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 water. You look parched.”
Even though she knew she would express her gratitude something possessed her to put her guard up against his kindness. As she opened her mouth to respond with some witty comment he interrupted her.
“Just say thank you and have a drink.”
She closed her mouth in defeat and with a venomous look at him took a swig from the canteen. The cool liquid soothed her throat as it ran down. Her heavy tongue swallowed hungrily at the water until she almost emptied the canteen. When she dropped it from her lip she caught the men exchanging humorous glances at her actions. Suddenly embarrassed she handed the canteen back to him and mouthed a thank you. He nodded.
Her hands automatically went to the slightly damp cloth he placed over her. The material was soft and light against her and it effectively shielded her from the sun. She was entirely grateful but some independent part of her was hurt. She wasn’t used to having people show random acts of kindness to her. Even the servants of Kpamos had to be commanded to do something so his kindness to her was foreign.
“My name is Ramus.” That was what he told the men his name was to protect his god identity.
She looked up slightly from beneath the cloth at him. He was watching her expectantly.
“Helena,” she said then realized later that she had given her real name. Why had she spoken so quickly? Was there any possibility that she would be recognized as a god? But how can when she was far away from Camelorn? Who would recognize her when these people had gods of their own?
Convinced that her identity was safe she calmed her fears.
“Helena,” Demeus said. “You are from a very distant land.”
Helena stiffened her spine against the shiver that ran through her at the mention of her name on his lips. His deep voice and thick accent made her name sound exotic and she loved it. Oh, why in the heavens did she meet this man today? She could have lived a thousand years without knowing that someone like this man existed. How was she to go back to Kpamos with the memory of this man while being forced to be the loyal wife of Robos?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the shout of one of the men who notified the others that they were close to the village. The men began to walk faster. From behind them, Helena saw the outline of a village, more like a cluster of strange buildings with roofs made of grass. The buildings were red and built in a circular design. As they got closer they could hear the voices of women and children.
Before they got any closer Demeus bent to whisper to Helena.
“This is the village of the fishermen. This is where their families stay until they are ready to transport the fishes and salt to the main kingdom.”
“What is salt?” Helena asked with a furrowed brow.
“Those white crystals you saw us pick from the shore are salt. The women will work on cleaning them and then transport them to Eyrotia.” After a moment's silence Demeus leaned in again. “You said you only wanted to explore. I suppose your family should be waiting for you in Jamark.”
Oh, she had completely forgotten about that lie. But she didn’t even know Jamark. She could teleport herself there but being with these people was very tempting.
Demeus waited for her to answer his unasked question. He held his breath as he waited for her response.
“If this is not Eyrotia then I suppose my journey is not over yet. This might be the only time I have to travel again before my father marries me off.”
“Are you promised to be married to another?” Demeus asked.
“Eventually, yes.” She was getting better at this lying game. “But I have nowhere to stay. Will I be welcomed here?”
Trying to keep the excitement from his voice and face Demeus nodded.
“Of course. We are set to leave for Eyrotia in the next two days in fact so you’re welcome to stay. Will your father not be worried?”
She shrugged. “Father lets me do as I please.”
He smiled.
Of course.
Woe to the man who would marry this free-spirited woman. She was bold, strong, courageous – everything he desired. He doubt her father ever told her no. She was probably too stubborn to know what the word meant.
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
“The dress is not tight, my lady, you’re wearing it the wrong way.” Helena raised an eyebrow at the maid the innkeeper had sent to help her dress. The maid came forward and unbuckled the hooks holding the dress up, she helped Helena locate where to put her hands then buckled it up for her. It was a dark red tunic that stopped at her sandaled feet, over the thick material was a veil of see-through silk that had blew gently in the wind. “You will need this.” The maid pulled a veil from the bundle of clothes Likia had sent to her. She pinned Helena’s hair up and attached the veil to it before wrapping round. “Have you done this before?” Helena asked. The maid giggled. “Yes, my lady, I have taken care of many merchants' daughters. They always love my services.” She brought the mirror from the dressing room and handed it to Helena. Helena gawked at the image she saw. The only time she had ever looked this good was during her wedding feast with Robos. The m