Disclaimer: cha, right.
spoilers: see prologue
Author's note: this should've been up days ago, but the Internet was down at my house for a good while so I'm only now just getting up. Stupid AOL, broadband or no.
warnings: the timeline might boggle your mind. Just trust me.
/Chapter Nine: A Thing for Killing/
"And it isn't the shame and it isn't the blame
That stings like a white-hot band
It's coming to know that she never knew why
(Seeing at last she could never know why)
And never could understand."
-Rudyard Kipling, "The Vampire"
Dusk had barely begun to settle over the sandy shores of the Aegean Sea when Farah began to drift off into sleep. Guilty, she struggled to remain awake until she felt a strong hand on her shoulder.
She blinked and looked into the dark, soothing eyes of Ctrynous. "Rest now, my lady. Leander and I will watch over the camp."
If you could call where they rested a camp. It was mostly the trodden area where Ctrynous and his son Leander had walked. In the center rested Farah, with the Prince's weakening head on her lap.
Her fingers cupped the smooth plain of her cheek as she rested her elbow on her knee. Despite her guilt over it, she found herself drifting once more. Her body had been a constant state of tiredness ever since her kidnapping. No matter how much she slept it seemed she could never rest.
In her sleep, the dreams returned to her. Flashes of fragments of memories that drifted through the expanse of her brain.
…Waking up beside him. Farah frowned. Who was 'him'? She couldn't remember. Everything was a blank slate in her mind. This place, dusty and reeking with age, was dim, only a small candle as light.
She rested on a wide slab of stone, her head pillowed against a bare, muscled chest. She blinked in surprise. What had…?
And then she was standing up, moving across the dirt ground. Her movements were not her own. It was almost as if they were happening to someone else, even though it was her body that was moving. She had no control over what she did.
Her fingers closed over the silver handle of a dagger. Farah lifted it and watched it shine in the light and then placed it at her waist belt.
It was the Dagger of Time!
But what—
How…?
Farah jolted awake blinking. Her fingers slipped down and pressed against the cool metal of the Dagger of Time. It had been in her dream. She had never dreamt about the Dagger before.
And it had all seemed so real. She could remember the warmth of her living pillow—the soft, human chest beneath her dark head—the dim light of the candles, and the deep, regretful ache of her chest.
What had that been? It seemed too vivid to be a dream, but too vague to be a memory. And how could it be somewhere between that? What was between a dream and a memory?
"You slept no more than two hours, my lady," Leander said softly. He sat across from her and Farah could barely make him out in the darkness. Ctrynous was a dark silhouette against the crystal water that lapped against his hooves.
Moonlight played against the sea, like a silver sheen had been lowered gently onto the dark waters.
"Has Anthria come yet?' she asked even though she could tell by herself.
"No. But have no fear. I have never heard of Anthria not keeping her word. Especially when it's bound to a god," Leander pointed out gently. There was a half smile on his face, part of it hidden in the darkness.
Just as he said that Ctrynous' equally soft voice called, "On the horizon… Lady Anthria's boat approaches." All heads turned to the spot where the wizened centaur gazed. And, indeed, a small, wooden boot made its way steadily toward them, gliding ghostlike across the sea.
And the boat went to beach, Anthria jumped from its mast. She grabbed a long coil of rope from its side and dragged it fully up the beach. It was a small boat, with a small roof over the bottom half of it, and a long mast, with the captain's wheel on the roof.
"The seas are soft tonight," Anthria pointed out as she approached Ctrynous. "We should leave now. Besides, the boy does not have much time left."
"As you wish it," Ctrynous replied and nodded to Leander. Tenderly, the younger centaur picked up the Prince and carried him over to Anthria. Farah silently followed behind him. Anthria motioned to the boat.
"There is one bed beneath the wheel," she told the centaur. "Take the prince down below. The rest of us will have to make do with the deck."
"Understood, my lady," Leander said and leapt onto the boat with expert grace. His hooves clattered against the floorboards and he disappeared below the ship.
"And you, Farah?" Anthria asked as Ctrynous moved to follow his son. She kept her eyes locked with Farah's. "How do you fair?"
"Weary," she admitted and walked into the water, the water lapping at her ankles. "And worried. The Prince will survive, won't he?"
"If we can get him to Asclepuis then there is no doubt that the boy will be fine." Anthria smiled humorlessly as she said, "He is the finest healer of all the immortals."
"Who is Asclepuis(1)?" Farah asked as she approached Anthria as the older woman coiled the rope around her wrist.
"He is a man-turned-immortal," Anthria answered with her humorless smile still in place. "There are a few of them. Hercules, Psyche, and Asclepuis are probably the best known ones." She tossed the rope onto the deck of the boat.
Farah had just begun to wonder how she was going to go about getting onto the boat when Anthria grabbed her hips. As Farah gave a small squeak of surprise, Anthria unceremoniously lifted her onto the wooden deck and then leapt up herself.
"You mean there is an actual way for a mortal to become… immortal?" Farah asked, surprised.
"Not normally. Most of the mortals that are turned into gods have some connection to them, save for Psyche but she married Eros." Anthria motioned silently to Ctrynous. The centaur jumped from the boat to push it gently into the water. "Asclepuis was the son of Apollo, the sun god, and the nymph Coronis."
Anthria paused in her explanation the climb up the small ladder leading to the steering wheel. Farah followed and sat down at the railing, waiting patiently for the woman to continue with her story.
"Well," Anthria said after a long pause. She glanced over at Farah as the young woman brought her knees to her chin. "Coronis actually had the gull to take a secret lover while she was with Apollo. The god was enraged and he had his twin sister, Artemis, kill Coronis with a disease. However, when the young nymph's body was burning on the pyre, Apollo saved the baby that still grew in her womb and Asclepuis was born."
"How could a man do that?" Farah demanded as she stared up into the night sky. "To his own son?"
"Well, the gods are not known for their kindness," Anthria pointed out softly. "They are not known for it at all. Asclepuis was raised by Chiron, the wise and calm centaur, and he was taught the healing art. Most gods feared that he it would only be a matter of time before Asclepuis could even stop death. Thus, Zeus banished him to the small isle of Chios, where he heals only those brave enough to seek him out."
"Is it very dangerous? Chios?"
"Only if you're not prepared for the worst." Humorlessly, Anthria looked at Farah over her shoulder. "And I am always prepared for the worst."
It was the bitterest sentence Farah had ever heard. She thought it must have said a lot about Anthria's previous life. I am always prepared for the worst. Farah thought that Anthria's life had to be bitter and hard for that tone of voice to fit so perfectly with her. Then she remembered something.
Ctyrnous's words.
"Anthria's story is something great and terrible and sad, but it is her story to tell."
"You're a noble person, Anthria," Farah told her and was surprised at her own words. They tumbled out of her before she could stop herself and somehow they held a ring of truth to them. Noble. That fit Anthria.
Regally, she raised her chin in a stubborn protest. "I am not noble."
"You don't have to be a good person to be noble," Farah pointed out gently, staring into her Amazon features. "And you're tragic, too. I can tell by looking into your eyes. What made you so bitter to everything?"
Anthria said nothing. For the first time, her face tightened in an uncontrollable rage. Her fingers locked around the wooden handles of her steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.
"Anthria, what—"
"It is none of your concern," Anthria growled menacingly. Farah almost jumped. This was why everyone said Anthria was intimidating, so deadly. This voice she spoke in. Final. Deadly.
Then Farah stood weakly, feeling her heart pound. She was frightened, frightened of tomorrow, frightened of now, frightened of Anthria. "I'll go check on… on him." She turned hurriedly and made her way down.
"Damnit," Anthria cursed.
--&--
The next day the skies still remained peaceful and clear. Anthria stood resting at the mast, hips slanted. At the tip of the boat, Leander stood, looking worse for wear. He was not handling the boat trip well.
Farah was down below, tending to the Prince as he came in and out of coconsciousness, trying vainly to cool his fever.
She was afraid of her, Anthria could tell. There was a guarded look in Farah's eyes whenever they landed on Anthria, like she wanted to say something but was afraid it would cause the tension of last night.
My fault… Anthria thought and rubbed her temples. A lot of things are my fault.
Ctrynous came up beside her, his hooves clanking against the flanks of the ship. She said nothing as he settled on his hooves next to her. "Farah is—" he began and stopped when Anthria turned her head to look at him.
"I am aware." And she wasn't going to do anything about it. The scars were still raw. Would she allow anyone to look at them, ever. "Yes?"
"You do not share your story, though you have worked with many," Ctrynous pointed out gently. "But despite it, your story still has been told. I know it, as my son knows it. The Princess Farah is your companion, for now anyway. Do you not think it is her right to hear the true version of the tale?"
"No," Anthria said in a voice that was final. Ctrynous gave a small sigh and he too leaned against the mast of the ship.
"Anthria of Sparta," Ctrynous said in a small voice. "Many hate you, many have cause to. But there are people who respect what you did once, before Hades became your master. The girl has a right to know."
She pushed herself from the mast and went to walk away. Ctrynous watched her go to the steering wheel of the ship and stare out into the sinking sun. It splattered gold rays over the dark ocean.
"Look upon her, Anthria," Ctrynous said softly and drew Anthria's reluctant attention to him once more. "She is young and frightened and possibly in love. She is risking everything to protect her family and her future. Does she remind you of anyone? A young soldier perhaps?"
"Silence, centaur," Anthria said harshly and the wizen horse-man walked away, leaving the woman with a sour taste in her mouth.
--&--
"No… Dagger…" The Prince twisted in his sleep, twining the thin sheet over his sweating body around his legs. "Stop… have to… time…"
Humming softly, Farah dipped a thin, white cloth into a cool bowl of water. After one day, she had gotten used to the Prince's incoherent muttering. She gently lowered the cool cloth to the Prince's sweltering forehead.
Without warning, the Prince grabbed her wrist. Farah gave a small scream of surprise, but wasn't truly scared. He pulled her closely and his unseeing eyes opened to stare blindly at her.
"Don't—don't…" he murmured, his grip on her wrist tightened. "…hate me—don't…" He released and fell back onto the bad, moaning softly.
She stared down at his clenched and frightened face. All she wanted to do was hold him and chase away whatever nightmares haunted him. She brushed away the hair from his face and mumbled softly, "I'll protect you… don't worry. I'll watch over you until you're better."
"Farah—" he rasped and she backed away slightly, blushing.
Why on earth would he say her name in his sleep? Yes, he had been the Persian soldier to reveal to her the treachery of the Vizier, but other than that it seemed like they knew nothing else of each other.
Farah settled back in her seat beside the Prince. He slept on a hammock hooked into the wall in the small bedroom of the ship they sailed to Chios on.
Her fingers touched his bare arm and a funny sensation tickled her stomach. It was almost as if she had done this all before, touched the Prince like this when she knew she hadn't. It was almost familiar and almost new, somewhere between the two. She couldn't explain, but seeing her tanned hand on his dark skin made her mind twist and reel with an almost memory that wouldn't form completely in her head.
Sandals scraped against the wooden stairs leading into the small room and Farah turned to see Anthria come into the dim room. Night had settled above deck and she bore a small candle in her arm.
Quickly, she looked away. She had been careful to avoid Anthria ever since that night on the boat. By asking that question about her past, Farah had brought up the anger in Anthria. She didn't want to do so again.
And yet… she still wanted to know.
Anthria took a seat beside Farah as she focused all her attention on the Prince. With a sigh, she took the cloth on the Prince's forehead and dipped it back into the cool bowl. Then she placed it back on its position.
"There was—is—a law in Sparta," Anthria said slowly, a tinge of sadness in her voice. "That said for every household, one person must fight in the army. It did not mention gender nor age nor disability."
Hardly daring to believe it, Farah held her breath. Was Anthria going to tell her? Tell her about her tragic past?
"My father fought for my household and at the end of the war came back to us paralyzed." Anthria raised her eyes and looked away, in the far off past. "I was nineteen and only a few months after my father's return I married. It was an arranged marriage and I had never met the man before."
Her story was so much like Farah's only… only Farah was kidnapped before she was forced into a marriage of arrangement.
"But he was a kind man, my husband, and no more than a child as I. His family had been taken by a fever and so he lived with us on our farm. Within a year, I loved him. It wasn't hard," Anthria admitted softly, her eyes growing farther and farther away. "But war was not far from us. It never is far from Sparta. Within the second year of our peaceful marriage Sparta clamored for war. My husband went for my father, and my mother, and myself."
The Prince moaned softly, jerking his head to the left. Farah touched his cheek with her cool finger, whispering soothingly to him. "Hush, hush."
Undaunted by the incoherent mumblings of the Prince, Anthria went on, "For seven long years my husband fought in the war against Athens. And then… the war was over and the soldiers were allowed to come home. My husband returned to us not the boy he left as, but as a man. A full, grown man." She sighed softly, a breath parting through her lips. "And I was no longer a girl. I had learned how to survive by myself as my parents grew weak and old."
And in her mind, Anthria could see that day as if it had all happened yesterday…
The blazing Spartan sun, the dusty ground, the decaying roots of crops burning in the summer heat. The stone, open villa she lived on. Her mother gardens behind the house and her father rests on a smooth cot beside her.
She hangs out their clothes on the stone, two-foot wall in front of her house. Her fingers have callous' from the work she has done on the farm. Soldiers pass through their farm daily and she has a sword beside her hip.
That is when she hears the undeniable sound of sandals hitting the dead earth. As the wind picks up and blows at her long, thick chiton she reaches down for her sword. "Move along, I do not wish to harm you and we have nothing of interest for you."
"I think you do," the soldier answers and Anthria draws her sword from its sheath. "After all, you are my wife."
Gasping, she spins, the sword dropping to her feet. She will always remember what it is like to see him standing there, armor glittering in the sun and a worn rucksack slung over his shoulder.
They stare at each other for a long moment, his dark eyes piercing even with one covered by a curtain of his own dark locks. Then she steps towards him, whispering his name—a name she no longer has the courage to speak. Then, without any pretense, he grabs her by the hips and brings her against his harsh amour, devouring her mouth like a starving man would food. She rests against his arms and let him.
"For almost four months, he was allowed to stay with us, my husband. They were the happiest times of my life…" She smiled weakly, touching her lips as she could still feel her husband's lingering taste. "Then another war began, this time against Messenia(1). My husband went again, to fight for us, and he… died in the first battle, his troupe caught by surprise by the enemy. They sent his ashes home and I scattered them to the wind, praying they would protect my family."
Though Farah knew that had been coming it still came as a shock when Anthria told her. She looked into her face and saw the pain there. Anthria's memories of gathering up the ashes of her husband and allowing them to the fly into the wind around her house.
"Within the next year, I had our son," Anthria went on softly. Her hands slid down to touch her abdomen. "Arion, after his father. For three years, I raised him in love and happiness. But Sparta was still at war with Messenia and I had to fight as I was the only one capable. I was… skilled at fighting. It seemed I had the natural flare for it. For three long years I worked with a group of soldiers in covert operations, bringing the Messenians soldiers to their knees. And then… the Messenian War was almost over."
"Wait," Farah said suddenly. She looked away from the Prince and into Anthria's distant eyes. "Wait. The Messenian War?" Her mind clicked with the information, the images of the pages from the books she had read danced in her head. "But that was… forty-three… forty-five years ago!"
"Yes," Anthria admitted softly. It was.
"But you can't be more than—than thirty five!" Farah protested and stood. "How can you be—?"
Anthria stood and made her way to the stairs, a horrified Farah staring after her. Then she glanced at the young woman over her shoulder and said, softly, "The god of death has many powers to give to his servants."
Then, before Farah could ask another question, she turned and ascended the wooden stairs. Farah took her seat beside the Prince and stared at the spot where she had stood in confusion.
How can that be…? she wondered vaguely as she stroked the Prince's sweating face. How can she be that old… and not look old? She has to be close to sixty and she looks like she's thirty…
--&--
When dawn broke on the horizon the next day, Anthria could see the strip of land in the distance. Chios was small and narrow, filled with thick trees and a long beach. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for the wind to take them to the isle.
Leander came up beside her and admitted, "We have gotten here early." He glanced at her over his shoulder and gave her a small smile.
"There have been fair and fast winds for our journey," Anthria agreed with a calm and neutral voice. She had been distant and neutral all day because she was afraid that if she opened her heart to anyone that her emotions would flood her heart and burst.
"The gods have favored us," Leander pointed out. "Poseidon has seen to it that the winds take us swiftly to Chios so we can save the boy."
"I stopped relying on the gods to help me," Anthria said bitterly. "I know what comes from their… help."
"You are bitter. Very bitter. If you do not find a way to heal your ancient wrongs you will never find peace," Leander pointed out in wisdom. "That is something my father has told me, often. Chiron's own words to him."
"I will never have peace," Anthria told him harshly. She shrugged. "Years ago I came to understand it. I wish only for death and, before I die, to see those who have betrayed me also dead."
"They say the man you seek is dead," Leander pointed out.
"He is not dead. If he was, there would be a lessening in my empty heart. He is hiding," Anthria muttered and narrowed her eyes. "And I will see him dead before I take my path to Tartarus."
Leander shook his head and said nothing more. His long, black tail swished behind him as the island came closer and closer to them.
For almost an hour they stood in complete silence. Leander asked nothing more and Anthria offered just as much. The boat rocked beneath them in a gentle, soothing motion but they remained tense.
And then, Anthria turned and walked to the door leading to the room underneath the boat. "Ctrynous," she called down. "Prepare Farah and the Prince. We are going to land soon." Then she closed the door and made her way to the steering wheel.
By the time Farah and Ctrynous had managed to place the Prince on Leander's back, Anthria was beaching the boat. It slid up the sandy beach until it jerked to a halt. Anthria leapt from the captain's perch and landed softly beside Farah and the centaurs.
The centaurs were the first to leave the boat. Their hooves splashed up water as they galloped up the beach. Anthria leapt from the boat as well, the water lapping at her knees, and helped Farah get down. Together they trudged through the water, Anthria keeping a firm grip on Farah's arm.
Leander and Ctrynous walked in front of them, shaking their thick hides free of water. Farah and Anthria settled for shivering in their wet clothes. The sun was already beginning to become hot and no doubt their clothes would dry fast.
The forest of Chios was only a few yards away from them. Anthria quickly took the lead and Farah and the centaurs followed. Farah was sure to keep beside the Prince as he jerked away and then fell back to sleep again and again.
They were less than a yard away from the forest when Anthria held up her hand and made everyone halt. Her face was dark and enraged as she glanced around them.
"What is it?" Farah asked softly, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. There was something wrong. She could feel it.
Leander growled deeply in his throat and backed up, the Prince bouncing on his back. His head was jerked around and his left, front leg was twitching. Whatever was wrong with the island, he felt it too.
"I can smell them," Ctrynous said suddenly as his face darkened in a mask of rage. "They reek of blood."
"It's a trap," Anthria said grimly.
Before Farah could completely understand what was happening, a dark net descended on all of them.
story notes: (1) Asclepius was the actual god of healing, though he's a lesser known god. Before he became a good (he was only a demigod because his mother was a mere nymph), Zeus was said to have become enraged with him for selling his ability to raise the dead (a power no mortal should have). So Zeus struck Asclepius down with a thunder bolt but relented when he saw the good Asclepius had done and made him a god.
(2)the Messenian Wars took place in 7th and 8th century BC between Messenia and Sparta. There are many myths surrounding the wars and it is nearly impossible to separate fact from fiction. However, it is known that Messenia lost both wars and were made helots under Spartan rule. However, Messenians were a constant threat to Sparta and this was what forced them to be become a warlike city-state.
reviews
Super Becki: well, I aim to please
Rexnos: well, the real mythology is better than the crap Disney throws at us. In fact, I couldn't stand Troy and it's not only because I hate Brad Pitt. Okay, that helped a lot.
Sakura123: I miss Xena sometimes. But now I watch Grey's Anatomy, which is just addicted. Though I tend to hate the assholes in that show. It's easier to dive into mythology in a post-SoT world because SoT itself was like a taste of mythology. Warrior Within… not so much.
Black Emerald Dawn: my love affair with Greek and Roman mythology started at the tender age of 10 with the tale of Psyche and Cupid (which is one of the only stories with a happy end in all of mythology). Since then I've pretty much eaten everything I could find on culture, history, and myths on both Greece and Rome. Latin student, baby!
Jess: so no. Prince-y not awakened yet… but soon! Promise. The story is Prince of Persia, right? Right?
The One and Only Redd Wulf Riot: I liked centaurs, too. Or I did right up until I found out they raped people Oo My favorite mythological creatures are probably the Naiads, which make an appearance in this story (duh) followed by the Sirens.
Next Chapter Preview"Tengu!" Anthria cried in Farah's ears.
Weakly, she managed to raise her head and look at their new enemies. They were half-man, half-bird creatures. Short and lean, there faces gray and their noses abnormally long. They were long cloaks of black features and flew across the land, squawking. They dived at them and Farah felt the sharp beak of one jet into her skull.
Anthria pressed her hand against Farah's head to keep her safe. Struggling against the binding of the net, Farah tried to gain a hold on an arrow and her bow.
"Leander!" Ctrynous cried. "Get the Prince into the forest. Go!"
Farah managed to turn just in time to see Leander blazing past them, kicking his hind legs at the tengu creatures as he rode by. Farah realized that by backing up before the tengu had made themselves apparent, he had avoided becoming trapped by the net…
… Farah felt her fingers tightened over her bow and her fear brought forth another magickal energy that hovered inches above her knuckles. "What is this place?" she mumbled, feeling as if too loud a noise would disturb the silence that surrounded the area.
"The temple of Asclepius," Anthria answered, just as quiet.
Silently, they walked forward. On each side of the stone path was a flowing pool of water, overgrown with moss and lily pads and waterweeds. The water was dark and it was impossible to tell how deep it went.
But when she continued to look at it, she thought she saw—
Anthria turned and faced her when Farah halted in front of the small pool. "What is it?"