Ambrosia

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  Travelers and caravans panicked as the skies darkened, the sun momentarily blotted out by the passing shockwave.

  “What is that?”

  * * *

  Quiet as a shadow, Erolina cracked open the door just far enough to slip through, and made her way in the darkness over to a locked cabinet. A shell of nearly invisible blue energy separated it from the rest of the room. Holding out her hand, Erolina peeled off layer after layer, absorbing the energy until the barrier gave way and flickered out. Removing her dagger, she tapped a rune on the hilt, and the blade became a blur, quietly humming as she inserted it into the heavy lock. The metal twisted and deformed, and with a crack she pulled the lock free and silenced her weapon.

  Taking a quick look around to make sure she hadn’t been noticed, she opened the cabinet and looked inside. There she found two vials, one silver and filled with light, the other red and filled with darkness. Carefully she reached out for them.

  “What are you doing?” Lord Krýo Fidi called out.

  Erolina jumped in start, knocking over the vials and spraying a few loose drops inside the cabinet.

  As two tiny drops of the vials mixed together, Lord Krýo stretched out his arm and screamed.

  “Look out!”

  There was a violent reaction as the two drops met. Lord Krýo stretched his arm out and wrapped it around Erolina’s waist, whisking her outside as he flew through a window and out into the cold. They flew across the mountain vale and impacted with a snow bank a moment later, as the stately mountain manner sagged from within and collapsed. In the space of a heartbeat, wood rotted, metal rusted, and stone disintegrated. The trees in the courtyard withered and died, the grass shriveled away, and flowers became brown husks. The livestock in the stables fell, their bodies rotting away to bone before they even hit the ground. Birds and bugs fell dead from the air, and the ground came alive with worms and insects writhing to the surface to die.

  Erolina sat stunned in the snow, falling flakes landing on her face. Everything within the manor and for a half a mile around it was dead. Even the decorative rocks and stones of the mountain road had eroded away to dust.

  “You should not have gone snooping,” Lord Krýo warned. “You nearly killed us both.”

  “Me? You maniac! THAT is what you had me put into their water supply? A death curse!”

  “Calm down, you only put in one half of the curse, it’s completely harmless without the other half.”

  She stood up and pointed to the ashy remains of the manor. “That is not harmless. You’d better start making sense right now or so help me I’ll gut you where you stand!”

  “Very well. Several weeks ago I added one half of the curse to the water supply of the Agadisian armies. Thanks to you, the other half has been administered to the armies of Erotan. It will spread like a virus, quietly hiding within their blood for the next year or so, completely inert, unless it mixes with the other half.”

  “What good does that do?”

  “Let me ask you a question: Why do people fight?”

  “What kind of a question is that? Because they compete over resources, because they have incompatible ideologies, because they fear others outside their tribe, because they lust for power, because they were born to fight and conquer, all the usual reasons.”

  “Wrong. I’m surprised that a seasoned warrior like yourself understands so little of conflict.”

  “When I met you, you were the owner of a beauty salon, and you deign to lecture me on warfare?”

  “Please pay attention. People fight because they think they can win. It’s true of every race, even the gods themselves. If you remove any chance of victory, the fighting will end.”

  “But people always think they can win. People’s capacity for blind hope in the face of defeat is limitless, I’ve seen it a hundred times.”

  “No, it is not limitless. If you show them beyond a shadow of a doubt that victory is impossible, then they will turn to compromise and diplomacy instead. The certainty of defeat is the only thing that truly ends conflict.”

  He turned and looked out into the snowy valley far below, where a massive army of dragon riders was assembling. “The first time the warriors of Agadis and Erotan clash, they will spill each other’s blood. The two parts of the curse will become airborne and mix together. And every single soldier and beast on the field will instantly die.”

  “What? You can’t be serious.”

  “Serious as the plague. Afterwards, their leaders will become skittish. They won’t know why the first battle ended in mutual defeat. Both sides will wonder if the enemy has unleased some kind of new weapon. They’ll test out smaller raids instead, and each one will end the same way, with the complete annihilation of everything that participated.”

  “You’re going to kill tens of thousands of people.”

  “Yes, and in return, I will save tens of millions. That is the arithmetic of war. You sacrifice some to save the rest. What I am doing is no different than what every military leader is charged to do. The difference is, I am trying to save both sides at once.”

  “And what if I warn them of your monstrous plan?”

  “Monstrous? If you warn them, even more people will die.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “My solution only works if they do not know the source of the curse. After three or four skirmishes, the fighting will completely stop. Neither side will be willing to continue a war where every battle ends in the complete destruction of both sides. They will negotiate terms, and we will have peace. If you warn them, they will act to find a way around the curse, maybe even find a way to dispel it, and the war will resume as it would have otherwise. So, as a warrior, which outcome would you prefer? Would you prefer the war ends after only ten thousand or so people die, or would you prefer the war end after tens of millions of people die?”

  “Your tactics are cowardly. Instead of achieving victory in honorable combat, you skulk around in the shadows.”

  “Let me ask you, my dear, when you amazons aided the centaurs against the forest nymphs, was that honorable combat?”

  Erolina stood there fuming, unwilling to answer.

  “Ah, see? Who is the monster now? Believe me, I take no delight in the deaths that are to come, but it is the duty of every gentlemen to do what is right, no matter how hard it might be.”

  He took a deep breath, clearing his mind and looking down on the valley below.

  “This is the right thing to do.”

  The sun grew dark and the clouds fled as a black shockwave tore across the heavens, shattering the celestial ruins above. They both looked up in shock.

  “What is that?”

  * * *

  Philiastra and Wei sat on the uppermost branch of a mighty slumbering oak, perched at the edge of a cliff. Far down below on the valley floor, work teams of human slaves hauled stone and worked concrete, putting the final touches on a brand new aqueduct, ready to draw water from the pristine mountain lake and carry it far to the east, to the forge city of Vdélla.

  She tilted her head, trying to understand. “It’s so strange to watch them now. They look so small.”

  “So you do understand?”

  “Yes, they are so locked into a single body, a single lifetime. They live their lives with blinders on, skipping across the surface of a great ocean without ever plumbing the depths of it. They can’t even comprehend what they are missing.”

  “And that is why our kind were created by the fílos trees, to protect the eternal link of the forests. Nothing like it exists anywhere in the world, as once it is gone, it will be forever lost. We cannot let that happen.”

  “I feel sorry for them.”

  “They don’t need your pity. They need to know their limits. They need to know their place. They must know that the forests of the world are not theirs to threaten or harm ever again.”

  Philiastra looked to the lake. Even from here, she could feel all the young saplings along the western bank, mingling wi
th the older, stronger oaks. The elder trees had deep roots that could survive the lowering of the water level, but the young saplings did not, and would suffer greatly if the aqueduct was completed, and many might even die. She could feel the resentment of the trees there; it beat like a mighty pulse through the forest, calling out for protection, calling out for justice.

  “I hear them calling,” she said aloud.

  “They’re calling for you, Philiastra.”

  “They know what is coming, but they are not strong enough to protect themselves on their own.”

  “That is why you were born.”

  “Yes, I see it now.”

  She plucked an acorn and tossed it over the side, clattering like a tiny stone along the face of the cliff to the valley below. As it fell, she stood up and closed her green eyes, her body erupting in cool blue fire.

  “Let your feelings reach out to it, not your mind. Remember, this is not an equation, it is a song of the heart.”

  “I’m ready.”

  The acorn hit the ground, then exploded into a sapling, growing impossibly fast into a mighty oak. The ground erupted as its roots split the rock and soil, ripping apart concrete foundations and upheaving stone archways. Slaves and taskmasters were tossed about like dry leaves, screaming in fright as the aqueduct split and shattered, the mighty roots of the ever-growing tree wrapping themselves around pillar after pillar. Whole sections of the structure were brought down.

  The forest cheered as the humans rose and fled, taskmaster and slave alike sprinting for their lives. Many of the trees called out for more, urging her to kill them, demanding that she be the agent of their vengeance.

  Philiastra hesitated.

  Wei looked on as the humans ran farther and farther away, stumbling over one another in a frightened stampede. “What are you waiting for? Kill them.”

  She struggled. Even though the nearby trees had been put to sleep, the will of the forest beyond was enormous. She could feel the pressure pushing at the edge of her mind, impelling her forward. It would be so easy, their humans bodies were so frail compared to hers. They would break so effortlessly, like snapping a piece of straw…

  Philiastra lowered her hand and opened her eyes, watching as the humans ran into the distance.

  “Why did you let them go?” Wei asked, disappointed.

  “If I had killed them, then their superiors would not know what happened, and would have simply sent out new teams to repair the damage. This way, they will return to their bosses with frightened and terrified reports that the forest destroyed the aqueduct.”

  “And then they will return in force, with their hateful beasts of metal.”

  “No, they won’t. This is Godfather Kathidon’s territory; he only cares about profits. He’d rather look for another source, a cheaper source of water, than pay the enormous sum to raise and send an army out here. His greed will be our shield.”

  Wei smiled brightly. “I see that your time amongst the foreigners has made you wise to their ways. I am glad for that.”

  She forced out a tight smile. “Thank you.”

  She sat back down, her strength fading. “I feel empty inside.”

  “Using your magic draws heavily on your internal mana. In time, I will teach you how to replenish it from awakened trees.”

  “Why not teach me now?”

  “In time, in time. You must be patient.”

  He put her arm around her, and she leaned her head against his chest, listening to the distant cheers of the forest. She knew that if she drew any closer, they would see the damage done to her aura, the mark of alchemy that clung to her like a foul odor, and their cheers would end.

  She tried to snuggle in closer, but a bony rib bone pressed against her green cheek. Wei’s body felt so lean to her, so skeletal. She found herself wishing his arms were thicker, his chest broader, more like…

  A gentle kiss was placed on her shoulder, giving her goosebumps. Another kiss tickled her neck, then a tender nibble on her ear lobe.

  She wiggled uncomfortably, and he stopped.

  Looking into her eyes, he ran the back of his hand over her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

  “I…I’m just not ready for that yet.”

  “I understand. This has been a rough time for you. But if we are the last two of our kind, then we have a duty to rebuild our tribe.”

  “I know that, it’s just…”

  “It’s all right, I don’t want to make you do anything you are uncomfortable with.”

  “Thank you.”

  He reached up and untied the leaves of his turban, revealing the dried stumps and missing leaves along the left side of his head. “Just remember, I don’t know how much time I have left. If our species is to continue, we’ll need to start as soon as possible.”

  “I…I mean, yes, you’re right, or course. I’ll…prepare myself as best I can.”

  The forest shuddered and a great wind blew across the valley. They both looked up as the sun was blotted out by a great black shockwave passing across the heavens.

  “What is that?”

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Beyond the third level of the Underworld there is another place, though it would be wrong to call it a level. The very spot where the body of Death came to rest, where the Elemental’s corpse rends completely to shreds the ether of the cosmos. There, amid his rotting bones, his blood boils red hot even to this day, flowing like an eternal river around the remains of his gigantic heart. There was Fovos laid to rest, there was the body of the God of the Underworld hacked to pieces and discarded. There, his body eternally attempts to heal, but is prevented from even fully doing so as it is scalded and boiled in the bubbling blood.

  - Excerpt from the writings of Syrias the Seer, Forbidden Apocrypha

  (Three years before)

  I’m going to be an adult today, Agaprei thought happily as she stood with the other students in the temporary tent set up around the grave mounds of the kerameikos. Brightly painted funerary statues and grave stelai were adorned with prayer scrolls from friends and family, declaring before a notary that the deceased had attainted sufficient glory in life to merit reincarnation. The torchlight reflected off the heavy incense burning in the air to cover up the stench, giving the tent a kind of arborous glow.

  With her left hand Agaprei held clamped the inferior and superior vena cava, while with her right hand she delicately sewed shut a small incision made by the instructor in the right atrium to simulate a congenital heart defect.

  Miss Agaprei Aria Sonata, she thought to herself, deciding that she quite liked the sound of it.

  Lady Sonata. That one had a good ring too.

  Madam Sonata. That one sounded a bit too old for her tastes.

  “Hey Siren, watch what you are doing,” came a whisper from Milliam, the satyr student next to her. Agaprei broke her stride and looked down. She had accidentally sewn the thumb of her surgical glove to the cadaver’s heart.

  “Apple seeds,” she swore, placing her forehead on her shoulder. “Now I’m gonna’ have to redo the whole thing.”

  “Silence, Focus, Worship!” Instructor Tomara warned as she slithered between the relief sculptures and finials, careful not to disturb the small cakes and libations left by mourners earlier in the day. “The Ekphora is ended, we are only allowed one hour before the bodies must be buried in the graves.”

  “Work is worship,” the students chanted in unison.

  After a few more minutes, the hourglass at the front of the tent emptied its final grains, and the students breathed audible sighs of relief. As Tomara made careful inspection of their work, the students chatted happily among themselves, surprisingly cheery for being surrounded by dead bodies.

  Agaprei took off her gloves, thinking back to the first time she had come for open surgery practice. The sight of the lifeless cadaver had nearly made her scream out loud. Now, it bothered her no more than any other slab of meat. The spirit had been exhaled, and only crude material remained.


  “So, you know how the Agadis Pantheon is accepting the prayers of beastmen now?” Milliam asked quietly as she rubbed her sore knuckles.

  “Sure, the rapturous confirmation,” Agaprei acknowledged, unclasping her lavender hair and letting it fall down.

  “I finally tried it last night, and Scotonos answered me!”

  “Did he really?”

  “Yes! Himself! I mean, it was a recorded message, but still, it felt so amazing, I can’t describe it!”

  “That’s great!” Agaprei praised, trying to keep the sadness out of her eyes. Though she never admitted it to anyone, she had never had a rapturous confirmation. She had never felt anything at all while praying to the gods, and it bothered her more and more with each passing day.

  Suddenly, the rain pattering on the tent stopped, and the sun came out. A rush of hushed silence passed over the students as a figure drew near. Her white hood and cloak seemed to flow around her like ivory waterfalls. Her white hair hung on either side of her neck in perfectly formed braids held with silver clasps. Her face was flawless and kind, showing none of the age her hair indicated.

  “It’s her, the Bride of Natatheus,” Milliam whispered. “Look at how many celestial items she is wearing. She is so beautiful.”

  “I want to be just like her,” Agaprei whispered out loud, forgetting herself.

  The Bride of Natatheus entered the tent, the air becoming sweet and clean from her mere presence. She didn’t walk so much as glided, allowing the students who dared to reach out touch her bare hands, the rings on each digit flashing with magical power, blessing those who beheld them.

  She stopped short when she came to Agaprei, and did not offer her hands to her as she had the others.

  “Agaprei Sonata, you have applied to commune with the Oracle of the North, on today, the nineteenth year since your birth,” she said in sweet tones.

  “Yes, my lady,” Agaprei replied without averting her eyes.