Chương 123: Líthi

Kalliope stepped out of the shadow. The room smelled of garlic, rue, and moly. Krateros probably figured she would come for him and had arranged for the herbs in order to weaken her curses should he be correct. Krateros turned from the window, hand already moving to the sword on the table beside him. He stopped when he saw her, forcing himself to appear calm.

"I've been expecting you." His voice wavered slightly.

"I'm sure you have." She remained still, watching his eyes dart to the various hanging and smoking plants.

"How did you get past my guards?"

"One of them had a dream." A flash of fear appeared in his eyes, but he quickly regained his composure.

"Hm. Polymetis next?" She gave a single shake of her head.

"Already dead, then." He paused.

"So you considered her the bigger threat."

"I don't consider either of you a threat." His jaw clenched.

"Did she fight well? Did she die with honor?" Kalliope said nothing.

"I won't go down without a fight," he said.

"You will go down. There will be no fight."

"You think I haven't prepared for you?" He gestured at the assorted herbs placed around the room. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Your curses won't work on me. And for the record, I don't believe you killed that Lakedaimonian army by yourself."

"It does not matter what you believe."

"Then you won't mind if I activate some wards." She dipped her head slightly.

"Go ahead." He pushed his thumb into the sharp point on the amulet hanging from his neck. A glowing white circle formed around him and he smiled nervously.

"The Voice of Ruin herself. Let's see if you're as dangerous as they—""[Líthi]," Kalliope whispered. The softly spoken word appeared to be everywhere and nowhere at once, echoing off the walls. Krateros grinned.

"I told you your curses wouldn't—" A drop of blood fell from his nose onto the floor. Kalliope regarded him coolly. She didn't say anything, she simply watched as the nervous triumph on his face slowly turned into confusion. He touched his upper lip, then stared at the red smear on his trembling hand, eyes widening.

"But," he said.

"I had… How?" More drops of blood splattered onto the ground. He shuddered once and blood started dripping from his ears as well.

"I don't… Why am I?"

"Take solace that no one has lasted as long as you have," Kalliope said.

"You have lived up to your name. Now embrace oblivion with honor and tell Moros to prepare his hells, for when day breaks Megara will burn." Krateros tried to speak, but only blood came out. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor. After a final, wet gurgle the light in his eyes dimmed. Kalliope stepped over his body without a glance. She moved to the window he'd been watching, looking out over Megara's darkened streets. It would be a shame if all of this were destroyed because of one man's lust for power.

But if it had to be so, so it would be. She grabbed the moly from the windowsill and studied the milk-white flower with its black root. Supposedly they only grew from the blood of giants. People used them to protect themselves against poison and magic. They were especially potent against curses. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. She tossed the flower onto Krateros' corpse. It would take more than a flower to stop her magic.

Briefly, she considered taking his amulet, but decided against it. She closed her eyes for a moment. Good. Then she stepped back into the shadows and vanished.

The tent materialized around Kalliope. Sister Oneire was still asleep in the chair. Kalliope put her hand on her shoulder and gently shook her awake.

"Is it done?" Oneire asked. Kalliope gave a single nod.

"You may leave." Oneire rose, bowed, then exited the tent. Kalliope walked behind her desk and sat down.

"Enter." Nephele and Cilissa walked into the tent together. The women stopped in front of her. Cilissa gave a small bow.

"You have news of Hecate?" Kalliope asked. Nephele inclined her head.

"I do. No one has claimed the bounty yet, but we still have not been able to locate her. Rumors about her have been appearing all over Silesia. People claim to have seen her all over. It is like she is everywhere at once." She hesitated.

"The story of how she slew the demon has spread. It grows grander and more… elaborate with each retelling. One of the accounts claimed that she beat it to death with its own arm while holding a baby in another." Kalliope's eyebrows rose.

"Some of the Silesians think her a saint now. They believe she came to Silesia to protect them. We… It makes it harder to track her down. The more the story spreads the more people claim to have seen her. We believe most of them to be false sightings, but it is possible that we may never find her now." She never fails to surprise me. Kalliope leaned back and was unable to suppress a small laugh.

"Saint Hecate. Who would have thought?"

"She has caused the Church of Stvora a significant amount of trouble," Nephele continued.

"While they still control most of the country, there are whispers that the poorer Silesians are slowly turning against them. They feel that Hecate represents their interests better. We believe that the Church will increase their efforts to… eliminate Hecate as a response." Kalliope waved her off.

"They have not known true adversity in a long time. They have spent centuries pruning every branch that grew too tall, and now they wonder why their forest is nothing but shrubs." She leaned forward.

"That is the price of total suppression, Nephele. When you keep everyone weak to ensure your own safety, you lose the only whetstone that matters. You cannot sharpen a blade on a sponge. If there are no strong enemies to fight, there will be no strong men to defend you. The Church has forgotten that a blade only stays sharp if it's hitting something harder than itself." Nephele's mouth fell open.

"This is why you allowed her to be sent to Silesia." A smile tugged on the corner of Kalliope's lips.

"Now Hecate is the sword, and they are the whetstone." Nephele and Cilissa glanced at each other, a shared realization passing between them. The High Priestess hadn't just sold her daughter to save their Order, she had unleashed a wolf in a fold of sheep. Kalliope turned her gaze to Cilissa.

"You have something else to report?" Cilissa took a step forward.

"Menon is no more."

"Ah. Excellent. How was it done?"

"You asked for undignified. I gave him the flux. Or at least, that is how it will appear when they discover him. I have also poisoned some of the rations to give some of the men a mild variation of the flux as to not arouse suspicion." Kalliope raised an eyebrow.

"Menon? He died of the flux? But he was strong." Cilissa gave a faint, but proud smile.

"I have upgraded my skill. His resistances were easily overcome. He died, choking in his own excrement, face down in the waste trenches. And because there are others with the flux he will appear to have been the weakest of them all, as he was the only one to succumb to it." Kalliope slowly nodded.

"Very impressive, Cilissa. When I asked for undignified… You have surpassed my every expectation. I cannot think of a more shameful death. You have proven yourself today. For this, I believe a promotion to priestess is in order." Cilissa quickly glanced back at Nephele, who nodded proudly at her.

"Thank you, High Priestess," Cilissa said.

"Thank you," Kalliope replied.

"You have done well. Let us hope that as a priestess you may guide others to be more like you." Cilissa bowed low. The validation of the High Priestess was worth more than gold. By exceeding expectations she had not just raised her status within the Order, she had become a true instrument of Mēnē. The Goddess was known to be generous to those who rose through the ranks, to those who dealt in silence in her name.

"Go now," Kalliope said.

"The Archon will be here shortly. He will want to know Polymetis and Krateros can no longer threaten him on the battlefield, so that he may play the fool once more, leading the charge in front of the phalanx instead of the right side like a true leader. I believe Menekrates thinks this will grant him the favor of the gods." When in reality it will most likely grant him the disdain of his men. Or it should. What kind of moron would risk his life in front of the shield wall?

Still, Menekrates emerged victorious every battle and his power only grew. Perhaps he was no fool after all. Ensuring the only two people who could possibly hope to defeat him were no longer alive to threaten him ensured that he could play demi-god in front of thousands of men. And men were easily impressed. If they saw Menekrates fearlessly walking in front of the ranks, engaging an entire army by himself they might actually start to believe him one. It doesn't matter. Maybe it's better they do.

All the more satisfying to watch him fall.