“I’ve never heard of an Elder God issuing a challenge.”
“Yes, but what concerns me most is that Ambera will be fighting on his behalf.”
Her mouth fell open. “The one with the demon champion?”
“The same.”
“What are you going to do?”
“My child, be mindful of your words. The correct phrase is, ‘what are we going to do?’ We are currently removing everything of value from Froúrio. If Sirend is to have it, I mean to minimize my losses.”
She bowed deeper. “I am sorry for misspeaking.”
“If you feel sorrow for your mistake, then you can demonstrate it by granting me a favor.”
“A favor? What need have you to ask, everything I control already belongs to you?”
“Well spoken, child, and it is true, with one exception. There is one thing you truly own. The champion that bears your name.”
“Agaprei Sonata?”
Lichas nodded. “If what they say is true, Ambera’s champion can kill even a mortal protected by ambrosia.”
“Impossible.”
“Surely you’ve heard about the demi-god he murdered.”
She covered her mouth. “So, it’s true?”
He nodded. “My new rider can be replaced, but his mount cannot. I have spent many long centuries breeding my dragons to their current size. Crossing land dragons with air and sea, selecting the best from a dozen flights, each generation coming a step closer to my goal. It has been a long and arduous endeavor. Reinala has asked that my champion’s mount pull her personal chariot during the invasion. It is a distinction beyond compare, and I have no intention of watching my prized dragon get killed by whatever abomination Ambera has created.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“You are not required to understand, only to obey. You will give me your siren, and she will be my champion for the match.”
“But, you already have a champion.”
“Ambera has two champions, therefore, so can I.”
“But she’ll be killed.”
He raised a billowy eyebrow. “Since when does that concern you? As I recall, you didn’t even want to take on a champion. You practically lost your mind over it.”
“I didn’t but…”
She looked away. “…I’ve come to appreciate her. She’s done so much for me. She’s worked so hard.”
He took another long draw, the smoke mixing in with the smoke of his body. “My child, your champion exists to serve you, and what better way to show her devotion than with her own life?”
Mónos looked up. “But…”
“My child, this is a request you cannot refuse. That was our agreement.”
Her brand began to burn and she looked down sadly. “Of course, my Godfather.”
Lichas nodded approvingly. “My people are already on the way to pick her up.”
The image flickered and burnt away, leaving only a whisp of smoke behind. Mónos stood up, leaving her breakfast uneaten as she walked the polished corridors, a hazy glazed look in her eyes. Everywhere her cats played with the toys that lined the walls. Many of them ran up and nuzzled up to her legs, but she felt no comfort from it.
Mónos found Agaprei and Kaia in a storage room, carving and sanding a large block of moonwood.
“There you are.”
Agaprei took a knee. “My Godmother.”
“Hey,” Kaia greeted, waving with one hand.
Mónos grabbed her elbow sheepishly. “Is this the, ah, moonwood the ailuros gave me?”
“Yes,” Agaprei answered excitedly. “We are carving it to become the base of their shrine in the Flamouriá lowlands. See?”
She turned it around, revealing the beautiful waterfall crest she had carved.
“It’s…beautiful. Everything you’ve done for me has been…”
She had to bite her lip. “I must release you from my service.”
“What?!” Agaprei and Kaia blurted out in unison.
“I’m sorry.”
Agaprei was uncharacteristically dumbstruck. “My…my goddess, have I done anything to displease you?”
“No.”
“Has my performance been lacking in any way?”
“No, you have been an excellent champion to me. Better than I could have ever imagined, in fact. It’s been a long time since I felt like I lived in a home.”
Agaprei took a step back. “Then…why? Why am I not worthy of your love?”
Mónos couldn’t bear to look at her. “My godfather Lichas has asked that you be champion to him instead, and I cannot refuse his offer.”
Agaprei’s face lit up so brightly she nearly shouted for joy. “Really?”
“His people will be here any moment to claim you.”
Agaprei turned to Kaia, nearly jumping out of her skin. “Did you hear that?”
“It’s what you’ve always wanted, sis!”
“The plan is totally working. And ahead of schedule, too!”
“I can’t believe it!”
The two sisters hugged each other, jumping up and down and cheering. It was all Mónos could do to keep from running away in shame.
Agaprei noticed her godmother and tried to regain some of her composure. “Oh, forgive me, I didn’t mean to show any disrespect. My first loyalty of course is to….”
Mónos shook her head. “No, I should be apologizing to you. You’ve worked so hard for me, and I never even saved up the ambrosia to make you a divine weapon to wield. I could have, I had enough, I just never got around to it.”
Agaprei sighed in relief. “Oh good, I thought I had insulted you just then. No, don’t worry about that, anyway. Even if you had made a divine weapon, I wouldn’t have been able to use it.”
Mónos was flummoxed. “What did you say?”
Kaia hugged her sister again. “Magical gifts, she can’t use them, never could.”
Mónos took a step back, nearly tripping over a cat. “Are you serious?”
“She can’t cast siren spells either.”
Mónos covered her mouth with her hands. “But, that would mean you’re…”
“What’s wrong?” Agaprei asked.
Mónos shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry about what?”
The beautiful ring of silver trumpets rang out at the front entrance to the temple.
Mónos turned and fled in tears.
“I am so very sorry!”
* * *
Philiastra couldn’t help but feel cold as she walked amid the trees. She had always felt there was something wrong with her. Something broken that made her repulsive to others. She tried to ignore it, tried to suppress it, but at times like this it rose to the surface and she realized it was just as strong as it always was.
“For the third time in my life, I am discarded. What’s so wrong with me?”
The forest canopy was so thick, she couldn’t tell if it was night or day anymore. The only light came from the deep blue glow of the foxfire mushrooms growing everywhere, bathing this place in an eternal twilight. The air was thick with memory, timeless, like music frozen in place. The thick brush kept out all wind, the air so perfectly still that pollen collected on everything like the most delicate fallen snow, falling free into gently descending trails of dust as she passed.
She wished she had never admitted to Storgen how she felt. There was a reason why women instinctively knew to wait for the man to show affection. She felt exposed, spiritually naked and vulnerable. Her heart stung as if from acrid winds that blew icy chills over her body, and she pulled her arms inside of her coveralls to warm herself.
She knew it wouldn’t accomplish anything, this was not a physical chill, but she did it anyway.
And yet, no matter how much she kicked and berated herself for speaking up, there was a part of her that was glad she had. It had taken all of her bravery to admit how she felt, and there was a certain pride she felt for rising to the task, for not hiding away as she always had
in the past, even if it meant her love being unrequited for now.
The trees were so quiet here. Not a salacious whisper or a judgmental grumble came from them. It was as refreshing as it was odd. She coaxed her arm bracelet to life and placed a hand against the bark of a nearby tree.
She felt nothing. The tree’s mind was in a deep slumber, something she had never encountered before. She had known trees to be weary or disinterested, but never completely unconscious like this. Risking a little more power, her hand erupted in cool blue flame, and she opened her mind to the tree.
Another one? There’s another one…
“Wait, what do you mean another one? Are you talking about me?”
Almost as soon as it awoke, the tree returned to its slumber. She had to pull her hand away. This sleep felt unnatural. The tree felt drugged somehow. She tried to wake it again, but whatever force bade it sleep pushed back twice as strong.
For just a brief moment, she felt a push of force, a trace of power coming from deep within the forest. She recognized it immediately. It was magic like hers, only subtler, more nuanced, more refined.
“No way, did you feel that too, Odelia?”
Her magical armband sparkled in the affirmative.
Philiastra took off running in the direction she had felt. To the untrained eye, she was just randomly stumbling about, but to her, the path was clear. She could feel the network of connected roots beneath the ground, stimulated by the magic. They glowed in her mind like a violet trail, a shimmering pathway of spider’s gossamer amidst a vast web. The roots of these trees grew into one another when they met, the trees sharing energy, staving off disease, and bolstering up the new sproutlings.
The trail began to dim, and she took a moment to look around, realizing that she had traveled so far into the woods she could no longer see the village. She thought to attempt to wake another tree, but something more mundane caught her ear.
Music.
It was faint, so faint it barely registered, but her leaves resonated with the hum, as if responding to some long forgotten memory. A half-forgotten memory, as if in a dream, a faint sense of recognition.
“I know this song.”
She closed her eyes and turned, allowing her body to feel the source of the notes. She began walking in the direction and found it growing loud enough to make out. A beautiful melody, sad and somber, the wooden flute giving it a natural arboraceous sound, different from human instruments. An organic sound, like a choir of wood, not creaking but harmonious and beautiful.
The closer she got, the more a warm feeling began to grow in her heart. Just an ember at first, but gradually growing into a crackling hearth. She could feel the notes rising and falling like the seasons, she could feel the meaning, a language without words. It felt so right, so natural, it made every cell in her body vibrate with the feeling of it.
Without even realizing it, she ceased running along the ground and began running across the roots, the slumbering trees lifting her up, a root rising to meet each footfall. It felt like she was floating. Higher and higher up, jumping from branch to branch, moving across the canopy without ever having to judge a step or look ahead. She could have done it with her eyes closed, but she kept them open, looking ahead excitedly for the source of the music.
She barely noticed as the wrenches fell from her pigtails, her leafy hair set loose and flowing wildly in the air as she leapt and bounded like a deer through the treetops. She had never moved through a forest like this before, yet she knew how to do it. Something felt so right inside of her, something awakening that had long slumbered.
This is who she really was.
Philiastra came to a stop, the tree branches shifting to bear her up. Her heart was beating inside her chest in time to the music, her leaves vibrating with excitement. There, ahead of her, was a proper forest nymph house. Not built but grown, the branches from the surrounding trees curling around one another in a kind of cocoon suspended so far off the ground it was all but invisible unless one knew where it was.
The music stopped, and she could feel the occupant inside stir, becoming aware of her presence.
The living wood of the cocoon parted, and someone stepped out. He was completely naked, save for a woven loincloth of leaves. His skin was green like hers, the leaves of his head wrapped up like a turban. When he saw her with his deep green eyes he looked like he had seen a ghost. The pan flute fell from his hand and disappeared into the darkness of the forest far below.
His green lips moved, as if unaccustomed to speaking aloud.
“Philiastra,” he whispered. “Is that you?”
Her mouth fell open.
“Wei?”
Chapter Twenty Three
Ouránio Tóxo was the belt of Aga, a wondrous splendor created to celebrate her achievements in the creation of the world and the heavens. It contained every color, and was said to outline her original plan for every era of the world. During Megáli Giortí, the great festival at the end of creation, the god Absyrtusis slipped the belt off the sleeping fate, and brought it down to the mortal realm, where it created a bridge between the earth and the Isle of the Blessed. He crossed the bridge, and stole away the only creation the Fates had locked away, the first humans. The gods encouraged the humans to spread and multiply, and when the Fates awoke from their slumber, they cursed Absyrtusis in their wrath, stealing away a piece of his free will, and casting the bridge into mist.
Thus it became the rainbow we know today, appearing only occasionally, either at random or by some fickle will of the Fates, shifting in and out of the mists when the heaven’s weep. Any who try to move towards it, will find it ever distancing itself, ever out of reach. An eternal symbol from the Fates, a reminder that humans will never again be allowed to enter the Isle of the Blessed.
- The Book of Cerebus, Chapter 7, Verses 5-7
Nisi, Goddess of War, sat brooding in the darkness of her tent. The dim candlelight flickered over her maps and charts, highlighting the precarious nature of her circumstances. The entire northern province in Garralos was overrun. Two of her best divisions were surrounded and cut off completely. She considered using some of her ambrosia reserves to enact a miracle, but quickly dismissed the idea. Any more loss of ambrosia and she would not have enough to sustain her physical form.
The flap of the tent was peeled back, and a dusty general stepped in. His face was wrinkled and weary, but he held himself straight. Even the weight of defeat was not enough to bend his sense of duty.
“My Goddess, we have lost all contact with the thirteenth legion. Whether they have been destroyed or deserted, either way we can no longer count on their reinforcements.”
“And where is the navy? Sirend has been amassing vast numbers of warships, does he plan to sit on them while our entire front crumbles?”
“He says they are held in reserve for a special mission.”
Nisi clenched her silvery fist. “Where in the blazes did Reinala get all of these extra warriors?”
“She must have pulled every army off her border with the Phillian Confederacy. There is no other possible explanation.”
“But why would she do that? It makes no sense to leave herself completely open to attack from the Confederacy. Unless…”
Her eyes went wide. “…unless she no longer fears an attack from the Confederacy.”
The general stroked his white goatee. “An armistice?”
“It is possible.”
“Possible, but unlikely. The beastmen despise the gods.”
“But if it is true, then the situation is far more serious than the loss of our colonies in Garralos. The very future of the Empire may be at stake.”
“I’ll have my spy network look into it. In the meantime, you have an emissary.”
“An emissary?”
“From Reinala herself.”
The tent door was held open, and Lord Krýo Fidi stepped in, his kind round face lighting up the room more than the candles could.
“Here to gl
oat and ask for my surrender?” Nisi sniffed. “I would think that your Godmother would know me better than that by now.”
“I’m afraid I’m not here on errand from the Godmother,” he said, taking his white gloves off. “In fact, I am not here under any official capacity at all. I come to you only as a man.”
“Then, as a man, can you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now?”
“I can give you two. Firstly, because the final attack on your northern divisions is ready to commence. Two fresh warbands are approaching from the south. If Reinala presses now, you will be overrun completely, losing your remaining territories in Agadis, and effectively wiping you out from the pantheon.”
Nisi’s fingers grew into long silver blades. “You come here to threaten me?”
“Not at all. So long as I check in every half hour, their orders are to hold position and refuse to engage unless provoked. If they do not hear from me, however, their orders are to assume I have been killed and commence the attack.”
“Clever mortal.”
He bowed humbly. “Thank you. The second reason you should not kill me is because I am prepared to offer you an opportunity to get revenge on Ambera for humiliating you.”
Nisi’s blades became fingers again. “Go on.”
“How would you like to combine the positions of the harvest, fertility, and war into a single posting, and sit at the head of them all?”
“Impossible. Even if you weren’t a mortal, how could you do something like that?”
“There are some things I cannot discuss, but I give you my word I am in position to have Ambera completely removed from her position, and I can ensure that you will be nominated to succeed her.”
Nisi leaned forward. “And what would you want in return?”
Lord Krýo Fidi smiled warmly.
* * *
Philiastra and Wei stood there, staring at one another upon the forest canopy, both reluctant to move or speak for fear that the illusion before their eyes might evaporate. After all these years in exile, they had each found another of their kind.
Ambrosia Page 58
