The Dark-Hunters (522 page)

Covering my head, I turned and left.

I waited for him to stop me. He didn’t.

And with every step I took, I cried harder for what I’d found this morning. My precious Acheron was gone and in his place was a man who wanted nothing to do with me.

The worst part was, I couldn’t even blame him for it. This was all so unfair. He should be in his royal apartments with servants at his beck and call.

Instead he was locked into a nightmare that neither of us could release him from. Surely this wouldn’t be his life. Surely Acheron was meant for more than this.

Yet how could I deny what I saw? He was right. People only wanted one thing from him. And unless Father was willing to protect him, Catera was better than nothing.

My little brother
was
a whore. It was time that I realized the truth.

AUGUST
23, 9528
BC

The day had dawned with the most wretched of meetings. I’d been told that my father and his senators had decided to try and placate the god Apollo with a human sacrifice.

Me.

Ever since war had broken out between Greece and Atlantis, the Greek kings had been trying to think of some way to stave it off. But the Apollites who ruled Atlantis hated us and were determined to make the whole of Greece nothing more than an Atlantean province.

Afraid of being slaves to the superior technology of the Atlanteans, the Greek city-states had been fighting with everything we had.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be enough. Apollo favored the Atlanteans and the Apollites he’d created who shared Atlantis with them. So much so that as long as they fought during the light of day, they were invincible.

The Greek kings were at their end. So the priests and oracles had gathered to see what, if anything, could return Apollo’s favor to the people who’d originally worshiped him.

“The god can only be distracted and tamed by the most beautiful of all princesses,” the oracle of Delphi had proclaimed to them all.

Some lunatic had then named me as said princess.

That man, I could kill.

“Father, please,” I begged, following in the wake of him and Styxx. They were headed toward the Senate room and had no time for me. Not that that was unusual.

“Enough, Ryssa,” he said sternly. “The decision is made. You are to be offered to Apollo. We need him on our side if we’re to win this war against the Atlanteans. So long as he continues to favor and aid them, we will never stand a chance. If you are his lover, he will look more kindly toward our people and might be swayed to our cause.”

It stuck in my craw that I was to be bartered and sold without so much as …

I stumbled as I thought of Acheron. I finally understood exactly how he felt. Understood what it was like to have no say in what was done to my body.

It was an awfully sick feeling. No wonder he’d thrown me out of his room. No doubt in my innocence I’d seemed quite sanctimonious about something I had no understanding of.

However, I wasn’t through with them. Determined, I followed Father and Styxx into the back corridor.

As we approached the main hall, the sound of a small group of senators conversing out in the atrium stopped me dead in my tracks.

“He looks just like Styxx.”

My father and Styxx paused as they heard them, too.

“What say you?” another voice asked.

“It’s true,” the first senator said. “They couldn’t look more alike had they been born twins. The only difference is their eye color.”

“His eyes are eerie,” a third senator interrupted. “You can tell he’s the son of some god, but he won’t say which one.”

“And he’s in a stew you say?”

“Yes,” the second man said. “I’m telling you, Krontes, you have to visit him. Pretending he’s Styxx has helped me immensely in dealing with the royal prick. Spend an hour with Acheron on his knees and the next time you see Styxx, you’ll have a whole new perspective.”

They laughed.

I felt the blood drain from my face as Father’s and Styxx’s turned red with fury.

“You should have been at our banquet last night,” the first man said. “We dressed him in royal robes and passed him around like a bitch in heat.”

I felt suddenly sick.

Father charged into the group, calling for his guards to arrest them for defaming Styxx in such a way.

Styxx defamed.

Hysterical laughter welled up inside me as I doubled over in pain. Zeus forbid Styxx ever be insulted. It didn’t matter that it was Acheron who was being degraded and made to serve them.

Acheron never mattered.

At least not to anyone but me.

JUNE
23, 9527
BC

It was dawn when I left the palace alone. It was a foolish quest I was about, but I couldn’t stop myself. Today Acheron turned nineteen.

In my heart I knew no one had ever given him a present for the anniversary of his birth. I wondered if he even knew the exact day when he’d come into this world. And I thought about the celebration I had planned that our father had ruined by returning him to Atlantis.

I clutched his gift under my himation as I walked through the abandoned streets to the stew I had gone to before.

I knocked on the back door and asked for Catera. After a brief wait, she appeared with a frown.

“My lady? Why are you here?”

I smiled gently at her. “I wanted to see Acheron again. Just for a few minutes.”

Sadness darkened her eyes. “I wish I could help you, my lady, but he’s no longer here.”

Cold dread seized my heart. “What? Where did he go?”

“I know not where he was taken.”

“Taken?” I whispered the word cautiously, hoping she didn’t mean what I thought she did.

Unfortunately, she did. “He was arrested several months ago. The king’s guards came in early one afternoon. They broke through the front door and demanded to be shown the royal imposter. Acheron was pulled from his bed while he still slept and bound into chains, then they dragged him out of here and I haven’t heard anything since.”

My fingers numb, I felt my gift fall to the floor as I stood there too stunned to move.

My father had taken him?

Of course he had. I should have realized that myself. No doubt he’d sent his men the same day he’d overheard the senators talking. What kind of fool was I not to check on that?

But then I’d been too busy thinking about my impending doom with Apollo. Shame on me for not putting Acheron first. There was no telling what they had done to him.

My only comfort was the knowledge that father couldn’t kill him. Not without killing Styxx too.

Catera picked up my wrapped present and handed it back to me.

I thanked her out of habit and left.

Acheron had to be somewhere in the palace. No matter what it took, I was going to find him and get him out.

JUNE
23, 9527
BC

It was midday before I finally found Acheron’s whereabouts. I knew better than to ask my father for his location—that would only invite his anger toward me, and tell me nothing I didn’t already know, so I resorted to bribing the palace guards.

Even that was easier said than done since most of them knew nothing at all and those who did were too afraid of my father’s wrath to speak of it.

But at last, I had the answer. My brother had been taken to the lowest part of the palace, beneath the foundation where they kept the worst sort of criminals: rapists, murderers, traitors …

And one young prince whose father hated him for no reason other than he’d been born.

I didn’t want to go down there where you could hear the cries and moans of the damned, where you could smell their rotting flesh and torture. It was only the knowledge that Acheron was there that made me find the courage I needed to visit.

I was quite sure that if he’d been given a choice he wouldn’t have been there either.

I walked down the twisting corridors, pulling my cloak ever closer to me for warmth. It was so damp and cold here. Dark. Unforgiving. Not even my torch could banish the dankness.

As I passed the cells, those who could see the light called out for my mercy. However it wasn’t my mercy they needed to be free. It was my father’s.

Unfortunately, he had none to spare.

The captain of the guards led me to a small door at the very end of the corridor, but he refused to open it. I could hear the sound of water dripping from inside, but nothing else. There was a fetid stench permeating the air and choking me. I had no idea what caused it. Truly this was a frightening place.

“Just hand over the key to me. I swear no one will ever know.”

The guard’s face paled. “I cannot, Your Highness. His Majesty made it clear that anyone who opens this door will be sentenced to death. I have children to feed.”

I understood his fear and had no doubt whatsoever that my father would indeed kill him for the affront. The gods knew, he’d killed men for far less. So I thanked him and waited for him to leave me alone before I knelt on the cold, damp floor and opened the small trapdoor that had been designed to pass food from the hallway into the cell.

“Acheron?” I called. “Are you in there?”

I lay flat on the filthy floor to peer through the small opening, but could see nothing. Not a single bit of flesh or clothing or light.

Finally, I heard something rustle ever so slightly.

“Ryssa?” His voice was weak and scratchy, but it filled me with joy.

He was alive.

I reached my hand through the opening as an offering to him. “It is I, akribos.”

I felt his hand take mine. It shook ever so slightly. His fingers were thin, skeletal, his grip gentle.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said in that raspy tone. “No one is allowed to speak to me.”

I closed my eyes at his words and drew a ragged breath. I wanted to ask him if he were well, but I knew better. How could he be all right living in a small cell like an animal?

I tightened my grip on his hand. “How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. There’s no way to judge day from night.”

“Have you no window?”

He laughed bitterly at that. “No, Ryssa. I have no window.”

I wanted to weep for him.

He released my hand. “You need to go, Princess. You don’t belong down here in this place.”

“Neither do you.” I tried to reach him, but felt nothing save the dirt floor. “Acheron?”

He didn’t answer.

“Acheron, please. I just need to hear the sound of your voice. I need to know that you’re all right.”

Silence answered me.

I lay there for a long time with my hand still in his cell, hoping he would retake it. He didn’t. While I waited, I kept talking to him even though he refused to speak to me. Not that I blamed him.

He had every right to be angry and sullen. I couldn’t imagine the horror of them dragging him through the streets to lock him in this place.

And for what?

Some imagined slight my father felt? Some need Styxx had to assuage
his
dignity? It disgusted me.

I didn’t leave until a servant brought his dinner. A bowl of thin soup and fetid water. I stared at it in horror.

Tonight Styxx would dine on his favorite foods and eat until he was full and content while nobles would gather to wish him well and dote upon his every whim. Father would heap presents upon him and shower him with love and good wishes.

And here Acheron would sit in a filthy cell. Alone. Hungry. In chains.

My eyes full of tears, I watched the servant close the door and leave us.

“Happy birthday, Acheron,” I breathed, knowing he couldn’t hear me.

OCTOBER
22, 9527
BC

For the last few months, I’d been preparing for my union with Apollo. During the morning hours before the palace began stirring with activity, I’d made it a point of visiting with Acheron at his cell. He seldom spoke, but every so often I would get a word or two out of him.

I cherished every one of them.

I only wished he’d participate more in our discussions. Sad to say that at times I was rather curt with him, even angry. I made such an effort, and risked much to see him and bring him tidbits of bread and sweets. The very least he could do was be semi-cordial to me.

But apparently, that was asking too much.

It was afternoon and I’d been meeting with Father, Styxx and the High Priest in Father’s study to discuss what I would have to wear for the ceremony that would bind me to Apollo.

Originally the council had wanted to offer me to the god completely naked. Luckily the priest had talked them out of it and now there was much debate over the right gown and jewelry.

As the scribe took notes, Styxx fell suddenly ill. Too weak to stand, he collapsed on the floor where he lay like a small child, trembling. Every heartbeat seemed to make him paler. Weaker.

Terrified, I watched as Father picked him up in his arms and carried him to his room. I followed them, scared of what might have possessed him. Though we fought much, I did in fact love my brother and the last thing I wanted was to see him hurt.

Father laid him on the bed and called for a physician. I moved forward, trying to help, but there was really nothing I could do. Styxx couldn’t even speak. He breathed as if his throat was parched and his lungs were damaged. He stared at me, his own eyes filled with terror at what was happening to him.

Praying for him, I took his hand into mine and held him the way I’d often done Acheron. It was rare for Styxx to tolerate my touch, which told me just how ill he was.

By the time the physicians arrived, Styxx had grown ghostly pale and gaunt.

I moved away so that they could examine him and while they worked, I watched fretfully.

“What is it?” my father asked, his voice fraught with concern.

The physicians appeared baffled. “I’ve never seen anything like it, Sire.”

“What?” I asked, my voice breaking.

The head physician sighed. “It’s as if he’s about to die from thirst and starvation though I know he’s never missed a single meal. From the looks of him, I doubt he’ll live out the day. It doesn’t make sense. How could a prince have these symptoms?”