by L. R. W. Lee
“That is an interesting coincidence.”
It isn’t an answer, but before I can probe, Harpoc says, “Speaking of languages, I promised to get you started learning to speak hieroglyph.”
He’s a master at diverting my attention, but I notice. He promised to be forthcoming, but I’ll let him keep this little secret… for now, because hopefully I’ll be able to start communicating with everyone sooner rather than later, and then I’ll have all sorts of folks to ask my questions. Mwhahaha.
“By the way, why does everyone else speak hieroglyph?”
He gives me a questioning look.
“It isn’t exactly a common language.”
He bobs his head like he finally understands my question. “Are you asking why hieroglyph is the language of choice?”
“Yes, exactly.”
He smiles. “Why not? It was the first language I ever spoke.”
My eyes go wide as my brain takes off at a sprint. “Is… is that why the oldest manuscripts on Earth are all in it?”
He shrugs. “Don’t know, probably. I was there in the very beginning of that planet.”
My jaw drops. But of course he was. I mean, I know he’s ancient. Of course he was there when Earth began, but hearing him say that….
He chuckles. “I’ll ask Portia to show you to the library. They should be able to at least get you started with some speaking books.”
“Speaking books?”
“I believe you call them audiobooks on Earth.”
Hieroglyph. I still can’t believe it. “Right. Great. Thanks.”
“I’ll find you when I return.”
While the thought of a library close by excites me, I have to ask, “Can I come with you? Zeki was dangerous.”
Harpoc stops, midstep, and our gazes lock. “Pell, Zeki’s a child compared to who I’m going to see. It’s not safe for you.”
As I expected, but I had to ask.
The fairies are flying laps around the inside of my stomach, and not in a good way with all the stimulants I’ve consumed. I feel jittery, and my angst about where Harpoc’s going and the danger he’ll meet only eggs them on, despite… especially since… he’ll need an armed escort.
I glance over at him as we reach the landing.
Gods can’t die, can they?
Chapter Seven
Harpoc bellows, doing his best to fend off Nuria’s pummeling shadows.
They’ve been at each other for nearly an hour, and I’ve watched the whole thing from my perch above their training room, at times biting my nails, other times covering my eyes. The railing and my poor library book have both taken the brunt of my angst because I’ve squeezed both of them tight a time or two, but I can’t help it.
Only Harpoc’s half naked, very toned form keeps my gaze on the match, on him, because I can’t not. His black stretch shorts accent his toned and muscular physique. Appreciating his firm body behind me in bed is one thing, but seeing—okay, ogling—this fine male specimen is another.
Down, girl, my inner minion warns.
Why? This is part of getting to know “all” of him. I start making panting noises in my head, and she shuts up.
For her part, Nuria’s olive-complected body is nothing to sneeze at either, with her black sports bra and leopard leggings. She’s got her long white hair pulled back in a white scrunchie making her violet eyes look almost menacing. They stand out, that’s for sure. I can’t spot even an ounce of fat on her bare midriff.
They’re both immortals of great beauty as well as power, unlike little ol’ mortal me. I’ll appreciate, but not participate—Grace would have a field day, probably get me slammed against a wall and knocked silly with secret magic. I’m still not clear what all it can do, but I’d rather learn from watching than experiencing.
Nuria’s higher pitched shout returns my attention. She lands hard on the thick, navy mat that covers the entirety of the floor—after Harpoc’s shadows flip her. But she’s not giving up, because another swirling mass wriggles beneath Harpoc’s shadows and surrounds his bare feet in an instant. A quick jerk, and he’s falling on his butt, too.
Nuria laughs as she bolts up, but there’s a gleam in Harpoc’s gold and silver eyes. I know that look. It means look out. I smile to myself.
He throws a dark swirl around her. It’s so dense I lose sight of her. But then the dark wisps contract suddenly.
“I yield.” A strangled cry goes up from within the black void.
Their shadows are deceiving, that much is abundantly clear. They look like smoke, sometimes thicker, sometimes thinner, but boy, do they pack a punch.
Who woulda thunk?
Harpoc’s shadows recede a second later, and he stalks over to where Nuria’s still down on the mat, chest heaving like an accordion.
“Good… one,” Nuria says, smiling.
He’s as winded as she is and only smiles, then extends a hand. She grabs hold, and he pulls her to her feet.
“Time for one more round?” he asks.
She nods. “Let me grab a drink first.”
My breathing calms, and I sit back down in one of the molded black chairs of the bleachers, laying my book in the empty seat beside me.
That book, I still laugh. I’m actually reading a trashy romance in hieroglyph—it’s too funny. My trip to the library yesterday was a bust. Harpoc may have left Portia with instructions to direct me to “talking” books in order to learn hieroglyph, but all I got were lots of very puzzled, very strange looks when I attempted to gesture what I was looking for.
That said, I stayed up late reading one of the two books I borrowed because the story is, well… very seductive. I snicker. I missed the Core’s meeting because I slept in—yes, I have my priorities right. Harpoc woke me with a kiss when he returned, asking if I wanted to watch him train.
Do bears pee in the woods? Heck yeah.
“Good morning, Pell.”
The tenor voice makes me turn my head, and I find the general striding toward me. He’s dressed in a navy muscle tee and black stretch shorts, and I can’t help but appreciate his bulging chest, muscled arms, and… other parts. I chuckle to myself.
“They’re going one more round after they take a quick break.” I nod toward where Nuria and Harpoc are guzzling water from bottles, white towels draped over their shoulders.
He drops his bag on one of the molded seats, then takes one himself, leaving the one with my book on it between us.
“Are you enjoying your time here so far?” His gray eyes reflect only kindness.
“I am, thank you.” I hold up my book. “Went to the library yesterday.”
“You read hieroglyph?”
I bob my head. “I do.”
His eyebrow hitches.
“I taught myself in order to read the inscription on this.” I hold up my ring.
His head nods a bit more slowly this time. I don’t know him at all, but it feels like he’s trying to figure something out. “I see.”
“On Earth no one knows how to speak hieroglyph, it’s only a written language, but Harpoc promised to teach me.”
“Did he?” He rubs the wisp of white hair on his chin.
A bellow, Harpoc from the sounds, interrupts us, and I look in time to see dark swirls twirling him around like a top.
I can’t help but laugh.
Idris chuckles, too. “They’re both strong, but Harp’s stronger so it’s always fun to see what new move Nuria comes up with to blunt his advantage.”
I’m curious so I ask, “How did you come to work with Harpoc?”
The general returns his gaze to me. “I am the son of a king, of Xannuros Realm.”
He’s a prince?
“My people are a warring people who believe might is all that matters. They strive to prosper through conquering.”
The Mycenaean’s behaved similarly.
“You don’t agree?” I ask.
Idris shakes his head. “In war time, the winner takes plunder, but it’s not susta
inable. A kingdom must continue investing significant resources in arms and fighters in order to do so. Meanwhile, those not fighting starve because either crops are not planted, or the enemy destroys the crops that are.”
I nod. It’s a familiar cycle.
A frustrated shout from below draws our attention. It’s Nuria this time. Harpoc’s got her suspended, upside down, about five feet off the ground, his shadows swirling around an ankle.
Idris chuckles, then looks at me again. “I have experienced the chaos and destruction of war and have come to believe in prosperity through peace.”
Perhaps we have something in common in our dislike of chaos.
“Despite being an officer in his army, my father and I didn’t see eye to eye. As his tenth heir, he called me spoiled and soft and used my nine older siblings to try to change my mind… by whatever means.”
I suck in a breath. No doubt it’s how he earned his scars.
“Harp and I met when he came to seal a secret for my father. Seeing the situation I was in, he invited me to return with him. I had no future in Xannuros, but I knew my father would hunt me down if I left. Harp told me his empire seals secrets, and I was intrigued, so I accepted his offer.”
Idris says it like it was no big deal, but ain’t no way. I can’t imagine the horrors he’s endured, not with the scars he bears.
“So do you believe secrets prevent chaos?”
He smiles, then holds up his hands which I note also bear a few scars. “I’m living proof of it. I’m not a sealed secret obviously or I couldn’t speak with you about myself, but my family hasn’t interfered since I’ve been here. They’re probably afraid Harp will let their secrets slip.” He chuckles.
He hasn’t answered my question, so I press. “Yes, but do you believe the practice of sealing secrets, as in making it so the secret, or more specifically, so the person who pays to seal the secret, is never discovered, prevents chaos?”
He tilts his head, clearly curious why I’m asking. “Say more.”
I only met him so I’m not sure how much to say, but I honestly want to know what he thinks. “On Earth, corrupt politicians pay to seal secrets. It allows them to avoid punishment, but the common person without similar means or power would never get away with what that person did. They’d be sent to prison.” Even as I say it my anger flares.
“So unfairness bothers you.”
I furrow my brow and bite back anger.
“Being punished in the way that I was, because I didn’t accept my father’s perspective, wasn’t fair, would you agree?”
“Yes, of course, and Harpoc found you a way out.” There’s a bit more force behind my words than I intend.
“Do you think Harp makes that offer to every persecuted being he comes across?”
“There’s a lot of….” I don’t want to offend him, but I motion to the side of his face.
“Scarred,” he says.
“Yes, scarred beings here.”
“There didn’t used to be. I was one of the first.”
“Really?”
“He asked me to head up his military.”
“As payment?” My voice rises.
“As I said, I am not a sealed secret, so no. As a request, for which I am paid. You could say that my being here isn’t fair to the number of persecuted beings who aren’t here.”
“Well, not every persecuted being has met Harpoc.”
“And that’s fair?”
“No, it just is.”
Idris bobs his head. “Exactly.”
I’m not following.
“Life’s not fair, it just is. I don’t look at life as fair or unfair, because I can’t change that. To me, life is about bettering yourself, improving your lot, and that requires opportunities. But life doesn’t deal out opportunities equally, so if I can facilitate more beings having more opportunities, all the better.”
“But what about the result of those opportunities? Doesn’t that matter?” That is, fostering the sealing of corruption that allows some to live above the law.
“None of us are equal, so our opportunities vary widely. I’m not so much concerned about what a being does with an opportunity, as in helping them get them because opportunities are the key to bettering oneself. Some squander them, others use them, but the key is having them. Think if Harp had never come to seal a secret for my father. I’d probably still be in dire straits.”
Idris has a good heart wanting to help folks improve themselves, but in this case, part of it’s via sealing the wrong some have done, allowing them to get away with outright corruption. They improve their lot all right.
“I yield!” Nuria’s cry draws our attention.
Harpoc’s grinning, dripping sweat. They both are.
“Looks like I’m up. Have to give the old guy more than a magical workout. I’ll try to take it easy on him.” Idris stands and picks up his bag. “It was nice chatting with you.”
Old guy? I smile. “You, too.”
I understand why Idris thinks the way he does, but I respectfully disagree, not that I’m surprised; he does work for the god of secrets after all.
Clearly I have no potential ally with him, to change Harpoc’s mind.
I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but what will it take to do so?
Chapter Eight
“I have a surprise for you.” Harpoc wags his brows above his twinkling eyes, and the fairies in my stomach take flight.
You’re such a love sap, my inner voice chides.
I don’t care, any surprise that has him looking at me like that has got to be good.
“What is it?”
“You’ll see soon enough.” He smiles as he nudges my shoulder with his.
I’m sitting beside him on the upholstered bench in his closet, watching him put on his black socks.
My chest still feels light because he invited me in here as soon as he left the shower with just a towel wrapped around his waist after that grueling double workout. He takes modesty in stride, and I can’t say I’ve been disappointed with the show while we chat.
Oh, mama.
I picture my inner minion rolling her eyes despite remaining silent. She knows there’s nothing she can say that will make me behave.
His hair is wet, but combed in its usual orderliness, he smells amazing, and seems surprisingly energized—I’d be sound asleep after what he put himself through. He’s got stamina… for such an old guy.
I almost tamp down on a snicker. Almost. Hey, Idris started it, not me.
Don’t I recall something about you robbing the old folks home, Pell?
I ignore my inner minion because that’s just too gross to contemplate.
“What’s so funny?” He’s wearing a charcoal gray sweater with black pants. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in a casual pullover, but as always, he looks mmm, mmm, sexy-ass hot.
“Oh… nothing.” I chuckle.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” He reaches over and squeezes my leg, just above the knee in that ticklish part, and I yip and try to pry his hand away, but he’s not letting go. It doesn’t help that I can’t stop laughing.
He’s laughing, too, as he squeezes again, and I screech.
“Stop…. Please.” It’s hard to talk, chortling as hard as I am, but he stops.
“Still my little harpy.” He leans forward and plants a kiss on my forehead. “What was so funny?”
“Idris called you an old guy, is all.”
“Did he now?” He’s grinning.
My eyes dance at that. “He did, but I’m allowed to tell on him because it hasn’t been sealed as a secret.”
Harpoc snorts. “He’ll learn his lesson.”
“So where are we going?” My leg begs to bounce with building excitement, but I force it to remain still.
He stands, then grabs his duster out of a closet. “Go get your coat, and you’ll soon see.”
There’s a sliding glass door through the breakfast nook, off the kitchen. It slides open with a tho
ught, and I follow him outside. My jaw drops when I take in the pool—no doubt heated—in the balcony.
But of course he has a pool, silly me, what else would I expect?
An overlarge white sectional sofa overflows with brown and black throw pillows around a fire pit that’s cool at the moment. It’s calling me to curl up with my hieroglyph romance, right here. Too bad there’s not a view of the city from here, it would be perfect, but the castle wall’s just a bit too high.
Alas, even a god can’t always have perfection, poor baby.
Shouts and rumbles rise, and I look over at Harpoc.
“The rats are still at it, but Idris has it in hand. Come.”
Harpoc scoops me up in his arms after I finish buttoning my long coat, then he’s beating his wings that have reappeared, launching skyward, toward the sun that’s nearing its zenith.
As we clear the wall, I spot three armored gryphons with riders diving, talons extended, toward several large rats whose broadswords glint in the sun—I think I spot Idris on one. His horns make him rather distinctive even at this distance. Four sphinxes prowl about the conflict, lending support along with black armored troops.
I shake my head, still not believing how fantastic this place is. I’m so taken by it and the scenery that I have no thoughts of engaging in mischief with the buckles on Harpoc’s coat.
Floating islands. They register several minutes after we clear the city. They’re freaking amazing. Humongous chunks of land… they just drift on air currents. How? I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m a scientist, and it boggles my mind; they defy gravity.
It’s my first real view of things since it was dark when we arrived the other night, and the scenery robs me of words. Some islands are vast swatches of forest, others desert-like, nearly devoid of vegetation. Some are volcanic, others mountainous, while others are flat as pancakes. Small villages and large cities alike, populate them to varying degrees.
Harpoc points out the infinity waterfall he mentioned as we flew in. It plunges over the edge of one of the islands, the water somehow ending up back at the top of the mountains to do it all over again, just like he said. It’s definitely a sight to behold.