Goddess (32 page)

Her arrival did not have the effect she expected. Instead of running away, the Myrmidons began to close in.

“The Tyrant,” they chanted in unison as they moved toward her like a congealing mass of hate. “Kill the Tyrant.”

“Not your best move, Princess,” Hector scolded. He pointed a frantic finger at Orion. “Get her off the battlefield!”

Before Helen could figure out why Hector was so bent out of shape, Orion threw her over his shoulder and started running to the tent. As she bounced uncomfortably against Orion’s back, she managed to prop herself up enough to see the entire phalanx of thirty-some Myrmidons zeroing in on her, and she figured it out.

The queen may be the most versatile piece on the chessboard, but if she gets taken out, the game doesn’t end. It’s only over when the king gets cornered that someone calls checkmate. Belatedly, Helen realized that she was the king in this game, not the queen.

As she thought this, Helen noticed someone running through the battlefield dressed in golden armor—
her
golden armor.

“Wait!” Helen screamed, reaching out for the girl in gold who was foolishly impersonating her. “That’s suicide!”

But the girl disappeared in the smoke, fog, and the surging throngs of fighters without pause.

As Scions from the House of Athens closed ranks behind Orion and faced the pursuing Myrmidons, Helen realized that the girl in gold could only be one person. Her mother.

Daphne waited until Jason had nearly knocked himself out to heal Claire, and Cassandra had gone to fetch him some food and water to revive him, before she brought the gold armor down off its rack. She donned it quickly and, wearing Helen’s face, charged into the battlefield.

She knew she’d never make it out alive, but she had never cared about her own life. Ajax was lost to her. Finally, after all these years, she’d accepted that. There was only one thing left to accomplish. One promise left that she had to keep.

All she had to do was get across the lines while the majority of Tantalus’s fighters were occupied with the battle. Then she would be close enough to kill him.

She’d traded her heart for this months ago—her heart for Hecate’s help in taking one man’s life. It didn’t matter what precautions Tantalus took. Hecate, the guardian of all crossroads and thresholds, had promised that she would open any door for Daphne.

As she ran across no-man’s-land, part of Daphne hoped that Helen believed that she was doing this to help her. An even bigger part of Daphne wished that it were true. But she knew better. She was doing this mainly for revenge. The fact that it helped Helen was just a bonus.

The Myrmidons were distracted, chasing the real Helen, who was thrown over Orion’s shoulder and being carried back behind the lines. Embarrassing, but Daphne knew her daughter’s removal from the battlefield was for the best. For all her awe-inspiring power, Helen was not a born fighter, and Daphne was glad that Orion had the good sense to get her out of the way.

Unlike her bighearted and easily bewildered daughter, Daphne had been in many battles and she knew how to use a sword. Ignoring the rapidly healing wounds in her thigh and shoulder, she cut down a few members of the Hundred Cousins where they stood and began clearing a path to the enemy line.

Daphne spun around in a circle to engage as many of them as she could to distract the enemy from Hector, Lucas, and Castor. None of Helen’s men were wearing armor and they needed to regroup. The only way for that to happen would be if Daphne could win the field and push the enemy back. As long as the Myrmidons were chasing the real Helen, Daphne might just have a chance to get across the lines and on to her real goal.

She killed three men and electrocuted another before her lightning caught Castor’s attention.

“Helen!” he shouted. Seeing Daphne surrounded by more and more soldiers, he began to charge to her rescue.

“Get back, Caz!” Daphne yelled, purposely using his old nickname. He was a smart man and quickly realized that the girl in the golden armor wasn’t Helen, even if she looked exactly like her.

Castor held out an arm to stop Lucas from flying to her and quickly explained things to his son. The two of them turned their attention back to fighting the Hundred Cousins, and Daphne killed the last of the men who had surrounded her.

Breaking across enemy lines, Daphne kicked a few hypnotized mortals out of her way. All the Scions and Myrmidons were on the battlefield, and the mortal reserves had yet to be deployed. Daphne didn’t want to use her sword on full mortals and sheathed it in favor of nonlethal hand-to-hand combat.

Even bare-handed, she tore through the reserves in seconds and headed for a cluster of big tents, calling out her challenge.

“Tantalus! Let’s decide this right now!” Daphne-as-Helen yelled. “One life instead of one thousand!” The crowd started whispering the word
Tyrant
all around Daphne. They were buying it. “Your life or mine. We’ll end this war before it starts.”

Tantalus flipped back the front flap of his tent and stepped out in full armor. Daphne dropped her face visor and wrung the pommel of her sword between her hands.

“But I have no lightning. I can’t summon earthquakes. I can’t fly,” Tantalus said, holding his hands out as he walked toward her, like he had nothing to hide.

“Sword against sword,” Daphne-as-Helen retorted. “No other talents allowed. Just your blade against mine.”

The crowd murmured their assent, except for one.

“Helen, don’t!” Ariadne yelled. Her father prevented her from running to Daphne’s side. “He’s too good.”

“No other talents and no tricks?” Tantalus asked Daphne uncertainly. He didn’t want to face her unless he was certain he could win.

“None,” Daphne said without pause, knowing she had already paid for this lie with her whole heart.

“Let Hecate decide,” Tantalus said, warming up to the idea of being the big hero by winning the war in one duel. “Offering!”

Pallas stepped forward and threw a handful of saffron into the air between Tantalus and Daphne. Orange fire erupted out of the sand to form an oval. Tantalus and Daphne stepped into the arena unhindered. Tantalus unsheathed his sword slowly and smiled at her.

“Pallas tells me you’re a
terrible
swordswoman,” he whispered with a cold smile.

Daphne let her own face show through for just a moment so Tantalus knew whom he was facing. When she saw recognition paralyze his expression, she quickly shifted back to Helen’s youthful version of the Face and smiled back at him.

“I think you’ll find me much improved,” she said.

The gods converged on the duel eagerly, each of them taking a prized position at the edge of the sealed arena. Tantalus turned around, about to protest that it was Daphne and not Helen he was fighting, but was met with a wall of orange fire. Seeing that it was impossible to back out now, Tantalus smiled sadly to himself and nodded at the sand.

“Every evil thing I ever did, I did because I love you,” Tantalus said just loud enough for Daphne to hear. “You, of all people, should understand that by now.”

“I do,” she replied quietly. “And I hate you for teaching it to me.”

He stood at one end of the oval, and Daphne at the other. By putting as much distance as possible between them, they had opted for a one-strike duel. This was not going to be a long fight, filled with fancy footwork and genteel fencing. Like medieval jousters or Wild West gunslingers, they were both going for the single, killing blow.

They broke into a run at the same time and charged each other. It was over in a moment.

Daphne ignored the hot sting that traced across her neck, and cut off Tantalus’s head with one strike. Just as he had done to Ajax. She saw Tantalus’s head roll past her and hit the barrier of orange fire, his dead eyes staring back at her.

It was finally finished. Daphne fell to her knees as she listened to his headless body fall to the ground in stages behind her. Silence followed—then a ringing in her ears. Daphne felt a familiar, seeping cold. Looking down, she saw blood pooling in the sand around her. She tried to inhale, and sucked in salty liquid instead of air, like breathing tears. Her body collapsed, and she toppled into the sand as her almost completely severed neck bled out in an instant.

One line from “the Scottish Play” ran through her head:
The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures.

Ajax used to love to draw her while she slept. He was such an amazing artist. . . .

Orion threw Helen down next to Jason, who was sleeping—or passed out—on the floor next to Claire. He was so angry Helen didn’t know if she should even try to get him to calm down. She decided to hazard an apology.

“Orion, I’m sor—” she began.

“Shush!” Orion said, holding up a hand to silence her. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself before starting again. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“That this is
my
fight, not yours. Not Lucas’s. Not Hector’s.
Mine
,” Helen said, standing up and facing Orion. “I was trying to fight for myself.”

“You realize that’s not how these things are done, don’t you? We choose champions for a reason—because if you die, we lose. I thought you understood that.”

“Yes, I do. Helen of Troy had no choice but to sit back and let other people fight for her, and we all know how well that worked out for Troy,” she said pointedly. Orion shut his mouth and turned to the armory.

“You’re really pissing me off, Helen,” he said, undoing his belt and yanking off his clothes, stripping down so he could get into his armor. Helen moved quickly to help him.

“I know I am,” she replied, pulling down Orion’s white breastplate. “Because I’m too chicken to do what I really have to do.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, holding out his arms for Helen to tie his breastplate at the sides. Cassandra appeared at Helen’s elbow, the bracelet Orion made her tinkling prettily. “Kitty, what are you still doing here?” Orion asked her impatiently as if he’d just noticed her presence.

“I—” she started.

“Go home to Noel and Kate. This place is too dangerous for you,” he scolded. Cassandra wavered, about to put down the gauntlets she carried, but Helen grabbed her hand and stopped her.

“Cassandra is here to be close to you so she doesn’t prophesy,” Helen reminded him. She fumbled with the ties on Orion’s armor for a moment and quickly threw up her hands. “And she’s here to dress you. I have no idea how these dratted things are put on.”

Helen backed off and let Cassandra do what she so obviously wanted to do. Touch Orion. He didn’t even look at her.

“So, keep going. I’m dying to hear what is it you’re ‘too chicken’ to do,” Orion said with a doubtful look, like he didn’t really believe Helen could be chicken about anything.

“Make myself immortal,” Helen replied, her voice breaking. “And not mostly immortal—not immortal except for one tiny clause where I can let myself off the hook in a jillion years if I get sick of it all—but really, honestly, till-the-stars-wink-out immortal so I can fight Zeus one-on-one. I don’t want to be immortal.” Helen felt tears sting the backs of her eyes. “I’m terrified of forever.”

Orion broke away from Cassandra like she wasn’t there and hugged Helen.

“Okay, yeah. That would terrify me, too,” Orion said, holding her gently so he didn’t crush her against his armor.

Helen opened her eyes as Orion held her and saw Cassandra staring at them, her blue eyes wide and glassy with hurt. Helen pulled away from Orion and put some distance between them. How could Orion be so insensitive to Cassandra?

Did he simply not like her? Helen knew that wasn’t true. He was genuinely fond of his “little Kitty”—he just didn’t see her as a woman. Yes, she was a bit young for him at the moment, but there was still something weird about how he couldn’t seem to
see
inside her the way he could with other people.
Like the Fates can’t see through him,
she thought. Aeneas was a son of Aphrodite, but he never suspected Cassandra of Troy loved him, either.

Helen realized that the Fates must hide Cassandra from Orion in much the same way that Nemesis hid Orion from the Fates.

“Why do you have to become immortal in the first place?” he asked, interrupting Helen’s train of thought and bringing her back to the more pressing situation.

“To make it my fight. Like it should have been right from the start,” Helen mumbled, rubbing the palms of her hands against her jeans nervously.

They heard noises outside the tent—the sound of their army returning. Helen heard Scions from the House of Rome saying, “He’s dead! Tantalus is dead! The gods have no champions left!”

But Helen knew the gods would not be beaten so easily. They would unleash every storm, every earthquake, and every tidal wave at their disposal before they allowed Helen to walk away with a win.

“Who killed him?” Orion shouted happily, striding to the entrance of the tent.

“My mother,” Helen answered behind him. She ran and grabbed him by the shoulders before he could join his men in celebration. “Orion. Don’t let Poseidon destroy this island. Fight his earthquakes, and fight the tidal waves. Are you strong enough to take him on like that?”

“I’ll try,” Orion said, his face blanching. “Is that where this war is going?”

“Yes,” Cassandra intoned. Helen shivered at the sound, like someone had poured ice water down her back.

Orion and Helen turned to look at the Oracle. The air around her flashed with color, and her body rebounded like she was being punched from the inside, but her face and voice remained her own as she fought the Fates.

“The Twelve immortals cannot meet mortals in open combat. Tyrant, they will unleash their darkest weapons to fight you until you meet Zeus in battle as an equal. Do not delay. One of you must go to Tartarus and complete the cycle.”

“We’ll see about that,” Helen said defiantly.

Cassandra’s frail body shook like she was being electrocuted. Her face shriveled and her eyes filmed over with cataracts as the most terrifying of the three Fates, Atropos—she who cuts off the thread of life—pushed her way through and possessed Cassandra.