I walk over to him, slowly. Steadily. My knives lie on the ground before him—one gold, one bloodied. I kneel next to him and pick them up. The knives will stay in my hands, between us.
“Kahina,” he gasps. Blood gathers at the corners of his lips.
I glare at him. I find I can muster no pity, not even as his last breaths choke out of him. Atalanta stands, tensed, waiting for him to make a move. “This isn’t about me,” I snarl. “How many girls are in that temple?”
His eyes are wild, unfocused. Hippomenes falls onto his back, his hands trying desperately to stop his bleeding. I bolt to my feet, and stand over him. I press one foot above his wound. “I can make this more painful, Hippomenes. I swear it.”
“Just—just three,” he wheezes.
“Just three?” I step on his wound anyway. We will not be leaving Delphi without them. He screams, and it echoes through the silent city, off every marble pillar and every mountain of the valley.
“I’ll be sure to send our fathers your wishes.” I put all my weight into my foot, then twist it.
His screams die to nothing. My breaths shudder through me, and I nearly fall to my knees. But Atalanta moves to my side, staring stonily down at him, and I find the strength to stand. The sounds of battle grow louder behind me, and I know I need to move on. But I stare at him, the sudden memory hitting me—we’re younger, so many years ago, running through the markets in Corinth. He turns back to me, those green eyes alight with a simple joy.
My jaw quivers. I’d forgotten there was a time before this. Before he changed. I try not to look at the red staining his face.
The shock wears off soon enough, the noise of clashing blades pulling me back to the present. The battle is not over. I wheel myself around to find Phelix, but he’s not there. I search madly through the conflict raging between the temples before us. Across the dusty plains, the priests and huntresses are locked in combat. Nikoleta’s taken one down, but seven still remain—she and Isidora are taking on three by themselves. The rest are in the throes of combat, and I run to them as fast as I can. Killing Hippomenes has made me tired, but braver.
It gets worse the closer I get. I’d assumed that Artemis’s huntresses would make quick use of Apollo’s young priests, but now, I’m certain he’s instilled them with some gifts of his own. I notice that Kassandra and Phoebe have swapped their bows for daggers as they move closer in. Nikoleta is a nightmare incarnate, giving and dodging blows like a goddess herself.
Isidora stands back to back with her, letting loose arrows at an alarming rate. They rarely aim true in the chaos, but I smile as she lands one in the thigh of an approaching man, and he staggers to his knees.
But when I look at Apollo, my small hopes are dashed. He and Artemis are in their own world, using their magic to keep the other at bay. A dome of silver light emanates from Artemis, and it clashes against the golden light of her brother’s. They edge closer to each other, but power and force from their light—mixed with their own arrows—locks them in a stalemate.
Finally, Atalanta and I catch up with the others. Atalanta jumps into the melee, tackling two priests down at once. I keep my breathing steady as I aim my knives at the ones Atalanta pins down. So much was stolen from me in Delphi. I will take it all back.
I manage to cut one of the priests down, but the other one gets back up with only a wound in his arm. Atalanta takes him down again, and an explosion of gold erupts at the edge of the temple, where the twin gods fight. Artemis crashes into the ground, and not even she can conceal the pain on her face. Apollo approaches her steadily, casually, a golden mist hovering around him. The huntresses all hesitate, and so do I. To help the goddess would mean turning our backs on the blades already attacking us, but to ignore her feels deeply wrong.
Everything slows down, and I hear Isidora scream Phelix’s name. I jerk my head toward them and see him run toward the goddess whose temple he’d once destroyed, his sword primed. His chest is still dark with red. Isidora struggles against the priests alone, and keeps looking over at him, fear wild and complete in her eyes. Atalanta makes a whining noise, and my heart tears itself in two. What is he doing?
My heart skips a beat. We stagger toward him and the gods. Will you and this little Hunt win today? It couldn’t mean—I swallow roughly. I have to make it to Phelix. Now I understand the fear in Isidora’s eyes, the rampant panic overtaking her features. Time and distance stretch before me as I realize the truth.
The other huntresses keep taking down the remaining priests, oblivious to what’s about to happen. It makes no difference—let them kill as many of Apollo’s men as they can. Atalanta, Isidora, and I sprint across the field, glad that the priests don’t fight with arrows. I have to reach him, I have to stop him.
Suddenly, I don’t care at all if we lose today. Not if it means saving him. Artemis screams at Phelix to get back—this is no place for a mortal. But he doesn’t even react. His eyes are blank and toneless as he faces Apollo. The god he’d worshipped more than any else. The god he’d made a temple for, to spite Artemis.
“Get back, Kahina!” Artemis shouts as I run to them. At my name, Phelix glances over to me, Isidora, and his sister. The slightest sign of fear—for us—shows in his eyes.
I know, even now, that I will blame myself forever. Look back, I yell. Or maybe I think it. But no one, divine or mortal, can turn their back to a god like Apollo for even an instant.
Because that’s all it takes. Just one instant.
Apollo flicks a careless finger at Phelix. Gold light bursts from his hand. He doesn’t even have time to turn around. His eyes stay locked on us, and I scream as he falls to the ground. I go completely still. My chest seizes—I can’t breathe. I can’t move.
“No!”
Isidora tears across the field, collapsing on the ground beside Phelix. Her shoulders heave, and frantic tears drip like crystals from her eyes. I can’t move. I can’t think. Apollo raises his hand in Isidora’s direction. I brace myself for Apollo to kill us all, until I realize Artemis has launched herself back onto her brother, renewed through rage.
She glows silver, and Apollo calls out for his priests. No reply comes. Nikoleta and the huntresses stare coldly back at him, all eight of his priests lying motionless at their feet. Their bows are primed and daggers red—all pointed at the god.
It doesn’t give me an ounce of satisfaction. Not with Phelix crumpled at his feet. Isidora’s sobs wrack through her whole body and echo painfully through the valley. Atalanta’s eyes could burn cities.
“You won’t touch another one of my huntresses again,” Artemis says levelly.
“Oh?” Apollo laughs. “After killing all my priests? That’s what you have to say? Come, now. You know I cannot be killed.”
“I know,” Artemis replies. Nothing about her is fragile, but I feel like I’ll blow away on the next wind. “But you can still feel pain.”
Eight birds flutter into the sky above us.
Artemis snaps her hand. “And you really, really shouldn’t have messed with animal magic.”
Apollo raises his eyebrows, unimpressed, as the eight birds land on the ground. Artemis saunters out of their way, and they expand into eight enormous lions. Tears well up in my eyes, and Atalanta grabs onto my arm as the pack of lions pounces onto Apollo. He scrambles backward, and now he can’t bother disguising his fear.
“Phelix,” Atalanta cries, and she falls to her knees, crawling to her brother. I follow her, shaking, as the lions herd Apollo closer and closer the edge of the cliff. Isidora leans over Phelix, speaking words I can’t hear over the chaos. There’s so much to take in at once, and my head throbs with the onslaught of sounds.
I cling to Atalanta as Apollo looks over at his sister. The lions make one last shove over the cliff, turning back to birds as they fall. Phoebe rushes to the edge of the cliff, her bow still at the ready.
She stan
ds at the edge for several seconds, then looks back to Artemis. “There’s . . . nothing. How can there be nothing?”
“That’s what I expected,” Artemis sighs. She closes her eyes, and the slightest tremor rocks her frame. “But he’s not here anymore.”
Not dead. Not even gone. Just not here. Atalanta and I reach Isidora and Phelix. My heart wars with fear and dread. I run my eyes along Phelix’s body and, for a desperate moment, I wonder if a tourniquet can be fashioned, but Apollo’s magic doesn’t seem to have given him a tangible wound. Still, Hippomenes raked his chest badly with his claws, and when I see Phelix’s eyes, I know it’s hopeless. He stares up, unable to focus on anything specific. His gaze is so far away.
“Oh, gods,” I whisper. Tears spill over. Isidora holds his head in her lap. She whispers words too quiet for me to hear, even when I sit next to her.
Atalanta’s lips part. She shakes her head silently, tears falling freely from her eyes. Artemis stands above us, her face grim and empty. I do my best to meet the Lady’s eyes. “There’s three girls inside,” I whisper hoarsely.
She nods in understanding, and motions for the others to go inside the temple, led by Nikoleta. They stare at Phelix for a moment before running into the darkness between the pillars. Artemis sighs and steps backward to give us space.
Phelix heaves a breath, and I realize this is my last time to see him. Atalanta grabs at his hand, and I clutch the other. “I’m so sorry,” she says.
“Sorry?” Phelix coughs. His voice struggles to be heard. “No. I’m sorry, sister. I’m so sorry you never got the family you wanted.”
“That was you, idiot.” Her voice is thick. She looks to the heavens, her face crumbling. “Please . . .”
With effort, Phelix shifts his gaze to me. I shake my head, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Don’t. Please don’t,” I beg. He gives me a soft smile, and my chest cracks in half. “You will go to Elysium. I don’t need to be an oracle to know that.”
He smiles at that. “I’ll see you there, then. But not for a while, okay?”
“Phelix—”
“Promise me you’ll care for each other,” he chokes. Atalanta and I glance to each other across him.
“I promise,” she whispers.
“I feel stupid now, Isidora.”
She blinks back tears, stroking his hair away from his face. “Why, Phelix?”
“I thought you and I had that.” He manages a short laugh.
“I loved you,” she insists. “I always loved you.”
Glancing between the four of us, I realize just how many types of love we share. And how much it hurts to lose them all. Isidora sobs into his scalp, and Atalanta and I keep holding his hands. We know what comes next, but when his smile begins to fade away and the life spills from his eyes, it does nothing to stop the wave of pain.
“No,” Isidora whispers. “Please.” The pressure in my chest builds, and when Artemis nods, it breaks. I sob into my hands and lean all my weight into Atalanta’s side. She holds me as Nikoleta slowly kneels next to us, grasping Isidora’s shoulders. Her face betrays no tears, but when she looks across to me and Atalanta, I see her bite her lip. Another wave of agony crashes through me, and I clutch Atalanta tight.
I don’t know how much time passes, but then I sense Artemis standing above me. I blink up at her, though it does little to break the veil of tears. Artemis stares, expressionless, down at us. Slowly, she lowers herself until she’s beside Isidora. She glances at Atalanta, then touches Phelix’s chest, over his heart, and slowly, his body dissolves into nothing.
Not nothing.
A hazy boundary of marble rises from the earth, surrounding the space where he had been. We all stagger backward and watch as marble builds itself up out of the ground, like a flower reaching for the sun. It shapes itself into pillars with a modest roof, a small brazier nestled beneath it. His name is etched into the stone. After a few moments, I understand.
This is the temple. The one I was meant to destroy; the one he’d built himself out of anger and heartbreak. It stands now just as it did when I first saw it in Arkadia, but it’s now standing tall among Delphi’s other temples and shops and treasuries.
I glance behind me. Nikoleta and Isidora recognize it, but their brows are creased. Atalanta, still clutching onto my arm, meets my gaze with tearful eyes. This city nearly ruined us, but now we get to leave one of the best parts of ourselves here to stand forever. I’m not sure what pushed Artemis to do this, but some of the anger I’d felt toward her melts away.
We all stare up. The sun is still bright in the late-afternoon sky, catching every angle and aspect of Phelix’s temple. I can imagine it standing for thousands of years, a blazing light in the middle of a dark city.
I try to find Artemis, to thank her. But she’s already walked away—she stands at the entrance to Apollo’s imposing temple, waiting with her shoulders pressed back as the rest of the priestesses of Delphi stumble out of her brother’s realm.
The girls were hard to find, Nikoleta tells us. They’d been kept in the darkest, deepest caverns of Apollo’s temple. They lean heavily on the huntresses as they emerge back into the light, and my heart clenches at the familiar sight. They’re each wildly different—from lands far and wide, I’m sure.
I wonder how the Delphic fumes affected them, or if Apollo cursed them as well. Lady Artemis rushes to them with water and food, which they accept quickly. She speaks to them in low tones, and I have a feeling the girls will like their offer.
I manage to smile at them. They’ll find a home with these girls, just as I did, even if I was never meant to stay. Atalanta and Isidora still stare at Phelix’s temple. It’s jarring to see the familiar sight outside of Arkadia, but I make myself walk back and grasp Isidora’s arm. She looks to me. This is not a wound that will heal for her—maybe not ever. “You were right,” she says weakly. “We did lose today.”
I look over the silent city. She’s right. But we also saved those girls. Isidora wipes away more tears, and I touch her shoulder. If anyone knows strength, it is Isidora. And I will never let her feel alone. She leans into me, and says, “I take it you’re not coming back to the Hunt?”
Atalanta still stares up, but I know she’s listening to us. “I don’t think that would be appropriate,” I tell her. “But you know I will visit. You know you are always welcome in Corinth.”
Isidora sighs wearily. “Well, I expected as much.” She pauses. “You know, I seem to remember from my last time here . . .”
She trails off, glancing at Apollo’s temple.
“What?” I prompt her.
“The opening corridors of that temple have obscene amounts of gold and silver.” I frown at her. She doesn’t exactly smile, but her voice sounds a bit more like her own. “So save Arkadia.”
As the sun sets, I offer for Isidora to come back with us while she recovers, but she stays with the huntresses—like I expected. Like she probably should, with Nikoleta and the other girls and nymphs. They offer me and Atalanta good luck as we tell them goodbye, and make me promise to see them soon. Atalanta lets them know they’re welcome to race her anytime, and she gets more than a few challenges.
Artemis only nods at us as they leave on horseback, bags of gold and treasures strapped across their backs. I did give her one request, since I figure the goddess owes me some things after all she’s put me through. The Hunt will see the treasure to Arkadia, with a message to King Iasus. He and Nora will decide how best to run the polis for themselves, since they have no more children to marry off.
Atalanta’s eyes are puffy as they ride off, and I figure we’ll go back to Arkadia someday. Not forever, and certainly not for a while—but someday. Nikoleta waves to me as she rides past, and I let myself forgive her for the time she spent waiting and hiding in Apollo’s temple before taking action. She fixes her gaze forward again, and I realize that, for the
first time in years, my mind is quiet. It’s as if a faint, persistent hum finally faded out—one I hadn’t really been aware of until I felt its absence. I’m not entirely sure if that means my days as an oracle are gone, but my instincts tell me Apollo got the message. I exhale. My mind is mine again.
Isidora’s amber eyes are blank as she waves goodbye to us. At least I know she won’t be alone. She glances behind herself one last time, and Atalanta and I crane our necks. Phelix’s temple stands across from Apollo’s. In defiance, almost. Or at least in that quiet strength that always coursed through his veins.
When the last hoof echoes fade, Atalanta and I finally stare at each other through the darkness. We retrace our steps back to the columns of her brother’s temple. In contrast to the emptiness of Delphi, this place feels full. There’s something powerful about standing here, together, in the city that once nearly destroyed us both. She reaches for my hand. There’s a million words to say between us. But they’re words that we have a lifetime to speak. The blankness of the future stands open for us, and I swallow hard. The stars wash the mountains in silver light, and I trace Atalanta’s cheek with my hand.
“What are we supposed to do now?” I ask. She catches my hand.
“I thought that was rather obvious,” she says. “You’ve got a fleet of ships waiting for you.”
“Corinth,” I exhale, remembering what I’d promised Isidora. After so many years, I can go home. Home. I nod at her, the ghost of a smile returning to my face.
She stares at me inquisitively. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“I thought that was rather obvious.” I pull out my knife, and motion for her to pull out hers. “But first . . .”
On the floor of the temple, we carve our initials into the marble. It takes time and strength, but we let Delphi know that it never conquered us. I stare at our letters, side by side, and trace them. We sheathe our knives and glance at each other before stepping out of Phelix’s temple for the last time. The starlight is bold enough that I can see every slope of her face, and every tiny freckle across her nose. I reach over and run my fingers across her braid, messy and coarse. It’s so different from the one I stared at as I tracked her through the Calydonian forest, long ago.
Outrun the Wind Page 25