A Storm of Blood and Stone (Myths of Stone Book 3)

by Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  Stheno wiped her eyes and charged. Three strides into her run, the world rippled around her, and she found herself in a massive circular library. Shelves stretched for what had to be miles in the air all around, each one crammed with scrolls and heavy leather-bound tomes. Dark shades, numbering in the hundreds, if not thousands, floated by, tending to the collection, while Nyx sat casually at a nearby oak table with her feet propped up on top.

  “This library contains all that has been and will ever be written,” Nyx said, making a sweeping gesture of the area. “Have a look around.”

  The sudden and unexpected change in scenery was more than enough to momentarily stop Stheno’s attack, though she still hated the goddess with every fiber of her being. “Everything ever written?”

  “And to be written,” Nyx said again. “Would you like to see what’s to be said about your sister?”

  Though the gorgon’s muscles kept taut as she anticipated yet another trick, her curiosity couldn’t be stopped. “I would,” she said. “Where’s the book?”

  Nyx chuckled, taking far more amusement than Stheno would’ve ever wanted in her reply. “Book? No, sweet thing,” she said. “Volumes. Volumes that will fill the ages, be studied and pored over until time itself is sick of existing.”

  “Enough theatrics. Where are they?”

  Nyx flicked her index finger off to the side. Stheno turned to follow it. A bookcase as wide as the Aegean Sea and stretching farther into the air than she could tell stood twenty yards away, softly illuminated by magical white flames that neither gave off heat nor damaged any of the tomes or shelves they danced along.

  “Those are not all hers,” Stheno said, shaking her head.

  “And why wouldn’t they be?” Nyx asked. “She’s the one who’s loved out of the three of you, the one whose accomplishments will be sung through the generations, the one whose actions will make their eternal marks throughout history. Granted, Medusa has a touch of fame as well, but it’s nothing compared to what Euryale will have.”

  Stheno clenched her jaw as she marched to the bookshelf. She grabbed a random tome. It happened to have a coral-blue leather case that was well worn and cracked near the corners. Her sister’s name, Euryale, was the only word embossed across the front. The gorgon didn’t think much of it when she paged through, other than noting that this book was indeed about her sister, detailing exploits she’d never heard of before. However, when she pulled more and more books, she quickly discovered that they, too, were focused on Euryale. Praised Euryale. Fawned over Euryale.

  Stheno tossed the book she held to the side, the ninth one she’d pulled, and sneered. “And what of me?” she asked Nyx. “Where are the things written about what I’ve done? Or are you going to try and have me believe I’m given nothing.”

  “Oh, pet,” the goddess replied, dropping her brow. “I wouldn’t ever suggest such a thing. I believe you’re in that one, third from the bottom on the left.”

  Stheno turned back around, and sure enough, where Nyx had mentioned, there was a tall, slim book illuminated by the same magical fires that danced on the bookshelf, only these flames glowed orange.

  “Page fourteen,” Nyx said as the gorgon plucked the book from its spot.

  Stheno flipped through the pages, finding the section easily. But as she scanned the text, and then reread twice more, she found no mention of her name, only a brief sentence that referred to her. “Euryale,” she said, reading aloud. “One of three gorgon sisters, was the daughter of Phorcys and Ceto.” She paused when she noticed a tiny number one at the end of the sentence and then another at the bottom of the page. “Medusa and Stheno,” she finished.

  “You see?” Nyx said. “You’re nothing more than a footnote. An afterthought. Barely worth mentioning.”

  The book fell from her hands, and Stheno snorted with disgust, disgust at Nyx for her actions and disgust at herself for letting the goddess dig under her skin. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, marching back to the table. “None of this is real.”

  Nyx stretched her arms upward, her face awash with delight, and then clasped her hands behind her head. Her inky black eyes locked on to Stheno, never blinking, and stayed focused for several uncomfortable moments before she finally spoke again. “Do you know why she fears you’ll abandon her?”

  “She said it herself,” Stheno replied. “She’s afraid of those who chase power at the expense of their family.”

  “That’s half of it, yes,” Nyx said with a nod. “And you insist that won’t be you.”

  “It won’t.”

  Nyx hummed, shifting in her seat and dropping her hands gently into her lap. “Indulge me in something,” she said. “How does it feel to realize your own sister thinks you’re that weak? I genuinely want to know.”

  Stheno felt her blood warm, and though she inadvertently clenched a fist, she regained control and forced herself to relax. Nyx would not get the better of her, especially when her lines of attack were so blatant. “She doesn’t,” Stheno said, glaring. “Stop trying to cause trouble.”

  “It was a basic observation, nothing more,” Nyx said with a smirk. “She thinks your ego is so delicate it must always prove itself.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid I’m quite right on that,” Nyx replied. “As is she. Why else would you continually try and pick a fight with Achlys? Or me, for that matter. As if a paltry little thing like you could cause me any worry.”

  “Quiet.”

  “I imagine had any of my children been as fragile as you are, I’d want nothing to do with them either. Do you suppose that’s why your father abandoned you as well, wishing to the Fates he could forget that you were even born?”

  “I said, quiet!”

  Nyx ruffled the feathers to her raven wings before reaching across the table and stroking the side of Stheno’s face. “You have very pretty eyes, pet,” she said. “But they’re far too easy to read. You want to show the world you’re not to be ignored, that your life matters.”

  Stheno heaved the table sideways and lunged, stopping only when her face was a hair’s breadth away from the goddess’s. “Everyone’s life should matter!”

  Nyx didn’t even bat an eye. “Should matter and does matter are entirely different things.”

  Stheno ran her tongue across her ever-sharpening fangs, dying to sink them into Nyx’s creamy neck and to drive her claws straight through her gut. How she’d love to see the life fade from that condescending goddess’s eyes and revel in the shock that would splay across her face as she drew her final breaths.

  “But you can’t, can you?” Nyx said, stroking the side of the gorgon’s face once more.

  Stheno snarled and took a swipe at her arm, but all she managed to cut through was the thick air around.

  Nyx, who’d shifted away a few feet in the blink of an eye, laughed. “You try, pet. You try,” she said. “But you’ll never, ever be enough. That’s why she’ll be written about, and you will not.”

  “After we save Cassandra and topple Zeus, the world will bow before us,” Stheno snarled. “I look forward to the day when you walk down my hall and beg a favor from me, and then you’ll see who’s remembered.”

  “I have entertained your juvenile manners long enough,” she said as she made a slow approach. “I will not tolerate them any longer.”

  “And I’ve played your games long enough,” Stheno retorted. “Give me the flower. That was the deal.”

  “If that’s what you want,” Nyx said with a shrug. The goddess snapped her fingers, and everything disappeared in a torrent of rain and wind. A large room in the shape of a perfect triangle spanning fifty yards across sprang into existence with Stheno and Nyx standing in the middle of its cobblestone floor.

  Set in the middle of the wall on the left was an open archway that gave way to a small room. An oak pedestal stood in the center on a platform made of white marble, and floating a few inches above, a delicate flower with long, oval, black-and-white petals hu
ng in the air. The wall to the right held a similar archway, only the room it led into housed a simple well made of rough stone.

  “Is that hemalander?” Stheno asked, scarcely believing what her eyes took in from the first room.

  “It is.”

  The gorgon started for it, but before she took more than a single step, Nyx struck her across the chest with the shaft of her very own spear. “Something you should know, pet, before you take it.”

  Stheno narrowed her eyes and snatched her weapon back from the goddess. “And that is?”

  “There are ways you can alter the course of the future, be remembered and revered.”

  “And those ways would be?”

  Nyx gave a knowing smile before replying. “Waters of Chaos are trapped in that well,” she said, nodding to the room on the right. “Waters that can imbue your spear with powers that will rival any other borne by the gods. If you wanted the throne of Olympus, that would certainly grant it to you.”

  “But?”

  An hourglass, half a foot in size, appeared in Nyx’s hand. She flipped it over before setting it on a small marble table that had materialized next to her. The blue sand in the upper bulb flowed through the narrow neck, forming a small pile at the bottom.

  “I’m sure you can figure that part out,” Nyx said.

  Stheno stood still for a moment, her mind reeling as she not only weighed her options, but desperately tried to understand where the trap had been placed. She didn’t believe for one second that Nyx was going to give her either the plant she so desperately sought or the abilities she craved to be respected and feared by all.

  “What’s it going to be?” she asked. “Time is fleeting, and the only one that will stop you from having either is you. So, would you rather have a cure or respect? Salvation or importance?”

  One…only one. That wasn’t a hard choice to make. No matter what, Euryale was her sister whom she loved dearly, even if she wasted the opportunities the Fates gave her—actions which drove her insane. With the hemalander in hand, they could then focus on what else needed to be done once Cassandra was healed: namely, toppling the Olympians.

  But the blue sand flowed slowly. She could dart across the room they were in at least five times before it ran out. Maybe even ten. Was Nyx counting on her indecision? Or just thought that little of her that the goddess figured she couldn’t do both?

  “I wonder what Euryale will say when she learns you failed at grabbing either,” Nyx mused. “Or Zeus, for that matter, though he probably won’t care all that much when he takes a liking to your pretty face. I hear he’s on a quest for redheads.”

  Stheno’s mouth twisted into a snarl as she made a mad dash for the well. Halfway to the door, she had the presence of mind to glance over her shoulder and check the hourglass. The sand kept falling, but as she’d predicted, the upper bulb had a long way to go before being empty.

  Through the archway she raced. She reached the well with such speed, she couldn’t stop in time and ended up having to leap over the top. Her feet touched the floor a second later, at which point she pivoted and looked at the sands again.

  Not even a quarter finished. Plenty of time.

  “I’ll show you,” she muttered to herself, taking a look down the well. Rough stone formed the inner walls, and far below, she could see still, dark water. There was no rope or bucket anywhere nearby, but that didn’t matter. It couldn’t have been more than seven or eight feet down.

  Stheno flattened herself on top of the wall and lowered her spear. The tip came close to dipping in the water, but not quite. The gorgon, undaunted, huffed, and let her grip slip a few inches. The weapon slid downward, and this time, the adamantine tip pierced the surface.

  The water bubbled, and wisps of acrid smoke floated into the air. Hairs rose on her arm as warmth spread up the limb and across her chest. The gorgon’s eyes rolled up in her head as euphoria took over. The world awaited her command. The very fabric of creation would yield to her every desire.

  The sensation, however, faded. Her eyes shot open, and while the tip of the spear remained in the water, glowing a fiery red, the bubbling had stopped. A heartbeat later, the light emanating from the point dimmed.

  “No,” Stheno grunted. “Not yet.”

  She lifted herself up and craned her head back the way she’d come, praying she had time to submerge the weapon further and absorb more of the energy contained within the well. Half of the sand remained. She’d try once more, a few seconds at most, before she’d run for the flower.

  “Five seconds,” she promised herself, flattening against the top once more. She stretched her arm, painfully so, but she couldn’t get more than an extra inch. Again, the waters bubbled, but that didn’t last.

  The gorgon set her jaw with determination and quickly slid off the side, using her free hand to catch the lip and keep her from falling. The weapon sank another foot and a half, maybe even two.

  Gouts of steam shot from the surface as the water turned to a rolling boil. Muscles in her body twitched as energy raced through them. Her grip above tightened, instantly crushing the portion of rock she held onto, and she was certain her strength now rivaled Ares, possibly Zeus’s. Her senses heightened like never before. She could hear the expansion of Nyx’s lungs as she drew a breath, and her eyes took in colors more vivid than she’d ever dreamed. She could feel the individual grains of wood on the shaft of her spear, and in the air, she could pick out a thousand thousand different tastes.

  Stheno held her breath, images of all the wrongs she’d right flooding her mind. She’d chain Zeus like a dog at the foot of her throne and grind anyone foolish enough to come to his defense into kibble. She’d carve her name into the sky for all to see, and not a soul would dare set themselves against her or her sister.

  Her eyes snapped open as panic struck her chest. “No,” she whispered, scrambling up and out of the well. “No. No. No.”

  The final grains in the upper lobe slipped through the hourglass’s neck right as the gorgon ended up in a low crouch. But they hadn’t fallen all the way yet.

  “No!” Stheno screaming, shooting forward faster than her heart could plummet.

  Her legs pumped feverishly, taking strides she never thought possible. She covered half the ground between her and the archway in the blink of an eye, but it wasn’t enough. She had another ten yards to go when the last grain of sand fell. The moment it struck the pile inside the bottom lobe, the air beneath the arch turned to stone.

  “NO!” Stheno cried, ramming into the wall as hard as she could. She stuck the barrier with her shoulder, sending chunks of stone and fine powder in all directions.

  The gorgon ignored the blood flowing down her arm, took a few steps back, and rammed it once more. Though she produced similar results, she feared it wasn’t enough, so when she stepped back a third time, she used her spear instead.

  The adamantine point sank three feet into the rock with ease. The wall cracked and then split before chunks blasted everywhere. Despite the damage caused, more stone remained. And even more, and more, and more, when Stheno struck time and again.

  “There’s nothing there, pet,” Nyx said after Stheno had carved a tunnel ten feet deep. “You had your chance. It’s gone.”

  “No, it’s not,” Stheno said, clenching her jaw and hammering away. Her blows came faster and harder than before. The spear hummed with energy and exploding everything it touched with every strike. She didn’t slow until she’d dug another half dozen feet and didn’t stop until she doubled that.

  “As I said, before,” Nyx said. “It’s gone.”

  Stheno screamed in frustration before pivoting on the balls of her feet and charging the goddess. With ten paces to go, she leaped into the air, using both of her hands to guide the spear, eager to drive it through the goddess’s heart.

  Nyx arched an eyebrow and casually raised her hand. The gorgon froze in midair, her face contorted in rage.

  “Manners, pet. Manners,” said Nyx.

>   “You tricked me!”

  “I told you before, all I would do was let you be you,” she said. “If you’re going to blame anyone, blame yourself. Besides, trickery is only done by the desperate and uncouth. As you can see, I am neither.”

  Stheno’s eyes burned with a vengeance like no other, and though she still couldn’t move, she vowed she’d have Nyx’s head the moment she could.

  “Cheer up, pet,” Nyx said. “You got what you wanted, after all. Isn’t that the most important thing? Strength to topple Olympus? I’m sure your sister will understand.”

  “I hate you.”

  “I don’t care,” Nyx replied.

  The goddess faded away, leaving Stheno paralyzed and hanging in the air, with nothing to keep her company but cold stone and her own thoughts.

  Chapter At the Vault

  Alex shared every bit of what happened to Euryale; at least, the parts he knew. There were a lot of questions Aphrodite and Ares had, questions he hadn’t an inkling as to what the answers might be. But he knew the important parts: Cassandra was in dire straits, and Zeus’s treachery was not one Euryale would ever forget—or him, for that matter. He left out his dealings with Hera. That portion was easy enough to omit.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Aphrodite said after a long, uncomfortable silence. I can’t believe he’d do that.”

  “Of course he did it,” Alex said, clenching a fist. “You think I’d make that up?”

  The rise in Alex’s tone drew a snarl from Ares, but the goddess took his hand. “It’s okay,” she said to him before turning back to Alex. “I believe you. I do. I’m speechless, is all.”

  “All you have to say is you’ll help,” Alex said. “And all I need from you is to get in that vault.”

  “You don’t know what you ask,” Aphrodite said, shaking her head. “I want to help, but…What’s in there that you need, anyway? Maybe we can find something else.”

  “I need that ax,” Alex said.

  “His ax. The ax,” Aphrodite said, laughing in disbelief. “The most powerful artifact ever created? What makes you think I’ll ever hand that to you.”