The Immortal Game

by Talia Rothschild

  “And even if you did,” she continued, overriding his clear desire to explain himself, “what about the humans? If everyone they worship suddenly disappears, who will they pray to? Who would offer them guidance and blessings? Eventually, the offerings would stop coming. The Linked Chambers on the mountain sustain Olympus. Whatever you’re planning, this is not the way to fix things.”

  Gods and goddesses were moving from nearby groups to surround them, listening in on their conversation. Good. She wanted them to hear.

  “Poinê has everything figured out,” he assured her, palms raised. “We’ve mapped out plans—”

  Her temper flared again. “And Poinê, Goddess of Retribution, is your first choice to rule?”

  “The Olympians have taken away everything, Galene,” he snapped. “You just got exiled, wrongfully. They wouldn’t even listen to you, didn’t even try to consider looking at other evidence or proof. How can you still stand behind them? Beneath them?”

  Galene’s face grew hot. She stood. “We are all fallible, even the Olympians. How can you damn hundreds of lives only to bring this cosmos back into chaos? You haven’t thought this through!”

  “I have.” He stepped toward her. “You need to.”

  “No I don’t. I would never participate in this … this coup, this mutiny.”

  “Galene, how can you be so blind? So passive? How can you refuse to stand up for what’s right?”

  “I am standing up for what’s right!” she yelled. “I won’t be party to this, Chrysander. I will not.”

  They held eyes, glaring at each other until she saw the fire die from within him. He sighed, shoulders slumping.

  “I think…” She glanced around at her friends. “I think we need to leave.”

  Kostas gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Fine. This will happen with or without you, Galene. Your refusal means nothing but a longer time line.”

  Fear shot through her. “Who else can retrieve the avyssos for you?”

  A tall goddess stepped forward from the crowd, eyes cold, dark hair cropped close to her scalp. “Me.”

  A bitter smile crossed Chrysander’s lips as he turned to the new speaker. “Anyss. Descendant of Oceanus. She has a raw power over the water—in any form. Staying underwater will require some creativity, but we have no doubt she will be just as successful, if slower.”

  Anyss stared Galene dead in the eye and raised a hand. From the lightly clouded sky, rain immediately began falling, padding the soft ground everywhere but the circle in which they stood.

  Galene’s mind raced. “You can’t do this.”

  “Oh, little sister,” he cooed, stepping around the logs, “tomorrow, due south to the seashore, the mutiny begins. If any of you have opinions of your own, don’t let Galene sway you. You’re welcome to stay. If, however, you’re all just as blind”—he waved his hand dismissively as he walked away—“don’t get in our way.”

  As Chrysander left, so did the crowd. Gods and goddesses gave them final, nasty, or awkward glances as they disappeared between tents.

  Galene dropped back onto the log, legs shaking. Their little group waited a long moment before speaking.

  “What do we do?” Iyana’s face was ashen.

  “Their plan is solid,” Kostas said. “Depending on the obstacles they face, they have a real chance of securing the avyssos.”

  “We can’t let them get it,” Galene ground out. All eyes turned on her, but she just shook her head, unable to say more. She focused on controlling her breathing. Iyana slid over to her, linking her arm through hers.

  There was silence for a while, then Kostas spoke. “This is perfect.”

  Galene’s stomach lurched, and she shot Kostas a fierce glare. Chrysander’s insane, traitorous plan was perfect?

  Kostas met her eyes. “Listen. We can use this plot to prove that you are trustworthy and honorable. This can be your chance to get back to Mount Olympus.”

  Her heart stopped, then leapt in hope. “How?”

  “Chrysander clearly thinks you are the best person for this.” His eyes shone. “If you leave now you can get a head start toward the avyssos.”

  After a moment of stunned silence, voices cried out in protest. Surprise crossed Kostas’s face at the sudden, fierce objections.

  “Galene is not going out there alone…”

  “—unbelievably dangerous!”

  “Chrysander and Poinê…”

  “Okay, quiet!” Kostas snapped, eyeing the scattered gods around them. “We have to keep this quiet.” He huddled closer. “Galene is the only chance to get ahead of this. Iyana and Demitri, you can stay here and watch Chrysander’s group from the inside. Braxtus and I will return to Olympus, where I’ll look for a way to help you, Galene.”

  Galene perked up, holding his gaze.

  “If there really are tests and trials,” Kostas continued, “you’ll probably want some assistance. I might be able to find out what they are, and perhaps even get a blessing from Poseidon to join you underwater…”

  “Why not just return and tell the Olympians what Chrysander is planning?” Iyana asked.

  Demitri shook his head. “Because as soon as the Olympians hear that Galene came straight to Chrysander, they’ll never clear her name. They might not even trust Kostas’s word because of it.”

  “Exactly,” Kostas confirmed.

  “And you are siding with us?” Galene asked Demitri skeptically. “Not Chrysander?”

  He paused, deliberating. “I’m not saying I don’t agree with his motives. Things are wrong on the mountain. But you’re right, this is extreme.”

  “Okay, but even if we do everything you’re saying, Kostas, how would getting the avyssos first prove anything? I can’t just hand it to my father and say, ‘Chrysander is trying to overthrow you; put this somewhere safer.’”

  “No, but we can use it to capture the people responsible for trying to overthrow Olympus. And then the Olympians can question them to verify our story. If they were to realize how big of a movement this is, maybe it would even improve things on the mountain.”

  Galene considered it, then her tangled thoughts landed on a painful truth. They would kill Chrysander. Despite what he was plotting, she didn’t want him to die. Meeting Kostas’s eyes, she somehow knew he had the same thought. Her bottom lip trembled, and she bit down hard.

  Iyana pursed her lips. “That’s all well and good, but if anyone is going with Galene on this trip, it’s me.”

  Kostas shook his head. “No one else can breathe underwater, and you can’t return to Olympus with me.”

  “What about me?” Braxtus demanded. “You’re not going to dump me back on the mountain while you feed your quest addiction.”

  Kostas scowled at him. “That’s not what this is about, Braxtus. Galene needs to clear her name. You can help me with the research, and perhaps we can even find evidence that Galene was framed.”

  Tears in Galene’s eyes threatened to start flowing. This god hardly knew her, and he was so convinced of her innocence. “Thank you, Kostas.”

  “There has to be another way.” Iyana frowned. “It’s dangerous—we can’t just send her out there alone, and there’s no guarantee you’d be able to get to her at any point, Kostas.”

  They’ve already gotten into enough danger because of me. “I can do it myself. Without you, too,” she added to Kostas.

  “No, Iyana’s right; you’re going to need help. After I get your father’s blessing, I’ll catch up to you. As soon as I can.”

  “If you get—” Galene started.

  “What about me?” Iyana asked, furious.

  “You’re not going anywhere without me.” Demitri gave Iyana a fierce look, and she meekly pulled in closer to his side.

  “I told you both,” Kostas emphasized. “You’ll be helpful on the inside here.”

  “Make Braxtus do it!”

  “Why am I suddenly the disposable one?” Braxtus looked at her accusingly.


  “He has to go back to Mount Olympus.”

  “No way!” Braxtus argued.

  “You can’t be alone and you can’t come with us underwater.” Kostas took his arm. “The longer you’re away from home, the more trouble you’re going to be in. If they check in on you and find you unsupervised or swimming in the sea with Galene the exiled, they might very well exile you, too.”

  “Not if your plan works and we save Olympus,” Braxtus countered. “Then we’ll all be heroes.”

  Kostas groaned.

  I might just have to sneak away, Galene thought, heart sinking. Kostas is the only one with a clear head about this. It’s better if I go alone, if … She paused as a thought struck her, and she slipped her hand into her pouch, curling her fingers around the small cone shell. She looked around at her friends, still arguing quietly. She didn’t have to tell them. She could still sneak away, keep them safely out of this and handle it herself. Can I, though? If I fail …

  Tentatively, she withdrew the shell and held it in her palm.

  “What’s that?” Braxtus asked.

  Galene waited for everyone else’s attention. “Before I left Olympus, my father gave me a boon.”

  Iyana’s mouth fell open. “What?”

  Braxtus whistled appreciatively.

  “What kind of boon?” Demitri asked.

  Galene looked at each of them. “Whatever we need from the ocean.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Iyana demanded. “We can all go with you! We can use the boon to breathe underwater!”

  “I really don’t want to put any of you in danger, but I think…,” she sighed, “this is bigger than me.”

  Iyana smiled, her eyes bright. “Galene! We can do this!”

  Kostas was smiling, too. “Iyana, Demitri, and I will accompany you, then.”

  Braxtus threw his hands up. “If you’re all going, I’m going, too!”

  “Even though you could be exiled for staying out here with us?” Kostas asked him, eyebrows raised.

  “This is important.”

  “What about your issue with water?”

  Braxtus’s cheeks flamed gold. “Kostas,” he snarled. “I’m going.”

  Kostas raised his hands as if to say, just remember, this was your choice.

  A smile tugged at Galene’s lips. She might have a way home. But even if she didn’t, she would risk anything to save Olympus. “Thank you,” she said, meeting each of their eyes, “all of you, for believing in me and supporting me.”

  Iyana squeezed her in a tight hug. “Don’t worry, Galene, we’re going to make all of this right. Together.”

  “We’re with you.” Demitri nodded.

  Galene let the smile grow. “So what’s our plan?”

  14

  BRAXTUS

  Braxtus didn’t sleep.

  Despite his heavy lids and the muscles that ached from hours of hard riding, he stared blankly at the tent ceiling. His mind raced as he tried to process the events of the day. They’d fought off taraxippi. Found a rebel camp. And now they were going to race a jumbled group of vengeful gods and goddesses to the avyssos.

  In the sea.

  Underwater.

  Braxtus sent a rush of small flames across his arms, warming him against the thought.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, Galene slipped inside the tent.

  “Wake up, it’s time.”

  Braxtus rolled out of bed and cracked his neck, waiting as the others roused themselves. Iyana stirred in Demitri’s arms, then sat up, rubbing her face until her cheeks were rosy gold. Demitri kissed her head, and Braxtus looked away, moving to Kostas.

  “Is everyone ready?” his friend asked. Braxtus looked around the crowded tent. Faces turned grim, determined. They nodded.

  Braxtus jerked his head at Kostas, and the two of them stepped through the canvas into the night air. Tents clustered around theirs. Above them, the sky was cloudy, threatening rain, but when Braxtus looked to the distance, fog encircled the camp, rising to blend into the clouds.

  They wound through the tents, avoiding the more direct path Iyana and Galene would take to the stables. Kostas chattered uncharacteristically, as though they were merely on a late-night walk. Braxtus glanced back at their tent once, just in time to see Demitri slip out and move in another direction. He fixed his eyes forward again. Iyana and Galene would wait a few more minutes before making their exit.

  Braxtus was rather impressed with Kostas’s pointless, one-sided conversation. Though he didn’t see anyone standing guard, he was sure it was effective in drawing attention to themselves, away from the others.

  They circled back around to the tent, Kostas tapering off his conversation, swishing the tent flaps as though they had returned.

  Then they ran for the stables. Braxtus tried to keep his feet quiet, a rush of adrenaline coursing through him as they passed close to more tents. Stealth was not his strength, but with any luck, they’d be out of there soon.

  He pushed the stable door open, and it struck something. As they stepped inside, he glanced down at an unconscious guard slumped in the corner.

  Just as planned, Galene and Iyana were already there, saddling horses with quick fingers.

  “Any trouble?” Kostas asked.

  “No.” Galene handed them their weapons, and Braxtus accepted his sword and shield gratefully, arming himself. They followed as the goddesses led the horses out the back door.

  Iyana guided an Olympian stallion to Braxtus, passing him the reins with a tense smile.

  They waited on horseback for Demitri. Though Braxtus and Kostas’s Olympian mounts stood quietly, the other three horses jittered. Iyana ran a hand down her mare’s neck, but her eyes kept darting back to the stable. A breeze rustled through the grass, and Braxtus knew it came as a reflection of her emotions.

  Finally, footsteps. Someone spoke from inside the stables. Another voice responded. Braxtus tightened his grip on the reins. If they were discovered, what would they say? Would they leave without him?

  Demitri appeared at the back door, Chrysander by his side.

  Braxtus’s hand flew to his sword, his whole body tensing.

  Galene’s brother froze. “What’s this?”

  Demitri swung his staff, slamming the butt of it into Chrysander’s temple. He crumpled.

  “Sorry, he caught up with me.” Demitri ran for them, and Iyana threw him the reins of the fifth horse. He seized them and swung up. “Go!”

  Braxtus wheeled his horse around and kicked its flank. All of them took off into the grasslands, Galene in the lead.

  “Braxtus,” Kostas called, “light the way!”

  Braxtus snapped, and a spark sprang to life, blooming into a ball of flames between his fingers. He held it up, holding the reins in one hand.

  A single horn blasted behind them, and he looked back to see a few gods emerging from tents, running for the stables. “They know!” he shouted. “I think they’re coming after us!”

  “Faster!” Galene commanded.

  He gave his stallion more rein. Wind stung his eyes and whipped his fire backward. An unnatural chill burnt his throat. They pounded into the fog, and dread rose in him. Whatever had kept the taraxippi at bay in Chrysander’s camp was gone, and Braxtus sensed them returning to the hunt.

  The trees reached for them, whining and snapping in the sudden wind. A scream of a tortured beast pierced the night, echoed by other faint cries that sounded unnervingly human.

  Braxtus pressed his heels into his stallion, moving up in the group until he reached Galene’s side. He flared the fire in his hands.

  “We’re not far!” Galene said.

  Pale figures appeared in his peripheral, but whenever he looked they were gone. Shrieks and chatters rattled through the night, raising the hair on Braxtus’s arms. Galene guided her horse with unwavering certainty, eyes set forward.

  “How do you know where we’re going?” He could hardly even make out the stars through the mist.

&nb
sp; “I can feel the sea.”

  They charged on until all at once, the mist evaporated. They rushed into clear air, the haunting sounds of the taraxippi falling behind them.

  He looked back, slowing his horse. The mist rose in a distinct wall.

  “We must have crossed the boundary.” Iyana rode beside him, eyes wide with relief. Braxtus closed his fist, putting out the flames.

  “We can’t slow down,” Galene called over her shoulder. “We’ll be easier to follow without the mist.”

  Braxtus gritted his teeth and urged his horse on. They rode through several knolls, the land lowering until it opened into a dark, shifting expanse glimmering with reflected starlight.

  The Aegean Sea.

  The horses’ hooves hit sand.

  “We need to find the first marker!” Galene stood in the stirrups, squinting along the shore. “It should be close. We came due south, like Chrysander said.”

  “What does it look like?” He jumped down from his horse and dropped the reins, lighting both of his hands. He focused, and the flames grew large, casting flickering light across the beach.

  “I have no idea, but it would definitely stand out. It wouldn’t be called a marker for nothing.”

  The others leapt off their horses as well, scanning the scattered rocks and shells. Braxtus moved down the shore toward a cluster of craggy gray rocks, beaten into strange shapes by stormy waters. Something different. Keeping his hands aloft to share the light as much as possible, he dragged his eyes along them. There!

  Almost touching the water was a stout, silvery granite stone, worn smooth and half-buried in sand. It was striped with fissures of a different rock Braxtus didn’t recognize, but the golden hue stood out, even in the dark night. He ran to it, sliding to his knees in the wet sand. Putting out the fire in one hand, he touched it.