by Diana Tyler
“Let’s not beat around the bush, brother,” said Hermes. “I’d wager you’ve had more eyes than Argus watching me of late. No doubt one of your devils has informed you of my perfidy.” He pulled his head back and placed his neck against the side of Apollo’s blade. “Take my head and throw it to the furies. And when it grows back, chain me beside my father below and let his bolt be my bane for eternity.” He stared down at the blade, daring Apollo to deal the deathblow. “I care not what you do to me.”
Apollo sneered down at the silver blade, contempt curling his lips into a bloodthirsty snarl. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Of course,” said Hermes, unfazed by the pressure of the sword pushing harder against his jugular. “We’ve committed high treason against the All-Powerful.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “We ascended the heights of hubris and staked our claim as the most imbecilic numbskulls in the history of all creation.”
With one swift motion, Apollo flipped his sword in the air and thrust its pommel hard into Hermes’ chest, knocking the wind out of him. “If you weren’t immune to every poison and potion of our realm, I’d suspect someone played a trick on the chief of tricksters.”
“It’s no trick,” Hermes wheezed, as he fell onto his hands and knees. “What’s done is done. I’m ready to face my punishment, from you and the All-Powerful both.”
Apollo spun the sword on its tip and let it clatter onto the ground. He crouched before Hermes and pulled him up by the cowl of his cloak. “You think the All-Powerful cares about a sniveling worm like you?”
He pushed Hermes against the sleeping chimera’s belly. The monster stirred as the snake tail impulsively whipped against Hermes’ shin.
“You think he cares about a spineless, two-faced fox who acts without creed or convention? He sees straight through you, as I do.” Apollo spat in Hermes’ face, then again when Hermes wiped away the spittle. “You disgust me.”
Hermes felt as if scales, which had hitherto blinded him from the truth, had been peeled from his eyes. He was beginning to think and see clearly for the first time since before the War, before the rebellion that had cleaved heaven in two. He lifted himself from the ground and drew his wand from the small leather sheath on his belt.
“You will lose, brother.”
Hermes reared back and heaved the wand over the wall. Next to go were his winged sandals, which he offered to the goat head bleating greedily from the chimera’s back. It gobbled down the snack then promptly belched with satisfaction.
“Your success in blotting out Duna from the pages of history has been nothing more than an illusion.” Hermes dunked his fingers into his satchel and brought out gold grains of sand from Circe’s bewitched island of Aeaea. He threw them into the air and then, using his fingers, directed them to collect before Apollo’s face in the form of a diadem.
Unable to resist its beauty, Apollo reached for it, but the crown broke apart and the sand gathered again into seven separate arches.
The Moonbow.
Apollo roared at the top of his lungs. Even the lion head of the chimera ducked its head in fear.
But Hermes had never stood stronger. He waved the Moonbow toward him, and then sent it up into the false dome of sky pushing against Petros’s crust. “The Moonbow and all it stands for—sacrifice, salvation, freedom, triumph—will prevail.”
“You know nothing,” Apollo roared. “I’ve been silencing and destroying Ashers for generations. I silenced our father, Zeus, and that sea monster, Poseidon. Do you think I’m afraid of these children just because there are two of them?”
Hermes walked forward, stood within inches of Apollo’s face and gave his answer clearly, drawing it out with an orator’s flourish. “Yes.”
Apollo stepped on the hilt of his sword and it sprang with eagerness into his hand. A second later, Hermes felt the cold steel pierce his abdomen. Apollo leaned into him, driving the blade deeper and deeper until not an inch of it was visible.
“Get used to this,” Apollo whispered and then kissed Hermes on the cheek.
CHAPTER NINE
KINSHIP
Damian jolted awake at the sound of metal clashing against metal. His eyes flashed to Chloe, who was sitting cross-legged on a straw mat, stuffing her mouth with bread.
“Sorry,” she said, breadcrumbs spilling from her lips. “Did I wake you up?”
Damian shook his head, then winced at a crick in his neck and frowned at the lumpy makeshift pillow he’d made of his hoodie. “No,” he said, pointing outside, “that did.”
The door of the tent they’d been assigned to fluttered open long enough for Damian to see Ethan and Tycho sparring with swords, their bodies backlit by a peach sunrise peeking over the mountains. A huge, gray wolf-like dog stuck its nose inside the tent and sniffed the air. It seemed to be deciding whether it wanted to further investigate these new people or be on its way.
Chloe held out her bread, and the canine bounded toward her and poked at her hand with its snout. “You hungry?” Chloe scratched its back then patted its belly. “You sure don’t feel like you’re underfed.”
“It’s a dog, Chloe. They’re always hungry.” Damian rolled his eyes as his sister gave the dog her bread. It scarfed it down without chewing. “You know animals aren’t supposed to have people food, right?”
“Not everyone reads the signs at the zoo.”
The dog neared Chloe’s face and smelled her hair and ears. “That tickles!” she squealed.
The dog’s wide jaws smiled at her excitement, and its tail wagged back and forth in a frenetic blur. It crouched down in a playful pose, floppy ears alert, tail fanning the ground.
“What does it want?” Chloe asked.
“For you to play with it,” Damian answered.
Without hesitating, Chloe got on all fours and emitted a pathetic series of barks. The dog tilted its head to the side, then, as if it could think of nothing better to do, trotted forward and graced her cheek with a slobbery lick.
“Ewwww!” She wiped the drool from her face and rubbed her hand on the hard dirt floor.
“I see you’ve met Artemis.”
Damian glanced up to see an old man in white robes standing in the opening of the tent. He stooped and stepped inside, then pointed an authoritative finger at the dog. “Artemis, out!”
The dog spun around and sat on its haunches, like a soldier at attention.
“Haven’t you got a corncrake to catch?” the man said.
“Clever name,” said Chloe. “Artemis was my favorite goddess.” Hearing her name called, Artemis’s taut body relaxed and she cuddled close to Chloe’s side. “So you’re a girl.” Chloe grinned and stroked the dog’s head. Artemis panted happily as her tail made a swishing noise on the floor.
The old man furrowed his brow as he squinted at Chloe from beneath his bushy salt-and-pepper unibrow. “A pagan goddess. If the hound were mine, I’d change her name and sprinkle holy water on her.”
Damian stood and wiped the dust from his jeans. “I’m Damian. This is my sister, Chloe.”
“I’ve been informed,” the man said as he lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, then placed a hand over his ear lightly. “I was informed by the messenger. She gave me quite a fright when she invaded my quarters like a ransacking thief.”
Chloe laughed, but stopped when she saw the man was not the slightest bit amused.
“You are Ashers, is that right?” He looked Damian up and down, suspicion deepening every wrinkle of his face as he studied him.
“We are,” said Chloe. Maintaining a hand on Artemis’s neck, she stood up. “I hope that’s okay with you.”
Artemis stopped panting. Her tail stopped wagging. She could sense the tension in the cramped space.
“Of course.” The man combed his long hoary beard with his fingers. He turned to Damian. “After what Iris has done for our world, any Asher is a friend of the temple.” The man’s mouth smiled, although his lusterless eyes remained cold. He extended
his hand to Chloe. “My name is Archelaos. I became high priest after Anatolius was assassinated.”
“High priest at the temple,” said Chloe. “I don’t know if Carya told you, but my doma allows me to travel through time. During one of my trips, I saw the temple destroyed. There was nothing left except ruins.”
The man’s hand lowered shakily to his heart. Sensing his distress, Artemis went to him and brushed up against his legs, then licked his fingers.
“I take it that’s in the future,” Damian said to Chloe. She shrugged as the old man staggered back. “Way to go, Chloe. You’re gonna give him a heart attack.”
The man quickly righted himself as if he were ashamed of his startled reaction. The hand on his heart returned gracefully to his side as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. “How susceptible the flesh is to fear.” He opened his eyes. “How quickly it forgets that it does no good to fret about the future.”
“Maybe that’s why we’re here,” Chloe said. “To change the future.”
Carefully, the old man knelt beside a terracotta jar. He picked it up by its vertical handles and poured water into a shallow bowl. Artemis neared it, her pink tongue reaching for a drink, but the man shooed her away.
“Worthless mutt,” he rasped.
He washed his hands in the water and reached for a folded towel that had been placed on the tent’s solitary bench. “They say the Ashers are sent by Duna, that their powers flow from him and operate for our good. But I’m not convinced.” He dried his hands and then eased himself up from the floor. “Whatever becomes of you and your friends out there, my hands, and my conscience, are clean.”
A chill hung in the air, even though, from the sight of the red and yellow wildflowers dappling the foothills, Damian knew it was spring or early summer. He was surrounded by tents, and scores of people—men, women and children—milled about as if this rocky countryside were a proper city.
One-wheeled carts filled with timber creaked along the uneven earth toward what appeared to be small houses under construction. There was only one finished building, which, from the puffs of smoke rising from its chimney and the repetitive banging of hammers, Damian assumed was a forge.
Going the opposite way, toward the mountain, were young, suntanned women with wicker baskets on their arms. In the plain below, spans of oxen pulled their plows while unchaperoned children zigzagged between the rows in high-spirited games of chase.
Damian and Chloe asked around for Ethan and the others, but they soon learned that the communication barrier between themselves and the general public hadn’t been broken by Carya’s magic. It was probably for the best, they decided; no information was better than a little information that could easily morph into gossip and rumor. As far as Damian was concerned, having Archelaos’s distrust was already a problem.
They found a boulder to sit on and watched as the old man darted and weaved through the hubbub. When an attendant approached holding the reins of a sorrel steed, the old man mounted and cantered down the hill, out of sight.
“No heart attack,” said Chloe.
Damian blew air out his nostrils, his version of a laugh at one of Chloe’s quips. “Not yet.”
He turned to Chloe and, for the first time since they’d reunited, realized how desperately she needed a bath. Her dirty-blond hair was darkened by the buildup of oil and dirt, and ash covered her pale skin. Her eyes, framed by puffy blue circles, were glassy, and every inch of her clothing was begrimed. But she didn’t seem to care. He knew she had never cared about anyone’s opinion of her, least of all his.
“So tell me about this Mania person,” said Damian.
“I’m only assuming she’s a person,” said Chloe, smiling at Artemis as the dog walked by, heeling at the side of a young man carrying a bow, a quiver of arrows strapped across his chest. “From what I saw, and what you saw last night…” Chloe paused and stared vacantly into the distance. “She’s more like a storm.”
“Why did you go back to see the temple destroyed?”
“I didn’t mean to, really,” Chloe said, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “I’ve only used the doma a few times, but it seems to respond to prayer. When I used it to go to the temple, I just prayed for Ethan to survive.”
“Survive what?”
“Apparently the councilman rigs all the guards’ suits with bombs. Crazy, right?”
Damian’s stomach balled into a knot as his mind flashed back to his own brush with death, when he’d helped Ethan and his parents escape the council building. “He’s a maniac.”
“You can imagine how nuts Mania is if there’s a word named after her.”
“So why do you think the prayer led you to the temple? Why not to the councilman’s so-called coronation?” Damian felt his neck grow hot. There was nothing he’d like more than to stick that needle into the councilman’s puny little arm and watch his life ebb away.
Chloe picked at the dirt beneath her fingernails. “I thought it was because Duna wanted the councilman to see the world like it was before. When people were free and there weren’t any secrets.”
She lifted her gaze to a group of little girls braiding each other’s hair beneath a shady plane tree down the slope. Not far from them, a half dozen boys kicked a ball back and forth.
“There was a celebration going on before Mania got there,” she continued. “And it was so much better than the Lycaea Festival.” She looked at Damian as if she might elaborate, but instead pressed her lips together and reached for the cup of water on the grass beside her.
“But the councilman’s perspective wasn’t changed, obviously,” said Damian.
He saw Ethan and Tycho trudging up the hill, their faces glistening with sweat, their bare shoulders pink with the start of sunburn. Charis, holding Iris’s hand, appeared at their side and smiled shyly when her eyes met his. Iris’s jasper stone glinted in the sunlight as she waved at them.
“No,” answered Chloe. “That’s why I don’t think that was the reason Duna led me there.”
“Then why?”
“I think he wanted to show me what I’m supposed to stop.”
Whether she’d intended it or not, Damian felt the sting in her words; she was expecting to go after Mania alone, to change the course of history on her own. And why would she think any differently? Why would she think that he, her own flesh and blood, who’d left her to rot in Hades, would help her now? Even if he had helped the Rosses, he hadn’t lifted a finger when Chloe had needed him most. She had no reason to trust him.
“I know I haven’t always been there for you—” Damian stopped himself. He couldn’t sugarcoat this. “I know I deserted you, is what I meant to say.”
Chloe lowered her head, her long bangs hiding the side of her face.
“What you said, back in the woods… It was all true, I was a coward. I had the power to save you, and I just walked away.”
Chloe took a deep breath and sat up straight. She cleared her throat to speak. “You know what Dad told me when I saw him down there?” Damian shook his head, puckering his lips to keep from crying. “He said the Fantásmata haven’t made it easy to act brave or take chances. He said he should have told us about his doma, but he was too afraid, just like all the Ashers in our family before him.”
Damian sighed. “You aren’t afraid.”
Chloe turned to him. “I’m terrified. But we can’t let that stop us.” She scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. “The past is in the past.”
CHAPTER TEN
ORPHANS
It appeared to Ethan that Chloe and Damian had made amends. Chloe’s head was resting on Damian’s shoulder and he didn’t seem to mind.
“Sleep well?” Ethan asked as he removed a damp rag from his neck and wiped his brow. “We tried waking you up this morning so you could come with us. I swear, you two could probably sleep through an earthquake.”
“We may very well find out soon,” Damian joked.
Chloe raised her head. “Where’d you go?” she asked Ethan.
Damian pinched his nostrils closed. “Did you find a lake or waterfall or something for Chloe to shower in?”
Chloe elbowed his ribs. “You don’t exactly smell like a spring bouquet yourself, Damian.”
Ethan laughed. “Be nice, kids.”
It was nice to see them getting along. Even before this whole Asher thing started, Ethan had never known them to be particularly close. The majority of their classmates didn’t even know they were siblings, let alone twins.
He turned at the sound of clip-clopping hooves sauntering up the rocky path. The Centaur was munching on an orange and wore a wide-brimmed hat on his head. If only Ethan’s friends at school could see this.
“What are you gawking at?” the Centaur said, his mouth full of the orange flesh of the fruit.
Ethan blinked and turned away. He hadn’t meant to stare. “Nothing. You’re just…”
The Centaur spit out a seed. “Just what, man? Spit it out.”
“You’re different,” Damian answered for Ethan.
The Centaur leaned sideways so he could look past Ethan into Damian’s eyes. He jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t even start with me, kid.”
“You’ll believe me one day,” said Damian. “One day when you’re dead.”
The Centaur threw the orange skin into the dirt and stormed forward, nearly knocking Ethan off his feet. “Are you threatening me now?” He grabbed Damian’s arm and yanked him off the boulder.
Damian wiggled his fingers tauntingly and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Hey!” yelled Chloe. Was Damian really going to try and wrestle an eight-foot Centaur? She jumped up and stood between them, holding her brother back with her hand.
“I’m not threatening you,” said Damian, in the most threatening tone he could use. He spun away from Chloe’s hand and stood in front of the Centaur.
