Atissa
Atissa was as surprised as the people around her. As the man fell back onto his cot, Mark stood up and stepped back, out of the man’s reach. Was he shaken by the man’s surprising action? She couldn’t tell.
Mark was hard to understand. She believed she had seen some glimmers of genuine emotion through his polite demeanor at times. Though most of the time he just seemed to be irritated to some degree or another.
Atissa thought she knew why. If the gods let the magi look into the future, they were probably constantly waiting for everyone else to catch up. It must be quite boring.
“Is he asleep, again?” she asked.
Mark nodded without taking his eyes off the man. “It seems that way.” He absentmindedly rubbed the wrist the man had grabbed.
Atissa stepped a little closer. Something about the man had caught her attention, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
He seemed to have fallen back into a deep sleep. His peaceful face still showed a trace of the broad smile. Why was he so happy to see Mark? Did he recognize him from somewhere?
“Ah… do you think he is dangerous?” Iristos asked from the door.
Atissa looked back at him, then down at the man. And she suddenly realized something. “He is very good-looking.”
He was. Even though the discoloring of his skin made him look sickly, even corpse-like, there was no denying that he was beautiful. His face was perfectly even. His skin was unblemished by scars or traces of disease. He had a lean muscular frame, neither tall nor short.
“How do you mean?” Dennia asked, stepping next to her.
For some reason, Atissa felt her cheeks turn red. Looking up at Dennia, she pointed at the sleeping man. “Well, if you ignore the color I mean.”
Dennia cocked her head. Atissa shrank under the woman gaze.
“You are right,” Dennia said after looking down at the man for a moment. “If you look beyond his pale skin, he is the most handsome man I have ever seen. Perhaps somewhere between twenty-five and twenty-nine. How old are you now, Atissa?”
Atissa quickly looked away. “Fourteen. Fifteen next month,” she said quietly. She would be considered an adult then.
“We should let the man sleep,” Mark said, maybe sensing her unease. They followed him outside.
“Master, do you know what is wrong with him?” Dennia asked.
Mark didn’t answer right away.
Atissa observed him closely. Pausing to consider his answer was a habit of his.
“You are right”, he said finally, ”he looks like he’s lost a lot of blood. That weakens the body. Let him sleep. And give him good, easily digestible food. He needs to eat plenty so his body can make new blood cells.”
“Blood…cells?” Dennia seemed to be unfamiliar with the word. Atissa had never heard of it either.
Mark faced them, pausing again. Was he considering sharing some of his knowledge with them? Atissa found herself eagerly listening.
“Food is for the body what wood is for a fire,” he said. “Humans, animals - we need it to keep going, right?”
“Of course,” Dennia said, carefully.
“Our bodies burn food for fuel…to keep going”, Mark pointed back to the hut,” but it also breaks some of it apart and uses it to make things. Skin, bone, blood. Cells are tiny building blocks everything is built from. You cannot see them because they are so tiny.”
Atissa was fascinated, not daring to interrupt with a question. She glanced over to Dennia. Did the older woman feel the same way?
Iristos caught up to them. “I looked at the guy. He’s not that handsome. And he’s kind of short.”
Dennia and Atissa stared at him.
“What?” he asked. Their combined glare made him take half a step back.
“We should eat now,” Mark said, turning around and walking away. Ignoring Iristos, Dennia hurried to follow him.
Atissa hung back a bit, thinking about Mark’s explanation. It made sense. The sick were always urged to eat well to get better. Yet, it was hard to picture that blood was made up of building blocks.
A light breeze from the lake caressed her skin.
Danger?
Atissa’s head snapped up. She sensed something. It was weak but she trusted her instinct.
As she stood there between the houses of the small settlement, the picture of a deer nervously perking its head above the grass came to her mind. Only this time she was the deer.
A boy dashed past her.
Atissa had seen him when they had arrived. It was easy to tell that he and the boy guarding the stranger were brothers. Dennia was blessed that so many of her children survived.
“Mother, mother, there is another boat coming!” Shouting, the boy reached the main house and disappeared inside.
Atissa whirled around, searching the lake. There it was. A large boat. Two thwarts. It had just turned the corner and was gliding out onto the lake.
As Atissa observed another boat appeared. The vessels were coming from the same direction they had.
She strained her eyes. The boats were still a little too far away to make out the men inside but as far as she knew, only the Logger’s Home had boats of this size.
She started running.
A last glance over her shoulder told her that the boats were turning in their direction.
Mark and Iristos were already speeding toward her. The big man was holding onto the axe as if he might have to use it any moment.
“The boy says there is a boat?” Mark asked, urgency in his voice
“Two,” Atissa said. “And I am sure they are from the village.”
Iristos pushed past her, running down to the pier. Good, she thought. He will know the boats.
It was at that moment that the small hairs on her back started to prickle.
Danger!
“It is them,” she whispered almost to herself.
Mark looked at her, eyebrows raised.
“I sense the danger. It feels the same as when we found the troop heading for the village. Only stronger.” She paused, exploring what her Gift was telling her. “It is directed here. At us!”
Dennia emerged from the house, the boy close behind. “Who is it?” she asked straight away.
Before Atissa could answer, Iristos returned. “It’s the enemy!” he shouted. “It’s our boats from the village.”
Everybody turned to Mark.
He looked from one to the other. For the slightest moment, his posture showed a hint of reluctance. Then it was gone and his face hardened.
“Ahm, how many are there, Iristos?” Mark asked.
“Two.”
After waiting a moment, staring at Iristos, Mark raised an eyebrow. “Right. How many men?”
“Oh! Maybe ten in each,” Iristos said. “Could be more. Some people are smaller.”
“Right, right.,” Mark said, rubbing his chin. “Ok, we cannot fight that. Dennia, can you and your family get away from here?”
“We can hold them off with bows,” the boy said enthusiastically. “On the water, they’re easy targets!”
Mark looked at Atissa.
What does he want me to say, Atissa thought? Then she remembered the bow in her hand. Maybe he wanted to know if that was realistic? But Atissa wasn’t a warrior. What would her uncle do in this situation? Over the years, he had told her many stories from his mercenary days. Most more than once.
“We can’t hold them off,” she said, surprised by the confidence in her voice. “They will protect themselves with shields and try to get to the shore even quicker. Uncle Tatros says the best way to deal with bowmen is to get your shield up and rush them. They probably have their own bowmen, too.”
“But we could…,” the boy tried once more.
“Enough!” Dennia interrupted her son. “Go and warn the others. They’re to grab whatever food they can and run to the trail north. Hurry!”
Mark turned back to Iristos. “Can we get away with the boat?”
“Yes, if we leave right away. They don’t handle their boats very well. If we can reach the river, they won’t catch us.” Iristos spoke with grim confidence.
“He is right,” Dennia added. “My husband always says the river is tricky to maneuver. Especially if you don’t know it.”
“Ok, then let’s hurry!” Mark said, making the decision for all of them. “I’m sorry Dennia, but we have to make it to Riadnos.”
“Of course, master Mark. But please, take the stranger with you.” Dennia bowed deeper than before, catching Mark off guard.
“As a guest, in the absence of my husband, he is my responsibility,” she said resolutely. “But we can’t take him with us through the woods. Please, I beg you!”
This time Atissa could see the irritation and unwillingness clear as day. Mark fought with himself to accept the burden. Then he turned around and pointed at Iristos. “Please, go and get him. As strong as you are, you can easily carry him.”
Iristos beamed at the compliment. He handed the axe to Atissa and ran off.
Atissa froze. Memories flooded in at the feeling of the axe handle in her hands. Fear. The panic when she had first picked it up. Her hesitation looking down at the warrior struggling against Mark’s stranglehold. He was so huge in her memory. And angry.
“Thank you,” Dennia said, bowing once more. Atissa could see the sincerity in the proud woman. She was upholding her husband’s honor and protecting her guest.
Mark nodded. “Goodbye.”
They separated and hurried in opposite directions, Atissa following Mark down to the pier.
“Stop!”
Her shout brought him to a surprised halt.
Just as they were about to reach the house closest to the water, Atissa stepped in front of Mark and peered around the corner. The boats were still a little way out, but it wouldn’t be long before a strong bow could reach them.
Mark leaned forward to peer over her head.
“You don’t want them to see us before Iristos is here.” It wasn’t a question. He had only needed a heartbeat to understand. And he’s really tall, she thought.
The sound of heavy steps behind announced Iristos’ approach. The stranger lay over his shoulder like a log. He did not seem to feel the burden.
“What’re you doing?” he asked.
“Waiting for you,” Atissa said. “As soon as we run for the boat, they will react.”
“React how?” Iristos asked.
“I don’t know,” Atissa said. “Row faster. Shoot arrows maybe.”
Mark lifted his hand. “Atissa you will loosen the rope. I will climb into the boat first and Iristos will hand me the stranger. Understood?” They nodded. “Ok, Go!”
They made it all the way onto the pier before Atissa heard the shouts carrying over the water. She risked a quick glance.
There was movement on the boats. Then the rhythm with which the oars fell into the water quickened.
She reached the rope and started to untie the simple node. Next to her Mark clambered into the boat. As soon as he had found his footing, he turned around to receive the stranger’s slack body. The rope came loose and she and Iristos took their positions on the oars.
“I will push us off,” Iristos said “Wait for my signal!” His voice reflected the confidence in his skill.
Atissa focused. She knew she lacked experience but she didn’t want to be the reason they were caught by the Assanaten. Holding her oar above the water, she waited.
With strong strokes, Iristos brought them around until their boat pointed at the mouth of the river.
“Ok, and… pull! And, pull!” Iristos called out the tact and they quickly picked up speed.
“They saw us. One is turning,” Mark said. “Damn, what’re they doing?”
The curse almost made Atissa lose the rhythm. Iristos was much stronger than her and moved his oar with ease. If she slowed down only a little, the boat would move off course. She plunged the oar into the water and as she pulled, she risked a look. Her heart filled with dread.
Dennia’s two boys stood at the shore, losing arrows at the closest boat. They were good. And their target was big. The Assanaten were cramped together with no possibility to evade the arrows flying their way.
The warriors’ curses could be heard on the wind as one of the oarsmen was hit in the arm, causing the boat to move off course. One of the boys shouted with glee.
Then Atissa could see the figures in the boat moving. They will retaliate with their own bows now, she thought. Uncle Tatros had told her about the fearsome reputation of southern bowmen. You did good. Now run, please, run!
But the boys didn’t run. She could see the smiles on their faces. The enemy was still a good distance away from the shore and their success had made them blind to the danger they were in.
A figure rose at the bow of the lurching boat. Atissa recognized him. Or rather she recognized the elaborate tunic he was wearing.
Ignoring the two arrows passing by only an arm’s length away, the magi took a bottle from his belt and raised it to his lips.
Every hair on Atissa’s skin pricked up. Her instincts screamed. “Run! You must run!” It took her a couple of heartbeats to realize it was her who was screaming.
The magi finished filling his mouth and turned his attention to the shore. His other hand came up, making a gesture in front of his face.
A lance of fire shot out of his mouth, rushing the distance to the shore. The boys just stared wide-eyed. A heartbeat later, the flames swallowed their screams.
Atissa closed her eyes. She had sensed it. Felt the danger.
Don’t stop rowing. Focus on the rhythm.
Tears started to roll down her cheeks as she worked the oar.
Atissa
Atissa was as surprised as the people around her. As the man fell back onto his cot, Mark stood up and stepped back, out of the man’s reach. Was he shaken by the man’s surprising action? She couldn’t tell.
Mark was hard to understand. She believed she had seen some glimmers of genuine emotion through his polite demeanor at times. Though most of the time he just seemed to be irritated to some degree or another.
Atissa thought she knew why. If the gods let the magi look into the future, they were probably constantly waiting for everyone else to catch up. It must be quite boring.
“Is he asleep, again?” she asked.
Mark nodded without taking his eyes off the man. “It seems that way.” He absentmindedly rubbed the wrist the man had grabbed.
Atissa stepped a little closer. Something about the man had caught her attention, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
He seemed to have fallen back into a deep sleep. His peaceful face still showed a trace of the broad smile. Why was he so happy to see Mark? Did he recognize him from somewhere?
“Ah… do you think he is dangerous?” Iristos asked from the door.
Atissa looked back at him, then down at the man. And she suddenly realized something. “He is very good-looking.”
He was. Even though the discoloring of his skin made him look sickly, even corpse-like, there was no denying that he was beautiful. His face was perfectly even. His skin was unblemished by scars or traces of disease. He had a lean muscular frame, neither tall nor short.
“How do you mean?” Dennia asked, stepping next to her.
For some reason, Atissa felt her cheeks turn red. Looking up at Dennia, she pointed at the sleeping man. “Well, if you ignore the color I mean.”
Dennia cocked her head. Atissa shrank under the woman gaze.
“You are right,” Dennia said after looking down at the man for a moment. “If you look beyond his pale skin, he is the most handsome man I have ever seen. Perhaps somewhere between twenty-five and twenty-nine. How old are you now, Atissa?”
Atissa quickly looked away. “Fourteen. Fifteen next month,” she said quietly. She would be considered an adult then.
“We should let the man sleep,” Mark said, maybe sensing her unease. They followed him outside.
“Master, do you know what is wrong with him?” Dennia asked.
Mark didn’t answer right away.
Atissa observed him closely. Pausing to consider his answer was a habit of his.
“You are right”, he said finally, ”he looks like he’s lost a lot of blood. That weakens the body. Let him sleep. And give him good, easily digestible food. He needs to eat plenty so his body can make new blood cells.”
“Blood…cells?” Dennia seemed to be unfamiliar with the word. Atissa had never heard of it either.
Mark faced them, pausing again. Was he considering sharing some of his knowledge with them? Atissa found herself eagerly listening.
“Food is for the body what wood is for a fire,” he said. “Humans, animals - we need it to keep going, right?”
“Of course,” Dennia said, carefully.
“Our bodies burn food for fuel…to keep going”, Mark pointed back to the hut,” but it also breaks some of it apart and uses it to make things. Skin, bone, blood. Cells are tiny building blocks everything is built from. You cannot see them because they are so tiny.”
Atissa was fascinated, not daring to interrupt with a question. She glanced over to Dennia. Did the older woman feel the same way?
Iristos caught up to them. “I looked at the guy. He’s not that handsome. And he’s kind of short.”
Dennia and Atissa stared at him.
“What?” he asked. Their combined glare made him take half a step back.
“We should eat now,” Mark said, turning around and walking away. Ignoring Iristos, Dennia hurried to follow him.
Atissa hung back a bit, thinking about Mark’s explanation. It made sense. The sick were always urged to eat well to get better. Yet, it was hard to picture that blood was made up of building blocks.
A light breeze from the lake caressed her skin.
Danger?
Atissa’s head snapped up. She sensed something. It was weak but she trusted her instinct.
As she stood there between the houses of the small settlement, the picture of a deer nervously perking its head above the grass came to her mind. Only this time she was the deer.
A boy dashed past her.
Atissa had seen him when they had arrived. It was easy to tell that he and the boy guarding the stranger were brothers. Dennia was blessed that so many of her children survived.
“Mother, mother, there is another boat coming!” Shouting, the boy reached the main house and disappeared inside.
Atissa whirled around, searching the lake. There it was. A large boat. Two thwarts. It had just turned the corner and was gliding out onto the lake.
As Atissa observed another boat appeared. The vessels were coming from the same direction they had.
She strained her eyes. The boats were still a little too far away to make out the men inside but as far as she knew, only the Logger’s Home had boats of this size.
She started running.
A last glance over her shoulder told her that the boats were turning in their direction.
Mark and Iristos were already speeding toward her. The big man was holding onto the axe as if he might have to use it any moment.
“The boy says there is a boat?” Mark asked, urgency in his voice
“Two,” Atissa said. “And I am sure they are from the village.”
Iristos pushed past her, running down to the pier. Good, she thought. He will know the boats.
It was at that moment that the small hairs on her back started to prickle.
Danger!
“It is them,” she whispered almost to herself.
Mark looked at her, eyebrows raised.
“I sense the danger. It feels the same as when we found the troop heading for the village. Only stronger.” She paused, exploring what her Gift was telling her. “It is directed here. At us!”
Dennia emerged from the house, the boy close behind. “Who is it?” she asked straight away.
Before Atissa could answer, Iristos returned. “It’s the enemy!” he shouted. “It’s our boats from the village.”
Everybody turned to Mark.
He looked from one to the other. For the slightest moment, his posture showed a hint of reluctance. Then it was gone and his face hardened.
“Ahm, how many are there, Iristos?” Mark asked.
“Two.”
After waiting a moment, staring at Iristos, Mark raised an eyebrow. “Right. How many men?”
“Oh! Maybe ten in each,” Iristos said. “Could be more. Some people are smaller.”
“Right, right.,” Mark said, rubbing his chin. “Ok, we cannot fight that. Dennia, can you and your family get away from here?”
“We can hold them off with bows,” the boy said enthusiastically. “On the water, they’re easy targets!”
Mark looked at Atissa.
What does he want me to say, Atissa thought? Then she remembered the bow in her hand. Maybe he wanted to know if that was realistic? But Atissa wasn’t a warrior. What would her uncle do in this situation? Over the years, he had told her many stories from his mercenary days. Most more than once.
“We can’t hold them off,” she said, surprised by the confidence in her voice. “They will protect themselves with shields and try to get to the shore even quicker. Uncle Tatros says the best way to deal with bowmen is to get your shield up and rush them. They probably have their own bowmen, too.”
“But we could…,” the boy tried once more.
“Enough!” Dennia interrupted her son. “Go and warn the others. They’re to grab whatever food they can and run to the trail north. Hurry!”
Mark turned back to Iristos. “Can we get away with the boat?”
“Yes, if we leave right away. They don’t handle their boats very well. If we can reach the river, they won’t catch us.” Iristos spoke with grim confidence.
“He is right,” Dennia added. “My husband always says the river is tricky to maneuver. Especially if you don’t know it.”
“Ok, then let’s hurry!” Mark said, making the decision for all of them. “I’m sorry Dennia, but we have to make it to Riadnos.”
“Of course, master Mark. But please, take the stranger with you.” Dennia bowed deeper than before, catching Mark off guard.
“As a guest, in the absence of my husband, he is my responsibility,” she said resolutely. “But we can’t take him with us through the woods. Please, I beg you!”
This time Atissa could see the irritation and unwillingness clear as day. Mark fought with himself to accept the burden. Then he turned around and pointed at Iristos. “Please, go and get him. As strong as you are, you can easily carry him.”
Iristos beamed at the compliment. He handed the axe to Atissa and ran off.
Atissa froze. Memories flooded in at the feeling of the axe handle in her hands. Fear. The panic when she had first picked it up. Her hesitation looking down at the warrior struggling against Mark’s stranglehold. He was so huge in her memory. And angry.
“Thank you,” Dennia said, bowing once more. Atissa could see the sincerity in the proud woman. She was upholding her husband’s honor and protecting her guest.
Mark nodded. “Goodbye.”
They separated and hurried in opposite directions, Atissa following Mark down to the pier.
“Stop!”
Her shout brought him to a surprised halt.
Just as they were about to reach the house closest to the water, Atissa stepped in front of Mark and peered around the corner. The boats were still a little way out, but it wouldn’t be long before a strong bow could reach them.
Mark leaned forward to peer over her head.
“You don’t want them to see us before Iristos is here.” It wasn’t a question. He had only needed a heartbeat to understand. And he’s really tall, she thought.
The sound of heavy steps behind announced Iristos’ approach. The stranger lay over his shoulder like a log. He did not seem to feel the burden.
“What’re you doing?” he asked.
“Waiting for you,” Atissa said. “As soon as we run for the boat, they will react.”
“React how?” Iristos asked.
“I don’t know,” Atissa said. “Row faster. Shoot arrows maybe.”
Mark lifted his hand. “Atissa you will loosen the rope. I will climb into the boat first and Iristos will hand me the stranger. Understood?” They nodded. “Ok, Go!”
They made it all the way onto the pier before Atissa heard the shouts carrying over the water. She risked a quick glance.
There was movement on the boats. Then the rhythm with which the oars fell into the water quickened.
She reached the rope and started to untie the simple node. Next to her Mark clambered into the boat. As soon as he had found his footing, he turned around to receive the stranger’s slack body. The rope came loose and she and Iristos took their positions on the oars.
“I will push us off,” Iristos said “Wait for my signal!” His voice reflected the confidence in his skill.
Atissa focused. She knew she lacked experience but she didn’t want to be the reason they were caught by the Assanaten. Holding her oar above the water, she waited.
With strong strokes, Iristos brought them around until their boat pointed at the mouth of the river.
“Ok, and… pull! And, pull!” Iristos called out the tact and they quickly picked up speed.
“They saw us. One is turning,” Mark said. “Damn, what’re they doing?”
The curse almost made Atissa lose the rhythm. Iristos was much stronger than her and moved his oar with ease. If she slowed down only a little, the boat would move off course. She plunged the oar into the water and as she pulled, she risked a look. Her heart filled with dread.
Dennia’s two boys stood at the shore, losing arrows at the closest boat. They were good. And their target was big. The Assanaten were cramped together with no possibility to evade the arrows flying their way.
The warriors’ curses could be heard on the wind as one of the oarsmen was hit in the arm, causing the boat to move off course. One of the boys shouted with glee.
Then Atissa could see the figures in the boat moving. They will retaliate with their own bows now, she thought. Uncle Tatros had told her about the fearsome reputation of southern bowmen. You did good. Now run, please, run!
But the boys didn’t run. She could see the smiles on their faces. The enemy was still a good distance away from the shore and their success had made them blind to the danger they were in.
A figure rose at the bow of the lurching boat. Atissa recognized him. Or rather she recognized the elaborate tunic he was wearing.
Ignoring the two arrows passing by only an arm’s length away, the magi took a bottle from his belt and raised it to his lips.
Every hair on Atissa’s skin pricked up. Her instincts screamed. “Run! You must run!” It took her a couple of heartbeats to realize it was her who was screaming.
The magi finished filling his mouth and turned his attention to the shore. His other hand came up, making a gesture in front of his face.
A lance of fire shot out of his mouth, rushing the distance to the shore. The boys just stared wide-eyed. A heartbeat later, the flames swallowed their screams.
Atissa closed her eyes. She had sensed it. Felt the danger.
Don’t stop rowing. Focus on the rhythm.
Tears started to roll down her cheeks as she worked the oar.
