The Petros Chronicles Boxset

by Diana Tyler

  “The future?” Cronus laughed. Again, he pronounced the word as though it was foreign to him.

  Apollo rocked away from the idol and made his way to them, brushing politely past his peers. “Perhaps I can explain, my lord, since I have been in the All-Powerful’s presence when he spoke of Petros and the nature of its formation.”

  Cronus waved his hand impatiently, permitting Apollo to continue.

  “The new planet is confined to its dimensions. There are spatial dimensions which we all know— length and breadth and height— but Duna has ordained that the mortals also exist within a unique domain known as time, which consists of the past, present, and, as the green shoot said, the future.”

  The spirits murmured to themselves until Cronus hushed them with a single stamp of his foot. “Thank you for that elucidation, Apollo. I have no doubt the All-Powerful’s affinity for you will continue to serve us well.” He turned to Chloe. “So, green shoot, these thousands of years you speak of, that is a long time in the future?”

  “Yes. And in the not-so-distant future, all of you in this mountain will end up as exiles on my planet.” She glanced again at Apollo, debating in her mind whether to inform Cronus of his betrayal.

  “Can every Asher travel through time like you?” Cronus asked.

  “There is another with her, Father,” Apollo said. “Duna granted him the ability to fly as well.”

  “Then find him that their human blood may be sacrificed together,” Cronus said.

  The spirits unleashed an exultant yell, and Cronus did not disrupt it. He waited until they settled down to speak again.

  “The All-Powerful must consider us the dumbest lot in heaven if he thinks we can’t see through his preemptive attack, and a pathetic one at that.” More shouting ensued as Cronus drew his sword and raised it high. “Whatever the future holds, we will not cower from it, but will face it and fight like the divine beings we are.”

  Deafening applause seconded this, and Zeus called for order.

  “Do you think the All-Powerful doesn’t know that you’re here right now and what you’re planning?” Chloe said. “He knows everything. If I was the All-Powerful, I would chain you up in hell right now, but he’s giving you another chance. Don’t you see that?” Maybe if they could experience hell for a day or two, they would understand, but the spirits just stared at her, gleeful smiles still plastered to their faces. They had no concept of hell.

  “Perhaps it’s you who has another chance, Chloe,” said Apollo, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.

  Cronus’s head jerked toward Apollo. “The mortal’s destiny is sealed. Her blood will fill our flagons this very day.”

  Apollo bowed as he crossed his hand over his chest. “May I speak privately with you?”

  Yes, go! Chloe thought. A little more space and the wormhole could come and she’d be free.

  But Cronus puffed up his chest at Apollo and squared his shoulders. “Whatever you have to say, you will say it openly.”

  Crap!

  Apollo nodded. “Very well. I meant only to express my concern and suggest that perhaps it’s better to keep the mortal alive a while longer. It’s possible her knowledge of future events could work in our favor. Moreover, would it not behoove us to learn more about her extraordinary abilities?”

  He winked at her, and she felt the nausea returning. Apollo didn’t want to keep her alive. He wanted her blood for himself, and to extract her power like he’d done with Straton. And once Apollo found the dýnami, he would have all the rebels eating out of his hand.

  Cronus raised an eyebrow in interest as he fingered the golden brooch at his shoulder and placed a heavy hand on the back of Chloe’s neck. His black eyes surveyed the spirits. “Apollo’s proposition is sound, is it not, my children?” Another tumult of acclamation filled the hall. “If the human wishes to remain and align with us, she will be spared. If she refuses, and chooses instead to defend a god who dispatches puny mortals to do his bidding, she will die.”

  “I choose death,” she said.

  The words had come out so easily, as if her tongue had formed them of its own volition. And they sounded confident, firm, not at all like the tremulous child’s tone she had spoken with earlier. She knew this courage wasn’t coming from herself, but from Duna.

  Despite electing to die, she felt a strange peace settle into the deepest parts of her being. It was a feeling akin to the one she’d experienced in Hades, right after Deimos and Phobos had made her cell a living nightmare, filled with the things she feared most. As she did then, she now expected herself to cry out in desperation, to burst her lungs as she pled for mercy. But she was still, quiet, incomprehensibly calm.

  She stepped out as far as her chains would allow. “You can destroy my life and drink my blood. You can bury my bones in this mountain and do the same to my brother. But you cannot destroy the part of me that is, like you, immortal.”

  Ecstatic chills rose on her arms and neck as she felt a bubbling heat sweep through her, compelling her to lift her voice even more and proclaim as loudly as she could. She locked eyes with every spirit whose face was not obscured by shadow. The spirits formed a wall of impenetrable pride. Though beautiful to look upon, she could see nothing but vile darkness seething in their eyes.

  “My soul will be free from this dirt tent you see me in now, but you, all of you, will be imprisoned by your own hubris.” Feeling the shackles cutting into her skin, she took a step back. “I’ve made my decision. It’s not too late to change yours.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  RUSE

  A foreboding silence hung in the damp and heavy air. Chloe could hear nothing but her own breathing as she studied the spirits’ faces. It was clear that she had persuaded none of them to change their minds. A dozen were already raising their polished ash spears, which glowed like gray flames before them. Others had turned to Cronus with their bronze shields lifted, forming a shining carapace, in salute of their leader.

  She spotted Athena among them, her eyes like a dark, swift-running current, filled with the untamable rapids of corruption. No doubt Hermes was near as well, readying his wand against her.

  “So it’s settled, then,” said Cronus.

  Chloe jumped as the eagle launched into the air and flew into the shadows. Within seconds, it returned holding a serrated sickle in its talons, which it dropped into its master’s hands.

  “Duna receives sacrifices of song and praise,” Cronus said. “We will receive sacrifices of those who praise him.” Another resounding cry erupted from his pride-born children, their weapons shaking in their restless fists, thirsting for their first taste of murder.

  Please keep Damian safe, Chloe prayed. Please make a way for him to get home.

  “Zeus!” Cronus called out.

  Chloe saw a hulking figure emerge from the rearmost corner. He was not as tall as Cronus, but he was considerably broader, his huge form seeming to fill that part of the cavern. His nose was curved like the eagle’s beak, and his black eyes appeared just as soulless. Beneath his laurel crown, his brow was crinkled with an intense scowl, which deepened when he looked at her. He nodded solemnly to Cronus, but kept his eyes on Chloe.

  “Shall I bring the altar, Father?” he said.

  “Seal the entrance first,” Cronus said. “The opportunity to desert the rebellion has come and gone.”

  The sound of rushing footsteps entered the cavern. Chloe could make out the silhouettes of two people, one taller than the other. In an instant, she knew the one who was stooped low with his hands bound behind him was her brother.

  “Hermes?” Cronus craned his neck to see. “With what mischief have you entertained yourself today?”

  The spirits held up torches to get a better look at the prisoner. In the firelight, Chloe could see blood dripping from Damian’s broken nose, and bruises purpling his cheeks and swollen lips. “Damian,” she whispered. She knew it was impossible for him to hear her over the clamor, but he glanced up at her, hi
s eyes as full of pity and regret as her own.

  “I intended no mischief, Father Cronus,” said Hermes. “But when I was on my way to tend my sheep, I couldn’t help but notice a rather gangly and disfigured bird bumbling through the clouds.”

  His comrades erupted with laughter; some prodded and poked at Damian with the bronze butts of their spears.

  “He smells worse than the other one,” declared one of them, a young man, perhaps a teenager, with long, wild red hair and a baby-smooth face now pinched tight in disgust. Those around him held their noses and chuckled in agreement. “Could you not have given him a bath first before you dragged him in here? Our nostrils weren’t made for such assault.”

  “Calm down, Menoetius,” said Cronus, although the command was half-hearted at best. He spun the sickle in his hand, and then waved at Hermes. “Bring him forward.”

  Damian didn’t wait to be pushed, but walked quickly of his own accord. He knew this was no time to play the hero, nor even the dauntless victim. Resisting would only prolong his and Chloe’s suffering.

  What little daylight had illuminated the room was chased away as Zeus rolled the boulder across the entrance. The flare of the torches cast a ghastly hue over the assembly as choking darkness transformed the chamber into a tomb. It was the perfect place for blood sacrifice.

  Apollo came forward, a gloating expression hardening his delicate features. “Damian, the one who subdues,” he said mockingly.

  Cronus waved him off and spoke directly to Damian. “I care not what your name is. I’m sorry to tell you that your companion here,” he said, gripping Chloe’s shoulder, “has chosen to remain loyal to the god who led her here in the first place. It’s this sort of blind adoration that we here seek to exterminate, and shall exterminate forthwith.” He removed his hand from Chloe and crossed it over his chest with an obeisant bow. “But I’m nothing if not unprejudiced, and I won’t withhold from you the mercy I offered her.”

  When Damian took too long to answer, Hermes jabbed his wand into his sternum. “Answer him, you imbecile.”

  Damian shook his head, but then parted his puffy lips to speak. “Freeze,” he said.

  Chloe winced as Hermes’ wand struck Damian’s shoulders.

  “Did a few measly punches rattle that rodent’s brain of yours?” Hermes walked behind Damian and slapped him on the back of the head. “Here, let’s see if I can jostle things back into their proper place.” He followed another slap with an elbow to the kidney.

  “Stop it,” Chloe shouted. “Let him go, Hermes, please.”

  Cronus smiled, enjoying this glimpse into human anguish. “Enough, Hermes. I admit that I always imagined you would be averse to inflicting pain, but perhaps these humans have uncovered a different side of you. A more useful side.” He turned again to Damian, who was shivering now in the midst of the hostile crowd. “Now speak sense, Damian. What is your decision? Stand with us, or perish with Chloe?”

  Damian stopped shaking and composed himself enough to lift his head. A line of blood trickled from his nose into the cracked corners of his mouth. He drew a deep breath, then shouted at the top of his voice: “Freeze!”

  Chloe gasped as Cronus brandished his sickle. Within seconds, hoarfrost materialized on his robes, sickle and skin. His entire body was soon encased in a slab of silver-blue ice. She waited for Apollo or Zeus to storm forward and kill them both, but then she saw that they, too, and all the spirits, were frozen solid, their torches fallen and burning on the floor.

  She looked at her brother.

  Damian’s chest was heaving. His eyes were closed. “Thank you,” he whispered. She didn’t have to ask whom he was thanking.

  Hermes was standing behind Damian with not a single snowflake or ice crystal on him. “Calm down,” he said. Then he touched his wand to Damian’s shackles, snapping them off like twigs.

  Damian thanked him again, then shook and rolled his wrists, and gently wiped the blood from his face. “I think you enjoyed beating the crap out of me a little too much.”

  “You did tell me to make it convincing.” Hermes moved to Chloe and sliced through her chains.

  “This was …” Feeling suddenly lightheaded, she leaned back against the pillar. “This was…that was all…”

  “A ruse?” Hermes said. “Indeed. The one who subdues made quite a case for your survival.”

  Chloe pushed herself from the pillar and threw her arms around Damian. She was still too stunned to speak coherently, but she knew he didn’t need her to talk. For once in her life, she could sense his emotions; they were the same as her own: grateful, hopeful, but not yet unafraid.

  Hermes looked around at the spirits and smiled, then reached out with his wand and tapped on the icy trunk that was Cronus’s thigh. “You two had better take your celebration elsewhere. You won’t want to be present for this iceberg’s wrath when he thaws.”

  Chloe released Damian from her hug as Carya’s message echoed in her ears: Like the Hydra with eternal heads, the rebel spirits shall not subside…

  “We can’t go yet,” said Damian, as if reading her thoughts.

  “Why not?” Hermes swept his arms along his sides. “Look at me, Damian. You’ve done your duty. I can’t deny that what you say about the future is true, but you have my word that I will do my best to squelch this rebellion and secure your planet’s peace.”

  Chloe turned as she heard the drip-drip-drip of melted ice hitting the floor. “We don’t have time to argue with you, Hermes. I’m thrilled you’re with us. I’m thankful to still be alive, but—and I mean no offense—I’m not okay leaving the future of the universe in your hands.”

  Hermes folded his arms and crossed one foot in front of the other, looking at her with that all-too-familiar glint of sass and haughtiness flashing in his eye. “And what, pray tell, is your brilliant plan? You’ve seen firsthand how reasonable my family is.” He rolled his eyes as he removed his dog skin cap and began polishing his wand with its underside. “Did my future self offer you any advice on how best to impede an entire army of heaven’s most pugnacious spirits?”

  “Your future self was afraid we wouldn’t be able to get through to you,” said Chloe. “You’re pretty pugnacious yourself, you know.”

  Hermes smiled down at his fingernails. The drips were becoming more frequent, clanging like cymbals in Chloe’s ears.

  “I wish Medusa was here,” Damian said, looking around at the ice-covered spirits, their faces frozen into masks of implacable rage. “Turning them into stone would’ve been a more permanent solution.”

  “Is Medusa another gifted mortal like yourselves?” Hermes asked.

  “Not exactly,” said Damian. “She was descended from the spirits, actually.”

  Hermes sighed and shook his head at the ceiling. “Mortals and spirits dwelling together… I can’t imagine the chaos that teems in such a world.”

  “You’ll see it with your own eyes if we don’t do something soon,” Damian said. Dark smudges of fatigue and fear had formed half-circles beneath his eyes.

  Hermes clucked his tongue in mock pity. “It’s truly a shame that you weren’t better prepared for this little coup of yours. It’s too bad you didn’t bring more of your kind along. There’s power in numbers, as evidenced by the mass of renegades you see around you.”

  Chloe’s heart leapt. “Damian, let me see the dýnami.”

  He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her. “It’s all yours.” It was the same phrase he used any time she’d asked to use his car and he was feeling generous. “What are you thinking?”

  “Remember what I told Athena, after Carya came to us that day in the backyard?” she said.

  Her words were barely intelligible as they sputtered out like machine-gun fire. A memory was emerging within the foggy recesses of her brain. A few seconds ago, it had been nothing more than a blurry black-and-white photograph, but now it was as vivid as a 3D movie playing in her mind’s eye.

  She had once heard a story in schoo
l about Straton and one of his most powerful domas, which he used for evil. Now, with Duna’s blessing, Chloe could use it for good.

  The dýnami burned in her palm as snapshots of the story flashed inside her head, each one so graphic and lifelike she felt as if she’d been present when the events had happened millennia ago. She saw Straton standing beside Apollo, on top of a lonely, windswept hill. A cold full moon shone overhead. She could hear the quiet roar of the sea somewhere below, hidden beneath layers of marine fog.

  Then her thoughts went black, but only for a moment. The next scene was just the same, only the formerly vacant hill was anything but. It was covered with men, women, teenagers like her, all of them looking confused and sleepy as they eyed their surroundings. They were muttering quietly to themselves.

  “Where am I?”

  “How did I get here?”

  “Is this a dream?”

  When it became apparent that it was no dream, they scattered in search of their families, although, as Chloe knew by instinct, they were all descended from Asher. And that was why they were there.

  Darkness again. She could hear Damian calling her name, but she was too deeply immersed in the vision to snap out of it, let alone answer him. She waited for the next iteration of the scene, but all she perceived were sounds that made every muscle and cell in her body stiffen.

  Gasping…shouting…running…wailing…

  Apollo’s was the only distinguishable voice amid the escalating commotion around her. He was barking orders at Straton: “That one there, she’s getting away.”

  Chloe jumped as she heard a body hit the dirt beside her with a groan, followed by the howl of an arrow flying past. Another victim fell.

  Chloe’s eyes were wide open, but she could still see nothing save the horrors painted by her imagination. She didn’t have to be a detective to deduce that the Ashers had been assembled for slaughter.

  “You’re freaking me out now, Chloe,” said Damian.