Eros Island

by Lucinda Betts, Dawn Thompson

  “Chiron,” I called from the pond. “Don’t go! Don’t die!” With my cupped hand full of water, I walked over to him, careful not to spill a drop. “The Tears of Eternity can heal!”

  “No,” he croaked when saw what I was about to do. “You’ve already incurred one curse. Let me,” he gasped, “do this one.”

  He took my hand in his and dumped the water along the wounds. “Heal me,” he commanded of them, and the wounds mended themselves, closing as if time flowed backward.

  I looked at him, at the wounds, wondering if my eyes could be believed. “Are you…?”

  “By the Mother Goddess, that hurt,” he said, standing to his feet. The blood on his coat and skin dried and blew away. His copper hair and coat shined, as if a smith had polished him to a high gleam. “But Earth Shaker is…”

  “He’s gone,” I said. “For now.”

  Chiron shifted from centaur form to human, running his broad hand over his abdomen. “I feel wholly myself.”

  “Are you sure about that?” I asked, raising my brow at his throbbing cock. “All of you?” I let my fingertips trail over his chest. “Shall we make certain you’re correct?” With that I flicked the tip of my tongue to his lip, and he was mine. He leaned into my kiss as the scent of crushed flowers surrounded us.

  His lips drank in the soft skin along the top of my breasts. My nipples reached for him. “You saved my life, Chiron.” My tongue savored the salt of the sweat on his chest.

  “And you saved mine.”

  His intention lit that flame of desire in me. “We need to get these Tears to the Mother, and what about Lycurgus?” I asked.

  “He can wait.” Chiron scooped me into his thick arms and ran his tongue between my breasts. “But I cannot.”

  Then he laid me back, our mouths blending, tongues flowing in concert to music only we could hear.

  We embraced on the crushed carnations. Like the flowing sea, our movement swelled into a promise of orgasm. Our bodies joined, sex to mouth, mouth to sex. Then sex to sex.

  Finally, exhausted, my lips and tongue strained, my nipples and core aching, I opened my eyes. Chiron was worshipping me with his eyes.

  “I could envy you mortals, when I see love like this,” the Mother Goddess said.

  Where she’d come from and how long she’d been watching, I didn’t know. I cared not, either. Still, we both stood in her presence.

  “The Lapith King failed to satisfy you?” Chiron asked.

  I thought it a bold question but the Mother just laughed, stroking one of the black serpents that twisted around her forearm. “I fear I wore him out.”

  But then the owl on her head screeched, “Truth!”

  The Mother added, “But he’s escaped, and he’s gone to your palace, Princess Akantha.”

  “To Palace Knossos?” I asked stupidly. “Couldn’t you stop him?”

  She didn’t take umbrage at my tone, though I regretted the impetuous words as they fell from my mouth. Still it was my palace on which Lycurgus and Earth Shaker would wreak havoc. I didn’t want my villagers homeless and destitute as were those of Palace Phaistos.

  “Without the Tears I lacked the strength. Earth Shaker still lends Lycurgus power—I couldn’t exorcise him.”

  “Hope,” the owl said, preening its wing with its hooked beak.

  “My pretty one,” The Mother crooned, stroking the owl as it hopped to her arm. “Thank you for the reminder.” She looked up from the bird and said to me, “Yes, hope exists thanks to you two for finding the Tears of Eternity. I still lack the ability to free the Lapith man of Earth Shaker’s hold—the mortal likes it too much—but he’ll no longer have the ability to shake the earth on his whim.”

  “So we can defeat him,” I said.

  “Bring him down, and I deliver the Lapith to his fate—I’ll remove him to…” The Mother Goddess seemed to sift through options in her mind before she decided. “Thessaly. Defeat Lycurgus at arms, and all Lapiths shall find themselves in Thessaly, which should keep them from causing mischief here.”

  “And Earth Shaker?” I asked.

  “The sands of time will find him in Thera,” she said, “if you succeed. Which brings me to your fate. I told both of you that the Tears weren’t meant for mortals, and you both used them.”

  Feeling the warmth of Chiron’s arm next to mine, I knew that whatever the cost, I wouldn’t regret it. But that bravado didn’t quiet my nerves.

  “What’s the cost, Witch?” Even in the presence of an immortal, Chiron radiated command.

  “Do you know how the Tears of Eternity came to be?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “An immortal loved a mortal, and such a love cannot be. Their tears made the pond.”

  The owl turned to Chiron and said, “Fate.”

  “Yes,” the Mother agreed. “Fate. If you vanquish Lycurgus, Lord Centaur, fate will grant you both eternity; you’ll live forever.”

  “Forever.” Chiron said the word flatly.

  “You will live long enough to see people forget the names Earth Shaker and Mother Goddess, only to learn new ones, forget those and learn anew—you will see cities erupt from the ground and blow away with the dust. You will gain such wisdom that the immortals will send their children to you.” The owl looked at him and blinked. “Yes, Lord Centaur. You will both live forever.”

  Then the Mother Goddess gave Chiron a sassy grin. “You have your chance, Lord Centaur.”

  “Chance?”

  “She’s seen your skill with one sword; show her your skill with the other.”

  8

  E ven as we galloped over the fissure-ridden ground toward my palace, I could see something was wrong.

  Folk were gathered around the arena, and royal pennants from the surrounding palaces flew from the dais—from my dais. The octopus of Palace Kato Zakro flew next to the dolphin from Palace Gournia, and I’d invited no one, not yet.

  Worse, hundreds of soldiers filled the area, and each wore the emerald green of the Lapiths. The Lapith King was hosting the Mother Rite—the choosing ceremony for the champion who’d rule beside me for the next seven years.

  “This is preposterous,” I told Chiron. “The Mother Rite cannot be held without me.”

  “Well, you’re here now, Princess, but don’t go running up the dais quite yet.” He slowed to a trot and then a walk behind the bull barn.

  “Why not?” The clanging of swordplay filled the air. Someone was trying to choose my champion for me. I could not permit this under any terms.

  “You’re naked, love, save your snake.” With a wicked gleam in his eye, he pulled me into his massive arms and kissed me. Hard.

  “I could say the same to you.”

  “Now wish me sweet fortune before I enter that arena and flatten every man, every creature, who tries to come between me and you.”

  Dressed in my formal flounced skirt and my fitted bodice, I pushed my way to my throne. The Queen of Kato Zakros narrowed her eyes at me as I walked past her—Lycurgus had influenced her, I saw.

  The combat had paused the moment my constituents heard of my arrival. The situation was not beyond repair.

  “People,” I called, once I’d gained my throne. Letting my voice carry over the gathered throng, I held up my arms to command their attention, and my sea-green robe hung theatrically, perfectly complementing the forest-scene fresco behind me. But it wasn’t pygmy elephants and river hippos painted on walls that interested me today.

  “I’m glad you’ve had the opportunity to prepare yourselves for this event!” I nodded to the combatants standing at ease in the arena. “Today I will choose my first champion,” I said in a booming voice. “As is the right of every woman in our land!”

  The crowd hooted and cheered, but I could feel Earth Shaker’s dark presence. Lycurgus’s soldiers glowered on the sidelines, and evil pulsed in the air.

  “People!” I said again. Keeping my arms above my head, I let the strange afternoon sun glint off my bronze battle va
mbraces. I wanted to remind the gathering of my power, the power held by the Minoan Queen.

  I could override generations of tradition, and I planned to do it. Waiting until the noise fell back, I paused before I said, “Unlike any Mother Rite of the past, this one will be open to humans—and centaurfolk.”

  Dissatisfaction simmered among the villagers, and I heard a noblewoman hiss in her breath beside me. “What?” someone cried from below me. “They’re hung like ho—”

  I knew objections would come, and I wasn’t mistaken.

  “You’ve a death wish, Princess!” someone called.

  “But what a way to go!” This came from a woman standing behind me.

  I held my temper. My people didn’t know the worth of our hooved neighbors, but they’d learn—assuming Chiron and I succeeded in subduing Earth Shaker.

  A black cloud had gathered on the horizon, and the wind blew cold in unpredictable gusts, whipping arena dust into our eyes. The same volatile mood fermented in the folk below.

  “If a worthy centaur exists today,” I declared, “he will rule beside me until the next choosing!”

  I’d hoped for sporadic cheers, but chill silence met my proclamation. Led by the Lapith soldiers, people shifted discontentedly. Then angry murmurs filtered from the sidelines up the dais. “This cannot be, Princess Akantha,” a riled voice called from the crowd, breaking the silence.

  Lycurgus’s work. Or Earth Shaker’s.

  “I challenge you!” he said. Ezio, a man of minor nobility from Palace Malia, walked across the arena toward me. He had the lanky grace of a bull leaper. “I challenge your right to allow centaurs!”

  My heart thudded as the clouds continued to coalesce on the horizon. If I had to best Ezio to allow centaurs in the tourney, so be it. The lanky man’s skill lay in graceful leaps over running bulls, not in swordplay or archery. Women of my line had been leading men into war against the mainlanders for generations.

  “Ezio,” I said. “I’ll slaughter you like a goat for a sacrifice.”

  “Prove it, Princess.”

  Shrugging from my robe, I vaulted over the short wall into arena. I landed with my dagger extended, a handspan from his chest. “Daggers,” I said, naming the weapon. “Arm yourself.”

  “A woman’s choice,” he spat.

  “Then it should be natural for you, Ezio.” Who did he think he was?

  “You won’t win this, Princess,” he said. “No one wants Knossos to be ruled by a centaur.”

  “Make no mistake, Ezio. I and only I rule this land—regardless of today’s outcome.”

  Then I turned toward the throng. “Move back,” I shouted. I didn’t know who had already battled for the right to take part in the tourney, but I needed to invalidate it. “The match between Ezio and me,” I declared, “shall initiate the Mother Rite!”

  Still Ezio stood before me empty-handed, his dark bull-leaper’s braids dangling to his shoulders.

  “What?” I said to him. “Are you missing something critical?” I let my gaze fall suggestively to his crotch.

  “I have what I need,” he said, slowly pulling his blade from his belt.

  “Are you certain?” I asked. “That’s a remarkably…short blade.” I taunted him with a grin. I knew exactly how anger could interfere with good sense.

  And it worked. Ezio lunged at me with none of the grace for which he was famous. Hoping my full skirt of flounces didn’t hinder me, I stepped to the side—and stuck out my toe.

  Ezio tumbled to the ground at my feet, ire reddening his face.

  “Do you really seek to rule by my side?” I said as he stood.

  He wiped dust from his loincloth. There was something about his stance…Ezio feinted toward me, but I was ready.

  His blade glanced harmlessly off my left vambrace. I let it slide the length of my forearm as I spun around. My skirt swooshed around his shins, and I hoped it distracted him. Years of vaulting bulls had made him strong, and resisting his blade was difficult.

  Still, I did resist, and this pushed him off balance. As his blade hit the lip of my vambrace near my elbow, I jumped toward him, quick as a snake. Ezio leaped back—but not quickly enough.

  My blade found his throat and pressed against it.

  “Do you give?” I asked as the crowd shouted around us.

  “She wins!” he shouted. “I do not denounce her right to invite centaurfolk to the tourney.”

  But ill grace lurked hard behind his eyes. I’d not won a friend here. “Let men and centaur decide the Mother Rite by the sword!” I said, and the crowd cheered their approval as I walked back to my throne.

  As I sat, the gate screeched open, and the tattoo of galloping hooves filled the air. In a mad flurry of sword and tail, Chiron cantered toward the dais. He slid to a stop before me and flashed his sword in a show of agility.

  “Who will take me on?” he challenged. And my heart pulsed with pride, for when the villagers saw the brawny centaur, the leaf-shape blade of his sword glinting in the sun, men retreated. The ease with which he held his sword, the grace of his blood-red cloak billowing behind him—these made him look mighty.

  Chiron was magnificent.

  “I’ll take you on, centaur,” a mischievous voice proclaimed, and the crowd turned to look. With his bay coat shining, Demoleon trotted into the arena carrying a bronze sword of his own. His black tail flowed sensuously behind him.

  “My sweet Mother,” I heard a woman in the crowd say. “This’ll be a fight to remember.”

  For a brief moment, fear lashed through me, as hot and bright as lightning across a night sky. What if Chiron lost? What if Demoleon hurt Chiron just enough so that he couldn’t defeat Lycurgus?

  Together, Demoleon and Chiron bowed to me, and I had no choice but to return the acknowledgment. I’d hoped Chiron would confront Lycurgus fresh, but it was not to be.

  “Let it begin!” I said, and the two men met in the middle.

  “I’ve come to see how well you’ve learned all I’ve had to teach you,” Demoleon taunted Chiron loudly enough for all to hear. He swung his sword in arcs, sending hard glints of sunlight into the rapt crowd.

  “And now the teacher can be the student,” Chiron called. Demoleon’s inky tail flowed behind him as he loped in easy circles around the arena.

  And then I understood—Demoleon was the centaur sword-master.

  “So be it,” Demoleon called.

  The two centaurs spent no time on niceties. Sword song filled the air, almost joyously. Sitting at the edge of my throne, I couldn’t tell where one man’s sword ended and the other’s began. Silver sparked from the bronze, and the noise became deafening.

  Flashing hooves danced as the bronze blades arced above them. One man spun, trying to land a blow on the other’s shoulder—it was Chiron, I saw, trying to hit Demoleon. But Demoleon stepped neatly out of reach and spun on his own hindquarters.

  Demoleon followed that spin through, blade flashing, and I gasped as his sword landed on Chiron’s forearm, his sword arm. Blood dripped to the dust at his hooves, and my knuckles whitened as I grabbed the throne’s arms.

  Despite my fear, the blow didn’t stop Chiron.

  With all of his weight behind it, Chiron swung the sword. It looked like the swoop of a bird’s wing, graceful and elegant in its efficiency of movement. The sword hit Demoleon’s exactly at the hilt, and his sword went flying free, landing blade first in the dust. The metallic ring of the vacillations filled the awed silence.

  Chiron had bested his master.

  Gracefully Demoleon bowed to his competitor. “Thank you, Chiron. You’ve indeed learned all I’ve had to teach and then some more.” Then Demoleon turned to me and said, “Enjoy him, your majesty.”

  “I plan—” I started, but the gate squealed opened again.

  “King Lycurgus,” I announced as he strode in, hands on his hip, sword heavy on his hip. “You’re not welcome here.” The clouds on the horizon had moved toward us, and a few drops of cold gray rain be
gan to pelt.

  “You’ll welcome me to your bed tonight, Princess.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it,” Chiron said.

  “My sword longs to drink your blood, centaur.”

  He held his blade aloft and allowed the crowd to admire it. Lycurgus’s blade also was leaf-shaped and bronze. Red jewels glittered in the hilt, which was thicker than any I’d seen before. His sword also bore straight crossbars running perpendicular to the blade. I’d never seen such a thing.

  “Then your sword will die of thirst, as will you when blood pours from your veins,” Chiron said. He wiped his bleeding arm across his forehead, leaving a red smear.

  I stood. “King Chiron,” I called.

  “My lady.” He turned to me and bowed, his muscles rippling.

  With a neat flick, I tossed him my battle vambraces. The last remaining sunbeam caught them as they flew across the arena. “May these bring you good fortune, sir, as you protect the way of our land.”

  And with those words, with that action, I declared war on the Lapiths.

  Chiron clamped the armor on his forearms, and I watched supreme confidence cross the face of King Lycurgus as he tightened his own vambraces. He might not be able to cause earthquakes, but he was no simple mortal man.

  Thus it began. Lycurgus lunged at Chiron with a grin and a roar.

  Where the dance between Chiron and Demoleon had been beautiful, filed with an efficiency of movement and predictable pauses between the sound of metallic tangles, Lycurgus attacked Chiron with a ferocity bordering on rage.

  He threw himself madly at Chiron, but his anger didn’t hamper his skill. His wrist and forearm flicked with perfect precision. And more than that, Lycurgus fought with a supernatural strength, with Earth Shaker’s strength.

  Still, Chiron kept pace, nicking again and again at Lycurgus’s swordhand.

  Then I saw the function of Lycurgus’s strange crossbars. They protected his hand against Chiron’s sword. The crossbars made Chiron’s subtle strike useless. Time and time again, the clanging sound of Chiron’s sword tip hitting Lycurgus’s heavy crossbars filled the air.

  Bronze squealed and clanged. Hooves and booted feet slid and pummeled the ground until dust obscured the men from their knees down.