“Yeah…pretty immature, huh?”
He stood up and clapped her warmly on the shoulders. “But not you, no, you believed in yourself, you believed in me. You showed faith in my destiny, real faith, and you found a way to make it work. You’ve met every tithe quota and then some. Why, your last shipment was even two weeks early.”
“Well, you know…I live to serve, and all that.”
He pointed a jovial finger at her. “Ah, now don’t be so modest. You’ve developed a secret weapon.”
“I have?”
“Of course you have. Haven’t you figured out yet, my ears are always listening? You can’t keep secrets from me. Word has reached me that you’ve developed a new kind of human, a weaponized human, capable of beating even a fully-armed champion. So tell me, how did you do it?”
She could only stare at him in terror. “Um…”
He nodded knowingly. “Ah, I see, you know Agadis has ears too. That’s wise of you. Cautious. The fewer people know, the less chance our enemies will discover our advantage.”
“Heh, heh, you know me.”
He waved his hand and the room became transparent, and their view raced across the seas to the west. “You have made a mockery of nearly every one of Reinala’s lackeys. Thanks to you, I can accelerate my plans.”
“Oh boy.”
“I’m glad you’re excited. I have plans for all the ambrosia you have helped me collect. Here, beneath the Indigo sea, is the capitol of the Hippocampi. From there, we will launch our assault on Reinala’s temple. A thousand clockwork warships filled with our best troops. I will create a tidal wave, swelling the rivers and streams, and our forces will be free to sail directly into the capital city itself!”
The image centered on a walled port city in the western delta. “The key is the fortress of Froúrio. Its ancient system of locks are made from the old magic. They might just be strong enough to hold back my waters, even in the midst of a miracle. It will be up to you to take it. With Froúrio under our control, we can open the locks and sail our fleet directly up the river to victory, bypassing their entire defense cordon.”
Ambera stepped closer and looked at the fortified city. “You want me…to challenge Lichas for control of the city?”
“Want you to challenge? It’s already done.”
She snapped around. “It’s what?”
“I issued the challenge on your behalf just an hour ago. Your new champion will crush his dragon, and open the door to our final victory over Reinala’s pathetic little empire.”
Ambera turned away from him to look at the city. “My…new champion, huh? I guess I’d better get him all cleaned up.”
He shifted his weight. “You do know where your champion is, don’t you?”
She stood there, beads of sweat rolling down her face.
* * *
Erolina had trouble swimming, the cramping in her muscles was slowing her pace, the gnawing in her gut was bending her spine. It felt like an animal was chewing on her flesh, and there was only one thing that would make it stop.
“Can we hurry up already?” she complained. “I’m thirsty.”
“We’re here.”
Storgen came to a stop before a floating mountain of bars, as if a million million cages had been smashed together. It was like looking into a thick forest, countless glowing bars gradually obscuring the contents within.
“What is this?” Philiastra wondered.
Deep within, something stirred.
Storgen leaned the Kleidí Ailuros on his shoulder. “This is the cage where Warestus the Tracker is imprisoned.”
Philiastra’s mouth dropped open. “Is that why you did all this?”
“Pops can never return home until the curse on him is lifted, and only Warestus can do that.”
Erolina was furious. “Is that what this is about? All this scheming, all this planning, all this deception, just to remove a curse? Why would you do that?”
Storgen’s eyes lowered sadly. “My curse can never be removed, but at least I can help others remove theirs.”
As Storgen swam closer, the god within strained against the bars, his face visible only through slivers and cracks.
“Hey Warri, how’s it going?”
Warestus was ruddy in complexion, with hair and beard of bronze. His eyes flickered like glowing coals. When he spoke, it was like a stampede of hooves. “What is a mortal doing down here?”
“The Great and Powerful Ambera has instituted an early release program for good behavior. I am Storgen, I will be your parole officer.”
“So, that snake owns the gateway to the underworld now.”
“Hey, I’m also her champion. If you are going to insult her, at least let me join in.”
Philiastra chuckled. Erolina rolled her eyes.
The God looked at Storgen oddly. “Have we met before?”
“No, but you have met my old man here. You remember Pops Kotter?”
Warestus bobbed his head to find an angle to view Pops through the bars. “I do not remember him, no. All you humans look the same to me.” He held out his ruddy hand. “But my curse is indeed upon him.”
Storgen spun the key in his grip. “So, in order for me to grant your parole, I need to witness you enacting some good behavior. Obviously that’s a problem since you are all alone in here and the underworld doesn’t exactly have like a work program. If you could pick up the trash on the side of the roads or something I could at least give you some good marks for that, but, you know, no roads down here.”
“Do all mortals speak as much as you do?”
“Only the entertaining ones. But, luckily I have brought some people with me, which gives you a chance to get off the naughty list. If you were to, say, I dunno, remove your curse from this kindly and honorable senior citizen…”
“We’re talking about Pops, right?” Philiastra interjected.
“…ahem, then that would give me the evidence I need to set your parole into motion.”
“You dare offer a bargain to a god?”
“No, you misunderstand, I am trying to help you out here.”
“Don’t coil your words with me, human. Your tone and posture are beyond insolent. Mortals do not give terms to gods, we give terms to mortals. Your bargain is an insult to my pride.”
“I see. Well, enjoy your pride. I must continue with my duties. Come on guys.”
Storgen grabbed Pops by the hand and began to swim away.
“Where are you going?” Warestus asked.
“You think I don’t have anything else to do? Don’t worry, I’ll instruct my descendants to come in and check on you in a few hundred years. Say hello to my great-great-grandson, will ya?”
“Wait!”
Storgen stopped.
Warestus sneered with his bronze teeth. “I will set your father free.”
Storgen turned around with a big stupid grin on his face. “Really? That is so kind and altruistic of you. Really, you are as noble and magnanimous as they say.”
“Watch your tongue, human!”
“Yeah, you’re right, that was pushing it. I deserved that. You will also return all of us to Pop’s homeland on Mikrí Póli. And you will free Pops from your service, and title his family’s lands to him, for all time.”
“No god has ever turned over lands to a human.”
“Until now.”
The angry god gripped his bars tightly, the otherworldly metal creaking under the strain. “I will have your head for this.”
“…AND you will swear to never take revenge on either me or Pops for any of this, either directly or indirectly.”
Philiastra smacked him on the back of the head. “Ow, what?”
She put her hands out. “And us?”
“Oh, yeah, and them too.”
Erolina scoffed. “Thanks”
“And I want you to bring Mikródéntro with us safely,” Philiastra added in.
They all turned to her. “Who’s Mikródéntro?”
�
�My tree. She’s back at the hotel, I can’t leave her behind.”
“Enough with the trivial requests!” Warestus raged.
“You named your tree ‘little tree?’” Storgen snickered.
“She’s my tree I can name her whatever I want!”
Warestus looked over at Erolina. “What about you, amazon? Do you have something to add to this?”
“Well, actually…”
“SILENCE! I was being acerbic, you fools! I will agree to no more!”
Storgen reached into his shirt and pulled out a magical contract. “I suppose that concludes negotiations.”
“Where did you get that?” Philiastra asked.
“Ambera’s throne.”
Warestus growled. “You expect me to sign a contract written by a human?”
“You don’t seriously think we’d just take you at your word, do you?”
Storgen looked over at Erolina and gave her a wink. “Always get it in writing, right?”
“Shut up, Storgen.”
Storgen made the correction and slipped it through the cracks in the bars. Warestus looked it over contemptuously. “Is this written in children’s chalk?”
“I didn’t have a quill handy.”
“And there’s a chocolate stain on it.”
“Think of it as my seal.”
Warestus looked up at him with new regard. “Who are you?”
“Just a humble painter, sir.”
Warestus signed the contract with a glowing finger and affixed his seal, and it flashed to life, dividing itself into two identical copies, the second landing in Pops’ waiting hands.
“It’s been nice doing business with you,” Storgen said as he slammed the key into the lock. As he backed away, the hairline etchings all burning to life and spreading out, tracing along the surfaces of the prison. The bars began shaking, the magic that maintained their form breaking down.
Pops swam forward and turned the key, and the prison blew apart, magical shards flying out into the mists, passing through Storgen and the others without doing them harm.
Warestus’ body unfolded and he rose up around them like a giant, his voice shaking the void.
“I…am…free!”
Clasping his hands together, Warestus gathered up his might, and a silver flask was summoned into his grip. He unstopped the cap and drank down a few drops of golden ambrosia, and his veins flashed bright red. The mists of the void buckled and bent before him, and then he fired two crimson beams from his eyes, punching through and tearing a hole in the void, a whirling portal with blinding light spilling out from beyond.
Storgen clapped Pops on the shoulder. “All right, let’s get out of here.”
Erolina looked at the key at it floated there, sitting in the remains of the lock. “You’re just going to leave the Kleidí Ailuros?”
Storgen looked back as he swam. “I don’t need it any more. Take it, leave it, I don’t care.”
Pops and Philiastra moved through the portal, followed by Warestus.
Storgen paused. “You coming?”
Erolina stared at the key, licking her dry lips. “Go ahead, I’ll catch up.”
“All right.”
Storgen swam through the portal and vanished, leaving Erolina alone.
Chapter Twenty Two
Krasi loves the drunkard and the boastful, the lazy and the spiteful. He is one of the only gods with temples both in the glorious foul empire of Erotan, and the loathsome immaculate nation of Agadis, as they predate both by many centuries. Krasi was the first to leave the heavens and live in the world below, where he quickly mastered the use of plants and herbs. He is an expert in toxins and poisons, and all things which dull the senses. Whereas humans were intelligent, he aimed to dull their wits to that of mere beasts. (Humans which live in Agadis, however, are possessed of superior intelligence as they worship the true Godmother Reinala) Whereas humans possessed self-control, his design was to rob them of their mastery and enslave them to vices. (Humans which live in Agadis are possessed of superior self-control, as they worship the one true pantheon). When the first humans awoke, he taught them how to make vineyards and distilleries, and thus the curse blessing of alcohol was slowly spread until it touched every human in the world to this day.*
*Editor’s note: Sections of this entry are under legal contestation, as identical wording occurs in similar, albeit inferior publications, in the foul Empire of Erotan. Agatinla Publishing and its editorial staff affirm their stance that plagiarism cannot occur when the original source material originates in Erotan, an empire not legally recognized by the Nation of Agadis. So those guys from Erotinu Publishing can just go suck eggs.
- The Powers of the World, a Pocket Guide to the One True Pantheon. Published in Agadis 391 H.B. to present
Storgen lay impatiently beneath the shade of a giant mushroom while the waves lapped at the shores of Mikrí Póli.
Philiastra practiced her magic, coaxing Mikródéntro to step out of her pot and bury her roots into the dank rich soil. The little tree shimmered happily, growing taller than she had ever been before, nearly twice the height of a man.
“What could be taking Erolina so long?” Storgen fretted. “It’s been almost an hour.”
Pops stood quietly as Warestus removed the curse, black billows of smoke pouring out of his ears and nose and being absorbed into the god’s awaiting hand.
“Who cares where she is?” Philiastra said, lowering her hand and breathing heavily. “I mean, it’s not like you asked her to come along or anything.”
“Forgive me if the thought of her being lost or trapped in the underworld seems slightly unsavory to me.”
Mikródéntro glimmered.
“She’s right,” Philiastra affirmed. “Erolina has been acting strangely ever since the party. Wherever she is, it’s because she wants to be there.”
Storgen sat up and shielded his eyes from the cool morning sun. “We should go back and get her.”
“The portal only goes one way,” Warestus explained as he worked his magic.
“Well, then make another.”
“Your return to the underworld was not part of our negotiations, nor was it part of our agreement, so you can curl up and die for all I care. Besides, it wouldn’t make any difference, I can sense your companion has already left the underworld.”
“Already left? How?”
“Probably the same way we went in,” Philiastra opined.
Storgen stood up and dusted himself off, looking back at the portal they had traveled through. “What is she thinking?”
“Who cares? Good riddance to her.”
The last of the black smoke was drawn from Pops. He stood up a little straighter, his eyes a little brighter, his breathing a little clearer.
“How do you feel, Pops?” Storgen asked.
“Better…”
He looked back into the cluster of giant mushrooms surrounding the road that lead inland. “…and worse.”
Warestus flew away without a word or a backwards glance. They watched as his portal slowly faded away into nothingness.
“Never thought I’d have a chance to be ferried around by a god,” Storgen commented. “Makes me wish I kept a diary so I could write this down.”
Pops took out his six remaining heroines and held them tightly as he looked down the road with apprehension.
“Come on,” Storgen said, patting him on the shoulder. “This is what we’ve been waiting for.”
Pops swallowed hard, and forced his feet to move. Step by step, they walked beneath the giant mushrooms, the beach growing small behind them.
Philiastra gave a quick wave to Mikródéntro, who waved a branch back, and ran to catch up with them. Pops and Storgen looked up at the mushrooms with anxiety. Pops flinched at every noise, took caution at every shadow.
“Relax, you two. Mushrooms don’t count as forest. You’re fine here.”
“Yeah, but there was a true forest beyond my village,” Pops explained. “I’m worr
ied that it may have overgrown since I was last here.”
“Well, the locals should have prevented that from happening, right?”
“Right,” Pops said nervously.
Philiastra put her hand over her stomach. “I wanna eat something sweet.”
Pops looked up at Storgen. “You should get her some chocolate.”
“What day is it?”
“Moon’s Day the fifth.”
Pops took out a worn little book and flipped through the pages. “Yes, definitely, it's about that time anyway.”
Philiastra furrowed her brow. “What do you mean ‘it's about that time?’”
“That time of the month.”
She blinked. “Are you serious?”
Pops tapped his notes. “You aren’t due for another two days, but you have been known to start early.”
“You keep track of my cycles?!”
“Of course I do.”
She reached out and tore the book from him. “That is so messed up. How far back does this go?”
“Since I met you.”
“Why do you do this?”
“I track the cycles of all the women I meet.”
She closed the book and tore it in half.
“Hey! What are you doing? That’s mine.”
“Don't track my cycles, old man. That's uber creepy.”
She tore it up a second time and a third.
“But then how will I know when you need chocolate?”
She threw the shreds in his face. “It’s none of your business. Okay? My bodily functions are private, they have nothing to do with you.”
“When everyone else has to deal with your violent mood swings, it becomes their business.”
She shoved him back. “Shut up, Pops!”
He steadied his figurines. “Careful! You can’t get Apothica dirty. If she gets dirty, her healing powers are diminished.”
“By Desmas’ Holy Scepter, I am so sick and tired of hearing about your stupid dolls!”
Ambrosia Page 56
