The Immortal Game

by Talia Rothschild

  Braxtus’s eyes widened as they stepped outside. The sun dipped toward the horizon, casting an orange glow on the destruction that was Mount Olympus. The earth appeared as though it had been ripped apart, then slammed back together. Everywhere he looked were toppled statues, wrecked temples, heaps of stone and mortar. “You said it’s been two days since all of this happened?”

  “You wouldn’t believe the cleanup shifts,” Kostas said dryly as they picked their way down the path. “We’ve been clearing out rubble, putting out fires … The Common Temples are in the worst condition. The Unnamed have been staying at their parents’ temples, or wherever there is room. Hestia and Athena have been organizing the rebuilding efforts.”

  They took a smaller path that wound through trampled gardens to a small, elegant temple. For being made primarily from glass, it was in good shape. Prisms cast rainbows at their feet as they moved to the front door.

  Kostas knocked twice, and it swung inward. They strode into the glittering entryway.

  Iris, Goddess of Rainbows and Messages, stepped out of her Linked Chamber to greet them, long red hair flowing behind her. Braxtus caught a glimpse of the treasures inside before the door closed quietly. She looked between the two of them.

  “Kostas.” She smiled. “How can I help you, my son?”

  Kostas just looked at Braxtus, eyebrows raised, so he stepped forward. “Iris, I came to request—”

  “You want to see Iyana Unnamed,” she guessed.

  He rubbed his beard uncomfortably. “Yes. Please.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” she questioned.

  Braxtus scowled, glancing at Kostas.

  Iris pursed her lips but beckoned them. They followed her through the temple and out the back door.

  She led them down a path and through a garden of olives. Braxtus held his breath as they skirted old, twisted trunks and ducked under silver branches. He’d never seen the Rainbow Glass before.

  The leaves thinned, opening into a small clearing. Braxtus’s mouth moved to a small O of wonder.

  Around the outer edge, twelve olive trees stood behind twelve marble pedestals, each with a silver amphora perched atop. Glowing torches hung from the branches, filling the clearing with dappled light. In the center of the clearing, three miniature metal trees sprung from the ground. The gold, silver, and bronze trunks climbed up to the height of Braxtus’s torso, then melted together, colors swirling to form a metallic rainbow cradle for a glittering bowl.

  It was beautiful in both a reverent and haunting kind of way.

  Braxtus shifted his weight as Iris lifted the amphora from the marble stand bearing the symbol of Zeus, then poured the contents of the jug into the basin. Crystal liquid sloshed over the edges and dripped down the metal stand, but Iris didn’t seem to mind. She emptied two other amphoras into the glass, those of Poseidon and Ares.

  Iris took a step back and opened her arms, welcoming them to look. Braxtus stepped forward and leaned over the ripples, heart thumping. The liquid and glass were clear, showing the swirl of metallic color beneath. The water shimmered, and an image began to form.

  Rocky ground raced past, as if the glass was in swift search. It slowed all at once, showing an overhead view of three travelers. Slowly, the view dipped down, until they were watching them from behind. An eerie evening fog from the land beyond was rolling in.

  The figures were downcast, walking somberly toward the unnatural mist. Braxtus’s eyes locked on Iyana, the setting sun glowing against her white-blonde hair. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

  “Where … where are they?” he asked, trying to identify the terrain. He turned to Iris, but her wise eyes were lost in the glass.

  Kostas stepped closer. “Why would they be traveling there? That place is dangerous.”

  Iris shook her head mutely.

  “Where are they going?” Braxtus looked between them.

  “They’re heading almost directly northeast,” Kostas explained.

  Braxtus scrambled to put a map in his head, then a new fear crept into his stomach. “They’re heading into the Land of the Taraxippi.”

  Kostas nodded, and Iris touched her finger to the center of the liquid. Braxtus gripped the sides of the bowl as the vision began to ripple away. “What are they thinking?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  “This whole situation keeps getting stranger,” Kostas muttered.

  Braxtus whirled on him. “They could be killed. Easily.”

  “Once you walk into that fog, there’s very little chance of ever getting out again,” Iris agreed, voice quiet.

  “Thank you for allowing us to look in your glass, Iris.” Braxtus bowed, mind racing. Iris nodded, watching them intently as Braxtus turned to lead Kostas out of the grove of trees. A short way up the path, Braxtus planted his feet and gripped his friend’s shoulder.

  “We have to go after them.”

  Kostas’s eyes bore into him. “I knew you were going to say that.”

  “Hear me out,” he said in a rush. “By going with you, an official deity, I will not be exiling myself. I can come back. Call it training for my Immortality Trial. We can go, help them, return, and no one here will be able to say we did anything wrong!”

  “You’re forgetting how delightful the Land of the Taraxippi is,” Kostas said dryly. “Filled with malicious ghosts and the dark gods who will be there to welcome us.”

  Braxtus lit his hand on fire. “Fire scares off ghosts.”

  “It’s still dangerous.” But Kostas had a glint in his eye, and Braxtus could see his mind working through it. It was one reason Braxtus had always liked Kostas—as logical as he was, he had a wild side. The God of Games wouldn’t be able to resist a quest.

  “If we leave tonight, we should catch them before they’re too far in.”

  “And you could say goodbye.” Kostas raised his eyebrows.

  Braxtus narrowed his eyes. “And you could talk to Galene and figure out more of what’s been happening.”

  They stared at each other challengingly for a long moment, but Braxtus knew he’d hooked him.

  Kostas jerked his head, mouth quirking up in a smile. “Let’s get packing.”

  They left that night, cloaked and armed, riding into the darkness at the fastest speed their stallions could sustain.

  11

  IYANA

  The sun’s morning rays shone over the horizon line in the distance and glowed against the prairie. Birds chirped in squat trees and rodents scurried through tall, yellow grasses. A warm, earthy scent reached Iyana on a breeze.

  She scowled at the welcoming atmosphere. The land ahead of them had been nothing like this the night before, with thick mists and unearthly sounds that kept her from sleep. “We just walk right in?”

  “As deep as we can. Before we run out of daylight.” Demitri, too, seemed wary, narrowing his eyes at the Land of the Taraxippi. They would be fairly safe in the day, but when night fell, the ghosts would fully emerge.

  Iyana glanced at Galene. “You’re sure we can find Chrysander before the sun sets?”

  She breathed out. “We better.” She led the way into the fields.

  They moved at an urgent pace, the morning hours creeping by. The landscape remained constant, but Iyana didn’t relax, staying close to Demitri and Galene.

  Around midday, a patch of dry grass caught Iyana’s eye. She stopped and stared. Strange white rocks peppered the earth, and she squinted at them before realizing with a chill what they were. Bones.

  Old rusted armor was half-covered in dirt and grass. The plating was dented and dull, smaller than what was forged for the gods.

  “Galene. Demitri.”

  They turned and followed her pointing finger.

  “Human.” Demitri said what she was thinking.

  “Come on,” Galene urged. “Let’s keep going.”

  They moved faster, silently agreeing not even to stop for food. The farther they traveled, the more bones and old armor they found buried in
dirt, until they had to pick their way around them. The scent of decay overpowered the earthy smell, and Iyana swallowed her bile.

  The land darkened, the afternoon sun muting to a dull red glow. Shadows grew longer than they ought to have been. The air turned humid. Wind whispered among the leaves and grass.

  Iyana focused on her ability and hushed the wind, trying to settle it. It pushed back, rustling the trees all the more loudly. Her heart gave a pound of panic—she hadn’t mastered her ability, but the wind had never fought her before.

  A rodent’s chatter turned to a bony laugh—a bird’s cry to a warped scream.

  Iyana quickened her step.

  As they walked on, a light mist descended.

  “It’s getting late.” Iyana pulled her sweat-dampened hair from the back of her neck. “I haven’t seen anything. No camps, no people, nothing but grass and trees and bones.”

  Demitri took her hand.

  “We’re close.” Galene kept her eyes fixed ahead. “We have to be.”

  Iyana swallowed, looking behind her to eye the diminishing distance between the sun and the mountains. Why did I agree to this in the first place? We could have gone to the sea.

  “Never,” an icy voice whispered in her ear.

  Iyana shrieked. Drawing a spike, she swung at empty air.

  “What is it?” Demitri whirled, staff in hand.

  Iyana breathed heavily, searching the surrounding shadows for signs of movement. “Nothing.” But she curled her fingers tighter around her spike.

  Red-streaked clouds bled across the mountains fringing the flatland, and the mist thickened into fog that swept over the ground. It forced them to slow down, their feet disappearing in the cloudy blanket. Iyana brought up her hands, pulling a southern wind to life. It responded, sending their hair flying, but as hard as she tried to sweep the fog away, the wind danced right over it, leaving it intact.

  She let it die out, sick to her stomach.

  An hour later, the sun was almost hidden behind the mountains.

  Iyana stopped, catching her friend’s arm. “Galene, he’s not here. I don’t see anyone.”

  Galene turned to look at her. Her face was drawn, tight with fear.

  “He has to be close. We’re in the heart of taraxippi territory.” Demitri paced in a circle, scanning the area.

  Iyana shook her head. “No one is here.”

  The last rays of sun winked away.

  They went still, looking at each other. A breath of chilly air fluttered down Iyana’s back, and the hair on her arms stood on end.

  Figures appeared around them: pallid and translucent, with robes and hair that undulated like vapor in a breeze and black, soulless eyes.

  “Run!” Galene took off. Iyana tore after her through the swirling clouds, Demitri right by her side.

  Under cover of darkness, the land transformed, revealing its true nature. Unnerving chanting, sinister drums, wails, choirs, howls, and cold laughter rose in incessant disharmony as they fled. Iyana caught only a few more glimpses of the taraxippi, but the images burned into her mind. They laughed at the intruders from the shadows, streaking across their path, reaching for them.

  Iyana ran blindly, trusting Galene was going in the best direction. The trees that had looked so short now towered above them, some appearing out of nowhere. She weaved with the others, breath coming in stitches.

  A short wall materialized before her in the darkness. Gasping, Iyana crashed into it, tumbling over and rolling as she hit the ground.

  Galene and Demitri skidded to a stop, spinning to check on her. She looked back. The wall was gone.

  Trembling, Iyana pushed her arms against the ground to stand up, but something grabbed her ankle and hauled her backward.

  She screamed as she was dragged a few feet, then released. Scrambling back toward her friends, Iyana drew a spike, turning to face her attacker.

  A white face appeared in front of her, inches away. Its jaw hung open, the translucent flesh decayed. She could see to its bones.

  With a shriek, she brought her blade up, right into its heart. It wasn’t just vapor—she felt her spike hit the creature, slowing and stopping as it entered the ethereal body. With all the power she could muster, she sent a blast of air tearing at it, but its tattered robes only fluttered.

  Heart pounding, she looked into its black eyes. The loose, gaping mouth drew up into a sickening smile. It pulled back, moving through the metal harmlessly.

  “What do I do?” Iyana whispered.

  “Run,” Demitri replied. “On my count. One … two…”

  The taraxippi lunged. Iyana spun and ran. Demitri let his javelin fly. It whistled past her ear, and she heard it clatter to the earth behind her. Demitri swore. He leapt for her, hand outstretched. Iyana reached out. Their fingers touched.

  Icy hands seized her legs and yanked her backward.

  “No!” he yelled.

  Iyana slammed onto her stomach. She tore at the grass as she was pulled back, desperately trying to get a hold of something. Demitri and Galene charged after her.

  Sharp nails dug into her calves. She kicked and twisted, but cold started to creep through her legs, paralyzing them. The icy, numbing sensation reached her stomach, and her insides began to freeze. She gasped, struggling for air, tears turning cold on her cheeks.

  A flash like lightning tore past her and the thing released her. Warmth flooded through her legs, and her body became her own again.

  She didn’t stop to think, leaping to her feet and sprinting toward Demitri. He reached out but was thrown backward by an invisible force, striking a tree across the glade with a dull thud. A taraxippi converged on him, but another streak of light cut through the night, slashing through the spirit. With a wail, it evaporated.

  Iyana looked around for the source of the light, but only saw more pallid faces in the darkness. She and Galene backed toward each other, clutching their worthless weapons.

  In the near darkness, a small flame sprang to life. It shot forward and struck another taraxippi. The spirit bellowed and backed away, a smoking hole in its chest. More missiles of flames exploded from the darkness, and the taraxippi fled, dissolving into the night.

  Hooves pounded, then two figures erupted through the fog.

  “Iyana!” a familiar voice called.

  Iyana blinked, gaping at the tall figure that swung down from his horse. “Braxtus?” Her legs moved of their own accord, and she ran and flung her arms around him. He caught her in a hug. His warmth enveloped her, and fresh tears flooded her eyes. “Braxtus, what—?”

  “Seems I’m always chasing after you, aren’t I?” Though his words were lighthearted, his voice sounded strained.

  “But—you didn’t—” She jerked back, scanning his face. “You’re not exiled, are you?”

  “No, no,” he assured her. “I’m supervised.”

  Iyana glanced over his shoulder to see Kostas, a flaming arrow nocked as he surveyed the territory from atop his horse.

  “What in Tartarus are you two doing here?” Demitri asked, rubbing the back of his head as he stumbled over. A dark expression settled on his face as he looked at Braxtus and Iyana. Her face heated, and she stepped toward Demitri.

  “We saw where you were headed in my mother’s Rainbow Glass,” Kostas explained.

  “We came to help,” Braxtus added. Demitri leveled a stare at him, and Braxtus raised his eyebrows in return. “I know you sons of Ares can usually take care of yourselves, but fire is the best weapon against the taraxippi.”

  “I think we frightened them off for now, but it won’t last forever.” Kostas swung from his horse.

  “Thank you.” Galene looked at them with a mixture of relief and curiosity.

  Braxtus turned his eyes back on Iyana. Even in the dark, she could make out so much on his face—fear, hurt, concern, caution. “What on Gaia are you doing out here?”

  She heard the other question behind this one: Why did you leave? She stared at him, guilt tugging at
her heart. As happy as she was to see her dear friend, she’d anticipated this being the clean break she’d needed from Braxtus. It’d been hard, seeing him consistently when she used to have such strong feelings for him. She was with Demitri. And Demitri was smart and handsome and made her feel wanted …

  Demitri put his arm around her, and she leaned into his touch. “We’re looking for Galene’s brother. He claimed some territory out here.”

  Braxtus searched her face, clearly wanting to ask more, but hesitating under the scrutiny.

  Whispers echoed in the trees. Branches snapped. Demitri withdrew his arm to snatch a weapon, and Iyana spun toward the new threat.

  Braxtus lit his hands on fire, letting the flames shoot toward the sky.

  Four hooded figures stepped into the flickering light.

  12

  KOSTAS

  Demitri had his staff poised before Kostas had fully drawn back his still-burning arrow, but Demitri faltered. “Chrysander?”

  The god leading the group pulled back his hood, and Braxtus’s firelight glowed against his coppery-brown hair. Kostas blinked at the striking resemblance to Galene, recognizing her older brother.

  The god grinned, joyous yellow dancing into his aura. “Demitri?” The two ran to each other, clasping hands and embracing. “What are you doing here?” Chrysander clapped Demitri’s shoulders. “Did my words of wisdom sink into that thick skull of yours?”

  Demitri rolled his eyes, shoving him off with a smile, then stepped aside so Chrysander could see the rest of them.

  Chrysander’s gaze fell on Galene, and the bright yellow swirling around him settled into a still, sky blue. His sea-green eyes lit up and he ran to her, arms outstretched.

  “Galene!”

  Her eyes sparkled as they met, and she buried her face in her brother’s shoulder. “It’s been so long since I’ve hugged you.” Her voice was muffled.

  “By the Fates it has!” He pulled back to look at her more closely. “You came!” He threw his arms around her again. Though the smile on her face was genuine, her own aura shone more dully than Chrysander’s. “I can’t believe I actually convinced you to come! What changed your mind?”