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Chapter Text

“You’re getting faster, Alexios.”

Kassandra grunted as his sword met her spear and launched it to her left. She shifted onto her back foot, swiftly using the force of his blow to glance her spear into a jab. He wasn’t quite ready for it, falling back into instinctive movements to avoid her. She knew these movements.

Next, he would aim low, centering his gravity. Then, he wouldn’t jab, but swing into her calves, giving her no opening to attack.

She knew this, and reacted by launching high, aiming for where his shoulder would be.

But he wasn’t there. He was to her left, already reaching around to slice her spear arm. Unshielded, but unfazed, she relaxed into his movement, fluidly avoiding the graze waiting for her. She shoulder charged him, knocking his hands aside and disarming him.

She’d stopped short of threatening his heart with her spear, and instead poked his chest with her finger, imitating the action.

“You lose again, little brother.”

He smirked, batting her hand away.

“If we used our grandfather’s weapons, I would win,” he said through heavy breaths.

“Yes, but only because I don’t have particularly defensive use of the spear.”

Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, Alexios picked up his water skin. Kassandra collected their weapons. They had been permitted to use the training grounds for their spars on condition of keeping it clean. Kassandra was still very weary of Spartans watching them: her’s and Alexios’ technique was unique, and she didn’t quite trust that neither of them would be subject to a conflict with Sparta in the future.
Despite her misgivings, they needed somewhere to train: Myrinne had forbidden them from sparring at home partly due to the broken furniture and partly because it brought back painful memories of when Alexios was lost to them.

They started walking back to the house, with a cool breeze lifting their hair. The populace of Sparta gave them a wide berth, except for the children. The children had not yet gained their parents’ wariness of the siblings’ skill, but instead spread rumours that their weapons hid sweets. Kassandra effectively encouraged these rumours, producing the goods out of her loosened greaves. Happily chirping around them, the children create an effective barrier to the whispers that followed them.

They’re the children of Gods.

He’s Ares reborn.

She’s the seer that our songs tell of.

The Oracle called them the end of Sparta.

Kassandra was never one for friends, but when she entered a tavern, people left. It stung her, especially since the only associates she had in Lakonia were her family. Sometimes, she wished she had more.

Alexios didn’t care. He’d never had anyone, so everyone he had was simply a bonus.

When they reached the house, a piece of parchment was resting on the table.

“That’s for you, lamb,” their mother called from the garden.

“Which lamb?” Kassandra asked, picking up the paper and fingering the seal.

“Kassandra.”

Alexios threw her a relieved look and retreated upstairs, likely to sharpen his weapons. He didn’t often receive letters, but the cult had followers which weren’t necessarily influential enough to be in Kassandra’s sights. They remembered Deimos; remembered his power. They wanted that power back.

Kassandra usually dispatched them without mentioning it.

She opened the parchment, and read the job request. Seemed simple enough: find a fugitive and return them. The job was in Makedonia, so it better pay well. She fingered the edge of the letter, thinking.

It was a basic job. It wouldn’t require much preparation or very specific skills. It wouldn’t even require any combat, if she played it right.

She walked upstairs to her brother.

“Hey,” she said, standing in the doorway. “Do you want to come on a job with me? It’ll be fairly simple: catch and release, a fugitive that needs finding.” She was fumbling over her words now, nervous that she was putting too much pressure on him.

“Yes,” he said, surprised. “But can I pack a shield?”

Chapter Text

She’d not been this far north for a while. The wind chilled, calling the birds home. Their wings lighted the trees, driving a frenzy to prepare for the coming winter. The siblings had less preparation, and less need to stay. Kassandra wondered how long this would take; both the journey and the task. Whispers had already reached them of the wily adversary awaiting them. Whether this was spread in response to his antics, or spread by the man himself, Kassandra didn’t know. Something in the tone of them made her think they would be crushed under the gaze of a critical eye.

On the way, they had to buy Alexios new armour. He was fitted for a dark leather chestplate and greaves, the smith commenting on his impressive range of movement. His shoulders were bare, adjusting for his newly developing technique. Kassandra thought he looked larger than he had in the past two years: not the lean fighter that had joined them, but almost a picture of health. He looked up as he was being measured for the plate, saw her smiling, and made a face at her. She rolled her eyes and wandered off to explore the rest of the market. She went first to the weaver, and stroked the available fabric. She knew what she was looking for: a shawl, of any colour, made of a velvet or similar. It was silly, but even if he didn’t want to wear it in a similar fashion to her, he could probably find a use for it.

She made her way back to the inn, her pockets much lighter than they had been earlier. Alexios wasn’t there, so she placed his new shawl on his cot, arranging it into a circle so he knew what it was when he came in. She then started packing her rucksack for the journey across Malis: there weren’t many towns between here and their goal.

Alexios came in a few minutes later. “The smith had a chestplate already which fit me, in the same style. He’ll have to make the greaves, though. I paid extra so they’d be ready tomorrow.” She nodded in response, waiting for him to notice the shawl. She was nervous, thinking it probably too silly.

“Did you buy this?” he asked quietly.

She turned and looked at him. He was holding the fabric in his hands, taking in the red of the dye and the golden trim.

“Yes.” She said. “I wear a similar one. I thought … look I know it’s silly, I just thought it might be nice to, I don’t know, match, I guess. Like a duo.” She stopped; his face was impassive, medusa’s victim. After an age, he looked at her.

“Will you help me put it on?”

She smiled in relief, nodded, and draped it over him. She clipped it along each shoulder in a masculine style, slightly different to her own one-shouldered placement.

“We’re a team now, Alexios,” she said. “I want everyone to know that you’re my brother.” She leaned into his shoulder: it seemed important, at this point in time, to give him a loving touch. He was still getting used to it, just as she was, but if not in a time like this, then when?

“Thank you, Kassandra.”

--------

They had their furs on as they rode further into the mountains. Night was falling fast, and Kassandra didn’t like the idea of sleeping in this wind. Phobos needed little direction, but Alexios’ new stead was flightier. The consistent buzz of Alexios calming his horse became a part of the environment, and Kassandra was only alerted when she heard its absence. She was at least twenty yards ahead of him. He had stopped, and was looking to the north-east.

“Look there!” he called, pointing. She turned her head and saw what he did: a large house at the top of a hill. “Do you think we can stop there for the night?”

She looked at it. Two stories, with a few out-buildings. If they paid, they may be able to sleep with the pigs: no one would allow two obvious fighters into their home without payment.

She nodded, and they headed down the hill and across the valley until they dismounted just outside the front gate. They then disarmed, with Alexios keeping his paring knife at his hip, and Kassandra her spear at her back. They aimed to pose little threat: but they were strangers to this area.

Alexios knocked first, to no reply. Kassandra stood back, waiting, but the house was silent.

“I’ll go and check the barn,” Alexios said. “Maybe they’ll open to a woman knocking instead of me.” Kassandra didn’t think anyone was home, so sat on the stone next to the front door.

“We just want shelter for a night,” she called. “We aren’t armed, and we’re happy to sleep with the pigs.”

She heard shuffling inside the house, and placed footsteps on stone. Small footsteps, those of a small woman or a large child. Perhaps Alexios was right, and he was too imposing to be welcome. She laughed to herself: he was definitely the less dangerous of the two.

“We are just passing through,” she tried again. “If you’d like, I can leave some drachma at the door and we can settle in the barn. We will be gone by daybreak, and you need not even open your door.”

A shuffle, then a slide of iron on wood. The door swung open.

She stood up and took in their host. He was a tall man, with threadbare clothing and an open expression.

“Good evening, friend,” she began. “We would be grateful for your hospitality.”

“How many of you are there?” the man asked, looking behind her.

“Just two,” she replied. “Myself and my brother. We will pay you for the shelter, and more if you’re willing to supply us with a warm meal.”

“Yes, yes,” he replied impatiently, still searching behind her. She looked over her shoulder, wondering what he was hoping to see.

“Well, I’ll just go and fetch my brother. Thank you.”

After they had been settled in the barn, with their warm food, Kassandra turned her mind to the man and woman in the house. He’d seemed almost afraid, but not of her, something else. They hadn’t responded when they’d knocked, but once identified, they’d been happy to provide hospitality.

“Do you think they know this Alec guy?” Alexios asked, swallowing his broth.

“I don’t know,” Kassandra replied. She hadn’t really been thinking of the fugitive at all. “We could always ask, though they seemed very flighty. I don’t know if they’re necessarily hiding anything. Do you think they know why we’re in the area?”

“I don’t think so, which is why we could probably ask.”

Kassandra nodded in response. “We’ll ask in the morning,” she said.

--------

This time, Kassandra knocked. “Good day,” she said when the man answered the door. “Thank you for the shelter, what price were you after for the stay?”

Alexios grimaced at her: he’d wanted to launch straight into questioning, but Kassandra knew better than to not grease the questions with coin.

“Fifty,” the man answered, crossing his arms.

“Fifty,” Kassandra replied, only mildly annoyed. It was basically a bit of bread and some hay, in the end.

“Or, seventy and information about these parts,” Alexios ventured. He was leaning against the side of the house, legs crossed and arms about his head. His eyes were closed: a vision of disinterest.

“Depends on the information,” the man said in reply.

“Alec of Makedonia,” Kassandra said, removing her coin purse from her hip.

“Alec?” the man said, suddenly staring at them very intently, flustered. “I don’t know an Alec.”

“Your reaction says differently,” Alexios said, standing upright and glaring at the man.

The man backed into his house, arms raised in a defensive stance. He was unarmed, but Kassandra did not know if this would remain the same should he reach the living room. The siblings followed him, crowding the door. Sparsely furnished, the room had no obvious weapon caches. Kassandra turned her attention to Alexios, and stood back, enabling him to take the lead on this one. The man knew something, and the siblings were sick of the cold of the north.

Alexios reached for the man’s clothes, pulling him towards him.

“Tell me what you know,” he said.

“Nothing!” the man said.

Liar, Kassandra thought. She scoped the rest of the room, searching for the source of the smaller footsteps from last night. She knew that there was someone else here.

“Tell me!” Alexios growled, lifting the man to his feet.

“No!” the man shouted. Alexios released him.

“If not you, then what about your companion? We heard two sets of footsteps last night, one yours, the other, smaller and lighter. Are you hiding someone, friend?” Kassandra asked.

The man looked at her, terrified. She softened, always hating that gleam in people’s eyes. She only relished it in the eyes of people who deserved it: not in those who may not.

“Just tell us what we want to know. We’re not going to harm him, just return him to his employer. It’s just a job, for us.” He didn’t look convinced, and Kassandra glanced at Alexios to drop him. “Look,” she began, kneeling to the man’s level. “We’re just looking to get paid for his return. If you know where he is, it’ll mean that we can settle this sooner, and our tempers won’t be as flayed as if it took us more time to find him. We just want to talk to him, it’s still possible for him to return of his own volition.” She attempted a smile, but it would likely seem like a grimace to the man currently on the ground.

She had lost track of Alexios as she had been speaking, and a young woman’s scream alerted her to the fact that he was no longer in the room. He returned, holding the wrist of a girl not yet marriageable. She knew that he wasn’t holding her tightly, and his own eyes betrayed his unsurety, but she still shuddered at the sight of it.

“No!” the man screamed, getting to his feet. Alexios released her, and the two people cowed together before the siblings. Kassandra knew things were getting out of hand.

“Now, tell us about Alec,” Alexios said, standing to his height. Kassandra waited.

When the man had no response, Alexios leant down to the girl.

“If your father does not tell us about our quarry, there will be consequences,” he said, forcing his voice into the girl’s face. The man again did not respond, and Alexios took this as permission to lift the girl from the ground.

“Alexios,” Kassandra quietly warned. Her tone was sharp, attempting to bring him back to himself. She didn’t want this to be where she again lost him, after so much progress. Perhaps it was too early to put him into such high-stress situations.

“Tell me what you know!” he yelled, shaking the girl.

“Alexios,” Kassandra said again, louder this time.

“Alec frequents the tavern,” the man said, terror in his eyes.

Alexios released the girl and she scurried back to her father. He pressed her against his chest, breathing hard.

“See,” Alexios said through clenched teeth. “Was that so hard?” He left the house, and walked down the hill.

Kassandra emptied her coin purse in front of the man.

“My apologies,” she said, over the noise of the coin. “Please, accept my apology.”

After that she turned, following her brother.

When she found him, he was at the stream at the bottom of the valley, having removed his leathers in a fit of annoyance.

“I don’t like wearing armour,” he said, breathless. “It’s too constricting. I don’t … I don’t like how it makes me feel.”

Kassandra picked up the pieces of armour that he had abandoned, including his new shawl. Her annoyance had increased ten-fold since leaving the house.

“You can’t do that to people,” she said to him. “You can’t accept hospitality and then flaunt it to get what you want. It isn’t right.”

“We needed the information. I want to go home, and it was the quickest way to get it.” He was almost yelling now.

Kassandra knew she shouldn’t take the bait, but she’d had a hard journey too, and they were essentially no closer to their prize.

“You do know that, in terms of information that man could have given, he gave the most generic and un-useful answer to your question that we may as well hadn’t asked? Every man and his bloody dog frequents a tavern! That’s what they’re there for! To frequent!”

“But now we know he does!”

“And you hurt a little girl to get useless information! Which tavern, Alexios? You couldn’t even find out that!”

She shoved him then, into the creek. He rose to his feet, and dove into her side, driving her backwards. They wrestled for a minute or two, until they both ended up on their arses in the wet mud.

“You went too far,” Kassandra said through heavy breaths.

“And you never go far enough,” he replied. He stood up and collected his new leathers, now drenched in water. “I’m going to the tavern. Don’t follow me.”

--------

She didn’t. Instead she rode Phobos to Lamia, and found an inn. She travelled via the Hot Gates, and paid her respects to her grandfather while there. She panged slightly in Alexios’ absence: she had hoped to bring him here and bask in their family’s legacy, but no matter. He would find his way here eventually.

Lamia was almost definitely the place where they would find their fugitive. Though the correspondence had claimed Makedonia, all of their information had lead them to Malis. And besides, she had a good feeling about Lamia, and she always checked her gut when searching. After settling into the inn, she set Ikarus skyward, to search for signs of both their prey and Alexios. She knew he wasn’t stupid, and could defend himself, but she still felt weird being away from him.

When Ikarus returned empty-handed on both counts, Kassandra’s brow began to crease. The only tavern the man could have been referring to was in Lamia. It was also the only one that Alexios would head to, and the only one between the Oracle and the mountains.

“Go and make sure,” she instructed the bird, reaching for her weapons to strap them to her. Ikarus swooped out the window, and into the night. She tried to calm her breathing, but inside, she knew Ikarus was not wrong. Her brother was not in Malis.

So where was he?

Chapter Text

His head hurt. His chest hurt. He hadn’t had water in days, and they’d given him no protection from the cold of the wind. Never in his life had he wished for a warm bowl of broth than right at this moment.

He wasn’t quite sure where he was. He was tied up, definitely. His wrists chafed against the rope and he could feel the slipperiness of his blood as it was released from his skin. Perhaps if he was too damaged, they wouldn’t want him anymore?

He cursed himself for being so stupid and predictable. One of his trademarks in a fight was his unpredictability, but he guessed that his sister’s training had made him gain focus but lose the ability to surprise his opponent. He was drunk too, which hadn’t helped.

Kassandra was right, there was only one tavern in Malis, so he had gone there to, ahem, search for Alec. He meant to search for Alec, anyway, but Alexios wasn’t quite sure that he couldn’t find him at the bottom of his drink. And he’d had plenty of them, with Alec not at the bottom of any of them. So, he’d been a bit sad about Kassandra. He would prove her wrong, and show that he could be trusted to get information for their missions, and he would start by questioning the people in the tavern. The drink was making him equal measures foolish, brash, and stupid.

“You man,” he’d started by pointing at the person closest to him. “Ever heard of Alec of Makedonia?”

The man stared between Alexios and the drinks in front of him and laughed. It was an empty laugh, one which stung Alexios. He was a dangerous misthios, after all. And a random man could just laugh at him?

“And who are you to ask?” the man rumbled back, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Alexios of Sparta,” he replied, confused at the man’s demeanour.

“Ahh, yes,” the man said. “You and your sister have been following a mythical man through the country. You’ve made my job so much easier, friend.” Seeing that Alexios was not quite following, and knowing that the drink was clouding his judgement, the man stood and beckoned Alexios follow him. Alexios, being a bit beyond his own reasoning skills at the moment, followed.

What met him at the exit to the tavern was not any further information on the Alec he now thought he knew did not exist, but a small band of men holding various implements.

“If you come quietly, we will leave without your sister. If you fight us, we will take her as well.” The small man was menacing, but also small. Alexios, through his mental fog, knew he was taller and stronger. He also knew that these men would be no match at all for Kassandra, but he’d already been so much trouble for her that day that he shrugged and submitted. He knew Kassandra did not want to see him, and his doubt that she still wanted to consider him her family was sewn deep. He’d yelled at her and thrown her into the creek: who would want him as a brother now?

“Excellent,” the man said, and he placed rope around Alexios’ wrists. As he did so, Alexios lost consciousness, and slept to the sounds of laughing men.

--------

He’d been stupid and dumb. And sad and ridiculous. Kassandra would definitely be mad at him, and he’d now caused her further trouble by being captured by a group of people. Sitting in the chest they’d put him, sleeping, into, he kicked at the ends of it, calling for the attention of his captors.

The wagon he was in stank, and he wanted fresh air.

“What?!” a man answered, opening the top of the truck. Alexios looked at him, but his hood obscured his face. The sky above him was blue, and the air fresh. A north-westerly wind was blowing, and he couldn’t see any trees. So at least he now knew that they were travelling north by road.

“I’m thirsty,” Alexios said, writhing in the chest. The man man a non-committal noise, and closed the chest.

“We will be there soon, Alexios of Sparta,” he said.

“Who are you people, anyway!” Alexios shouted, kicking at the chest again. They had the look of the cult, but he wasn’t convinced. They had a different smell, and their textiles weren’t from Hellas. And the cult revered him: they’d never tie him up and shove him into a chest. But he guessed that maybe they would, had he ever been unarmed.

They’d been on the road for a few days, and finally they stopped to make camp. Alexios was relieved at not having to move for a while, when the top of the chest was opened. The man from the tavern looked down on him.

“We don’t know how your tainted, demi-God powers work between you and your sister,” he said. Alexios looked at him confused: he definitely wasn’t a demi-god, and neither was his sister. The last two years had alone broken him out of that thinking. “So we’ve decided to blind you, so you can’t tell your sister, in your mind, where we are.”

It took Alexios a minute to understand what they’d said.

“You’re going to what?” he said frantically. “We can’t talk to each other in our heads. I swear it. We aren’t gods, just good fighters.” The man was fiddling with something just outside of the chest, and Alexios began to truly struggle against his bonds. “Please, please,” he pleaded. “Don’t send me into the dark. Please.”

The man looked at him, and shrugged.

“It’s what the master has commanded.” He then picked up a bottle of amber liquid and uncorked the top. Alexios receded into his mind, images flashing before him. He’d already spent so much time in darkness; so much time in the underbelly of the world. He’d been born of it, and had embraced it during the time before, and he’d worked so hard to not retreat into it. It was safety, it was known: but it wasn’t kindness, and it wasn’t love.

Kassandra would never forgive him for returning to that place.

The man leant down, bottle in one hand and empty fingers in the other. He was aiming first for Alexios’ left eye. Alexios had almost no time left before he could act.

He thought of the binds, slippery with blood. He thought of the chest, positioned uncaringly on the cart. He thought of the wind, blowing towards the sea. He placed these things together in his mind, and leapt at the conclusion as it was still forming.

So he acted.

He first rolled away from the man and the bottle, taking the man off his balance, and giving Alexios the space needed to roll forward, the way of the wind. He pulled back his strength and pressed it forward in equal measure, timing his leap from the chest. As the wind gusted, he pushed his body weight towards the side of the chest, flipping it off the cart and taking the man with it. The man gave out a surprised huff, and fell on his back with the air knocked out of him. Alexios spilled out of the chest, arms tingling with the movement. He leapt upwards, bringing his feet to his chest and his hands to his front. He then descended on the man, still dazed by the fall. Using his binds, he strangled him until the blue of his eyes turned white and his hands let the bottle go. Yells were going up around the camp at this point, and weapons were being gathered by his captors. He wasn’t drunk anymore, and he was now dangerous.

But instead of facing them, he ran. His chiton was billowing behind him as the wind picked up, flying him towards the coast, and towards safety. While he was strong, his deprivation at the hands of his captors made him weak, and he could hear their footsteps gaining ground.

He felt a tingle in the back of his neck, which was only caused by two things that he had experienced: the imminence of an arrow head, and Kassandra’s presence. Perhaps he was soon to meet death; or perhaps his sister was looking for him. He followed a path that made the feeling stronger. It was slower going, but he needed to find her. Reducing his burden on her was the least he could do, after all.

The feeling was at a frenzy, and he knew he was close. It had overtaken his other senses: he couldn’t hear the steps behind him, and he could barely see the path of his feet. He turned a corner, placing his bloody hand on a boulder as he did so, anticipating finding Kassandra just ahead.

Instead, he felt a hand on his back which grabbed his chiton, ripping it slightly. He turned to see who was restraining him, flailing his still bound arms into a defensive posture. The fully armed man in front of him had a helm characteristic of the Persians, and Alexios didn’t have time to fully appreciate what this meant before the man aimed for his head.

He dodged, moving to the ground to centre his gravity. The man swung again, and Alexios wasn’t fast enough. The sting of sword meeting the flesh on the right side of his face burned and sent him to the ground. The tingling in his neck was still present: Kassandra must be so close. He yelled out, hoping she could hear him, before succumbing to the darkness of a well placed blow once again.

-------

Alexios woke to a damp cold. He was lying in a puddle of water, his chiton soaked through. He lifted his head, and the sting of his injury brought him back into the room. He lifted his fingers gingerly to touch it, and found his right ear missing. Shit.

He looked around: the room was obviously a cell, with a wooden door blocking out the light. The walls were stone, with water running down them onto the floor and a bit of vegetation lay around the edges, making him think that perhaps it hadn’t been used as a cell for long.

He probed the tingling feeling in his neck, and found only silence. She wasn’t near him. He sighed in disappointment. Maybe what he’d felt on the hill wasn’t his sister, and she was back in Lakonia toasting his demise with her step-brother. He shook the uncalled thoughts away and replaced them with what he knew of her. She’d find him, and she would tear the world a part to do so.

The latch of the door shuddered, unlocked, and Alexios stood in response. He wanted to remain at least a little dignified. A person he’d never seen before entered the doorframe. They were unarmed, and looked to be a slave.

“Alexios of Sparta,” they said. “You’ve been summoned to the Huntsman.” They turned and walked away, expecting Alexios to follow.

Alexios hesitated, calculating the amount of light coming from the door and the likelihood of escape. He judged it low, shrugged, and followed the slave.

The slave lead him to a small, seemingly temporary, room. Documents covered the tables and maps lined the walls but there was no sense of permanence: the occupier likely had only been here a month or so. A man was standing at a far table, looking at a document. His face was obscured, but his bulk was all muscle, with the sinew of his hands indicating his partaking of intricate work.

“Alexios of Sparta,” he said with menace. “You’re an easy man to trap.”

Alexios shrugged. After all, the only experience this man had had with him was when he was either drunk, beaten, or both. On a good day he could outpace fifty men.

The Huntsman laughed.

“Do you know why we seek you?” he asked.

“Either you want me as a puppet, or you want me in a grave. Maybe both.”

The Huntsman laughed, an echo within his gut that spewed forth, covering Alexios in goose-bumps.

“You and your sister are tainted, and it is for us to eliminate you. The only reason you are still alive is to draw her out and make her enter her own grave. I haven’t decided who will watch the other perish, but I’m open to suggestions.”

Alexios stared at him, processing the information. Tainted? He was getting a little sick of strangers placing labels on them.

“You won’t defeat her,” he said finally. “She’s stronger than your greatest man.”

The Huntsman laughed again, and dismissed him.

--------

As he sat in the damp, he tried to calm himself. She would definitely be coming for him, and would never leave him behind.

But she would be coming to her grave. And it was his doing. Again. His hands shook, with cold or nerves, he couldn’t say.

A light appeared in his mind, a spark of thought that galvanised him. He stood, and checked the space. If her coming was inevitable, then he could at least be strong when she did come.

So he started with push-ups.

Chapter Text

Kassandra found herself perched on top of the temple with no idea how she got there. Her eyes stung, tears streaming down her dirt riddled face, making tracks in the mud. Her feet were bare, and her lone chiton was driven around her by the wind. She wore no armour, and held no weapons. She didn’t need them, anymore. As her hope faded, so did her purpose. She would never forgive herself for this, even if everyone else did. Her sole responsibility for years had been her little brother, and she’d lost him.

He wasn’t in Malis. And she’d searched high and low for him. Everytime Ikarus returned empty handed, she sent him off again with nothing more than a tilt in her wrist. The bird was getting frustrated with her, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. This might be the time when he sighted her brother.

She hadn’t slept in days, and it was starting to truly take its toll. Her hair was coming out of the braid, her eyes was bereft of moisture, her tongue lagged when she spoke, and it took all of her might to stop the thoughts of him scared and alone.

He wasn’t dead; she knew he wasn’t dead; she would have felt it if he was dead.

But the thoughts came unbidden, into her mind’s eye, to taunt her.

You shouldn’t have yelled at him.

You should have insisted on accompanying him.

He’d be here if you were a better sister.

She knew it was true, but at the same time, also knew that she could turn these thoughts into labour. She harnessed their energy, and chanelled it into questioning every damn person in Malis.

She’d found many people frightened of speaking to her, but not many people who knew anything. Of the ones who would speak, they generally hesitated, then delivered good information. Too good. Alexios’ captors had made sure the clues she received were suspiciously clear and conveniently achieved.

“I heard a cart with a man yelling inside heading north.”

“There are caves in Makedonia that may be of interest.”

“Yes, the man you seek was here, but they travelled along the road to the north of Makedonia.”

She’d never encountered such willing informants, and this in itself made her cautious. It was clearly a trap, but not one she intended on springing haphazardly.

So she bought new armour in a different style to her usual, rented the room in Lamia for a month, and gave Ikarus strict instructions to frequent its window. No one would know she was gone, and while her targets watched Lamia, she would be heading north.

She looked towards the mountains before her, and listened to what the birds told her. She felt the direction of travel in the very fibre of her muscles and every link in her being. He was out there, probably hurt, but he was out there.

A whiff of smoke caught her nose, and she looked south, towards a fishing village. It was smouldering in its entirety, sending tendrils of ash upwards. It seemed to be bleeding: people were streaming from its every pore like a fish sliced. Kassandra tried to ignore the village, tried to ignore the screams, but her urgency regarding Alexios was instead channeled into the crisis before her.

“Go! Move!” she screamed, knocking down doors and helping people escape the flames. For every house that was empty, there was one where someone needed help. She eventually reached the last house: her chest was searing with pain, and her fingertips were burnt numb. She opened the door of the last house and ventured inside. As she crossed the threshold, an arrow aimed at her head moved through her hair. She reacted instinctively, drawing herself down and scanning the room. Three men faced her, all strangely armoured. They attacked in unison, obviously used to working together. Kassandra found herself outmatched.

Deflecting their blows, but landing none of her own, she began to draw them out of the house. They followed, creating a bottleneck in the door and enabling her to dispatch the smallest of the three with a blow to his neck. Once this was done, she turned and ran around the corner of the house, and into the smoke. Shallowing her breathing, and unsheathing her spear, she climbed the far wall of the house to wait for the men to follow her.

“Spread out,” she heard one call. “She can’t have gotten far.”

The largest of the two turned the corner below her, and out of sight of his companion. She balanced herself and breathed: trust, she told herself. And she leaped.

The blow snapped his neck, and Kassandra didn’t even see him hit the ground as she moved around the next corner. She’d lost track of the last man, and couldn’t hear him through the cackling of the flames.

A hand on her shoulder told her that she’d been foolish. He violently pulled her back, ripping the shoulder of her armour, and pushed her to her knees.

“See, tainted one? Neither of you are gods,” he rumbled, pulling back his arm to land the blow. Something switched in Kassandra as she processed his words: neither of us?

Before Kassandra could react, she heard the twang of a bow and waited for the arrow’s head in her back. It never came: instead, her captor fell to the ground, an arrow in his eye. She stared at him, dead, and felt a fury rise in her throat.

She turned to find the source of the arrow, and saw a young man ten paces away holding a bow high. She advanced towards him, ready to slice his throat. The masked man had said neither of them. He’d seen Alexios, and had information about him. And this stupid, arrogant fool had killed that information right in front of her hands. And he would pay for it.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” she yelled, as he backed away. Now that she was closer, she had a better look at him. He was the same height as her, with the look of a persian. His eyes were coloured like the brown of Ikarus’ wing, and his hair crowned his head untidily. He was still holding his bow, arrow ready.

“I just saved your life!” he yelled back. He tapped the arrow, reminding her of his weapon. She slowed, and stopped five or so paces from him.

“That man had information about my brother,” she said, forcing the calm through her teeth. “He could have been the key.”

“That man was a part of the Order of Ancients. If you’re after them, I have information that may help you.” He then turned, and walked up the hill and away from the burning village.

She thought for a moment. So far, her information had been too easy to gain. It had been lies and convenient truths: this was the first time she had an actual lead in her hands since her brother went missing a week ago. And this stranger had snatched it away from her with a simple arrow. But if she was in his position, she may have let the arrow fly too: he couldn’t have known who she was. So she followed him up the hill.

“Who are the Order of Ancients?” she asked his back.

“Dangerous people who want me dead. They seek control of the known world, east to west.” He turned to look at her and their eyes met: hers angry and bitter, his open and determined. He turned back around and continued up the hill.

“Why do they want you dead? Have you seen many around? Was there a man with them, looks like me, younger.” She pulled on his arm, dragging him slightly down hill. He turned to her again, his patience waning. She was still holding onto his sleeve when he spoke.

“They have a hideout here, I’m not sure where.” His voice was agitated, and he shot out the answers at her as quickly as she’d asked them. “Yes, there are many around. I’m sure there are many men with them, but no one that fits that description; or I may not have seen him.” he huffed, waiting for her reply. She knew better than to give it: if this man was a source of information, she didn’t want to muddy the waters by pushing him too far. He looked her over, taking in her armour and weaponry. His eyes then rested on Ikarus, sitting on a branch just behind her shoulder. The man’s eyes went wide. She felt like he was putting the whole of her together, and that perhaps him knowing who she was would make things easier.

“Eagle Bearer, yes,” she said, answering his unasked question. She lifted her arm and Ikarus swooped down to land, squawking at the man as he went. “Kassandra.”

The man looked between her and the eagle, making mental calculations of his own. Eventually, he must have come to a similar conclusion as her.

“Natakas,” he said. “I have heard whispers of the Order searching for you and your brother. My father will know more. I’ll take you to him now.”

She nodded, and he looked down at where she still held him. Kassandra seemed to have forgotten that she had detained him, and let go with a shrug.

She followed him into the mountains, relieved to finally have a lead on her brother. She felt a prickle in her spine: something she’d felt before but had never placed. It must be the wind, she thought. She shivered as the feeling became stronger, the closer she came to the mountains. Natakas glanced at her, her agitation obvious.

“I’m sure you’ll find your brother,” he said in soft tones. She looked at him curiously.

“And what makes you think that?” she asked.

“Because the Order whispers wanted you both. No doubt that they’ll keep him alive in order to draw you in: it’s what I would do.”

“It’s what I would do too,” she replied, drawing her furs further around her shoulders. The tingle was becoming a roar, and her thoughts were scattered. She couldn’t concentrate on anything while her body was on fire, and had a harder time climbing the hills. When the shiver turned into a tremor, she heard a yell to the south east. Fear prickled through her, and sweat crowned her head. She reacted instinctively, and unsheathed her weapons to face the noise. It was close, merely behind the next rise.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the feeling eased. It bled out of her skin and into the wind, leaving only a whisper. She shook her head: maybe the noise was simply her imagination: she had barely slept in a week. She started to put her weapons back.

Natakas whispered into her ear, the heat of his breath curling her hair. “No,” he said. “I heard it too.” His bow was drawn and he sidled around her, scoping the ridge next to them. Kassandra was shaken, and had momentarily forgotten that he was there.

She unsheathed her spear and readied it in her hand.

“I can’t see any movement,” Natakas said, bow still drawn.

“Stay here,” she said, moving ahead of him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he whispered. “You still seem shaken up.”

“It was my imagination, it gets like that sometimes. And besides, how good are you with that bow at close range?”

“I’m better at long.”

“So stay here.”

She turned and climbed the top park of the ridge, towards some boulders. Using them as cover, she listened to what the wind was telling her. Birds were quiet, and there was a metallic smell in the air. Blood.

She sent Ikarus skyward, and waited. The bird gave a mild warning cry, and she advanced on his advice.

There was no one on the other side of the boulder, but her sense of smell had been accurate. A bloody handprint, still fresh, was felt on one of the rocks. She touched it slightly, and knew it to be her brother’s.

“Alexios!” she screamed, running north. “Alexios! Can you hear me!”

Ikarus shot back into the air, searching for him. Her thoughts strayed to the blood, and the injuries it could mean. Had they taken his hand? Had they slit his wrists? Had he lost enough blood to be in real danger? If a hair was out of line, it would be their blood lining the mountain.

Ikarus picked up a trail, and she followed him, breathing hard.

First she heard Ikarus’ confirmation: her little brother was near. Then she heard the bird’s sharp warning cry: so were many other dangers. Then she heard the rattle of a cart, the rush of voices, the drowning of fire. Then she heard a twig crack behind her.

She turned, unsheathing her spear and aiming for the throat in a quick movement. She almost killed him there, as wired as she was.

It was Natakas, who, to his credit, did not flinch. He put his hand on the spear, pushing it downwards, eyes on hers. He eyes then flickered to the camp, and the hasty retreat the men behind her were making.

“This is the Order,” he whispered. He pointed at one man who was filling the cart. “The mask indicates a senior position, likely a lieutenant.” She turned back around and started planning her attack. Quietly, without fuss, she would attract the attention of the men to her, and slice them as they came. That would leave the masters to give her information, which they would do, before their death.

“You can’t defeat them all, Kassandra,” Natakas whispered. “There’s too many.”

She smirked. “Haven’t you ever heard of me?” she asked, challenging him.

“If this group have your brother, they’ll be moving him to their hideout. We don’t currently know where the hideout is, but gaining its location would be invaluable to getting them out of Hellas.”

“Are you suggesting we do nothing?” she said in disbelief.

“I’m suggesting we follow them,” he said, turning his head to look at her. “Your brother is safer if they know that he has to live long enough to draw you in.”

“But,” she stuttered, looking back to the camp. “But … the blood. He’s already hurt.”

“I know that,” he replied, trying to allay her stress. “But they won’t harm him if he’s the ticket to you.”

She looked around at the men. They were fully armed and heavily armoured: any more than three of them and she would struggle to gain ground, and there were at least twelve including their leader. She sighed in defeat.

“They will never stop hunting either of you if you don’t address them at their root, and that involves finding where they base themselves.”

She knew he was right, and sheathed her spear. He sighed in relief behind her, and continued to watch the Order’s escape.

“You never told me why they want you dead?” Kassandra asked.

“My father assassinated Xerxes, and wanted to destroy his line with it. The Order disagreed. We’ve been running ever since, and that happened when I was a child.” He was whispering, but she could hear venom cloud his answers.

“So you’ve never really had a home?” she probed, gently. He nodded, eyes still on the camp. “Alexios is my home, I have to save him.” He turned his eyes to her, and nodded again.

“I’ll help you get him back, if you help me rid Hellas of the Order.”

“Agreed,” she replied.

--------

They kept to the trees, Kassandra taking the lead, and Natakas following her steps. The convoy didn’t stop for rest nor drink: and they looked to be on a straight path into the upper part of the mountains. Kassandra was exhausted by the time the cart was stopped, and struggled to maintain her quiet. They’d halted at a rock face covered in plant life, cascading down. The lieutenant drove a peg into the left of the rock face, and drew some of the plants aside, opening a gap through which the men walked. It wasn’t big enough for the cart, so they emptied it, and left the cart under a guise of plants just outside the door.

“That must be their base,” said Natakas. “This is a place with a few caves, perhaps one of them leads to the centre.”

Kassandra shook her head. “I’ll get Ikarus to double check, but I don’t think there are any caves here. This looks like the only entrance.”

“And have you searched the entire mountain to check?” Natakas asked, annoyance in his voice. She didn’t rise to it.

“Yes. I had to remove bandits that were threatening Amphipolis before the battle there. Brasid- … the General had me clear the whole of the land.” She looked away from him, anger bubbling.

He sensed that she was at breaking point, and didn’t press it further. “Then we reconvene. Get your bird to check to see if there are any other entrances: we can walk to my cave to inform my father of our findings.”

She hesitated, looking back at the cave. Alexios was just beyond that wall, with those people that had already caused him to bleed. She could just enter and get him out and they’d be back in Lakonia before the week was out.

But she had made a deal with Natakas, and he was right: they wanted both of them dead, and if she let them fester here, they may follow her to Lakonia. And find her and Alexios asleep in their beds.

So she nodded to Natakas, and stood. Together, they made their way down the hill.

Chapter Text

It had been a week. Seven little scratches were marked on a small, insignificant stone held in the corner of the room: each marking a sunset and sunrise. Alexios had never been able to get by without marking the days when he’d been locked up in the past. The feeling of time fleeing through his open fingertips and disappearing through the floor left him sweating and anxious, if more than three weeks would elapse before Kassandra came, he then knew to worry about her and whether she was coming at all.

He shook his head again, a common action. The thoughts intruded, and he shook them away like water from his coat. She would come. She would save him. Then she’d chastise him for being unable to save himself.

He shook his head again, more roughly this time. No, she would come and be glad that he was safe. He let his thoughts of the subject drift away, and turned instead to the hard bread he’d been given, and the drills he’d planned to pace his body through this day. He began.

--------

“I’m telling you, this one tracks west.”

“And I’m telling you, it’s north-west, towards Amphipolis.”

Kassandra huffed, and threw her arms into the air. She’d found three order members, and thrice as many of their men: she knew this one was in the north-west. Darius disagreed. Even though Ikarus had returned to Lamia to maintain their ruse, Kassandra still had ways of finding her targets.

“Then you go north-west, and Natakas and I will go west, and we shall see who wins the prize.” Darius mimicked her tone and frustration, and moved towards his cave to gather his supplies. Kassandra stayed where she was, afraid that if she followed, she would truly lose her temper.

“I think it’s south,” Natakas called from the trees, a laugh in his voice. “That’s where all the good game is, so it’s where I would be.” He grinned as he passed Kassandra, and she glared at him. He threw up his hands in a mock-defence, and followed his father into the cave.

Did they not know what was at stake for her? No, of course they knew, they just didn’t care. Their prize was the Order, and they had all the time in the world to pursue it. She’d already been out for a week, which could turn out to be a week too long for her brother. She crouched down, and settled on the balls of her feet. Her back was aching and she wasn’t getting enough sleep: Alexios would surely chastise her for it. Without her bidding, tears sprung from the corners of her eyes and she quickly wiped them away, wetting her bracers as she did.

“It’ll be okay,” a gentle voice behind her said. She hadn’t noticed Natakas come out of the cave. He’d crouched down next to her, but knew better than to crowd her. “We’ll find the order member and weaken their position. Then we can go and get him.”

“But it’s already been a week,” she replied. Her voice was soft, but she kept it steady with great difficulty.

“And it may be a week more. Your brother is strong, and so are you. You’ll survive this.”

“But you don’t understand. What if this takes him back to … back to before? You don’t know what his life was like before. What if they’ve taken him back to Deimos?” Her voice slipped slightly at the mention of the dread, her one fear.

Natakas placed his hand on her shoulder and rubbed it slightly. “Then you’ll bring him back, like you did before.”

Kassandra rubbed her eyes again and stood. “Thank you, Natakas. Are you sure you want to go with your father to chase a ghost? Or am I right?”

Natakas laughed. “I said I thought it was south. But in all seriousness, I agree with you. I’ll get my bow.”

After Darius’ usual lecture about safety, they split up, and Kassandra wished she’d had the presence of mind to pack her furs. She’d sent a letter to her mater without many details, just saying that they’d hit a slight snag, and that their time in Makedonia would be a little longer than they’d first expected. No lies, just not the whole truth. They’d been away from home for a little under two months, and she didn’t want mater to worry. The longer she stayed, the worse she felt, and not just because of Alexios’ current situation.

She’d tried to avoid this country for three years. She’d successfully assisted in its win for Sparta, and Sparta had held it since, but the cost was too great. If she was being honest, her research into their next target was not only conveniently near Amphipolis, but she just wanted a clear sight of his stone again. To feel his name under her fingers, and tell him all the things he’d missed since he’d left her in her dreams. She’d heard his place was a pilgrimage now, and that flowers adorned the site. He would have hated the wasted money, and would have preferred a quiet spot out of the sunlight. A grave fit for a General, when he’d only wanted one fit for a grandfather.

Kassandra sighed, and gently stroked Phobos’ neck. Natakas rode next to her, his face shrouded by a cloak and his hands covered in leather.

“I need to make a quick stop to the meadow just outside Amphipolis,” she said. “It’ll only take a half hour or so.”

“Ok,” he said. “Is that where the battle was held? Were you there?”

“Yes,” she replied quietly. Her grip of Phobos’ reins whitened as the only show of her stress. If Natakas noticed, he didn’t show it.

“Then lead the way.”

She hadn’t expected him to come along. She turned slightly to him, letting him see the glint in her eye. His face changed slightly, taking in her distress.

“I wanted to see the famed olive tree groves,” he said, pointing to the hill beyond the city. “I could wait for you there?”

Kassandra relaxed, and nodded in response. They continued closer to the city, and parted ways when they reached the battleground.

“Kassandra,” he said before riding away. “You don’t have to hold everything inside.” He was talking quietly, seeking the trust of a wounded animal. “You’re allowed to let the burden ease.”

She nodded at him, not quite an acknowledgement, but not quite a dismissal. He turned his horse and made for the hill.

She turned to face the city, and the grounds before it. It wasn’t quite as she remembered: the grass had grown back, the sounds of birds lifted the air, the air smelled sweet. She made for the collection of white stones on the edge of the grass, and found his easily thanks to the offerings placed upon it.

Purple and red cloth, woven with reverence. Flowers, picked from the field behind her and placed by children. Offerings of statues, sea shells, coins, and bowls of food left for him to feast on in the underworld. People showed their appreciation for what he did for them, but he would have turned back every one of them for thinking him a hero.

He wasn’t a hero, he was simply too good at the job given to him by his homeland. And the thanks he got was a hole in the ground.

Kassandra knelt, and felt the carving of his name. She touched her forehead to the stone, and let its cold seep into her skin. She thought of all the time they should have had together, robbed from them.

“I forgave him, you know,” she said quietly. “If I hadn’t known your love, I may not have. You were a unique light in a dark world, and you felt compassion for everyone and everything. I’ll always owe you that, Brasidas. He’s not the man who felled you, but he’s more like a boy that needed his mater. In a way, you gave him back to us. In you, I found the drive to save him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, my love. I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, smart enough. But I know you have forgiven me those things, and now all that’s left is for me to forgive myself. I love you, Brasidas. And I always will.” She looked down at his ring adorning her hand. She tilted it slightly, glancing the sun. She thought the tears would come, but they stayed, frightened to alight to her cheeks. She was grateful, for she didn’t know if she’d be able to stop them once started.

She stood up, and unsheathed her spear. Pulling her hair tight, she cut a lock and placed it in a piece of spare leather from her pack. Tying it with a strip of red cloth, she buried it next to the stone.

Taking a last look at his name, she turned and walked towards the olive grove. She knew one day she would come back slightly less wounded, slightly more humble, slightly less buoyed by things lost. But today wasn’t that day. Today was the day when they were finally able to plan to return her brother to her. She felt relieved, like this goodbye was the one he deserved. And she knew that he’d only want her happiness. Once they met in the underworld, she’d be able to assure him that her happiness hadn’t been buried with him.

Natakas was waiting for her on the edge of the field. She didn’t know if he’d been watching her, and she wasn’t terribly fussed at the idea that he was. This surprised her: usually her privacy at these things was paramount, but she didn’t mind Natakas seeing this intimate side to her.

“I found a rabbit up the hill,” he said, holding it up for her to see. “How much in a hurry are we? I could eat.”

“In a mild hurry,” she said. “I don’t want Darius to win. If he gets to the order member before us I’ll never live it down.”

He laughed, bagged the bunny, and mounted his horse. Kassandra whistled to Phobos, and soon they were on their way to find the order member.

--------

She knelt silently above the cave roof, listening for growls. She’d seen three bears, but had heard five. The order member was the only person, and Kassandra could see why. The stench coming from the cave made her eyes stream with tears, and she could only see this as a possible defensive technique: no one would choose to live this way.

Natakas shifted slightly next to her. His eyes were better than hers, and his arrows were more likely to find their target.

“I’d really like to quietly take out the bears, without the member knowing,” he whispered. “To do that, I need to get them in the head or they might groan and alert the rest of the den.”

“I could always sit on the back of Phobos and shoot them while he gallops away. He’s trained for it, and he’s faster than a bear.”

Natakas looked at her through the side of his eye, a quizzical expression on his face. He’d noticed that she’d had a higher propensity to joke since Amphipolis, but surely she wasn’t serious.

“I do it all the time,” she whispered in response to his look. “I’ll distract the bears, and you shoot the member. Easy.”

“I never know if you’re joking or not.”

“Well, you don’t know me very well yet.”

“And I might never get a chance to if we go for your silly plan. You’ll alert half of Makedonia to our presence.”

“What, and force the Order to play their hand? And get me closer to Alexios? How terrible that would be.”

“Kassandra,” he said seriously. “If we take out this member, then that’ll be four, plus the ten or so guards that were with them. In a week. Every one is a step closer to your brother. Do you remember how many we saw on the day we followed them? Thirteen. Do you think they have that many left? Because I don’t.”

She sighed. She knew he was right, but he didn’t have to say it. She closed her eyes and channelled her energy into the task in front of them. She compartmentalised Alexios, driving his need into the bears milling below her.

“Ok,” she said. “I’m sorry, and I’ll try to be less derailing. Now, the only way I truly see this panning out, is by one of us causing a distraction, while the other aims for the bears and the member. They’ll not notice their numbers dwindling until it is too late.”

“Is the distraction on Phobos, by chance?”

“Would you prefer me to be on foot?”

He looked at her, searching her face. She shrugged in response.

“I don’t like it,” he said. “But I guess I’ll stay here. I’ll drop the bears, one by one, and only when you hear one cry out, that’s when to make your appearance. It’ll mean I’ve missed my mark and we’ll need your distraction.”

“Shoot straight,” she said, moving silently to her horse. The sun was at its zenith, and the wind had dropped completely. The air was still and their movements were amplified by the quiet around them.

She mounted her horse and doubled back around the cave. She waited, watching for Natakas’ arrows to hit.

She heard a great thump, and saw a beast felled with an arrow stuck in its eye. She’d never seen such shooting before: he was masterful. And notably quiet about it: he really must not want her on the field.

Another thump, but this one accompanied by an angry yell. The country was so quiet before, the sound of pain and anger sprouted out of the ground and filled the air. It was equal measures mournful and vengeful. Kassandra dismounted Phobos: she knew their original plan would not work as this Order member was taking the loss of her bears with her teeth.

Kassandra leaped from the bushes and drew her bow, looking for movement. A bear spotted her and charged, and it took two of her arrows to fell it. She moved quickly towards the cave, following the cry. At the mouth of the cave she found another felled bear, and one alive but wounded. She aimed to dispatch the last bear when a voice called from the top of the cave.

“Don’t you dare!” it said. Kassandra kept her arrow trained on the bear, but tilted her head up. The voice was that of the member, and she held Natakas at knife-point.

“Put the bow down.”

“Put the knife down, and I’ll put the bow down.”

The woman moved her knife and pierced Natakas’ neck, letting the blood trail down his shoulder. Kassandra jumped forward by instinct, the sight of the blood tearing her insides anew.

How many times, Kassandra thought, how many times had she told that wretched man to carry a damn knife.

“Put down the bow,” the woman repeated.

If Kassandra put down her bow, she’d not be able to both fend off the bear and save Natakas’ neck.

Her bones could feel a solution, and her muscles responded without her mind interfering. She lowered the bow, and made to put it down while entering a crouch. She felt the hum of her blood filling her head, whispering her actions to her after they’d occurred. It was often like this, when she was left with small choices in high stakes. Her years of training and constant vigilance performed for her, leading her blindly into fields of black colour and dim light. She trusted it wholly, for it had never wronged her. But it had wronged others in its quest for her safety. Would it sacrifice Natakas for her?

She felt her hands move swiftly once the bow was on the ground in front of her. Even if she planned the next move, she was sure she wouldn’t have been able to anticipate the speed by which she moved.

She vaguely noticed the order member loosen her grip on the knife, and her shoulder move slightly down, relaxing its grip on Natakas. This acted as a sign for her body, which responded by moving towards her spear at her back and aiming at the member. Her aim was always true, even at such a distance, and it sliced through the eye of the woman, knocking her back and taking Natakas with her to spread onto the grass above the cave.

Kassandra suddenly became aware of her movements, her body giving her back to her mind. And with this realisation, the roar of the bear erupted and its breath lit her skin. It grappled at her, tearing flesh from her shoulder in a swift and powerful movement. Kassandra yelped and scampered away, dragging her injured arm in the mud. She couldn’t lift it without searing pain. It was all she could do to put as much distance between herself and the bear, but her feet slipped and slid giving her no way to move quickly. That she was the same woman who threw the spear with such precision almost made her laugh. Here, bleeding on the floor of a bear den, with her doom advancing, was a power equal measures strength and cunning.

And she was about to be killed by a fucking bear.

Kassandra closed her eyes as the bear stalked her, it huffing with rage at the loss of its master. It moved slowly to her, seeming to savour her small, inconsequential movements. It rose to its hind legs, taller than even her brother, and she prepared to see black.

Then it fell, claw outstretched, eyes glassy. She only saw black and felt the weight of it, her body entirely covered by the beast. But it didn’t move, and the dead weight of it began to suffocate her. Her mind sluggishly worked for a solution, any solution, to get the bear off her. But she couldn’t: it was too large and encumbered too much of her.

She found the friends she needed in the stars of her eyes. She greeted them like family, having seen them so many times over her life. They always visited her when she was close to death, either by injury or danger. They gave her comfort and warmth, helping her move into the next stage of becoming a star herself.

Then they were ripped away from her, and the cold reality of blood loss and air deprivation replaced their solace.

Kassandra opened her eyes to the sun’s rays sparking her eyes. A voice was nearby, screaming either at her or for her: she couldn’t tell. Her mind had not yet caught onto her surroundings, until hands and arms surrounded her, and the yelling voice was speaking into her hair.

“Kassandra! Kassandra you have to come back! You’ve got to fight!”

Alexios?

“Please, please breathe.”

No, not her brother. Who was it?

“Oh thank the Gods! Kassandra.”

Natakas.

She came fully to then, jostled by Natakas’ worried frenzy. You’d think he’d never seen a death before by the way he was reacting. Maybe he hasn’t.

“I’m ok, I’m ok,” she said, breathlessly.

He grabbed her face and searched it, for what, she wasn’t sure. She’d said she was fine, didn’t she?

She held his hands against her face and tried to place an expression of ease into her features.

“I’m ok, Natakas. Just a bit hurt.”

He laughed at that, and pulled her into a hard hug, pressing her against his chest with such desperation that it started to reverberate through her. She must be in a pretty bad state if this was how he was reacting. She pulled away slightly, and attempted to lift her injured arm. It was bleeding fairly badly, but the flesh wasn’t torn completely away. She lifted the skin slightly, fearing the pain that would inevitably come. It would heal with a scar, but what was another one?

“I thought you were dead.” He was still staring at her like she would drift away at any second.

“This is dangerous work, but it hasn’t killed me yet.” She attempted a small smile, but presumed that it came out as a grimace. She clambered to her feet and whistled to Phobos. She would need the supplies in her pack to dress the wound.

“Have you searched the woman? Did you come across any clues?” she asked, fishing through her bag for a piece of linen to wrap her arm with.

“No,” Natakas replied. He hesitated, then moved to the top of the cave to where she fell.

“Can you get my spear too, please?” Kassandra called.

“I will if I can get it out of her skull,” he called back, seemingly returning to his joking self.

She felt through her pack, and gently pushed aside Alexios’ discarded shawl which she had bought him. She hesitated for a moment, feeling its warmth against her fingers. Soon, so soon, she would be able to go and get him. She found the linen and started cleaning up the wound. Her range of movement would be somewhat limited, but not enough to prevent her finally finding her brother.

Natakas returned with a hastily written letter addressed to the woman from the Huntsman. “‘We’ve lost too many men’,” Natakas read. “‘We need you to reconvene at the primary location and bring all of the resources you can.’ Looks fresh. The den seemed fairly well-lived in. Maybe she decided not to rejoin them.”

“Maybe. Or Maybe she was prepping to leave when we found her.” Kassandra took the letter from him, grimacing slightly at the movement. He pursed his lips slightly, but she dismissed it with a shrug, which also made her grimace. “We could go now and get Alexios. They’re so diminished that they’re calling in their members. They’re much more vulnerable now than if they have the manpower they’re calling in. Now is the time to act.” She picked up her spear and returned it to her back, energised by this revelation. She could make their camp by the afternoon, riding fast. She could get Alexios out and home to Lakonia before their people could return.

“Kassandra, you’re not at full strength. You haven’t eaten all day, and you’ve been pretty badly injured.”

“I know, but when will we have a better chance!”

“We won’t, but you’ll be gifting yourself to them if you go right now. This information will keep until you’ve eaten and had a night’s rest. Tomorrow is as good a time as today.” He saw just how much convincing she would need as her jaw realigned into its own stubborn line. “This is a mountainous region. They don’t know it as well as you do. It’ll take their people days to get to their hideout. Please trust me, you need this rest.”

Kassandra looked down at the note, and crumpled it in her hand. Her knuckles were white, and her drive was strong.

“This is the second time you’ve delayed me getting my brother,” she said. “Is there a reason for this?”

She heard her voice and was surprised by the venom in it. Natakas had shown himself to be anything but an enemy, but she couldn’t deny that he was conveniently delaying her.

Natakas almost shrugged, but stopped himself before committing to the dismissive action.

“I’m just trying to give you the best chance of coming out alive.”

“I could be back in Lakonia with him right now.”

“Or you could both be dead. We have a common goal. I just want to pull out the root with the plant.”

“And I just want my brother.” Her chin jutted from her face, a defiance to their current course.

“Then let’s go and get him, but only after you’ve had some food and rest. Please, Kassandra. You’re doing them a favour by not resting.”

The cold reason which usually entered his voice when planning for the Order’s downfall was replaced by pleading. This was more than pulling the root with the plant, he truly worried about whether she would leave the hideout alive.

They’d been staring each other down for the length of the exchange, and she was the first to soften her look.

“Ok,” she said. “We’ll go after them tomorrow.”

“Thank you, I’ll get a fire going and cook the food.”

-------

They set out the next day, as planned. They stopped by Darius’ cave to see if he had returned from his ghost hunt, but he hadn’t. Natakas was frustrated by this: he wanted his father to assist their efforts at the hideout. He wrote out a note of their plan and where they would be if he decided to follow them.

They’d developed their plan on the ride.

Both of them would scope numbers, Kassandra eliminating everyone who exited the hideout for any reason. They would diminish the numbers over the day, then come nightfall, Kassandra would enter the hideout and find her brother and leave with him quietly. Once they were out, Natakas would scope for the Huntsman, hopefully firing the shot that killed him. Kassandra would evacuate to Lakonia with her brother as soon as they’d left the hideout.

She was dubious about the last part, but Natakas assured her that the Order was his fight, not hers, and that she’d done more than enough to weaken them for him to make the final shot.

As they rode closer to the hideout, the buzzing in her soul strengthened. She knew by now that it meant proximity to her brother, and wondered whether he could feel her too. Surely he could, he was more sensitive to his soul than she was: after all, he’d needed it as a place to retreat into. And it would explain how easily he found her on the battlefields of their past.

After finding a position which gave them a view to the only known door to the place, they settled into a routine of dispatching guards. Natakas would announce them, and Kassandra would lure them into the trees to be quietly killed. She didn’t have the benefit of Ikarus to guide her to her quarry: he was still in Malis, pretending that she was too.

She was cleaning her spear, sitting in the soft grass, when Natakas gave her the signal that someone had exited the hideout.

“This one is large, but alone,” he whispered. “Be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” she replied quietly, knowing that he knew that this was truly false.

“Just …,” he hesitated. He grabbed her hand softly, and rubbed the back of it. “This one is dangerous, I’ve had run ins with him before.”

“It’s ok, I’ll be ok,” she assured him.

Natakas was right, this one was a brute. He was also heavily armoured. She whistled slightly, attracting his attention. He turned, but didn’t advance. She whistled again, slightly louder. He still didn’t advance. She whistled three more times in quick succession to no avail.

So she stayed silent, waiting for him to turn back around. She would simply sneak up to his back and dispatch him, and drag him back to the trees to hide his body.

Once he turned, she advanced, using small, weightless steps to hide her presence. She lifted her spear and drove it into his liver. He yelped, but didn’t fall. He turned to her, and lifted her from her feet by her neck, causing her blood to loudly announce her head. He stumbled, but still held her tall, squeezing the air from her lungs.

Natakas would be furious with her. But that thought didn’t help her situation: what did was that she knew he was watching her, and she didn’t want to see the same fear in his face as she did yesterday. She plucked an arrow from her back and drove it through the man’s eye, causing him to drop immediately. She fell to the ground, stumbling in her quest for breath. She recovered slightly, and gave a thumbs up to the area where she knew Natakas was hidden. She had to reassure him, even while her neck squeezed the life from her.

She dragged the man into the trees, and returned to Natakas.

“What the fuck, Kassandra?” he asked.

“What?” she whispered in reply. “I did it, didn’t I?”

“Please, at least for my sake, stop trying to kill yourself.”

“I’m not! He didn’t fall to a wound to the liver, who the hell does that?”

Natakas shook his head and returned it to viewing the exit.

“Well, you will be glad to know that one was definitely the biggest risk from this hideout, other than the Huntsman himself. I once saw him rip a man limb from limb.”

“Well he’s gone now. And now I can go in and get Alexios.”

“Yes, I think so. We’ve gotten rid of five or six people today, plus the thirteen previously.”

He pulled his bow onto his back, still keeping watch of the door lest someone else emerge. He was delaying their parting, she knew, but she was also incredibly anxious to enter the hideout and find her little brother that she had limited patience for it.

“Natakas,” she began. “Thank you for helping me get him back. I couldn’t have done it without you.” She fumbled with words, not sure how to express her gratitude to him. “I hope you and Darius find home somewhere you can feel safe. If it’s near Lakonia, look me up. Or send me a message if you’re ever in need of help. Or send me jokes if you don’t need help. Just …,” she paused. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the entrance to the hideout while she spoke, and she felt embarrassed that it was so hard to say goodbye. She sighed, and sheathed her spear. “Just don’t be a stranger.”

He looked at her then, and smiled.

“I won’t be, I promise.”

She smiled back, and nodded. They grasped hands, hesitating perhaps too long in the touch. When she released, she immediately turned to the hideout entrance, and walked towards the vines covering it.

Once inside, she channelled her energy to Alexios, letting the fear and apprehension of his safety fill her senses. It honed her hearing and sight, and the pulsing of their sibling bond lead her down dark passageways towards him. She didn’t need either a scope or a map, she knew exactly which direction he was in.

“Alexios!” she whispered once the tingling in her spine turned into a roar. “Alexios, are you here?” She tried all the doors along the deserted corridor. None budged, but she could sense that he was further in the mountain than she had ventured.

“Alexios! Answer me!” she strained her voice to whisper rather than shout. Her soul was in a frenzy: she was so close.

“Kassandra?” said a small voice behind a wooden door.

“Brother?” she said, relief flooding her. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m just hungry,” he laughed. “Are you?”

“A little, but I’ve had help along the way. How difficult is this door to open?”

“I don’t know, it’s not been opened since my first day here. Kassandra, listen, they used me as bait to trap you. You have to leave, they want to kill us both.”

“I know, little brother. I’ve got friends here, they’re dealing with the Order.”

“Who?” he asked, rightfully skeptical. She was slightly skeptical too, realising that she’d let softness cloud where reason should rightfully live.

“Friends. Please trust me. I’ll work the lock, when I say so put your weight behind the door.”

She got to work on the lock, a simple mechanism suited to a mountain stronghold where you wouldn’t expect the enemy to be able to reach. She gently moved the parts into their place, and slid her trusty piece of metal into the gap, turning it to the right.

“Ok, a bit of pressure on the door, please,” she said quietly.

Alexios, rather than taking the risk of a little pressure, placed quite a bit on the door, and fell through, knocking Kassandra to the ground.

He picked her up into a desperate embrace, relief flooding both of them. He’d lost weight, and his eyes were sunken into his head. He looked so similar to Deimos that she excused the slight visceral reaction. He smiled instead of grimacing, and she then knew that Alexios stook before her.

“C’mon,” she whispered, suddenly realising that she hadn’t marked the way in. Though her brother had guided her before, she now had no bearing. She started walking along the corridor in a random direction.

“Kassandra, I think it’s this way,” Alexios said, pointing in the other direction. “The air smells cleaner this way.”

She nodded, and followed his direction. They heard commotions down some walkways, and Kassandra tried to drown the concern she felt at hearing arms being prepared, likely to counteract Natakas’ quest. Something was wrong if he hadn’t been able to wait for them to leave the hideout, like they planned.

She and Alexios made it to the exit without much fanfare: the population of the hideout were obviously distracted.

Kassandra decided before she’d realised. She called Phobos, and told Alexios to mount the horse.

“Ride home, and don’t stop,” she said. “Phobos knows the way, he’ll just need to stop for some food and water sometimes. Please, I have to help them.”

“Kassandra,” he yelled. “It could be a fucking trap. Don’t be stupid.”

“I know,” she said. “But I have to try.”

She whacked Phobos’ backside, driving him forward into a gallop. Alexios looked back at her, anger lighting his face. Kassandra smiled in apology, then turned and returned to the mountain.

She followed the sounds of battle, killing as she went. She found a large internal chamber, sunlight streaming down and plants folding beneath her feet. In front of her was a small, but well built man. He held a sword high, and was aiming for the neck of the man kneeling in front of him. A neck she’d seen wounded just the day before.

“No!” she yelled, loosing arrows at the men flanking the execution. Her aim, always true, felled them dramatically, and the man with the sword turned.

“Kassandra, no!” Natakas yelled from his kneeling position.

Anger bubbled through her: who the fuck were these people?

“The last men who threatened my family ended up meeting Hades without heads. Pray that I will show you a similar courtesy.”

The man laughed, and Kassandra, fury coursing through her, unsheathed her spear and threw it at him. It drove into his shoulder, making him growl with pain. He reached into his pocket and drew out small sphere and threw it down to the ground. It was a smoke bomb, and it obscured her view of him completely. She ran forward anyway: he would use it to escape, leaving Natakas. She felt through the smoke, having her wits enough to not make a sound.

When she reached him, she felt his face and his tears. She felt down his arms to the ties holding his hands behind his back and loosened them with a slight pull of her hand. She knelt down in front of him and hugged him, hearing his soft whispering against her ear.

“You’re an idiot. Why are you here. Where is your brother. You’re a fucking idiot and I’ll never forgive you for this.”

She smiled, passing him a small knife that she kept at her hip. She kissed the hand that she passed it to. “Please hide, trust me,” she whispered. Then she stood, and turned to face the Huntsman.

He was standing a way off, wolves surrounding him. She paced slowly, counting the animals and mentally tallying the number of arrows in her quiver. There might be enough for them, but he would need to be taken out by open combat.

“You tainted ones have horror following you,” he said. The wolves growled, snapping at her. “Only horror, no hope, and no love. You bring nothing to this world.”

She started shooting her arrows. Each wolf felled was replaced by two more like the heads of a hydra. She ran as she shot, avoiding their snapping jaws. He simply watched her destroy his animals, as though they were truly completely replaceable. The cavern became slick with the animal blood, and her running slowed in response.

The last wolf fell on her sword, her arrows exhausted long before the wolves ran out. She then turned to the Huntsman and began to stalk him. His shoulder wound was still intact, with her spear protruding through both sides. That arm seemed lost to him, hanging limply at his side with blood pouring from the wound.

“You’ll not stop us,” he said. “We’re only now entering Hellas, we will always come for you.”

“Then you come in vain. I’ll destroy every last one of you.” She handled her sword, mere metres from him.

He laughed again. “We will endure the centuries, and destroy your entire lineage. Nothing of your kind will remain.”

She stopped within striking distance and raised her sword.

“You are nothing,” she said, and drove her sword through his chest.

He gasped, looking at the blood erupting from the wound. He fell to the ground, still breathing slightly.

“We … will … find … you …,” he said.

Then he was still. Dead. Kassandra retrieved her weapons from him, and turned away, ready to return to her home and sleep for a week.

She couldn’t see Natakas, but couldn’t wait to leave the cavern.

She waited a day for him to emerge from the hideout, but he didn’t. Instead, a messenger caught her sitting outside with a hastily written note from him.

My father found me and we fled. I don’t know where we’re going. I’m sorry. I’ll write you some jokes soon. N.

Kassandra crumpled the note in her hand, bitterly disappointed. She hired a horse and made her way home, hoping to catch up to Alexios on the road. She found him in Boeotia, Phobos trustily sending him home.

His reception was incredibly cold, as she expected.

“I’m sorry,” she started. “I planned to get you out only, but other things got in the way.”

“Your new friends? So was it a trap?” he asked smugly.

“No,” she replied, swapping horses with Alexios. She gently stroked Phobos’ neck. “But my new friend almost lost his head so I’m glad I didn’t hesitate.”

Alexios grunted. Kassandra guessed they would talk about this later.

But for now, they made their way back to their Mater, trying to decide just how much they would tell her.

Nothing, was the decision. And it was a decision they both agreed upon.