"I have a name, young Matthew," the chief priestess said, tired of fielding questions directed to "priestess." Matt looked at her, finding it finally odd that he had never learned his benefactor's name. "You may call me Mana, for I have forsaken my family name, as all of Hecate's priestesses do."
"Priestess Mana," Matt began, making sure not to disrespect the woman sitting across from him. Beyond it being common courtesy, Hecate's priestesses could sometimes do more than just oversee divinations. He'd heard a story of a man being turned into a frog after drunkenly hitting on one of them. Matt shivered, but continued. "Why is it that you forsake your last name?"
Mana smiled, looking out the window of the wooden box they rode in. A cool breeze wafted in, tickling Matt's hair. "Hecate demands true faith. We are her chosen, and we act as she wills it."
"What if you don't want to?" the words spilled out of his mouth before he could consciously determine that saying them was a bad idea. Fortunately, the priestess' only response was a slow shake of her head.
"That has never happened, young Matthew. Our goddess is a benevolent one, and her every action is for our sake. We would never betray her," she replied, implying that the priestesses of Hecate had a way of keeping in contact with their patron deity. As far as Matt knew, everyone was only supposed to have a single vision – a single shared moment – with their patron. Was it a part of the divination skillset?
He elected not to ask, reveling in the quiet rumble of the carriage on the dirt road. The air was finally clean, so far removed from a population center. It had never smelled so good. And, even better, since it was autumn, the carriage wouldn't get overly hot and sweaty. That was a godsend if there ever was one, so long as they arrived in Highhaven before winter set in. Mana promised that they would get there in a month, well before the first snow, but the worry remained at the back of his mind.
"Do you always travel without guards?" Matt asked. The chief priestess was an important person in Mayfeld; it made little sense for her to travel without armed escort.
"Of course. Who would dare attack one of the gods' cho-"
Her words were interrupted by a scream of terror, and then a wet gurgle. A few arrows thudded into the side of the carriage, none of them flying through the open window. Mana's calm countenance quickly shifted to one of anger like Matt had never seen before. The god-like woman had disappeared. In her place sat a demon.
She kicked open the door, arcane light exploding from her fingertips. It reduced one of the ten bandits Matt could see into ashes. Mana didn't seem any worse for it, if not for a single bead of sweat resting on her forehead. More light shot from her hands, the blue streaming out at a spear-wielding man. He too, despite all the armor he wore, disappeared into nothingness.
Mana did it thrice more, but the blue aura surrounding her hands was growing sickly. She was sweating profusely, as if she had ran for an hour straight. Matt could see her sway back and forth, before crumpling onto the floor of the carriage. The bandits, terrified until now, approached warily.
Matt peered out at them, gulping as he took in the sight of five men armored in chainmail and equipped with an assortment of swords and spears advance towards him. He didn't have a single weapon on him, but he saw where he could get some. Opening the opposite door, finding it to thankfully reveal no further enemies, Matt scrambled around the carriage, avoiding the men's gazes until it was too late.
"Hey!" Matt yelled at the top of his lungs, waving his newly-acquired spear in the air. Looted from one of their friend's corpses, the sight would anger them. True to the plan, the intimidating men turned around, choosing to eliminate Matt first. He wasn't quite sure what he could do, but if he could keep them distracted long enough, Mana might be able to muster more strength. If he did nothing, they were dead anyway. The thought gave him courage as he placed himself in the stance he'd seen employed by Mayfeld's city guards.
Having never wielded a weapon before, it felt wholly unnatural, but the stance was firm. He could turn tail and run, but one of the men had a bow strapped to his back, the only one with a ranged weapon left after Mana's attack. Fortunately, he seemed to have forgotten about it, choosing instead to twirl a pair of knives menacingly.
"This ain't a place fer a boy," the man in the lead said, his gravelly voice sending shivers down Matt's spine. "Drop th' spear, and we might let ya live," he gave his ultimatum, one that Matt had no intention of accepting.
"I'm not a boy, not anymore. I'm a man, and a chosen of the gods," Matt infused his voice with as much of his will as he could muster, hoping to intimidate them. It failed, judging by their laughter.
"Sure, kid. And I found Aphrodite in m'bed last night." Matt brandished his spear, lashing out as if to keep a pack of wolves at bay. It was laughable, really. Only their leader approached within his weapon's ranged, and he did so without a care in the world. His sword was at his side. Matt didn't warrant any worry.
"Come on, Iapetus," Matt said to himself, steeling his resolve. He'd take advantage of the man's cockiness. "Let me… PIERCE!"
Thrusting his spear forward in a wild motion, the tip of the weapon struck the chainmail armor of the bandit leader before the man had a moment to react. Then, to both his and Matt's surprise, the cheap spear separated the links, pushing through the big man's gut.
His enemy dropped to the ground in front of him, a look of absolute horror now etched permanently onto his face. Matt looked at his hands in disbelief, hands now stained crimson. The other bandits, furious, charged him all at once. He raised his spear once more, knowing his death to be imminent. There wouldn't be a second miracle.