Helena sat on the sand oblivious to the sweat that dropped from her forehead to her white tunic. She watched while the men worked and as she watched she questioned her decision to wait for the men to finish with what they were doing. What had possessed her to spend more time with them? Was it simply the novelty of meeting people who were so different from the Camelornians or was it the handsome stranger who made her feel things she shouldn’t be feeling? More than once he cast glances her way as though checking to see if she was still there and every time he did that she went weak in the knees. She was grateful to be sitting as she was, it wouldn’t do to let him know that he made her feel dizzy and feminine and foolish. What was it about him anyway, she thought in annoyance.
Demeus directed the men on their work. Since the previous night they had sailed into the ocean to fish and to gather salt, the white crystals, from the shore to take back to the village. He could not stop himself from glancing back at the vision of fiery beauty that sat a few feet from where they worked watching them. He could not for the life of him explain why he had interfered when Banjo gripped her arm. Usually, he minded his business and went about his work without care for anything but this woman caught his interest right from the time she walked up to them.
It was not unusual to see someone like her in Eyrotian. Merchants came and went everyday and when they did it was simply to do business and pleasure, nothing more. It was not unknown for merchants to bring their sons along with them on journeys to teach them the ways of business but it was rare that a merchant would bring his daughter. And what a daughter this was! Everything about her was fiery; from her flame red hair to her fire spitting eyes. He smiled slightly as he remembered the venomous look she had given him when he implied that being a woman she would not be able to protect herself. But as he studied her more closely he realized that she was more than capable of defending herself. Her arms were lean but muscled in a way that showed she was more than capable of handling her own and the fire in her eyes was just enough to turn a man to ashes. How could a merchant allow his daughter to wander so far away from the village? And what sort of merchant was he that his daughter was built like she worked in the fields all day?
There was a something about her, something that raised the hair on his arms. If he could reach his god powers he would test them to see if his suspicion was correct. She had a faint air of powers around her but he could not ask her about it, not in the presence of these men who believed he was human like them.
Demeus was the god of gods in Eyrotia. Though he was worshipped by all of Eyrotia and there were statues of him in almost every temple and idols in his image in many households barely anyone knew what he looked like except other gods. He loved it that way because it gave him the avenue to escape his god duties and live among his creatures. He could be anything. He could be a wealthy merchant from a faraway kingdom, he could be a beggar, a fisherman like he was today, a blacksmith…anything! And no one would know that the person with whom they spoke was their very own Demeus, king of the gods of Eyrotia.
All morning he and the men with him had taken their nets to the sea to fish. It has been a normal day, uneventful until this redheaded woman with a face as beautiful as sin came to disturb the peace now he found himself wondering about her over and over. He noticed that some of the men were more respectful to her now and she spoke to them in their language which was too fluent coming from a foreigner. He observed as she asked the men questions about their work. Fascinated by her curiosity he chipped in.
“Is this your first time with fishermen?”
Surprised by his question when all he has been doing was cast glances her way without a word Helena nodded.
“Yes,” she tried her best to avoid his eyes, those beautiful eyes that drew her in. She was a wife for heavens sake! A mother! Why should the eyes of a man make her feel this way?
“What sort of work does your father do?” he asked.
“He is a merchant.”
Demeus raised a brow and waited for her to go on. When all she did was fold her legs up to rock on her bottom he raised his palms upward and asked. “Well? I already know he is a merchant but what sort of merchandise does he trade in?”
She racked her brain for something to say. It had not occurred to her that he would want to know more about her. Curse this man! What was his business anyway? Did he suspect that she had lied?
When she looked up at him she found him waiting for her response. With a sigh that was very much fake she responded.
“Well, he sells cotton and silk.”
The men glanced at one another and exchanged look she could not quite understand.
“Eyrotians do not buy cotton and silk. We grow our cotton and harvest our own silk.”
How was she to know that? She scrambled her brain for a reasonable explanation.
“Well, he is currently not in Eyrotia, he is in a neighboring village not far from here but he gave me his permission to explore. I have always wanted to see to Eyrotia.”
The men nodded at her explanation a d continued with their work giving her a moment to catch her breath. What if there was no neighboring village? She would have been found out as an imposter.
“I suppose your father should be in Jamark village then, they are the ones who can’t grow their own cotton. Lazy lots,” one of the men said and the others agreed. The others except the one with the white eyes who looked like he doubted her story. Well that was his business.
"Eyrotia has one of the largest shipment of cotton going to other kingdoms," one of the men informed her.
"It does not make sense that they should not import cotton just because they grow theirs. You can never have too much of anything," Helena argued.
The men laughed.
"You really are a stranger here, madam, to think that we can ever run out of cotton," Demeus said.
Helena was just about to point out the foolishness in making such a statement when he called out to the men that their work was over. He motioned for her to stand.
One by one the men picked up the packets of fish and salt they had been tying, threw them over their shoulders and started to walk away from the shore towards the main land. Demeus reached to help the redheaded beauty up but she rejected his offer, stood up, dusted herself and started to follow the men.
Helena once again began the question her decision to follow the men. The son was scorching and her skin itched, the hair on her forehead was wet and many times she had to move it from her face. Sweat poured down her chest and armpits wetting her clothes. She considered finding an excuse to leave the men so she could go back to Mount Kpamos but how was she to do that? Her sight was getting blurry and her head was getting some light she feared she would faint. Contrary to what she felt the men moved on like they could not feel the scorch of the sun and wind. They walked barefooted on the hot sand with quick steps that she was struggling to keep up with. Just when she thought she would faint from sheer exhaustion something cool was placed over her head and a hand was nudging something into hers. She looked up, craning her neck to have a better look, at the white-eyed man who nodded at her as an encouragement to take the canteen he was pressing in her palms. “It is cool
It amazed her that the people of the Eyrotian fisherman village did not treat her any different from them. According to what Ramus told her there were used to seeing merchants of various colors come to the village to trade for salt. The only special treatment she received was from the children who wanted to play with her hair. She let them braid her hair while the women worked all day until the sun began to set. As the sun was going down behind the clouds the smell of cooking filled the air. Spicy aromas filled the air making her mouth water. The men who had gone into their buildings to rest before came outside and sat in chairs made of cane. When the women were done cooking they brought the pots and bowls together and everyone say in a ring to eat. The harmony and communalism with which they lived were foreign to Helena. They dished food in every pot regardless of whose it was. Demeus selected a bowl for her and dished some spicy soup in it. She accepted it with a smile and
Demeus walked the length of the small man-made creek the fishermen used for their water source. Up until today he never had a reason to linger at that creek deep in thought but tonight he did have a reason and that reason was in form of a redheaded, hot-blooded woman that made the blood in his vein run hot. He sat at the bank of the creek with his back towards the village. Everyone was asleep by now and only the sound of the nocturnal insects pierced the night. Usually, he would make a quiet exit during the night whenever he was done assisting the fishermen but this night he didn’t want to leave. What was it about the free-spirited, fire-spitting Helena that made him feel like a young randy god again? For years he vowed never to be affected by any woman again since the one woman he loved gave herself to another god just before their wedding feast. That woman was the goddess of the waters, Oya, known for her full figure, beautiful smooth skin, and tall elegance. He had loved
The wave of teleporting faded slowly and once she could breathe again Helena made her way to her temple which was quiet and almost empty save from a few servants who she knew would be in their chambers or the temple of some other gods. She made her way to her room and realized that she was still holding the package Demeus had given her, heat suffused her cheeks at the thought of him. She started to open the package to see what he packed for her when she tensed. There was a change in the atmosphere. A god was coming. As fast as she could she hid the sack and concealed it with her powers. She had barely finished when the door to her chamber was blown open. Robos. He liked to make an entrance. He filled every corner of the entrance with his huge frame. She swallowed. She was scared of him but she was worried that he knew about her disappearance. “Helena, queen of the gods and the woman who has captured my heart,” he rumbled as he came close to he
Her happiness was short-lived. As soon as the race was over she leaned back in her seat to laugh over the sour defeat of the dragons but caught the sight of a familiar figure from the side of her eyes. It was the figure of Adna, the goddess of excess and as was natural to her, she held a jar of mead in one hand while the other dangled over the shoulder of a very beautiful male Aloni. Adna was a beautiful dark head goddess, willowy and tall but her elegance was destroyed by her love for the mead. She was laughing and staggering drunkenly. She caught sight of Helena and went over to meet her. The Aloni stood behind her as a show of submission as he bowed his head in Helena’s direction. “Your highness,” she spoke in a slur as she dipped to a drunken bow. “I never thought I would see you here Queen Helena.” She flicked something off the Aloni’s shoulder. “I am just coming from Robos’ temple where he…,” The Aloni must have pinched her as a warning because she jumped sligh
“Where are we walking to?” Demeus smiled at the sound of her voice. Some of her fierce spirits had returned since they started walking away from the ocean. He looked behind him and found her frowning at the horizon with impatience furrowing her brows. “You’ll see,” he called back at her. “I don’t want to see, Ramus, tell me where we are going or I swear by the gods I’ll turn around now and go back home.” His lips twitched. Was it bad that he liked her better when she was angry she talkative? Helena waited for a response and when none came doubled her steps and half-ran until she was walking side by side with him. “Well? You’re not trying to abduct me are you?” Demeus chuckled. Woe to the man who tried to abduct this woman, he would find himself either wanting to tie her mouth shut or kiss those lips. And he knew how much he wanted to do the latter which was why he tried avoiding her gaze. “I have a horse,” he said in re
They rode for hours before coming upon the main city of Eyrotia. And as expected it was crowded. At the center of the city was a high wall surrounding the king’s castle, the bricks were strong and the irons were used in barring the windows of the towers were painted black. Flags bearing the Eyrotian arms of the rising Phoenix blew in the wind. Soldiers stood with spears, swords and arrows on the towers overlooking the city. Helena drank in the sights of all of these. Around them, people moved about their business speaking loudly or whispering to one another. They were dressed in fur clothes while some were dressed in rich expensive-looking silks, cotton and amongst these were those who wore shabby raffia clothing. Soldiers on horses passed theirs, Demeus nodded to them as they passed. These were his people, the ones who worshipped him, they offered sacrifices to him for blessings and protection. It never ceased to amaze how easily he could walk among mere mortals and non of
Helena watched in a daze as Demeus spoke to the woman in hushed tones. Her palms grew wet and clammy and she could swear that sweat was pouring from her forehead causing her hair to plaster itself against her skin. The innkeeper glanced in her direction once and nodded then turned back to Demeus. She watched as the innkeeper pocketed the coins Demeus had dropped on the table and took a key from the board behind her. She handed the key to Demeus and tilted her head in the direction of the stairs leading to the rooms. “The rooms are up there,” she said in Eyrotian language. Helena feared that her heartbeat would be heard because it was so loud she could practically hear the beat of blood in her ears. How was she to quietly tell him that she could not share a room with him, not just because she was married and had a child but because she couldn’t trust herself not to act on the strange attraction she felt towards this man. But he was a fisherman and fishermen were not w