The Immortal Game

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The Immortal Game Page 25

by Talia Rothschild


  Galene sprinted out of the trees with the rest of them, adrenaline coursing through her as she headed for a fanged wolf.

  Before she reached it, it shrank into a crouch, ears flattening, eyes darting everywhere. Galene took advantage of its distraction, leaping into the air and driving her scimitar into its side. It fell, thrashing. She jerked her scimitar free and looked at Dionysus.

  The creatures and gods all around him screamed, terrified of something, though nothing was there but him. Gods dropped their weapons and ran, some back, some in circles. Others fell to the ground in a stupor as Dionysus cut them down. Galene caught a glimpse of his eyes—a spiraling mess of red and purple, spotted with yellow and black.

  She tore her gaze away.

  A thick root shot from the earth at her feet, tackling an enemy goddess and wrapping her in tight coils. Jumping over her, Galene drew one of her knives, hurling it at a harpy. The creature fell, the blue hilt protruding from its chest. Galene retrieved her weapon, fleeing back to the woods.

  Reaching out with her mind, she seized the waters from the river behind her. She hauled on it, feeling it respond, racing for them. It’s not the ocean, but it’ll do.

  The rest of the group was in the battle now, too. Some stayed in the trees, manipulating things from a distance, some ran into the army and chaos followed them.

  Eris moved like a nightmare. The Goddess of Chaos seemed to teleport around and through Poinê’s soldiers in a veil of shadow, not even fighting, just moving. Like Dionysus, wherever she went, creatures ran amok—screaming, raging, falling with no apparent cause.

  Huge monsters lumbered among the army, like giant pines amid scraggly oaks. A third of the strike team converged on a giant cyclops. Persephone twisted her wrists to coax thorny branches from the earth. They snatched its ankles and arms, pulling it down as others peppered it with attacks. The earth trembled as it toppled to the ground.

  The thunder of moving waters filled her ears. She had to move or she’d catch her comrades in the tidal wave.

  Galene ran down the line. A daemon woman leapt at her. Her sword glanced off Galene’s helmet as she ducked, setting it ringing, but she sliced her scimitar across the daemon’s chest, sending her down hard. She kept running.

  Galene pulled the waters after her as she hurried farther along Poinê’s ranks. The water was almost there, a huge mass of it rushing through trees and undergrowth. She heard the roaring, the snapping and creaking of branches somewhere behind her.

  Galene turned to the open field. A two-headed dog charged her.

  She squared her shoulders, focused, and hauled her wave forward.

  The water parted around her, then crashed into Poinê’s army. The dog went under. Gods and goddesses flattened like reeds in the wind, monsters struggling not to be swept away by the powerful currents.

  Before too many of them could recover, Galene ran in, slashing and stabbing the dark creatures before she staggered back into the trees, reaching out to the river again.

  42

  IYANA

  Rows of Olympic warriors slammed into Poinê’s army of monsters.

  The power and momentum of the first waves looked promising—Iyana was even able to make out Braxtus far below her, charging into the enemy line, driving a sphinx back with scorching fire—but it quickly proved not to be enough. The beasts reared, some of them taking to the skies, all flashing teeth and guttural roars. A dragon dove into the ranks, spitting blue fire and swiping with massive talons, wrecking a hole in the formations. It took nearly fifty deities to ground and overwhelm it.

  Behind Iyana, a few of the Olympians had spread out before the boundary line, some at the base of the towers, others hovering in the air. All focused their unique, substantial power on the enemy forces. Athena stood on the closest tower, watching as the sentries reported to her, calculating and strategizing on her own. The earth down the mountainside rumbled, throwing ranks into disarray as Poseidon stretched out his hand. Hephaestus stood by in smoking armor, releasing whirring artifacts and creatures in intricate battle-gear as he saw fit. But to Iyana, her father was the most impressive.

  Zeus’s figure had grown larger, fingers glowing with charged energy. He towered like a giant on the back of his equally massive steed. The Gryphiekin was now fitted with gleaming armor, and he swept past Iyana along the perimeter. He turned his orange eyes in her direction, as though he sensed the power she had taken from him. Zeus noticed and looked over, nodding her way.

  She’d spoken to her father briefly before the battle, seeking him out with a strange sense of urgency. Zeus had taken one look at her and knew what she was going to ask.

  “You saved your friends when you took the Gryphiekin’s power,” he’d reminded her.

  “Yes, but … I kept it, too. I wanted it.” She didn’t add that she still wanted it, that she dreaded its loss if he asked that she return it. But she had to know.

  Zeus had contemplated his response, then said, “Iyana, the Gryphiekin is a mighty creature, but he’s still a creature. He doesn’t miss it. Besides, that power was part of the reason he was dangerous enough to be put in the avyssos to begin with.” A smile tugged at the side of his mouth. “You wear the power well. I think you were meant to have it all along.”

  Remembering the bolstering words, she raised a hand at her father in good luck.

  Iyana turned back to the battle. Athena had given her direct and specific orders: watch the strike teams and report the resulting casualties, but more importantly, search the army for signs of Poinê and the avyssos. She shot toward the right flank of the army, eyes narrowed against the wind.

  The battle grew uglier by the minute.

  Iyana called out many times to report to Athena, letting the wind carry her voice, but the numbers grew harder to track, and the awful sight of blood and ichor below made her stomach churn. There was very little glory in what she saw—weapons hitting other weapons and bodies; screams of dying monsters, creatures, and gods; formidable strength and speed and anger.

  Dwarfing it all, destructive forces clashed. Zeus targeted their ranks with well-placed strikes of lightning, but with all the explosions, flashes of light, shadows, and elements rising up in battle, it was hard to tell what came from which side.

  Far down the mountain Iyana could see the last of the warriors of the avyssos, bottlenecked by the forest on either side as they all tried to push up into combat. Olympus had long since run their last wave, and nearly everyone they had was in the thick of the fight.

  They were losing ground, being pushed slowly up toward the boundary line.

  Iyana raised her hands, calling on the power within her. Air rushed around her, eager to be released. She refined it into a hundred spear-like shafts and hurled them all at once into the untouched enemy lines.

  A few rows of smaller monsters smashed into the ground at this unforeseen challenge. Some staggered to their feet after a moment of shock, others were trampled by allies that pounded on. Feeling slightly gratified, Iyana looped back around to update Athena on the side assaults, getting close enough that she would be able to hear Athena’s response.

  “Most of Dionysus’s strike team no longer has the cover of the woods,” she called into the wind. “They’re deliberately cut off and being pushed back toward Olympus with the rest of the army. They’re holding their own, for now. Persephone is out of commission, but she’s made it to medical. Permission to join and help them?”

  Athena didn’t take her eyes off the battle as she answered. “Fighting is not your responsibility, Iyana Unnamed. Focus. We need you to find Poinê and the avyssos.”

  Frustrated, Iyana swept back out again. I thought I’d be able to help more, she thought. Eventually, I’m going to watch people I love get cut down. She took a deep breath. Find Poinê, like Athena said. That will help.

  It’s not like she wasn’t trying. Poinê hadn’t exactly been drawing attention to herself, and there were so many people to search through. Though she could see most
of the battle, the enormity of the field made it practically impossible for her to make out individuals. She raised her hands to call her wind again.

  The air currents moved through the battle, tripping and tumbling over and around numberless creatures of every size. The picture it painted in her mind was overwhelming. It was an entire sea of swinging, yelling, moving warriors. How was she supposed to find Poinê?

  She sent it out again, this time focusing on one area at a time, trying to ignore all those without human shape. Kronos, I don’t know! She could be anywhere!

  She flew over the ranks of the enemy army, heading toward the back lines. Maybe she was directing her forces from behind.

  The end of the army was in sight, her wind showing her monsters and gods alike, racing to get a piece of the action. Few of Olympus’s soldiers had fought their way this far back. No one stood out as Poinê.

  With a curse, she turned away.

  Then her wind, almost like an afterthought, showed her three beings trailing behind the army, keeping their distance.

  She turned, eyes searching, until she saw them.

  They were nothing more than dots at this distance, but to her they were unmistakable—Poinê, Chrysander, Demitri. Iyana’s hands shook. Not with fear, not even with anger, but with restraint as she turned from them, instead following orders and looking for the closest Olympian.

  Ares was easy to find, roaring and single-handedly battling a chimera. Iyana dove, streaking toward him, willing the air around her to swell and move her faster.

  “Ares!” she shouted.

  He flipped around, cutting his battle-ax toward her in the air. With a gasp, Iyana swerved to miss it and pulled back, hands up. “It’s Iyana Unnamed. I found Poinê!”

  His blood-red eyes seemed to focus for an instant. “Where?” he growled.

  Iyana just pointed to the outer edge of the battle. Ares’s eyes followed her finger, then he took off, throwing people out of his path as he barreled toward the Goddess of Retribution.

  Somehow, Iyana doubted she had done the right thing, but she raced back toward the tower like an arrow, shouting into the wind to Athena as she did so. “I found Poinê! Ares is after her.”

  A moment later, she could make out Athena leaning over the tower wall, searching with her eagle eyes.

  A crack like thunder rang across the battlefield, followed immediately by a shock wave. Iyana lurched forward as it hit her, and she tumbled through the air for a moment before catching herself again, swinging around to gape at the battle below.

  Nearly everyone had been knocked off their feet by the blast, and the air … Iyana’s breath caught. The air was shimmering with streaks of silver and gold. The same hues and transfixing colors of the avyssos.

  A roar of triumph went up from the enemy lines, and beasts and dark gods surged forward, cutting through their opponents with a sickening, renewed energy. Iyana turned to look back at Athena, who was still leaning out over the tower. She appeared to be shouting something. Iyana reached out with her wind and snatched Athena’s words, carrying them to her.

  “She trapped Ares in the avyssos!”

  Iyana’s stomach jolted. Their best warrior, gone in an instant.

  She flew higher to try to get another glimpse of Poinê, and her eyes landed on a flying chariot pulled by pegasi racing to the back of the battle. Artemis stood, raising her bow.

  “Artemis saw where he went, she’s going after Poinê, too!” Iyana yelled to Athena.

  The response on the wind came instantly. “Tell her to pull back! Now!”

  Iyana shot toward Artemis. “Artemis, Athena says to pull back!” She threw her words forward on the wind, but she seemed too far away to hear.

  The Goddess of the Hunt fired a slew of arrows at Poinê.

  The three small figures dropped, Chrysander and Demitri raising their shields to defend their leader.

  Artemis dove closer.

  Then vanished.

  The pegasi swerved in the air, unsure where to go.

  Boom.

  Another shock wave hurled Iyana backward, silver and gold painting the air.

  Two Olympians gone.

  Iyana twisted the air around her, righting herself as the armies below heaved back to their feet.

  “Give the order to retreat!” Athena’s words cut to her on the wind. “Have them pull back inside the boundary!”

  Two of the other sentries—Nephelai, who had been circling the tower—scattered to obey. Iyana dove, streaking toward where she’d last seen Apollo, eyes searching frantically. She found him glowing, covered in blood and ichor. Braxtus fought at his side, teeth gritted, swinging furiously. The two of them were surrounded on most sides, barely holding their ground. “Apollo, Braxtus!” she shouted. Braxtus’s eyes flicked up to her, but Apollo only grunted his acknowledgment. “Retreat to the boundary! Hold the line there!”

  “Retreat!” Apollo bellowed.

  Iyana shot off again, but the Nephelai had already spread the word. As the entire army of Olympus retreated step by step, Iyana flew back to the boundary, touching down beside Athena.

  Athena’s eyes looked restless, but she held her composure well as Olympus’s warriors started to back up through the barrier, the top ranks passing unharmed. Monsters and gods roared as they hit the shield, trapped on the other side. The quiet behind the barrier seemed like a sigh of relief, and gods and ally creatures lowered their weapons as they made room for more to enter to safety, savoring what little rest they had.

  “Athena,” Iyana started. “Poinê is still—”

  A shaft of dark purple light shot over the ridge and shattered against Olympus’s shield wall. It rippled in their direction, rolling off the front of the tower.

  “What was that?” Iyana demanded.

  Another arched down and cracked against the barrier.

  “Hecate,” Athena said darkly. “Goddess of Witchcraft and Doorways.” She placed her hands on the tower wall, and white light seemed to flow from her fingers, seeping into the shimmering barrier, slowly strengthening it …

  But Iyana looked up just in time to see an entire volley of purple light coming for them a moment before it pummeled the defenses.

  Iyana fell to the floor as the world shuddered, and with a sound like breaking glass, Olympus’s defenses between the two towers crumbled.

  43

  BRAXTUS

  Olympus’s barrier burst, shattering and dissolving to dust between the two Southern towers, so close Braxtus could have reached out and touched it.

  With only an instant to react, he swung his shield up, shoulder to shoulder with his fellow Olympic warriors. They rushed to lock their shields in defensive formation.

  A wave of triumphant monsters surged past the boundary line and slammed into him.

  Braxtus roared, leaning into the assault even as he slid backward from the impact. He’d traded his broadsword for a spear, and now used it to thrust over the shields. Sweat dripped down the side of his face as he jabbed and shoved, the monsters before him a tangle of snouts and fangs and talons.

  “Hold the line!” Zeus swooped in, the Gryphiekin’s claws snatching monsters below. A flash of lightning raised the hair on Braxtus’s arms, and the smell of burning flesh hit his nose. The pressure against him eased. A few soldiers cried out with renewed courage, and their line staggered forward a few feet.

  But the enemy came again, a wall of harpies, boars, gorgons that pounded into his shield. Just beyond them he could see even bigger creatures—a manticore leaping for them, scorpion tail rising behind its lion’s body.

  Someone dropped from the closest tower, directly in front of the creature.

  Athena, in all her deadly precision and battle-glory, swung at the beast in a cold fury just ahead of him. Though slight, she was agile, leaping and tumbling. The manticore went down.

  A minotaur barreled in to take its place.

  His father Apollo leapt over the shields to join her, glowing with power. Braxtus lost sight
of them in the chaos. He dug in his toes and thrust again. Just hold the line.

  As Braxtus buried his spear into a gorgon, the weapon snapped. He let it fall from his fingers, focusing on keeping his shield up. He didn’t dare use his fire so close to his comrades.

  A Calydonian Boar, several heads taller than the shield formation, swung its mighty tusks. It cracked against Braxtus’s shield and would have thrown him back but for the soldiers behind him, keeping him pressed up against the enemy. His neighbor fell. Braxtus gripped his arm, pulling him back up and into a tighter formation.

  To his right, the line was breaking.

  We’re not going to be able to hold them.

  44

  KOSTAS

  Through the shimmering waters of Iris’s Rainbow Glass, Kostas watched the line holding the enemy at the barrier break. He gripped the edge of the bowl until his fingers hurt, trembling with fear and fury as creatures and gods tore through the hole, flooding onto Olympus’s soil.

  Whirling, he staggered past the amphoras of Ares and Athena, already empty at his feet, to seize the pitcher on Apollo’s stand. Making it back to the glass, he sloshed the new liquid into it.

  “Show me Braxtus.”

  The image zoomed in, blurring through warriors to focus on a god now surrounded by enemies. A few younger deities fought beside him, slamming shields and swinging blades at a group of traitor gods. Ahead of them, a giant lumbered forward. Kostas’s heart stumbled.

  He’d seen Ares and Artemis get captured. Somewhere at the very back of that dark army, Poinê was wielding the avyssos. It was a good strategy—stay in the back as the army rampaged the Olympic forces. Capture anyone who came near. And then, when they were weak and overwhelmed, walk through with the avyssos and finish them off.

  He took a deep breath. This battle cannot be won with straightforward combat. By the looks of things, it wouldn’t even last a few more hours.

  Before the image in the glass faded, Kostas was moving. He hobbled as quickly as he could out of his mother’s grove, breathing labored due to the bandages still cinched around his chest. Dressing himself in the infirmary had been difficult enough, let alone what he was about to attempt. There’s no choice. Kostas went over his plan, again and again, making tweaks and adjustments as new questions popped into his mind.

 

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