Theros: Godsend, Part I

by Jenna Helland

  “How many years ago was that?” Heliod asked. “You have been away in the unknown lands for longer than you might perceive.”

  “Years?” Nylea laughed. “Have you become so like the humans that you measure time in their increments?”

  “And are you so love stricken with Daxos that you are not watching your own children?”

  “I have no interest in your petty squabbles with Purphoros, until my creatures become toys in your duels,” Nylea said.

  “If Purphoros destroys Nyx, then your forest will not survive,” Heliod warned her. “Neither will Setessa or your beloved animals. Perhaps you should care a little more.”

  “You don’t know that,” Nylea protested. But she felt fear that any threat might harm the forest dwellers.

  Heliod scoffed. “You know the natural order better than anyone. Mortal and ideal cannot coexist peacefully. And as I have said, the realms are becoming like shifting sand.”

  “The hydra will stay in my forest,” Nylea said decidedly. “I will see to it.”

  “What will you do?” Heliod asked.

  “I will visit the satyr,” Nylea said. “I tracked his footprints. He went from the Skola to incite the hydra. And after he left the hydra, he called upon Purphoros.”

  Heliod exploded in anger. “You tell me to search for another cause. And then you reveal that the satyr works for the God of the Forge. This time I won’t let Kruphix punish Purphoros so gently, I will imprison him myself in the boiling tar near Erebos’s throne!”

  Nylea had enough of talking to Heliod. She became a falcon, soaring away from him.

  “If the hydra reaches the Guardians, he is no longer under your protection,” Heliod called, his voice like the wind during a fierce storm. “My champion cannot allow him to demolish the city.”

  “Don’t touch my hydra,” Nylea warned the wind, but Heliod did not care to listen.

  Nylea approached the Skola Valley with fury in her heart. The upstart Xenagos, with his pretensions of greatness, was behind this. She knew it as soon as she saw the tracks of his revel. He was the only creature she ever encountered who did not seem to appreciate the gulf in their existence. He acted as if he didn’t care that he was merely a creature of the world and she was a divinity of the stars. But worse, she had protected him, like everything that lived in her realm. She tolerated the satyrs and their mischief. She let them have autonomy in their pristine little valley where they did nothing but drink themselves into oblivion.

  Nylea wanted to strangle Xenagos with her bare—human—hands, but when she moved to walk under the gateway of trees into the Skola, a wall-like spell blocked her passage. The mystical protections were far more powerful than should be expected of a miniscule goatman. Nylea became monstrous, her skin like bark and her arms like trunks of massive trees. She grew to fifty feet tall with all the lifeblood of the forest seething through her veins. Her skin was emblazoned with Nyx as she lorded over the valley. Beneath her the satyrs ran in terror at the sight of her, tripping over their tiny hooves and shrieking like cowards. With a single strike, Nylea ripped the mystical shield off the valley, which now looked like a tiny furrow in the ground below her. The grassy earth trembled and tore open, revealing caverns and the black smoke of industry.

  Through the rift in the earth, she could see caverns that Xenagos had transformed into forges in the image of Purphoros’s own mountain. There were prisoners chained to the ground, and they, too, froze in terror. Their hammers suspended, and they stared at the sky and the tremendous arrival of Nylea. The cry of a bird reached Nylea’s ears. It was the pitiful wailing of a chimera, imprisoned and panicked. Nylea sent ribbons of vine to seek the source, shatter the bars, and set all the creatures free. It was done in seconds. While the prisoners fled, an injured chimera limped into the sky. Its wing was twisted, but still it managed to fly. It was fashioned from divine bronze, and Nylea recognized it as one of Purphoros’s creatures. She abhorred the metal trappings of the creature but couldn’t fault him for his beautiful inventiveness. Part ibis and part stag, the chimera sang praises to Nylea and flew toward Mt. Velus.

  Nylea entered the valley and landed on the ground with a small rumble. She was human-sized again but still towered over the cowering satyrs. Unconscious bodies lay scattered around, the victims of her anger.

  “I liked my chimera,” Xenagos said. He stepped from behind a wooden platform that held a gilded throne.

  As soon as the pointy-chinned satyr stepped into the open, Nylea whipped the bow from her back and pointed an arrow between his eyes.

  “Xenagos!” Nylea shouted. “What madness is this?”

  “Fix my floor, sister,” he said, pointing at the hole in the ground that revealed his forge.

  “You little pig,” she said. “I am not your sister. And what have you done to my hydra?”

  “And why do you presume that he is yours?” Xenagos said. “What gives you the right of ownership?”

  Nylea made a miniscule adjustment and unleashed her arrow. Instead of piercing him between the eyes, she punctured his chest. By design, the arrow narrowly missed his heart. He was blasted backward by the force of the impact, but Nylea moved faster than he stumbled. Before the arrow finished traveling into his chest, she grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the ground. With a knee pressed into his chest, she leaned over him. She grabbed the shaft of the arrow and twisted it. He screamed in pain as the arrowhead tore through his flesh and inched closer to his heart.

  “I am your god, and you are nothing but a bleating kid,” she hissed. “Should I pull your eyes out and feed them to the rats?”

  “Please, no!” he gasped. He tried to speak again, and Nylea leaned forward to hear his plea.

  “Not … the … rats,” he said sarcastically, spitting blood between his clenched teeth.

  She stood up and left him sprawled on the ground. She sent a ripple of energy through the ground that jolted him back against the stone wall behind the throne. His bones cracked, but Xenagos grinned venomously. The rectangular slits of his pupils grew larger as he reached up and grabbed the shaft of Nylea’s arrow that was still sticking out of his chest.

  “Why do you mock me?” Nylea asked. “Would you like to see my wrath rain down from Nyx?”

  “What do you want, O honored visitor?” Xenagos asked.

  “Why do you torment Polukranos?” she asked. “Did you awaken him?”

  “No, something new entered the world,” Xenagos said. “And it draws him like a moth to a candle. I just helped him on his way.”

  “By inciting him, you are risking the lives of all my creatures,” Nylea said. “You risk the safety of the mortal realm.”

  Xenagos snapped the wooden shaft, leaving the arrowhead deep in his chest. He flung the useless wood ineffectually at the God of the Hunt. It landed in the grass near his hooves. Nylea sensed his sick pleasure, how he reveled both in the pain and at her presence in his valley.

  “I care nothing for your creatures,” Xenagos said. “Soon, you and all your precious children will bow before me …”

  Nylea could not be bothered to strike him again. Instead, she revoked her protection of the Skola Valley. In that instant, the trees faded from existence, the grassy expanse turned brown, and the plants withered. The stone walls, the wooden platform, and the pretentious gilded throne all turned to dust. Nylea diverted the bubbling stream with a wall of vines. She called away all creatures that dwelt there and offered them new homes in her forest. Even the earthworms of the soil fled from the sickly ground.

  “… the king of all.” By the time Xenagos finished his sentence, he was standing in a wasteland.

  Now she saw something else in his eyes. Not fear, exactly, and certainly hatred, but something more sinister.

  “Now you are king of nothing,” she said softly. “If you don’t cease your mischief now, I will throw you across Erebos’s river myself.”

  “Ah, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” he replied, defiant. Blood oozed from t
he arrow wound in his chest. “You can’t kill me.”

  Nylea felt something strange flicker inside of her. “What did you say?”

  “You can’t touch me,” Xenagos said.

  “I just did, and your wounds should make you remember,” Nylea said.

  “You didn’t touch me. You touched the world.”

  “Your bones are broken just the same,” she replied.

  “Gods can’t touch mortals,” Xenagos said. “You can’t kill us anymore than you can kill each other.”

  “You’re a fool if you believe that.” Nylea found herself puzzled by his arrogance and his denial of the physical forces that had just battered him.

  “Belief … funny you should use that word, Queen,” Xenagos said.

  “You are nothing anymore. You are lower than the Returned.”

  “I was going to invite you to stay with me, but now I won’t,” Xenagos said. “The revels are just beginning.”

  Nylea departed, no longer interested in meaningless banter with this ostracized creature. She became the air born from a sunflower’s petals. As she eased into the air, the fear for her beloved hydra and the Kruphix’s threat consumed her. Because of the voids that his revels had created in her god-sight, she could not sense Xenagos begin to restore his valley, rebuild his throne, or repair the protective magic of his peculiar sky. Later, as she raced with her lynx across the fields of wheat toward the Guardians, she couldn’t feel the massive waves of mana rolling out of his forge, cloaked by powerful spells he had again woven around his ruined valley. But despite his secrecy, his frenetic rituals shaved more stars from the underpinnings of the world. The cracks in the realms grew wider, and the dust of the cosmos jumbled together and rained through the rifts like sand.

  By noon of the second day, the caravan was so close to the sea that Elspeth could smell the salt in the air. Despite the camaraderie of the night before, Nikka had returned to her sullen self. At daybreak, as the caravan was preparing to leave, Nikka had asked Elspeth if she could walk up the line of wagons to speak to Beta. But when she returned a few minutes later, her eyes were red from crying. As the caravan rolled out of the mountains and into the rolling meadowland, she’d stayed in the caravan with the doors and shutters closed.

  But at midday she climbed out of the van and walked beside Elspeth. The mountains receded behind them. They traveled through lush fields and stands of old forest. At the crest of each hill, Elspeth could see the blue sea sparkling on the horizon.

  “Ginus says we’re close now,” Elspeth said. “We’ll be in Meletis before nightfall.”

  Nikka shrugged.

  “Are you all right?” Elspeth asked.

  “I hate him,” Nikka said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the caravan where Beta traveled. Elspeth wasn’t sure what to say. And before she had to decide, the drivers shouted down the line to halt the caravan near a stream in a dark grove of trees. Elspeth went into the wagon and emptied the sack for some dry provisions for the midday meal. But when she climbed out, Nikka had wandered across the road and a short distance into the trees. Elspeth laid down the food and crossed over to her. Elspeth was glad they were so close to the sea. Once they were safely on the ship, Nikka couldn’t wander off anymore.

  Nikka crouched in front of a small tower of moss-covered stones. She picked up a stick and scratched a mark in the dirt.

  “What’s that?” Elspeth asked.

  “I think it’s a shrine to Nylea,” Nikka told her. “Have you ever seen the Great Hunter?”

  “Just in mosaics,” Elspeth said. “And remember, your father doesn’t want you praying at shrines.”

  “Nylea is so strong,” Nikka told her. “Back at home, all my friends wanted to give her offerings and get her favor, but she doesn’t like cities and she doesn’t like shrines.”

  “Then why does she have one here?” Elspeth asked.

  Nikka stood up abruptly and stared up at the treetops. Elspeth looked up too, curious at what had caught the girl’s attention. Across the road, three giant black crows were perched on a thin branch above, staring directly at them. Nikka frowned at the birds, and she backed away with her hands up as if in surrender. Elspeth’s brain felt muddled, like she couldn’t quite remember something.

  Her vision wavered—or was the forest slipping sideways? Elspeth felt very tired and confused. She must not have slept well on the hard floor of the wagon. It was surreal to watch Nikka walking backward while her gaze flitted between Elspeth and the crows. Puzzled, Elspeth realized that she was now sitting on the ground with her hands digging into the soft earth. Why was she there? And where was Nikka? The ground looked very appealing and she thought she might just lie down. Through the trees, she saw Ginus and his men had also dropped sleepily to the ground where they had been standing. Even the horses were bowing their heads, their noses just inches from the ground.

  “Are you tired?” Nikka asked. She sounded far away.

  “Yes,” Elspeth murmured. “I think I’ll just rest a moment.”

  When Elspeth’s head hit the dirt, Nikka spun on her heel. Beta came out from behind a wagon and grabbed Nikka’s hand, and the two of them plunged into the trees. Somewhere in Elspeth’s mind she knew she had to fight the sleep spell. She was also struggling with the knowledge that Nikka was a mage, but her thoughts were being suffocated by the sleep magic. Master Takis had warned her that his daughter was clever, but to put an entire caravan to sleep? That took the skill of an accomplished spellcaster. Had she been lying about the fight with Beta just to distract Elspeth?

  As if in slow motion, Elspeth tried to remember a spell to ward off the unconsciousness … but her last waking memory was of a group of men in black hoods and cloaks sweeping up the road toward the line of wagons. They each carried a coiled whip with bronze plating. The men searched briefly through the bodies on the road and hastened into the trees in the same direction that Nikka and Beta had gone. Elspeth was hidden from view by the under-brush, and they never glanced in her direction. Then she slept and didn’t dream.

  The next thing she knew, cold water sloshed against her face. A sobbing Nikka held an empty flask. Her white dress was now covered in blood.

  “They killed Beta,” Nikka cried, dropping the flask to the dirt. “Erebos’s agents stabbed him.”

  Elspeth sat up. Her head felt as if it had been stuffed full of spider webs. Her fingers were stiff and cold, but she managed to pick up her blade, which was next to her on the forest floor.

  “Did you make me sleep?” Elspeth tried to say, but her tongue was as heavy as a stone.

  “Yes, I’m so sorry,” Nikka sobbed.

  “Who killed Beta?” Elspeth asked.

  Nikka gave a little yelp of panic and dragged Elspeth to her feet. The girl was surprisingly strong.

  “We have to go,” she cried. “They’re coming back.”

  The air felt cold and unpleasant and there was no sun shining down through the trees. Nikka supported Elspeth’s weight as they made their way back to the caravan on the road. Nearby, Ginus had climbed to his feet and rubbed his face wearily. A few of his men were also coming to their senses.

  “Erebos desires oracles,” Nikka told Elspeth. “He wishes to possess them and kidnaps them down into the Underworld. And the harpies saw. They told him where we were going.”

  “Is there an oracle here?” Elspeth asked stupidly. Ginus was stumbling toward them.

  “Are you dense?” Nikka cried out in frustration. A cold wind blew through the grove and rattled the canvas coverings on the wagons. The velvet curtains of the Takis caravan swayed back and forth.

  “Is there?” Elspeth asked again.

  “Why did you think I was going to the academy?” Nikka asked.

  “You’re an oracle?” Elspeth asked. Wearily, she leaned on her blade as if it was a staff.

  Ginus shouted and pointed down the road where they had come. A dark shape moved toward them, cloaked in mist. Elspeth couldn’t discern what it was, but it was accompa
nied by a harsh sound, like the chattering of teeth. An unnatural sense of dread swept over all who heard the sound. The fear rushed through Elspeth, and it snapped her awake.

  “I need to get her to safety,” Elspeth said to Ginus. “Something is coming for her.”

  “Run for the coast,” Ginus said, pointing down the road. “Ships are waiting there.”

  “Will Erebos’s men be able to follow us onto the water?” Elspeth asked no one in particular.

  “Not without Thassa’s blessing,” Ginus said. He motioned to two of the drivers who were awake and gaping at the approaching darkness. “Go with them and help them safely to Meletis.”

  “What about you?” Elspeth asked.

  “I’m not leaving my caravan,” Ginus said, drawing his weapon. “Now go!”

  The four of them sprinted down the Great River Road for the ocean. By the time they’d left the grove, the sky was dark and roiling with silver clouds. As they ran, Elspeth kept glancing behind them. She expected to see an enemy bearing down on them, but the road was eerily silent. It was less than a mile to the coast, but Elspeth felt like her lungs were about to explode by the time they reached the edge of the sea. Two large ships waited in the harbor, and a small boat for boarding was beached on the sand. The larger vessels appeared deserted, like ghost ships bobbing on the waves.

  “We’ll take the boarding boat!” the stable boy ordered. He had dark, curly hair and a round face and sounded more authoritative than he looked. “We don’t have enough bodies to sail the larger ships.”

  They shoved the boat onto the sparkling water and clambered inside as the sun peeked out and disappeared again behind the fast-moving clouds. There were only two sets of oars, and the boys grabbed them and began rowing. They obviously knew their way around a boat, so Nikka and Elspeth sat out of the way in the bow. The boys took them out a few hundred feet away from the shore and then began to skirt the coastline. Dark shapes circled in the water below them and trailed behind the boat.

  “What are those?” Elspeth asked, looking down.