by Diana Tyler
“Can you help me get all this off?” he asked, tugging on his elbow pads.
Chloe began removing his gear, piece by piece, until all that remained were his black, polycotton pants. He caught Chloe glancing at his naked chest and arms, and a burst of heat, not from the fire, filled his face. He bent down, lifted Damian up and threw him over his shoulder, his body a dead weight.
He hadn’t had time to check Damian’s vitals. He could be dead for all Ethan knew.
“Come on,” said Chloe. “They’re up there.” She covered her face with her jacket and took off running.
Ethan coughed. “Who’s up there?”
“You’ll see.”
With his legs leaden and lungs burning, he ran with Chloe for half a mile. They were so hopped up on adrenaline, neither one of them needed a break. Their survival instincts drove them on. They wouldn’t stop until they had found a way out—or dropped dead trying.
Up ahead, four shadowy figures came into view.
Chloe smiled and slowed her pace. “They’re the good guys,” she said.
“We could use some good guys,” Ethan grunted. He was suddenly aware of a massive cramp in his left trapezius and a dull ache in his lower back. Hunger, thirst, pain and exhaustion were also making their presence known. He couldn’t carry Damian much longer. “Any chance one of them is a dude?”
“Yes, two of them, actually, if you count the Centaur.” Chloe gave him a playful sideways glance, this time looking only at his eyes.
“Even better.” He adjusted his grip on Damian’s wrist and resumed his weary jog.
“Iris! Tycho!” Chloe shouted, but the roar of the flames swallowed her voice.
They pushed onward, using every bit of strength to close the gap that separated them from the others. Ethan could only hope they had domas or some other life-saving trick up their sleeves.
Just before the world started to dim and his feet refused to continue, the half-horse, half-human creature stopped and turned to face them. He gave a high-pitched whinny, alerting the other three to the sudden company, and then galloped toward them, scowling. A scabbard bound to the Centaur’s waist revealed the bronze hilt of a sword.
He definitely didn’t look like a good guy to Ethan.
“What are you doing here?” the Centaur barked. Then he looked them up and down as though he was trying to make sense of their strange attire. “Who are you?”
“I’m an Asher,” said Chloe. “Like Iris. And so is my brother.” She touched the side of Damian’s leg, hanging limply from Ethan’s torso. “He’s sick. Please…can you carry him for us?”
The Centaur gave a coarse laugh. “You’ve caught me in a merciful mood. I’m afraid there isn’t time for me to be ornery.” He turned sideways and jerked his thumb toward his back. “Throw him aboard.”
Ethan positioned Damian across the Centaur’s body as carefully as he could, trying simultaneously to keep Damian’s body stable and his own stressed knees from buckling. Insisting that Chloe ride too, he helped her up, and then sighed with relief as his muscles and joints relaxed. He smiled his thanks to the Centaur and closed his eyes, craving just a split second of rest.
The Centaur laid a heavy hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Don’t fade out now, kid. The fire’s almost over.”
Ethan opened his eyes and shook his head, willing his body to forget its appetite, discomfort and fatigue. “I won’t.”
He tried his best to appear undaunted as he looked up at the Centaur towering a good two feet above him. There was something familiar about him, something in his narrow, deep-set eyes that gave Ethan the eeriest sense of déjà vu. “I’ve seen you before.”
“Come on!” one of the women up ahead called to the Centaur. Her arms were outstretched to either side, palms erect as fire flowed out of them like gushing rapids.
Chloe stared. Was she the one creating the fire?
“Ethan, you’re worrying me,” said Chloe. “That’s impossible. There’s no way you’ve seen him before. Not unless you can time travel, too.” Then she kicked the Centaur’s flanks lightly and clicked her tongue.
The Centaur snorted and threw back his bald head. “I’m not a donkey to be spurred and goaded on!” he yelled.
“I’m sorry,” said Chloe, patting his withers. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Even in the flame-cast shadows, Ethan could see her blushing.
The Centaur hacked and spat on the ground, reared up—just enough to teach Chloe a lesson—and trotted off toward a faint circle of sunlight…the way out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ALLIES
Chloe wished there was time to assure Ethan that everything would be okay. She remembered her first experience in the tunnel and how terrified she’d been. She had been certain that she would die there, and she’d have nothing to blame but her own stupidity for eating a walnut given to her by some innocent-looking urchin in the backseat of her car.
She hadn’t known that the urchin was a messenger from Duna, or that the walnut was providing a foretaste of her doma. She’d only known that she wanted answers, and she was willing to take any risk to find them.
At this moment, all Ethan knew was that if they were lucky, his parents would soon be tried for treason, and that his own demise wasn’t far behind.
“Come on, Charis,” Chloe whispered. “Any minute now…”
As if reading her thoughts, the redheaded woman disappeared for a few short seconds. When she returned, she lifted her arms, signaling to her mother that it was safe to stop the fire.
Iris closed her hands and doubled over, her back heaving and arms shaking at her sides. Tycho ran to her and drew her into his arms. Her charred palms leaked tendrils of smoke like blood.
Gradually, the walls of fire weakened until only dark gray whorls of smoke were left. The air was humid and thick with the smell of dry dirt and burning grass.
Chloe looked back at Ethan, who was a good ways behind, moving at a snail’s pace, his eyes barely open. “Ethan, look!” she called to him.
She smiled as rain splashed onto his nose and forehead. He tilted his chin to the sky, opened his mouth, and welcomed the downpour.
The Centaur stopped abruptly. “Girlie, your ferry ride has ended.”
“Thank you, Mr. Centaur,” Chloe said, sliding off his back.
Damian’s elbow jerked. “Chloe?”
His voice was so hoarse Chloe could hardly hear him. “Are you okay, Damian?” she asked, brushing his hair off his sweaty brow. “How do you feel?”
“What’s going on?” Damian sniffed the air and grimaced. “What’s that smell?”
Chloe wondered if the sour scent of the Centaur had woken him.
The Centaur turned his head toward them and ground his teeth. “I save your atrociously adorned skins and this is the thanks I get? Childish insults?”
“Take it easy, Mr. Centaur,” said Chloe. “No need to be so sensitive about your body odor. We’ve all got it.”
The Centaur muttered under his breath and started walking again.
Damian’s eyes widened as he lurched forward, finding his balance on the Centaur’s back. “The horse is talking?”
“Shhh!” Chloe snapped, trotting alongside them. “He’s a Centaur.”
Damian’s features froze as all the color drained from his face. He braced himself on the Centaur’s withers and slowly pressed himself up. “Oh my gods…”
“What?”
Damian leaned forward, straining to get a better look at the Centaur’s face. “Katsaros?”
The Centaur ran a hand over his bald head, on which a black serpent was tattooed. “Is that some sort of joke?” He halted again. “Get off me, kid. If you’re well enough for insults and jokes, you’re well enough to walk.”
Ethan caught up with them and eased Damian off the Centaur’s back. “How are you feeling?”
“He’s about to be feeling a hoof in his spleen if he doesn’t shut his trap,” said the Centaur.
“Your name is Katsa
ros,” Damian said. “I met you. Ethan and I both did.” His eyes darted back and forth between Ethan and the Centaur, waiting for one of them to confirm this, but neither did.
“I’m afraid that whatever sickness the girl says you’ve got has turned your brain to mush.” The Centaur laughed. “Do you have any idea what ‘katsaros’ means in our language?” Damian shook his head. “Curly-haired.” The Centaur pointed to his shaven scalp. “Does it look like that description belongs to me?”
Chloe looked the Centaur up and down. His bare chest and bulging arms, though undoubtedly strong, were covered in curly chestnut hair. “It does, actually,” she said. She reached out to touch his arm, but he sidestepped away with an aggravated neighing sound. “And guess why we’re even able to understand your language.”
The Centaur made a mocking face. “You’ve stumped the odiferous Centaur. Tell me.”
“Because of Carya,” said Chloe. “She did something to our ears.”
The Centaur scratched his head, stupefied. “So that’s what that was. The little sprite paid a visit just this morning.” He tugged on his earlobe. “They’re still ringing a bit.”
“What’s going on?” came Iris’s voice.
Chloe spun around to see Tycho, Iris, and their teenage daughter Charis standing before them. Unlike the last time she had met all three of them, they didn’t look particularly pleased to see her.
“Who are you?” Tycho asked Chloe, his voice stern but not angry.
“Tycho,” said Iris softly. “Don’t you remember her? She’s from the ship that day.”
Tycho’s jaw fell as his mind registered her face. “Our friend Chloe!” He leaned forward and kissed her on both cheeks. Iris and Charis did the same.
“Yes, but I’m not alone this time.” Chloe looked around. The smoke had finally cleared enough for her to see the barren plain around them and the jagged mountains in the distance, their snowy peaks piercing the clouds.
Without the faintest warning, the earth beneath their feet began to quake. A strong gust of wind whistled through the grass and kicked gritty dust into their eyes.
“Mania…” said Iris. “We’ve got to get off this plain. We’re open targets here.”
Fear fell like a shadow across Charis’s face. “There are outlaws in these mountains, Mama.”
“There’s no need to worry,” Charis’s father said. “They’re mostly refugees, as well as a few centaurs. And we know their hearts are softer than they let on.” Tycho grinned at the Centaur.
The Centaur threw back his head with a laugh. “Lightning doesn’t strike the same race twice, I’m afraid.” He glared at Chloe and Damian. “But our kind doesn’t make trouble…till trouble comes knocking at our door.”
The ground shook again, this time nearly sending Chloe backward into the dirt. Ethan grabbed her arm and held her steady until the tremors passed.
“Your threats will have to wait until we reach shelter,” Iris said in a firm, maternal tone, defying anyone to ignore her.
The Centaur piped up again after a few moments’ pause. “Are we really going to trust these three ragamuffins so easily?”
Iris’s posture straightened at this.
“Call me paranoid,” the Centaur said, “but what if they’ve been sent by Mania to do a reconnaissance of our position, or worse? Perhaps the lass was a friend once, but who’s to say she hasn’t been corrupted?”
Chloe looked helplessly at Ethan, who stood close, ready to catch her should the shaking start again. She could neither prove they weren’t on Mania’s side, nor that she and Damian were Ashers. But by the way everyone was staring at her, they obviously expected answers before they took another step.
“The stone on your necklace,” said Damian. He was looking at Iris. “It’s jasper, isn’t it?”
The warm wind blew across Iris’s auburn hair as she nodded.
“It was handed down through generations, starting with you, I assume.” Damian’s glance swung to the Centaur. “You—well, you in the form of a middle-aged man named Katsaros—recited a poem that went along with it.” He looked down and frowned at the sun-scorched grass. “I can’t remember the words.”
“You’re from the future?” Charis asked.
“At least two thousand years from now,” Damian answered.
Chloe whipped her head toward the Centaur. “That would be why we’re so atrociously adorned.”
“I would show you my powers if I could,” Damian said, before the Centaur had a chance to retort. “But Carya recently informed us that domas have limits.” He lightly elbowed Chloe’s arm. “We both reached ours earlier today.”
“Today…” Charis began.
“You mean two thousand years from now,” Tycho said, finishing his daughter’s thought.
“Duna dwells outside of time,” said Iris, with the sage wisdom of a goddess. “And so do his laws.” She pointed to the western sky. A black thunderhead sailed past the sun, covering the plain in darkness. Like waves in a squall, it churned with fury, swallowing the horizon in a matter of seconds.
“I am honored to meet you.” Iris gave Damian a slight bow, and Charis and Tycho followed suit. “The three of you must be strong indeed if Duna saw fit to send you here.”
Already Chloe felt fear—the same fear she’d felt in Hades—gripping her heart and shortening her breath, but she made herself speak anyway. “We’re here to help you, Iris,” she said. “Whatever it takes.”
It was too late to turn back now.
CHAPTER EIGHT
PUNISHMENT
Hermes sat on the palace parapet between the towers overlooking the miry gorges and the smog-filled valleys of Hades. The chimera stood watch beside him, its leonine head scanning the horizon for brazen souls trying to flee for the Styx or get their hands on Hermes’ brothers. It was funny, Hermes mused, that this horrific, fire-breathing creature, the stuff of children’s nightmares and the most monstrous of myths, was his only companion in the world.
When Hermes wasn’t busy doing Apollo’s bidding and creating chaos for the mortals, he would alight upon this lofty corner of hell and let his mind daydream about heaven and what was happening there. What dark outer reaches of the cosmos were being stirred into life with a touch of Duna’s finger? What unmapped galaxies were his former countrymen exploring, with their blinding wings of gold and lightning-fast chariots? What glorious music, the kind that emblazons upon one’s heart epic tales of love and valor and sacrifice without a word being sung, was emanating from Duna’s throne room?
Had anyone there seen or heard what he had done for the Vessel and her brother? Did Duna know that Hermes, dastardly rogue and sworn enemy of humankind, had divorced himself from the blasphemous trinity that had corrupted thousands of faithful ágioi—the holy ones—and bred vile monsters such as the one standing guard beside him? If he did know, was there even a hairsbreadth of a chance that he might call him up to heaven’s gates and bestow mercy?
“There you are.”
The chimera’s snake tail hissed at the sound of approaching footsteps. Hermes didn’t need to turn around. Only one voice in the world chilled his bones as Apollo’s did.
“Where else would I be?” he said.
Arrayed in a gossamer nimbus of light, Apollo stilled the chimera’s tail. On his periphery, Hermes watched his brother pull from the scabbard opposite his sword a pair of ivory pipes and begin to play the ghostly lullaby reserved for all the hybrid beasts, from the gorgons and harpies to Cerberus at the Styx.
After a few seconds, the chimera’s mammoth-sized body fell to the ground with a thud that vibrated in Hermes’ ribs.
“You’re not one for idling away the hours like some starry-eyed philosopher,” said Apollo, taking his seat beside Hermes.
“Unlike you, brother,” Hermes began, although he knew better, “the All-Powerful has granted me the privilege of beholding the stars on the rare occasion that my pride doesn’t hinder me from looking heavenward. That they sometimes fill my eyes i
s perhaps the only beauty still afforded me.”
A guttural growl rumbled in Apollo’s throat. The light around his body dimmed as a furious heat pulsed through it, burning Hermes’ skin. The dark lord balled his hands into fists, arms shaking as he fought to restrain his temper. “Why this sudden hatred of me, Hermes?” Apollo asked between clenched teeth.
“You cast me away like some leprous beggar,” answered Hermes. He had nothing to lose by speaking his mind. Their chance to make amends had been dashed the second he had given the boy and his friends those seeds.
“You failed your mission,” Apollo said, his voice rising. His cerulean eyes flashed black like onyx pearls. “It was because of you that the Ashers slipped through our grasp. Your negligence is the reason the fugitives escaped their execution.”
The luminescent web around Apollo faded with a sharp fizzing sound. Vines of anemic light slid from the crown of his head and reached the granite wall, dripping to the ground a hundred feet below. His gilded armor gleamed red, glowing with the ire boiling deep in his bloodless veins.
“And what of the girl?” Hermes asked. “Am I to take the blame for her disappearance from the Vale? Was she not entrusted to the watchful care of Deimos and Phobos?” He watched Apollo’s hand jump to the hilt of his sword, gripping it so tightly that Hermes expected his brother’s white knuckles to pop through the flesh.
“The girl didn’t escape!” Apollo barked, then got to his feet and drew his sword. “She vanished, or so the witnesses say. Deimos and Phobos were helpless to prevent it.” He pressed the sword’s tip to Hermes’ chin and lifted up his brother’s face. “But you…” he seethed. “Aren’t you the gifted one among us three? The one with the power to fly, to shapeshift, to charm, to traipse around all Petros, unseen if you choose?”
Apollo paused to give Hermes time to refute these charges, but no denial could be made. “And still two mortals eluded you. Two children whose powers only recently manifested.”
