Chapter 43 Caelus
Caelus
“A messenger! A messenger comes!” a scout shouted as he sprinted back to the bulk of our forces.
He pulled up short, wary of Lykos’ enormous snow-white paws, removed his helm, tucked it under his arm, and looked up.
And up. And up. All the way to where I sat, cinched into the harness atop my giant wolf’s back.
The scout gulped, shielding his eyes from the glare of Helios’ sun at its zenith, and explained. “Two black-shrouded figures are headed this way. They appear to be men, though it’s hard to say from a distance. They also appear unarmed, but—”
“But that means nothing when our foes consist of turncoat Olympians, overzealous Titans, and pets from the abyss,” I finished with a snarl.
The scout nodded with a quick grimace, his gilded armour and arm bands glinting as he moved.
Say what you want about Hermes, but his people are fast. And they’ve got style, I commented, noting the symbol emblazoned across his cuirass in the shape of the thief god’s talaria.
“You’re one of Aelia’s men?” I asked the mortal.
The scout nodded. “Yes, my lord. Meleager’s my name.” He dipped his head in a graceful bow then lifted his helm from beneath his right arm. “If you don’t need me for anything else…?”
“No. Thank you, Meleager. We’ll take it from here.”
He nodded, shoved the blue-plumed helmet back on his sweating face, and took off in the opposite direction.
Interesting fellow, Lykos commented.
Don’t get too attached.
The wolf snorted, followed up quickly by a dainty sneeze, the likes of which I’d never heard from my overly serious lapdog.
Not a word, he growled, sending vibrations up my spine, causing an involuntary twitch as it somehow tickled the base of my skull.
Wouldn’t dream of it. I laughed, then spotted the aforementioned cloaked figures waiting halfway across the field, and instantly sobered.
Messengers below you, Nightshade. We’re on our way across now.
Noted. They’re alone, but that doesn’t mean something isn’t afoot. We’ll keep watch from above. If they so much as point at you, Velira says she’ll bite their fingers clean off. If they even have them.
Tell Velira I’m touched by her benevolence.
Nyssa snorted. Please. She’s as possessive as I am, and we happen to have taken a liking to you both.
Oh, a liking, hey? I smirked. How blessed we both are, then, to have captured the attentions of a Queen and her dragon.
I felt her mental eye-roll, and it split my face into a wide grin.
You may have captured my attention first, but then you hijacked my fate, sealing the deal.
And yet, you don’t seem too unhappy about that decision.
That's because I’m not. I wouldn’t have it any other way, Golden. I’m just glad that in a room filled with a thousand different threads — a thousand different possibilities — you chose to bind yourself to mine.
About time you realised we were inevitable, Nyss. It was never going to end any other way than the two of us together. And one day, I’ll ensure you remember why.
That piqued her curiosity.
There are some things I have yet to admit — but first, I must deal with this pair of worms.
Her presence retreated, though I could still feel it lingering at the back of my mind, waiting for things to unfold, removing the need to relay information which could be a time-critical delay.
“State your names, pass along your message, then begone, the both of you,” I growled down to them.
The figure on the left drew back his hood, revealing a familiar crop of ginger hair and suntanned skin. The second did the same, uncovering a mane the exact same shade.
Twins in every sense of the word.
Two faces I never thought to see on this particular field of battle — especially not on the side of evil. Two faces who were currently supposed to be somewhere else, doing a very important job.
Aros and Evie… both had personally vouched for the duo in front of me. For before me, stood their siblings: Phobos and Deimos. The gods of fear and terror.
Tartarus, Nyssa cursed. Does that mean…?
Probably.
Their slimy smirks peered up at me from beneath short, crudely hacked hair.
“You’re not where I left you.” My eyes narrowed on the pair, flicking between each of them, paying particular note of their hands for any sign of foul play.
“Relaaaaax, Zeusy Junior,” Phobos crooned. “We’re here under strict orders to convey a message. That’s all.”
“However,” Deimos added. “We’re also under strict orders to retaliate if attacked first.” He grinned, lifting a hand slowly and twirling his fingers like he was unveiling some parlour trick, only to inspect his manicure.
“What message?” I growled.
“May I?” Phobos queried, pointing at the pocket of his cloak.
I jerked a terse nod. “Don’t do anything stupid, Bobo.” The mention of his much-loathed nickname — the name Aros had called him as a child, too small to pronounce ‘Phobos’ properly, that stuck as Aros grew, much to Phobos’ eternal detestation — riled him exactly as intended.
The god of fear scowled as he jammed his hand into his pocket and retrieved something small, thin, and black. He tossed it up to me and I flinched, fearing the worst. Like a snake. Or a wreath of poison.
He snickered as the thing landed in my lap.
“Why do you have this?” I asked quietly, picking up the length of hair, twisted neatly into a braid that bore a small silver bead at the end.
“You know why,” he sneered. “Tell Artemis we have her. And if she ever wants to see her precious daughter again, she’ll join us instead.”
“What do you want with Artemis?”
“Aside from a legendary huntress who could shoot your precious bird down with a single arrow from a hundred yards out?” Deimos smirked as his eyes flicked toward the sky. “Nothing much, really. Just to destabilise your whole outfit, one god at a time.”
“I take it you let Poseidon out of his cage, then?”
“Aye,” Deimos grunted. “Stupid prick hightailed it out of there as soon as we turned our backs, even after swearing up and down he’d join Kronos.”
I scoffed. “You were fools for letting him out considering your resident lord of light murdered thousands of Poseidon’s own people and wiped an entire city off the map.”
They exchanged a look of surprise, obviously having not even considered that integral fact.
Idiots.
Well, they are Ares’ spawn, Lykos drawled.
So is Aros and he’s not like this.
Aros is his mother’s son. Bia was a brilliant warrior — strong of both mind and heart.
You knew her, I breathed.
I did. Once upon a time.
“Are you ill of mind?” Phobos spat. “You look like you’re having a seizure up there on that giant, furred horse of yours.”
“Say that to his face. You’ll quickly find out how sharp this horse’s claws can be.”
“Horses don’t have claws,” Deimos frowned.
“You fool, of course they don’t,” Phobos snarled. “He’s insinuating that it’s not a horse at all.”
“Oh.”
“You’ve passed on your message — now leave,” I bellowed, startling both.
“She has until sundown to decide,” Phobos called as he backed away. “Or he’ll kill the girl.”
I swore. Nyssa echoed the sentiment.
Lykos pivoted, sprinting back towards the rows of restless warriors.
To their credit, they did not flinch at the sight of a giant wolf running at them — though, some closed their eyes — but Lykos changed direction at the last second.
Huffs of relief were audible as we passed, which was vaguely amusing — running up the line of them instead.
He darted all the way to the left-most flank, where Artemis, Apollo, and the other archers waited for the order to strike.
Before he’d even had time to fully stop, I’d leapt off his back, landed in a crouch by his paws, then ran the rest of the way over to the questioning Olympians.
Artemis took one look at my face, at my eyes that struggled to hold to hers, and her expression slackened. “Tell me.”
My lips parted, but no words tumbled out. How does one tell a mother that her daughter would die if she didn’t surrender to her most powerful, most hated enemy?
“Tell me,” she repeated, softer, as the rim of her midnight coloured eyes filled with tears.
I held out Phobos’ gift, inexplicably captivated by the way the sunlight reflected the silver bead’s arrow symbol across my palm.
The goddess snatched the braid out of my hand, clutching it tightly to her chest. “Explain,” she rasped.
“They have her.” Artemis' expression fractured as I continued, “Kronos and Hyperion and whoever else they have hiding in that army of theirs. They have Diana. And they say they’ll kill her unless you surrender to them. Swear your allegiance to them.”
“No,” she gasped. Apollo caught her as her knees buckled, lowering them both to the ground.
Velira landed just behind Lykos, stirring up the earthen field, and Nyssa departed almost as quickly as I had.
“Go,” was all she said.
“I have already sworn my oaths,” Artemis murmured. “To you.”
“I seem to recall you leaving a small amount of wiggle room in that oath,” Nyssa said, pointedly raising one ebony brow above the line of red silk tied across her face.
“Only if I did not believe you were acting in the best interests of the realms. How can I deny that? You would willingly die for them… for us all.”
“There was a little more to it than that, Lady Huntress.”
Artemis’ brow puckered as she tried and failed to remember her exact wording.
Nyssa saved her the effort. “You swore your allegiance on the condition that you believed me to be acting on the best interests of the realms and your people.” Her expression softened.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but Diana is your people — and by me choosing to continue fighting this fight, it puts her at risk. ”
“Therefore, not in her best interest,” Artemis whispered. Hope dawned on her then and she clambered to her feet. Before Nyssa could even think to react, she was the recipient of a suffocating embrace, the likes of which I’d never seen Artemis administer. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. This means we may yet meet each other on the field of battle, and I’d rather not go up against your bow if I can help it.”
“Don’t worry, it’s poor conditions for shooting.” She winked, gesturing at the clear blue skies, not a hint of a breeze on the horizon.
Nyssa grasped the back of Artemis’ head, dragging her in until their foreheads met. “Be safe, shoot straight, and get the hell out of there with Diana as soon as you’re able to.”
“Yes, my queen. I won’t forget this — not for as long as I live.”
“I hope for both our sakes that is still a very long time.”
Artemis laughed. “As do I.”
They parted and she immediately embraced her brother, quickly signing a message that was just for the two of them.
I looked north towards the writhing blackness of Kronos’ army, giving them a moment of privacy, and when I turned back around, Apollo was holding Artemis’ bow as she slung a quiver of silver arrows over her head.
She reached for the bow, held it thoughtfully for a heartbeat, then turned and passed it to Aphrodite who hovered on the periphery of our circle.
“Me?” she stuttered.
Artemis nodded. “You’ve put the work in. You’re good.” My brows shot up my forehead and I felt Nyssa’s keen surprise filter in. “There’s no one else I’d trust with her. Besides” — she shrugged — “it will be much harder for me to shoot you all down without a bow.”
I’m sure they can find you a bow, Apollo signed, though his lips tugged up at the corners.
Perhaps. But not one made with a goddess in mind. She winked.
And after taking a handful of steadying breaths, the goddess of the hunt began picking her way across the field that would soon become a tapestry of black, red, and gold — and she did not look back.
I stepped up to Nyssa’s side, entwining her fingers with my own.
“Nike?” she asked.
The goddess of victory joined us, sans her usual golden laurel wreath. “It is done,” she said. “My wreath has been buried, my favour granted, this battlefield blessed.”
“Let us hope it is enough,” Nyssa murmured, tilting her face to the warmth of the sun.
“And so it begins,” I murmured.
“And so it begins,” she echoed.