House of the Rising Son (2 page)

“And unfortunately, they got crossed up and have been going at each other's throats for almost a year now.”

The goddess nodded. “There is no one who can protect their peoples while they war, and certain groups are taking advantage of their lax attention to prey on innocents. That is why I'm assembling a team that can temporarily take over their protection duties until the Chthonians come to their senses.”

Aricles narrowed his eyes as he understood why they were here. “You want me to fight for you?”

“Yes.”

Aricles laughed at the very idea. “No, thank you. I'm not a soldier. I'm a farmer.”

Malphas snorted. “Then why were you in an arena fight two days ago?”

“I wasn't. You saw my brother.”

“That was your brother?” Malphas asked suspiciously.

“Yes. Galenus. I am Aricles.”

Malphas looked even more confused. “But you're the one who fought off the demons just now.”

He shrugged. “Galen and I learned and practiced together. But he's the one who loves the xiphos, not me.”

Malphas smiled at the goddess. “I think we found our last two.”

Aricles shook his head. “No, you haven't.”

Malphas stepped forward, but the goddess stopped him.

“Go find this Galenus and ask him to join us. I want to speak to Aricles alone.”

“Yes, my goddess.” Malphas vanished without question.

Aricles left the stream and dried himself with the towel he'd left on the bank. “If you think you can change my mind, my lady … you can't. I want nothing to do with war.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Diafonia, Apollymi, Symfora…” He named all the warring goddesses of the Atlantean pantheon. “None of it matters to me.”

“I am Bathymaas, the embodiment of all justice. My role in this world is simple—to maintain the balance between right and wrong. To hold it sacred and make sure that neither side squashes the other. I'm sure you can respect that.”

“I can.”

“Then fight for me.”

Shaking his head, he started past her.

She placed a gentle hand on his arm to stop him. “Please, Aricles. The gods have given you an amazing gift and skill. Who better to wield a xiphos for me than a man who takes no love or glory of war? Unlike others, you won't fight for the sake of it, but for the right reasons.”

He wanted to say no to her. But as he looked into those green-tinged, golden eyes and felt the warmth of her hand on his flesh, he lost himself to her wiles. The saddest part? She wasn't even using them on him.

And still he wanted to bury his face against her hair and inhale the sweet scent of her. He'd never been so drawn to any woman. Not even Claudia.

She's not a woman.

No, she was a goddess.

And he was nothing more than a simple, backwoods farmer.

“So what say you, good Aricles? Will you represent your people and be a champion for me for the good of all?”

He wanted to say no. Desperately. But his heart locked down his common sense as a desire to make the goddess smile answered for him. “Who am I to fight the will of the gods?”

“Aricles! You'll never guess what…” Galen's words faded as he broke through the trees to see Bathymaas with him. He arched a curious brow.

Bathymaas turned toward Galen, but didn't react physically. “You're twins.”

Aricles gave her a wry grin. “Since birth.”

Malphas laughed, but Bathymaas's expression didn't change at all. “You'll have to forgive the goddess. She doesn't understand humor, or any emotion, for that matter.”

Those words shocked him. “Truly?”

Bathymaas nodded. “Now, if you'll collect your things, we will take you to your new home.”

Galen let out a jubilant shout while Aricles cringed. His father wouldn't be happy with this, he knew it, and when they returned to the small stone cottage where they'd been born, he was proven right.

“I won't have it!” their father snarled while they packed their meager belongings. “I need at least one of you here.”

“Father,” Galen breathed. “You don't understand what an honor this is. We were hand-selected by the goddess herself. We have to honor the gods and their will, is that not what you've always taught us?”

Their father turned tormented blue eyes to Aricles, imploring him to stay.

“I can keep Galen safe so long as I'm with him. I'll make sure he comes home to you in one piece.”

His father cradled the back of Aricles's head in his hand and pulled him into his embrace. “My sons are all I have in this world. I could not bear to live if I lost one of you.”

“We will be careful. Even if I have to hogtie Galen.”

His father kissed each of his cheeks then moved to do the same with his brother. “I always knew I'd lose you to Misos, but I'd hoped to have more years with you before you left for war. A score of years just isn't enough. Take care of your brother, Galen. Let no harm befall him or you.”

“I will,
Papsi.
” His eyes gleaming with joy and eagerness, Galen grabbed his sword and pack, and headed for the door.

Aricles sighed as he swept his gaze around the room he'd shared with Galen and Perseus, who was off with his Julia. At ten-and-six, his baby brother was as much a slave to his heart as Galen was to his libido. He hated that he wouldn't have a chance to say good-bye to him. “Tell Perseus I will miss him and to not dawdle with his lessons.”

His father smiled. “Take care,
m'gios.
”

“And you,
Papsi.
” Aricles hugged him one last time before he followed Galen to where the goddess and her servant waited for them.

“You look like you haven't had a bowel movement in a month,” Malphas said as soon as he saw him.

Scowling, Aricles wasn't sure what to make of the man who would be their trainer and commander.

Galen snorted. “He always looks that way. He was born constipated.” His brother reached for him. “Come, Ari, be young for once in your life.”

“I tried your recklessness once and found it exhausting. Melancholy suits me just fine.”

Malphas laughed. “So where's
your
xiphos?”

“I don't have one.”

“He always uses a piece of wood to spar with me.”

Grunting his displeasure, Malphas inclined his head to his goddess. “I guess we're ready.”

One moment they were out in the woods, and in the next, they were inside a temple the likes of which Aricles had never seen. Made of solid gold, it glistened all around him. Bright-colored images and geometric designs were painted all over the gold.

“Where are we?” he asked.

The goddess folded her hands in front of her. “Thebes, in Egypt. This is my main temple. My father's is next door.”

“Your father?”

“Set.”

Aricles's eyes widened. While he knew few gods outside of his native Atlantean pantheon, Set was one everyone knew. Said to be the most ferocious god in existence, the god of chaos even terrified his own family. “I didn't think he could have children.”

“I wasn't born to him. I was created for him.”

“I don't understand.”

Malphas snorted. “After Set had a little emotional breakdown that cost several gods their body parts and lives, the primal Source decided that they needed to give him something else to focus on and make him happy.” He gestured to Bathymaas. “What better than a beautiful, emotionless daughter to watch over?”

Galen flashed a grin to Aricles. “What better, indeed?”

Malphas passed a look of warning to Galen. “Put it back in your loincloth, punkin'. Our goddess is a virgin and is to remain so. She wouldn't even know what to do with a kiss so don't try for one unless you want to meet the bad end of my sword and her father's fury.”

Galen grimaced. “Pity, and noted.”

Malphas led them to a room where four other men were lounging about. “Welcome to the Ēperon. We have two warriors from each mortal race.” He jerked his chin to the two men who were dicing. One was a mountainous beast who made a mockery of the brothers' six-foot-six stature. For that matter, one of his beefy arms was easily the same diameter as Bathymaas's waist. He wore his long golden-blond hair braided down his back. The other was well muscled, too, and probably stood two to three inches taller than the brothers. His white-blond hair was cropped short and he had a full beard. “Representing the Apollite race we have Haides.” He was the larger of the two. “And Hector.”

They exchanged pleasantries as Malphas indicated the man on his bed, who was reading a scroll. He had black hair and eyes and a full shaggy beard that was the same length as his hair. “Our humans are the philosophical Monokles, and,” he gestured to the one who was sharpening his sword, “Phelix.” He had bright red hair that fell just past his ears.

Malphas clapped Galen on his shoulder. “Warriors, meet our Atlanteans. Galen and Aricles.”

Haides narrowed his eyes on them. “How do we tell them apart?”

Galen grinned. “I'm the one who's actually alive and likes to partake of fun activities. Aricles seldom smiles and will most likely be discussing philosophy with Monokles.”

Aricles kept his features blank. “And I'll be the one spanking Galen's ass during training.”

Hector laughed wholeheartedly. “I like them already.” He indicated a vacant chair to his right. “Stow your gear and join us.”

Aricles took Galen's things. “Go on. I'll take care of it.”

As always, Galen didn't hesitate to accept his offer.

While he went to game, Aricles looked at Malphas. “Which beds are ours?”

“The two under the window. Your training will begin an hour after dawn. Have a good night and remember, no bloodshed in the goddess's temple. Save it for the battlefield.” Malphas left them to get acquainted.

Aricles went to put their personal effects in the chest between their beds. Listening to his brother jest with his two new friends, he pulled out his small knife and the piece of wood he'd started carving four days ago. It was a vague feminine figure. He hadn't seen the carving's face clearly.

Until today.

He'd started it as an offering for one of the goddesses of his homeland, but now … Bathymaas would be perfect for it. Seeing her regal grace in the wood, he began reworking the piece.

After a few minutes, Monokles came over to watch him. “You make that look easy. How long have you been a carver?”

“Since the summer I first stayed with my grandfather in Ena. It was something he would do every night, after chores were finished. I was four or five, and he'd hold me in his lap and patiently instruct me.”

“I never knew my grandfathers. One was a Greek hero who died in battle when my father was a boy, and the other was a cavalry officer who perished at war while my mother carried me. What of yours? Was he a retired officer?”

Aricles shook his head. “He was a simple farmer, as his father was before him. By nature, Atlanteans are peaceful … with the peculiar exception of my brother, who was corrupted in his youth by a friend who told him too many Greek tales.”

Monokles went rigid. “Is that a swipe at me?”

“Not at all, good Monokles. You have every right to be very proud of your soldier family. As I am of mine who toiled their farms. My insult was directed to my twin, solely. He thinks the rest of his family members are backwoods rubes because we would rather till the soil than make war with our neighbors.”

Those words seemed to puzzle him. “Yet you're here. Why?”

Aricles shrugged. “Our place is not to question the will of the gods. But rather to do our best to honor them, our ancestors, and ourselves.”

Monokles scowled. “How old
are
you?”

“Twenty, and you?”

“A decade older, and yet you speak like a sage ancient.”

Galen snorted. “That's because my brother was born an old man. He came from our mother's womb spouting wisdom, and with more patience than any mortal man should ever possess. He should have been a priest.”

“Is that true?” Monokles asked. “Would you have preferred priesthood?”

“Probably, but at the time to take vows, I had other obligations.” He'd been in love with Claudia and had planned on marrying her. To pay her father's bridal price, he'd been working three jobs in addition to his home chores.

But a farmer was the last thing she'd wanted to be tied to.

Now, it was too late to become a priest.

Perhaps it was bitter irony that he'd ended up in the service of a goddess, after all.

*   *   *

“
What are you
doing?”

Bathymaas looked up from her sfora at Malphas's question. The small orange ball allowed her to spy on their recruits. “I wanted to make sure that our two newest additions didn't meet with resistance from the others.”

“Are they mixing well?”

“They seem to be.” She studied Aricles as he continued to masterfully whittle while his brother diced with the others. “Do you think we made a mistake forcing Aricles to leave his farm?”

Caleb gaped at her question. “Is that doubt I hear?”

“I don't know,” she answered honestly. “Mortal feelings are beyond me. But I know how complicated sensory beings are. I don't want him to be in pain because of our decision.”

Caleb arched a brow at that. In all the centuries he'd served his goddess, he'd never heard her question a decision before. Stunning, really.

Nor had she ever cared about someone's feelings. He wasn't sure what to make of that. Or what it was about Aricles that would cause her to doubt her decisions now.

Weird.

“Sentient beings adjust … in time.”

She met his gaze. “You've never adjusted to being without Lilliana.”