“Well, you’re in luck,” the queen said brightly. “Daxos is revered by Heliod. His skills are unequaled in the all the world.”
Daxos frowned at her for her exaggeration.
“Can you raise the river by yourself?” the king asked. He looked at the young man with new interest.
“I’ll have help,” Daxos said. He glared at Cymede, who said nothing. Apparently, she wasn’t going to admit her own awe-inspiring ability to manipulate the elements.
“It’s fine as our killing blow,” Anthousa said. “But it’s not enough. We need a distraction. The minotaurs must be focused on something else until the spell is completed. Or else they might be warned and escape their fortification before the river reaches them.”
A war horn sounded from outside on the balcony. Anax rushed outside, and the rest followed. The beleaguered inhabitants of Akros were spilling into the streets. All eyes were on the heavens, and many people were cheering under the blazing light of Nyx. In the sky there was a brilliant vision of Iroas, the God of Victory. The honorable god was challenging his twin brother, Mogis. The God of Slaughter charged headlong into battle. Just before they clashed, the astral light shifted into chaos again.
“Is the Silence over?” Anthousa asked.
Daxos shook his head. “No, Iroas had challenged Mogis between the pillars,” he said. “He’s furious that the minotaurs would dare to assault his city.”
Anax said. “It’s a sign that I must do the same.”
“Challenge Mogis between the pillars?” Cymede asked sarcastically.
“Challenge the Rageblood instead,” Anax said. “If I could challenge Mogis, I would. I would rather die at his hands than let these brutes hold my city hostage.”
Cymede opened her mouth to speak and then closed it. Anax turned to Daxos.
“You may pursue your course of action,” Anax said. “Raise the river. And I hope you succeed. But I have no choice. I must fight the Rageblood, man against monster.”
While Anax went to his armory to prepare for his duel, Elspeth accompanied Cymede and Daxos down into the tunnels below the Kolophon.
“You’ll work together?” Elspeth said. “Together you can raise the river?”
“That’s the plan,” Daxos said as Cymede jerked open the wooden door onto the sheer drop-off above the river. “Cymede could probably handle it all by herself.”
“Will you act as Anax’s second?” Cymede asked Elspeth. “If he falls in the duel, will you stand in for him?”
“Anthousa would gladly be his second,” Daxos interrupted.
“I’ll do it,” Elspeth assured Cymede. Anthousa had already departed for the camp to warn the Meletian general of their intentions. Anthousa had insisted on a backup plan, just in case the Deyda River failed to engulf the invaders.
“Manipulating the water is going to take some time,” Cymede warned. “We’ll be deep in the gorge, and it won’t happen immediately.”
“I understand,” Elspeth said. “I’ll do my best to help the king. Why did you not tell him of your abilities?”
“Anax is mistrustful of Keranos, and he would not like it if I had power beyond him,” Cymede said.
“Even if it was your own power and not a divine gift?” Daxos said.
“Especially then,” Cymede said.
Cymede turned away from them and walked a few paces back up the tunnel. Elspeth knew the queen was giving her a chance to say good-bye. Daxos stood on the very edge of the cliff and peered down at the torrent of water raging below. Watching him, Elspeth was struck by fear. Fear that she might not see Daxos again.
She tried to say something and stopped. She tried again, but no coherent words would come out. Daxos grinned. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I understand.”
Cymede appeared beside them. “If you’re not going to kiss her, then we should get going.”
Elspeth felt herself blushing as Daxos gave her a quick hug and disappeared down the rope ladder.
“You’re going with the man I love,” Cymede said. “And I’m going with yours.”
Elspeth didn’t argue. “Hopefully you’ll finish it before they ever come to blows. And Cymede, I don’t even know the rules of the duel. If things go badly, I’m happy to break them.”
“And I’ll keep an eye on Daxos for you,” Cymede said. “Don’t wait too long to embrace how you feel for him, Elspeth. Life is short and it’s not worth living with regrets.”
King Anax and his men gathered in the courtyard as the last stars of Nyx flickered above them. Elspeth had volunteered to be the king’s second, but he neither accepted nor refused her offer. The horses stamped impatiently. Behind them, Akros was as still and silent as a catacomb. But the roaring of the minotaur invaders could be heard beyond the majestic walls of the city. It sounded to Elspeth as if they were celebrating a victory that was not yet determined. She marveled again at the inscrutable nature of fate as an attendant adjusted the leather strap on the bridle of Anax’s horse. In the next moments, did it matter what she did? Or was the ending already threaded into the loom of existence? Infinite worlds offer unfathomable possibilities. How could anyone—even gods—turn creation into clockwork?
“The rules of the duel are timeless and irrefutable,” Anax told Elspeth. “Both parties must be allowed to approach the duel unmolested.”
The king sat confidently atop a large black horse with a bronze champron engraved with the king’s crest. His composure was immaculate. Elspeth’s mind flashed to other worlds, other moments just before battle. In particular, she remembered Koth on her last day on Phyrexia. She would never forget his words: “If there is no victory, then I will fight forever.” His composure had been immaculate, too.
There were no crowds to witness the king’s departure—just Elspeth and the handful of soldiers who would ride with him. The king’s guards opened the inner entrance to Lateman’s Gate, which consisted of two iron doors at the end of a reinforced corridor that ran through the thick wall itself. Once they entered, they would follow the torchlit corridor to the outer entrance. Under normal circumstances they would exit onto the open flatlands surrounding the city. Now the door would open onto the invaders between the two sets of walls where they could be easily torn apart by their enemies. Elspeth heard the door clang shut behind them. No matter their welcome from the minotaurs, the city was still sealed off to the enemy.
“The combat ground must be clear and unobstructed, with no chance of ambush or trap,” Anax continued as the horses plodded up the flagstones of the narrow corridor. It was so narrow that the king’s legs almost brushed the rough stone walls. Directly behind him, Elspeth rode uneasily on a borrowed horse. At the end of the corridor, a lone guard prepared to open the outermost entrance of Lateman’s Passage. Rhordon the Rageblood had agreed to fight Anax between the pillars. They were about to find out whether the Rageblood was lying or if he meant to abide by the rules.
“Prior to the duel, priests must consecrate the area as a temenos, a plot of sacred ground. It’s bound by spells so the participants can’t use magic to harm each other,” Anax explained. Explaining the rules of the combat to Elspeth seemed to bring the king comfort. “The Rageblood and I must fight to the death with only physical strength.”
He glanced back at Elspeth. She didn’t respond. She’d made no promises nor was she bound by rules that would let her stand by and watch Anax die. She left herself open to the possibilities determined by the field of battle. Anax slowed his horse when they reached the outer door.
“Your bravery is commendable,” King Anax said to the young guard who had volunteered for the duty of opening the outer door.
“For the glory of Iroas!” the soldier said.
“For the glory of Iroas!” the king responded.
The solider pulled the lever and the gate swung open. Elspeth braced herself for an onslaught of rage. But instead the roars and clanging of weapons fell silent. For a moment, rays of sunlight blinded her. Then she saw that the minotaurs had left a pat
h of clear ground for them. Without hesitation, Anax spurred his horse through the sea of invaders, and Elspeth followed.
The air stank of rotten meat and fresh blood, and Elspeth almost choked. On their left side, there was a mass of Nyxborn minotaurs. They seemed unreal and pristine, as if they were illusions created by a trickster mage. Elspeth wondered if pain would even register in their shadowy brains. On the right side, the mortal minotaurs with their scars and scabs leered at them as they rode by. Many were missing limbs and carried rusty makeshift weapons. They looked stupid and brutal. Which side would be easier to fight? Neither, Elspeth thought. I’d like to fight neither.
Two minotaurs yanked opened the makeshift gate of their fortification, giving Elspeth a clear view of the flatland beyond. Even though it was daytime, Nyx was visible in the sky above the temenos, which had been consecrated for the duel. A shaft of light from Nyx illuminated the spot where the men would fight.
As they rode forward, Anax spoke to Elspeth again. “Once the duel begins, if either opponent steps out of the consecrated ground, he is forfeit and considered a coward. At no time may anyone accept aid from his patron god.”
The Meletian soldiers were amassed along the far side of the combat ground. They were accompanied by dozens of centaur warriors, who had arrived to offer aid to Akros. Elspeth couldn’t see Anthousa from this distance, but if she followed the plan, Anthousa should be on the left flank with the rest of the warriors from Setessa. Elspeth surveyed the combined armies. There were fewer soldiers than she expected. Maybe it was because they were spread out across open ground compared to the fortification where the minotaurs were packed together. But if fighting broke out, their side didn’t have advantage in numbers.
There was movement at the northern edge of the combat ground, and Elspeth saw Rhordon the Rageblood for the first time. The Rageblood was a huge minotaur with a broken horn and a blood-caked sword. He was bigger and heavier than the others—a giant among his kind. He wore primitive armor fashioned from bone plating and tattered hides.
Anax turned to look at Elspeth. “An opponent may choose to name a second to continue his fight if he falls. I have named you, Elspeth the Hydra Killer. Do you accept?”
“I will fight if you need me,” Elspeth said. She carefully avoided “accepting” anything, just in case that mystically bound her to the rules.
As the king dismounted, Rhordon bellowed a thunderous war cry that echoed across the valley. Elspeth thought of Daxos and Cymede in the gorge preparing their massive spell—the triumph over the elements that would end this all. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder at the invaders’ fortification. Thankfully, they had closed the gate again. The minotaurs had constructed a few platforms along the top of their wall. These were packed with watchers, but the vast majority of their enemies remained on the ground behind their wall—in the direct path of the diverted river, if all went well. Elspeth slid to the ground and let another soldier take the reins of her horse.
On the other side of the Nyx-enclosed ground, the Rageblood stamped and roared impatiently. His size was staggering. He must have stood eight feet tall, and that was hunched over. His horns could gut a man, and his bloody sword gleamed with infernal fire. Anax looked small—Anax was small—compared to the monster.
Elspeth looked the king in the eye. “He’s nothing compared to you,” she said.
The king drew his kopis, a single-edged sword with a curved blade. He stood directly across from the Rageblood. The light from Nyx bathed them both in a strange blue glow. An eerie chime rang across the flatlands, and the enemies stepped onto the battlefield.
Near its surface, the rushing water of the Deyda River was deafening. Daxos had never been so close to the river, and as he stood just inches above its raging power, he was more intimidated than when they’d faced the hydra. Cymede had created rock ledges for them to stand across from each other. He was doing his best to aid her in raising the flow of water rushing below him. But his arms ached, his legs shook, and it felt as though all the energy had drained out of his body.
Spellcasting for Cymede was no passive thing. He watched her with amazement as she arched and turned and bent her arms. He could feel the energy cascading off her and mingling with the ferociousness of the water. His own magic was much quieter and more passive. Rather than match her style, he needed to do this his own way. Daxos crouched down on the ledge, soaked and shivering from the spray, and looked for a quiet place inside his mind so he could join with Cymede.
Finally, he could feel the origin of the river far away in the mountains. He achieved a sense of its wellspring, on the far side of the known world. He could see how it bubbled out of the ground, just a trickle of water, and gained strength with every passing mile. With his heightened senses, he could perceive the fierce jagged edges of Cymede’s spell. He merged them with the smooth curves of his own magic. And where the two met, the river began to rise.
His concentration consumed him. But on the edges of his consciousness, he was aware that Cymede kept raising their makeshift ledges to keep pace with the rising water. The top of the gorge—and the ominous roiling sky—was getting closer. Soon, the effort became painful, and all he could do was endure it. He could feel tears opening in the pathways of his brain. Veins of blackness—not a void, but something more sinister—began to cloud his vision. He heard his mother’s voice: How could you leave me alone?
The ledge tipped sideways, and Daxos tumbled over, nearly slipping into the churning water. Cymede moved for him as her slab of stone expanded to become a bridge across the expanse. He met her at the center, and she steadied him. The top of the gorge was only ten feet away.
“Hold steady,” she ordered him. “We’re taking too long.”
“I don’t know if I can,” he said.
“Then seek Heliod,” she said.
“He won’t break the Silence,” Daxos said. “Of all the gods, he won’t be the one who breaks it.”
“If your god won’t, then mine will,” she said. “You’ll have to bear the weight of the river and give me time. Can you do it, for Elspeth?”
Daxos wasn’t sure how much more he could withstand, but he motioned for her to do what she needed to do. Cymede lifted her face to the sky. When her attention left the river, he felt intense pressure, like the hand of a god pressing against him, trying to grind his bones to dust. He frantically cast stabilizing magic to maintain the spell. He was no longer trying to raise the river—just keep it in place while the queen implored Nyx for aid.
“Keranos!” Cymede screamed. “Help us! Help me save Akros, and I’ll give myself to you. I am yours to claim.”
Anax’s blade sliced through the flesh on the Rageblood’s arm. It was a superficial wound but still drew first blood. The minotaur slashed his stolen blade through the air wildly, but Anax dodged. Anax baited his enemy first left, then right. He was quicker than his opponent, but the Rageblood seemed to be getting angrier rather than tired from the sword play.
The minotaur brought his sword directly down, as if to split Anax’s head in half. Again the king sidestepped, and Rhordon’s blade hit the ground and lodged in the dirt. The minotaur left it there and went after the king with his meaty hands. Anax kept his strategy, but he aimed for the bull man’s extremities. A master of sword play, the king struck at the muscular legs, dodged, and then circled around and struck low again.
Anax’s blade hit flesh repeatedly, and the blood gushed from the gashes. It ran in rivulets down Rhordon’s legs and onto the ground, and Elspeth could tell that Anax was beginning to feel invincible. He was trying to hit the perfect spot, maybe at the back of the ankle or below the knee, and sever the tendon. This might incapacitate the minotaur, but Elspeth didn’t think it would ensure victory. Even dragging a leg, the Rageblood could still crush Anax’s skull between his fingers.
Elspeth’s eyes constantly shifted from the combat ground to the minotaur’s fortification to Anthousa and her allies waiting on the flatlands. She could see th
e left flank of soldiers was—as planned—slowly moving closer to them, like the top half of a crab’s pincer. Anthousa herself led the slow-motion charge. There were minotaurs watching from their wall, but they faced away from Anthousa’s soldiers and were focused on the combat. So far, not one of them had noticed the humans’ gradual approach.
The Rageblood was getting frustrated with the quick-footed antics of the king of Akros. He barreled at him mindlessly and ran into the trap that Anax had planned. With a deft motion, Anax cut deep into the flesh of the minotaur’s leg and severed the tendon below the knee. The Rageblood roared in pain and fell to one knee. The minotaurs watching from the walls clamored in anger and shouted a warning to the hordes waiting below. The gate of their fortification rattled. Elspeth feared that if they knew their leader was losing, they would leave their fortification and attack the humans outside their walls. Then Cymede and Daxos’s work would be for nothing.
Desperately, she looked toward Deyda River, hoping for a miracle. But there was no sign of her friends or the torrent of water they hoped to raise from the gorge. With a sick feeling, Elspeth raised a hand in signal to Anthousa. But abruptly, the sky over Akros darkened from blue to deep purple. It was so dramatic that everyone could feel a change in the air as the temperature plummeted. Black clouds descended toward the Deyda River. Pockets of light shone through the thick layers of roiling clouds. The shifting sky revealed the face of Keranos.
Except for the pillar of light shining down on Anax and the Rageblood, Keranos’s storm clouds had transformed the day into night. Mogis materialized in Nyx, but he was visible only to oracles with god-sight. Sensing the presence of Keranos, Mogis gave a boon to the Rageblood. The God of Slaughter healed his oracle’s severed leg and infused him with violence beyond what a mortal alone could conjure. Anax, who had raised his sword to finish the Rageblood, didn’t have time to swing his weapon before the healed minotaur lunged forward and clamped his hands around the king’s throat. Elspeth, who could not see Mogis directly, sensed his interference.
Journey Into Nyx Page 7
