“Would you mind if we walked?” David asked, hoping the act of healing a living being had softened Dragos’s generally brusque disposition.
He snorted in contempt, swiftly dismissing Davis’s speculation. “I suppose.”
They walked for a while before the forest began to brighten, cracks appearing in its ceiling of needled branches and pine cones, offering the ground its sparse light. “It is daylight, but we are protected in here,” Dragos told him. “Our arrival should time perfectly with nightfall, for we still have far to travel.”
David nodded, not bothering to ask if they could use the time to rest. “I never knew centaurs inhabited the Carpathian Mountains.”
“They place autonomy and privacy above all else. The Greek centaur myths that have been passed down among generations are based on Chiron, the great intellect who fled his herd in defiance and found his way down to the Mediterranean centuries ago.”
“They are immortal?”
“Of course, they are,” Dragos scoffed. “You really don't know much of anything, do you?”
David swallowed a flare of anger. “I ask questions so that I do know. Ignorant is the man that thinks he knows all.”
Dragos laughed. “Now you sound like my father.”
David was surprised. “I thought you never met Lucius. Hekate said you have spent your lives hiding from him.”
“Stories have been passed down to us by those who remembered him,” he explained. “I am the first son to ever be born of the Pădurii, so of course it revived all talk of our patriarch.”
“He was once a decent man,” David admitted. “Though very vain and slightly mad.”
Dragos paused his trot. “You know, you do not have to kill him.”
“Is that not the entire point of the Insurgence?” David sputtered, thoroughly bemused.
Dragos merely shrugged. “It is our fight, not yours. It was Hekate’s idea to recruit you. Danulf and I were steadfast against it until she convinced us that you were the key.”
David was silent as they continued their stride forward. Soon, the conifers began to give way, signaling the end of the southern forest and the place where the Ottomans had made their camp. Dragos was correct in his prediction, the sun had set, its intense rays settled below the mountain tops, the only hint of its departure a lingering red haze, blurred by perpetual fog.
The camp was much larger than David had expected, positioned near a small stream which had yet to freeze over. Fires were already lit in preparation of evening chill, the entire army covered in cloaks and hats of varied animal furs, save for the man that approached them.
Danulf’s scowl appeared more fierce than usual, his beard and matted hair dusted with frost. His hoodless cloak looked flimsy compared to the humans around him, the acres of tattoos scrawled down his arms exposed. “How did it go?” he asked bluntly.
“I was able to mend the fallen centaur,” Dragos replied. “They will not attack again, provided the Ottomans stay out of their territory.”
Danulf sighed. “That is going to be hard to do. Four men lie wounded from their arrows, and eventually someone will decide to avenge the act. This war needs to happen before tensions reach their peak.” He looked at David. “You look like death.”
Dragos cut in before he could respond. “I am taking him back to our apothecary.”
“Are you certain he is well enough to travel there?” Danulf asked, continuing to study him. His scrutinous gaze made it harder for David to convince himself that he wasn’t near collapse.
“Shall we take horses then?” Dragos asked.
“Nah, you and I will fly with him,” Danulf decided. “I need to return to the stronghold as well. The two of us together can manage him.”
David began to protest, but each of them grabbed an arm. In moments, they were at the village gates, the impact of their landing sending a nearby snowdrift into collapse. David stabilized himself as Danulf ducked into the tavern, leaving Dragos and him alone once more. They headed towards the apothecary, the ground beneath them crunching with their footsteps.
“So, I assume my sister informed you of your entire history?” Dragos cut through the quiet, his voice thin.
“Yes,” David replied, as the house came into view. Its windows lacked the glow of lamplight, apparent that Hekate had finally allowed herself the sleep that she desperately needed.
“You are taking it remarkably well,” Dragos commented. “I cannot imagine that I would be so calm knowing that my two lovers were sisters, one who tricked you into believing she was an innocent mortal.”
“What do you mean?” David asked, confused.
Dragos raised an eyebrow, widening the almond shape of his eye. “That Gaia was actually Isis reincarnated, but stripped of her magic.”
David almost faltered, but maintained a calm facade as his heart hammered against his chest. He hoped Dragos’s supernatural senses wouldn’t catch its climb. “I believe she did what she thought was best,” he said lightly, as if he already knew what Dragos unintentionally revealed.
Dragos snorted in response. “Isis would never admit her love for Lucius, but they once became very close. After the death of the Ancient Ones, Isis visited him in the Underworld, avoiding Anubis’s watchful eye by pretending to be Persephone, the Greek god Hades’s queen, living with him during the winter months and returning to her mother each spring. When in reality, she was an Egyptian goddess trapped in her tree, visiting him when she knew the seasons changed. An incredible ruse, if you ask me. Don't you think it strange that the same dark god who supposedly took her unwillingly was the same god she visited so often?”
David was speechless.
“Well, you might miss your old friend Lucius,” Dragos said as they reached the apothecary and he pulled open the door. “But tricking you into falling in love with Isis in human form, so he could be with Morrigan, was despicable, on both their parts.”
David walked through the opened door, prepared to demand answers from Hekate, when he realized the room was in shambles. Lucius’s promise to him at the Death Wall suddenly returned—he was planning to force Hekate to bring back the Morrigan. And I will let him, came a brief, selfish whisper.
“She was taken.” Dragos cursed, grabbing David’s arm and heading out the door. “Now it’s only a matter of time before he discovers that you are alive and strikes.”
Dragos evoked once more their unnatural speed, carrying the still weak David so they would reach the tavern in seconds. He threw open the door to see the men were already gathered in visible agitation.
“Dragos,” Danulf appeared from behind the swell of bodies. “There is a traitor among us. Lucius knows we have David and he plans to attack us to retrieve him within the hour.”
David felt his world spin.
Danulf noticed, grabbing his arm. “You need blood.”
