"Hail, the king of Epiria!" she crooned into his ear.
"It is the gods of your fathers who fight for you now, Hurrus. You cannot be killed."
"Kunuum…" Hurrus muttered, his words scarcely escaping his lips. "I am a son of Kunuum…"
"You are the son of Arrhus," Clautias said, "heir to the throne of Epiria!"
"My father grants us ships, Clautias," Antona informed the old man. "My husband's Corps--"
Hurrus shook his head, dispelling the dream. "Would not fill half of them," he finished for her. He stood, shaking off Antona's hands and Clautias' gaze. What was he thinking? He had almost let them convince him that it was still possible. "Whatever you believe, I no longer have the men. It cannot be done."
"But it must be done," Clautias said. "Demetrius' army sweeps through Epiria as we speak, Hurrus. He turned from Sethaly and descends now on Prathia. Soon, there will be nothing left of Gyriece to save. The people clamor for their king. Do not destroy their hopes. They have waited for this moment. This is our dark hour…"
"But I tell you, I haven't the men." Hurrus splayed his arms in frustration. How could they not see the hopelessness? "It is by luck alone that I am not dragged through these streets in chains. I need time to build an army anew, to equip and train them. Irrylian troops are not Sarians, Clautias, but seasoned killers."
"The people in Epiria need only a leader, Hurrus. They need their king. While they bleed and die, they cry out for you!"
"I have but 3000 men…"
"And they have conquered all that has been set before them," Antona said. "Had Xarhux himself ever accomplished more with less? Listen to them marching through the streets of Archentethe." She paused and they could hear the music wafting over the garden wall. "They are heroes! There is nothing they cannot do. You have told me yourself, Hurrus. It is as Clautias says, the gods will it. It is out of our hands."
"But we are so few…"
"Then you must be the difference, my love. Epiria is ours."
"Me?" He felt confused. "I am but one man, my failures plain to see."
Antona grasped him by the shoulders and gazed deep into his eyes.
"You are as ten men, Hurrus. Do you not know that?" Her fingers clenched his shoulders and she stared at him in disbelief. For an instant, he was a little boy again, saving her from dragons. He had always been her hero, and he had never failed her. "You dare speak of failures? You alone are as ten thousand men! How can you not know this by now?"
"It is said Xarhux was as ten thousand--" Hurrus began and a feeling of awe slowly spread over him. Xarhux, the last true Son of Kunuum…
Antona nodded eagerly. "Yes… Have you not shown yourself to be his heir? Have you not seen your destiny? When Xarhux left Tygetia, he was--"
"Bathed in Blood!" Hurrus whispered in awe. He saw it now. He moved Antona aside and strode back towards the house.
Clautias looked up in shock at his abrupt passage. "Hurrus, where are you going?"
"I'm going to Epiria!" he answered, without looking back. "But first I must find Jhar."
Chapter 31
Gonatas wondered what his father saw when he looked at Pylia. In good light, he himself saw a withered crone twice the king's age. In bad, well, he had once seen the witch at work and he could not bear to look upon her for the memory of it.
Yet, Demetrius cast her affectionate smiles. He caressed her bony scabrous shoulders and stroked her twisted fingers as if she were the sweet, loving wife Gonatas' mother had been and not the repulsive monster the world knew Pylia to be. He wondered if Demetrius was blind. If so, it was with power and ambition, certainly. But did it not at times resemble something closer to love? Gonatas' skin crawled at the notion.
He is mad. That is what Gonatas must remember. The man is utterly mad. Only then could his mind accept it.
He rose from his knee and stood at his father's side. He had already explained how he had missed Clautius and had met up with the group of Shadow Riders bringing Coronea to the palace. Demetrius had nodded sagely and cursed Menleco anew for his failure to capture the rebel leader. But Pylia had merely stared at him mutely - and Gonatas thought perhaps suspiciously. Had she Seen him? He remembered the snake man on the road, Pylia's eyes. He had thought himself secreted safely among the trees and brush, but who knew what sort of vision Pylia's creature possessed? He avoided her gaze as much as he could. Where madness had dulled his father's senses, he suspected the witch's to have been enhanced. Perhaps she saw into his mind even as he spoke his lies, waiting only to ensnare him when there was no hope for his escape.
No one had said a word when he told them the rebels had abandoned Asander, whom they had captured on the road to Myssene, when they had been forced to flee the Shadow Riders' raid.
"I will hear from Asander himself when we are through here," Demetrius had said.
Both had perked up when his story turned to Coronea. Pylia, in particular, seemed as happy with the Huntress as she would have been with Clautius.
"What a pretty girl our Huntress is!" Pylia cooed, as if the fact pleased her in some incalculable way. Coronea stared her in the eye long after Gonatas would have been forced to look away. Her bravery was as breathtaking as her beauty.
"Pretty?" Demetrius exclaimed. "Next to Gorgeo himself, no one has been a greater nuisance to us. What she has done has been anything but pretty."
"Yes, the Ghost has proven" - Pylia leaned forward to look past the king to Gonatas - "…elusive. Has he not, Prince Gonatas? You have pursued him…"
Gonatas could feel her eyes on him, but he would not look her way. Instead, he fixed his eyes on Coronea's face, trying to make his expression stern, as befitted her captor. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword. "The Epirian bands travel light, my lady. And they have the support of the people."
"The support of the people!" Demetrius scoffed, as if the very idea was an outrage to his rule. "The bandits are buoyed by patriotic zeal, I suppose."
Gonatas regarded the king coolly. "They are hidden by the populations they operate among, Father. They are fed, clothed, armed and concealed by them. What moral encouragement they receive from them, I could not say."
Pylia cackled with amusement. A cold finger ran down Gonatas' spine. Demetrius smiled lightly as though at some girlish twittering.
"I believe our pretty girl could say," said Pylia. "I believe there is lot she could say…with a little coaxing. Perhaps as much as Clautius himself might have told us."
"I don't know anyone named Clautius," Coronea said.
"Oh, do not insult us," snapped Demetrius. "We did not bring you here to listen to lies."
"You'll get nothing from me," Coronea insisted.
Pylia jumped to her feet. "We'll get everything from you!" Her voice was a hissing of snakes. Coronea's face went white and her head snapped back as though she had been struck. Gonatas jerked his head around and saw Pylia seeming to hiss at her between clenched brown teeth.
"I work alone," Coronea said, recovering quickly from Pylia's sudden rage. She gave her a fierce look. "I know nothing of any Epirian bands or Ghosts or of this Clautius--"
"You know of all of it!" Pylia said. "And I will find it in you. Oh, yes! Believe me, I will. I will find the traitor I seek, too, as well as Gorgeo."
"Gorgeo is dead."
Pylia cackled again and it occurred to Gonatas that Coronea did not intend to leave this room alive. She would not grovel before them, nor would she tell them anything useful, neither of which, Gonatas knew, would have saved her in any case. It had been their plan for him to put a sword through her if there was no other recourse. He could see now that Coronea, by her words, would ensure that there was not. Everything in Coronea's mind would be safe - and she would be spared Pylia's hideous attentions. Gonatas mulled where he would put the blade to ensure a death as swift and painless as possible. But now that the moment was at hand, he wondered if he could summon the courage to do the deed at all.
But he knew he must.
&n
bsp; Pylia walked down the steps to where Coronea stood. Coronea stared at her, meeting her eye to eye. Pylia ran a gnarled claw through the Huntress' honeyed hair.
"Do you have any idea what is going to happen to you, my dear?"
"I am going to die," Coronea said.
Pylia huffed a breathy little laugh. "Oh, but there is so much more to it than that."
"Your breath stinks of the pit, witch."
"You will know of the pit soon," Pylia said. She laid a hand on Coronea's shoulder and Coronea wriggled under it until her fingers fell away. "I can prevent it. You needn't suffer. You have only to tell me what I want to know."
Coronea raised her eyes to Gonatas. In a flash, he knew what she intended. She turned and began running for the door. This was how she meant for the deed to be done.
Demetrius leapt to his feet. "She means to escape! Stop her!"
Gonatas drew his sword and flew down the steps after her. Guards bolted from the back wall and two more scampered towards her between the rows of towering columns that led from the door. Gonatas could hear Pylia laughing at the hopelessness of the attempt. Coronea saw the guards coming and shot off between columns, but with her hands tied behind her back, her balance was poor and her steps awkward. Gonatas easily caught up with her. He thrust his free arm around her shoulders and waved his sword at the onrushing guards.
"Kill me," Coronea whispered. "Quickly, before it is too late."
"There is still hope," he said into her ear.
He saw her face tighten and her eyes grow moist. "Damn you!" she muttered.
The Bearded Men rushed them front and back. Without realizing what he was doing, Gonatas whirled, holding them off with his sword. The guards stopped short, blades drawn.
Gonatas recovered quickly, realizing he probably should not be threatening his own guards over the girl. "I've got her," he said in a light tone. "Go back to your posts. Go on. This girl's not going anywhere."
The Bearded Men did not move. They stood staring at him, swords in their hands. Their eyes were black holes in their sculpted face plates.
"Back to your posts!" Gonatas shouted, whirling on them once again. They paused. Then, without a sound, they turned and walked away. Gonatas led Coronea back to her inquisitors.
Gonatas gave her a rough little shove and then took up his position next to his father. Demetrius frowned at him angrily. "Gonatas, let the guards do their work. You don't have to chase down every bound captive that tries to bolt. Are you a prince of Irrylia, or a hired blade?"
"Instinct, Father," Gonatas said, hoping that the king did not see that his only instinct was to protect the woman he loved. Perhaps he should have hacked his way through the Bearded Men. That might have been their last chance. Coronea was right to damn him for clinging to hope where there was none. Gods help him, he could not spill her blood - and now she would pay for his cowardice.
"You should not be in such a hurry to leave us, my dear," said Pylia, as Coronea stood before her once again. Her chest heaved from her exertion. "We will spend some long hours together, you and I."
"But you said you could prevent it, that I would not be tortured if I tell you what I know."
Pylia smiled. "Of course. I am not cruel. Nor am I unjust. Speak the truth to me, child, and that will be seen in your favor."
"It is all we ask," King Demetrius said kindly.
Coronea glared up at Gonatas. This time, he could not read her intentions, but the coldness of her eye frightened him. He tightened his fingers around the hilt of his sword. He might have to use it for real now, and he had no one to blame but himself.
"I can see that escape is impossible, so I will tell you what you want to know."
Pylia leaned in close to her. "Go on, child…"
"The traitor you seek is in this room with us." Gonatas' heart pounded in his chest and his muscles tensed. A line of sweat boiled out of his forehead.
"Yesss…" Pylia hissed. Gonatas could feel her seeing him in her peripheral vision. It was just as she had suspected. It was what she had always wanted. Gonatas' blade would ring from its scabbard and find her withered throat… "Tell me, child. Say it!"
"It is him!" Coronea cried, pointing her nose at Demetrius. "It is the mad king who is the traitor!"
Outraged, Demetrius leapt to his feet. Pylia lurched backwards as if slapped in the face.
"It is Demetrius who is the traitor! A traitor to King Arrhus and the Epirian throne. A traitor to King Hurrus whose blade of righteousness will soon drip with the mad king's blood…"
"Guards!" Demetrius bellowed, as Coronea continued shouting. Bearded Men came scurrying from all over the chamber. In an instant, they had surrounded Coronea. "Pylia, she is yours. Find out what she knows. I wash my hands of her."
"If you were half a man, you would unbind my hands--" Coronea was in the midst of shouting when a guard clapped a hand hard over her mouth.
Gonatas stepped in front of Demetrius. "She is mad with fear, Father. She does not know what she is saying. You cannot send her to Pylia. Put her in the dungeon. It shouldn't take more than a couple of days. She'll regain her senses--"
Demetrius pushed him aside. "Your weakness disgusts me, Gonatas."
Coronea's voice rose again from somewhere at the end of a long corridor, "--and feed your witch to you, piece by piece--" but was lost again by the banging of a heavy wooden door. Its metal fittings clanked and then there was silence.
"Father, it is beyond cruelty what Pylia will do to her," Gonatas pleaded. He would beg him if he had to. "What good will it serve to waste this girl?"
"You are squeamish and weak, Gonatas. This girl has defied me and mocks me to my face. Now an example must be made of her. All will know of the Huntress' fate, and all will fear me - as you should as well, Gonatas. There are dark days ahead--"
"I agree with the king."
Gonatas looked across the room and saw Asander standing at the door. He strode towards them between the rows of painted columns.
"You have traveled far, Asander, and by a circuitous route, as I hear tell, only to return to offer your opinion of this petty affair?"
"What happens to the Huntress is far from petty, Your Highness." Asander climbed the steps and knelt, kissing Demetrius' ring. He cast a quick glance from under his brow at Gonatas. "At least to the Epirians," he added, rising.
"Well, now," Demetrius said happily, "not all the counsel I receive is for cowardice. One man, at least, remains in Irrylia."
"The Epirians love her, Highness. Her death will be a blow to them, a blow from which they may not recover. I was a captive among them and I could see how highly they regarded her. When they learn that she has spilled all their secrets…It will be devastating to them."
Gonatas glowered at him. Could he have had the man so wrong? He clenched his teeth when he remembered Asander buying his way out of Epirian custody with deceitful words. He should have left him to the rebel cutthroat, Gorgeo. How could he have been so foolish? Asander was a survivor and nothing more, bowing always to the strongest man. So it had always been. Perhaps men like Asander do not change. The brave and the foolhardy are lost and forgotten, but cowards like Asander go on forever.
Gonatas could not hold his tongue. "What is your game, Asander? How are you to be trusted now, coming to us from the Epirians? Did I find you among them as captive - or collaborator?"
"Don't be a fool, Gonatas. You know what I have learned from the Epirians. What I say of Coronea is true. Would I advocate her death were I a collaborator?"
"I cannot begin to comprehend the workings of a poisoned mind," Gonatas spat.
"Now, you truly are a fool." Asander turned to Demetrius. "I believe the Prince has developed an affection for this girl, Highness. I suggest he be made to witness her demise at the hands of our lady. An observer is needed to take down the Huntress' words and to chronicle her end. Who better than Prince Gonatas himself?"
Demetrius laughed and clapped Asander's shoulder. "I have always been able to cou
nt on you, Asander. My councilors tell me only what I want to hear. They are small, cowardly men. I need strong-willed men, Asander, men who do not blanch at the sight of a little blood. Gonatas, it will do you good to see the Huntress' end. You will see much worse in the days to come, I assure you, and I need warriors and strong men by my side."
Madmen and murderers! He expected Gonatas to witness that depravity with quill and parchment in hand, like some ghoulish counting clerk? Gods, no! If he would be forced into Pylia's chamber, it would be with sword in hand, and, by gods, his steel would ring… Gonatas' thoughts ground to a halt. …if he would be forced to enter…
"Remember this, Gonatas," Asander shouted at him as Gonatas turned to leave. "No one has ever come out of Pylia's chamber. No one but those who have been carried out, that is. I suggest you hurry, before Pylia begins her work. You don't want to miss anything."
…with sword in hand, and, by gods, his steel would ring…
"Yes!" Gonatas cried. Demetrius called for the guards to stand aside. Gonatas ran the rest of the way to Pylia's chamber, down corridors and narrow steps, through heavy wooden doors, and on as fast as his legs would carry him. The dim hallways were lit only sporadically by torches sputtering in sconces set in the walls. Two Bearded Men stood outside Pylia's door.
"Let me pass," Gonatas cried. One of the guards had stepped in front of the door, barring his way. When he made no move, Gonatas grabbed him and flung him aside. The door was unlocked and he burst through it.
Coronea saw him before he saw her. "Gonatas!" she cried.
He heard the clanking of her chains against the stone wall. He looked in the direction of the sound and found her straining at the manacles that secured her wrists. She had been stripped bare and at her feet was Pylia's fathomless black pool. When she saw him, a look of such hope and desperation filled her eyes that Gonatas ran to her at once.
"Where is the witch?" he asked. He looked all around him, past the pool and into the shadows of the many pillars that filled the chamber. On some of them sputtering torches burned dimly. He saw no sign of Pylia.
The Blood Gate Page 40