t help it, waking up in such a strange foreign place, in the darkness of a cave. He had to orientate himself – to understand what was going on.

When he reached the entrance, he found it led to a corridor. Shoulder-high braziers placed every twenty paces produced a limited amount of light. To the right, the corridor curved making it impossible to see where it was leading. To the left, it ended in a doorway. Through it, Kion thought he could see the white shine of daylight. Attracted by the prospect of sunlight, he decided on that direction.

It took him a while to cover the distance. Holding on to the wall with one arm, he still had to take breaks every couple of steps to gather his strength.

Kion wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but the more time passed, the stranger his left arm felt. Dangling from his shoulder, its weight seemed to tug on him, disturbing his balance. Or you’re just imagining things, Kion thought, wiggling the fingers of his left. He still couldn’t fathom that he could move his arm already. But then, he had no idea how long it had been since Licen had found him in the forest. Several days at least. More than a week? He just didn’t know.

Stepping into the doorway, his thoughts were pushed aside by the impression of what lay before him. The chamber was large with a high ceiling. Every corner housed a different workbench, all filled with countless tools, many of which Kion had never seen before. There was even a forge surrounded by dozens of casting forms.

But what really caught his attention was the huge hole on one side of the room, letting daylight flood inside. Crossing the room Kion could feel the wind blowing into the cave through the opening. It was almost as high as he was and nearly eight paces across. In the distance, mountain peaks filled the horizon. We’re high up, Kion thought, stepping closer to the knee-high ledge.

The sides of the hole looked like beeswax somebody had melted a ten-paces deep hole through. He hesitantly touched the site of the opening. Despite its weirdly even surface, it felt just like stone. As if it had molten and hardened again.

“I haven’t decided what to do about that yet,” a voice said behind him.

Startled, Kion turned around.

Licen and Livadios stood in the doorway, their arms filled with food. The older man nodded towards a table in a corner. “If you can walk, you need to eat.”

Kion didn’t show his relief that his host didn’t seem to be upset with his intrusion and followed the invitation. Letting himself down on a sturdy wooden bench, he accepted the plate Licen handed him. There was cold meat, goat cheese, bread, olives, and other things he knew as typical for Helcenaean tastes.

“It’s good to see you back on your feed,” Livadios said, his face showing genuine relief. “I was very worried.”

Kion nodded toward his newest companion before turning back to their host. “How did that happen?” he asked, pointing at the hole while eagerly pushing food into his mouth. He was famished, which was no wonder if he’d been unconscious for multiple days.

Licen cut slices of dried meat and placed them on Kion’s plate. “We tried to build a…bridge you could say. But it snapped almost immediately.”

Kion tilted his head while chewing. “You wanted to build a bridge out there?” He tried to imagine what a bridge leading from one mountain to another would look like but failed.

“No,” Licen said, glancing over his shoulder. “The bridge…how to explain this to a mortal?” His eyes unfocused as he thought. “The bridge led in a direction that’s invisible to you,” he finally said, gesturing towards the ceiling with his knife. “That,” the knife pointed over his shoulder, “happened when it snapped and that fool got slung across the room. Left a chunk of himself behind, too.” He shook his head and continued to cut the meat. “Took me days to clean it all up afterward.”

Kion understood very little from his host’s explanation. Only one part stuck out to him. “You called me a mortal.”

“Hm?”

“Just now,” Kion said. “You said, how to explain it to a mortal.”

Licen looked from Kion to Livadios with a raised eyebrow. “What did that useless fool say before he sent you here.”

Livadios quickly lowered his eyes and busied himself with his own plate.

Kion swallowed the rest of his last bite before answering. “Nothing.” He’d already decided to stick with honesty. “I don’t think he believed there was a chance I would beat him.”

“Ha,” the old man, who somehow didn’t really look like an old man anymore, said. “Looks like having my blood running through his veins made him arrogant. That happens when everything comes easy to you. His mother is different. The most talented seamstress since she was little. I thought about sending her to the islands to learn but she met a handsome hunter and that was that.” He rolled his eyes. “I hope you enjoy the foot, by the way. That’s the last of the good stuff. The Helcenaean haven’t offered anything lately. After that, it’s all game, berries, and honey from the tribe.”

Despite the food and drink Kion’s throat felt dry. “Are you…the god Horto?” It couldn’t be. The idea that he, Kion, an insignificant warrior who didn’t even know his parents was sharing a meal with a divine being was ridiculous. Even if it was just a local deity nobody beyond the valley had ever heard of.

Livadios kept his eyes on his plate but Kion noted that he didn’t show any sign of surprise.

Their host just sat there, chewing his own food. “No,” he finally said.

Something like relief flooded through Kion. His arm, this cave – these things were fantastic, but it had still been farfetched.

“I took over from him, though,” Licen said. “I was looking for a quiet place to get away from the family and he had this valley.” He began to fill his own plate with bread and cheese. “Remote. A spacious cave with a good view. A small people to deliver offerings. I traded him a full set of metal armor and weapons for it. The poor guy was carrying around a stone club, can you believe that?” Shaking his head, Licen pushed an olive into his mouth. “Anyway, he went south. Probably to conquer himself a better realm. That was…well, way before you were born.”

Kion had stopped chewing. And breathing. He could only stare at the man sitting across the table. No, he thought. Not a man. When Licen looked up from his food he quickly averted his eyes. “So,” he started to say but then realized that he hadn’t formed a coherent thought yet. It wasn’t easy to comprehend what he’d just heard. There were countless tales and legends about gods. Some told of fantastic events like the beginning of the world. Others were quite human. Stories of love, jealousy, and strife. But he hadn’t been prepared to hear a god say that he traded a set of armor for a valley and a people over a diner table.

And then another thought struck him. “So when your grandson said we were of the blood, he meant, the blood of…a god.”

“I guess,” Licen said, ripping another piece of the loaf of Helcenaean bread.

“I’m descended from a god?” It couldn’t be true. He was just a street urchin. Everything good in his life had come from the goddess’s grace.

Licen frowned. Then he blinked and his eyes changed. The pupils disappeared and light seemed to glow from inside the white. He blinked again and the light faded away while his pupils returned. “Barely. Lots of mortals have mixed ancestry. My people are not the only ones who take a mate from your kind from time to time. With the short time you live and the speed with which you multiply, the blood thins quickly. It’s rare that a descendant manifests a talent so far down the generations. You’re lucky.”

The casual tone with which Licen, the god, spoke did little to dampen the impact his words had. It took Kion an effort of will to focus on the here and now. You still have a mission, he thought, reminding himself of his duty. If he lived long enough, he could figure out his feelings later.

“I am grateful for the help you provided me,” he said. “It might be improper, but may I ask you for another favor.”

“Sure,” Licen said, without looking up from his plate

“I came here to learn the fate of the magus Mel’Chor,” Kion said. “He reached the valley shortly before the Assanaten invaded.” He repeated everything he’d learned from Livadios. Licen listened while eating, his face giving no hint about his thoughts. Only when the story came to Mel’Chor’s and Livadios’ encounter with the mysterious mist, Kion noticed hesitation in the other’s posture.

When he’d finished, the god didn’t respond right away. Instead, Licen used his thump to clean the last crumbs from his plate and stuff them into his mouth. When he was done, he leaned back and crossed his arms. “If this Mel’Chor is as powerful as you say, he probably has his ways to hide even within my realm. This encounter you had with whatever that mist was, I wouldn’t have missed that. But then again, I was very distracted at the time.” He looked over his shoulder towards the hole in the cave wall. “Was it stable enough for something to come through?” he murmured.

Kion waited anxiously. How would this foreign god react to something like this happening in his domain? There was no way to tell how much he cared about what was going on in the valley. The Assanaten were fierce worshippers of the god Assan, but Licen had given no indication that he minded their intrusion. Kion wondered why he didn’t. Tatros knew him as a fellow Helcenaean. Doesn’t that mean he is a Helcenaean god? Kion thought. And yet, he hadn’t intervened on their behalf.

He shook his head lightly. It wasn’t on him to understand what moved gods.

“I will go and look for Tatros and Atissa later,” Licen said, rising. “While I do, I can have a look around for the magus.”

“The girl’s name is Ditsa,” Kion said. Seeing Licen frown, he quickly went through his memories. “They mentioned an Atissa. Tatros said she left the valley with an embassy to seek help from Riadnos. They took a boat.”

Licen’s eyes became unfocused. “I didn’t notice her leave,” he murmured. He looked pensive, almost worried to Kion. Suddenly, he turned on the spot and headed for the doorway. “I’m leaving.” In the doorway, he looked back one more time. “Don’t go close to the forge. And don’t sit on the throne,” he waved to a large stone chair in a corner, “unless you want to sit there until I’m back.” He looked around the room. “I guess it’s best if you don’t touch anything. Go back to bed and rest some more.” He nodded to himself, about to turn away again.

“Did you bring my armor and spear when you brought me here,“ Kion asked quickly. He felt exposed without his weapons close by.

“That’s gone,” the god said, walking out. “That’s what I used for the new bones in your arm.”