“Why?”
“Styxx of Didymos was no friend to either of them. He was the blood brother to Princess Ryssa.”
Urian’s stomach slid to his feet at the news. “Apollo’s mistress?”
“The same. And he died the day she did. Some claim by the hand of Apollymi. Others say that it was Apollo who killed him. Either way, he was only well loved by his soldiers. The ones he conquered … they didn’t like him at all.”
That went without saying.
Still, he was curious about the legendary prince commander. “Did you ever see him?”
She shook her head. “I only knew him by reputation. But what Memnus said was true. He was beloved by his men and ruthless in battle. No one ever defeated him.”
Wow … Urian could admire that. And it made him very interested. Like his father, he respected anyone who could stand strong in battle. The more anyone could learn about strategy, the better.
But first, he had a birthday to finish celebrating.
Then he’d focus on infuriating his father and the goddess who protected them. He planned to irritate Apollymi until she agreed to free Xyn or she killed him for the effort of it.
July 24, 9513 BC
“I really hate that bastard.”
“Now, now Archie, don’t be hating just because he kicks your ass every time you step into the arena.”
Archimedes shoved at Davyn so hard, Davyn staggered back into Paris. Both of them burst out laughing. When Archie moved forward to strike his much smaller friend, Urian flashed in behind him to catch his hand.
He’d had it with his brother’s bullishness and attitude. Especially today.
“You want to hit someone, adelphos. Return to the field and pick up your sword. I’ll be more than happy to knock you down a few more times until your temper’s spent. But you’re never to lift a hand to Davyn.”
“Fuck you, Urian!” Archimedes, who’d just been defeated by Urian in a sword match, charged at him.
“Archimedes!” Their father’s furious shout quelled his anger instantly. “What are you doing?”
His face swelled up into a sullen pout. “You’re always yelling at me for my temper … why don’t you ever go at him”—he jerked his chin toward Urian—“for his arrogance?”
Their father cut a steel glare toward Urian, who arched a brow in response to it as if daring them both. “I would, if he were in the wrong. Now go cool your heels or else I’ll be the one you’ll face in the arena.”
That succeeded in calming down the massive brute who was second in size only to their father.
Even though Urian was practically a full-grown man due to his Apollite blood, he still lacked a few inches of being as tall as the two of them and doubted if he’d ever measure up completely. While his muscles were well-defined and honed, he tended toward a leaner, faster build than his father’s, Paris’s, and Archie’s bulkier builds.
As did Davyn.
The two of them were about half the girth of the rest of them. Still, they could hold their own. What they lacked in all-out brutish strength, they made up for in speed and dexterity.
Satisfied that Archie was done shoving Davyn around, Urian retrieved his shield from where he’d dropped it when he’d rushed to protect his friend.
“Halt!” The fury returned to his father’s voice and froze them all to the spot.
Urian didn’t move or breathe as his father came over and pulled his shield from his arm. But his brothers were all grateful they weren’t the ones under fire—wretched dogs. They broke apart and even had the nerve to smile in relief.
And too late Urian realized why he was the one blessed with this unwanted attention. His shield was emblazoned with a rendition of Styxx’s black phoenix rising, and encircled by a Greek key pattern with the words “I defend” written above the phoenix’s head.
Shit, I should have changed that emblem more … When he’d redesigned it, he’d thought he’d disguised it enough.
Major miscalculation there.
Just as his mother had predicted, his father’s eyes and nostrils flared with anger. “This is the emblem of the Stygian Omada. The army that belonged to Styxx of the House of Aricles!”
For the merest heartbeat, he considered lying. But he’d always been honest in all things, especially with his father.
Judge me for what I do, not for the lies you hear from my lips, for I will not lie or from those of another about me …
That had always been his motto. He wasn’t about to change it now.
“I know, Solren.” Urian had stopped calling Stryker Baba a long time ago. “Baba” was for children and “Solren” was what men called their fathers.
“He was an enemy to Atlantis. You know this, Urian. Why, in the name of the gods, would you choose to fight under such a banner?”
Because I’m an idiot. That seemed the only logical reason given the amount of fury his father showed over this.
But Urian knew that answer would get him backhanded, so he checked his sarcasm and went with the truth. “He was one of the greatest military commanders to ever grip a sword, Solren. One who was barely older than I am now when he won his first battle at Halicarnassus, and that was against the gods themselves. And he was an enemy of Apollo. Just like us.”
The more Urian read about the man, the more he admired him.
“And our akra hates him as much as, if not more than, any of those gods. If you value your life, pido, burn that shield and never say his name around her. Do you understand me?”
Oh … That was important information to have.
“Aye, Solren. I’ll—” Urian’s words broke off as someone screamed out.
They all turned to see a large, burly male covered in blood. His eyes wild, he was obviously out of his mind and seeking any victim he could find.
“Trelos!”
Urian cringed as the cry went up among their people. Cursing, his father shoved Theo aside, drew his sword, and headed immediately for the deranged man. Paris and Davyn did the same.
He picked up his shield and went to lend a hand with the others who were rushing to defend their people. The trelos Daimon began attacking any and every Apollite he could reach.
Man, woman, child, it didn’t matter. He went for them all.
And with every bite, there was always a risk he could prematurely turn one of their people into a Daimon like him—one who had to rely on human or Apollite souls to elongate their lives or else they would decay into dust.
Which was what had driven him insane. For that was the chance every Apollite took whenever they decided to thwart Apollo’s curse in the manner that Apollymi had taught them. It was the risk no one ever mentioned or talked about, except in hushed whispers or fearful tones whenever they thought the goddess or his father couldn’t hear them.
It was hard enough to make the decision to become a true predator who lived off the life force of other sentient beings. To consume their souls so that you could live one more day past your curse.
It was quite another once you realized that every soul you consumed came with the very real possibility that it could drive you insane and turn you into this crazy, mindless beast that might cause your friends and family to be forced to put you down, with extreme prejudice.
But his people had no choice. Once the trelos madness took hold, there was no way back.
Death was the only option, as a new soul only worsened the madness of the previous one. Urian felt terrible for the beast, but his feelings didn’t matter when it came down to it.
Trelos Daimons posed as much a risk to the Apollite population as they did to the humans. They were akin to a rabid animal that killed indiscriminately. Without mercy, compassion, or comprehension. Therefore, he had to put aside his own emotions and help destroy them.
“Where is that bitch!” the trelos screamed. “I want the throat of the goddess who turned us into this!”
Stunned and shocked, Urian drew up short as he heard lucid words. It was the first time a trelos had said anything remotely sensible while in this state.