He caught sight of what he’d tripped over—a young god with dark hair. His heart lurched. Grabbing the god’s shoulder, he flipped him over, only to see his glazed, dead eyes. It was Endymion, one of the most recent gods to gain immortality. A short dagger was buried in his chest, and ichor pooled beneath him.
Braxtus let go and staggered to his feet. Though they never aged, no Immortal was invulnerable. Only the Twelve Olympians were truly unable to die. Still, Braxtus had never seen a dead Immortal before.
It was one thing if the Olympians engaged these beasts, but if others, especially the Unnamed, had to face them … He snapped his gaze to the Common Temples. Disfigured beasts careened and galloped up the mountain, getting closer to the most vulnerable of the gods and goddesses.
“Unnamed!” Diantha bellowed as she fought.
Braxtus sheathed his sword and threw himself back into action, sprinting for the archway. This time, when a riled, deformed manticore lunged for him, he called on his element and shoved his hands out in front of him. Fire raced to his fingertips, shooting toward the creature, who screeched and reeled away.
Braxtus snatched the horn from the wall and put it to his lips, blowing three short blasts. The volume of the horn had been magnified by someone’s gift, and the powerful tone thrummed through the air, sure to be heard much farther up the mountain.
Monsters screamed and stamped at the noise. A few scattered guards tried desperately to hold them at bay. One of the smaller, uglier beasts leapt at a guard, and the god turned to stone under its gaze.
Kronos! Braxtus kept the horn fisted in his hand as he tore up the path toward the Common Temples. He blew the horn again as he ran, three more short blasts.
Another horn echoed in response, and torches lit around a few of the lower temples. A third blared, then a fourth as more people took up the warning. Braxtus began to see gods and goddesses rushing out of their respective temples, responding to the call to congregate at the summit.
A harpy-like creature swooped overhead, landing on the roof of the Upper Common Temple. Someone screamed as its powerful barbed tail swung through the roof, sending granite and slate flying.
Bleary-eyed young gods and goddesses stumbled through the doors. They gaped and pointed at the enormous fox that tore through Persephone’s flower fields, shrieking at the dark shadows of other beasts. A few of the older Unnamed pulled out weapons, herding the others up the path. Braxtus let out a breath of relief as he saw Demitri among them, taking charge. The son of Ares might be at the bottom of his friends list, but he was more than handy in a fight.
Braxtus skidded to a stop. “Is everyone out?” he shouted to Demitri.
“I think so!” Demitri called back, eyes sweeping over the group as he lifted a young boy into his arms.
“Where’s Iyana?” Braxtus looked through the faces for her, and Demitri groaned.
“She was with me a minute ago. I grabbed her from her room—”
Braxtus turned and looked along the path, scanning frantically. His eyes locked onto a spill of white-blonde hair, a small, determined figure racing not up the path, but down it.
He threw his hands up. “Where are you going?” he said aloud. Without bothering to mention Iyana’s location to her boyfriend, Braxtus charged back down the mountain, leaving Demitri to take care of the other Unnamed.
Iyana was fast, but Braxtus was faster. He gained on her until he got close enough to catch her attention. “Iyana!”
She paused, glancing back over her shoulder. “Braxtus?”
He caught up to her. “What are you doing? It’s not pretty down there.”
A roar split the air so loudly that the ground trembled. Hermes came sweeping down the mountain in his winged shoes, the first of the Olympians to engage the beasts.
“Galene is in the infirmary!” Iyana said. “I think the healers left her behind!”
“What? Why?”
“I saw them evacuate. Galene wasn’t with them, and she isn’t even supposed to be walking alone.” Without waiting for his response, she raced along the path, taking the fork that led to the infirmary.
Braxtus pounded after her. “I’m coming with you!”
They burst into the infirmary, and Iyana made a beeline for the right wing, throwing open one of the doors. The bed was unmade, and a few linens stained with ichor had been laid on a table, but other than that the room was empty.
Braxtus sensed Iyana’s mounting panic and caught her elbow. “This just means she headed up the mountain on her own. She’ll be fine. She’s around here somewhere.”
Iyana nodded, her eyes flicking down to the hand on her arm.
He flushed and dropped it. Casual contact between them still came naturally to him. It stung that he’d have to work on that. “Come on, we have to get to Zeus’s temple. It’s dangerous out there.”
“What happened?” she asked as he led the way from the infirmary. “I saw a few of the creatures, but—”
“Someone tampered with the Decks of Fates,” he explained. “There are dozens of them, and they all have to be killed to disappear.”
“Who? Why?”
“Don’t ask me, all I saw was—”
A harsh squeal was the only warning they had before something dark and hulking erupted onto the path before them. Iyana let out a surprised shriek, and it locked its tiny eyes on them. Vampiric teeth curved around its snout. Body of a Calydonian Boar, fangs of a mormolykeia …
It pounded the ground once with its hoof, then charged them, head lowered.
“Look out!” Iyana ran into him, shoving him aside, and it stormed past. She reached for the spikes on her back as it spun around on nimble feet. Hefting one, she threw it at the beast, but it skittered off its thick hide. She cursed colorfully, wind swirling her hair.
Braxtus swung his shield from his back and unsheathed his sword. “Just like old times, right?”
“The practice beasts were never this size!”
“Maybe not, but we had our fair share of fun.”
Under any other circumstance, he was sure he would have gotten a laugh from her, but she just palmed another throwing spike, going shoulder to shoulder with him.
The creature raged toward them. Braxtus and Iyana both waited, then sprang to each side at the last second, swinging their weapons at the creature. Braxtus put all his strength into the stroke, but his sword bounced away. The boar reared and spun toward Iyana, but a gust of wind swept her out of reach. She started running.
“Braxtus!” she shouted over her shoulder. “I think this boar has the hide of a Nemean Lion!”
“Maybe we can just outrun it!” he yelled back, running after her.
A magnified voice boomed across Olympus. “The boundary is on lockdown to prevent the beasts from escaping to the humans. Those fighting, search for the goddess responsible: Galene Unnamed, Daughter of Poseidon.”
Braxtus’s stomach lurched, and he stumbled to a halt.
Iyana seized his arm, crystal-blue eyes wide in horror.
Rhythmic pounding rang on the path. He turned, breaking her grip as the boar rushed them.
Leaping in front of her, he raised his shield. It crashed into the boar’s jaw, and both he and the monster staggered. Braxtus went down, rolling to keep his shield above him as the hooves descended, pounding into the metal.
He cried out as the edge of the shield drove into his stomach, cutting through skin, crushing him. Pain exploded through his torso.
“Braxtus!”
Through streaming eyes he watched as Iyana charged the monster, slashing at its face. It squealed and backed up, then turned and fled.
“Help!” A strong wind whipped to life around them as Iyana summoned it, snatching her voice to carry it away. “Braxtus Unnamed needs help! We’re by the infirmary!”
He groaned, gritting his teeth against the brutal pain, but even as Iyana dropped to her knees beside him, darkness spotted his vision.
6
KOSTAS
Plumes
of smoke rose toward the roiling red storm clouds above. Below on the mountain, dozens of temples were already wrecked, a few utterly demolished, only pillars and rubble where proud edifices had been.
Kostas stood between the temples of Demeter and Hermes at the top of Mount Olympus, bow at the ready for any monsters that got past the barrier of fighters. Auras of black fear and red anger clung to both the Immortals and Unnamed clustered in the shadow of Zeus’s massive temple. Even a few dryads, the tree spirits of Olympus, had joined the place of sanctuary, ghostly green forms wailing as they huddled together.
The creature two temples below reared its horned head, fire erupting from its maw, the force and heat incinerating leaves in the grove.
Zeus dropped from the sky before Kostas, a frighteningly calm expression on his face. The air cracked with electricity as he raised his arms, then pointed at the beast.
Boom! Lightning splintered from the sky, blinding Kostas for an instant as it struck. When the spots faded from his vision, all that was left of the creature were a few dusty trails of light. Zeus closed his eyes and raised his arms to call for more.
The ground shook, and Kostas staggered, turning to watch as Poseidon ripped a hole in the mountain just beyond Aphrodite’s temple. A snarling three-headed dog with countless eyes tried to scramble free of the chasm, but plummeted, swallowed by the earth as Poseidon wrenched the ground together again.
A shadow passed overhead, and Kostas pulled back on his bowstring, following it before letting the arrow fly.
It pierced a wing of a scaly pegasus, which careened in the air, screeching. Kostas’s keen eyes made out the dark figure of his father, catching up to it on winged sandals. Bringing his golden sword down, Hermes skewered the creature. The pegasus burst into light, disappearing, and Hermes nodded once at his son in appreciation. Kostas saluted back with his bow, and his father returned to the hunt.
Kostas looked around again. Though the destruction was horrible, almost all the creatures had been killed. Ares seemed to be taking care of one of the last, tearing into the creature with an ax.
A beam of light appeared, like a comet streaking at him. He snapped his gaze toward it, and a moment later, a beefy Olympian with long, golden curls came into view on a chariot pulled by two pegasi. Apollo, God of the Sun, Prophecy, and Healing, was spattered in gore, with the most intense red aura of anyone Kostas had seen tonight. He was livid.
A moment later, Kostas recognized the two Unnamed who sat next to him. Shouldering his bow, Kostas ran to help as they landed on the singed grass before Zeus’s temple.
“Braxtus,” he groaned. His best friend was slumped against Iyana, unconscious and soaked in ichor. Iyana’s aura swirled gray in worry, and Apollo stood in the chariot, snapping for healers to tend to his son. They broke free of the cluster of gods and hurried over, Demitri on their heels.
Kostas helped them lift Braxtus from the chariot, and they nodded their gratitude, staggering off under his weight through the open doors of Zeus’s temple, which had been turned into a temporary infirmary. Demitri gave Iyana his hand to help her down, then pulled her into a hug, his aura showing mixed anxiety and irritation.
“Last one, Apollo!” the goddess Artemis called to him from her own chariot, pointing at a massive silver fox that leapt over a small temple and streaked for the Eastern boundary line. Apollo snapped his reins and took off after his twin sister.
“Continue the search for Galene Unnamed!” Athena shouted to all within earshot.
Galene. He would have been furious, too, after a Trial like hers, but this? From what he knew of her, the destruction around him seemed far from her character. But if the Olympians are so sure, they must have proof.
A few minor gods and goddesses broke free of the group at the summit to join the search, moving down the Southern slope in the direction of the arena.
He snorted. If Galene truly was guilty, she would have fled the scene of the crime. He turned his back to the search parties and rounded Zeus’s temple, stopping to look down the Northern slope. Though still cast with a red hue, there was much less clamor and destruction on this side.
Crossing his arms, he narrowed his eyes, searching for an aura that might not match the fear and anger of the others around him. A few long minutes later, he caught sight of the glow of dark green. Confusion. He almost passed over it—it hadn’t been an uncommon hue that night—but he paused, looking back. The color was hardly tinged with fear at all, and certainly not anger.
A moment later, with the crunch of staggering footsteps hurrying up gravel, he could make out the owner’s face—sea-green eyes and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks.
Got you.
He waited in silence as Galene drew closer to him, limping toward Zeus’s temple. She didn’t seem to notice him waiting in the shadows until Kostas rushed forward and seized her arm.
“Hey! What are you doing?” she protested, eyes widening.
“Come with me.” He dragged her forward. She let out a groan, clasping her side, and he slowed their pace a little.
“Kostas?” she questioned. “Let go of me. What’s happening?”
Kostas didn’t answer as he pulled her back around the side of Zeus’s temple. She resisted him, but the green hue around her intensified as she took in the destruction.
“I found Galene Unnamed,” he said loudly.
The few around him who heard repeated the call.
“What is going on?” Galene’s tone suddenly had an edge of panic in it, orange flaring in her aura. “Kostas, tell me what’s happening!”
“You tell me.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Apparently, you’re responsible for this.”
She blanched, jaw dropping, and uneasiness settled into his gut. Her aura bloomed with bright green—genuine shock. Something wasn’t right.
The Twelve Olympians swarmed, running up or landing from the sky with eyes full of fire.
Kostas pushed her into their midst, and she turned around, stunned as they formed a circle around her.
7
GALENE
Twelve pairs of eyes bored into her, each Olympian emanating their strange, ethereal light. Behind them, silhouettes of the crowd pressed in. Embers danced into the night from the burning land and temples behind them, reinforcing the nightmare.
Through the smoky darkness, she found her father’s eyes. His wild beard did nothing to hide his disappointment and disbelief. Turning slowly, she searched for one among the Olympians who hadn’t already condemned her for the chaos she could see. Her courage shrank with every grim face.
“How dare you?” Aphrodite, Goddess of Love and Beauty, spoke first, face screwed up in fury.
“We should have known,” Hephaestus grunted. “It runs in the blood.”
Rage spiked through her fear and confusion.
“Galene Unnamed.” She tried not to flinch at the anger behind Zeus’s voice. “The lives lost, the shrines, temples, and grounds you have destroyed, all call out for justice. We condemn you for your crimes.”
“I—” Her throat closed up.
“Strike her down now!” Ares bellowed. The God of Bloodlust and War sent a jolt of fear through Galene. His brown eyes were tinted dangerously red. Those eyes were famous for shifting to the color of blood when the Olympian lost control.
“No, let’s hear what she has to say for herself!” Athena snapped. Despite her short stature, the Olympians fell silent at the Goddess of Wisdom’s demand.
Galene found her voice. “What do you think I’ve done?”
Ares snarled, a couple of others muttered. Apollo stepped forward. “I’ll lay it out,” he said. “After your humiliation in the arena today, you decided to retaliate. You broke into the arena vault to steal two Decks of Fates, then created the beasts that have wreaked havoc upon our sanctuary.”
The ground seemed to become unsteady, and Galene staggered, the pain in her side a distant throb. This can’t be happening. This isn’t real …
“You mu
rdered an Immortal and are responsible for the injury or death of several dozen other gods and goddesses,” Athena added.
“Galene wouldn’t have!” a familiar voice shouted, and Iyana pushed her way to the front of the crowd, firelight flickering on her pale face.
A crack of thunder and a threatening look from Iyana’s father silenced her, but her wild blue eyes found Galene’s.
“No,” Galene choked out. “She’s right, it wasn’t me, I wouldn’t—”
“We have proof,” Hera snapped. She stood with a tall, gilded scepter in hand, chin held high, blue eyes blazing.
How can they have proof? Galene looked back to the king of the gods. Zeus waved a hand, and the God of Prophecy took a menacing step into the circle. Galene resisted the urge to retreat.
“Tonight I had a dream!” Apollo announced, sweeping a hand around him. A moving image glowed to life in the air, showing the scenes of destruction across Olympus. “A vision of Galene’s crime.”
The image blurred and changed. Galene watched a shadow running up a path she knew well—the trail that led from the Common Temples to the arena. The arena stood ahead, and a second building came into view.
The armory could easily pass as a squat temple sitting in the shadow of the arena. The bright fires surrounding the armory and arena cast a flickering light on the phantom, who wore a dark brown, almost black cloak, the cowl pulled low over their face.
The figure crouched, moving swiftly until they were between the two buildings. There they slowed, stalking past doorways until they reached the far end of the armory. A lone guard stood around the corner—Valence, the Immortal.
The figure lashed out with incredible speed, snaking a hand around the guard’s mouth and slamming the butt of a dagger into his temple.
Galene almost choked. She knew that wave pattern on the hilt, the blue leather tied around it. The dagger was hers—the one she’d dropped in the arena today. The one she hadn’t retrieved.
The Immortal Game Page 4
