His tears wet his cheeks, splattering the ground. He didn’t even bother to wipe them away. She was gone, transformed into a tree. His mate, his beautiful Melita, was a bloody tree. He lifted his head, sobs shaking him as he extended his hand to prod the bark. Rough, cold. Nothing like her. The only thing even remotely like Melita was the faintest scent of honey.
His grief consumed him. The thousands of warriors surrounding him disappeared from his vision, leaving only him, and his tree. What had she done? He shook his head. Understanding evaded him. Why? How?
Footsteps to his right disturbed his lamentation. He glanced at Philaeus brandishing an axe. He’d removed his helmet, a sneer upon his face. “Now, to end you, Melita.” He raised the axe and prepared to swing it.
Thereus exploded. She might be a tree, but she was not dead. He’d burn in Tartarus before he allowed Philaeus to cut her down. He launched at Philaeus, tackling him to the ground. His fists pounded into the Lapith prince with frenzied abandon. “You will not touch her,” he growled, sounding more animal than human.
Philaeus tossed his hands in a pathetic attempt to protect himself, too much of a weakling to even fight back. A piercing pain stung Thereus’s shoulder, but he ignored it, his lust for blood consuming him. Suddenly, he was knocked off Philaeus and bound, his face smashed into the dirt. He snarled at whoever dared interrupt his feasting.
“Brother, calm yourself,” Agrius commanded, yanking Thereus’s hair.
He struggled, but with his brothers holding him down, he couldn’t break free. The pain of losing Melita slammed into him. While he’d been attacking Philaeus, the agony had dissipated, replaced with fury. Now that he was forced immobile, the anguish speared him anew. His Melita was gone. Turned into a bloody tree.
“She wouldn’t want this, brother. Don’t discard her sacrifice.”
Though his limbs were clasped close to his body, he was being drawn and quartered. Whilst some sadistic god toyed with his heart. He winced as the valley reverberated with a symphony of voices, too loud for his ears to bear.
Cheiron’s voice rose above them. “Enough. Philaeus, you have your revenge. Recall the myths. Melita will never again be human. This battle is over. Even the gods would not sanction your actions. Stand down your army or face their wrath.”
Thereus raised his head and watched a bloody and bruised Philaeus cower before scurrying to the safety of his guards. Vengeance might be something the gods would permit, but with Melita’s sacrifice, Philaeus had no cause for war. No justification to break the treaty the gods had put in place.
Thereus slumped to the ground and his brothers released him. He wasn’t going to fight anyone. Every sensation drained from his body, becoming as numb as his heart. Was it true? Was there no reversal?
“I am sorry, my son.” Cheiron set a gentle hand upon Thereus’s shoulder. “It is the way of her people. They must have gone to her. None of her kind is ever permitted to become human again. I do not know if even the gods could make it so.”
Agrius wrenched an object from his shoulder, likely an arrow, but he took no notice of the pain. The agony in his chest was far greater.
Cheiron sank to his knees beside Thereus. “Melita was one of the bravest women I have ever known. Her sacrifice will be honored. Her bravery, her courage, her gentle nature, we will remember these. She refused to flee while others would die for her. You must accept this, Thereus. In time, you will cherish the great gift she bestowed upon us.” Sighing, Cheiron stood and departed.
One by one, his brothers placed their hands upon his shoulders, the gesture speaking more than words.
The sun rose high in the sky. The day that should have seen bloodshed was simply another day. The armies cleared. Soon, only the trampled grass and billowing dust remained, a reminder of what might have been. Of what had been avoided.
Yet Thereus lingered, lying upon the earth, neither seeing nor feeling anything. He crawled to the tree and slumped against its trunk. She’s just a tree now. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to go. He didn’t care if she was but a tree. What if some small part of her existed in there? If anything remained of his Melita, he would not abandon her. Thereus settled against the Manna Ash. If his Melita was stuck in this spot, so was he.
He’d find a way to free her—the Fates be damned.
Nothingness. The tendrils of oblivion enveloped her, caressing her with their eternal slumber. She neither recalled her name, nor who she had been.
Voices surrounded her. The others. Her consciousness joined theirs, a single note in a vast ocean of melodies. In their whispers, she caught traces of her new existence, enough to discern what she was. A half-human, half-nymph who’d transformed into a tree. Curious that.
You are one with us, the voices chanted. You belong.
Despite their embrace, she felt nothing. No contentment. Neither sadness, nor anger over what she’d done to herself. This transformation. Perhaps a tragedy had struck her in her human life, a reason why she’d chosen this path.
The way of our people, they echoed. Rather than die and have their souls go to the Underworld, nymphs became part of the Earth.
I am a tree.
She embraced the sunshine on her branches, accepting Apollo’s gift through her leaves and nourishing herself. Her roots sank deep into the fertile ground, soaking in the water she required.
Peaceful. Calm. Serene.
Empty. The thought resounded. How strange. She was not empty—her form was well-sustained. None of the others spoke of “empty.” Yet the word remained, floating in her being.
A warmth spread against her bark. Not as intense as the sun’s rays. An animal? Yes, little one, make your home in me.
She hummed, fulfilled by the idea. Giving comfort pleased her. The animal remained at her trunk. It did not burrow or crawl upward to create a nest. The creature must be too large. How sad, if she could feel sadness.
The voices rose, a murmuring that gradually amplified. Then one word. Mother. She connected with the other. This other, the one who called herself Mother, caressed her with her essence.
In her human life, had she been Mother also? Pain shot through her branches, down the center of her trunk, to the tips of her roots, though her physical form was unharmed. Her thoughts were not supposed to be painful any longer. No suffering, the voices promised.
They lied.
***
“Brother,” Agrius growled in his ear. “It’s been three days, brother. You cannot stay by this tree forever.” Huffing, he planted himself beside Thereus.
He didn’t care what the centaur had to say. They’d all come. Each had failed to persuade him to go. He wouldn’t abandon Melita. As long as he remained beside this tree, he felt something. A connection. If he told the others, they’d conclude he’d gone mad. From something worse than the lyssa.
Agrius sighed. “Thereus, you have a son. He’s lost his mother. He needs his father. Melita wouldn’t have done this had she not been confident you would care for Lucian.”
Thereus eyed him. A low blow. Of course, Lucian needed him. The child was distraught, but Lucian needed Melita. He did too. When the others weren’t around, he spent his time alternately cursing and pleading with the gods. He’d either earn their pity or their wrath. In either case, they would visit him. Perhaps aid him. Or at least put him out of his misery.
He groaned. What a coward. Agrius was right. He had to be strong for Lucian. It was so damned hard. His will to live had been sucked out of him. In the short time he’d known her, Melita had consumed him. He couldn’t resume his old life, or move forward. Without her, he was nothing.
Empty.
He leaned his head against her bark. A part of him argued that Melita had been everything to Lucian. He was new in the lad’s life, and the boy was young. In time, he might forget them both. Thereus was a broken man. In no position to raise a child. Hell, he couldn’t even pull himself together.
The only one who seemed to understand was Oreius. He came a few times to
sit with Thereus, but he’d not spoken once. Oreius supported him. His brother hadn’t been able to save Sarra, but if there’d been even the smallest chance… Aye, Oreius would be sitting here just as Thereus was.
The goddess he cursed most often was Persephone. She’d led him to this fate. Her scheming winds had blown him toward this course, knowing all the while how it would end.
Agrius clapped him on the shoulder and strode off. Thereus noted the basket he’d brought and grudgingly opened it. Food held no flavor anymore, but he wasn’t about to starve to death. He fully intended to find a way to restore her and he’d have to be strong to do that. So he ate, fortifying himself.
“Melita, I will save you,” he whispered against her bark before placing a kiss. Tree or nymph, she smelled the same, and her scent comforted him. She was inside. He sensed it. Time to blaspheme against the gods enough to get their attention.
“Persephone!” He jumped to his feet, gaze skyward. “A goddess of beauty? Ha! Yer gums be bloody sponges, yer breath rotten as the scurvy.” Well, he’d been a pyrate for five years, had mastered their filthy language. He only hoped Melita didn’t hear him.
“As for you, Hades, blow it out yer bilge, ye screw-eyed jelly-boned shyte bucket! Have a meal of me fist!” He shook said fist at the ground, toward the Underworld, determined to force the gods’ attention. He’d met Persephone before, so she’d better appear now. After recruiting centaur warriors for her War, he damn well deserved an audience.
“Demeter.” He directed his attention to the fields in general, hands thrown out in defiance. “Damn you, goddess, for creating those bloody nymphs, ye weasel-hearted worm-suckin’ spineless maggot. Bloody useless lard-brained screechy chunks o’bat spit, the lot of you!”
The skies darkened. Clouds built overhead. A flash of lightning streaked the sky as the rains came down hard. “Nice work, Demeter, but I’ve seen better from a bloody sorcerer!” With a clamped jaw and clenched fists, he prepared to battle whatever the gods manifested. No longer caring of his own welfare, he simply craved an answer. A response of some kind. He refused to accept this could not be undone.
The rain soaked him, the damp seeping into his bones. He brushed his wet hair from his eyes and stood, waiting. An hour, perhaps two? Finally, he plunked down beside his tree.
Instantly, the skies cleared. The rain ceased and the clouds vanished, but the darkness remained. A heavy fog arose from nowhere. Thereus braced. Aye, at last a response.
A brilliant flash of light. Violet. Persephone. She materialized, her glower rippling in rage. He’d never witnessed her angered. When he’d last met her, she’d begun with “Be at ease, warrior.”
Not this time. Thereus almost cringed. Almost. She wasn’t one of the twelve Olympians, so her powers were lesser. He didn’t doubt Hades would do anything to please his wife. Hades was one of the most powerful, some would argue, second only to Zeus.
Thereus debated whether to bow, but decided against it. The goddess was angry at him? Well, her temper could not compare to his righteous rage. He was a bonded centaur who’d had his mate stripped from him. Nothing in this world, or the gods’, invoked more terror than him.
“Persephone, how kind of you to grant me an audience. At last,” he grated, sounding nowhere near civil.
She glared at him. “Your arrogance knows no limits, Thereus.”
He growled, low enough to let her perceive how volatile he truly was.
Dressed in a shimmering gown of lilac silk, the tall, lithe goddess had violet eyes, and dark, nearly black hair flowing to her waist. Though she was ancient, she took the form of a young maiden, timeless in her beauty.
“Tell me what I must do to change her back.”
Her eyes flashed at his command. Too bold, but his horse refused to be reined in. He would writher and die without Melita.
Persephone pursed her lips. “There is no reversal. What you ask cannot be done.”
“Then you are not as powerful as I believed.” He turned his back on her, pronouncing over his shoulder, “Leave, so I may call upon a more potent god.”
Fury rolled off her, the heat scorching his flesh. He smirked. She’d succumbed to his tactics. Persephone was considered “lesser.” As the gods were infinitely vain, this must be a torment for her.
He spun around. “You were the one who told me to find her, goddess. Were not you to orchestrate this as you did for my friends? For Arsenius and Kyme? You gifted them their mates, yet you stood by whilst mine was turned into a bloody tree.” He swept his hand toward the Manna Ash.
She clasped her hands elegantly in front of her and studied him. “How was I to conceive…” As a goddess, she should have known. She’d made an error. That was why she’d responded to his summons.
“Tell me what I must do, Persephone. I’m worthless to you without her.” He crossed his arms. “The centaurs will not fight for you, either. I’ll make certain of that.”
Her delicate features assembled into a scowl of perfect beauty. “The transformation cannot be undone, centaur. Since the beginning of time, no one, not even Zeus, has been able to venture into their realm. Trust me, he has tried. Many a nymph has thwarted his lustful attempts thus.” Her frown softened. “Indeed, I am sorry for your loss. This was not part of our plan. We required Melita as much as you for our War.”
Thereus arched a brow. “How so?”
Persephone pressed her finger to her temple. “Her powers are great, but it is your love which makes her strong.”
Her words jolted him, echoing with ones that had passed through his mind once before. He narrowed his gaze on the goddess. “You sent the wolves.”
She lifted her chin. “Yes. A test, to see if you were ready. Together, you were a key to our victory. Now, we must determine another course.” She stared into the distance for a moment before studying him. “I regret I cannot aid you, Thereus. Like you, I grasp what it is to suffer the loss of my love. Winning this War is the only way Hades and I can be together.” Her violet gaze fixed on him and pleaded.
This was the Persephone he recalled. A gentle soul, lost without the god she loved. For the first time, he noted what the others had. A cause worth fighting for. The longing came and went as quickly. Tearing his focus away, he shook his head. Without Melita, he would be useless to them.
With the grace of his noble birth, he knelt. “Great goddess, who knows of loss and suffering, I beg for your aid. There is nothing I would not do to restore my mate. Aid us, I implore you. Restore my Melita, and we will serve you for all eternity.” He bowed his head and waited.
Persephone let out a deep sigh. “Centaur, if it were so simple. Had she died, I would have asked my husband for her soul, but she is in a place we cannot travel to. However, because of your great love, I will try. For you, I will visit my mother.” She paused. “Whom I have not spoken to in centuries,” she added, emphasizing her sacrifice. “If there is any method for god or mortal to enter their realm, Demeter will know. She, of all the gods, perceives the secrets of the Earth nymphs. I do this not only for you. Melita’s bravery has touched us. Even now, on Olympus, the harps sing praises of her. I do not promise you success. If my suspicions are correct, your Melita is lost forever.”
Thereus lifted his head and met her swirling violet gaze. “Thank you, goddess.”
She smiled warmly at him as she gently touched his shoulder. “Be at ease, warrior.” Before she flashed away, Persephone titled her head. “Oh, and Thereus, next time you wish to speak with us, dare not utter such filth. The sole reason your head is still attached to your body is because the gods sympathize with your grief. They will not permit such hubris a second time.” She disappeared in a flare of light, stunning him.
Hope, that beautiful fluttering butterfly, filled his body. He crept to Melita’s tree and set his shoulders. Hope bloomed in his chest and he refused to release his grip on it. “Melita. I know you’re here.” He caressed her bark tenderly, as he would have her skin, and rested his cheek against her trunk
. “I vow, my sweetling, I will never give up. I will see you restored, my love.” He wrapped his arms around her trunk, clinging to the fragile hope that was his.
He kissed her bark once more. “Melita, I will save you.”
The warmth departed her side for the first time in days. Poor creature, so faithful, yet it required sustenance. Why did the loss of the warmth make her so empty? There it was, that word again.
She asked many, but none knew what it meant.
We don’t feel, was the consensus. You are simply adjusting, proclaimed others. They were right. Trees didn’t experience sadness, or happiness. Those were emotions, reserved for humans and animals.
Her companion, was it content? The question plagued her. She desired its contentment. Would the creature return? She prayed yes. She didn’t like being alone. Yet she was surrounded by others. A sea of voices. She was not alone.
Goddess, the whispered word grew until everyone chanted.
Goddess? The voices clashed against each other. The raucous, an onslaught against her mind. Too loud.
She withdrew, seeking silence. The one called Mother floated to her and stayed with her. Then a tender warmth. Its warmth. Her companion was back.
Deep inside her essence, she clung to the warmth. It wasn’t natural. She wasn’t supposed to want for anything, yet she craved this. And another one, much smaller. Precious.
This one, this one she had to protect. She would give everything so this small one experienced that word—happiness. Whatever that was.
The other word—empty—was banished.
A new word took form.
Home.
She didn’t comprehend its meaning, but she latched on to “home” with all that she was.
***
Two days had passed since Persephone’s visit, yet time passed differently for the gods. He’d presented Persephone with an insurmountable task. Still, he grew restless. Staying beside a tree—the most immobile of creations—wore on him. He longed to gallop across the meadow with Melita upon his back, to swing his sword in practice with his brothers, to chase Lucian about the castle. The dear child didn’t understand that his “Mama” was a tree. He was as stubborn as Thereus in refusing to leave her.
Earth Borne Page 24