“It is rare for one of the siren race make such a request. Your people have great power.”
“What is power compared to service?” Agaprei responded sincerely. “I only wish surrender that which already belongs to him.”
“Well said, young one,” The Bride praised. “My master has made it a point to grant the desires of the beastmen who wish to serve him, as he is kind and wise…”
She covered her mouth with her sleeve and coughed. “…and to fulfill his five hundred hours of mandated community service.”
“What was that last part?”
“Ahem. Please, come with me.”
Agaprei could barely hold a thought in her head or keep from skipping as she followed the Bride of Natatheus across the auburn hills outside the karameikos. The sanctuary doors that stood before her were tall and wide, worked from the finest alabaster marble and adorned with golden trim and grand copper statues of the saints.
The Bride turned to her, her face noble and regal. “You will now enter the Sanctuary of Agatha, wherein lies the Oracle of His Truth. This is your Rite of Acceptance. When you emerge, you will be a legal adult in the Nation of Agadis, and a member of the order.”
“Till he take me,” Agaprei chanted.
“Do you abdicate your inheritance?”
“His glory is my inheritance.”
“What is your fear?”
“To die, my work incomplete.”
“What is your joy?”
“To serve every second.”
“What is your reward?”
“Beauty and joy.”
Bride of Natatheus nodded approvingly and the doors opened slowly, revealing a room as bright as the noonday sun. A perfectly flat wall of water fell directly before Agaprei, acting as a mirror.
“What do you see?”
Agaprei looked at her reflection. “I see Natatheus’ handmaiden.”
“One more thing,” the Bride mentioned. “You will have one minute to speak to the god directly. Ask him whatever you wish, but understand that what you see and hear when you hold the Oracle in your hands is for you and you alone, it is never to be shared. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Agaprei stepped through the wall of water as the doors closed behind her. The room was stunningly beautiful, with white marble double arches, glassy sheets of water slipping down in mirror-like waterfalls, sleek limestone buttresses splitting the water into smaller and smaller streams, as if the water itself was being braided. Crystals floated in the air without chain or wire, taking on the form of slowly spinning chandeliers. Reflected light danced off the water and marble, rainbows of color skimming on every surface. Dominating the far end, before a pool of water was a massive stained glass window depicting Natatheus in his golden armor, sword aloft, with Saint Agatha at his side. Alone amongst the pantheon, Natatheus had taken a mortal to wife.
It filled Agaprei with joy to behold it all. If any god would accept her, it would be him.
She removed her long medical coat, and replaced it with the awaiting white garments, tying them snugly at her waist with a chain of azure prayer beads, followed by the white hood and cloak of the Order. She stepped forward into the still pond of water, creating ripples that extended out in perfect spheres to all corners of the sanctuary. The water was only an inch deep, giving the impression that she glided on top of it as she moved.
There before her, suspended perfectly in midair, was a sphere of flawless crystal. For the next hour she chanted all of Natatheus’ prayers, from the first to the hundredth, all perfectly from memory. Her body grew weary, but she refused to slow her pace or show fatigue.
When she finished, she opened her eyes and the orb began to glow. On a pedestal, a minute glass flipped itself over, grains of sand beginning to fall. Brimming with excitement, she reached out her hands, but found herself unable to touch the oracle. Some invisible force resisted her, a pressure pushing her hands away.
Her brow wrinkled in concern, and she tried again, but the force grew stronger the closer she got. She strained and groaned, but the orb remained out of reach.
“I wish to commune with the Oracle of the North,” she called out, her voice echoing though the hall as the grains of sand fell.
She braced her feet and tried again with all her strength, reaching quickly as if to outpace the resistance. With a painful surge, her arms were thrown back, nearly causing her to fall.
“Why?” she asked aloud. “Why am I denied communion?”
Silence was her only response. Silence, and the passing of sand through the minute glass.
She ran up to the oracle and reached out again, and was thrown back with even greater force, splashing to the floor on her side. She held her shoulder in pain as she rose. It felt as if she had been kicked by a mule.
“What does this mean?” she asked to the silence around her. She could feel her eyes begin to tear. “I recited every prayer, I have learned every scripture. I offer to you my service and loyalty. All I ask in return is your love.”
She ran towards the oracle and was thrown back with even greater force, tumbling in a painful backwards somersault through the water. Her tears were flowing freely now as she stood up, blood dripping down her arm from a cut on her shoulder.
“Why won’t you accept me?” she screamed. “In what have I failed you?”
She turned around, listening for an answer, desperate for an answer. Her blood dripped into the water, staining its clarity.
This time, she ran towards the oracle, splashing water all around her and nearly tripping over her cloak. She leapt at the crystal sphere with all her might, and was throw back with such force that it threw her back across the entire hall, slamming her against the doors at the far end.
Agaprei fought to rise, but her ears were ringing and her vision was blurring.
Why?
Her side stabbed with pain, and her temple throbbed. When she tried to get her feet underneath her, the pain was so sharp that she fell back down, coughing up dribbles of blood.
What did I do?
But the physical pain was nothing compared to the pain she felt in her heart. The world wobbling around her, she reached out with a bloodied hand towards the oracle.
Why won’t you love me?
The final grains passed through the minute glass, and the orb went dark and settled back down onto its pedestal. The water in the room ceased to flow, and all went dark.
In the Sanctuary of Agatha, on her nineteenth birthday, during her Rite of Acceptance, Agaprei Aria Sonata wept bitterly on the floor.
(Present Day)
Fovos the Undying was an Elder God, one of only three remaining in the cosmos, and Agaprei Sonata was his champion, the only mortal allowed to approach him directly.
Agaprei bent down on one knee before his dark bubbling form. “Great Fovos, how may I serve thee?”
“Knives, I’m sure you’ve heard by now,” he gurgled.
“It would be hard not to, my Lord. The rumors are everywhere. Some say the Alchemy Tower exploded, others say the clockwork of the cosmos has broken down, still others say the day of Katálixi draws near, and some yet still say a Fate has perished, and what we saw was her death knell.”
“What do you say happened yesterday?”
“I do not have sufficient information to form a conclusion.”
His black body boiled. “Is that the most honest answer you can give?”
She sighed and lowered her eyes farther. “My mind has been too preoccupied with other things to give it much thought.”
“Good. An honest answer at last. Your thoughts dwell on the reincarnation of Tharros.”
“…Yes.”
“You must be mindful. Your feelings for him led you to ruin in your last life, and they will do so again in this one if you are not careful.”
She tugged on a lock of her lavender hair. “I know that.”
“And what is your decision?”
She straightened herself, looking
out with steadfast amber eyes. “My goal remains unchanged. I want to earn the love of the gods. I seek redemption.”
“Good. That answer is pleasing to me. I feel like I can trust you now.”
“Whatever we were to one another before, in this life I am your servant. You can always trust me.”
He bubbled happily. “I see that now.”
He lifted up his hand, and black energies coalesced in the air before her, becoming a raven bracelet. “Knives, your probationary period is over. I hereby accept you as my champion.”
“Till death or dismissal,” she said, slipping the bracelet around her wrist.
He waved a dripping skeletal hand, and the floor reformed into a model of the ruined tower, smoke and fires billowing from the remains. “Master Kynigó has completed the work begun by Skotádi. He has managed to create a Rávdos, a concentrated ingot distilled and forged from thousands of gallons of Storgen’s cursed blood over centuries.”
Her amber eyes went wide. “Storgen gave them the blood they needed to help me…”
“This Rávdos is extremely dangerous. Just the birthing cries of its awakening was enough to kill the celestial tree housed in the upper spires of the Tower, causing the explosion.”
“But how can you know of all of this so soon?”
“I am the Lord of the Underworld. When the Tower exploded, it took many lives, souls now in my care that were willing to trade valuable information for certain amenities during their incarceration.”
“I suppose that is a very effective information network.”
“You’d be amazed what a parched man will do for a cup of water.”
“So, what does this ingot do?”
“It nullifies magic, all magic. Even the power of the gods is nothing before it.”
“How can that be?”
“The curse in Storgen’s blood is the last of the old magic wielded before Heaven’s Breaking. What the gods possess now is an infinitely inferior copy, so you can imagine how dangerous this thing is. The moment its existence becomes known, every power on earth will be after it. Whichever side claims it could wield an unbeatable advantage during the war.”
“But, what can we do?”
“Somewhere in the ruins of the Alchemy Tower is the Rávdos. We must keep it from falling into the wrong hands. I am sending you to retrieve it.”
Agaprei felt her skin grow cold. “But, everyone will be after it. How can I possibly…?”
“You have a distinct advantage. A guide who can lead you through the labyrinth, the only man ever to escape the Alchemy Tower.”
“Storgen?”
“The completion of the stone is partially his fault, and by extension your fault, so it is only fitting that he lead you to it.”
“My Lord, Storgen may know the way, but he is terrified of that place, beyond terrified. He would never agree to going back there.”
“He will go, if he is asked by the woman he loves.”
“But I already rejected him.”
“So give him another chance. Lie to him, manipulate him, bend him to your will.”
“I don’t think I can do that to him. He’s crude and slobbish, obsessive and creepy, but he has never been anything but ardent towards me. It would be wrong to…”
“Of course you can do it. You’re a woman, seducing a man who has something you want should be second nature to you.”
She took a step back. “What are you asking of me?”
He plucked up an urn and threw it to her. Decorated around the neck, was the story of Estia and Tharros being banished from the gods, falling down to the earth as mortals.
“My Knives, the question you should be asking is what am I offering you? I am offering you what you want more than anything in the whole world. The curse in your blood is of the same potency as Storgen’s is. The old magic needed to remove your curse no longer exists anywhere in any realm, except in that stone. Bring it to me, and I will use it to remove your curse. You will be forgiven of all of your sins, and you will finally have the love of the gods.”
She looked at the urn and touched the painting of Estia, tears forming in her eyes.
“All right. I’ll do it.”
* * *
The Lord of Waters, Sirend, stood proudly on the bow of the finished ship, admiring his weapon. Alchemic gun emplacements lined the flanks, pointing upwards with barbed, glowing barrels, so many that it gave the impression of a porcupine. The largest guns dominated the prow, mighty horizontal columns of steel and brass, green veins pulsating along their hungering shafts.
The doors of the dry dock fell open and Ekdíkisi tou Sirend slipped into the sea. It didn’t nimbly float like smaller vessels, instead, it split the waters, beating them into submission and forcing them to bear it up. Teams of slaves were made to applaud and cheer. Many of the noble families present looked at one another ominously, unwilling to voice their apprehension openly.
The deep thromb of the alchemic furnaces began to churn, and the mighty war vessel steamed out from its secret forge and into the bay, the waters growing dark around it as hundreds of smaller warships gathered in formation.
“What course shall we set, my lord?” the Forgemaster asked with clicking mandibles.
Sirend gave a self-satisfied smile, like a shark anticipating a meal.
“Set course for Agadis.”
* * *
Agaprei lay sprawled on her bed as she snored, her lavender hair a tangled mess, a bit of bedsheet stuck to her cheek where her drool had dried. As the first rays of the sun began to warm the room, a stick poked her in the cheek.
“Mhmmm.”
It poked her again, harder this time.
“Mhmmhmmm! Schtop it.”
When the stick poked her a third time, her body sat upright in start, a flash of sharpened obsidian catching a ray of sunlight.
She yawned and opened her eyes sleepily, finding Storgen and Kaia standing over her. The stick in Storgen’s hand fell apart into a dozen slices.
“Whoa,” he said, dropping the nub in his hand.
“Told you,” Kaia affirmed. “Always wake her up from a distance.”
Agaprei sleepily looked down at her hands, and realized she had drawn her daggers. “Did I do that?”
A party horn blared in her face, and a few handfuls of confetti were scattered atop her.
“Surprise!” Storgen and Kaia called out.
“What is all this about?” she asked, trying to wake up.
“It’s a birthday party, dummy.”
She glanced over at her desk covered with paperwork. “Is it…is it the eighteenth already?”
“Sure is, you’re twenty-two sis, almost an old maid.”
Agaprei spit a strand of hair out of her face and pulled the stuck corner of bedsheet off of her cheek. “I’m not an old maid.”
Storgen pulled out a birthday cake. While the cake itself was lopsided and sunken, the frosting applied to it was beyond impressive, sculpted into a magnificent waterfall. The colors were expertly applied, the contrast and proportions flawless, it was more like a painting than a comestible.
Agaprei’s eyes lit up when she saw it. “Is that the Vyssiní waterfall from Eptá Astéron island?”
“It sure is,” Storgen said. “I did the frosting myself.”
“And I made the cake,” Kaia said proudly.
“I can tell.”
Agaprei got really excited when Storgen served her a slice, clapping her hands together as she was served breakfast in bed. She took a bite and savored the taste, thanking them both. Then the memory of the night before came back to her, and her mood became sullen.
~
Agaprei came out into the courtyard, washed and dressed for the day. Waiting for her was an immaculate carriage of cherry hardwood. The silver buildings were shaped like sprays of water, the rich paneling carved like great waterfalls. Two great, armored land dragons were harnessed to the front, snorting happily as they ate from the feed bags strapped to their faces.
>
Storgen and Kaia took up position on either side of the door and gave an overly dramatic bow. “Hail noble, snow noble, sleet noble, rain noble, your chariot awaits.”
“What is this?”
They opened the doors, revealing a lavish interior of velvet and satin. “It’s the newest invention, they call it a carriage.”
“Ha ha, I mean how did you get it? You’re a homeless vagrant.”
“I prefer adventurer.”
“You didn’t steal this, did you?”
“No. I called in a favor, we’ve got a whole day-long celebration planned out for you.”
Seeing him smile so excitedly made her feel even worse. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I did it anyway.”
She glanced back inside, wishing she could return to her desk. “I have a lot of work to do.”
“I already cleared your calendar,” Kaia said proudly.
“How?”
“I told everyone you were sick.”
“With what?”
“Mouth goblins.”
“Kaia!”
“I’m just kidding.”
“Good.”
“I didn’t tell them, I just left a note instead.”
“Grrrr.”
Storgen stepped up and held out his hand. He looked so handsome dressed up as he was, his citizen robes normally worn by wiry aristocrats drew attention to his ridiculously broad shoulders and taut, muscular arms. She could feel her face flush just looking at him.
“Come on, Ms. Sonata, this is your birthday. You should have fun.”
“All right,” she relented. “I’ll go on a date with you.”
“This isn’t a date, it’s a birthday celebration.”
“Stop it, it’s totally a date.”
“It totally is,” he admitted.
“But in return, I want you to do something for me when we’re done.”
“Indubitably.”
“I mean it, no backing out.”
“Consider it your birthday wish.”
“Shake on it.”
They clasped forearms arms in the warrior’s grip, and she managed to push aside her anxiety for a bit.
“All right, so where is our first stop?”
Ambrosia Page 71
