Shrugging, he rolled on his back and went back to sleep with the doll still in place, her little shoes vibrating and her dress flapping as he snored.
~
Agaprei had been allowed a little corner in the wine cellar of the temple to setup her desk. With Skýlos perched happily on her head, she filtered through the three stacks of well-worn textbooks. She hadn’t had this much to study since she left medical school.
She unrolled a chart and meticulously checked her study schedule. Dueling history before breakfast, ambrosia safety before morning chores, dueling etiquette before lunch preparation, and divine weapon maintenance before afternoon training. It would take careful planning to stay on top of her duties without falling behind on her certifications, but she did it with gusto. Planning was one of her favorite things.
As she carefully read over the text, she reached up and happily touched the waterfall shaped brand on the side of her neck. For a moment she allowed her mind to drift, basking in having accomplished such an important goal. She was a champion to a god, an honor bestowed on only a handful of individuals in the entire world. It made her feel ridiculously happy, but she squelched the feeling as quickly as it sprung up. This was no time to rest on laurels; there were more goals to achieve, more mountains to climb, before her dream would finally be realized.
Focusing her keen mind, she got back to the task at hand, allowing the world around her to fade away. Sounds and images became more and more distant, until nothing remained but her and the textbooks. This was her secret, the special palace in her mind that made everything else possible. Here, no one could hurt her. Here, she didn’t have to be afraid all the time. Here, she could be safe.
She absorbed the material in huge draughts, memorizing entire passages after only a few repetitions, placing them on a special shelf in her soul where they could await quick recall.
A hand rested upon her shoulder in that familiar way that made her scream, and her palace shattered around her.
“Don’t touch me!” she shouted in panic, swatting the hand away.
The goddess Mónos stepped back in shock. “Oh, I’m sorry I…”
Agaprei sat there, panting, her eyes wild with fright. “My…my apologies godmother…” she forced herself to speak.
“I didn’t mean to…”
Agaprei put her hand over her heart, forcing her breathing to slow. “It’s all right…you just startled me, that’s all.”
Mónos held her hand. “What…was that?”
“I’m sorry. I’m fine. I just thought I was alone. I don’t like to be touched.”
The goddess looked at her worriedly.
Agaprei tried to force herself to sound cheery, but failed utterly. “Shall I prepare the agenda for the day? I’ve already ordered your gown for the Autumn Gala.”
“The gala? What? No, you see, I don’t go to parties. I NEVER go to parties, okay? That’s what I wished to talk to you about. I feel like we’re going too fast. I really appreciate what you have done, but we need to slow down. It’s too much too fast for me. It’s making me nervous.”
“All right, I’ll be up shortly, godmother.”
The goddess walked away, apprehension on her face.
Alone, Agaprei touched her shoulder. She could still feel the sting of the touch, the smell of the breath. It had been years, yet it felt like it had just happened. Like it was still happening.
Skýlos hopped down and looked at her in concern, giving her clammy hand a little lick with his tongue.
Agaprei covered her face and tried as hard as she could not to cry.
She failed.
~
Philiastra sat down in the ship’s galley, her eyes alight at the delicious food that had been prepared. She tried to ignore all the priestesses at the tables near her as they ate and chatted, but they made that impossible. They were all much too skinny, much too beautiful, and definitely much too happy. It spoiled her mood just being around them.
“Human men have a broad spectrum of preferences,” she grumbled to herself as she crammed a scone into her mouth, “so why is it that the women Ambera picks are all the same body type?”
“Mind if I join you, Phili?”
Philiastra looked up to find Storgen standing over her with his tray. In his citizen robes, he really was quite fetching. As the weather grew warmer he had rolled up the sleeves, revealing his deliciously huge biceps.
She felt her cheeks growing warm as she stared at him. “Um…sure, yeah.”
As he sat down, the priestesses nearby began whispering discreetly to one another. Philiastra couldn’t make out their exact words. She didn’t have to. Their hushed tones told her everything she needed to know.
“…he sit with her?... …nasty… …feels sorry… …why would he… …hair
Philiastra shriveled under the weight of all the whispers. She felt like an awkward little girl in a room full of beautiful women. Dejectedly, she took another bite of scone as Storgen dangled a package before her.
It was wrapped in stray pieces of paper, held loosely together by some twine. It was lopsided, lumpy, and had a certain indiscernible odor that clashed starkly with her breakfast.
“What is that supposed to be?” she asked.
Gáta hopped down to the table and began eating happily.
“What do you think it is?” Storgen asked knowingly.
Philiastra’s eyes became wide. “Wait, is that a present?”
“Huh? Well, what do you know? I guess it is.”
“Is it for me?” she asked, getting more excited.
“I supposed it could be.”
“Gimme gimme gimme gimme!”
“All right, here you go.”
She began opening the crude wrappings, then grew suspicious. “This better not be another pair of hedge clippers.”
“That was just a joke. A one-time thing.”
“Well, it wasn’t funny.”
“It was a little funny, admit it.”
She gave him a coy smile and removed the rest of the wrapping. Inside she found an old and battered ceramic jar, broken fragments crudely glued back in, leaving a spider web of seams across its surface. But it was what was inside that caught her attention.
She had to press her eye up to see it through the cracks. A blue flame, like a kindled ball of beautiful pure moonlight, the white-blue sprite floating in the jar and pinging gently off the sides.
“Is this…it can’t be!”
Storgen threw up his hands. “Happy First Bloom!”
Her mouth fell open. “You remembered.”
“Of course I remembered.”
“Wait, you actually caught a moon sprite with that stupid trap?”
“Only took me five nights.”
Her eyes grew soft as she looked at it. The blue fire burned cold, and it gently cooled her cheek as she drew it closer. The priestesses whispered to each other and a few pointed, but this time Philiastra didn’t care.
She held the jar close to her heart. Despite the cool flame, she had never felt warmer.
“Thank you,” she said honestly.
He smiled at her warmly. “You’re welcome, Phili.”
Erolina stepped up to the table, wearing her armor.
“I need a sparring partner.”
“That’s nice,” Storgen said, popping a date into his mouth.
“Come with me.”
“Not interested.”
His response caught her a little off guard. “As champions of Ambera, we have a duty to hone our craft.”
“Still not interested.”
She looked around gallingly. “To maintain a level of excellence, one must practice constantly.”
“This may seem strange to hear, but I actually don’t like to fight unless I have to. It’s not pleasant for me. It’s not a game.”
Philiastra looked at him sympathetically.
“Every bad memory I have is tied to fighting,” Storgen admitted. “So, go be a good little chess piece an
d grease your armor or something.”
“I am not a chess piece.”
“Oh please. How do you think Ambera sees you? The difference between you and a slave is that a slave doesn’t boast about it.”
“Our feelings are irrelevant. We are warriors. We can see the black breath. You have a duty to…”
“Oh, now I’m a warrior? I thought I was just the guy at the pita stand to you.”
Erolina tried to calm her rising temper. “If it will spare your pride, I will promise not to use any magic as we spar.”
“Oh, because that’s not condescending at all, right?”
Erolina narrowed her eyes. “Are you being intentionally obtuse?”
“Not at all. I’m being perfectly logical.”
“Such nonsense.”
Storgen picked up a mug of hot chocolate and took a sip. “Okay, let me spell it out for you in terms you will understand. Training with you would be a dereliction of my duty.”
“You would lecture me on duty?”
“I don’t want to, but you leave me no choice. Let me ask you, do you train the day before a duel?”
“Of course not.”
“Why?”
“To purify my mind and spirit before a match.”
“No, because after a strenuous morning workout, you’re exhausted, and you have to let your body rest and recover.”
“A huntress does not feel exhaustion, she does whatever is necessary to fulfill her duty.”
“Really?”
Without warning, Storgen tossed his mug at her. She snapped to catch it, but fumbled it in her hands, the vessel falling to the floor and shattering.
“Dung-eating fool!” she shouted, flicking the spilled liquid off her hands. “Why did you do that?”
“Normally, you would have caught that without spilling a drop, am I right? But right now your muscles are fatigued and your reflexes are dulled, because you just spent all morning pushing your body past its limits.”
“What are you getting at?”
“What if you had to fight right after a workout? You’d be totally spent before the fight started, you’d be at a huge disadvantage.”
He leaned back, his eyes growing distant. “When you live on the street, you can’t afford to put yourself in that position. You say I am being hunted, so I cannot afford the luxury of training like you do. I must be ready to fight at any time. To do otherwise would be a dereliction of my duty as a champion of Ambera.”
Philiastra gawked at him. “Wow, that…actually made a lot of sense.”
“Thank you.”
“Frankly I’m shocked, given that it came from you.”
“Hey!”
Erolina stood up indignantly. “You may have made a few good points, but you make them insincerely. We both know your true reason. You’re just making excuses because you’re lazy.”
“Oh, so you’re a mind-reader now, too?”
Her temper snapped and Erolina grabbed him by the collar, lifting him up out of his seat. “Again you strip me of my pride! You’re willing to spend time with her. Why do you reject me? Am I not as good as she?”
Storgen looked around. “What are you talking about?”
Catching herself, she released his collar and turned away. “Nothing…it’s nothing.”
Her shoulders slumped, and her head fell a little. “I’ll find someone else to spar with.”
Storgen watched her as she walked away. There was something different in her demeanor, almost sheepish.
Philiastra bent her fork as she watched her leave. “I don’t like her.”
“She’s probably a really nice gal once you get to know her.”
“I doubt that. I doubt that very much.”
Philiastra scooted her chair up close to Storgen.
“Amazons aren’t like other beastmen,” she whispered. “They’re butchers. They attack every tribe around them, expanding their territories, taking in slaves, laying waste to entire regions. They’re like a plague of locusts, spreading and destroying everything in their path. The only other tribe that could even stand them were the centaurs.”
“A tribe with its own bloody reputation.”
“Exactly. But the two fought alongside one another for generations. They were as close as allies can be in the Beastmen Confederacy. They fought the sirens, the satyrs, the griffins, the minotaurs, for the longest time it was basically all the rest of the tribes against just those two.”
“I’ve actually never been to the Confederacy. Too many forests.”
“Yeah, well, when the centaurs became weakened, the amazons didn’t hesitate to betray them. They attacked their former allies without mercy. Now that tribe is all but extinct.”
Philiastra looked him over, letting her words sink in. “I don’t think you should be spending so much time around her.”
Storgen raised an eyebrow. “Phili, are you jealous of her?”
She turned bright green. “No, I’m not jealous, you dummy. I’m trying to keep you safe.”
* * *
“Land ho!”
The steamship slowly slid up onto the beach, its giant screws slowly grinding to a pleasant stop. The sands here were made up of countless tiny beads of colored glass. Peach and apricot, grapefruit and lime in all of their varieties. The water here was so clear, it was if it were itself made of glass, refusing to foam even as it washed up along the glassy shore.
From the deck, Storgen and Pops could look straight down to the colorful coral reef below, every fish and anemone perfectly visible in the cool clear waters. Here, there was nothing to hide. Here, all was what it appeared to be.
The forests beyond the bluffs were another story entirely. Thick canopies of gnarly branches rose up hundreds of feet into the air, lapping up all the sunlight, leaving the forest below bathed in shadow. Hanging clumps of algae glowed like lamps, as if a million fireflies danced about in the cool breeze. Branches from neighboring trees grew together like hands, cupping glowing clusters of light that pulsed like heartbeats. Light moved from tree to tree, flowing along vein-like channels in the bark, amber rivers of light that flowed into one another.
The place was unnaturally quiet. No birds or crickets cried out, only the lapping waves against the glassy beads of the beach.
Erolina came out with the captain, and several sailors threw a rope ladder over the side.
“There’s a natural spring just up the road,” she explained. “We can use it to replenish the ship’s fresh water. You may begin your repairs.”
“Aye, Scythe.”
Erolina tossed empty water pouches to Storgen. “You are to stay at my side, human.”
“You still don’t seem to get me.”
She leaned in close. “Or, I suppose I could tell them the furnace is failing because you are on board. They’re likely to maroon you here.”
Storgen threw the pouch over his shoulder. “Perhaps you do get me, after all.”
He slapped Pops on the shoulder. “Come on, old man, we need to get you away from your wifus for a minute.”
“But I’m not finished cataloguing the collection yet,” he protested as he was dragged along.
Philiastra was livid when she looked out over the gunwhale. “You brought me to Dasikí Chará, Scythe?”
“I didn’t bring you anywhere. We may need a crystal tuner to prime the well. Are you going to do your job or not?”
“You do realize I grew up here? Are you intentionally trying to anger me?”
Erolina looked out into the forest ominously. “Believe me, I don’t want to be here, either.”
The captain and crew got to work as Erolina’s party walked away, the glassy beads making a crunch beneath their feet that felt unusually loud because of the lack of other sounds.
Storgen jumped up and down a of couple times, enjoying the crunching sensation.
“It’s like jumping into a pile of leaves,” he observed.
Philiastra huffed. “You humans have no idea how offensive that is.�
��
“Why would jumping on a pile of leaves be offensive? Everyone loves jumping into leaf piles. That was like my favorite thing to do when I was younger.”
“Oh yeah? What would you think if I enjoyed jumping on piles of human bones to make them crunch?”
Storgen paused. “I’d wonder where you got all the bones.”
“You two bicker like an old married couple,” Erolina complained as she climbed up the bluff and carefully surveyed the road beyond.
“We do not!” Storgen and Philiastra said in unison.
Pops didn’t like what he saw when he looked out on the ancient road. “We can’t go this way, it veers too close to the forest.”
“Humans used this road for hundreds of years,” Erolina reasoned. “They wouldn’t have been able to if it got that close to the forest.”
Pops wrapped his bony arms around himself. “Still.”
They all grew silent as they walked down the holloway. The earthen embankments rising up alongside them, the blooming orchids overreaching into a canopy above them. It was like walking down a naturally formed tunnel. It gave them an eerie feeling, as if they were passing between worlds.
Storgen found it particularly troubling. The walls felt tighter with each step, his vision tunneling a little more with each breath. The path seemed to stretch on for eternity, shifting and wiggling in the distance like a serpent.
He tried to focus on something beyond, but the only thing beyond was the forest approaching on one side, and that was anything but comforting. With every step, he felt more and more strained.
Philiastra, on the other hand, seemed to be improving in mood the further they went. Her steps became a skip, her breathing became happy little whistles. She seemed brighter and lighter than he had ever known her to be.
That’s when he noticed it. The leaves of her hair were exactly the same as the leaves of the nearing trees. The color of her eyes was the same as the ferns and vines. The vibrant moss was the same color as her skin. When he squinted, she seemed to simply vanish into the impenetrable forest, as if she were made of it, or it were made of her. She truly belonged here, in a way that went far beyond home or hearth.
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