Chapter Seven

As the daughter of Arktos looked out over the vast plain of dancing yellowgrass—overgrown to the point of sprouting its white, fuzzy seeds, she may very much have hoped to see it set ablaze. The heat of the season left a crown of sweat around Sula’s forehead. No matter how often or vigorously she wiped the sweat away with the sleeve of her traveler’s cloak, its thick, woolen hood clung hard to her. Despite the shining sun and clear skies over head, she was left uncomfortably drenched.

To make matters worse, straddling the sides of a rough-riding mare, Sula’s thighs grew sore and chafed in just the nascence of her journey. Though only having travelled an hour or so, she was not yet used to riding and felt its ache deeply.

Kaleia walked beside her. Every now and again Sula would catch the bright day’s gleam in her aunt’s worried eyes as the kind woman peeked up to check on the girl. Sula had not said a word since the two had set out. Even before, when Kaleia was readying both her and the mare for the trip ahead, what words Sula managed were short and sparse. Yet this time, when Kaleia looked at her niece, what she saw was nothing like the cavernous, empty face the girl had held for so long. No, at some point a frustration had sunk the cub’s brow and annoyance nearly filled her eyes with tears.

Thinking it at least safer now to push Sula to speak, Kaleia asked as delicately as she could manage, “Little cub, is there a bur in your fleece?”

Sula affirmed her frustration with a nod but refused to say more. With a sigh Kaleia turned back to the road. In the distance she could just barely make out their destination, the outer walls of Argonia. This far away, they seemed to bend back and forth in the distortion of the swelling heat. Once or twice, they almost reached their breaking point, but before it was too late, they never failed to twist back the other way.

After a few more minutes of silence, the cub finally loosed her frustrations at her unprepared guide.

“Why is it,” Sula asked almost growling, “that I have to wear this heavy hood in this heat when you have already hacked my hair off? I’d have rather just had the stupid hood.”

As she finished, Sula managed to peel the cloak away from her sticky forehead. Her ruddy locks that had once been so long that she could wrap herself up in their wild, curly tangles, now fell flat and straight against the sides of her face and barely extended past her clenched jaw. Her bangs did not even reach her narrowed eyes.

“You don’t like it?” Kaleia asked. After giving the girl another look, Kaleia reached up to push some stray strands in order, but Sula swatted her away. Kaleia smiled approvingly. “I think it suits you well.”

Sula let out a short, terse huff, not feigning any sort of satisfaction or gratitude for the compliment.

“I’m sorry, cub. It is very important that you not be recognized on the road. Unfortunately, a cloak is not enough. If your hood were to blow off in the wind or some guard were to yank it from you, this haircut you so loathe will work wonders to keep your identity safe.”

Sula frowned and began to voice a counter argument but could not think of one. She instead admitted, “That makes sense, but I don’t like it.”

“Well, I think it looks good. I’ve always thought myself good with the shears.” The joke got a smile from Sula. “Now, if you are hot,” Kaleia continued, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you kept the hood down as we go, but as soon as we reach the gates or if another rider passes, you must put it back up.”

“Speaking of go, Aunt Kaleia,” Sula started. “Where is it we are going?”

The question had been eating at the young girl since they left her Uncle’s estate. Her wits had been so scattered from coming face to face with her Goddess’ monstrous form that her heart had not seemed to beat once in all the time between. Until now, she had felt like a wispy, feathery cloud, present, but merely fluttering on high from one place to the next without taking notice of the happenings below.

The cub could remember only one thing from the past few hours, and she had no idea why. She remembered that as she fought as hard as she could against Kaleia placing her on the mare and strapping her into the saddle, her eldest cousin, Tarvos, stormed from the house to the stable carrying two of his brothers, one was slung on his back, arms wrapped around his throat, and his youngest was hanging from his arm and biting at his elbow.

“I can’t believe you are leaving me here with these monsters,” Tarvos protested, trying to shake his youngest brother free. “I had plans today. Important plans.”

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“All plans seem so important at your age, don’t they, Sweetie?” Kaleia mocked her son. “One month ago you were a boy, but now that you’ve done your rites, you are just so busy with plans. Important ones at that, huh? What became of these important plans yesterday when I caught you dozing off in the sweetbean fields?”

“That’s not it. I just don’t get why you have to take care of that brat anyway,” Tarvos spat, nodding his head toward Sula, who seemed to be anywhere but there in that moment.

Without warning his brothers fell with two little thumps and scampered away, perhaps knowing all too well what the storm clouds gathering in their mother’s lightning eyes portended. In a flash Kaleia drew her hand and smacked it against the crown of her son’s head. It did not sting enough to hurt the boy anywhere except his pride.

“Boy!” Kaleia thundered. “You are the eldest. The household is your responsibility when your father and I are away. Where have I gone wrong with you, Tarvonikles? You have watched this girl grow before your eyes for half of your life. Do you not remember when she was just a small thing and so smitten with you? She said she wanted to be your bride. And when your father laughed and explained it was impossible, she said she hoped to find a husband as great as you are?

“Sula is family, Tarv. Without family we have nothing. I pray to the Goddess you understand that one day.” Then, with just the mention of the Goddess, Sula’s thoughts drifted. She was far away again, back in the chambers of that monstrosity, staring it down in disbelief. It could not have been the Water Goddess. The kind and playful Water Goddess who protects the citizens of Argonia.

Everything after Kaleia’s scolding became a blur until she later returned to her senses and found herself atop the lean mare, wrapped in the thick traveler’s cloak, and missing most of her hair. But now, with her wits about her again, she hoped to catch up on what she could not remember.

“Where are we going?” Kaleia whispered aloud more to herself than the girl. “I am not quite sure, myself. It was your uncle who came up with the plan and as much as I love him, he has never been one to give the full picture, just hint at the idea. Explaining the details was always your father’s job. What I do know is that I am to take you to a safe town on the Southernmost border. There, a man named Phrouros will be waiting for us. Philos and your father both trust him with more than their lives, their family’s lives. That in and of itself should be enough to reassure you, little cub.”

At Kaleia’s mention of the town, Sula recalled what brief directions her uncle had offered after her fathered had gone. “There is a sleepy town in those parts called Koilaska. It lays beyond even Argus’ ever-vigilant eyes. You can live in peace there. Settle down in safety. Become a good wife and raise many beautiful cubs. Wouldn’t you like that, Sula?”

She had nodded, though she would have nodded at anything he offered. Her mind had been focused elsewhere in that moment, lingering on her father’s wellbeing and the terrifying face of the monster.

Finally, drawing up her nerve to speak, Sula had asked, “Uncle, can I go with you? My papa needs help. He needs my help, I know he does—and, and, and—who knows what will happen without me.”

Her uncle had drawn a heavy breath and slumped back in his chair. He had shaken his head. “No, cub, it is impossible. Leave things to me and I will do what I can.”

Sula had flown into a frenzy. Desperate tears had flooded around her as she had thrashed about, turning over chairs and begging until her voice grew raw that she be able to see her father again.

“Please,” she had pleaded. “Please, uncle. They will kill him! I know they will. I remember when Makhe, the boy I used to play with in the Iluodes river, cursed the Goddess just one time and they took him from his parents and burned their family’s fields. If not for Papa, they would have starved to death that winter.”

The cub had fallen to her knees and clawed at the floor, her howls turning to croaks. Kaleia had fallen beside her and hugged her close. The aunt had known, of course, that Sula was right. Arktos faced death for what he had done. Kaleia had ran her hands through Sula’s hair, stroking her head which calmed her to a great extent. Philos had offered the poor cub no such sympathy. He had risen to his feet and left for the capital without another word. As he had gone he had stroked his beard to hide his dour frown. Sula had remained obstinate. Only when Philos had gone and Kaleia had sheared her hair, wrapped her in a cloak, and saddled her to the horse had she realized it was useless and resigned herself to her fate.

Shaking herself free of her mind, Sula wished she had not remembered that particular scene. A crimson flush shot across her cheeks. Yet her embarrassment was short lived as the thought of her father and his fate churned up an empty dread inside her that sank her stomach and hollowed out her heart. Sula tried desperately to change the subject. Her hands began to shake and eyes began to twitch before settling in the distance.

Kaleia cleared her throat, trying her hardest not to again lose Sula to the endless panic of her thoughts. “Don’t you want to know what kind of person Phrouros is? After all, you will be spending a lot of time with him.”

Sula managed a nod and when Kaleia pretended not to see, she muttered out a “Y-yeah.”

“Well, that’s the problem,” Kaleia laughed and a confused Sula turned to her. “Made you look… Really though, I don’t know much except from your uncle’s stories. From what I gather, he is strong and dependable. I heard he once unrooted a pera-tree with only his hands.”

Sula considered this for a moment and decided that she liked the idea of staying with someone so strong. Perhaps he could help her grow strong too. In the midst of her daydreams of incredible feats such as diverting rivers and leaping to mountaintops in a single bound, she remembered another question she had. “Wait! If you have never been to where we are going, how are we supposed to get there?”

“Please,” Kaleia smiled. “Your uncle isn’t that unreliable. It is an easy trip as long as we can keep to the road. He told me as much. It is only a few days ride on the southern road. Once we are free of Argonia’s outer walls, I will climb on sweet Aute’s back with you and we will be there in no time at all.”