Journey Into Nyx (9 page)

“In Akros I’m called Stranger,” the satyr said.

“King Stranger?” Elspeth asked.

The satyr looked surprised. “My own people call me that. I’m surprised it’s traveled so far into the human world.”

“What do you rule over as a king?” she asked.

“It’s just a little joke among my people,” he said. “It’s a misinterpretation of my given name.”

“I saw your
people
,” Elspeth said, referring to the satyrs at the Takis Estate. “They were absurdly violent in your name.”

“I have no control over the satyrs,” King Stranger told her. “I am king of nothing.”

“So why did you ask to see me?” Elspeth asked. She felt irritable. Her skin felt like it was too tight. She wanted the satyr to hurry up and speak his piece.

“As I was trying to tell you, Sarpedon told me about you,” King Stranger said. “He fell out of favor with Phenax shortly after you spoke to him. But he’s taken up with another god, a god who would like to claim you for himself.”

“I’m not interested,” Elspeth said.

“Because you are Heliod’s Champion?” the satyr asked.

Elspeth took a deep breath, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. “Why are you tormenting the king with the heads of the Nyxborn?”

“I am concerned with the fate of Akros,” the satyr said. “I was trying to warn Anax of the coming danger. And look, I was right.”

“Did you consider seeking an audience with the king and talking to him, rather than confusing him with cryptic nonsense?” Elspeth asked.

“I tried to seek an audience but was refused,” the satyr said. “I knew I needed to get the king’s attention. With all his oracles, they should have read the signs and given him
the correct information.”

“Your timing is unfortunate,” Elspeth said. “The Nyxborn are outside the walls. It’s a little late to warn him.”

“I am no oracle,” the satyr admitted. “I thought we had more time. But it wouldn’t have done me any good to knock on his door. Anax thinks satyrs are barely smarter than barn animals. But I do love Akros. It’s a testament to the majesty of the gods and doesn’t deserve to be pillaged by minotaurs.”

“You love Akros?” Elspeth asked.

“The Iroan Games, my dear,” the satyr said. “If you’ve never witnessed the spectacle of the games, then you cannot understand the joy this city brings my people.”

During her time in Akros, people had talked about the Iroan Games constantly. Everyone was welcome in the stadium during the competitions. It didn’t matter where they were born or what god they worshiped. Satyrs especially flocked to the city to witness the events.

“But I still don’t understand what you want from me,” Elspeth said. Her head felt as if it were stuffed with straw. She sensed there would be gaps of logic in his story, but she couldn’t focus on them. And what had Sarpedon told him about her?

“I can tell you how to win this battle against the minotaurs with no loss of life—at least on your side,” the satyr said.

“Why don’t you tell King Anax yourself?” Elspeth asked.

“Really, Sarpedon seemed to think you were smarter than that,” the satyr said with disappointment. “My previous attempts to communicate with Anax were misinterpreted. I am facing Akroan justice in a time of war. If I did try, no one would listen to me.”

“Why do you suppose they will listen to me?” Elspeth asked.

“Because you’re not going to tell them it was my idea,” the satyr said. “Remember, you’re a hero of renown. You killed Polukranos, single handedly.”

“That’s not true …” Elspeth protested

“If you offer your wisdom in this situation, they will listen,” the satyr said. “And Akros will be saved.”

“How could you end the siege without anyone dying?” Elspeth asked, curious in spite of the strange circumstances.

“You’ve come in the castle by way of the Deyda River Gorge, correct?” the satyr said. “The river is the most powerful river in all of Theros. The minotaurs have built themselves a nice little wall, but it’s open at both ends at the edge of the cliff above the water.”

“But the water is still hundreds of feet below the city,” Elspeth said.

“Have you no imagination?” the satyr asked. “With the right mages, you could raise the river, sweep the wall clean, and send the invaders tumbling into the abyss.”

Elspeth visualized what he was saying. Cymede had just demonstrated her incredible skills bringing them up the river by manipulating the rocks and water. A single mage might not be able to do it. But … she remembered Daxos’s playful splash on the banks of Hunter’s Crossing on the day they traveled to the Despair Lands. Daxos had divine skills that Elspeth didn’t understand. Together, two powerful mages might be able to accomplish such a feat.

“Raise the river and divert it through their fortification,” Elspeth said. The genius of his plan was dawning on her. “No one fights. No one inside the city ever has to raise a sword.”

“The minotaurs are merely swept away,” the satyr said. “They’re trapped by their own walls in a deluge from which there is no escape.”

“It’s quite clever,” Elspeth admitted. “Just tell the king. I can’t offer that idea as my own.”

“You must,” the satyr said. “If it comes from me, it’s automatically suspect. This is a horrible situation for me. I mishandled it from the beginning, and now I can do nothing but sit back and watch the city I love be destroyed.”

Elspeth felt overcome with sympathy for this small creature, who was simply trying to find a way to make up for what he had done. Something clanged in the hallway, and as she turned her head she missed the flash of red light in the satyr’s eyes.

“Will you go to the war council and present the idea to the king?” the satyr asked.

Elspeth hesitated. Her mind was brimming with questions, but with one exception, she couldn’t sort them into coherent sentences.

“Which god does Sarpedon pay allegiance to?” Elspeth asked. The words felt like pebbles on her tongue. “Whatever god it is, I hope he doesn’t expect anything of me.”

“Oh, he doesn’t,” the satyr assured her. “How about I arrange a meeting when this siege is over? I’m sure Sarpedon would like a chance to get reacquainted.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Elspeth said, moving to the door. “But please, give him my regards if you see him again.”

The satyr smiled and jutted his pointy chin at her. “Good luck with the council, Elspeth,” he said. Then he said something else. It sounded like “I’ll see you soon.” But the heavy door swung shut and blocked out his words.

When Elspeth joined the others at the Heroes’ Podium, Anax was describing the countryside around Akros to Anthousa and Cymede. An ethereal representation of the ridges and mountains hovered above a stone table with carvings of two outward-facing bulls on its base. At the far end of the room, a marble statue of Iroas overlooked the proceedings. Daxos stood in the shadows apart from the others, leaning against a pillar. His face brightened at the sight of her.

Elspeth joined him at the edge of the room. She still felt strange and disoriented. But her heart pounded with excitement about the satyr’s plan.

“Are you all right?” he asked. He brushed the hair away from her face. “You look feverish.”

“I will challenge the Rageblood to a fight
between the pillars
,” Anax said loudly from the center of the room.

“And what do you think that will accomplish?” Cymede asked. Her voice was deadly calm.

“The death of the Rageblood!” Anax shouted. “Are you questioning my ability to—”

“No!” Cymede retorted. “I’m questioning the minotaurs’ honor. They won’t respect the rules of the duel just because you do.”

“You could kill the Rageblood, and the others would continue fighting without him,” Anthousa agreed. “It wouldn’t mean the end of the war.”

“I have to act,” Anax said. “I can’t sit here like a mouse cowering in a hole.”

“When is the full Meletis Legion due to arrive?” Cymede asked, turning to look at Daxos.

“In two days’ time, at best,” Daxos said.

“And what about Setessa?” Anax asked Anthousa. “Will your people come as well?”

“The Setessan warriors are at least a day away,” Anthousa said. “But I warn you, our numbers are small. We’ve never supported a standing army. I hear the leonins are watching from the mountains. Have you approached them for aid?”

“They might join the minotaurs,” Anax said. “Savages with savages.”

“The Alamon is decimated,” Cymede said. “I heard it from witnesses in the camp. We can’t count on help from our wandering soldiers.”

“So you expect me to sit and wait for Meletis?” Anax said angrily. “I won’t sit idly by and let them toss plague-infested carcasses into our city. If we wait for the Meletian Army, we will all be dead from the plague.”

“And I won’t sit by and let you throw your life away to prove
you’re a man when no one has questioned it,” Cymede said.

Anax’s face turned purple, and Elspeth stepped forward. “There is another way …” she began. As she explained the plan to raise the river and sweep the invaders into the gorge, she spoke quickly and without hesitation. It almost felt like the words tumbling out of her mouth weren’t her own. Shy by nature, Elspeth didn’t like speaking to large crowds. But she spoke with rehearsed perfection, and when she stopped, everyone in the room stared at her. She saw the respect in Daxos’s eyes, and it made her feel worthless. But it was too late to go back and tell them that the idea had come from the satyr prisoner chained several floors beneath their feet.

“That’s brilliant,” Cymede said.

“It’s madness,” Anax said, but there was no fire in his voice. “You would have to have a mage of incredible power to manipulate the Deyda. Where could you possibly find one in time?”

“Well, you’re in luck,” the queen said brightly. “Daxos is revered by Heliod. His skills are unequaled in the all the world.”

Daxos frowned at her for her exaggeration.

“Can you raise the river by yourself?” the king asked. He looked at the young man with new interest.

“I’ll have help,” Daxos said. He glared at Cymede, who said nothing. Apparently, she wasn’t going to admit her own awe-inspiring ability to manipulate the elements.

“It’s fine as our killing blow,” Anthousa said. “But it’s not enough. We need a distraction. The minotaurs must be focused on something else until the spell is completed. Or else they might be warned and escape their fortification before the river reaches them.”

A war horn sounded from outside on the balcony. Anax rushed outside, and the rest followed. The beleaguered inhabitants of Akros were spilling into the streets. All eyes were on the heavens, and many people were cheering under the blazing light of Nyx. In the sky there was a brilliant
vision of Iroas, the God of Victory. The honorable god was challenging his twin brother, Mogis. The God of Slaughter charged headlong into battle. Just before they clashed, the astral light shifted into chaos again.

“Is the Silence over?” Anthousa asked.

Daxos shook his head. “No, Iroas had challenged Mogis
between the pillars
,” he said. “He’s furious that the minotaurs would dare to assault his city.”

Anax said. “It’s a sign that I must do the same.”

“Challenge Mogis
between the pillars
?” Cymede asked sarcastically.

“Challenge the Rageblood instead,” Anax said. “If I could challenge Mogis, I would. I would rather die at his hands than let these brutes hold my city hostage.”

Cymede opened her mouth to speak and then closed it. Anax turned to Daxos.

“You may pursue your course of action,” Anax said. “Raise the river. And I hope you succeed. But I have no choice. I must fight the Rageblood, man against monster.”

While Anax went to his armory to prepare for his duel, Elspeth accompanied Cymede and Daxos down into the tunnels below the Kolophon.

“You’ll work together?” Elspeth said. “Together you can raise the river?”

“That’s the plan,” Daxos said as Cymede jerked open the wooden door onto the sheer drop-off above the river. “Cymede could probably handle it all by herself.”

“Will you act as Anax’s second?” Cymede asked Elspeth. “If he falls in the duel, will you stand in for him?”