Erolina stepped closer and found her opponent pinned beneath the remains of instruments and hardwood. With a superior sniff, she placed her foot onto Philiastra’s chest, grinding the heel in for good measure. “You yeasty scut, do you really think you stand a chance against…?”
Philiastra’s legs erupted in blue flame and she kicked the amazon off of her. Erolina smashed into the animal cages, knocking several over before colliding with a support column. The ground split and great roots grew up through the floor, wrapping themselves around Erolina’s ankles and wrists, curling around her midsection, and gripping tightly around her neck.
Erolina struggled against the roots, her immense strength cracking and snapping the living wood. She tore free the root wrapped around her arm, only to have two more take its place. She snapped free the root about her ankle, only to have three more wrap around her leg. “You toad-spotted fly-bitten pignut!”
Philiastra hobbled to her feet, clutching her injured midsection. Her hand bathed in blue fire, she coughed up a splattering of green blood, then commanded the roots to tighten further. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
The roots throttled Erolina’s throat, but she only chuckled hoarsely. “Who’d have thought you’d have this much heart? Fine then, I’ll give you my final lesson. You and Storgen need to slay something together. In my tribe, it’s the best way to bond.”
Erolina whipped her head about, smashing the morning star at the end of her long pony tail into the lock of a damaged cage. Philiastra tried to react, but Erolina was far too fast. She whipped her hair around and smashed the lock again, breaking it clear and free from its mounting.
The white tiger within leapt out, biting and clawing through the roots that impeded it before making a mad dash for freedom. Her arm unbound, Erolina drew her dagger and sliced through her remaining bonds. Philiastra grew a fresh set of roots, but her target had already leapt away, high into the air.
Guests and gladiators began pouring out of the hall, the priestesses doing their best to keep the retreat from becoming an all-out rout. Wiping his face, Pops came out of the purging chamber, looking around in wonder at what was happening.
Roaring like a lioness, Erolina came crashing down atop Philiastra, grabbing her neck between her thighs then rolling forwards, flicking the forest nymph through a stage, scenery and costume racks scattering like playing cards. Philiastra instinctively grew a wall of thorns to protect herself, but Erolina simply charged through it, slashing the barbarous stalks to ribbons with her dagger. She caught Philiastra with a back-handed punch to the face, an elbow strike to the sternum, then a butterfly kick to the head that sent her smashing through a dance floor, wood splintering everywhere.
A fresh root grew up to bind her hand but Erolina grabbed it instead. With a flash, the magical energies within were siphoned out, leaving it limp. A second root whipped at her and met a similar fate.
“Diseased radish, I am getting really sick of your...”
Suddenly, the table she stood on was flung up into the air like a catapult, a great stalk of green ramming it upwards. Erolina was thrown up high into the air. She crashed through the center of the stained glass ceiling, then came ramming back down, a ball of red-hot fire forming in her hands.
The air grew deathly cold as Philiastra stood up, gathering up her blue fire in her palms.
The entire building began to shake as the energies built to a shrill crescendo.
“I’ll never let you have him!” Erolina screamed, releasing a beam of heat.
“I hate you, amazon!” Philiastra roared, releasing a beam of cold.
The two energies slammed into one another like a crack of thunder. Actors flung themselves out windows, minstrels crawled beneath chairs. Tables were flung around like playing cards, and slaves cowered behind statues.
Half the hall began to freeze, ice forming on every surface, cracking and thickening layers of frost, while the other half rippled with heat, ice sculptures melting away, food withering, and tablecloths shriveling.
The Shield of Nisi stood amid the chaos, his arms outstretched, taking in the chaos and carnage around him with delight.
“This greatest party ever!”
~
His face twisted in pain, Storgen managed to pull the ceremonial dagger free from his shoulder as he huddled behind the bar. Grabbing the sleeve of his dress suit, he tore it free, then held one end in his teeth, fighting to bandage his wound.
But a set of light footfalls made him stop. Too faint to be heard amid the battle raging around him, he sensed the steps draw near. He felt the murderous presence closing in with a chill in his heart.
Storgen looked up and saw the eyes of the white tiger as it rounded the corner, lethal hunger in its inhuman eyes.
“Oh, that’s not good.”
Quick as lightning, the animal pounced ferociously, its claws tearing deep channels in the floor. A maw of razor sharp fangs opened up, closing in on Storgen’s throat. Just as the tiger reached him, its eyes flashed with light, and it collapsed atop of Storgen.
Lord Krýo Fidi stepped into view, his hand glowing like pure light as he replaced his white glove and took care to fit it.
Storgen could only stare at him as he lay there. “That wasn’t a gift. Did you just…wield magic?”
“I would ask you to keep this a secret,” the man responded as he rolled the beast off of him. “I’m afraid my uniqueness would catch the attention of the Alchemy Tower were it widely known.”
Storgen tried to process what he had just seen. “But, why would you save me? I thought you hated me.”
Lord Krýo took a moment to tidy up his curly blonde hair. “My feelings are irrelevant. It is the duty of a gentlemen to protect others. But that’s not why I did it.”
“Then why did you do it?”
He looked at Storgen with his kind eyes and held out his hand to help him up. “Because it was the right thing to do.”
~
The two beams crackled and thundered, blue and red lightning arcing free and tearing apart the floor and walls.
Philiastra’s beam grew weaker and weaker, until finally it died out all together. Erolina held back, watching as her opponent fell to her knees in exhaustion. While Philiastra struggled with each painful breath, Erolina wasn’t even winded.
“You’re lucky I didn’t have my weapons and armor,” Erolina threatened. “You wouldn’t have lasted three seconds against me.”
Philiastra fell forward onto her hands, barely able to remain conscious. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky my forest isn’t ready yet. I would have had an army to use against you.”
The two stood there before one another. Their dresses were in tatters, their hair gnarled and tangled, their makeup running down their faces.
They looked so completely and utterly absurd, Erolina couldn’t help but grin.
Seeing her grin, Philiastra couldn’t help but smile.
Erolina let out a chuckle.
Philiastra began to giggle.
Erolina started to laugh.
Philiastra laughed with her.
The two of them laughed as they faced each other, a deep hearty, long laugh, that echoed through what remained of the hall. They laughed until they cried, and then laughed some more.
“What are we doing?” Erolina managed to blurt out.
“I don’t know,” Philiastra answered, gasping for breath. “This is so stupid.”
Gradually, the laughter died down. Their anger spent, they looked at one another differently than they had before, though neither one of them dared say it aloud. There was still anger and resentment, but there was a bit of respect as well.
Some of the debris shifted, and Priestess Cailey freed herself. She was covered from head to toe with blobs of yogurt from the destroyed dessert table.
“Ah man, I got covered in yogurt again.”
Erolina and Philiastra busted out laughing again in unison. “Again? What again?”
The remains
of a lounger split in half and Priestess Ophira stood up, similarly spackled. “My key…where’s my key?”
She checked her belt, then checked all around.
“Mine’s gone too,” Cailey realized, grabbing her belt.
“When did I lose it? It was right here just a minute ago.”
Erolina reached down for hers, but found it missing as well. They all turned to the far end of the hall, and found the coffin of living ice open, all six magic locks hanging open, their keys still inside.
“Oh no!”
They sprinted over to the coffin, and their fears were realized. The Kleidí Ailuros was gone.
“Who took it?” Ophira gasped in a panic.
Erolina glanced back behind the bar, where the Hellenic Blade lay, along with several spatters of blood. “Who indeed?”
Chapter Twenty One
…thus the elemental brothers of Chaos and Order perished together, allies at last. The defeat sent shockwaves through the divine community, and the ambush came to be known as the Battle of Tears…
…The bodies of Chaos and Order turned to ash, save their hearts which finally beat as one. Reinala, unable to…
…cast their hearts into the south sea, the heat causing the water to boil, the steam rising up and creating the clouds which we see in the sky to this very day…
…the Fates created the human race from the ashes of the two brothers, thus humans inherited attributes from both the body of Chaos and the body of Order…
- Carving discovered along the broken foundation of the glass pyramid of Aígyptos.
Erolina and Priestess Ophira watched as the steamship sailed off into the ring of mist that encircled Kólasi, flying fish scattering away as it pierced the wall of fog.
Ophira fidgeted with her talisman sadly. “I had dreamed about being given an opportunity for leadership for years, studying under the high-priestess, waiting for my chance…Now, it’s become a complete fiasco. The Acropolis destroyed, the Kleidí Ailuros stolen, the festival a joke. I’ll lose everything.”
“I relieved you of command, Ambera will punish me, not you.”
“Even still, I’ll never get a chance like this again. I failed my goddess.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“How can you say that?”
“It doesn’t matter what others think. It doesn’t even matter what Ambera thinks. You know you worked diligently. You know you did the right thing. You kept your honor. That is all that matters.”
“Don’t blaspheme.”
“The truth is never blasphemy.”
Ophira looked at her angrily. “I know it is not my place, but does it not seem unwise to send our envoy to Themiskyra without Storgen?”
“Technically, it doesn’t matter where he is. So long as he is out of the hands of the Alchemy Tower, Ambera can continue her extortion schemes and I can keep sending tribute to my people.”
“Maybe he’s already left the island.”
“No, he’s still here somewhere.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because he is searching for something, and the ship to his next location doesn’t leave till tomorrow.”
“And what of Ambera’s vassals? You sent a lot of our best people to Themiskyra. Do you meant to sacrifice them?”
“That would be a waste of resources. The Alchemy Tower won’t risk provoking Ambera again. They’ll board the ship and search it, then let them go when they find Storgen is not aboard. So long as your people don’t resist, they will be protected by treaty.”
Ophira raised a suspicious eyebrow. “And our goddess authorized all of this?”
“I am following her direct orders, as I always do. Have you managed to track down the human?”
Ophira shook her head. “We scoured the Eternal Gate, but it remains closed.”
“You set a guard?”
“Yes, but I don’t understand. Why would he steal the key and then not use it? Logically he would have gone straight to the underworld.”
“Clearly that was not his plan.”
“Then what is his plan?”
Erolina sighed. “If I knew that, we would have caught him already. Return to the Acropolis to oversee the repairs.”
Ophira walked away, leaving Erolina alone on the docks.
Erolina placed her hand over her chest. The bloodlust coming from behind her was almost overwhelming. She whipped out her scythe and held it at guard, crimson electricity crackling along the curved blade.
“I know you’re there. Come out and show yourself.”
Her ruby eyes remained fixed on a stone light post. When no one emerged, slashed her weapon, releasing a blade of energy that slashed clean through. The stone split in half and came tumbling down.
A heartbeat later, a man with angelic features and short curly blonde hair stepped out from behind the
rubble and gave a regal bow.
“I knew it!” she spat, twisting the haft and bathing her weapon in white-hot lightning. “So, you’re calling yourself Krýo now?”
He picked up the candle from the fallen post and watched in melt at his touch. “The years have been kind to you, Erolina.”
“Do not call me that! That privilege is no longer yours.”
He shook the wax off of his fingers and put his white glove back on. “Very well, Scythe of Ambera.”
He looked at her with kind eyes. “It should please you to learn that Apollonia is progressing nicely in her training. She is due to take her first trail of blood very soon.”
“Do not speak her name!”
She fired a bolt of lightning at him, tearing apart the docks and reefs around him, but he was too quick. Lord Krýo became a being of pure light. He was on her in an instant, knocking her to the ground, holding her wrists as he straddled her.
“Get off of me!” she struggled.
He kicked her weapon away. “Why not throw me off? You have the strength, you could toss me across the plaza like a discus if you wanted to.”
She fought hard, but he held her fast. He unsheathed her dagger and tossed it over the side into the waters below.
“But you cannot, can you?” he concluded. “And do you know why? Because your guilt robs you of your strength. You know you broke the most sacred law of your people, and every time you look at me, it’s all you can think about.”
She tried to kick him in the groin, but he pinned her knee down with his.
“Leave me alone!” she hollered.
“But how can I leave your soul in this state? If I just walked away, leaving your spirit as filthy as it is, I would violate my duty as a gentleman. No, I am going to take away your guilt. I am going to cleanse you of your sins.”
He locked her wrists in his grip, and held out his free hand. His flesh became light, teasing up like clay, then becoming a hand once more, holding a dish with a silvery liquid inside like mercury.
Her eyes went wide when she saw it. “No…NO! I’m not like that anymore.”
He held it close so she could sense the aroma. “It’s been a long time, you must be hungry for it. Starving even.”
Her red eyes shook with fright to see it.
“Look at you, Scythe. I can see how much you crave it. You can barely hold yourself back.”
“Please, please take that away from me. I don’t want to be like that anymore.”
“But this is who you are. This is what you have always been. This is who you will always be. Why fight it?”
He brought it to her mouth. Her lips began to part of their own accord, so she threw her head to the side. He grabbed her face and squished her cheeks, pouring a few drops against her teeth.
“NO!” she screamed, spitting out the silvery liquid into his face. The taste burned through her tongue into her brain. She could feel her mind bubbling and bleeding away.
“You will always want this, Scythe. You will never be free.”
Her strength was failing, her body submitting, her will crumbling. “No, please…please don�
��t,” she whimpered.
He held it again close. She could barely breathe she wanted it so bad.
“I know you want this, your body is trembling for it.”
She forced her eyes shut, tears forming at the corners. “No.”
“I have a task for you to perform, and in return, I will take away your craving and give you peace.”
“NO!”
“And I am going to do it, because it’s the right thing to do.”
He pursed the liquid into his mouth and put his mouth over hers, kissed her deeply.
“NOOOOO!”
He forced the liquid down her throat as she struggled, a small dribble running down her cheek.
Her eyes become empty, and rolled back into her head.
* * *
Between the middle spires of the city, Storgen could faintly make out the cave entrance, a jutting of bare rock amid city sprawl, several dozen soldiers and Ailuros standing guard.
He took a moment to run the sewing needle over a candle to sterilize it, then began the monotonous work of sewing his shoulder closed. The first pass was always the worst. His hand jumped, his shoulder tightened, every involuntary response telling him to withdraw from the puncture had to be countered by his mind, willing his body to remain still and endure the pain.
He carefully pulled the thread taut, then made the next pass, pushing the needle through his skin on either side of the dagger wound. Gáta watched worriedly, letting off a concerned little mew.
Storgen patted her on the head. His wrist was hurting again, as well as the burns he had received back on Ápinso. Sometimes they hurt so bad he couldn’t sleep at night. He’d lie there in the dark without a thought in his head, just feeling, just experiencing the pain, and waiting for his body to become so exhausted that it shut down for a few hours.
The thread became taut, giving him another jolt of pain, then he ran the needle through again. It was becoming harder now, his fingers slick with blood.
Even in sleep, the pain didn’t go away. It would hover over him, like the sword of Damocles, just waiting for the dawn to come. Sometimes he’d stop noticing it for a while, but it was still there, draining his energy and making him feel queasy. Sometimes he forgot what it was like to not ache.
Ambrosia Page 52
