In the Hands of Gods

Part 1: Blood and Fire

With every heavy footfall, I thought of all that had transpired in this single day.

Battle had been raging before our eyes. Was it just hours ago now that we had stood on the outskirts of Lethos, our once-peaceful town, in the open field between the forests, watching angry men pushing their way into oblivion? The Eastern and Western Woods flanked the field in perfect stillness, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. Urgent whisperings of women on the sidelines were giving strength to the fight. As I watched man after man cut down, I wondered how we came to this? Nothing is worth this.

I didn’t think I could feel any worse than I did then. I hate being so scorching wrong.

The two rival families of our town had come to an accord, and this morning’s battle was the result: a display of strength at the highest cost. All of it enacted for me.

The thought had turned my stomach, panic rising inside me at the thought I might be sick.

Hold it together, Trinia!

I couldn’t possibly show such weakness to these dying men. Half of them fought for me - to give me my “rightful” place as their leader. I’d been reared for such a thing, after all and with my father’s death, it should be me in his stead. All but for his brother. My uncle had produced a son and believed vehemently that only a male should rule. Honestly, I would have gladly given him the honor, leadership is nothing I crave. But, much like the assault of the blades in battle, such things are thrust upon you.

The town was divided, and though the women tried to reconcile the way to peace, tempers are louder than words, and the men agreed to settle the matter with steel.

The sun was high before the blades were finally sheathed. I searched the crowd of survivors in the open field for the one man I could not bare to lose. Where are you, Fin?! But I daren’t say it aloud. Fighting the mounting despair, I looked to the faces of the fallen, nearby bodies of neighbors, friends. From where I stood on the sidelines I could not possibly see them all, but I was relieved that I did not find him among them.

My lieutenant was approaching. The soothsayer in our town and my chief advisor. His midnight skin and armor were splashed with blood but he looked unharmed.

“Lady Trinia, the day is yours.” he announced as he bowed low before me. His cape was further muddied by the gesture, the pine green color of my crest crusted with brown and red. My cloak, by comparison felt brazenly clean.

He cast his dark eyes up to mine, scanning my face for approval. I hated condoning this waste, but I couldn’t very well undermine it either.

“You honor me with your bravery, Shamean.” I told him and motioned for him to rise. I looked out to the survivors and said, “As do you all.”

He stood next to me and surveyed the scene as he spoke, his baritone voice direct and commanding.

“They will follow you now. The men of your father and your uncle alike.”

Men were already dragging bodies, clearing the field. Healers were rushing to the wounded to salvage who they could.

Low, so only I could hear, Shamean asked, “Is it worth it?”

As I inhaled, ready to find the right words, I saw him. Finius was walking out of the remnants of the fray. I was barely aware of Shamean leaving my side.

He had lived. He was well. I detected no limp or sign of pain.

He wasn’t looking at me. His Eleanor was racing to his arms, and he embraced her heartily.

I wanted to watch him, take him in completely until he realized I was spying on this intimate moment and he’d look up at me at last. I’m proud to say, however that I did not disrespect his wife so. I allowed a moment of gratitude for his life and turned away to address the matters of leadership.

The field was cleared, the bodies prepared for the ceremonial burning which would take place at the Temple in the heart of town once darkness fell. We returned to our homes, closing the gates on the violent morning.

Then she arrived. Diana, our Goddess and guardian. She of the original battlers came to us under the afternoon sun.

She looked resplendent in Passion’s colors, I’ll give her that. The shades of her robes danced around her like fire as she led her giant steed up to our gates. Her black hair fell in a mixture of waves and braids, her green eyes glistened like grass in the morning sunlight. I had no idea why she was here.

From atop our wall, I watched as she opened the gates of the village. Our steady, wooden gates which call for many men to muster: she opened them as if they were cobwebs to be brushed aside.

Her massive, mahogany-brown horse grunted in dismay; clearly tired from the journey, poor thing. But she? She looked at ease, as if she’d been resting in the arms of a lover and not traveling between here and oblivion. I wondered how far that horse had bore her. Who could tell? Perhaps the Lady Bethany could guess it. Eldest among us, it was said she had been taken to the realm of the gods once, to marry one of the lesser deities. A betrothal made to mock her, it was rumored. The gods were petty like that. But she was calm of heart, if not a little cunning for her lessons. Yet that is her story, not mine.

Everyone from the village came out for the second time that day, onto the open field where the morning's battle had taken place between the two forests, still not daring to breathe. The earth was covered in patches of red and a metallic brume stifled the air.

Diana tore a branch the width of a horse’s leg from a spruce as easy as picking a daisy. She struck a fire on the ground and held the burning branch for all to see. Even without the fire flickering menacingly, she was an intimidating figure, standing two heads taller than the largest of us. She looked at us venomously, then strode into the woods, holding the burning branch above her head.

The light could be seen deep in the forest, even when we lost sight of her. It’s odd now, but I had no idea of what she was doing, - not until the light grew brighter and a flock of birds soared above the canopy, crying insults to the air.

One man made to run into the glowing forest, but his wife held his arm. I found myself feeling grateful for her - an odd sensation followed quickly by queasiness. Gratitude was never anything I’d felt toward Eleanor.

Fin didn’t look at her, but cast his eyes directly on me, confused and angry. Stealing the moment for my own, I watched him: his brown beard painted on his handsome face, perfectly framing his lips. His wide eyes the color of summer aspen, of overgrown grass, of longing. I knew he would have run into the wood, brave fool that he is had not his Eleanor held him. Who but he would pit himself against a god? As his gaze held me, for a moment I wished it was my arm on his, but what was cannot repeat itself.

I looked again to the brightening trees; a grey cloud was rising from the canopy.

We all watched Diana striding from the forest, fire blazing around her. As she stood before us, the crackling wood and cloud of smoke filled my ears and eyes and the tower of flames broke my heart.

“Your Eastern Wood I have not yet touched.” Diana told us. “That decision is yours. Your bloody battles have cost you the Western Wood thus far, and I will return if I must.”

Her voice was deep, like the gong of a large bell. The sound of it was both soothing and terrifying.

She approached her horse and stroked its side before mounting. Then someone spoke.

“Lady Diana, are you not Goddess of the Battle? Do you not take pride in our fight in your name?” Fin had overstepped his bounds, the fool.

Eleanor looked mortified.

Diana gazed at him for what felt like years.

“How dare you fight a battle of greed in my name.” Diana said. “How dare you mock me with your petty disputes!”

She sat atop her monstrous steed and led the great beast up to him.

“It seems my lesson has not taught you anything...Finius.” she said, plucking his name from the air.

The familiarity startled me. He was in danger now. He must be clever. I willed him to make up for his wrong.

“I beg forgiveness, my Goddess. I meant only to pay you your due as the guiding light of our strength and teacher of Virtue. It is as you say, Lady: our fights have been too petty for your grace, and we shall obey you always,” he said.

If only he’d stopped there, but he just had to add, “in everything.”

A smile touched Diana’s lips and she said, “Well spoke mortal. I give you credit for your ability to calm the storm, and your eloquence is most touching.”

She reached down and grazed his arm, and as if he were light as goose feathers, she lifted him onto the horse in front of her. She held him firmly, her lips close to his ear.

“You say ‘in everything’ and I find I shall hold you to that.”

He stayed calm, mounted on her steed as he was, that is to his credit. My heart was pounding.

“You show yourself to be astute, so now I think I have lessons more for you in my kingdom. You shall come with me Finius, for your bravery of tongue and quickness of flattery.”

Eleanor let out a gasp and Diana’s eyes flashed at her.

“Learn your lesson well my people.” Diana said, and spurred her steed on.

In that panicked moment of helplessness, Eleanor did not conceal her tears, but Fin did not call out her name nor hold her gaze. He met her eyes briefly but, in his last moments here he shot his eyes to mine, recklessly telling Eleanor everything. Then he was gone.