“To the north, my sweet, there is an old village with a granary. Meet me there.”
Looking about, he saw no one, just the rain falling in sheets across the hills. He quickened his pace and caught up with the others. Tak smiled as he looked over his shoulder at Xi, the rain gathering in large drops and falling from the end of his nose.
“Aren’t you cold?” said Xi.
My people believe if rain falls when somebody dies, the Gods are weeping for their passing. This is a good omen.
“If you say so, that’s good enough for me,” said Xi, with a nod.
He trudged on. They passed several villages, now little more than burned out husks of houses and foundations. The plague had swept through this part of the world without mercy. Many people had died and the survivors had moved away. Xi looked at the plants thriving amongst the ruins and marvelled at the speed with which nature had reclaimed the land.
“To the north, there’s a village with a granary,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the rain.
Raven nodded and they pressed on. Eventually the rain stopped. Xi saw the dark clouds breaking up and drifting away to the east, casting dark shadows over the hills as they passed. The air was bright and fresh and he breathed deeply. He saw the granary in the distance, amongst the long weeping branches of willow trees. They reached the village by late afternoon. Most of the houses had been made of wood and had been burned to the ground. The granary was a stout, long rectangular building made from stone. Black streaks around the windows and door showed it had also been set alight. Sections of the peaked timber roof had burned away.
“This will do,” said Raven, pointing to the remains of a nearby foundation. It was waist high, two hands thick and built from stone and cement. “Roman craftsmanship. Good. It’ll provide cover. I’ll guard the entrance to the granary from there. Tak and Windsong can take cover in the trees.”
Xi felt Windsong’s hand on his arm. “I doubted this action, but I hope to be proved wrong come the dawn.”
They stowed their packs in the ruin where Raven had taken his position to watch the granary. He crouched with his bow resting on one knee and an arrow clipped to the string. Tak and Windsong disappeared into the willow trees. Xi entered the granary, catching a lingering smell like burned hair on the air. It was also a Roman construction, made from shaped stone blocks two hands thick cemented together. Once inside, he felt the air become cool and dry, even though the structure was partially exposed to the elements. He ran his fingertips across the walls. They were covered with soot. The dirt floor was paved with square stones, once supports for a raised floor to keep the stores dry. It was at least five strides wide and thirty long. The end was lost in the shadows. He sat down on a stone and waited.
Dusk settled and the granary became dark. He saw the evening star appear in the sky, twinkling briefly through the missing section of the roof before it was lost behind clouds. In the distance an owl hooted, announcing evening. Time passed. He felt his eyelids grow heavy and yawned. The events of the past few days had taken their toll. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt fresh after a full night’s sleep. Now, he felt he could sleep at last, if it weren’t for the cool night air on his face. The moon broke through the clouds, filling the granary with soft light. He looked up and saw her there, inside the door, a maiden framed in silver.
“You’ve done well, my sweet,” she said. “Come... come to me.” She held out her arms to him.
Crossing the dirt floor carefully to avoid the foundation stones, he fell into her embrace. She was soft, as delicate as a butterfly’s wing but he felt no warmth from her body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him close. Her hair smelled of jasmine. He felt her lips brush his cheek and her hot breath on his neck.
“Are you ready, my sweet?”
“I think so,” he replied.
“Shh,” she said, stroking his hair, “I’ll be with you. There’s nothing to fear.”
She slid from his embrace, ran her fingers over his chest and up onto his shoulders, turning him around so he was facing away from her. Her arms were strong but her touch was feather light.
“Take the pendant,” she said.
He pulled the stone from about his neck and cupped it in his hands. He felt her fingers running through his hair, coming to rest at his temples.
“Be brave. It will all soon be over.”
She spoke a word in an unknown language. He tried to take hold of it but it slipped from his memory. He felt sleepy again. Closing his eyes, he let the swirling dark engulf him. Every death, ordeal and moment of suffering he had endured through the ages came to him in an instant. He wanted to cry out. Drawing a deep breath, he felt her fingers cover his mouth. In his hand, the pendant became warm. She said another word, which was lost in a roll of thunder. He pictured Klinge in his mind, lying in the long grass, with his true name carved into his chest.
“Call to Phylasso, not with your voice, but your soul. Call to him! Now is the time!”
The pendant grew hot. Xi wasn’t sure if he could keep hold of it.
Phylasso! Why have you deserted us?
Lightning flashed nearby, followed by deafening thunder. Xi felt the warm wave of the epiphaneia flood his senses, stronger and more comforting than any other Khryseoi’s presence. He gasped. “Phylasso! He comes!”
She smoothed back his hair. “Yes, my sweet. You have done well to call him back from his slumber before he was ready.”
The pendant fell from his fingers. He felt numb, spent. He felt her soft hands on his chest.
“Many years ago, you asked me my name,” she whispered. “Do you remember?”
He nodded.
“I am Melinoë.”
His mouth shaped the word but no sound came.
“Sweet Amyntas, it’s a pity I can’t reside here in mortal form. We could have made love... before I unbound you.”
He felt her fingers entering his chest, grasping his heart.
“My Lord Eurynomos thanks you for your service, for delivering Phylasso to us.”
Melinoë’s hands hardened.
~ Chapter 22 ~
Raven started as lightning struck followed by thunder. There had been no sign of a storm. For an instant the deserted village dazzlingly illuminated. He was blinded and deafened. He covered his ears and waited for them to stop ringing. As he blinked to clear his sight, he heard a loud crack as a tree split apart. A willow tree had been struck and was now on fire, casting orange-yellow light across the ruined village. From the granary, Raven heard Xi scream. He vaulted the wall, reset his arrow and sprinted to the granary door. Stepping inside, he drew the bowstring and scanned the interior. Xi was arched over a foundation stone with a fist-sized hole in his chest. A shadow flitted between the stones, seeking the dark recesses. Raven’s heart was beating hard. He slowed his breath, calmed his nerves and attuned his senses to hunt in the dark. He felt Windsong and Tak behind him.
“No epiphaneia,” whispered Windsong. “Tak, find this creature!”
Tak peered along the walls to the end of the granary and back again. He raised his finger to the far right corner. Raven trained his bow on the spot. Windsong took her staff in both hands, whispering a request for cover as she entered the dark. Raven felt sweat beading on his forehead. Tak’s finger continued to track Xi’s assailant, who drifted left and right as Windsong approached. Tak was breathing hard, making a guttural sound at the back of his throat. His fingers flicked a sign but Raven couldn’t make out the words. He saw the figure again, let his arrow loose and heard a loud crack as it struck stone. He reached for his quiver and set another.
Windsong halted. He heard her gasp. A figure appeared at the edge of the moonlight. For a heartbeat Raven saw the outline of a young maiden, with hair to her waist, glistening ethereal white. She turned around and solidified, the moon giving shape to features and form as if illuminating an onyx statue. Now an old woman with a hunched back and stray wisps of hair stood where the maiden had be
en. She had long wiry arms, tipped with dagger-like fingernails. She let loose a piercing scream and Raven fought the urge to cover his ears. He steadied his bow and aimed for her heart. As the arrow struck, the creature became a maiden again. It passed through her as if she were a ghost. Windsong swung her staff, a strong blow to the creature’s head that would have knocked a man out cold. It too passed straight through the maiden’s head as if she weren’t there. The maiden giggled, turned on her heels and became a terrible hag once more. She lashed out, claws raking Windsong’s exposed shoulder. Windsong cried out, raised her staff to guard and retreated three paces. Tak flexed his fingers as he pulled on his iron-filled gloves and Raven heard the leather creaking. Tak raised his fists and closed on the hag opposite Windsong. Raven readied another arrow, drew the string and waited for the moment to set it loose. The black hag’s head snapped back and forth between Tak and Windsong. A hissing, bubbling sound escaped her thin wrinkled lips. Windsong swung her staff again with both hands, a horizontal blow to the body. The hag became a maiden again and the staff passed through, striking Tak in the stomach. He doubled over with the blow. Windsong gasped, her eyes darting to Tak. The creature switched back to a hag and drove her talons into Windsong’s exposed ribs. Raven loosed his arrow. It found a mark in the hag’s chest. She stumbled and looked up at him; her obsidian eyes pits of malice. He readied another arrow but the hag had transformed again. His arrow fell from her body and clattered against a stone. His throat tightened as he realised they didn’t possess a weapon capable of harming this spirit. Then a warm wave washed over him, as if a hundred Khryseoi had suddenly appeared at his back. The black hag hissed and retreated to the shadows. In the flickering light of the burning willow tree, Raven turned and saw a large man striding towards him. He had a tangled beard and hair and was dressed in nothing but a loincloth. In his hand, he held a long misshapen sword.
Raven’s breath burst out of his chest. “Phylasso!”
Phylasso took shape in the light of the burning willow, sweat glistening on his bronze body. “Gather around me, my children,” he said. “This is Melinoë, a foe beyond your power alone.” Phylasso reached out to Tak and touched him on the forehead, running the backs of his fingers down his cheek.
Windsong was slow to retreat. Dark streams of blood welled from her shoulder and side. Phylasso stepped into the granary, his frame filling the doorway. He wrapped an arm around her, held his great sword with the other and carried her to Raven. “General, it pleases me to see you again,” he said, as he set her down. “I wish it were in happier circumstances.”
“Phylasso!” said Raven again, feeling tears well in his eyes. He pointed to Xi’s broken body.
“She is a spectre and can sustain no true form in this world. She cannot unbind him. He rests and will return.” His eyes tracked Melinoë, as if he could see her in the dark. “I’ve slept too long.”
Inside the granary, Melinoë began to wail and keen, beastlike. Raven remembered the story Guide had told him about Theophilos and Melinoë. He shuddered. “If she’s a spectre, why doesn’t she vanish?”
Phylasso raised his sword. “I haven’t granted her leave.” He looked at each of them in turn. “I will need your help to keep her contained. I’m still dulled by my slumber and have not yet regained my strength.”
At the sound of Phylasso’s voice, Melinoë howled in anguish.
Phylasso’s face was stern. “She wails because she doesn’t wish to remain here. While her spirit walks in this world, she is vulnerable.” He fixed his gaze on the granary’s dark interior.
“General, are you still fit to fight?” Windsong nodded. “Take the left flank!” Phylasso glanced at Tak. “I’ll need you to hold Melinoë once she has been subdued.” Tak nodded.
“Raven, fill her with arrows while she appears as the hag. Use all your arrows!”
Melinoë shrieked again, and emerging into the light of the burning tree, threw herself at Phylasso, knocking him to the ground. Raven saw her fully at last, withered and scarred, one arm longer than the other. He buried an arrow in her chest. She raised her short arm to shield her eyes from the light. Windsong swung her staff, striking Melinoë’s hump, breaking it across her back. Melinoë howled, lashed out and raked Windsong’s face. Windsong stumbled backwards and fell. Raven saw she had lost her eyes. He steadied his bow and put a second arrow in Melinoë’s leg. Melinoë snarled, her eyes darting back and forth in pain. Raven buried three more arrows in her body and a fourth in her head. Her long fingers slashed the air. Phylasso stirred, reached for his sword and wearily rose to his feet.
“Turn, Melinoë!” he said. “Turn and I’ll put your suffering to an end.”
She swung at him with long clawed fingers. He raised his sword, severing her forearm. As it fell to the ground, it dissolved, hissing and spitting. A cloud of resinous smoke rose from the oily puddle, filling the air. Raven held his breath but the smoke crept into his nose and eyes. His eyes stung, his nose and throat burned. He coughed and inhaled the fumes. As they entered his lungs, he felt his body sapped of strength. He dropped his bow and stumbled about, struggling to breathe. Windsong cried out. The sound filled Raven with dread. He had to escape the smoke. Coughing and blinded, he reeled about. His boot snagged on a stone and he fell. Unable to see the ground rushing towards him, he dashed his head against a foundation stone and knew no more.
~ Chapter 23 ~
Phylasso let the black vapour wash over him. It smelled of honey and sulphur. Melinoë cried out with joy as the Khryseoi were overpowered by the smoke. He felt her testing his hold. She wanted to escape. He inhaled deeply, using her perfume to strengthen his resolve. Her cackle turned to a hiss and she huddled near the granary wall, jerking her head back and forth.
Phylasso turned his attention to the Khryseoi. For all the horrors they had faced in the war, they had never encountered a creature like Melinoë. Eurynomos, wisely, had held back his most powerful servants. They were vulnerable while Phylasso walked the earth. Phylasso flexed his fingers and reversed his grip on his sword. Still watching Melinoë from the corner of his eye, Phylasso found Daiyu, his General, had succumbed to the gas. He eased the knot in her chest so she could breathe. Daiyu, the ever-present Khryseoi. He’d never needed to seek her soul in the Valley. She returned immediately from death of her own free will. He had hoped to explore the reason for this but there had never been time.
Melinoë whimpered against the granary wall. Phylasso felt her growing desperation. He tightened his grip on his sword, feeling the rough handle press against his calluses. He continued to seek the Khryseoi with his mind and found Kaha’i, the first of the Khryseoi, who as a boy had called him ‘father’. Phylasso considered all the Khryseoi to be his children but Kaha’i held a special place in his heart. Kaha’i was in pain. Phylasso released him from that burden. As their minds joined, Phylasso drew a sharp breath. Kaha’i’s tongue was missing, cut out by an unearthly blade. Why, my son?
Kaha’i was barely conscious but responded. It is the secret that must never be spoken.
Phylasso felt his heart ache. What secret?
Daemon fire...
There was a breath of wind and the fumes began to thin. Phylasso glanced at Melinoë. Her eyes flickered in his direction. She would see him soon enough. He wanted to rush over to Kaha’i, to take him out of the fray. Have strength, my son. I will help you to understand this secret soon enough.
He sought Raven in the haze. The bowman from the north had fallen against a low stone wall and lay at an unnatural angle. He held onto life by the barest thread. Phylasso remembered Raven as a ten-year-old boy. His true name, Brennus, as well as being the name of the black bird he revered, meant ‘king’. In the moment Phylasso had created the Khryseoi, their thirty thousand souls had lit up in a myriad of hues before his eyes, except for Raven’s. Where Raven’s soul should have been was a man-shaped void. He was The Enigma.
Phylasso let his mind touch the rest of the Khryseoi in the world. A third of their orig
inal number remained. Grief welled in his chest. He had loved them all so much. Their sacrifice showed him mortals were capable of selfless consciousness, that they deserved to attain immortality eventually. At present, he was limited to creating only thirty thousand. Phylasso drew a deep breath and resolved to restore the Khryseoi as soon as he had fully woken from his sleep.
His eyes returned to Melinoë, still in the form of the hag and filled with Raven’s arrows. The longer they remained in her body, the weaker she would become. He watched her stand up, straightening her hunch, spreading her arms wide. She began to shimmer. He drew back his arm. She transformed into the maiden. The arrows fell from her body and an elegant long-fingered hand emerged from her wrist stump. Phylasso hurled his sword, burying the long blade in her heart to the hilt. She toppled over, her eyes wide, fingers trying to pull it free. Phylasso rushed to her side, knelt down and lifted her head into the crook of his arm.
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