Beware the Fallen: Young Adult Mythology (Banished Divinity Book 1)

by Logan Delayne

  “So soon?”

  My father would, of course, have sent them on a god-wind. An owl flew up to land on the ledge of the balcony. It was large for an owl, at least twice the size of any I had seen before. Its feathers were a crisp white dotted with black. I had no friends in the castle, so I went and grabbed some of my meal that was untouched and brought it to the bird. “Here.”

  The owl took it and shredded the meat before eating it. He looked at me expectantly and I smiled.

  But my eye was drawn to the waves. “My father would come all of this way for me after he was the one who sent me here? He could withdraw the banishment at any time.” I leaned on the ledge and the owl moved close enough that I could pet its breast. “What game are you playing, Father?”

  “A very poor one, indeed,” a familiar voice said, and I spun to the owl.

  “Sister!”

  “Are you daft?” she called from behind me and I whirled around.

  “You thought I was the owl?” Her soft voice spoke from deep inside the hood she wore. Pushing back the cowl to reveal herself, she held her arms out. “Come to me sister. Please tell me you are not abused.”

  I rushed forward no matter the feelings I may have had earlier. I ran into her arms as if she were the elder, and she wrapped me tightly in a hug. We both cried and then laughed at how the owl watched us.

  “He is pretty. A mighty owl if ever I saw one.”

  I giggled. “He is preening. You flatter him so.” But alarm gripped me when I realized what danger Cenia was in. “You should go. Leave this place.”

  “It’s you who is banished.” She tossed her golden hair, as brazenly as ever.

  “Sister.” I grasped her hands tightly until she pulled away to rub the marks I left. “I’m sorry, but the god-king, you don’t understand. It was you whom he wanted, and he was thwarted by our father.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, smiling like a cat with a canary in its throat. “I know. He demanded already that father send me instead. A trade, he called it.”

  Curiosity stiffened my spine, and I craned my neck. “You’ve seen him?”

  Her eyes were round with surprise. “You have not?” And then she smiled again, happy in my ignorance.

  “Tell me,” I said thickly, my throat tight with suspicion. “Why are you here?”

  “Father sends me. Well, not exactly. The god-king does indeed want me, but father won’t give in. Instead, he is seeking to destroy the king, and mother and I made a blade enchanted to kill him. He would never expect it from you.” She laughed haughtily, withdrawing a beautiful bejeweled dagger, and handed it to me. It glowed in my hands. Her gaze was wicked, and she licked her lips. “Thrust this into his heart, sister, and you will be free. You’ve never missed your mark before. May your aim be true.”

  She kissed my cheek and then my sister was gone.

  The door flew open, but Arman was just a man. My speed was too fast for a human eye as I pushed the blade between my breasts, its sheath protecting me from being cut.

  With it there against my skin, I felt the enchantment nearly burning me.

  I knew my sister had not lied.

  This blade would kill the god-king and I would be free.

  Arman was frantic. He told me to take what I could and that we would leave the castle in darkness.

  “Why would you not stand your guard here in the castle? Where is your king?”

  “My king has many castles; this is merely the one closest to the shore. The heart of the island must be protected, and I cannot leave you here unguarded and return to my post. You will come with me.”

  Truly I could do as I wished. Perhaps I could overthrow Arman and be free. His piercing gaze read me like a book.

  “Your word was given, goddess. Do not do anything you might regret.”

  I touched my chest just above the blade and stared him down, even though he was a head taller than me. “Will I be brought to the king then?”

  “Yes.”

  Then it was good that I would go with him. Perhaps I could carry out the orders of my family then and be finished with this island.

  Watching Arman’s back as we moved through the castle, I did think about how there was one person who I would miss when I returned home. He had been kind to me even in the face of me killing his soldier.

  “Shouldn’t I have my own horse?”

  Arman wasted no time arguing with me and pulled me astride Barron.

  He was in such a hurry, that I hadn’t a moment to fix my robes before we galloped out of barns at a neck breaking speed.

  The robes lifted and flew back, baring my legs to all who would see. I clung to Barron’s mane as he sped up in a frantic run, eating up the earth with his hooves. He was not afraid. I sensed his battle cry within his heart, and it was the only warning I would have before it all came crashing down.

  “A trap!” I cried—one step too late.

  In the woods near the village, a rope had been strung from tree to tree. It unfairly caught Barron’s neck and not our own, throwing the large beast end over end.

  I heard the snapping of the beautiful horse’s back as we crashed into the ground. Unharmed due to my divinity, I felt along the floor of the forest in a moonless night to find Arman on his side. His breathing was rasping and shallow.

  A tang caught the back of my throat, and the smell of blood was strong enough that I gagged on it.

  “Arman,” I said. “Arman?” I asked again, pushing him onto his back.

  The blood poured from his mouth. I could feel it, wet and sticky on his lips. “Ru…” he whispered. “Run, Freya.” His hand gently touched my face.

  “These are my father’s people.”

  His gaze was sad when he said, “Your father does not fight for you, Freya. You are still banished. These men…” He coughed. “They would only harm you or take what they will.”

  “Please. Stay.”

  He shook his head, his eyes losing focus. “Go.”

  The life left him so swiftly. Just like the man in the waves.

  I scrambled backwards from his lifeless body, blood staining my dress and sticking it to my legs.

  Again. Again, I had killed another man.

  It was my father who’d sent this trap—his long reach through the men he governed. The hooves of many horses came thundering through the clearing, and I scrambled to hide myself behind a tree. I realized that my glowing skin was no type of camouflage, but the earth was wet and muddy from recent rain.

  Digging some of it up, I pressed it to my skin, and covered myself, even my face. If I closed my eyes, it might be enough. The moon did not shine and therefore my powers might seem duller, and beneath the mud, perhaps I could hide.

  It would seem safe to go to my father’s men and turn myself in, but I was still banished for a reason, they were not here for me… but for blood. And they were human. I thought of the people begging and their faces slack with awe. I pictured the men becoming crazed with greed, smothering me with adoration or worse, lusting for me as all humans would with a goddess at their mercy.

  Aside from Arman.

  My heart wept where my eyes could not. It would wash away the mud and the tracks would glow once more.

  I waited, holding my breath, as the men searched where Arman had fallen.

  They left, and I fled through the forest towards the west.

  Chapter 4

  I knew that I could crush the skulls of men with the flick of my wrist, but I sensed a greater power within the woods than man alone.

  Swift as a fawn and as light of foot, I stole through the forest as easy as moonlight sifted through the leaves. A sylph, barely there in my darkness, this was my element and I was like a shadow, passing through all the various battles unnoticed.

  The men of the island, people who had bowed to me before, were fierce as wolves in their fight. I watched them rend and cleave my father’s men with their swords. They were honorable, fighting for their lands and homes. Their faces were brutality incarnate.<
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  Whispering on the wind, I could aid them. But which side was my side?

  If my father’s men won, surely, I’d be abused by them before returned, if not kept as a charm for their hard-won war. If the island’s men won, I would be returned to my prison. Evermore.

  Through the blood that splashed across my hiding place, I saw a truth hanging in the air. My battle was not here, it was with the son of Acheron. The god-king himself.

  My only true freedom was to find him and dispatch him quickly and to return to my home.

  His power, I sensed as a beacon. So I began my search deeper into the heart of the island.

  A clearing appeared before me, graced by moonlight. I glanced up at my grandmother’s watchful eye. It reminded me that I could be in my family’s good graces once again. If I had the mettle to follow through with the plan to use the dagger in the king’s heart, Cenia and I would be in our halls together again.

  And there, a fallen soldier’s mount stood in the center of the clearing. He was white as bone but for a smear of blood along his arched neck, and his sides heaved from running.

  Approaching carefully, I reached for his bridle. Deep in my throat, I made cooing sounds and tried to steady the animal. His gray eyes looked right through me, and he stood perfectly still.

  Gathering up my robes, I mounted the war-horse and tried to remember to do as Arman had, but gently.

  I’d barely sat straight in the saddle before the animal shot forward like an arrow from a bowstring.

  Crying out, I latched onto his mane and leaned forward, flattening myself along his back as the trees tore at my robes and hair and cut my face. I touched a hand to my cuts and realized that I was weakened.

  The dagger!

  Somehow, it had drained my powers, and I was bleeding from the scratches like a mortal. They were not healing with the swiftness I was used to.

  Still, the animal galloped onward as if it knew the destination.

  The stallion found a pathway with less trees, and I could sit properly once again.

  Shouts behind us made it clear that we were not alone.

  The horse sped up as a fallen tree trunk ahead drew near. Even before I felt the animal bunch up his muscles, I was gasping with fear. He bounded high, leaping into the air to clear the stump, but I was falling…falling still, and when I landed on the ground, it was not as before with Barron.

  I laid on the forest floor, the stars high above me, and I could scarcely catch my breath.

  “Here she is!” a deep voice boomed, and hands too large to be human cupped my waist, lifting me as if I were a sack of grain.

  A man—no—giant, hefted me onto his shoulders in a dizzying move.

  When he spun, my hair fanned out around us in a flutter, like a dark waterfall.

  My breath returned, and I focused myself. Placing my hands along his back, I pushed from my center, using what power I still had, until the giant growled and threw me down.

  Thrice I’d been thrown to the forest floor. Thrice I’d landed with a bone-jarring crash. My body was beginning to weaken even more.

  I had no time to see to my injuries. My shoulder remained limp at my side. My nose was wet with what I could only imagine was my blood. Still, I scrambled backwards from the giant who reached for me and rose to my feet.

  Taking position, I stood once more on my shaking legs.

  “If you think me ignorant of the ways of battle, giant, then it will be your last mistake.”

  His eyes were as red as the fire of Hades, and his brow shelved over them forcing all but the glow into shadow. He wore animal fur and was like a beast himself.

  I gaped at him. “A demi-god?”

  He grinned.

  “My father won’t stand for this,” I said, but he only sneered.

  “Your father has offered you to me should I pluck the head from that traitor’s neck. The son of Acheron will fall tonight. And you will be in my bed before the sun rises.”

  I swallowed but stiffened my spine.

  The monster brought out an axe that was twice as long as my body. He would kill me if he could not have me. Or at least wound me greatly. He would not know that I was weakened and would not heal. He could not know that his axe perhaps would cleave me in two at this moment because of the blade between my breasts.

  With my knees bent, I focused on my training. I had spent much of my life alone but studying the art of war was always important to a goddess who would like to be useful. My family had all fought against Olympians or competed in games. I had wanted to please them so I took it upon myself to study and practice combat.

  The axe swung down, and I leapt out of the way. My hands were not like human hands. They would be as granite, even to a demigod.

  While the ax was buried in the earth, I struck out at the chest of the giant with both palms and was glad to see him fall backwards, nearly stumbling to the ground.

  The axe swung again, horizontally.

  I dove to the ground, flattening myself just before it sliced me open.

  While there on the forest floor, I realized that I would not win this contest with the weakening of my powers. I withdrew the blade from my breast, and even though it would do well to harm the demi-god, it would not bear weight against the axe. My returned powers might be enough instead.

  I threw the blade off into the forest, willing it to be hidden.

  Immediately my powers healed my injuries as they were minor, and the thrill of having them returned made me shiver. A new and fresh glow burst through the mud, cleansing my skin and clothing.

  The blood and the mud fell from me as I rose to face the giant anew.

  With the pads of my fingers pressed together, I closed my eyes.

  The giant laughed at what must’ve appeared to be my surrender.

  Then he stopped laughing as the earth shook with my fury.

  Like my father, I could summon the human will within him. He was too weak to deny me.

  The axe was plucked from his fingers as if a child’s toy and his body laid out in prostration before my place. The giant bowed to me against his mighty struggle. The humans who were with him, watched us warily, fear etched deeply upon their faces.

  My glare sent them running.

  “Forgive me, goddess,” the giant wept.

  I watched him laying still at my feet for a long moment before I touched his neck and then pressed.

  His neck gave beneath my pressing until I nearly touched the earth, and the forest quieted once more. His head was at an impossible angle, the giant would be on his way to judgement now.

  I retrieved my blade from the place where I had thrown it just in time to see a rider coming silently through the brush.

  Without even seeing his face hidden deep within a hood, I knew his power.

  And he knew mine.

  “Ascalaphus,” I whispered and the hooded figured jerked the reins and turned towards my place in the trees.

  He stayed in his dark cloak as he dismounted, moving his head about as if sniffing me out like a hound. My wounds had healed, and my power shrouded me, but he seemed to follow his senses right to where I’d been before.

  But I had moved quietly, scaling the tree to the middle branch where I could watch from above. If I were to face the infamous and rebellious son of Acheron, I would like to see his face before I ended him.

  However, his patience was tremendous. Standing beneath my tree, he waited.

  His horse pawed the earth, but he made a motion and the animal trotted away.

  As if I would hurt his horse. I was wounded at the thought that he’d think me so low.

  Shame reddened my cheeks when I realized that the trap before that had brought the mighty Barron down and his thoughtful and brave rider Arman, had been set by my father’s people. The king must think me as deviant as my father’s men.

  A desperate sprite from his enemy’s land.

  But he had wanted my sister.

  He had wanted her.

  Studying combat
taught me a great many things, but this one was the truest of them all. He was a god, but he was a male. He wanted a female. And here I was with a great weapon other than the dagger. Cenia’s blood flowed through my veins.

  I closed my eyes and pictured her glowing face. Her golden eyes and hair, and her satiny skin. When I opened them, I saw that the god-king’s face was pointed, though in shadow, directly at me.

  I could hide no longer now that I was a beacon of the sun.

  “Come down,” he said quietly, and his voice rang with something I could not decipher.

  Checking to make sure I had the blade, I did as he asked.

  Carefully and slowly, I slid down until I was on my feet.

  I’d lost my shoes, and my robes were torn. I was a wanton figure for him and the pleasure that must’ve been stamped across his features, I could not see still because of the cloak.

  His mystery was his own weapon and enchantment.

  “I have come to save my sister,” I said in Cenia’s voice.

  He made a noise of irritation but again, his patience was tremendous. He stood completely still, waiting for my game to unfold.

  If I were Cenia, I would haughtily tell him to do as I bade, but since I was not Cenia, but merely the image of my golden sister, I would be a version of her that was much wiser instead.

  I bowed to my knees and tipped my head. “Ascalaphus, son of Acheron, god-king of the Seven Islands, and lord of men and gods alike, please, I beg of you.” Pressing mud within my hands I turned it to a shell and revealed it to him. “Here is the returned shell from your shores. Stop this war. I am yours. I offer myself to you.”

  Cold fingers wrapped around my wrist and it startled me that he had moved as quietly as a shade. Fear threatened to undo the enchantment that had carefully crafted Cenia’s lips and eyes and lilting voice instead of my own.

  I thought he was overwhelmed with the offer and my fear was that he’d want to take Cenia right here for his, but instead, Ascalaphus shook me like a dog with a bone, lifting me to my feet.

  His anger vibrated down his arm. He threw me against the tree trunk again and again until it cracked behind me