Chapter I-XIII - Seeking out the Past

Trevander wandered the village, feeling out of place. The streets were wild with activity as the villagers celebrated the downfall of the tyrant and mourned the loss of the dead. A stranger to this community, he had no place in either activity.

Earlier, he had been swept away with the crowd when the tyrant had been defeated and nearly followed the crowd back to the fortress as Villetes was being taken to be locked away in his own dungeon. He managed to break away when he saw the ground by Villetes' feet where Onyx had fell. A smear of dark red blood was left behind and a trail of droplets marked her path. He decided to follow.

As the crowd made their way up the hill to the fortress, he went alone around the corner of a building towards the edge of the village. He had lost the trail when he reached the grassy area between the village and the wooded area beyond.

He stood a moment surveying the area, squinting into the late afternoon sunlight, looking for some hint as to where she'd gone. He found none. The amount of blood left at the site indicated that her injury must have been severe in spite of how quickly she had fled the scene. He knew she couldn't have traveled far or kept up her pace for long. If her injuries were extensive, she might be lying somewhere dying and if he didn't find her in time, he'd never get the answers to his questions.

He walked forward, carefully searching the area, trying to find some sign of Onyx. He spent the next few hours looking for her as the sun set and twilight set in. When it finally started to get too dark for him to see, he gave up the search and went back to the village.

The village was busy with activity by the time he returned. An orange glow lit up the village square as crowds gathered around brightly burning bonfires. He heard the commotion long before he could see what was going on. Cheers and shouts, wails and moans mixed together into a cacophony of sound. He walked into the crowd past mourners wailing, on their knees, pulling at their hair in grief; past celebrants drinking, singing, and cheering the fall of the tyrant; and past more sober groups discussing politics amongst themselves, expressing their opinions on what should be done with Villetes and where the village should seek out leadership next.

Trevander kept his eyes open for Onyx and for Penelope. He hadn't seen the younger woman since they'd fallen into the thick of the fighting. Whether she'd been injured or killed or escaped unharmed he had no idea, but he hoped to find out.

Most of the villagers were too wrapped up in their own activities to take note of him, but whenever he encountered someone not distracted and sober enough to talk, he tried to ask about the two women as best as he could. Since both were also strangers to this village and he had little information to give, his search was not fruitful and he had to give up without coming any closer to finding either woman.

Exhausted and discouraged, Trevander had to admit defeat and gave up for the night. He started looking for an inn in which to spend the night and vowed to continue his search in the morning when hopefully things would be calmer and he might have better luck.

With some guidance from a passerby, Trevander found an inn. When he entered he was taken aback by the amount of activity inside. The building was filled with the injured, lying on makeshift beds on the floor of the entryway, as their caretakers rushed back and forth, busy with the tasks of caring for the wounded. Startled, he just stood in the doorway and stared for a moment not sure if he should continue on through or go back out and try his luck elsewhere. Before he could make up his mind he caught the eye of a woman carrying a bucket of hot water and an armful of bandages.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked breathlessly. She was clearly in a hurry, but there was no hint of impatience in her voice.

"I was looking for a place to stay the night, but I can see you're filled up."

"Yes," she huffed, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "We have a lot of beds so we ended up being the place for those who are too injured to go home or those who have no one else to take care of them. We may be able to find a corner for you. I'm afraid you won't be able to expect much in the way of quiet or privacy though."

"That's alright," Trevander declined. He could find somewhere else to spend the night, but at the moment another idea had come to mind. "I don't want to keep you from what you're doing, but maybe you can help me. I'm looking for someone. A woman. Well, two women actually. One is younger, the other is very old. I don't know if they might be here."

"Relatives of yours?" she asked as she started to walk down the hallway.

"No, not really," Trevander said as he followed her. He wasn't sure why he needed to add the qualifier at the end. Neither were related to him at all, but he also didn't want to try to explain their relationships. He wasn't sure he would know how.

"There was an old woman brought here earlier, but no young women. She won't tell us her name or where she lives or who her family is. She is very old though, so she may be senile. She let us tend to her wounds, but wouldn't let anyone take her boots off. So strange how older folks can turn. Could that be who you're looking for?"

"Yes, possibly. Could I see her?"

The woman nodded as she passed the water and bandages to another worker, then motioned for Trevander to follow her to another room.

"We've put her in a bed in the corner of the kitchen to give her a little more privacy from the injured men that are here and we thought she might be more comfortable near the fire." She stopped short of the door and spoke quietly to Trevander. "I should warn you, her injury is severe. She was cut very deeply in the abdomen and has lost a lot of blood and at her age..." she dropped her voice even lower. "It would be miraculous if she survives the night. There's not much we can do but try to make her as comfortable as possible. I hope you do know who she is so we can contact her kin. She won't tell us any anything except that she needs to get to some tavern out of town. Maybe that's the senility talking, but even if she does have someone there to take care of her, she would never survive the trip."

Trevander nodded knowingly. He was almost certain now that the woman she was talking about was Onyx, but he was anxious to see for himself. "I'll try to find out," he promised.

The woman smiled gratefully and opened the door for him to go in.

Trevander walked into a fairly large room with a table and lit fireplace to one side. The flickering of the fire and a candle on the nightstand next to the bed cast strange shadows across the room. One corner of the room had been partitioned off by a stretched hide. In the corner he saw Onyx laying on the bed with her eyes closed, her thin white hair spread across the pillow framing her withered head. She was lying flat on her back with only a thin blanket covering her thin frame. He stepped forward cautiously, afraid to disturb the quiet in the room. Onyx lay so motionlessly and still that he was afraid that he had come too late. As he stepped closer, Onyx's eyes suddenly snapped open. She turned her head slightly and focused her piercing stare on him. The simple action was so startling that he froze in place.

"Come closer, child," she croaked. "I can't have you turning timid towards me now. Sit."

Trevander pulled a chair over to the bed and sat by the bedside as the woman who had brought him here left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Onyx closed her eyes a moment as if regrouping her strength, then sighed. "Good. I can use you."

"Me?" he asked. He had hoped to drive the topic of conversation in order to finally get the answers he had been searching for, but as always in the old woman's presence, he found himself at a loss of words. Now that she was in such a vulnerable state he was hesitant to press her with hard questions. "What for?"

"A couple of things. Firstly, I need to get back to the tavern where you found me. My supplies are there. The taverness will know what to do to help me heal."

Trevander looked down at the side of her body and frowned. He couldn't see any hint of her injury through the blanket, her clothing, and the bandages that were surely suppressing the bleeding, but he couldn't help imagining them and thinking of the woman's words in the hallway. "Do you think you can?" He asked hesitantly. "I heard your injury is . . . severe."

"I won't die, if that's what you're hinting at. That's not even a concern," she scoffed. A humorless chuckle escaped her lips and the effort of that minor action made her wince in pain. "But I won't heal without help. I need you to arrange transportation for me; you can wait until morning if you must. If you cannot find someone to transport me, you will have to get word to the tavern owner and have him come for me. Can you do that?"

"Yes, I suppose," Trevander replied slowly. His brow was furrowed with doubt and confusion as he tried to make sense of the situation. "Can you answer some questions for me first?"

"Oh, yes, about the stones," she said knowingly. "And you've been waiting so patiently. What can I tell you about them?"

"Everything," he answered simply. She turned and locked eyes with him. With much effort he managed to hold her gaze. He felt like he could see the past in her eyes. He didn't know how many decades or how many centuries those eyes had seen, but in his mind he was seeing a moment in the past when he was a young child.

He could remember clearly seeing this same old woman talking with his father as they stood along the riverside near the old house where had been born, the home he hadn't seen since his mother had died. He had been wary of her then and tried to stay out of sight as he curiously watched them from a distance. He hadn't been able to conceal himself well enough to go past Onyx's notice. When the old woman had left that day, she had stared at him with that same piercing stare, with those same murky green eyes. He wondered now as she stared at him, if she saw that same moment, that little boy that he once was. He felt that she knew exactly what he wanted to know without him having to ask.

"Everything is a lot to tell. Years and years of information is surely more than you could care to hear and would take more effort than I have to recall."

"Then what are they?" he asked. "I've been trying to research and I've heard rumors, but . . ."

"The rumors are true," she cut him off. "Skeptics will dismiss them as myths, legends, but they are the story of my life." She paused to see if he would interject, but when he only waited patiently, she decided to continue. Speaking was difficult, even simple movements were painful to her. She laid still and spoke in a low, even voice that he had to strain to hear.

"My brother and I were born to a wood nymph mother and a satyr father. We were considered rejects, outcast from our mother's community, estranged from the father we never knew, and reviled by men. From the time we were old enough to fend for ourselves, we lived alone in our little home in the woods outside of Amphidelphos. I was content there, just he and I, but my brother was not; he wanted more than I. He wanted to belong and if he could not be accepted, he wanted revenge on those who rejected us. We both studied ancient magic and grew very strong and powerful. We sought the powers of the gods. I was looking for the key to immortality; he was looking for power.

"After . . . an incident with men from the village, a long story that probably isn't of particular interest to you, he went into a rage. He threatened to destroy the village and everyone who lived there, but first he threatened to overthrow the gods who made us outcasts amongst all.

"I went with him as he traveled to the foot of Mount Olympus and stood at his side as he raged at the gods until they came down to face him.

He fought bravely, but in the end he was no match for the gods of Olympus.

The power of Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, and Hephaestus combined surged into him and filled him with such . . . brightness and strength as I had never seen and one could never imagine unless they had witnessed it as I had. It split him into four pieces, the four stones which were scattered to the four corners of the earth. He was turned into the powers of the gods, but my brother, as I knew him, was no more.

"When the gods left, they left me with a gift as well. They granted me the power I sought, immortality, but denied me the benefit of everlasting youth. So here I grow older and older each year, but I cannot die. My brother and I are both cursed to these fates until the end of time or until I can unite the four stones together to restore my brother to life and myself to my youth.

"For two centuries now I have sought the stones. For many years I have had three of the stones under my control, but the fourth eludes me. But I am so close now, so close," she spoke barely above a whisper, but excitement shone brightly in her eyes. "I'm almost free."

She fell silent, but Trevander didn't speak. He studied the old woman, deeply wrinkled and nearly toothless. She looked older than anyone he had ever seen and was, if her story was true. Lying in this bed she seemed so small and fragile as if she could wither away before his eyes or disintegrate into dust, but at the same time there was an otherworldly strength in her eyes. The protrusions on her forehead and her long, heavy nails lent to the appearance of something not fully human. In the light of day those traits were easy to ignore, but in this eerily darkened room with the story of her past lingering in the air, they were undeniable.

"The three of the four stones under your control-" he started. His voice came out as a croak and much weaker than he had intended. He could hardly bring himself to finish his thought, but he didn't have to.

"Are held for me by various warlords. The individuals have changed over the years, but they have all been ambitious men who welcomed the chance to use the powers of the stones for their own gains and whose desire for more power has made them loyal, which brings me to my second task for you." She slowly reached a hand underneath the pillow on which her head was resting. She fished around with her fingers for a moment before retrieving a small leather pouch. She handed it to him. "I need someone to hold this for me."

"What is it?" he asked taking it from her.

"The stone of Zeus."

He recoiled, still holding the pouch in the space between them, hesitant to bring it closer to him as if it were poisonous.

"Go ahead, open it," she urged.

"Is it- what will it do to me?"

"The stones give the holder all the powers of the gods. The Zeus stone gave Villetes authority and leadership. It made him seem larger than life. Without it, he was nothing out of the ordinary. He was only able to hold Cynara by its power. I saw it drop from him during the battle. Once it fell, so did he."

Trevander remembered how quickly the battle had turned. It was as if Villetes' men had woken up from a trance, like they no longer knew who or what they were fighting for. It had seemed instantaneous.

"But there are negative effects as well, aren't there?" he asked pointedly.

"There may be, but those are not always so apparent, especially at first. Villetes had not been exposed to the Zeus stone for very long at all. The previous holder held it much longer. Villetes was disappointing, but for me he did what I needed him to do. Don't worry about the stone harming you. When you touch it, when you use it, you will take on the traits of the gods, good and bad. When you set it aside, they fade."

"So its effects are always reversible?" Trevander asked, mulling over this information.

She shrugged slightly, indifferent to the answer to that question. "Open the pouch," she urged.

Trevander hesitated, but warily followed the old woman's request. He pulled open the drawstring and peered into the pouch. Inside was a medallion on a golden chain. He recognized it as one he saw Villetes wearing before. Gingerly, he reached his fingers inside to lift it out. He felt a small jolt of energy when his fingers made contact with the metal. It was strong enough to make him hesitate, but slight enough that he thought the sensation might have just been his imagination.

"Go on," Onyx urged, her eyes wide and eager.

Trevander hesitated, growing increasingly wary, but his curiosity was getting the better of him and he lifted the medallion out of the pouch. When he held the medallion fully in the palm of his hand he felt a sharp jolt as if a bolt of lightening was passing through him, the sound of wind whistled in his ears, and he felt as if his body were expanding, filling with air. He felt like he was growing larger, taller, stronger, more powerful. Suddenly it was as if the world was his and his alone and he was capable of anything. He was unstoppable.

He didn't like the feeling. As soon as he became aware of himself, he opened his palm and let the medallion drop to the floor.

While he was still recovering from the effects of the stone, the old woman pulled herself up more quickly than he thought possible and turned to sweep the medallion up off the floor. With the blankets now moved aside he could see blood from her wound seeping through the bandages and her nightgown along the side of her body. Once the medallion was securely in the palm of her hand, she groaned and grimaced as she pulled herself back up into the bed. She laid back, closing her eyes tightly and panting from the exertion.

"I'm sorry. Are you alright? Should I call for someone to help?" he asked.

She shook her head and waved away the suggestion dismissively; then she motioned for the pouch.

Meekly, he handed it to her. When she set the medallion on her stomach as she struggled with the drawstrings, Trevander got a better look at the actual stone set in the medallion. The stone was perfectly round and smooth. The color at first appeared light blue streaked with white, but the longer Trevander looked at it, the more it changed. As he leaned in for a closer look, he noticed the colors seems to shift across the surface like clouds drifting across an afternoon sky. Then it seemed to darken to a deep, mottled gray, still swirling, like darkened clouds gathering before a storm.

He jumped back when Onyx snatched up the medallion and tucked it back into the pouch.

"Hold on to it this time," she ordered as she pressed the pouch into his hand. "I'm trusting you to keep this safe for me until the time I am ready for it."

"But why? Why do you need someone else to take it?"

"Because I can't be around them for long periods of time. The stones make me weak. They pain me, like a piercing through my skull. I can't keep them myself; it has to be someone else." She shook her head. Seeming to have regained some strength back after her previous exertion she mustered a pained grin. "I don't think anyone has ever thought to ask me that; usually they don't see beyond the power I'm offering them for themselves and the further powers they can gain by continuing to help me. You wouldn't care if I told you that holding multiple stones only increases their power, would you?" She smirked at him, amused, as he seemed at a loss for a response. "That's what I usually tell someone new to drive them to search for the stones that are missing. Instead, I will just tell you directly, I want you to help me obtain the stone I am missing so that I can reverse the curse the gods have placed on us."

"And you think Penelope has the fourth stone, the stone of Hephaestus?"

"I'm sure of it. It's her bloodline, her ancestor that fueled my brother's fire. The Hephaestus stone will always make its way back to that source. I can sense it near her. It must be close." She exhaled deeply. "I can speak no more now. I must rest, gather my strength for the trip tomorrow. You will do these things I've asked, won't you?"

Trevander nodded, speechless. He wasn't sure if he agreed, but he could think about that later. The air in this dim room had grown stale and felt too close.

She reached out a bony, wrinkled hand and patted his arm. "Your father has served me well these last years. I trust you will as well." Her tone seemed soft, but the piercing look in her eyes was anything but. She was not a woman who would stand to be crossed. "Help me and I will reward you well. You only need name what you want in return."

She pulled back her hand and laid it over her stomach. She leaned back and closed her eyes with a deep sigh. The conversation was over.

Trevander rose from the chair and crossed the room, the pouch held tightly in his fist. He walked out of the building without a second glance at the wounded in the hallways and without looking for the woman who had shown him to Onyx's room. He had no other thought at the moment other than getting away.

Once he opened the outer door and stepped outside, the cool night air seemed to jostle him awake and he breathed it in deeply as he walked out onto the street. He tossed the pouch in his hand lightly, gauging the weight of it not only in his hand, but in his mind. He huffed out a sharp breath, shook his head, and shoved the pouch deeply into his pocket. He didn't want to look at it. He knew there were other men who wanted this stone so badly they would have stopped at no lengths to get it, but he hadn't asked for it. He didn't want it, but maybe there was something he could do with it and with the information Onyx had given him. He didn't fully trust her, so he would have to proceed carefully with whatever he did next. He those thoughts aside for the moment and focused on finding a quiet place to spend the night. He had a lot to think about before morning.

Chapter I-XII - No Victory

Penelope stood at the open doorway of her brother's house, watching the activity in the village. Fires were lit in the now darkened town square as villagers danced and sang, celebrating the fall of the tyrant.

Not all of the activity was joyous. The sobs and wails of those mourning the loss of their loved ones joined with the sounds of celebration, reminding everyone that no victory was without loss.

"Do you see Stephan yet?" Deiandra asked as she returned downstairs after putting the children to bed. She crossed over to the doorway, standing next to Penelope. "I hope they settle down soon," she said. "I could hardly get the children to sleep with all that noise. . . Oh, look there he is now. Good."

The women moved aside to let Stephan enter the house. He closed the door behind him, blocking out some of the revelry as he came inside. He crossed the room and sat down at the table. Fortunately he had suffered no wounds more than minor cuts and bruises, but it was clear the day had left him exhausted.

"I was starting to wonder if you were ever coming home," Deiandra said. "I thought you were supposed to be off watch an hour ago."

"I was," Stephan replied. "Afterwards I was talking with some of the men about what is to be done next."

"With Villetes?" Penelope asked. After the battle, the tyrant had been taken captive and held prisoner in his own dungeon until it was decided what was to be done with him. She'd overheard some of the villagers call for his execution and others for his imprisonment.

"Yes, to some extent, but more about who or what will replace him. I'm hoping for a village council to be established."

"Like the one Father was a part of back home in Amphidelphos," Penelope said sadly.

Both Stephan and Deiandra looked at her questioningly and Stephan motioned for her to sit down. "Now, isn't it time you told us why you're here on your own? Does father know where you are?"

Penelope shook her head. For a moment she was afraid she had lost her ability to speak. "No, he's dead."

Deiandra gasped and put a hand to her mouth. Stephan stared in disbelief.

"What? What happened?"

Penelope took a deep breath and tried to find the words to tell the story. "Last fall there was an attack on the homestead," she spoke slowly, taking time to choose her words.

"An attack?" Stephan asked, his brows furrowed and his voice anxious. "By whom?"

"It was too dark to see, but . . ."

"You think it was the Tarpuses?" he finished for her. Then muttered under his breath, "Who else?"

"The night before the attack Georgius and his men came to the door looking for Nik, but he wasn't there. He'd left the day before."

"Wait, what happened with Nik? Where did he go?"

"I'm not sure." Penelope shrugged off his questions. She didn't have any easy answer for that, not one that wouldn't take a long explanation. "Georgius came to the door because his younger son, Griffin, was killed in the night and they suspected Nik of his murder."

"What? That's ludicrous!" Stephan exclaimed. "What evidence did they have?"

"None, really. What evidence could they have? He obviously didn't do it. He would never."

"I know that," Stephan agreed heartily. "Was it about that girl, Sapphira? I knew Nik liked her and found it odd when she showed up here, suddenly on Rudicles' arm instead."

"And as I recall, it didn't take long before she was Villetes' woman," Deiandra added with a raised eyebrow.

"She at Villetes' side and Rudicles in Villetes' dungeon," Stephan remarked.

"I think it was about her, somewhat," Penelope continued. "She chose Rudicles over Nik and that's why he left to get away for awhile. Rudicles wasn't about to let the rivalry go. He was furious when Father told him Nik was gone. He didn't believe it and wanted to search the house, but Georgius made him back off and they left.

"That night after dinner, there was a commotion outside. When Father went out to look, he found the barn and the year's entire harvest up in flames. Men on horseback were circling around the barnyard, but their faces were covered and it was too dark to make out any features," she paused a moment to take a breath. The details, as they came back to her, were overwhelming. She could almost taste the smoke in the air as she remembered watching the flickering flames in the darkness and feeling the utter chaos and panic of everyone around her. Stephan and Deiandra were now too engrossed in the tale to interrupt with questions, so she forced herself to press on.

"We all went out to try to put out the flames. Audacia and Gerthe went to get David, but he never came and they never came back. In all of the chaos of the night, everyone got scattered and separated. The harvest was destroyed. In the morning only Father, Seth, and I returned."

"Then what happened?" Stephan asked, the anxiousness had gone out of his tone and his expression had turned grave.

"When Father couldn't find any trace of any of the others, he made arrangements for the three of us to leave the village by boat. Then he had to go back to the village to take care of some last minute business, but said he would be back. When he didn't . . ." Penelope could feel the emotions welling up in her chest and it became a struggle to continue on without breaking down in tears. "When he didn't come back when he said he would, Seth and I went to look for him. He told us to go without him, but . . . we couldn't. Seth and I split up to look for him and I found him . . ." The memories were too much. Tears began to fall and she couldn't go on without sobbing. Stephan clasped her arm tightly as tears threatened to fall from his own eyes and Deiandra began to sob next to him.

"He was bleeding. He'd been stabbed. He was dying," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Deiandra draped an arm over her husband's shoulder and leaned into him as he he stared forward blinking back tears. When he finally managed to speak, his voice was husky and low. "And Seth?"

Penelope shook her head and roughly wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I never saw him after we split up to find Father. We were supposed to meet on the boat, but I was too late. And no sooner had it taken off, it went up in flames."

"By the gods," Deiandra muttered.

Stephan's lips quivered as he fought to keep control of his emotions. His mouth tightened and his brows furrowed. He spoke very little. He prompted Penelope to continue. "Then what?"

"I went home and I waited. I thought someone would return but nobody did. Our cousins, aunt Minova's sons, came for a visit around the time of the solstice and I stayed with them briefly," she said, eager to skim over that part of the story. "But mostly I waited, stayed in the house, and tried not to draw attention. Finally I realized no one was coming back, so I waited until the change of the seasons and for the weather to improve and then I came here, hoping you were still in Cynara."

Stephan cursed and banged his fist on the table as he rose to his feet and started to pace the room. "I knew something was wrong. I knew we should have gone home. The guard wouldn't have liked it, but we should have gone back anyway. I should have been there."

"We couldn't have left here and you know it," Deiandra responded sharply. "If you want to discuss 'should haves' then we shouldn't have come here in the first place."

Penelope jumped back, startled at her sister-in-law's outburst. Her eyes flitted between her sister-in-law and brother, trying to read what the exchange between the two of them meant.

"Yes, I know," Stephan replied, his tone as sharp as his wife's. "You know I wasn't given much choice in the matter."

Deiandra crossed her arms firmly in front of her chest and leaned back with a huff. Her lips were tightly pursed and she said nothing.

"What do you mean?" Penelope asked her brother softly. "Why did you come here?"

Stephan frowned and exhaled sharply. "I ask myself that everyday," he muttered. He took a few more steps before deciding to return to his chair and tell his sister the story. "When I was younger, the friends I ran around with weren't the type of friends I should have made," he began slowly, carefully choosing his words. "One of them was Edwin, who since became Villetes' adviser. He'd helped me out with some things, financial matters, when I was younger and Deiandra and I were first wed. At the time he just said I could repay him later. That time came a year ago, when he approached me and said it was time to repay my debt and to do that I would need to come here to join Villetes' guard."

"So that's why you left?" Penelope asked confused.

Stephan nodded. "I got the impression that refusing wasn't a real option, at least not one without potentially worse consequences." He paused to exchange a pointed look with Deiandra who was still holding her tongue. "I tried to tell myself that this could be a good opportunity for me to strike out on my own, to not be . . ." he trailed off, dropping his eyes to the ground as a somber expression crossed his face. When he spoke again his voice was low. "in my family's shadow."

Penelope stared at him confused. "What are you talking about? And why would you need financial help? Father would have helped you."

"I know that," he said. "But I was young and proud. I wanted to do it on my own. I wanted to prove I was more than just the second son."

"But no one-" Penelope started to protest, but she was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

Stephan nodded and patted Penelope's shoulder as he rose to answer the door. "I know."

Stephan walked up to the door, set his hand on the knob, but did not open it. "Who's there?"

There was a moment of pause before a voice answered, "Rudicles."

"What do you want?" Stephan asked suspiciously.

"To speak with you. I have something I need to say to you, about Amphidelphos."

Stephan hesitated before opening the door. He stood in the doorway, but did not let Rudicles pass. "You aren't welcome here," he stated firmly.

"I'm not looking for a welcome. I have something I need to set right," Rudicles stated flatly.

Even from across the room, Penelope could see her brother stiffen. His hand twitched, eager to shut the door in Rudicles' face. "There's nothing to settle between us. You should go."

"I owe you an explanation. I've wronged you and I need to make up for that."

"There have been too many wrongs committed to ever settle the score between our families. No explanation will make any difference for what's happened to my family or to my father."

"Or to my brother," Rudicles said coldly. "Your family isn't the only one who suffered a loss and your family isn't as blameless as you would like to believe. But that's not what I'm here to discuss. It's something else. May I come inside. I'll only be a few moments and then I won't bother you again."

Stephan hesitated before stepping aside. He stayed positioned near the door as Rudicles entered. "Only a few and then you need to go." "I felt I should confess something to you," Rudicles began. "The reason Edwin recruited you to Cynara is because of me. I inadvertently asked him to summon you here."

"Inadvertently?" Stephan repeated skeptically.

"There was a misunderstanding," Rudicles explained. "It was your brother, Nikolaius, I wanted out of Amphidelphos and away from Sapphira, but Edwin thought I meant you and coerced you to leave. I wanted to apologize for my role in this and for my interference." He paused, waiting for Stephan's response, but Stephan only glared at him, so Rudicles continued speaking. "If it's any consolation, I've paid for my decision. Edwin coerced me to come here also as repayment for that favor. I lost what I was after in the first place, Sapphira, and was locked in a dungeon to be kept out of the way when Villetes decided to take her from me. During that time I had a lot of time to think about my life and my choices. I want to make amends for any wrongs I may have done and I don't want to be beholden to anyone ever again. My wrong to you was having Edwin send you here, even if it was not what I intended and I came to make that right."

Stephan eyed Rudicles skeptically. "You really didn't need to come here for this. None of that matters anymore. Villetes' has been overthrown. Edwin is gone and we're free to move on with our lives. Consider it forgotten." Stephan reached for the door, eager to get Rudicles out of his house.

"No, I can't. I can't let this go until I make amends." When Stephan tried to protest, Rudicles shook his head and pressed on. "I have some information I think you would want to know. Maybe you'll find this worth the trouble I caused you. I know where your eldest brother and his family might be."

That revelation silenced Stephan and caused Penelope to raise from her seat. "David?" she asked eagerly. "Where?"

"Pagasae or so rumor suggests."

"Rumor?" Stephan scoffed. "Rumored information is more worthless than no information. I think you should go now."

"No wait," Penelope said, stepping in front of Rudicles. "Where did you heat that? How do you know?"

"I heard that your brother came back to Amphidelphos the morning after the attack and buried your father. The man who gave him and his wife and children a ride out of Amphidelphos said they went to Pagasae."

"It makes sense," Deiandra, who had been sitting silently at the table during this exchange, muttered. "Ophelia had family in that area."

Penelope's face lit up with hope. She eagerly pressed Rudicles for more information. "Was anyone else with him? Our sisters?"

Rudicles shrugged. "I've told you all I've heard. I hope that's enough to make us even from here on."

"For this perhaps, fine. I don't care," Stephan said coldly. "But if you are in anyway responsible for the death of our father, then we will never be even. There's nothing that would ever settle the score for that."

"I'm not," Rudicles replied, his tone just as cold and calm as Stephan's, "I was part of the attack, I'll admit it, but I didn't hurt anyone that night or the next day. I was only interested in one thing, finding Nikolaius and avenging my brother. If I had found him that night, I would have killed him. If I ever see him again, that promise still stands."

"You need to go. Now." Stephan said firmly as he stood by the open door.

Rudicles nodded and without a word started towards the door.

"And take this with you," Penelope said, drawing the medallion out of her pocket and offering it to Rudicles.

He stopped and took it from her, examing the crest on the front critically. "Where did you get this?"

"Whoever attacked me on the road on the way here dropped it. It belongs to your family. You can return it to them," she said coldly. "We're even."

He frowned as he clasped the medallion in his palm and then turned to walk out of the house.

Chapter I-XI - In the Thick of It

As Trevander, Penelope, and the girls were walking away from the fortress, the blonde girl sidled up next to Penelope and asked her where they were going.

"It's a common meeting place," she said with a nod after Penelope described the location. Trevander was listening in by then and she spoke to them both. "Unfortunately, we'll have to get close to the village to reach the ruins, but we can stay along the periphery and dart behind buildings to avoid the center of town."

"Lead the way," Trevander replied.

As they approached the village the sounds of the battle, grunts and cries of fighting men, the shuffling of feet, and the clash of swords grew louder.

"The men won't take notice of us, they'll be too preoccupied with the battle," Trevander said to Penelope. "But Onyx will if we come anywhere within sight."

"So what should we do?"

He frowned, wishing he had a better answer. "Be quick, lie low, and hope we get lucky."

As they raced between buildings, Penelope looked out into the battlefield, keeping an eye out for Onyx. She hoped that the old woman wouldn't spot them. What she saw instead brought her to a halt.

It wasn't Onyx, but it was Stephan in the midst of the fighting, his sword clashing with that of his opponent.

She stood watching, her heart in her throat as the other girls continued to run past her. Trevander stopped beside her and urged her to keep going, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from her brother.

Stephan blocked another hit, but it was a strong blow that threw him off balance and nearly brought him to his knees.

A gasp escaped Penelope's lips, "Stephan!" she called out a warning as her brother's opponent brought back his sword for another swipe. The action was futile. He was too far and there was too much noise from the battle for him to possibly hear her.

Trevander had a hold of her arm now and was trying to urge her to keep moving, but she shook him away and took off in the other direction, towards her brother. She could hear Trevander call after her, but she wasn't listening. She had to reach Stephan.

She tried to keep her eyes on her brother as she made her way towards him, but it proved difficult. Bodies quickly moved between them and she had to watch in all directions in order to avoid thrusting elbows, swinging swords, and falling bodies. Soon Stephan was lost in the crowd.

She turned around frantically searching for a glimpse of him, trying to find him amongst the crowd, but she was lost. The constant movement around her had her feeling dizzy and disoriented. She no longer knew which way she came from or how to get out of the midst of the fighting.

Suddenly she felt a hand grasp tightly around her arm. When it pulled her, she did not resist, thankful for a way out of the middle of the fighting.

She didn't see who had helped her until they were away from the fighting and in the doorway of the watchtower of the village square. Free of the center of the commotion she found her breath. Although her ears were still filled with the sounds of the battle, she felt less disoriented.

"If you hold any value for your life stay out of the way and keep out of sight," Rudicles said, towering over her. "Consider us even." With those words, Rudicles drew his sword and returned to the fighting before Penelope had a chance to thank him.

Penelope took one last glance over the battle before ducking into the tower and closing the door behind her. Inside the tower was dark and quiet. She leaned back against the heavy door and closed her eyes, trying to block out the battle outside. She breathed deeply to calm herself as she waited for her heart to stop pounding so violently in her chest.

She had nearly returned to her senses when she heard the creak of another door opening, bringing with it the brightness of the daylight and the sounds of the outside battle. Her eyes snapped open and she jumped to her feet as Onyx entered.

"There you are, my child."

As the older woman walked towards her, Penelope dodged to the side. They circled around the small room until Penelope was backed up next to the foot of the narrow steps and Onyx was directly in front of her. As the old woman closed in on her there was nowhere for Penelope to go but up.

"You have not been truthful with me now, child. The pack was not where you said it was. You have wasted my time and effort on a false search," she said angrily. She spoke in a clipped sharp voice and shook her fists for emphasis as she spoke. "I will not be lied to."

"I couldn't tell you where it was," Penelope struggled to explain. "My brother's wife has it. Let me go and I will bring it to you. I'll bring it back right to this very spot if you will let me go get it."

The older woman stared at her with narrowed, untrusting eyes. "I find that very unlikely."

"I will." Penelope tried to speak bravely, despite the fact that she could not seem to keep herself from continuing to back away from the old woman, further and further up the winding steps. "And you will see that I don't have what you're looking for. You saw the contents of my pack at the tavern. I have nothing of worth."

"The stone of Hephaestus is what I seek," she spoke evenly as her murky green eyes focused on Penelope with such intensity that they seemed as if they could bore through her.

Penelope took another step back and bumped into the wall behind her. She felt caught in a corner with no way to escape.

"I have heard talk that your family has had it in their possession. When you came into the tavern I could sense it with you. I knew then without a doubt that it lies with you," she said as she threateningly jabbed her index finger with its unnaturally long fingernail towards Penelope's chest. "The fire always goes back to its source. I've spent the last 200 years seeking out the stones. I will not stop searching until I have all of them in my position. Even if it takes another 200 years-"

Onyx cut off suddenly. Her steady glare shifted away from Penelope and seemed to focus off into the distance.

"No," she huffed with a sharp exhalation of breath. She abruptly turned and raced back down the steps.

Penelope watched after her, puzzled by the old woman's sudden departure.

She turned around to see what had sent Onyx running away so quickly, but when she she looked out the window behind her all she could see was the fighting below.

Trevander couldn't believe he'd lost her. He had been right behind her when she took off running, but before he could catch her, the crowd had closed in on him. He had been mistaken by one of Villetes' men for a fighting villager and had to fend off an attacking guardsman. By the time he managed to break away, Penelope was nowhere to be seen.

In the meantime, more men had started to come after him, so he grabbed a weapon that had been left on the ground by a fallen fighter and prepared to defend himself. He had never been considered a strong fighter, but he tried to stay to the side and hold his own as he kept an eye out for Penelope.

Suddenly, something in the battle seemed to shift. Villetes' momentum was quickly dying down. His men lost any organization and most seemed to drop out of the fighting altogether. Trevander watched as the men around him started lowering their weapons. Some of them seemed almost lost.

Across the battlefield, Villetes himself was still fighting as fiercely as ever. He desperately shouted out commands, but they seemed to fall on deaf ears as fewer and fewer of his men were actively fighting.

Trevander barely had time to make sense of the change when he caught sight of Onyx darting across the battlefield as quickly as her aged body would carry her. He watched as she swiftly made her way towards Villetes. A stray blade caught her on the side of her body, drawing blood, but she didn't seem to notice.

When Onyx reached Villetes' side, Trevander saw her dive to the ground. He started to move closer, trying to get a better look at what was happening, but he had barely taken two steps forward before Onyx was pulling herself back to her feet. As she hurried away, one hand gripping her wounded side, Trevander saw a flash of sunlight against metal in her other hand before she hobbled away out of sight.

Trevander was tempted to chase after her, but at the moment, he was too curious about what was happening around him. Villetes was still shouting out orders, but no one was listening. Instead he was answered by a half a dozen swords at his throat. Helpless and alone, he dropped his weapon and raised his arms in surrender.