Ambrosia

by Aaron Lee Yeager

Philiastra opened her green lips. “Wei, is it really is you?”

  He nodded.

  They both burst with excitement, running towards one another and nearly falling over as they embraced and cheered.

  “I can’t believe it!”

  “I thought you were dead.”

  “I thought you were.”

  They jumped up and down, laughing with joy, their eyes growing thick with tears.

  “Oh, Philiastra, I have so many questions. How did you get here? Where have you been? How did you escape?”

  She laughed. “And I have just as many for you.”

  He held his hand out and the house of living wood parted, revealing a warm, comforting interior. “You want to come inside, and you can answer them all? I have some fresh zestó tsái I just brewed.”

  “Heck, yeah.”

  * * *

  The roar of the colosseum above jostled free little jets of dust throughout the vault as Ambera forced down another bowl full of golden ambrosia into her body.

  She leaned forward, steadying herself on the rim of the half-empty barrel, her face looking sickly as she worked up the courage to drink more. She plunged her bowl inside and slurped down the contents, her body and hair glowing brighter and brighter with each swallow. It had been a long time since she had imbibed so much ambrosia at once.

  She coughed, spilling the bowl and doubling over, trying desperately to stop herself from vomiting

  Sweat beading on her brow, she held out her hand and released a golden mist, which formed together into two tight spheres of molten brilliance. The spheres splashed and foamed, then receded like water, revealing two people inside where none had been before. Storgen was sitting on a piece of an old couch, a chunk of which had traveled with him, Gáta sitting in his lap, while Erolina was stooped over a table which had been neatly sliced in half where it reached the edge of the sphere.

  Both were extremely surprised to find themselves there.

  “Whoa!” Storgen fell backwards, while Erolina wiped her mouth and stood at attention, placing her fist across her chest in the champion’s salute.

  “What happened?” Storgen asked, looking around. “Where am I? Am I drunk?”

  Ambera steadied herself against the barrel, breathing heavily. “You are not drunk.”

  “You’re right, drunk would be less fun.”

  “This must be dire indeed if you are willing to cast a minor miracle just to bring us here,” Erolina said coldly.

  Storgen sat up. “She can do that?”

  “She’s a god, feed her enough ambrosia and there is little she can’t do.”

  Storgen stood up and rotated the stiffness out of his shoulder. “So, she can just whisk me half way across the world at any time? What if I had been showering? Would I have just appeared naked in front of her?”

  “Since when do you shower?”

  “I shower.”

  “Shut up, both of you,” Ambera gasped. “You left me with no choice. I had no idea where you were.”

  Erolina bowed at the waist. “As you commanded, we went underground to avoid the tower.”

  Ambera ignored her and floated over to Storgen. “Human, I have been challenged to a duel, and I must win.”

  “I do have a name, you know?”

  “No, you don’t understand, I really, really, really must win this.”

  “You don’t really listen to me, do you?”

  “If I lose this duel, I’ll be destroyed. Everything I have built; everything I have accomplished, it will all be lost.”

  “I could just say anything to you at this point, couldn’t I?”

  “I need you to do whatever you did in your last duel. I need you to win, no matter what.”

  “Did anyone ever tell you that for a fertility goddess you’re really not that pretty?”

  Erolina nearly burst out laughing.

  Ambera grabbed Storgen by the shoulders and shook him. “I’m serious, can you win this? I have to know!”

  Storgen sighed. “Let me guess, if I say ‘no,’ then you’ll just vaporize me here on the spot and call a mistrial?”

  “Yes. I would be humiliated, but it’s preferable to a loss.”

  “In that case, yes, I can totally win this.” He gave an exaggerated smile and thumbs up.

  “Excellent, I’ve had these specially prepared for you.”

  She opened her hand and a pair of brass knuckles appeared.

  “Ooh, knuckle dusters,” he said as they floated into his grip. They carried the fox crest above each knuckle, the snout extended out into a shallow point.

  The crowd above roared again, and the whole colosseum shook. “My spies tell me that Lichas’ new champion is a siren.”

  “A siren, eh? Little taller than humans, pointed ears, long fish tail, right?”

  “No, that’s a sea siren!”

  Storgen slipped on the brass knuckles and tested the weight. “No tail, got it.”

  “These aren’t magical, but those spikes are coated in a super concentrated mílo extract.”

  Storgen threw a couple of trial punches. “The stuff inside apples?”

  “Yes. One scratch and that siren will go into a coma, ambrosia or no ambrosia.”

  Erolina clearly disapproved.

  He looked over the spikes and gave them a sniff. “Hmm. Looks harmless, smells like an orchard, but sounds underhanded, dishonorable, and unethical.”

  Erolina raised an eyebrow. “Oh, this coming from YOU?”

  “What? That was a compliment. I love these things.”

  “Be silent, Scythe. No one asked your opinion.”

  Ambera turned to Storgen and managed a smile. “You haven’t changed a bit. You were always like this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind. I’ll be right back.”

  As Ambera flew into an adjacent cell, Erolina gave Storgen a sidelong glance. She seemed so pale, her red eyes duller than he recalled.

  “I can’t believe you said that to her. You are a very bad boy,” she teased.

  “It was funny, though, right?”

  “You know I like dangerous men, right?”

  “Take a cold shower. It helps.”

  “I’m sure you’d know.”

  “In fact I would, I shower all the time.”

  She gave off a weak chuckle of amusement.

  “So, are you going to tell me what in the world you did back there in the underworld?”

  The question caught her a little off guard, and she looked away shamefully. “I returned the key to Priestess Ophira.”

  He looked at her suspiciously. “Uh, huh.”

  Ambera flew back in with cotton and a heated urn. “I cannot stress this enough, human. You must win this duel.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll beat the tar out of your siren for you, all hail the almighty Ambera, blah blah blah blah.”

  “Good.”

  She grew an extra set of arms. With one set she held him up like a doll, and with the other she began stuffing cotton in his ears.

  “One other thing. Don’t let her sing. She’ll cast a spell on you, and the duel will be over.”

  He struggled against the invasion of his ear canals, but she grew a third set of arms and secured his head. Reaching into the urn, she took out a good handful of hot wax and began slathering it over his ears.

  “Ouch! That’s hot!”

  “Don’t be such a baby. This should give you at least some resistance to her magic.”

  A silver bell rang out, and Ambera flinched in fear.

  “The duel is about to start.”

  * * *

  Philiastra let out a long sigh of pleasure as she drained the amber contents of her wooden mug. Everything in this house was grown from living wood, from the beds and furniture, to the tables and silverware. She released the mug and it reformed itself back into a branch, curling back into the wall behind her.

  “Oh my gosh,” she cooed, leaning back, allowing the living wood to more perfectly mold
itself to her body. “I had forgotten how good that feels.”

  Wei took a sip himself. “I know, right? Humans focus too much on flavor. They don’t appreciate the subtle nuance of spiritual essence.”

  She looked up dreamily at the glowing fruit growing from the braches above, just waiting to be eaten. “Well, you can hardly blame them. They don’t even have spirit-sight.”

  “Oh, I blame them. Do you want another stafýll?”

  “Do I ever.”

  Wei raised his hand and the arm-bracelet he wore erupted in blue fire. A bushel of grapes grew down from a vine above, settling at just the right height for her to lazily nip one off.

  She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation. All around her, the energy of the forest flowed in and out of this place. It felt like being at the center of an enormous heartbeat. The heartbeat of the forest.

  Wei picked a pear and took a bite. “Not that I’m not completely delighted to see you, but how in the world did you find me?”

  “It was a total fluke,” she admitted. “I was here with some friends, and when I went for a walk in the woods, I just kind of felt you.”

  He sat up straight. “Friends, you mean other forest nymphs?”

  “No, these are human friends.”

  “Oh, never mind then,” he sneered.

  He noticed the magical armband she wore. “You even have your own kratóntas ta chéria. May I?”

  “What? Oh, yes, of course.”

  He knelt before it and traced his fingers over it, the blue fire rising up in flickering light above the exquisite hartwood carvings, the two coiled tree branches meeting at the golden receptacle in the center. “I know these carvings, this is Odelia.”

  The blue light gave off a friendly sparkle.

  “She says hi.”

  He looked up in excitement. “My mother made this. Where did you get it?”

  “I found it hidden in a potted plant back on Dasikí Chará.”

  He looked it over in awe. “She must have hid it during the massacre.”

  Philiastra frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. If you want I can…”

  He took her hands. “No, are you kidding? I’m honored that you have it now.”

  He placed his hand on it fondly. “Merete always talked about giving this to you when you were old enough to begin training. And here it came to you just the same, against all odds. I think you were meant to have it.”

  Philiastra forced herself to ask the hard question that formed a lump at the back of her throat. “Were there any other survivors?”

  He leaned back, his green eyes lost in thought. “I don’t think there were. I used to hope that some may have made it to other forests. After the war, I searched and searched…for years, but I never found any. Finally I moved here, took up residence. I guess I just kind of resigned myself to my fate. I thought I was the last one.”

  “I thought I was, too.”

  For a while, their delight at being reunited had made them forget, now the weight began to return to their hearts. Even the lights of the glowing fruit dimmed in response.

  She tugged at the tips of her leafy hair. “We might be the last two of our kind.”

  “That’s a sobering thought.”

  “Yeah.”

  He clapped his hands on his knees, startling her. “But, hey, it’s better than it was yesterday, right? I mean, yesterday, I thought I was the last one, and today I find out that I’m not. So, hey, silver lining.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good point,” she said, faking a smile.

  Noticing her mood, he tried to change the subject. “Hey, do you remember that time we tossed prýmni root into the human’s well?”

  She opened her mouth. “YES! Oh, that was so funny. They were all sprinting for the outhouse for a week.”

  He laughed out loud. “Oh, that was a choice memory. The way they would waddle, their knees tightly together as if they were bound.”

  They both had a good laugh, and the weight in the room began to clear.

  Wei fiddled with his pan flute. “You know, maybe this is just wishful thinking, but I don’t think it was a fluke. Over the last few years, I thought about you all the time, Philiastra, and now here you are. I think the forest brought you here.”

  “It could be. I thought about you, too. I was so mean to the humans back then. I kind of feel bad about it.”

  “Don’t be. They deserved it. Do you remember when you stole their river guardian statue?”

  She clapped her hands. “Oh, I had forgotten about that. They thought it was a bad omen, the town elder made them all fast for a week.”

  “I still have it.”

  “Get out of here, do you really?”

  “YES! You wanna see?”

  “Do you even need to ask?”

  He held up his hand, and the branches of one wall uncurled, revealing a secret nook within the living wood. He took out the bundle inside, and unwrapped it before her.

  She looked over the carving of a camel with a human head. “Oh wow, I can’t believe you kept it, Wei.”

  “I had to. You carved my name into it.”

  “That’s right, you threatened to return it to the humans, but I put your name on it so you couldn’t without getting into trouble.”

  “Uh huh. Then I carved your name into it as well so you’d get into trouble too.”

  She flipped it over and found their names etched into the base.

  “Oh wow, look, they’re still there.”

  He reached out and touched her name. “We were partners in crime, you said then, and you made me swear to keep it a secret.”

  She touched his name. “I hated the humans so much back then.”

  “I was wrong to scold you, Philiastra. I was too infatuated with the humans to see them for what they really are.”

  She shook her head. “No, I was wrong about them, Wei. They’re not what I thought they were. Not all of them, at least.”

  He grinned. “You’re right, they’re much worse.”

  She burst out laughing.

  Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. Hey, you wanna go canopy surfing?”

  “YES! But I don’t know how.”

  “No problem, I’ll teach you.”

  * * *

  If the crowd was excited before, they completely lost their minds when Sirend, Lord of Waters, flew across the colosseum, leaving a trail of shimmering seafoam behind him. Never in living memory had an Elder God attended a duel personally, and the special throne built for him to observe along the neutral midline was lavish, crafted from living seawater and brimming with living organisms within and without.

  The new announcer strolled out onto the field. She was shorter and younger, with freckled cheeks and a large scarf that covered her mouth. She twisted the handle of her clockwork staff, and her voice carried out over the winds as if he were sitting right next to every man, woman, and child, whispering into their ears.

  “What is truth? Truth is that conflict makes us stronger, opposition makes us grow, struggle makes us mature. And we are blessed by the bureaucracy that leads our Empire to victory and glory.”

  The crowd applauded lightly, confused at the alteration of the traditional wording, but Sirend clearly approved, so they kept their trepidation to themselves.

  She spun around, her staff lifting her up into the air.

  “Welcome ladies, gentleman, and others, to duelist court!”

  Sirend waved his hand, and goblets of wine appeared in many hands. The crowd cheered so loud the very stone trembled.

  Lichas came out first. Few of his followers had been able to make the journey, and it clearly showed by the weak smattering of applause. His stormy form, like storm clouds teased into the form of a man, whirled and thundered as he took his seat.

  “Lichas! Lichas! Lichas!” His people cheered.

  Ambera came out next, a tangled mess of nerves coated with a thin veneer of feigned confidence. Her home court advantage worked in her favor; her followers managin
g a riotous cheer with the help of Sirend’s spirited drinks and more than a few promptings from her priestesses.

  “Ambera! Ambera! Ambera!” Her people cheered.

  The Goddess settled into her booth while the announcer prattled on. Next to her was high priestess Acantha, seething in her sweaty fox costume.

  Ambera took out a piece of gum and placed it into her mouth to calm her nerves. “Why are you still wearing that smelly thing?”

  Acantha glared at her. “Because you commanded me to wear it until otherwise commanded.”

  “Did I really? Huh. Well, keep wearing it, I kind of like it.”

  “Yes, my goddess,” she answered venomously.

  Ambera smacked her gum. “That’s a harsh tone for you.”

  Acantha clenched her jaw. “The red fever plaguing the Western Isles has run rampant. I just received word that the members of my family living there have passed away.”

  Ambera smacked her gum. “Did they really? Well, not even a god can bring someone back from the dead. Don’t worry, I can get you a new family.”

  Acantha looked at her in disgust. “Are you serious?”

  Ambera nodded graciously. “Well, you’ve served me faithfully for a long time now, I’d be happy to assign you to a new family, maybe one of the Galanos from Ápinso? Ooh, or perhaps…”

  “I don’t want a new family!” Acantha spat in revulsion.

  Ambera looked at her in confusion. “What?”

  “You treat my priestesses like whores, you humiliate me at every opportunity, you bathe your body in ambrosia while my family dies of disease you could easily cure, and you ask me ‘WHAT?!’”

  Ambera rolled her eyes dismissively. “I’ll deal with you later, I don’t have time for this right now.”

  The announcer floated to the center of the field and set down a golden book on a pedestal. “The claims have already been entered. With what weapon will you fight?”

  Ambera stood up and held out her hand, trying to look confident. “I fight with my fists.”

  The main gate opened and Storgen stepped out. The crowd cheered wildly for him, louder even than they had for Sirend, something the Elder God clearly noted. Storgen had to shield his eyes from the bright lights of the arena, his sense of balance a little off from the wax in his ears, barely able to make out what was being said.