Styxx (DH #33) (44 page)

Still not sure he should believe that, Styxx returned the conversation to the previous topic. “So does the goddess now sit and wait for her Aricles?”

“Sadly, she has no cognizance of him at all. To keep her from mourning him, her father removed the memory of Aricles with her heart. She holds no knowledge of her previous existence and role.”

“How is that possible?”

“Her father had her reborn from Sorrow and she was told that she is a descendent of Bathymaas and that they share some powers. But until her hero returns, she will never know the truth. The world can’t afford for her to.”

Styxx scowled at the story. “How is it you know something your goddess doesn’t?”

“Because I was there when it happened and I was one of the creatures who helped bind her.”

Styxx stepped back as the priestess transformed into a tall, robust demon.

“How dare you defile the temple of Agriosa, Greek pig! You may have been born of the House of Aricles, but you are not he! You are nothing but a human dog, unfit to breathe Atlantean air.” The demon shoved him back. “And our goddess has a fierce bounty on your head that I intend to collect.”

Styxx barely had time to draw his sword before the demon attacked. The beast spit acid at him. Ducking, he stabbed the demon and twisted away.

It grabbed the back of his armor. Styxx felt his Apollo mark heat up before something blasted the demon against the garden wall. The demon fell into a heap on the ground. Laughing, it wiped at the blood on its face. “Careful of the gods who protect you, dog. One day, they will all turn on you and show you what vermin you truly are.” It vanished into a foul-smelling cloud.

Styxx scanned the garden, looking for other attackers as he backed his way out of the temple and returned to the street.

So, Agriosa had a bounty on him. Perfect, just perfect.

As for Apollo … Styxx was grateful the mark had protected him from the demon, but honestly, he’d have rather been gutted than go through the horrors of that one night. He still had panic attacks and flashbacks from it. And he had no doubt that Apollo would eventually turn on him. The god had turned on every lover he’d ever taken.

Just don’t let me die here. Alone.
Not in this godforsaken country that had never housed anything but utter misery for him and his brother.

If he had to die, he wanted to be like his esteemed ancestor and die in the arms of the woman he loved, with her beautiful hazel-gold eyes being what he carried with him into eternity.

But deep in his gut was the fear that it would be Apollo who killed him and that bastard’s cold gaze that was forever implanted in his mind.

August 8, 9530 BC

One year later

Styxx looked up from his map table as he heard a loud fanfare outside. What the…?

He knew his father wouldn’t deign to visit a war camp, especially not one on foreign soil. And definitely not after all this time. Curious, he went outside to investigate the ruckus then froze at the unexpected sight of his men gathered around his tent.

Were they revolting?

Other than their collective smell, which was highly offensive …

For that matter, he would rival the back end of his horse, too. There was no way to stay clean and fight a war.

Another cheer rose up from them.

“Happy Birthday, Prince Styxx!” they shouted in unison, and then cheered again.

His scowl deepened. “Thank you, but it’s not my birthday.”

“We know,” Gaius, a hipparchus who led one of his cavalry units, said as he stepped forward. “But we learned that it was weeks ago and you said nothing about it.”

Styxx swept his gaze over the men in his camp. “I’m not the only one here who has had an unremarked birthday come and go while we’ve been fighting.”

His men went down on one knee before him.

Completely nonplussed, he wasn’t sure how to react to their sudden genuflecting. In truth, it made him nervous.

Gaius rose and brought a folded, bright red cloak to him and placed it in his hands. “It’s not very much, Highness, but it’s all we could acquire without breaching your laws of conduct. We went in together to purchase it from the town we passed by yesterday.”

Aghast at their thoughtfulness, Styxx held it tenderly. “Thank you. All of you. It’s truly the noblest gift I’ve ever received and I shall treasure it as such.”

Gaius saluted him. “We know the sacrifices you have made on our behalf, Highness, as well as the fact that you pay us extra from your own officer’s salary and take almost nothing for yourself. Even though you’ve tried to hide it, we’ve seen you sell personal items to buy medicines and supplies for us when we needed them, and turn them down for yourself when they are in short supply so that the rest of us wouldn’t have to do without. Everything you do for us has been most duly noted and deeply appreciated. There is no prince or king who would have remained by our side throughout these last two years without heading home for a few days of comfort. It is why we respect and follow you.”

“That and the glory of the victories we’ve had,” one of the men shouted from the crowd.

Laughter rang out.

Overwhelmed by their kindness, Styxx swallowed. “May the gods continue to bless us with victory.”

“Gods bless us,” they repeated then they began chanting his name.

One by one, they came up to bow before him.

Humbled to the depth of his being, Styxx patiently stood and spoke with each member of his army.

Galen was the last to approach him. “Are you all right?”

“My shoulder is killing me,” he said under his breath while smiling at his departing men. “I could really use a chair.”

Laughing, Galen held the tent flap open for him. “Come and sit, Highness.”

Styxx obeyed and carefully placed his cloak on his desk. Stifling a groan, he sat down and sighed. Earlier in the day’s fighting he’d been kicked back into a broken wooden lance that had stabbed him through the armhole of his armor.

Next time Bethany gave him a token for protection, he’d make sure she included wooden objects.

And clumsiness.

“You told them my birthday had passed?” Styxx asked.

Galen shrugged. “I mentioned it in passing to Gaius three days ago. I had no idea they’d do this.”

Styxx felt tears prick his eyes over the unexpected gift that meant so much to him. But he wasn’t about to let Galen see him weeping like an old woman. “I hope you didn’t tell him my age.”

“I’m not a fool, Highness. While they know you are young, there’s no need in their learning just how green their esteemed victorious leader really is. It might send them screaming for home.”

It might indeed.

Ten-and-eight. Barely. And yet he felt ancient.

Changing the subject, Styxx took a drink of wine. “Have you heard from your Antigone?” They’d received a messenger earlier in the day, and it was rare for one not to have at least one missive or gift for Galen from his daughter.

Galen pulled a shell necklace out from under his cuirass then took a seat next to Styxx so that he could hand it to him. “She and my granddaughter sent this. They are all well and can’t wait to see my grizzled face again. What of your family?”

“All well,” Styxx guessed. Yet honestly, he didn’t know for sure. No one, not even his father, had contacted him. He assumed if Didymos had been invaded or something had befallen them, his family would have sent word.

But day after day, when messages came for him they were from other military commanders and kings, and had to do with the war, not with wishes for his health. Though to be honest, he liked to think that Bethany, in spite of her blindness, would have sent things to him had she known his real name. For all he knew, she’d tried numerous times.

At least that was he hoped and pretended.

Not wanting to contemplate his fear that she’d found another man in his absence, Styxx jerked his chin toward the table where his maps were spread out. “I was reviewing our progress. We should hit the mainland shore of Atlantis in four days.”

“I heard from the messenger earlier that the boats are being prepped. Our men are eager to dance in Apollymi’s hall on capital hill.”

Over the last months, they had conquered six of the outlying islands and held them until more Greek forces had been sent to occupy them while Styxx marched toward the Atlantean capital. He was the only one who’d had any kind of success against their stronger enemy. From what they heard through messengers, the rest of the Greek forces were being obliterated by their enemies at home.

But if Styxx and his army could make the Atlantean capital and breach the palace there, they would win this war in spite of the losses the other armies had taken. He couldn’t wait for it.

“Have you ever been to the Atlantean capital, Highness?”

Styxx tried not to think about the last time he’d seen his brother and the hurtful things they had both said to each other. “I have.”

“Is it as advanced as they say?”

Another thing he’d rather not have diverting his attention. “It is.”

Galen met his gaze over the map. “Do you really think we can win this, Highness?”

“Yes, I do.” And Styxx fully intended to ram his retribution down a number of aristocratic Atlantean throats.

Both for him and for Acheron.

August 10, 9530 BC

Bethany pulled back to watch the Stygian Omada break through another line of Atlantean defenses in spite of her people’s superlative abilities. While her brethren were winning the fight on Greek soil and annihilating their royal houses, Styxx was kicking the crap out of them at home.

How was it even possible? It was as if he could read their minds. Every tactic they used, he headed off with a skill that went far beyond his age. Over and over, he used maneuvers the likes of which none of them had seen before. Somehow he’d shorn up every weakness of Greek warfare her people had always relied on to ensure victory.

The bastard was invincible.

And over the last few battles, as she’d watched him overcome incredible odds and emerge victorious when he should have been put in his grave, she’d had a realization about his true identity.

It was the only thing that made sense.

How ironic really. The very child Archon had torn their kingdom apart to find had come marching home with a Greek army in his wake.…

Styxx of Didymos was Apollymi’s hidden son. She’d stake her life on it.

Wheeling her horse about, Bethany flew away from the battle where Styxx was busy driving the Atlanteans back, and went into the realm that her great-grandfather had ruled until the other gods had joined forces to make it Apollymi’s prison.

At least until Apostolos was dead.

Dark and dismal, Kalosis was not anyone’s idea of a vacation destination. Unless they were truly into terrifying death motifs. Ironically, this was where Bethany had spent most of her childhood, and one of her favorite places.

Which said much about her personality.

Bethany ignored the Charonte demons who watched her suspiciously as she made her way to the dark palace in the center of the hell realm. Barely dressed, the Charonte were a dangerous demonic race whose skin was made up of swirling colors—usually only two, but occasionally more. They had wings that matched the color of their horns and their eyes were always creepy.

“Where is Apollymi?” she asked the blue male demon closest to her.

“In the back courtyard,” he said in their unique singsongy accent.

She headed down the dark, reflecting hallway with curtains that billowed from a sourceless wind.

Bethany pushed open the large glass doors that let out onto a courtyard with high black marble walls.

Apollymi sat in front of the fountain that ran backwards up the wall. Dressed in a flowing black gown, the goddess of destruction was as breathtaking as she was lethal. Her long, white hair was braided down her back and her swirling silver eyes saw much more than others.

Archon was right to fear her. She was without mercy or compassion.

“Why are you here?” Apollymi snarled.

“I have learned the most coveted secret of all time and wanted your help in dealing with it.”

Apollymi smirked. “What is this secret you’ve found?”

“Your son is leading an army into our capital.”

Apollymi’s smirk turned into an arched brow and an innocent expression. “My son?”

“Prince Styxx of Didymos. He’s Apostolos, isn’t he?”

Apollymi laughed out loud then turned back to her pond. “Nice try. Wrong, but I give you points for creativity.”

Bethany didn’t believe her for a second. “I know it’s him.”

“Then why haven’t you betrayed me to the others?”

“Because lately I’ve come to understand … your sacrifice.”

This time, Apollymi’s laughter was cruel. “Are you seriously telling me that the goddess of misery and wrath is in love? You really expect me to believe that of you?”

“Why not? If the goddess of utter destruction can love … why not me?”

“Oh, Bet … you are naive and foolish. And if you were truly in love, we would all know it.” Apollymi ran her hand through the black water. “My son will return home soon, but he won’t need a foreign army to destroy this pantheon. Now go and leave me before I remember how much I hate all of you.”

“Fine, I’ll go. But I wanted you to know that the gods have gathered together, and they will kill Styxx the moment he steps foot on the main shore. In unison.”

“Doesn’t concern me in the least.”

Bethany wasn’t so sure about that. While Apollymi seemed to be telling the truth, there had been a slight flare in her eyes when Bethany had first mentioned Styxx’s name.

The prince did mean
something
to the goddess. But if he wasn’t her son, what was he to her?

August 11, 9530 BC

The Atlantean gods sat together in their white marble hall as they discussed the advancing Greek army that none of their people had been able to quell or turn back.

“How?” Archon growled at the gods standing in front of his dais. “We are better armed. Higher tech. Our soldiers have psychic abilities, and yet this puny, putrid human and his army are able to outmaneuver us and kick our collective asses. For the love of
us,
can someone tell me how?”