The Korinniad

by A. K. Caggiano

  “Wow,” Korinna sighed, “That’s a lot.”

  “My heart swells for you.” Andreas motioned for her, inches away, and she ducked, afraid to be crushed by his enormous hands. “The gods have blessed me this day!”

  “Oh. Yeah!” Korinna perked up and cleared her throat. “Ath—er, Mighty Athena sent me, a dryad, I guess, here to meet you for…some reason.” She wiggled her fingers in the air.

  “The gods, they have Enigmatic Methods.” His voice was gruff and low.

  Korinna grimaced. “Oh, yeah they do. So, listen.” She swallowed and stood from the trunk, slipping below his outstretched arm. “Maybe you can, like, buy me a chalice of mead or something?”

  “Dryads drink mead?”

  “Well, yeah, I think, I mean…who’s the dryad here, buddy?”

  He nodded vigorously. “Of course!” And held out a bent elbow.

  Korinna pointed at him. “Maybe first you could…” She mimicked wiping her face.

  “Right!”

  As Andreas knelt down at the stream and scrubbed off the gentle doe’s lifeblood, Korinna turned back to Nikeros, still crouching in the shadows. She gave him a look as if to say, What on Gaia have I gotten myself into here? This man is huge, and I am super lying to him. I know how to be a dryad about as much as he knows how to be one, and I’m headed into town with him. Was that a dumb thing to suggest? It was the first thing that came to mind, but should I suggest something else? Also did you get a good look at this guy? He’s like a minotaur without the horns. I’m honestly kinda scared of him. I mean, he seems perfectly nice, but what if he gesticulates a little too wildly and accidentally knocks my head off? Do you have an arrow in there that will shrink him? Even a little bit?

  But Nikeros simply nodded to her as if to say, Great job!

  CHAPTER VIII

  Sometimes the gods get things wrong and sometimes they get things very wrong. Korinna wasn’t sure which this was, but she knew something wasn’t exactly right.

  Andreas proved himself to be perfectly capable, kind even, and as he escorted her through the forest much to the surprise of his hunting companions, she managed to get him to speak enough to prove he wasn’t a complete idiot either. And yet something felt off. Perhaps it was the effects of the puppy love (as Hermes had not so delicately called it) that caused Andreas to appear almost pained at how enamored of her he was, or the false character she herself was portraying to him. Regardless, Korinna was suspicious, his words though extreme, felt hollow. And he wasn’t blinking as much as she thought he ought to.

  Something Korinna knew in absolute certainty, though, was that Andreas had won a total of three hundred and seventy eight battles, of which highlights included running through no less than four men on a single spear and ripping another man’s head off with his bare hands so cleanly it appeared to have been severed with a flaming sword. He had talked to her about his victories for the entirety of their walk, though when they came to the edge of town, her eyes wandered out to the houses and shops before them, barely listening. Even here, on the outskirts, Theopopolis was overflowing with vendors and villagers, running and shouting, and she could see the road ahead of them looked to go on forever, wider and busier as it went. Korinna managed to pull her attention back to Andreas when she noted that the tone in his voice had changed. Most of his victories had been against Dorinth, a rival kingdom with which Theopopolis shared its eastern border, but now, he lamented, a truce had been called.

  “That sounds like it might be a good thing?” Korinna offered hesitantly, looking up at his looming mass.

  “Yes, I suppose it is.” Andreas heaved a great sigh. He pulled her toward a building on the main road and up onto its entry, hunching over into the archway. “I simply follow King Autocratus’s orders. But now my heart,”—he turned to her fully, taking both of her hands into his own so that they completely disappeared in his grip—“It beats for another.”

  Korinna squinted up into his face. Dark eyes stared deeply into hers as he ducked to fit in the space, face too close, breath too hot. Another? she thought, but was jolted out of her own mind when he came even closer to her. “We’re blocking the doorway!”

  “Of course!” he bellowed and gave the door a little push. It flew open and slammed into the wall, shaking the entirety of the place. Its inhabitants threw themselves to the ground, flipping stools and scattering cookware. Andreas barely noticed, his eyes never leaving her face, and pulled her toward the back of the tavern, choosing a small table in the shadows. “Do not move, my sweet.”

  She grinned at him and gave him a thumbs up, dropping the corners of her mouth the moment he turned and headed for the barman. What in Tartarus was she doing?

  “Seems to be going well!” Nikeros’s voice, pitched excessively high, suddenly came from just around her ear.

  She looked about until a bright flash of green darted down from her shoulder onto her upper arm. She nearly smacked it away until she realized the lizard was indeed a demigod. With a hand on her chest and annoyance in her eye, she grit her teeth. “Is it though?”

  “You do need to be a bit more romantic. Hold his attention. Beguile him.” The little reptile blinked its bulbous eyes and tilted its head to each side.

  “Um, he seems to be pretty well beguiled already.”

  “My arrows can only do so much. Eventually you will lose his affection if you do not bolster it yourself. I have planted the seed, now you must tend the garden.”

  “Ew.” She stuck out her tongue. “Please don’t say seed again.” Andreas was headed back, two chalices in hand. “Oh, here comes my hero now.”

  “Remember, be romantic!”

  “Shoo!” She shook her arm, and the lizard scurried up onto her shoulder, shot across her chest and dove down the front of her chiton. “Not there!”

  Andreas froze at the table’s edge. His brows turned anxiously over newly watery eyes. “Is this table not pleasing to you, my love?”

  “Oh!” Korinna bit her lip. “I mean, not there, over here!” She shifted down the bench she was on and patted the space beside her. His face lit up, and as he squeezed in next to her, she immediately felt herself raise up and slide down against him. In spite of herself, Korinna broke into laughter, and Andreas soon followed after. Then she felt a tickle across her torso and up her back, and she shivered.

  “My sweet, do you feel a draft?” He threw a massive arm over her shoulder and squeezed. With a sharp inhale, she felt all the breath go out of her.

  “I’m fine,” she squeaked out, wrapping both of her hands around the chalice and taking a deep pull of the amber liquid. Hot and sweet and heady, the mead burned her throat on its way down leaving a smoky trail on her tongue. She nearly choked on it but held back in front of the man. Taking a last swallow, she slammed the chalice down hard and nodded at him with a forced smile. It tasted awful, but she had a feeling she was going to need it.

  “Compliment him.” Nikeros’s tiny voice was in her ear again as she watched Andreas drain his chalice.

  “Wow, you drink a lot.”

  Nikeros grunted into her ear, “Not like that!”

  Andreas wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and revealed a grin from ear to ear. “Why, thank you!”

  “Okay, maybe like that.”

  “And, uh, you’ve got a really big—”

  “No!”

  “—sword.”

  Andreas’s eyes sparkled. “This is the Sword of Teethis.” In a flash of blinding light, Andreas pulled the weapon from its sheath on his back. As broad as his hand and the length of one of his legs, he held it as if it weighed nothing, but with the revere of something holy. “Passed from king to general to king through the ages, it holds within it the souls of all those it has slain, and by their force wields incredible power, blessed by the goddess Athena herself.”

  Korinna stared at the hunk of metal, oddly radiant in the dim tavern, and thought for a second she heard a far off, muffled scream of agony. “Fancy.”


  “Indeed!” He swung it through the air, just missing a server’s head. “It yields to its wielder, weighing nothing in their hands, but only if its owner relents the weapon.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t seem to need it to be light: your muscles are really big too,” she said hurriedly, hoping he would put the weapon away, “I bet pointy things just bounce right off you.”

  “No,” Andreas said, suddenly stoic as he sheathed the sword and gripped the edge of his tunic. Ripping it away, he exposed his chest, broad, muscled, and hairy. The scarring there was substantial, spread out over his heart. Korinna marveled at it. How it hadn’t killed him, well, he explained, “The gods smiled on me that day.”

  “Whoa.” Korinna reached out for it, unthinking, but just before her fingers could touch the raised welts, Andreas’s hands shot out and captured hers once more.

  “Sweet dryad of Athena,” he sighed, “I can barely believe I have been so overcome. It is strange, really.”

  It sure is, she thought, knowing other forces were at work, and feeling at least ten percent guiltier.

  “I never thought it possible that I, Andreas, would fall for, well…” His face reddened as his voice trailed off, and Korinna squinted at him, goading him to continue, but then there was another voice.

  “Hail, Andreas.”

  Before the table stood another man, tall and slim with narrow shoulders and a long nose. He looked down at Korinna, or rather glared, and she blinked back.

  “Diocles!” Andreas jumped up from the bench and Korinna slammed back down to the ground. He threw his arm around the man’s shoulders. Shaking his gaze away from Korinna and casting it on Andreas, a smile finally broke across Diocles’s face. “This is my hypostrategos and the Damon to my Pythias.” Andreas shook him fondly as he beamed at Korinna. “And this, Diocles, is…is…”

  “Korinna.” She hurried to offer him her outstretched hand, but Diocles sneered as if it were dung in the street. She pulled her hand back and bit a lip. She could read distrust all over his face and was sure she wasn’t quite hiding the guilt on her own.

  “Korinna, beautiful dryad sent by Athena on this glorious day!”

  “Hmm.” Diocles shifted his weight from one hip to the other. “Well. I didn’t know Athena had dryads.” Then he turned swiftly back to Andreas. “I thought after the hunt this morning we would be meeting to discuss the summit.”

  “The summit!” Andreas slapped his own forehead, a blow that would have knocked a lesser man’s head off. “Of course, dear Diocles, forgive me. My sweet Korinna, please, accompany me to our barracks for I cannot bear to be out of your presence.”

  Korinna studied his hopeful face, then glanced at Diocles’s fiery glower.

  “You must!” Nikeros whispered into her ear from some place nestled in her hair.

  She stood and nodded. “Sure, why not?”

  Diocles’s mouth fell open, and he looked from the woman to his friend. “Really, Andreas? Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “Why of course it is!” Andreas laughed and pulled the man to him again while swinging another arm around Korinna’s shoulders and heading for the door. “What could possibly go wrong?”

  Oh, so many things!

  Hold your hippos there, Diomedes, I’ll mix in a little Chaos where appropriate.

  You better.

  CHAPTER IX

  The room Korinna found herself in was, if she had to put it in a single word, masculine. Fancifully decorated with brutish scenes of mostly naked men fighting even more naked men, it was otherwise sparsely furnished, but did have a raised bed in its center. The walls were painted with angry dogs and horses as well, but the naked men bits really stood out, and she wondered why any man would want to be surrounded by so much—

  “Dick!” Korinna jumped at the telltale tickle of a tiny creature against her neck. Nikeros the lizard scrambled out onto her shoulder once again. With utter exasperation, she hissed at him, “What were you thinking!”

  He looked guilty, even for a lizard, big eyes sorrowful as he squeaked out, “Hide?”

  “What? No, I mean, coming here!” She gesticulated wildly to the room, and Nikeros flattened himself to stay stuck to her flailing arm. “That man hates me!”

  The lizard shook its tiny head. “Indeed, you surely do not understand love, do you? He absolutely adores you!”

  “Not Andreas,” she growled, “The other one. Diocles. Did you see how he was looking at me? He knows, Niko, he knows I’m lying or something, and now I’m shut up in a strange man’s bed chamber while he and his friend—who hates me—are outside plotting gods know what.”

  “Diocles just seems prudent,” Nikeros offered unconvincingly, “Anyway, I know what they are discussing, and it has nothing to do with you. I will ensure your safety. You are my charge after all, and I will not allow any harm to come to you.”

  Korinna sat on the edge of the bed, raised a brow at the tiny lizard promising her protection and sighed. “Am I at least doing a good job?”

  The lizard tilted his head again and cracked a wide smile. “You could be doing much, much worse.”

  Korinna fell back, unconcerned for the reptile who managed to remain unsquashed beneath her arm. There was really no escaping this now, she realized as she felt the comfort of the woolen blankets surrounding her, and perhaps that wasn’t the worst thing. She closed her eyes. Perhaps she could keep up the facade of Athenian dryad long enough to convince Andreas she was a good match for him. Of course, it would be nice if the obverse were also true, but it would be nice if Zafolas didn’t throw virgins into sacrificial pits with ambiguous monsters at their bottoms too. Maybe, she thought snuggling down, she could find a way to stay.

  Hands wrapped around both of Korinna’s arms and pulled tightly, and her eyes flew open just as she felt herself be lifted from the bed. She went to cry out at what she saw—humanesque figures distorted by shadow and color—but her voice caught in her throat just before everything went dark. Korinna was suddenly nowhere and everywhere at once. She saw a deep blackness, deeper than any normal blackness, but a black that looked back at her and made her feel as though she might not be real. In it, there were tiny pinpricks of light that were not just tiny pinpricks of light, but entire worlds with entire stories and absolutely no knowledge of her or her world, sparkling all around. Amongst the lights, she caught glimpses of shadowy figures, the silhouette of a sewing wheel, a spider with too many legs, and a cat.

  Her wonder was cut short by another vision filling in around her, replacing that forever darkness with a new kind of darkness, a familiar darkness that was just as blinding, but much less alien. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out stone walls, crudely cut, illuminated gloomily by a torch set into a brass sconce. And the figures, human, but only just, with mottled skin, bulging eyes, and gaunt forms, were standing before her.

  “Where am I?” Korinna eked out to them as they stared back numbly.

  “Here,” one told her, its voice shaking, “Why, are we somewhere else?”

  “Well, we’re certainly not where I knew where we were, so I can’t tell you that!” She threw her hands up.

  While the first flinched at her quick movement, the other noted sharply, “I’m certain we’re where we should be.”

  Korinna glowered at the two. “And that is?”

  “Here,” said the first again, and Korinna slammed her fists onto her hips taking a step toward them. A ghastly panic drew itself on both of their long faces, striking fear in Korinna, melting away any anger she might have had. Their figures moved backward as if they were pulled, gliding over the ground. Then large bars suddenly sliced down through their bodies, and Korinna gasped, jumping back, but she quickly came to see that the two had simply moved through the bars as if their bodies weren’t solid at all. Korinna whipped around to see that there was a stone wall on every side of her. When she turned back, she was now separated from the figures by long, iron poles. She was on the wrong side, it seemed.

  “Ph
obos, Deimos!” Nikeros’s voice was full bodied, and even though Korinna felt him appear by her side, she still jumped. “What is the meaning of this?”

  One of the figure’s faces twisted, it showed horror, then terror, then abject fear, each distinctly different though inherently the same, then it slid into a gentle, comfortable anxious. “Nikeros,” it said with a voice like someone who’d just had a good cry, “What a horrible turn of events.”

  “You know these guys?” Korinna pointed at them, but cast her ire on the demigod. “What’s going on?”

  “These are my brothers.”

  “More Erotes?” Korinna couldn’t really believe that, not by the look of them.

  “No, they take after their father.” He stepped right up to the bars.

  “On order of Ares we’ve captured the girl.” The one who seemed to be slightly more sure of himself pointed at Korinna. “The object of Andreas’s affection. We’ve been looking for her for some time.”

  Korinna screwed up her face. “How long?” The day had barely passed. She supposed word traveled fast amongst the gods who were said to often be outside of time itself, but still.

  “For as long as Ares commanded it,” the shaking one told her and collapsed in on itself, “He will be pleased with us now, won’t he, brother?”

  “I can’t be certain.” The other hadn’t look away from Nikeros. “How did you end up here?”

  “Korinna is my charge.” The Erote appeared to be deep in thought. “Is Andreas meant to rescue her?”

  Both nodded in unison.

  “Fantastic!” Nikeros turned to Korinna, beaming. “Tyche smiles upon us!”

  Before she could muster up an appropriately profanity-laden interjection about what bullocks luck and its goddess, Tyche, were, the ghoulish demigods’ forms began to waver. With wide eyes, Korinna watched them disappear into wibbly wobbly bits. She ran up to the bars, reaching through and shouting into the newly empty cave, “Where do you think you’re going?”