16 #4
If Morrigan had never called in a favor.
If he hadn’t seen my knee joint get damaged during the first trial.
If he’d stuck to his gods damned, miles-long list, Daedalus would still be safe and alive.
His family would be safe. Now he’s dead and they have no one to shield them from the vengeful divine who might ruin them – not because they should, but because they can.
August helps me stand and the colosseum thunders. The sand quakes from the sound.
Just then, Torsten and his friends arrive. They roar and bellow, congratulating one another for surviving. “Cham-pi-oned!”– they chant, encouraging the crowd to follow, fists pumping in time with the broken syllables.
When they’re met with a weak response, their hands fall.
The large unchampioned group rushes from their portal and floods the sand between us and Torsten’s alliance. All their clothes are stained with sweat, grit, and grime, but some of them are soaked with blood, and lots of it. I’m not sure whose.
They don’t celebrate.
Two of the men crash knees-first onto the arena floor. I can’t tell if they’re hurt or exhausted.
The middle-aged woman who finished the first trial with August holds a girl who wails and does not stop wailing.
What happened to them? If my math is right, twelve of them went into the trial together. Only nine returned.
Their golden slab dims and deactivates. Only the fourth and final portal still glows.
Taeniset and Akira are still in the labyrinth; Isis’s and Susanoo’s mortals. Is that whose screams Daedalus silenced? Or did those come from the three unchampioned who fell today?
All we can do is watch for them and hope the swirling portal and the fact that Hermes hasn’t announced a winner, means they’re still alive.
Several long moments pass before ripples form and spread over the rich surface like it’s a placid pond instead of a gateway.
Then with a gritting cry, golden-armored Taeniset drags Akira into the arena by her wrists. When Akira’s feet are clear of the portal, she lets go, panting, and crashes to her knees next to her fallen friend.
Akira is pale. Agony twists her features. She breathes shallowly, holding her stomach so nothing spills out of it. If the gods don’t heal her, she’ll die from a wound like that.
The throng goes quiet. Hands cover mouths. Mothers shield the eyes of their squirming, curious children. Though I’m not sure why they bother after what they just let them watch.
Susanoo appears, already kneeling beside the girl.
His mighty knee craters the dirt in a way a mortal body could never.
He places a tender, weathered hand on her wound and whispers a single word, instantly washing her pain away in a cleansing tide.
He cranes his head to the golden viewing box where the gods and goddesses wait and stare, a question on his brow.
Can he heal her? Is it within the rules and his rights as her champion?
His shoulders cave when he gets his answer. Susanoo rises and leaves Akira in the sand to die.
Taeniset doesn’t immediately understand his refusal to break the rules to save her friend. She stands and takes a step when he does to mirror his movement. “Stop.”
Another step mirrored. “Where are you going?”
“Susanoo, please. Don’t turn your back on her.” Taeniset begs the Japanese sea god. Blood streaks her armor, coats the wings of Isis engraved on it. “You can heal her!”
He can. We all know he can. But he won’t.
“It’s against the rules.” He turns to leave.
“Since when?” she demands.
He takes another step.
“The rules be damned!” she shrills. “Akira made it back here, just as Torsten did.” Taeniset is livid, pointing at Akira, demanding he help. “She survived. This isn’t fair! She’s still alive and you can help her. Why won’t you help her?”
Susanoo’s broad shoulders tense at her tone, at her insistence.
The once gentle breeze strengthens, dragging its claws through his long hair.
His hands form fists at his side. He wants to heal Akira.
Under any other circumstance, I think he’d do exactly that.
But this isn’t his game. He only elected to play it.
Susanoo bows in silent apology to the golden, bloody, heartbroken girl – something I’ve never witnessed a god do, not even proud Morrigan – then takes slow, difficult steps away from her and his mortal.
He disappears, ending the trail of footsteps he pressed into the sand.
Taeniset stares slack-jawed at the space he just occupied. She returns to Akira, sinking to her knees and taking hold of her friend’s hand. Akira’s eyes peacefully blink at the clouds. Ones that look more like waves carrying sea foam than water vapor.
While Susanoo couldn’t save her, he gave her a painless transition from life into death.
Tears fall from Taeniset’s angry eyes as she draws Akira’s hand to her heart. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Akira’s breaths slow. Her grip loosens on Taeniset’s hand. Her eyes stop blinking. Chest stops rising. Her lips part with her final breath.
A mourning cry tears from Taeniset as she sinks farther into the sand, defeated.
The gods don’t care if we die here. They aren’t even moved when we grieve.
It’s what they want.