The Petros Chronicles Boxset

by Diana Tyler

  “Philip!” Charissa collapsed at her husband’s side, sobbing as she pressed her hands into the wound.

  “I…love you…” Philip wheezed. His dimming, half-opened eyes lifted to Hector, whose own heart felt drained of blood and life. “I love you, son. You make me…so proud.” His head lolled to one side as he released his final breath.

  Ares wiped the bloody spear with his cloak. “See, boy? It’s not so hard to follow orders. You hear them, and then you execute them.” He thrust his sword downward at Charissa, stopping within inches of her throat.

  “What sort of monster are you?” she said weakly, hands covered with her husband’s blood. She either didn’t notice the iron blade poised to take her life as well, or didn’t care.

  “Monster?” Ares laughed and lowered the weapon. “You have no idea what a monster is. I can take you to hell if you wish, so you can behold with your own eyes the unequaled terror Cerberus, the Chimera, and the embodiment of fear itself.”

  Charissa fell over her husband’s chest and wept uncontrollably.

  All Hector could do was stare at the bloodstained carpet.

  “Do I need to explain what will happen if you betray us again?” Ares asked him.

  Hector shook his head.

  “Good.”

  “But you do it,” said Hector, lifting his eyes to Ares as the first tear slipped free. “I can’t kill my cousin. I won’t. I don’t care what Necessity calls for.”

  His mother looked up at him, confusion, grief and disbelief distorting her face, rendering it almost recognizable. If his heart wasn’t broken before, it was ground to dust now.

  “Your cousin?” Charissa whispered slowly, as if each syllable required all her strength.

  “Very well,” Ares said, before Hector could answer her. The war god gazed fondly at the sword as though visualizing his next kill. He jerked his head up, and held out his finger to Hector in warning. “But stand in my way and, Zeus help me, I will slay this woman before your eyes.”

  Hector thought of the dýnami in his pocket. So far, he only knew two of its powers that he could manifest, powers Ares had judiciously revealed to him—telepathy and shapeshifting—and neither was useful now. Chloe was too far away to reach with his thoughts, and there was no time to change his appearance in hopes of escaping Ares’ notice.

  “I understand,” Hector said flatly. His emotions felt like floodwaters pushing ruthlessly against a dam. He wanted to be strong, but the dam was about to break. His father’s dead body was lying at his feet. His mother was now a widow. His cousin was about to die, followed by every other Asher in Petros. And it was all because of him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  METANOIA

  Omniscience,” said Nereus. “Zeus and the other Olympians may think themselves omnipotent, even omnipresent, especially with their powers combined, but none of them confesses to knowing all things. Their ignorance is our greatest ally.”

  The five of them were gathered on the beach, just a hundred yards or so from where Ethan had thrown the dýnami into the sea. It was lunchtime, and Nereus had provided a banquet of fresh-rolled fig cakes, wheaten buns, and bowls of rice and barley.

  Ethan, his stomach craving something more substantial than carbohydrates, had offered to catch a few fish if Nereus would provide a fishing rod, but the sea god would not hear of it. He considered marine life, from the algae and plankton to the dolphins and seals, his honorable subjects, and eating them was out of the question.

  It was this arbitrary topic of the immortals’ dietary preferences that got Ethan thinking. “It’s ambrosia that gives you guys your immortality, right?” he said.

  Nereus smiled as he traced his fingertip around the rim of his double-handled goblet. “No one knows for sure, save the All-Powerful. When it was discovered that it grants eternal life to mortals, we deduced that if we ever abstained from it long enough, we would meet our demise.”

  “So no rebel spirit’s ever proved that theory,” said Chloe.

  Nereus dipped a doughy piece of ambrosia into his nectar. “Not voluntarily. Though throughout my time in Hades, not once did ambrosia touch my lips, nor sweet nectar.” He gestured to himself. “And yet here I am, as alive and enduring as the Great Sea before you.”

  Chloe looked at Ethan as she dropped her fig cake into the silver bowl on her lap. She had eaten half a dozen of them already, a clear indication of her stress, or discomfort, or both. “Why are you wondering about this?”

  Ethan didn’t want to say. He honestly didn’t know yet himself why the ambrosia was on his mind, and he wondered whether it was his subconscious that had placed it there. It could have been a random thought inspired by all the food. But as he watched Orpheus refill Eurydice’s cup, a reason occurred to him, one that seemed so obvious.

  “If you’re immortal,” he said to Chloe, measuring each word carefully, “you’ll have more chances to succeed at what Carya—I mean Duna—wants you to do.”

  Eurydice thanked her husband for the wine and took a drink. “A clever thought. You might as well immortalize Orpheus while you’re at it. Given enough time, I have no doubt he could sedate all of Olympus with his soporific songs.” She laughed and tossed aside an overripe grape. “A world made peaceful through eternal music,” she mused. “Quite a thought, is it not?”

  Orpheus eyed the lyre at rest beside him, regarding it as if it were some sort of venomous reptile. “An eternity with my lyre. Sounds heavenly right now, but I fear it would become unbearable soon enough.”

  Nereus knitted his brow. “Following your logic, Ethan, why not administer ambrosia to every citizen of Petros? Make them all invincible, impervious to death.”

  “Because the only thing worse than death is a life devoid of meaning,” said Chloe, her somber eyes focused on the horizon.

  Ethan couldn’t help wondering if she was remembering the Fields of Asphodel, a place where souls who were indifferent in life did nothing in death but pick flowers day and night.

  “I don’t want to be immortal.” Chloe joined her hands in her lap and studied them, tugging gently on the end of each finger. “My body wasn’t made to last forever, and I don’t want it to.”

  “Are you implying that humans’ purpose on this planet has a limit?” Nereus asked, curiosity enlivening his ageless face. “That there comes a point when one’s existence becomes worthless, obsolete?”

  “I’m implying that our purpose ultimately leads us back home.” She smiled up at the white cirrus clouds hanging highest in the sky, stretching over their heads like the undying breaths of Duna himself. “I happen to know that for a fact,” she said, glancing quickly at Orpheus.

  There was no doubt in Ethan’s mind that she was referring to the brief encounter she’d had with the poet after his death. That meeting had given her hope. It had given her the confidence to travel back two thousand years and change the course of history.

  “The Asher has studied the oracles,” Orpheus said. He cleared his throat as if he were about to sing or make a speech, but he recited the oracle instead: “‘Duna has created everything beautiful in its time. He has placed eternity in our hearts.’” He placed his right hand on his heart and his left over Eurydice’s. “This world is filled with transience, the vicissitudes of fortune, the misgivings of the mind, the oscillations of the heart.” He tapped his chest. “But eternity, our innate knowledge of it, is an immovable axis. We can repress this consciousness all we want, but it cannot be extinguished altogether. It’s a fingerprint of the All-Powerful.”

  All eyes shifted to Nereus. All ears waited to hear what he, an immortal, had to say about the inevitable meaninglessness of life. But the sea god didn’t speak; he just parted his lips with a labored sigh, signaling unabashed tears to stream down his cheeks and dampen his grizzled beard.

  “No weapon cuts more deeply than the sword of the tongue, Orpheus.” Nereus raised his palms to the sky and bowed his head as a cloud passed over the sun, cloaking him in shadow. “Heaven, oh hea
ven, my forsaken home,” he groaned, and flung his head up as a gull squawked overhead. “Oh, that I could change into an eagle and soar a million miles across the universe to behold your gates of pearl for just one second.” He wiped his face with his mantle, then stood and started for the sea.

  Chloe knocked over her wine cup as she got to her feet. “Where are you going? We didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Nereus turned to her, clasping both hands at his breast. “Perhaps…” he began, his face clouding with deep shades of the sea. “Perhaps the reason, the true reason, I was angry with Eione for freeing us from Tartarus is because that is what we deserved.” As if suddenly ashamed of his vulnerability, he pulled back his shoulders and pushed out his chest. “I will find the portal and return there. It’s where I belong.”

  A fast-moving shadow sailed over their picnic, accompanied by the low whirring sound of rapidly beating wings. Ethan looked up to see Hermes hovering in the air, his hand outstretched to Nereus.

  Nereus staggered backward, the hem of his robe darkening as the gentle tide lapped against it. “Why, if it isn’t the guide to hell himself. I should have known you would find a way to escape before Zeus turned the tables on you.”

  Hermes closed and reopened his hand, directing the sea god’s attention back to it. “Duna has heard your prayer. Leave these mortals be for now. When you return, you’ll be better suited to assist them.”

  Nereus gave a mistrustful laugh. “What prayer?”

  “You wish to see the gates of heaven again, do you not?” Again, Hermes beckoned Nereus toward him. “Come now.” He looked at the two familiar faces below his feet. “Ethan, Chloe, have you not informed him of my…” He dropped his hand and scratched his chin, unable to find the word he was looking for.

  “Your mid-life crisis?” Chloe offered.

  Ethan laughed. “You mean his mid-eternal-life crisis.”

  “Metanoia,” said Hermes. “That’s the word.”

  Nereus chuckled darkly. “You speak of penitence, Hermes? Forgive my amusement, but do you truly think you can convince me of a notion as farcical as your own repentance?”

  “Certainly not. At least, not with words.” Hermes unsheathed his wand and floated closer to Nereus as Orpheus moved closer to Eurydice, who was gathering her skirts, preparing to run in case the immortals’ conversation turned violent.

  “Touch me with that damnable thing,” said Nereus, “and I’ll turn myself into a squid and—”

  Chloe pushed out a palm. “Calm down. He’s telling the truth. He’s one of the good guys now.”

  Orpheus grabbed his lyre and shook it for Nereus to see. “If they speak falsely, I shall help you subdue them. But why not see for yourself whether Hermes lies, as is his notorious nature.”

  Nereus stepped out of the foamy surf and examined the golden wand before him. He nodded so slowly that the gesture was hardly perceivable, but it was all the permission Hermes needed. He pointed the wand at Nereus’ sandals, and instantly a gilded, flapping pair of wings appeared on their heels.

  “If I speak falsely, as you and my gifted nephew fear, may Duna tie a millstone around my neck and fling me into Charybdis’s belly.”

  Nereus stared at him, suspicious still as he levitated off the sand.

  “May we go, too?” Eurydice asked, her pink cheeks even rosier in her excitement. “Or are our mortal frames too fragile to endure the journey?”

  Orpheus stroked her hair. His wife’s spirit for adventure did not irk him. On the contrary, it seemed to have quite the opposite effect. “My dear,” said the poet softly, “your matchless frame can sustain many things, but I’m afraid a trip through the stars is not one of them.”

  Hermes spun the wand in his hand as he smiled down at the fabled couple. Sitting there on the rocky beach amid a bountiful, god-catered feast, the salty breeze blowing around them, they looked like a painting come to life.

  Ethan glanced at Chloe and caught her looking at him. Was she thinking what he was? Did she miss his touch as he missed hers?

  “In another time,” said Hermes to Eurydice, “you and your husband proclaimed Duna’s grace, and eternity with him, to the millions of woeful shades trapped beneath the earth.” His bright eyes moved to Orpheus. “You were the first one, Orpheus.”

  “The first what, Uncle?”

  “The first Petrodian with rebel blood to turn back to the All-Powerful.”

  Orpheus drew a breath and held it in his chest before breathing out the word: “Metanoia.”

  Hermes nodded. “It would not be right to deny you conveyance to heaven when your lives—forgive my bluntness—could be cut short at any moment. Should you perish in this cause, may your souls find rest behind heaven’s, and not Hades’, gates.”

  Eurydice reached for both of Orpheus’s hands and they pulled each other up. “It’s settled, then,” she said, spinning around to Hermes, eager to receive her own pair of gilded wings.

  “Don’t you think all our lives could be cut short at any moment?” Ethan stood up and swung his arm toward Chloe. “Chloe especially. She—”

  “I’m going to heaven, Ethan.” He turned to see her standing behind him, her blond hair gleaming with a halo’s light as the sun crawled out of the clouds. “Remember?”

  “She’s right.” Hermes stabbed his wand at Eurydice’s feet, then Orpheus’s, and they floated up to his side. “Find Damian. Find as many Ashers as you can to go with you. When we return, it will be time to prepare.”

  “And when will that be?” Ethan asked.

  Hermes looked up at the sun now crossing into the western swath of sky. “Dusk. No later.”

  “I’ll be ready,” said Chloe.

  Ethan’s heart was beating a hundred miles per hour, and yet Chloe seemed as calm as if she’d just been told to study hard for the final exam by a university professor. But Hermes wasn’t a professor, and he certainly wasn’t talking about a final exam. This was a final war, with the fate of humanity hanging in the balance.

  Before Ethan could blink, Hermes and his passengers were already halfway across the ocean, their figures shrinking to the size of swallows as they arced up into the stratosphere.

  “Chloe.” He didn’t know what he wanted to say to her. He just needed to say her name.

  “I can answer your question now,” said Chloe, bending down to tie her shoe. “Why I was headed to your house.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  She took his hand, squeezing it gently. “I want to. If something happens, I want you to know.” She took a deep breath before lowering her misty blue eyes to their hands. “I was wrong.” Her stoic shell softened as she took a step closer and let him see the broken beauty of her face. She clenched her jaw and tightened her chin, trying hard not to cry.

  When her hand began to slip from his, he pulled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head. “You know I love you.” He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes as she melted into him, rectifying the past in a moment, transporting them back to the way things were before the new timeline had thrown them off course.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered.

  Ethan brought his hand to her face and caressed her cheek. But as he leaned in to kiss her, he saw a man dressed in ancient armor walking toward them. Behind the man, a cloud like Carya’s was dissolving to mist and evaporating into the air.

  “Chloe, you need to get us out of here.”

  Chloe glanced back quickly at the man, then turned back to Ethan and closed her eyes.

  Nothing. No shadows. No buzzing. No rattling or flashes. Only the steady sound of the soldier’s boots treading upon the rocks. They weren’t going anywhere.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  VALOR

  I’ve already used my doma twice today,” Chloe said, as the tears that had been threatening to fall for the last few moments slipped down her cheeks.

  “I don’t suppose either of you have seen King Nereus.” The solider removed his bronze helmet and tucked it
under his arm. “Forgive me. I am Ares.” As he bowed, Ethan noticed a long dark streak running the length of the man’s crimson cloak. “The king is missing from Xirolakos. Zeus has sent me to retrieve him.”

  Chloe sniffed back her tears and wiped her eyes, steeling herself to face him. “Nereus is with Hermes. And you’re not here for Nereus, you’re here for me.”

  Ethan stepped in front of her and spread his arms. “Were you the maniac who was supposed to give me a flat tire today?”

  Ares leaned against his spear, grinning. “That’s what I told Hector, for the sake of his confidence. But I must keep a low profile, so I could not avail myself of inconveniencing you.”

  “Well, you’re sort of inconveniencing me now by threatening my girlfriend.”

  “Ethan, don’t,” Chloe whispered.

  Ares straightened as he took the spear and gripped it above his right shoulder. “Where is your head, boy? I assure you, it will be food for the king’s fish if you don’t start using it.” He jerked his head left. “Now step aside. I promise to make it as painless as possible.”

  “Never.”

  No sooner had Ethan shouted the word than Chloe had jumped out from behind him, making herself an easy target for Ares’ spear. “Run, Ethan,’ she said. “Find Damian.”

  Time stopped moving. As if watching in slow motion, Ethan saw the god’s fingers release the ash spear shaft as he launched the weapon into the air. He saw the polished point shining in the sun as the missile sailed toward Chloe. He saw her face, inexplicably peaceful, her body relaxed and ready. She was welcoming death.

  The spear grazed the side of her arm, ripping through the fabric of her long-sleeved denim shirt. She looked down at her arm and then touched it. No blood. Not even a scratch. The spear lay behind her in the sand.

  Ethan ran to pick it up, but it was too heavy for him. He cursed and tried again, and again.

  Ares gave a mocking laugh. “Put your back into it, boy.”