“Damn it,” Euryale said, flattening herself against the wall once more. “He saw me.”
Stheno crouched, spear ready, looking like she was torn between running and fighting. “Are you sure?”
“He looked right at me.”
“But are you sure he saw you?”
Euryale tensed, shut her eyes momentarily, and made one last glance. To her utter shock, Apollo had turned back around and was still talking with the one-eyed giant. “No, thank the Fates, he’s—”
Euryale stopped midsentence. Apollo stretched and scratched the back of his head, only—
“What?” Stheno asked.
“He’s scratching his head, but not.”
“What do you mean ‘but not’?”
“I mean, he’s scratching the air behind his head,” she said, watching, perplexed. “It’s like he’s…” Euryale tilted her head for a half second before jerking back. “He’s calling us down.”
“Why?”
“Like I have any idea,” Euryale said, shaking her head. “But that’s what he’s doing, and he doesn’t want the cyclops to see.”
“Could be a trap.”
“It’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“I know,” Euryale said, heading for the door and bidding her sister to follow with a wave of her hand. “Come on.”
Stheno started for the exit, but her steps were cautious. “How do you know?”
“He’s always helped us,” Euryale replied. “Besides, why make an elaborate trap when he could sound the alarm instead?”
Her sister exhaled sharply and rubbed her hands together. “Gods, I hope you’re right.”
With that, the two left the room, and with all the haste they could muster without sounding like a stampede of rabid bulls, they raced through the halls, down a flight of stairs, and reached the door leading to the inner courtyard in less than a half minute.
Euryale cracked the door open, but when she saw nothing, her brow dropped. “He’s gone?”
“Gone? Let me see.”
Euryale moved so her sister could take a look. Once she did, Stheno huffed and opened the door further. A split second later, she grabbed Euryale by the wrist and yanked her through. “Fates love us,” she said, laughing. “We’re free. Look!”
The gorgon directed her eyes at where Stheno had her finger pointed. A dozen yards away, a little to the side, stood Apollo’s chariot. With speed to rival Hermes, the sisters leaped on the carriage with Euryale taking the reins.
A single snap of leather sent them rocketing into the sky and headed for Achlys’s domain.
* * *
Apollo’s chariot turned out to be much, much faster than the one Euryale and Alex had. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that his was pulled by four equines with enough combined muscle to make Ares jealous, whereas theirs only had a couple of adorable ponies. Or maybe it was the fact that the carriage itself exuded power unlike any Euryale had ever felt before. Simply touching its rails sent a warm, vibrating sensation up her arm that was equal parts ecstasy and terror, and it made the gorgon wonder what Apollo was capable of. Perhaps there was much, much more to the God of the Sun and Giver of Prophecy than he was letting on—that anyone, the other Olympians included, even knew.
As they neared their destination, a bog near the eastern border of the Czech Republic, Euryale felt the need to gloat. “I told you they weren’t all bad.”
Stheno, who’d been lost in thought for the past half hour, dropped her brow. “Who?”
“The Olympians,” she answered.
“Says you.”
“Says we have a chariot.”
Stheno went to object, but whatever words she had in mind never popped out of her open mouth. Instead, the gorgon huffed at it all. “Fine,” she said. “We’ll keep him as a pet.”
“A pet?”
“Mm-hm. He’s cute enough to be one, too. And it might come in handy to have a dog who can see the future.”
With a terrible cry, the horses pulling the chariot banked sharply and reared, nearly toppling the carriage and throwing the two out. Euryale struggled with the reigns to keep the animals from tearing off to Fates knew where, but even with putting every ounce of strength she had into it, the best she could do was keep them moving in a tight circle.
“You were saying about a chariot?” Stheno asked once things returned to a more normal state.
Euryale tugged on the leather one last time, finally managing to put a halt to their travel. Though they were now stopped, Euryale didn’t answer. Instead, she scoured everything around them. To their backs, Lysá hora reached into the sky, its powdered slopes providing plenty of fun and adventure to hikers and skiers alike. Ahead of them, however, nestled in the valley of the mountainous terrain, was a small bog, shrouded in fog and shadow. Though the gorgon could see nothing, it only took a moment to realize what had spooked the horses. The sickly sweet scent of decay was so strong, she nearly retched.
“I think we’re walking,” Euryale said with reluctance.
“One of us is, at least,” Stheno replied as she hopped off the chariot.
No further comments were made, and the gorgons entered the bog, side by side. With every step made, every yard slithered, the muck grew worse, and the air continually thickened. They’d traveled not even a quarter mile before the fog cut visibility in half, and it wasn’t much farther when they couldn’t even see beyond a dozen feet.
Miles came and went, and the two had nothing to show for it other than aching muscles and grime-covered skin and scale. Stheno’s steps looked heavy and awkward in the muck as if she wore shoes made of lead. Though Euryale fared a little better thanks to her giant tail, she, too, felt her body’s strength being taxed to its limits as the bog seemed to be trying to do everything it could to stop them.
“It feels like a hydra is sitting on my chest,” Stheno wheezed, stopping a moment to find her breath.
“Or two,” Euryale replied. “I wish I knew how much farther we had to go.”
“As do I. What’s the map say?”
Euryale sighed, letting her frustration loose in the process. “Nothing of use.”
“Then what? We wander around here blind, hoping to stumble on a goddess who doesn’t want to be found?”
“I’m up for suggestions,” she replied.
“What we need is—that,” Stheno said, pointed off to the side.
Euryale twisted and saw almost completely shrouded in gloom a gnarled tree with bare limbs and bark like soot. The two struggled to reach it; once there, the gorgon hoped this might mark a turn in their fortunes.
“I can’t see the top,” she said, craning her head. “Can you?”
Stheno shook her head. “Not at all. With luck, it’ll reach above this fog, and we can see where we’re going.”
“You want to climb it, or should I?”
“I’ll go,” her sister replied as she drove her spear into the muck and hoisted herself up the first limb. “I’m lighter than you.”
“Let me know when you find something.”
Euryale watched her sister climb. She did so with speed and grace, not faltering in the slightest, even when she had to jump from one branch to catch another. It didn’t take long for her to disappear above, swallowed by the thick fog that continued to choke the air from her lungs.
A massive yawn escaped the gorgon at that thought. She stretched and yawned again, not realizing how tired she’d become until that very moment when she had nothing to do but stand and wait.
Euryale lightly slapped her cheeks a few times to try and perk up, but it didn’t help much, if at all. Her eyelids drooped over and over as she fought to keep them up. Her head nodded in the process, and all she wanted to do was catch a nap for a quarter century or two.
“Can you see the top yet?” she called out.
The reply felt as if it took eons to come, and when it did, it sounded distant and weak. “No. Not yet.”
Euryale groaned and
tried moving around to keep herself awake. Mentally, it helped, but her body protested every movement with achy pains. A few minutes later, the gorgon propped herself against the tree for a touch of respite.
The bark, hard and rough, crunched under her weight and felt surprisingly good. Euryale shifted back and forth, letting the tree scratch her back directly between her shoulder blades.
“Oh, I need you at home,” Euryale said, sinking into a state of relaxation.
She wiggled a little more, her mind relishing the bit of self-pampering, and she closed her eyes. Consciousness slipped away in seconds.
Chapter Athena and Artemis
Aison lagged.
The little gorgon’s mood had been subdued at best since Artemis had taken him into her care. Though she’d only been around the child for scant bits at a time prior to that, every memory she had of him was one filled with bright smiles and plenty of laughter—a dash or two of frustrated parent, too. He hadn’t said much of anything in the last half hour, and so, as they walked through Athena’s abode, the Goddess of the Hunt took it upon herself to speak to the young boy to see what was on his mind.
“I’ll give you an obol if you share your thoughts,” she said, stopping halfway in a hall filled with busts and armor.
Aison came to a halt as well, but his eyes kept their focus on the floor. “Nothing.”
Artemis knelt beside him. “That doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“I don’t care what it sounds like. It’s nothing.”
There was an unexpected fire in his voice, an anger that longed to get out. “Are you mad at someone?”
Aison didn’t answer.
“Are you worried about Cassandra?” she asked, hoping the obvious answer would be enough to get him to speak. She hated seeing him struggle alone with such torment, but she could do nothing if he didn’t open up. Not that there seemed much chance of that. He had no reason to trust her as they were mostly strangers. But sometimes, confiding in a stranger was exactly what someone needed.
“A little,” he finally said. “Dad says she’s going to be okay, but…”
Artemis waited a few seconds, hoping he’d finish the sentence on his own, but he never did, so she prompted him further. “But what?”
“But he’s lying. I know he is. I heard them talking. They don’t know what to do.”
“Things change,” she said, gently holding his shoulders and turning him to face her. “I promise. I can’t count all the times I’ve been faced with a problem I didn’t know the answer to. But that’s why it’s important to never give up, to search and struggle, because we’re always much, much more capable of things than we think we are.”
Aison recoiled, slipping from her grasp. “No, we’re not.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because—” The rest of his sentence choked in his throat, and he tried to run.
He was quick, even for a boy twice his age, but Artemis was quicker. One didn’t rule as Goddess of the Hunt without the sharpest of reflexes. She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him close. He fought, trying to pry open her fingers, all the while keeping his face turned away.
“Aison,” she whispered. “Aison, it’s okay to be scared.”
“I’m not scared!”
“Okay,” she said, playing along. “You’re not scared. Tell me what you wanted to say.”
Aison tugged a couple more times, each one weaker than the previous, but never succeeded in slipping out of her grip. Once he stopped, his shoulders fell, and the words he spoke were barely a murmur. “We can’t do anything, thanks to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I should’ve stopped him from hurting Cassandra!” he yelled, eyes fierce and tiny claws growing from his fingers. “I should’ve, but I didn’t! I couldn’t!”
“No, Aison. No. None of this is your fault.”
“It is! And when she’s gone, everyone’s going to hate me!”
“I will never hate you,” she said. “And your parents will never hate you even more. I promise.”
Creases formed across his brow, and he shook his head. “Yes, they will. They don’t want someone like me, someone broken.”
“Broken?” Artemis echoed, not expecting the response at all. How could he think he was broken? That thought only stayed with her a moment. It didn’t matter how. The goddess lifted his chin so she could look into his eyes. “Aison, where, pray tell, is the shame in being broken?”
The little gorgon’s face blanked. “What do you mean? It’s bad. It’s always bad.”
“Quite the opposite,” Artemis said. “Being broken simply means finding where your limits are.”
“Mom never broke. Neither did Dad. Only me.”
“No, they most certainly did,” she said with a knowing smile. “They broke, but that only let them know where they needed to get better, stronger, smarter, faster. Breaking is nothing more than the signaling of a choice. It’s a choice where you can remain defeated, or you can realize that by simply refusing to give up, you prove to the world how unstoppable you are.”
Aison sniffed and wiped his nose before using both hands to rub his eyes clear. “I want to get better.”
“I know you do. And you will.”
“Will you teach me?” he asked.
“It would be my pleasure, Master Aison,” Artemis said with a bow.
“Master Aison?”
Artemis laughed and tussled the vipers on his head. “Never mind,” she said. “It’s a little something the mortals used to call each other from time to time. I like the way it sounds, don’t you?”
“I’d rather be a hero.”
“Well, Master Aison,” Artemis said, pushing herself up off her knee. “That’s a title you’ll have to earn one day. Think you can?”
“Mm-hm.”
“I don’t doubt that one bit,” she said. “Now come, let’s see what Athena has in store for us. Well, for me, at least.”
Artemis took the young gorgon by the hand and led him down the hall. It ended up being only a short walk until they reached Athena’s library. As always, the walls were packed with shelves filled with tomes and scrolls, but the floor space had been cleared away. Where freestanding bookcases had once stood, hundreds of small tables now took their place, and on each of those tables sat a chessboard.
“Hosting a tournament?” Artemis asked, throwing her half-sister a grin. “Is picking a fight with Father not entertaining enough?”
Athena, concentrating on one of the boards nearby, looked up from the game she studied. There wasn’t a hint of amusement on her face, something that troubled Artemis to no end. “No, and no,” Athena answered. “I’m not that lucky.”
“Then what is all this about?”
Athena opened her mouth to answer, but her eyes fell upon Aison, and she directed her next words at him instead. “Go find a book to read,” she said, motioning at the shelves behind them. “Artemis and I need to talk in private.”
“No,” he said.
Athena straightened as did Artemis. Athena spoke first. “Did you say no?”
“I said no,” he replied defiantly.
“Why?”
“That’s what Mommy said before,” he said. “Right before…at the aquarium.”
Though it was clear to them both that he was trying to be strong, the flutter in his voice belied the show, and Artemis squeezed his shoulder. “I think, perhaps, under the circumstances, we shouldn’t drive him away.”
“Nothing’s going to—” Athena cut herself off and sighed before forcing a smile. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m tired.”
“Think nothing of it,” said Artemis. “So, what are these boards about?”
“Games I once played with Dad,” she said.
“Because?”
“Because I’m trying to better understand how he thinks.”
“About chess?”
“About strategy.”
Athena’s answer wasn’t one Artemis would’v
e guessed in a thousand years. Athena, Goddess of War, could manage more campaigns than there were stars in the sky and never grow weary. The reason, then, for what she was doing, eluded the goddess. “I don’t follow.”
Athena eased her way around the table, her fingertips gracing its smooth marble surface. When she reached the other side, only a few paces from Artemis, Athena asked one question. “Why are you here?”
“You asked me to come,” Artemis said.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Athena said, giving a pained laugh. “By the Moirae, I can’t even form a question properly anymore.”
“Given what’s going on with Euryale,” Artemis said, carefully picking her words so as not to upset Aison, “I think you’re entitled to misspeak once or twice.”
“No, I’m not. And that’s exactly what I mean. Why are you following me when…Dad might have objections? I’m thinking, perhaps, you shouldn’t.”
Artemis reflexively tightened her grip on Aison, far more than she ever should have, for the boy yelped, and she quickly released him. “Apologies, Master Aison,” she said before returning to the conversation with her sister. “As for why? How could you even ask? It’s the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do.”
Athena clasped her hands together in front of her mouth and nodded thoughtfully. “It is, but I could be leading us both to destruction.”
“You think things with Dad will get worse?”
“I know they will, as much as I’d like to pretend otherwise.”
Stunned, Artemis didn’t know what to say. Never in her life had she ever seen such worry on any of the gods before, and certainly not Athena. No, not only worry, she corrected. Worry and self-doubt.
“Athena, listen to me,” she said. “If there’s anyone in Olympus who can keep things from getting worse, it’s you.”
“I wish I had your confidence,” Athena admitted, shaking her head. “And I only bring this up because if I make a mistake, there’s no reason for us both to bear his wrath. I would not hold it against you if you decided not to stay the course.”
A Storm of Blood and Stone (Myths of Stone Book 3) Page 15
