City of gods - Hellenica (18 page)

Gunnar looked around and saw Rowan floating on his back. The Norseman tried to stand up but couldn’t; his leg was too badly damaged. Instead of yelling in pain though, he laughed, then swam to shore and propped himself against a rock.

“You’ve beaten me, Redstone,” said Rowan. “Perhaps you’ve earned the right for us to use you, though they’ll probably just want you dead. Spartans can be controlled, but a god like yourself …”

“You have five seconds to tell me what’s happening,” said Gunnar, “or I’ll rip off your head until the green blood—”

“Pours from my veins, I got it the first time,” said Rowan. “You can fight, War, but your rhetorical skills need sharpening.”

Gunnar had enough and lunged towards Rowan to end him. Rowan’s eyes flashed green and he put up his hands in a gesture of supplication.

“Easy, Horseman; I’ll tell you everything you need to know about what we are,” said Rowan. “Better yet,
I’ll show you.
”

Rowan smiled and motioned behind Gunnar. Gunnar peered behind him and saw twenty strange-looking legged snakes behind him. They were quite agile but wriggling about blindly; Gunnar looked closer and found that they were all closing their eyes. Gunnar heard the
crack
of Rowan’s leg and then immediately felt the Norseman’s arms behind him. Gunnar lunged backwards into Rowan and pushed them both into the water. They went down with a splash and Rowan’s leg floated uselessly upwards beside them. Rowan wriggled from underneath Gunnar, rose on his good knee and gave Gunnar a punch to his face. It was almost as strong as the punch of Heracles had been and left Gunnar in a daze. Rowan limped backwards and started to pull up Gunnar’s left pant leg, exposing his calf.

“Don’t fight them,” said Rowan. “If they open their eyes, you’re a dead man. You’re probably still a dead man, but we’ll take a chance.”

Gunnar felt the creatures come over him and then felt a pinch as one of them pressed its jaws into his leg. He felt another bite, and then knew no more.

KROSS

Tommy had visited Gunnar in the infirmary and was now informing Saoirse and Kayana back in their quarters.

“He’s in stable condition,” said Tommy, “but he can’t breathe unassisted. The doctors don’t know what’s happening; he just collapsed.”

“He didn’t just
collapse
,” said Kayana. “He’s the god of war. What did he look like?”

“Here,” said Tommy. “See for yourself.”

Tommy rested his forearm on a table and pressed a button to light up the wall in front of them with several photos he’d secretly taken of Gunnar. Saoirse turned off the lights and soon Kayana was inspecting them closely.

“Right there,” said Kayana.

Tommy zoomed in on the photo she selected and saw that Gunnar’s leg had swollen up slightly. He zoomed in more and saw two bite marks on his calf.

“These are just like the bites on your neck, Alderon,” said Kayana. “But Gunnar isn’t immune like you, so now he depends on a machine to breathe.”

“What are they?” asked Saoirse.

“I don’t know,” said Kayana, “but whoever bit him is smart. Biting a leg in a swamp hides your intent. What did you feel when you visited him, Alderon?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I don’t
sense
things like you both do. But I asked the doctors. There was no trace of poison in his system, and there was no trace of poisonous creatures in Manitou’s swamp.”

Kross whined at Saoirse’s feet.

What’s happening?
he asked her in their language.
Tell me.

I’m sorry,
said Saoirse,
but I know less than you.

“We’ll do our own investigation,” said Saoirse.

“Good,” said Kayana.

“Kayana,” said Tommy, “will Gunnar die? Is it his time?”

“It’s not his time,” said Kayana. “But these creatures have sent an assassin nonetheless; this should not be, but it is. And if we fail to make it right, Gunnar
will
die.”

“He’s a god,” said Tommy.

“Everyone dies,” said Kayana. “Even gods.”

/***/

Saoirse visited Gunnar in the infirmary with Kross by her side. Gunnar’s leg had stopped swelling, but his entire body had turned pale, with blue-green veins criss-crossing his skin. His great height and musculature were still imposing but he seemed useless now, like a great ship in a junkyard. She felt his forehead; it was cool. She then put her hands on his massive upper body and it was cold too, and covered with sweat. When she’d seen him last he was powerful enough to break a god in half, but he was now naked and helpless, covered with a thin blanket and lying prostrate on a gurney. His face was covered with an oxygen mask, and it was connected to an electronic machine that breathed for him. The machine compressed air, and Gunnar’s massive chest would rise in response. Saoirse knew that if the power went out in the Academy, or if someone were to remove his mask, Gunnar wouldn’t survive.

“I know not what’s happening Gunnar,” she whispered into his ear. “We’re gods, yet we can fall lifeless with a strange creature’s bite. We live in a school that protects us, yet has us face death at every turn. We live in a city filled with corrupt gods, and no one questions why we’re here, and to what end we’re headed. This world has many contradictions, but no answers.”

She looked around the room at Gunnar’s things; nothing was there save for his lacrosse stick and a pile of armor in the corner.

“Your gambit worked,” she whispered into his ear. “Horus took the ball from Alkippe and snuck across the goal line. They fought for another hour before Horus came back and announced the victory. It was another hour before they found you. Rowan and Alkippe are to fight in the gladiatorial arena tomorrow even though Rowan’s leg is broken.”

If only you’d lost, Gunnar. You’d have ended up in the gladiatorial arena, but you wouldn’t be here
, she thought.
You can handle pit-fighting. It’s assassins in swamps that are too much for you.

Saoirse looked at Gunnar’s armor; it was thin and lightweight but incredibly sturdy.
It’s the adamantine they were developing downstairs,
she thought,
the strongest armor on Earth.
She looked at his leg and saw the faint edges of a bite mark, now healed over. She put her head against his cold, naked body and breathed in.

Gods of war are killed by assassins,
she thought,
and assassins use poison.

She looked at his blue-green veins; they had turned greener since she’d arrived. Saoirse thought for a moment and then went to his armor. She found a small knife hidden in his shoulder mount and took it over to him. She pricked a vein on his leg and green blood came out onto the blade’s edge. She used her shirt to blot Gunnar’s wound, and soon it scabbed over.

Smell this,
said Saoirse to Kross, holding out the bloodied knife.

What is it?
asked Kross.

Friend is sick because of poison here,
said Saoirse in Kross’s odd language.

Here?
asked Kross.

Here,
said Saoirse.

Saoirse let that sink in for a bit. Kross seemed to understand everything, but still had an animal’s sense of intuition; he couldn’t take the next logical step on his own. She would have to take that step for him.

Creature poisoned him,
said Saoirse.

Creature?
asked Kross.

Yes,
said Saoirse.
Creature smells like poison here.

Creature smells like poison,
said Kross.

Find creature that smells like poison,
said Saoirse.

I find
, said Kross.

Be scared of creature,
said Saoirse.
Creature has poison. Creature can poison you.

I find,
said Kross.
I find.

Kross snuck into the shadows and disappeared out of the room. Saoirse marveled at the hyaena; Kross could be powerful but was as agile as a housecat when he wanted to be.
And he fears nothing,
thought Saoirse,
not even poisonous creatures that can kill a god with a bite.

Left alone with Gunnar, she put her hand on his forehead and it was still cold. He started to sweat, and then his body jerked in spasm. She took a cool washcloth and set it on his forehead, but it was no use; he continued to seize. He moaned twice and then relaxed after a minute, still breathing heavily.

Saoirse sensed that he was in a great deal of pain and tried to hold him, but couldn’t quite do it; he was so large it was like embracing a rock. She wrapped her arms around him as much as she could and pressed her ears to his chest. His heart was racing.
He’s fighting a war within his body and mind, and this means he’s in pain,
thought Saoirse.
But it also means he’s still very much alive.

/***/

Saoirse spent the next day pretending everything was normal. Kross had disappeared, but her classes revolved around rhetoric, so fortunately her animal wasn’t required. The Muse Calliope had come in to teach them how to speak like a god when addressing regular humans. Though Saoirse was disinterested, Calliope brought the class into an auditorium filled with Spartans and started the lesson.

“I’ve instructed these Spartans to jeer,” said Calliope, “and I assure you any constituents you’ll face will be much worse. They may be under the auspice of Dagon, Lugh or any number of other gods, and there is nothing a human respects less than a god not his own.”

Though Calliope was admonishing them, her beauty enraptured both the class and the spartan audience. The Muse’s dark hair was wrapped in a loose bun, revealing a fleshy neck with flawless skin. Her voice was like spun silk, and every word she spoke sounded like part of a poem.

Saoirse had three young gods in her Nature Class: Sobek, the Egyptian crocodile god; Pan, the cloven-hooved faun; and Nanook, a northern tracker of polar bears. Sobek had the long, snouted face of a crocodile, and the body to match. Though he stood upright, his skin was thick and scaly, and it looked as if he was wearing armor of cured green leather. Nanook the hunter was the size of a polar bear himself, and thick white hair covered a calm, quiet face. Though he was built like a barrel, his feet were nimble and he barely made a sound when he walked. Pan had the legs of a goat and horns peeked out from his thick brown hair. His face was boyish and cute though, and its softness reminded Saoirse of Tommy.

“A god’s power is given; you’re born with the ability to fly, control elements, talk to animals, or whatever it is you can do,” said Calliope. “But real power, the power of humanity, is
alienated
to you. They follow you because they
choose
to, not because you force them. You may be able to set a forest ablaze or breathe deep beneath the ocean, but when you’re in front of the masses you have only the power of
persuasion
.

“Persuasion can build a nation or turn a people against their god. It’s more powerful than any ability you have, but it’s not so easy to master. There’s no fundamental rule of oration that will work on any crowd, or turn any individual to your side. It is up to you to figure out what works best in any situation, and your first task is to develop your own style.

“Your task in this first exercise is simple: get the jeering Spartans to be quiet for thirty seconds. I’ve given you each a card with what I think to be your strength, and it’s up to you to use it to make them quiet. It may work, it may not; only you will know your own style of persuasion.”

Calliope snapped her fingers and the Spartans started to yell at the stage, booing, heckling and throwing whatever they could. She sent out Pan first; he was the most comfortable in situations like this. His strength was
merriment
, so he gave them a song and dance and the crowd started clapping along. He performed several magic tricks and the crowd became silent; when Calliope bid him off stage the Spartans wanted him back, and they started booing again and would not stop.

Nanook was sent out, and though the jeering Spartans mocked his size, he soon charmed the audience with a tale of hunting. He left the stage and once again the Spartans wanted him back and began to boo even more.

Calliope brought on Sobek the crocodile god, whose word was
anger
. His raspy, angry voice captivated the audience; though he was younger than Saoirse he lent an air of authority, like everyone was
in trouble.
The Spartans responded well to it, and soon Saoirse was up.

She opened her envelope and read her card. Her strength, according to Calliope, was
virtue
. She went on stage and heard the Spartans begin their jeers, but had no idea what to do.
Virtue?
She thought,
how can virtue tame a crowd?
She was at a loss and wanted to disappear; the men’s jeers were increasing in volume, and soon she started to hear personal attacks upon her. One man said he had visited her on Elysia, and the others began to laugh. Though she knew it not to be true it hurt her deeply; she wanted to cry but swallowed her tears.
If nothing else,
thought Saoirse,
Elysia taught me to swallow tears and behave in front of men.

Saoirse took a deep breath and chose the only option she felt remained.

“I’m leaving,” she said. “You may stop jeering now.”

She left the stage with dignity, shut the door behind her, and left for the mess hall.

/***/

She ate lunch alone, still thinking of Gunnar and the creature that poisoned him. The ambrosia still tasted of ashes to her, but she ate everything on her plate slowly and deliberately. The ambrosia soon began its work, and the sting of the morning’s class soon faded away. She looked up to see a man, a Spartan, standing in front of her.

“May I sit?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, “but I warn you I’m about to leave …”

“I won’t be long,” he said.

He sat down in front of her. He was handsome, young and blond but had a mature look to him. He spoke with a slight Sumerian accent and had a necklace with an odd tablet around his neck.

“My name is Cassander,” he said.

“I’ve heard of you,” said Saoirse. “You picked Kayana up and brought her here. She speaks well of you and likes you.”

“Her kind is incapable of
liking
anyone,” said Cassander with a smile, “but it’s good to hear that she speaks well of me.”

“She’s capable of more than you know,” said Saoirse. “And yes, she
likes
you.”

“Good,” he said. “Speaking of unknown capabilities, that was some number you pulled in the auditorium today.”

“I apologize,” she responded, “I wasn’t prepared to tame an army of—”