Two more arrows landed in his back and three in her body. She didn’t react at all.
His soul screamed out in agony that she was dead.
Furious and aching, he shouted and pulled her closer so that he could shield her. It made no sense and he knew that. She was already gone. Yet he didn’t want her hurt any worse than she already was. His Sheba was a vain woman. She would never want her beauty scarred, even in death.
I failed her.
Worse, he’d failed her people.
At least I got my children to safety. He could die in peace knowing they were safe. Thank the gods he’d let them go when he had.
And his brothers.
He heard the humans running toward them. Stabbing and slicing as they came. Beheading any body that was lying on the ground to make sure they were all dead.
“Over there! Get those!”
Urian reached for his dagger, but his numb fingers were too weak to grasp the hilt.
He felt the human grab his hair and lift his head to cut his throat. And there was nothing he could do to stop them. Nothing. He was too weak and numb to even protest.
Suddenly, a light flashed in the hallway, blinding them. With it came a loud, fierce shriek that cut through the stone like thunder. It broke loose pieces of their masonry, bringing down sections of the wall.
The humans ran for cover as a huge red dragon burst through the portal.
Urian fell forward into a pool of his own blood as he felt his father stepping past him to let loose a blast of dragon’s breath upon them. Their enemies ran, screaming. More Daimons rushed through the portal to pursue them while his father transformed into his human body so that he could rush to Urian’s side.
“What have you done, pido?”
Urian blinked up at his father. “I failed her, Baba. I failed you.”
A single tear fell down his father’s cheek. “Nay, child. You stay with me and you haven’t failed me. You hear that? You’ll only fail me if you die.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Trates! Get Bethsheba and bring her body to Kalosis.” Then he picked Urian up and cradled him in his arms the way he’d done when Urian was a boy and he used to fall asleep in his father’s lap while he told him stories of the world before they’d been banished from daylight.
Urian hated how much it comforted him to be coddled again. He was a grown man. Far too old for something like this. And yet … he wanted his father.
More than that, he wanted his mother. For the pain in his heart was so great that he feared it would make it explode. In truth, he wished he were dead. That would be easier than living with the guilt of what had happened tonight.
Knowing that he’d stood right there when Sheba had died and done nothing to protect her. Nothing to stop them from harming her. Why hadn’t he seen or heard the arrow in time to stop it? Why?
Dear gods … how would he ever get that sight of her death out of his mind?
How?
Urian didn’t realize he was sobbing until his father had him back in Kalosis and they entered his father’s palace where Paris and Davyn were waiting.
“Holy Apollymi, what happened?”
His father didn’t answer Paris’s question. “I need you to go to Apollymi and tell her Urian’s near death. Beg her for assistance. Davyn, help me ready a bed for him.”
He rushed to assist them.
Without a word, Paris did as he was ordered.
By the time they reached the bedroom, Urian was barely conscious. But he was still awake enough to know that this wasn’t over. “How will I live with this, Solren?”
“The way we all live with tragedy and injustice, m’gios. One breath at a time until the day comes when you wake up and realize that the sick lump in your stomach has finally dissolved.”
Urian winced at those words, which left him no comfort. “How long will that take?”
His father paused. “I don’t know, Uri. I’ve been choking on mine since the hour I was born.”
June 28, 9506 BC
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Urian swallowed hard at his father’s words. “She’s my wife, Solren. I owe her this honor.”
Yet as he moved forward to light the pyre where Sheba’s washed and shrouded body had been placed and her eyes covered with coins, he stumbled. Paris and his father caught him.
Grateful, Urian didn’t argue as they assisted him toward the tall structure that Apollymi had used her powers to build in the center courtyard, where the damned had once been tortured under the iron fist of the Atlantean god Misos.
And perhaps they still were. He certainly felt like it tonight as he climbed up to do his final duty for Sheba. For he was emotionally wrecked. Physically weak. Gutted.
Too young to be this tired and defeated.
Tears filled his eyes as he saw the beautiful corpse of a once proud queen. Dressed in her white orichalcum armor, she appeared to be at peace finally.
Dressed in white to honor and mourn her, Urian kissed the mavyllo—Apollymi’s sacred black rose—and placed it in Sheba’s hands, which held her sword. “You were ever a great and mighty warrior. A beautiful lady and an inspiration to us all. I shall miss your company every day I live without it.”
With those words spoken, he climbed down. Then he and Paris and his wife’s two remaining bodyguards shot lit arrows up to set fire to her perch. Silent tears of guilt and anger fell as he watched the hungry flames take root and spread over the structure.
His father clapped him on the back and pulled him close. “We shall avenge her.”
How? Rumors claimed it was Helios behind the attack. Yet another god out to end them. Which made sense given the armor he’d seen on their attackers.
The only question was why? Sheba and her people had stayed out of Greek territory for the most part. There’d been no reason for a Greek god to strike against the Marzanni.
It made no sense.
Through his own pain, Urian heard his children crying. Pulling away from his father, he went to Geras and knelt by his side. The boy threw himself into Urian’s arms so that he could weep there. Urian closed his eyes and held him.
“It’s all right, Geramou.”
“What if they’d killed you, Baba!”
He kissed the boy’s cheek. “Your baba doesn’t go down easy. It’ll take more than a Greek god to bring me low.”
Nephele didn’t speak. She merely fisted her hands in his hair and held on to him as if afraid to let go.
“Goodness, child. Why do you tremble so?”
Still not a single sound from her.
Worried about her, Urian let go of Geras so that he could stand and pull her closer. “Neph?”
Her lips quivered, but she kept them pressed tightly together as she wound her fists in his cloak. Urian held her by his side, assuming she was merely upset like her brother over the fact that he’d been badly injured and that they’d barely escaped the raid.
No one else spoke until after the fire began to burn low. And not until after the pyre had collapsed. Only then did Apollymi’s Charonte come in to finish the ceremony where Sheba’s remains would be gathered and taken to Apollymi’s sacred garden to be scattered in her orchard.
The same garden and orchard where Xyn lived.
He still hadn’t seen her and he was hurt that she hadn’t come for this. In truth, he’d expected her in the crowd. She’d always shown before whenever he needed her.
Never had she failed him.
Until today.
But as he lost count of how many came up to him to share their condolences, she wasn’t among them. And it hurt so badly that it was almost unfathomable. Indeed, he felt gutted. And the faces of the others and their words were lost to his own grief as he mumbled what he hoped was an appropriate response.
He remembered nothing really. Just the smell of pungent ash that stung his throat and burned his eyes. The hollow ache in his gut. And the deep stinging pain of a friend who couldn’t be bothered to put aside their spiteful words to check on him.
“Come on, m’gios. You should rest.”
This time, Urian didn’t protest when his father took him home.