Earth Borne (34 page)

The warmth departed her side for the first time in days. Poor creature, so faithful, yet it required sustenance. Why did the loss of the warmth make her so empty? There it was, that word again.

She asked many, but none knew what it meant.

We don’t feel
, was the consensus.
You are simply adjusting
, proclaimed others. They were right. Trees didn’t experience sadness, or happiness. Those were emotions, reserved for humans and animals.

Her companion, was it content? The question plagued her. She desired its contentment. Would the creature return? She prayed yes. She didn’t like being alone. Yet she was surrounded by
others
. A sea of voices. She was not alone.

Goddess
, the whispered word grew until everyone chanted.

Goddess
? The voices clashed against each other. The raucous, an onslaught against her mind.
Too loud.

She withdrew, seeking silence. The one called
Mother
floated to her and stayed with her. Then a tender warmth. Its warmth. Her companion was back.

Deep inside her essence, she clung to the warmth. It wasn’t natural. She wasn’t supposed to want for anything, yet she craved this. And another one, much smaller. Precious.

This one, this one she had to protect. She would give everything so this small one experienced that word—happiness. Whatever that was.

The other word—empty—was banished.

A new word took form.

Home.

She didn’t comprehend its meaning, but she latched on to “home” with all that she was.

***

Two days had passed since Persephone’s visit, yet time passed differently for the gods. He’d presented Persephone with an insurmountable task. Still, he grew restless. Staying beside a tree—the most immobile of creations—wore on him. He longed to gallop across the meadow with Melita upon his back, to swing his sword in practice with his brothers, to chase Lucian about the castle. The dear child didn’t understand that his “Mama” was a tree. He was as stubborn as Thereus in refusing to leave her.

Regarding his son beside him, Thereus refused to forsake Lucian. He’d reunite his family, or die trying. The latter held no appeal for him. He’d never cowered from any task and he wouldn’t begin now. His fingers rubbed his bonding mark, which hadn’t ceased its slow, torturous burn since Melita’s transformation. The days passed, and he waited, shuffling his hooves in impatience, for the glow of the violet goddess.

“Thereus!” Agrius trotted toward him. Ah, come again to beat sense into him. He grinned. It was useless, yet centaurs were stubborn creatures.

Every afternoon Agrius came. Today, he squatted with a grumble. “Hard rain yesterday.”

Thereus grunted a response. A little water wouldn’t keep him from Melita.

“You have duties, brother. At the castle. Melita took care of everyone. Now, that’s your responsibility. We all mourn her.” He squeezed Thereus’s shoulder. “Yet time has not stopped. She didn’t wish for you to rescue her. She wanted you to care for the ones she loved. Why can’t you trust her judgment?”

Thereus snorted. “You think it would come so easily, if Eione was the one transformed? No, brother. Don’t pretend to fathom my suffering. I need her.” He stroked the tree’s bark. “She needs me, too. I can’t explain it, I can only sense it. She may have chosen this, but she was desperate. She wished to save everyone, and she did.” He was proud of her, and bloody furious too that she had been so selfless. “That doesn’t mean this is her fate. Love can make even the impossible come true.” Fortified, Thereus stood and straightened his vest.

Agrius eyed him. “What are you doing?”

“You’re right. I must tend to matters.”

Agrius shifted to his feet while Thereus stretched his neck. He was damn sore after sitting for so long. “Oh, no, you’re staying.”

“What?”

“I’ll go and do what I must, but I trust none other to guard her.” He seized Lucian’s hand.

“W-wait,” Agrius sputtered. “She’s a tree, Thereus. She’s not going anywhere. She doesn’t require a guard.”

Thereus winked at him and galloped to Westgard. Agrius would do as he’d asked. He smirked. Even his brother had referred to his tree as “she.” Deep in his gut, he had faith the goddess would prove successful. He whistled low. Nothing came free. What he asked was enormous, the price would be as well. His gut told him Westgard was it.

What Persephone desired was her army, with Thereus leading the centaurs, Melita at his side. His love would strengthen her, just as Arsenius’s did Kyme.

He snorted. Well, Hades was a strategist. He chose his commanders with care. Thereus wouldn’t see much of Westgard, at least not for a while. Someone had to run it. He only trusted one person completely, other than his brothers. They had too much responsibility themselves, but this person, she was perfect.

“Alkippe.” He grinned as the shock of his appearance fluttered across her face.

“Milord.” She curtseyed.

“I must speak with you. Follow me.” He entrusted Lucian to his nursemaid and led Alkippe to his study. “Please, sit.” He waved to a chair. She did so, her hands wrenched together so tightly they paled.

“Relax, centauress. I’m here because…” He searched for the right words. “I must save her, Alkippe.” He gazed deep into her greying eyes. Tears swelled inside them.

“I understand, milord.” Of all people, Alkippe wanted them together more than anyone. She loved Melita like her daughter, and she alone would not question his motives or methods.

“The goddess Persephone will aid us, but she’ll require our loyalty in exchange. We won’t be able to remain at Westgard.”

Alkippe jumped out of her seat. “Milord, no.”

He held up a hand. “It must be done. I’d abdicate a thousand kingdoms for Melita. Whatever it takes.”

Sadness reigned in her frown. “That nymph life is not meant for one such as her. Melita has too much love in her, to have it stripped away. Too much joy to never share it again. You do anything you must to get her back, Thereus.”

He smiled at her. Precisely what he’d hoped to hear. “I must ask a favor of you. Would you oversee Westgard in my stead?”

Protests stuttered from her lips. “I’m not—”

He waved them away. “You treasure this place more than anyone. You and Melita have cared for Westgard for five years. If possible, I will visit. I’ll ensure my brothers look after you. You need not concern yourself over any finances, for I’ve more than enough.”

Satisfied he’d countered each of her possible arguments, Thereus grinned at Alkippe. “Maintain Westgard until Lucian is of age.”

Relief flooded her smile. “Oh, of course, milord.”

That task wouldn’t seem so daunting. His grin widened at his gratitude for her presence. If he had to desert his home, he trusted no one else with its care. After writing out detailed instructions, Thereus departed Westgard. His heart grew heavy with the notion of leaving, but one day he’d return.

Besides, he recalled what Melita had said to him once.

She was his home.

***

Another week had passed and no Persephone. Thereus grumbled. Was this to be a test of his patience? If so, he’d gladly admit failure and cease this bloody waiting.

Everyone in his lands likely concluded he’d gone mad. Only Alkippe and Lucian’s visits comforted him. Gods, how he missed Melita. Some days, he dared not close his eyes, for the second he did, she assaulted his senses. Her scent, her soft feminine body.

As much as his heart missed her, he was still a centaur. His cock continually reminded him of that. He needed her, in every way. Memories of claiming her haunted him. Too many times he awoke, sweaty and panting, in the middle of a dream where he’d been about to take her. His body was in agony, on fire for a lust he was unable to quench. Even if this plan of his failed, he’d never be able to claim another female.

Oreius had confided as much in him. The centaur had lived the past ten years in abstinence. A
decade
of celibacy? Thereus snorted. But then, his stomach coiled at the idea of being inside anyone else. It must drive Oreius mad; no wonder he was so surly. How could there be joy in one’s life when one’s sun was taken away?

Thereus shook himself. He’d rather live in eternal darkness with Melita than blissful sunlight without her. Huffing, he settled against her trunk. As he studied the clouds, a faint scent of lilac drifted toward him.

Persephone.
His gut clenched. What news would she bring? He scrambled to his feet and spun until he spotted her. This time, he bowed.

“Be at ease, warrior,” she whispered, sounding very weary.

Bloody hell to being at ease. His insides were about to become his outsides. He didn’t even dare raise his head toward her.

“I have found a solution.”

Exhaling hard, he peered up. No jesting. She spoke the truth.

“Tell me.”

“Know this, centaur. What you ask comes at a great price. And great peril. I guarantee you nothing, except that should you fail, eternal torment shall be yours.”

Delightful.
“Tell me.” He stood firm.

“When a nymph chooses this death, she travels to another realm. It’s not governed by any of the gods. That is why we cannot bring nymphs back. Moreover, we cannot venture there. It is their sanctuary.” Persephone stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on Thereus’s arm. “You must understand, Thereus, Melita is at peace. She is with her people, her mother. She has no memory of you, or Lucian. She suffers no pain, no sadness. She wants for nothing. If you do this, you will restore her to a world full of suffering and she will never again be able to venture to the sanctuary of her people. She will be forever separated from her kind.” She dropped her hand and took a step back.

Thereus shoved a hand through his hair. Persephone’s argument sounded logical. Deep in his gut, he sensed Melita wasn’t content. Was that truth, or did he simply wish to believe it so? Would he be able to let her go if he had proof she was truly at peace?

“There is more.” An ominous warning echoed in Persephone’s voice. “Should I open this Portal for you, I risk much. Gods are not permitted. The others on Olympus must never become aware of her existence. Especially not…” She paused, her eyes flashing a vibrant violet. “Apollo. I fear he may have been the viper poisoning Philaeus’s ear.”

Thereus swallowed the thickness of dread in his throat. Apollo, the sun god, sought
his
Melita? To fight against Hades’s army in the War? If the opposing army laid claim to Lapith fealty, the war between Lapiths and centaurs hadn’t been prevented, merely interrupted.

Had his Melita sacrificed herself for naught? True, she’d prevented one battle, but the War loomed. Determination flooded him. He must save her.

“If you do this,” Persephone folded her hands in front of her, “Melita must be hidden away. Only two places exist where she will be safe.”

He met her level stare. “The Underworld and Halcyon. The gods do not possess this knowledge, so how do you?”

Persephone paled. “My mother told me.”

He searched her face and the pain in her eyes made him wince as if someone punched him in the gut. What had she traded for the information? Gods knew, the only thing Demeter coveted was her daughter.

She pursed her lips. “A month.”

He bowed his head once more. Persephone and Hades had only three months of each year together. ’Twas rumored, they suffered immeasurably when they were apart. Persephone had surrendered another month with Hades for
him
.

In that moment, he decided her cause was one he’d die for. He’d repay her, somehow. Steeling his resolve, he lifted his face. “Halcyon. I’ll ensure no one learns of her. Your sacrifice will be honored. I swear my loyalty to you and to Hades. Tell me what I must do. I vow I won’t fail.”

“I’ll open a Portal to her realm, but as I cannot venture there, you must go alone.” Persephone studied him. Testing his conviction? “It will not be easy, warrior. Their realm is not like ours. She has no body. Her essence exists in a sea of others, thousands. You might wander for years. If you can locate her, you must convince her to return with you. If she refuses, you cannot force her. If she agrees, place her essence inside.” A small silver locket shimmered on her open palm.

“May the Fates smile upon you,” she whispered as she placed the locket around his neck.

“Thank you, great goddess.” He bowed his head. She cast him a nod of reassurance, laced with trepidation, before approaching the tree.

As she laid her hands on Melita, Thereus suppressed the urge to growl. He had to remind his horse Persephone was saving Melita. He must trust her.

She illuminated both herself and the tree. A small swirling Portal opened, seemingly into the tree. The Portal expanded, until it spread across the entire trunk.

He didn’t have to be told what to do. Thereus formed an image of Melita in his mind and leapt into the Portal.

***

The warmth was gone again. She grew restless. Each time the creature left her, the word
empty
became more unbearable. Did she care for the creature?
Ridiculous.
Her kind didn’t love.

The
others
were confused by her. They whispered of her peculiarity, of how she didn’t belong. She yearned to experience emotions, to recall her life.

They’d been wrong. In this realm, she found no peace. Time passed. Slowly. Sometimes the warmth was with her, sometimes it was gone. She ached when the creature was gone. The little warmth too. That one brought her much comfort. Perhaps joy as well, but she couldn’t be certain. None of the
others
knew the word.

The one called
Mother
stayed close, but her comfort was no match for the warmth of her companion.

Over time, the whispers grew louder. Louder and louder. One day, everything stopped. The voices were silent.

“Goddess.” They chanted the word.

This goddess had returned? Why? Another wave of silence. Followed by a blast of shock. She’d never witnessed the
others
in upheaval like this. What had caused them to be so quiet?