The Immortal Game

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The Immortal Game Page 21

by Talia Rothschild


  Demitri planted his feet as Braxtus reached them, letting Poinê move away. Braxtus swung, but Demitri moved like lightning, blocking Braxtus’s blade with his staff. Demitri’s ice eyes were lit with energy. “I’d say don’t be a fool, but that’s exactly what you are. All of you.”

  “You murdered Kostas,” Braxtus snarled.

  Demitri snorted. “Kostas. He was the biggest fool of all. Even with his gifts he was blind to my role.”

  “You bastard.” The handle of his broadsword grew hot in his grip.

  But there was something about the way Demitri pushed back, making Braxtus retreat, that made him pause. He wants to distract me from Poinê and the avyssos.

  With enormous effort, Braxtus shoved away his anger. He attacked, trying to find a way past, but Demitri matched his every move. Braxtus took his sword in a two-handed grip, striking more furiously, but Demitri twisted his staff back into two thin swords and easily held his ground. Braxtus retreated a step.

  Then, with a fierce battle-cry, someone came hurtling out of the mist, tackling Demitri from the side. Shock crossed Demitri’s features an instant before he crashed to the ground. Iyana wrapped her arms and legs around him in a practiced grip to keep him down. Demitri twisted in Iyana’s vice, but seemed reluctant to fight her.

  Braxtus hesitated for an instant.

  “Go!” Iyana shouted at him, redoubling her efforts. “Get the avyssos!”

  Braxtus ran.

  32

  GALENE

  It was too much. All of it was just too much.

  She raced down the hill after her brother, bare feet slapping the rocks. Tears blurred her eyes, and her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. She could hardly breathe as she pushed her body to its limit, sobs still shaking her lungs.

  Kostas. Gaia, Kostas had fallen.

  She wanted to scream.

  Dashing a hand across her eyes, she tried to concentrate. I can’t let any of them leave.

  Chrysander was way ahead of her. His feet hit the sand of the short beach. A small rowboat waited to take him, Poinê, and Demitri to the ship. Chrysander stopped before it, waving his hands to the crew at sea, signaling.

  Galene’s ankle twisted as she sprinted onto the hard, wet sand. Barely managing to avoid spraining it, she staggered forward. “Chrysander!”

  He ignored her. Done with his message, he put his foot on the rowboat, waiting.

  The sea rushed in, grazing her toes. High tide was fast approaching, but Galene threw out her hands, shoving the sea back with all her might. The water fled, leaving Chrysander’s boat stranded on the sand.

  “Galene.” He finally acknowledged her.

  She kept the water out, holding the fighting tide at bay as she turned her attention to the ship.

  “Galene!”

  She kept her focus on the sea, ignoring the pain—her heart aching, her lungs burning, her brain begging for reprieve, and now the strain of holding the tides. She let it go and yanked at the water, willing it to rock the ship.

  The surf came crashing in, cold water rushing over her ankles. She pushed it back out, gritting her teeth and shoving, then hauling the tides toward her again. The water rushed higher, to mid-calf. She released it to flow back, only to bring it hurling in. The ship began to sway.

  “Stop!” A force hit her, gripping her shoulders and shoving her down into the solid sand.

  It took all of Galene’s concentration to not lose her grip on the sea. She ignored Chrysander holding her down, ignored him as he yelled into her face. She just pushed and pulled. The tide soaked her tunic and hair as it washed over her. The tremors in her muscles redoubled with shivering. Her mind went fuzzy.

  “No, Galene!” He shook her, lifting her a foot and throwing her back against the sand. “Stop it!”

  She couldn’t, she wouldn’t. This was the last thing she could do for them. If Braxtus and Iyana couldn’t get the avyssos back, she was the only thing standing between Poinê’s band and their escape, the only thing stopping them from bringing an army to Olympus. Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes. She could feel the ship tilting, but it needed more.

  “Stop it, Galene, you’ll kill yourself!” Only then did she hear the panic in Chrysander’s voice. He slammed her down again, the tide striking her face, flooding into her nose. It washed back. “Galene, stop!”

  Just a little more, she told herself. Just a little longer.

  33

  BRAXTUS

  The mist on the ground turned the rocky clifftop to an eerie reflection of the Land of the Taraxippi. Braxtus lit his free hand violently enough that the flames shot up over his head. He scanned to see where Poinê had disappeared.

  A dark shadow formed in the mist. He spun toward it, raising his broadsword.

  Crack! With a flash of pain, a welt opened up on his shoulder. Braxtus put out his fire, swinging his shield off his back and raising it in defense. Crack! Something snapped against it, jarring his arm. Poinê laughed, and Braxtus risked a quick glance over his shield.

  She looked different. Her skin had tightened over pointed bone, and fully black eyes glinted from hollow sockets. She stood with a now clawed hand curled protectively around the avyssos, the other holding a whip by her side. She smiled at him. “Come now, do you think you can stop me?” Her voice sounded like hissing.

  The next two strikes he caught again on his shield. I’ll never get within reach of her. Not with those whips. He sheathed his sword, lit his hand, then hurled a ball of fire at her.

  Poinê darted out of the way. Braxtus threw another, but she was gone again. “Kronos!” he swore, trying to keep his shield up and still see where she went. He lobbed a few more fireballs in her direction. Her laughter rang around him.

  A blaze sprang up where a fireball hit, brighter and fiercer than his original sparks. Did something catch fire? He lowered his shield a bit to see better, but the moment of distraction cost him.

  Crack!

  His cheek split open, pain shooting through his face. Reeling backward, he fell, smacking his head on the rock. Stunned, he fought to sit up, vision swimming.

  “Thank you, Braxtus,” Poinê cooed. Her silhouette stepped up to the flames. Extending her hand, she dropped the avyssos into his fire.

  “What are you doing?”

  Ripples of silver and gold spun out from the blaze, painting the air until it seemed to shimmer. Poinê’s beastly face looked distant, focused. Braxtus barely caught her whispered words. “I release you from your prison, Gryphiekin.”

  His stomach seemed to drop through his body. The fire went out, leaving the glimmering dust behind. In stark contrast to the settling glitter, darkness converged, swelling where the fire had been. It morphed and grew, solidifying.

  Poinê scooped the avyssos from the ground, pocketing it. She half-turned toward Braxtus. “I gave you a chance, and you decided not to take it. Farewell, Braxtus. We have a mountain to storm.”

  Braxtus didn’t watch Poinê rush away. He staggered to his feet, keeping his eyes locked on the shadow that rose, darker than the night, until it obliterated the stars. A steady thrum, thrum filled the air as sharply curved wings beat heavily, lifting the enormous beast from the ground. Air buffeted his face, an elegant neck arched proudly, and a beam of moonlight gleamed off a wickedly hooked beak.

  “Right,” he muttered. “King of the Gryphons.”

  34

  IYANA

  Iyana hit the ground on her side. She let out a growl and lunged at Demitri again. Her arms strained from repeatedly trying to keep him down, but she had to stall him. He was humoring her, but even that delayed him from joining Poinê.

  She twisted his arm behind his back, yanking it upward. A sound of impatience escaped him. “Iyana, honestly—”

  Fast footsteps sounded as Poinê raced through the darkness to their side. Iyana’s heart dropped. Braxtus failed.

  “Time to leave.” There was a gleam in her dark eyes as she tucked the avyssos into a fold of her robes. She beckone
d once, then started down the hill.

  Before Iyana knew it, Demitri had twisted free again, gripping her arm instead. “Come on, Iyana.” He started to pull her after Poinê.

  She dug in her heels and jerked her arm out of his grasp. “After everything you’ve done you think I’d stand by you?”

  Frustration crossed his face. “Stop being ridiculous and come on. It’s not even about us right now. Your life is at stake. I’m saving you, once again.”

  Anger and disbelief pounded through her. “No. I’m not going.”

  “Iyana—” He started forward, reaching out to drag her.

  “Are you deaf?” she shouted, backing up. “I said no! Get away from me!”

  Demitri’s blue eyes widened, her words seeming to finally sink in. Shock and anger roiled in his expression, and she felt a glimmer of satisfaction.

  “Demitri,” Poinê called forcefully, looking back. “Now.”

  “Have it your way,” Demitri spat at Iyana. “If you survive tonight, one day you’ll come running back.” He turned, jogging after the Goddess of Retribution. “You need me.”

  “I don’t need you!” she screamed at his retreating back. She reached for a spike, but he was quickly swallowed in the darkness.

  Lightning flashed, thunder cracked just a second behind, echoing around her. She looked up.

  The sky had blackened to an empty void. Lightning illuminated it again, splintering between swirling, dark clouds. Wind that was not her own picked up, rushing with the unnatural storm. If you survive tonight. A chill rose on Iyana’s arms. Where’s Braxtus?

  She turned and started running in the direction he’d gone. The scent of rain filled her nostrils, but none fell. Clouded night cloaked everything, making it hard to see beyond a few feet in front of her. “Braxtus?”

  “Stay back, Iyana!”

  She skidded to a stop.

  With a flash of lightning, a monstrous figure lit up against the night sky.

  Iyana’s mouth went dry.

  She knew the Gryphiekin instantly. Glossy, golden eagle feathers interlocked like armor, smoothly transforming to fur halfway along his back. Massive wings beat to keep him aloft, and his powerful body ended with a whipping lion’s tale. The jutting, lowered brow made his gleaming orange eyes angry, fierce.

  The lightning vanished, taking the image of the Gryphiekin with it, but now that she knew he was there, she could make out his silhouette.

  And something else—a thrumming power that emanated from him. Ancient. Strong. A physical force that summoned the storm crackling above them. A piece of Zeus’s power.

  Her control of the wind was dwarfed in comparison to what she now sensed.

  Sudden amber light blazed to her left. Iyana looked to see Braxtus standing ahead of her in a ring of his own fire, chest heaving. He held up a battered shield, sweat and ichor trickling down the side of his face, but he stood tall as he faced the Gryphiekin.

  Iyana choked on a sob. He was as good as dead.

  Not knowing what else to do, she ran for him as he made his futile stand. The Gryphiekin pounded the air with his wings as he circled once, then plunged, massive, curved talons stretching open for his prey. Braxtus roared and his fire shot higher, but it didn’t faze the beast. Claws descended and snatched him, swooping back up in the air, climbing quickly.

  A scream stuck in Iyana’s throat as the Gryphiekin dropped him.

  35

  GALENE

  “You can’t do it, Galene, just give up!” Chrysander was still shaking her. At some point he’d propped her onto his knee.

  Her head lolled against him. She could hardly feel the sea anymore. Were the waves still moving? The ship. Was the ship still upright?

  “Please, please, just stop. You’re hurting yourself.”

  Was she?

  Her mind fluttered in and out of lucidity. Chrysander’s face was above hers, screaming. Crying. Crying?

  “Kronos, Galene.” That sounded like a sob.

  Her hands fell, hitting the beach. Water washed over her shoulders, then hurried away. The sound of hissing waves ebbed and flowed in her ears. The water met her again, rushing up higher, brushing her chin. The tides were still moving, but her mind was quiet.

  My gift is working without me.

  It was sapping her energy, draining her life, triggered by what she had called it to do.

  Galene summoned every ounce of concentration she could, then severed her hold on the sea. Her muscles relaxed with the water around her, which rushed out to settle in the sea. When the tide came back, it only lapped against her legs.

  Chrysander sighed and slumped.

  She rolled onto her hands and knees, wet sand splashing onto her wrists. Seeing was difficult, but despite her blurry vision, she made out the rowboat in shallow water, and behind it, the ship bobbing right side up, unharmed. Galene collapsed.

  She’d failed. Her power cowered within her, and blackness coaxed her mind toward submission. She was tempted to let it take over.

  “Galene.” Chrysander’s face appeared above hers again. He shook her shoulder. “Galene, you need to go.”

  Go where?

  “Poinê and Demitri are coming, you need to get out of here. She won’t spare you anymore.”

  Light flared in the sky, thunder cracking.

  Poinê and Demitri. Iyana and Braxtus. Head throbbing, muscles shaking, Galene pushed herself up. Hands helped her to her feet, but she swayed.

  Chrysander nudged her away. “Go,” he urged.

  She blinked, staring at the slope. Two figures ran at them. Sudden fear struck her. Were Iyana and Braxtus even still alive? She couldn’t see anything at the top of the cliff, just stormy darkness.

  “Go!”

  Chrysander pushed her, and she staggered, somehow keeping her footing. Her feet kept moving. Every time they hit the sand, she felt the weight of the world slamming down on her. How was she still standing? Where was she going?

  The sea was a cold, shadowy, useless mass to her left, the cliffs rising like a threat to her right. Above her, storm clouds roiled in anger. There was no one she could run to—she had to stay out of sight of the boat before she climbed to the top of the cliff for Iyana and Braxtus. And Kostas—

  Kostas.

  Galene’s staggering steps broke into a run. She hugged the cliff wall, scanning the sand desperately. What if he was still alive, somehow? The hope that fluttered in her chest hurt almost as much as watching him fall.

  Then she saw him—a crumpled form in the sand, curls getting soaked by the waves. “Kostas.” Her voice was barely audible, even to herself. “Kostas!”

  How could she be moving so slowly? She was running, wasn’t she? Had it started raining, or were those still her tears? She stumbled, fatigue nearly crushing her again. Kostas. The thought revitalized her. She pushed herself just a little harder and his face came into view.

  Galene fell, a sob tearing from her lungs.

  Gold ichor pooled around his head, his bare arms and legs stained with deep golden bruises. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, his body still.

  She clawed her way to him, shuddering with sobs.

  “Kostas!” Her voice was raw. She should have tried to help Iyana save him, should have used whatever strength she had left to catch his fall with the tide.

  Hunching over him, she brushed her fingers across his skin, searching for the smallest sign of life. His chest seemed motionless, but she moved her trembling fingers to his lips.

  “Please, please, please,” she begged the Fates. “Please, please, please.”

  The tiniest feather of warmth brushed her hand.

  Falling over him, she sobbed into his broken chest. He’s alive. He’s alive.

  But for how long?

  Everything had gone wrong. She thought she had been doing what was right. Instead, she’d handed them the very thing they needed to destroy her home.

  She looked up just as another flash of lightning illuminated Poinê’s ship, pull
ing away from the island.

  “What do I do?” she whispered into the night. “What do I do?”

  36

  IYANA

  Braxtus tumbled head over heels toward the ground.

  Not again, not again!

  She threw her hands out, heaving on her ability. Wind swept in. The fall wasn’t as high as Kostas’s had been, and the wind steadied him, but Braxtus still hit the clifftop with a crack.

  He still didn’t rise.

  Something within Iyana crumpled, an overwhelming helplessness crushing her where she stood. Kostas was gone, Galene had chased after her brother, now Braxtus had fallen. She was alone and hilariously outmatched.

  The Gryphiekin dove to finish Braxtus.

  How many times was she going to stand by, helpless?

  Iyana called to her wind once more. She pulled back her spike, then hurled one, two, three, one after the other, into a mighty gust. The silver missiles streaked toward the beast and struck his enormous shoulders.

  The impact probably felt like nothing more than small stones to the creature, but she got his attention. He rotated in the air, swiveling to look at her with one amber-gold eye.

  Iyana blasted air at him again, as much as she could muster. His feathers ruffled slightly, and the beast swooped up, angling in her direction. Heart jolting, she scrambled a few steps back. His claws stretched forward …

  Thunder cracked at the same time he landed before her, setting the ground trembling as he tucked his wings by his side.

  She was an ant, nothing more, in comparison to this magnificent creature. Another glimmer of lightning illuminated his body, glinting in his shrewd eyes—eyes that were locked on her. He lowered his head, as though analyzing a strange phenomenon. His head was bigger than her. Staring back into that vicious creature’s gaze, Iyana understood. He recognized her for what she was: Zeus’s kin. Another who had claim to the skies.

  His electric power thrummed against hers.

  The storm quieted.

  From the stillness rose a shout. “Iyana!” The distant, anguished cry floated up from below, somewhere at the base of the cliff. “Iyana, are you alive?”

 

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