The Pandora Curse (Greek Myth Series Book 4) (7 page)

“I don’t know yet,” said Nikolai, pulling the string closed on his traveling bag. “But I will not be losing my only attribute as a demi-god because I have failed Hera’s task. I will do whatever it takes to collect all the vices and lock them inside Pandora’s chest.”

“All right. Let me ride in your pouch. I’m tired,” said Baruch. “I’ll make myself into something small.”

“No.” Nikolai shook his head. “I have a much better idea how to keep you out of trouble. And what I have in mind is nothing small.”

*  *  *

Vara’s day was not going as planned. The prisoners had caused an uproar, and she personally made her way down the dungeon stairs to survey the situation. She’d never imprisoned anyone before, although she had done her share of killing. Her gut twisted in agony, thinking of the horrible things she’d done to escape the restless turmoil of the Furies constantly invading her brain.

If only her great-grandmother, Pandora, had never opened the chest. Things would be different. She wasn’t sure what caused the Furies to switch from taunting those who had killed, to taunting those who hadn’t, and urging them to do so. One part of her was repulsed and ashamed of her past actions. Another part felt satisfied and powerful. She was more than one person, but living in one body. How much more of this could she endure before she went mad?

“Damn this curse,” she spat, trying to ignore the smell of the prisoners’ rancid cells, wanting to block her ears from the foul language the Corinthian soldiers shouted when they saw her.

“Let us out,” shouted one soldier, banging on the bars that blocked him into his confinement.

“Kill Vara,” cried another, which only caused them all to join in unison, shouting louder and louder, chanting their vengeful tune as if they were one.

“Kill Vara, kill Vara, kill Vara,” came their words of hatred, and she could not blame them. She had done horrible things, and a part of her felt as if she deserved all this.

“What shall we do?” asked Zetes, standing at her side. “Shall I have them flayed my lady?”

Vara watched the angry faces and blazing eyes of the prisoners as they waved their hands and threw their food through the bars. One man hit her with half a rotten potato. Startled, she backed up quickly, stumbling against the cold, stone wall.

“Give me the word and I’ll have that one hanged immediately,” Zetes told her, urging her to reprimand and make an example of the accused.

Do it, Vara.

Hang him, flay them all. Make them suffer.

They can’t treat you this way.

She shook her head, wanting to ignore the voices, cursing herself for not leaving sooner before the Furies thought to occupy her head. The chanting continued, and another piece of rotten food hit her in the chest. Anger grew within her, and a heat started at her toes and continued upward until it filled her entire body.

Kill their king and they’ll stop.

Take their leader from them
.

Her eyes shot to the back of a cell where one man sat in a heap, head down, not chanting with the rest. It was their king. He looked ill.

You must do it.

You are a conqueror. If you don’t, you will be weak.

Kill their king. Make an example, and they will stop their chanting
.

Vara’s head pounded, and she felt as if it were going to explode. She grabbed Zetes by the arm.

“Get me their king. I will make an example. They will stop once they see how powerful I am.”

“Yes, my lady,” he said with a nod. With the help of several other soldiers, they pulled the king from the cell. He wobbled, barely able to stand.

Use your sword.

Strike him down in front of his men
.

Listening to the ill advice, she pulled her sword from the scabbard on her back. She held it up, and beyond it she saw the eyes of the broken man, sick, and drained of any hope of ever coming out of this alive.

“You are such a pitiful king,” she said placing the tip of the sword at his throat.

He didn’t fight, didn’t flinch. He just stared at her with eyes that reminded her of his little daughter, Agatha. The vision scorched her memory, bringing about a time when she stared at her father’s killer that way.

“Go ahead, my lady,” said Zetes. “We will hold him steady.”

The prisoners shouted and cursed and threw their bodies against the bars of their cells. She pulled back her sword. The king’s focus never left her face. There was no honor in striking down a defenseless man, so weak and vulnerable. Only evil.

Vara felt her hand tremble. Zetes grabbed her by the wrist and lowered it to her side to save her from the embarrassment of not being able to complete the task.

“Perhaps we should take him into the courtyard instead where everyone can see him,” Zetes suggested.  “Have him whipped. Then bring him back here for his soldiers to see who is all powerful.”

The shouts from the prisoners, and the beating on the bars continued. So did the voices in Vara’s head.

You are powerful. You will show them.

Make an example of their king.

They will not talk against you again.

“Yes,” she said, placing her sword back in the scabbard. “Take him out to the courtyard.”

She blindly followed her men out into the bright sunshine, feeling as if she were in a daze. They tied ropes on each of the king’s arms and two of her men held them outward. Then another picked up a whip, looking to her for the final command.

“My lady?” A little voice at her side kept her from giving the command. There stood Agatha in fresh clothes, her hair combed and her face washed. She looked up to Vara with sad eyes. “That’s my father.”

“Agatha.” Vara’s attention wavered from the king to the little girl. What was she doing here? Horror filled Vara at the thought the little girl would witness such an event. Her eyes scanned the courtyard and there in the shadows stood Nikolai, watching. His eyes met hers, and suddenly she felt like she could no longer go through with this.

“Are you going to hurt my father?” came the girl’s innocent question. “Did he do something bad?”

Vara’s tongue felt weighted and there was no way she could answer this question. How could one tell a child of six that her father did nothing bad, yet he was about to be whipped?

“Queen Vara,” came Zetes’ voice through the shouts of the crowd. “Shall we proceed?”

Do it, Vara. You can’t stop now.

To show weakness in front of so many would be a downfall.

You need to maintain control. Do as is expected.

Flashes of Vara’s childhood passed before her eyes, and she felt as if she were this child, watching as her own father died before her eyes. A death he did not deserve. The curse. The awful curse. She needed to stop it before anyone else died. She needed to find a way to combat the evil vices that had turned her life into a living nightmare.

“No!” she shouted out before the Furies could tempt her further.

“My lady, what are you saying?” Zetes looked to her in question.

“Put him back in the dungeon quickly.”

“But . . . ”

“Do as I say.” She looked down to explain her curse to Agatha, but the girl was gone.

Zetes instructed the men to bring the king back to the dungeon, and the crowd remained unruly.

“Heed this warning,” she shouted for all to hear, “if this noise does not stop then the first to speak up will take the place of the king and be whipped instead.”

Instantly, the commotion of the crowd softened.

“Now get back to work in the kitchens and where you belong. I will not tolerate any more gossip or talk of rebellion. If I so much as hear a word, those involved will be killed instead of punished.”

“My queen, you need to carry out some sort of punishment,” Zetes hissed through clenched teeth.

Vara clutched one hand to her head. The pain of two warring worlds was draining her of strength.

“If you question my decisions once more, the only punishment to be carried out will be yours.” He opened his mouth to object, but one look from Vara, and he changed his mind. “You are dismissed, Zetes.”

“Aye, my lady,” he replied, and stormed off toward the dungeon.

The crowd dissipated immediately, and the noise in her head subsided as well. But the pain, oh, the pain of dealing with the Furies and her own conscience locked deep within. It was truly driving her mad. She closed her eyes and wavered, feeling the darkness of the combating forces within her taking its toll upon her physical body. Her legs weakened beneath her, and she felt her body falling. Strong arms caught her from behind, guiding her safely to a wooden bench beside the well.

“Nikolai?” She opened her eyes to find her suspicions were true. He helped her sit, and leaned her back against the wall of the castle directly behind the bench.

“Let me get you a drink of water.” From the well, he pulled the bucket up on the rope and used a ladle to scoop up water. He brought the ladle to her mouth.

She sipped at the cool liquid, liking the way it quenched the fires of anger that had been burning within her.

“I don’t know what happened.”

He looked to her with a stoic face, but did not touch her again.

“It’s the curse, Vara. Are you ready to let me help you yet?”

You don’t need help. You are a queen.

Don’t let the soothsayer make you weak.

You should be ashamed for not carrying out your threat.

You must gain back the respect you have lost.

No one will ever fear you or believe you again.

“I feel better now.” She pushed away the ladle and got to her feet. This time her legs didn’t feel so wobbly. “Prepare to leave for Athens at once. Get what you need and meet me in the courtyard immediately.”

*  *  *

Vara waited impatiently atop her horse for Nikolai. She’d been thankful he was there to assist her, but the Furies had convinced her not to show any weakness. She would just have to pretend that nothing happened that she had not planned.

Still, she could not push from her thoughts the fact he had refused to use his scrying abilities to tell her if she’d win the Athens games. It was a moment she was not used to having. No one had told her no to anything since she was a very small child. Even then, she’d always gotten whatever she wanted with a little conniving on her part. But Nikolai was different. While she wanted him to act on her word, she was almost glad when he defied her.

Defiance was refreshing when one had everything they wanted for so long. It put challenge back into her life - something she had not seen in a long, long time.

“My lady, shall I go see what is keeping the seer?” Zetes paced his horse back and forth. She knew he was annoyed with her actions in the courtyard. Zetes was a hardened warrior who would never back down once a decision had been made. She had only made herself look weak in the eyes of her soldiers. No man wanted to serve a woman who was flighty with her decisions, especially since she was known as a mighty conqueror. 

She had told Nikolai to be ready, but still they waited. Thankfully, she saw him across the courtyard and did not have to take action.

“Nay, Zetes. I think I see him approaching.”

Her entourage stood awaiting her orders. She had a group of nearly two dozen, including several huntsmen, the falconer, a few pages, and the kennelgroom. One falcon and three hounds were going along on the journey. She didn’t know exactly what the competitions in Athens involved, but she wanted to be prepared.

The men watched, and she could hear guffaws amongst them as Nikolai approached on a big, old, very slow horse. It was greenish white and looked sickly.

“Nikolai, you cannot ride that old nag,” she told him.

“This is the one I choose,” he said. “She will be fine.”

“You will never be able to keep up with the rest of us,” said Zetes. “I’ll send a man back to the stable to find you a faster horse.”

“Yes, seer,” said Vara. “I think a different horse is in order.”

“No,” Nikolai challenged her, riding to her side. “I will ride this one.”

“But - ” She started to protest, but Nikolai interrupted.

“I advise you, Conqueror, to let me ride this horse. It is the best for me. Now what do you say?”

He stared at her, and so did her men. The laughter stilled, waiting for her answer. Zetes watched unobtrusively, fidgeting with his saddle. She had the urge to haul Nikolai back to the stables at the end of her sword if need be, to get him to comply. But then she remembered the gentleness of his touch as he’d come to her aid in the courtyard. She didn’t know what she would have done if she had swooned in front of a crowd. She owed him gratitude.

“Yes, that horse will be fine.”

Nikolai nodded, but Zetes let out a grunt.

“Now let’s get moving,” she continued. The entourage started forward, and Nikolai’s horse trudged along behind them slowly. Vara stayed back until she was by Nikolai’s side.