Warrior Queen - Karpov Kinrade Page 0,40

the stones blocking the entrance.

The stones explode, creating a new path out, and as Clay falls, he sends another bolt straight at Homer.

Time slows. The bolt locks on Homer, now laid bare to Clay’s attack. The cyclops doesn’t move. I know he can’t see, just as I know his other finely-honed senses have informed him of his coming doom. He stands there, accepting his fate. His body relaxed. There’s no fear there.

I’m dimly aware of the monsters surging forward, swarming out of the opening towards freedom as Clay’s soldiers fall back. And my heart tears, half of it singing for the monsters escaping, heading for the river even as the other half dies a little the moment the bolt strikes Homer’s chest. It pierces through him, leaving a gaping hole that no living being could survive.

Homer falls.

Time pauses for a heartrending moment as I feel his loss, then it returns to normal, the sound and urgency and smells all crashing in on me. The soldiers are running. The monsters are fleeing.

There’s a flash of light on the enclosure wall, opposite of the entrance.

It’s Clay---holding the Portal Stone.

It’s glowing, and as I watch, a black hole appears.

The next instant, he’s gone, swallowed whole.

12

"From the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate." ~Socrates

“Clay’s gone to Earth. We’ve lost.” I choke. I look and see Homer’s body, face down on the ground. He’s most likely dead, but still, I have to find out. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t. I lunge forward, an overwhelming sense of failure dropping on me like a ton of bricks—shiny, huge, Greek-sized marble ones. I just want to crawl away in some hole and hide for a few centuries. If only I had done that to begin with, none of this would be happening now.

“Lily, wait.” Artemis pulls me back. “We haven’t lost yet. There’s another way to Earth.” She yanks me around and it takes a few seconds for her words to interrupt the inner dialog running in my brain. She nods when she sees she’s got my attention. “Yes, Lily. There’s another portal. That’s what Apollo meant. The message he sent. That I should take you there, to the fields we played in as children. Apollo sent you to me for a reason, Lily. He asked you to tell me the berries of Elysium were sweetest when we were children playing in their fields.”

“Yes,” I say. My head is pounding as I nod. “He told me to tell you so you’d trust me.”

“No, that isn’t what those words mean.” Artemis shakes her head. “There’s another way. It’s dangerous, but you can get back to Earth from the Gate of Sleep beyond Elysium, beyond the fields.”

The Gate of Sleep? On Earth, we were told that’s where all the souls wait to return to Earth. But there was on big caveat. “According to what I remember from the legends, you have to cross the River of Forgetfulness and forget everything to get there, don’t you?” I ask.

“That is correct.”

“Then, what good is that? I need to remember who I am so I can track down Clay. I need to remember Clay.”

Artemis leans closer and drops her voice, “There’s a bridge.”

Relief and excitement bubble up inside me, only to be washed away by an image of my monsters under attack… of Homer. “Homer,” I rasp, hooking my thumb over my shoulder. “I’ve got to get down there, first.”

She purses her lips grimly. “I understand, but there’s a faster way. Hades had secret passages all over this place. I know of one, it’s the next level down. Follow me.”

Ladron and I follow closely as Artemis drops down into the garden below and sprints to a vine-covered rock wall. She runs her palms over the leaves and after a moment, pulls the vines back to reveal a door.

Surprise lights Ladron’s eyes as he falls into step beside me and we follow Artemis down a tight, winding spiral staircase. Lower and lower we go until at least a dozen or more levels deep, we come up against a wall. Again, Artemis smooths her palms over the rock, and as before, she finds the door.

The rank smell of mold blasts my nostrils as we emerge into a narrow passageway.

“Hades’ dungeons,” Ladron says.

Around me, I see classic dungeon cells, complete with straw-strewn floors and studded with iron bars. To my left, there’s a figure huddled on the floor, an old man, and as he turns his gray head my way, I gasp. The