Ambrosia

  Ambrosia

  By Aaron Lee Yeager

  Acknowledgments

  Many people ask me what is the secret to success. Mainly they ask that because they don’t really know me all that well. And so, I always take the opportunity to give a true answer to a faulty question based on an irrational presumption. (Go ahead and graph that one out if you have to.) And the answer I give is that the secret to every good thing in my life is simple: I married a good woman. So, this is to you, Ruth. I also have a great daughter, Shannon, and she did NOT tell me to add that in just now. It was totally spontaneous. So, this is to you too, Shannon.

  Disclaimer: This book is a work of fiction. Any centaurs are fictitious. Any resemblance to real centaurs living or dead is entirely coincidental. No centaurs were harmed in the making of this book. A satyr got stepped on, and a harpy vanished, but that’s it.

  Ben and his awesome beard get special mention. He helped me with every stage of this book, and waited patiently over a period of about ten years between when we first came up with the idea, and I actually got around to writing it. He totally deserves credit for his awesome input.

  I want to thank everyone who helped me work on this book. Except for Shane. That guy is a jerk.

  Dedicated to Stephen

  Prologue

  (423 years ago)

  “I want you to remove the color purple from the sunset.”

  The request was so bizarre that even the mighty god Sirend went slack-jawed for a moment. “You want…I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  The court recorder grabbed the scroll floating before him and wound it back. “She said, ‘I want you to remove the color purple from the sunset.’”

  “Yeah, I heard her, I just…couldn’t believe it.”

  The goddess Reinala folded her arms. “You got sea water in your ears?”

  Sirend adjusted the brooch on his toga and straightened himself. “If it pleases the court, I would like to request the recorder read that back a second time.”

  The court recorder cleared his throat. “She said…”

  “Just what are you getting at?” Reinala demanded, her green hair flowing back behind her like a great cape of leaves and vines.

  A wry smile crossed Sirend’s face. “For posterity. I wouldn’t want any of your followers claiming later on that you would never say such a ludicrous thing.”

  Her amber eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare negate me, you glowing clodflapper.”

  Sirend sniffed mirthfully and stepped closer to the glowing partition that separated them. “You do realize that’s not actually a word?” He turned to the crowd of gods gathered along the shoreline, his glowing blue skin rippling like the waters of the sea. “Her behavior is irrational and erratic. You can all see it for yourselves. And this is her public face mind you, the one she puts on for court. Just imagine how she acts at home, behind closed doors.”

  “Objection!”

  “Withdrawn.”

  Sirend clasped his hands at the small of his back. “If it please the court, I suggest the members be dismissed so that we can move to an immediate Article XVI session.”

  Reinala’s jaw fell open. “You wish to have me declared incompetent?”

  “Working with a court-appointed guardian would certainly speed up the divorce proceedings.”

  “The only mistake I ever made was marrying you, you beef-witted maniac!”

  The reaction among the court was decidedly bifurcated. The gods that sided with her were terse and silent, while those that sided with him raised their voices in derision. Krasi, god of the vineyard, misread the situation entirely, throwing up his glowing goblet in salute, then rolling back drunkenly in his lounger, the golden contents dribbling down his great round belly as he gulped loudly.

  Reinala ground her teeth, the buds in her hair blossoming into thorny crimson flowers. “I am not crazy, my demand is perfectly reasonable.”

  In the distance, the mountains began to tremble. Human villagers began scrambling out of their huts to see what was happening.

  “Reasonable? This coming from the person who cut our temple in half?”

  “What’s fair is fair. Half of it is mine.”

  “You claimed the half with the entrance, how were my worshippers supposed to get inside?”

  “Oh, like you have any real worshippers. What you have are just a buncha’ dizzy-eyed fish freaks.”

  Several of the gods had a good laugh at that one.

  Sirend inhaled deeply, and the waters of the ocean behind him rippled. “We both know this isn’t about being fair, this is about ruttish revenge for your imagined slights.”

  “Imagined? You launched my wedding dress into the sun!”

  “I created it. It was legally mine to uncreate it in any way I saw fit.”

  Exasperated, Reinala turned to the crowd. “When he proposed to me, he said that my eyes had enchanted him, that they were the most lovely shade of lavender in all the cosmos. He even changed the color of the sunset itself to perfectly match my eyes.”

  Nisi, goddess of war, snickered as she leaned forward, her skin like silver glass as she rested her hands atop the pommel of her gladius. “Did you really, Sirend?”

  Sirend folded his arms. “What? An elder god can’t be romantic?”

  Reinala snarled and the mountains began to shake themselves to pieces. “YOU don’t get to speak here, Nisi! In fact, you know what? You are never to speak in my presence again! Someone write that down!”

  Several frightened demi-gods scrambled for parchment and began writing down the decree.

  “Add some thou’s and thine’s,” Reinala added, waving her hand, “make it sound official.”

  Nisi rolled her eyes. “Spare me your drama, sister.”

  In the distance, humans screamed as they fled their villages, an avalanche of rock and soil pulverizing the huts and shanties to pieces.

  If Reinala noticed, she didn’t show it. “So, since he loses me, he loses lavender from the sunset as well.”

  Sirend growled, the seas behind him rising up. Ships caught in the swell were overturned as if they were nothing more than toys, their terrified sailors tossed overboard into the waters.

  “I have no intention of wasting perfectly good ambrosia on such a meaningless miracle. It’s obvious she’s just trying to deplete my remaining stores with this childish request.”

  “Ch-childish?” she stammered, her eyes glowing white hot as she lifted up her hands. Responding to her rage, the land rose up like a living thing, whole plains welling upwards, forests and roads sliding free as the continent quaked and thundered. Entire villages were shaken to pieces.

  “I gave you the best years of my life!” she screamed, her voice fracturing the shoreline. “Thirteen millennia, you unfaithful clotpole!”

  “Oh, I am so sick of hearing about this!” Sirend rose up, the seas bearing him upwards, a great wave of water thousands of feet high cresting behind him. “You have done nothing but impugn my honor or months now!” The other gods backed away as the wall of water and the avalanche of land thundered towards one another.

  “Ahem.”

  Sirend and Reinala froze before each other, so close to colliding that their noses nearly touched. Slowly, they turned to the source of the voice.

  Ouranos, god of philosophy, cleared his throat and scratched the bridge of his long aquiline nose as he sat in the judgment seat. “You both asked me to arbitrate these divorce proceedings,” he said flatly. “If all you are interested in doing is destroying everything, I see no reason for me to remain here.”

  Sirend and Reinala reluctantly backed down.

  Ouranos spun his fingers and created a contract in the air. “I’m awarding her request for the sunset to be modified…”

  Sirend harrump
hed.

  “…in return, she is to personally clean out the seventeen thousand tons of manure she dumped into his colosseum…

  Reinala scoffed.

  “…the goddess of the land shall retain the continent to the west…”

  He glanced over to the smoldering villages. “…or at least what’s left of it, while the god of the sea will take control of all the islands to the east.”

  With a snap of his fingers, a great golden seal appeared and the scroll spilt into two copies, flittering over into their awaiting hands.

  Reinala crumpled the document in her glowing fist. “Enjoy those tiny spits of land while you can, ex-husband.”

  Sirend chuckled deeply as he tucked the contract into his belt. “I look forward to watching my armies burn your capital to the ground.”

  The crowd of gods separated themselves further into two camps. Hands were placed on weapons, and the fires of war began to kindle.

  “There is one other item that demands attention,” Ouranos mentioned.

  Sirend and Reinala narrowed their eyes. “The traitors.”

  All were silent with loathing as two young gods were brought forth in glowing chains. Whispers of betrayal, outrage, and pity rippled through the crowd.

  Nisi seemed the most hurt of all. “Tell me it’s not true,” she whispered desperately. “Tell me you are innocent of this crime, and I will defend you.”

  The young god Tharros looked up, his eyes resolute. His shimmering golden hair slicked back like a lion’s mane. “The law is wrong, mother.”

  The war goddess flashed angrily and drew her blade. “Fraternizing with the other side is strictly forbidden.”

  “Fraternizing?” Tharros chuckled in disbelief. “I plan to marry her.”

  “So you admit your crime?”

  “Love is not a crime,” he shot back fearlessly. “Nor should it ever be. This quarrel is between Sirend and Reinala; it was unjust for them to bring the rest of us into it, and you know it.”

  Both sides scoffed at that remark.

  Hurt, Nisi sheathed her blade and turned to Sirend. “Do with him what you will. I will not oppose you.”

  “I love her mother,” Tharros pressed earnestly. “I can no more cease to be with her than I can cease to breathe.”

  Nisi turned away quietly. “Do not call me mother, that privilege is no longer yours.”

  Tharros could not hide how deeply her words hurt him.

  Sirend folded his arms and looked over the second prisoner. “This is twice now your errant daughter has brought us to ruin, Desmas.”

  A single tear rolled down the cheek of the goddess in chains. “I’m sorry, mother,” she whispered. “I have brought shame upon our family again.”

  Desmas knelt before her tenderly. “It’s not too late, my daughter. Renounce Tharros. Tell the others you were beguiled. You were in trauma after your long imprisonment. Tell them it wasn’t your fault; they will understand.”

  Estia looked up, a fresh tear clinging to her spectacles. For a moment, desperation flashed through her eyes. She looked about, considering the lie. Her mother was right. It would be so easy. Everywhere she found judgmental gazes and harsh faces among the gathered gods.

  Her lips parted in a tremble.

  But when she settled on Tharros, she saw his deep, gentle eyes looking back at her tenderly, and her lips pressed close.

  “I…I’m sorry mother.”

  Estia bowed her head, the tear falling free. “I wish I didn’t, but I do love him, and it would be a lie to say otherwise.”

  Desmas turned away and wept, covering her face. A wave of outrage passed through both camps.

  Ouranos sniffed dispassionately. “What are you to do?”

  Sirend glanced over at Reinala for input.

  “Oh, NOW you care what I think? A minute ago, you were to have me declared incompetent!”

  Sirend rolled his eyes. “An example must be made. I can think of only one punishment worthy of this crime. We will strip them of their divinity. They will be executed, cursed to be reborn as mortals.”

  Desmas covered her mouth in horror. The crowd of gods were visibly shocked.

  Tharros stood up, struggling against his chains. “You can’t do this!”

  The elder god’s body rippled a deep blue. “You still don’t get it, do you? On Galados, my word is law.”

  Even Ouranos was a little ruffled at the decision. “This is taking things a little too far, wouldn’t you say?”

  Tharros turned to the crowd. “Are you all going to just stand there and accept this? Sirend and Reinala led us to crushing defeat against the Fates. They made war on Fovos, one of our own, and they pit us all against one another. If you don’t oppose them now, next time it will be you on the chopping block.”

  The gods all turned away in shame.

  Tharros snarled. “You are cowards.”

  Estia wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “Sit down, my love. We broke the law. We deserve this.”

  Her shoulders slumped low. “We can never be together.”

  As Tharros was led away, he fought against his restraints. He yanked and pulled, straining them nearly to the breaking point. “No! I won’t accept that! You’ll be out there somewhere, Estia. Somewhere in the world. Wherever you’re born, just stay put. I will find you. I’ll search every town, every village, every house. Just wait for me, I will find you, I swear it! I swear it by the Fates themselves!”

  Estia was silent as she was taken away in despair, her mother weeping openly.

  Ouranos took out a handkerchief and dabbed the sweat forming on his forehead. “He’s right you know. Even as mortals they might find one another.”

  Sirend grinned smugly. “I’ll make sure that never happens.”

  Chapter One

  The Fates are three, just as the nations are three, and every living soul comprised of the sacred three. Ero, the fate of passion, the will to act, the desire to achieve, acquire, and obtain that animates and enlivens us. Phila, the fate of compassion, the connection with others, the fountain of tender mercy, charity, and kindness that draws us together. And Aga, the fate of destiny, the purpose for which a soul was created, the radiant reason for one’s own existence that allows us to take our place in the great chorus of life, and thus find joy.

  By varying the quantity and hue of each fate, all the great diversity and nuance of individuals is achieved. Life, is therefore both simple and sublime, impossible to comprehend, yet effortless to understand.

  -Morning Prayer from the Holy Scrolls of Soeck, Third Binding, Fifth Stanza

  The crowd rumbled with excitement in the early morning air. The line of men wrapped three times around the stepped temple, then spilled back down the street for eight blocks, nearly reaching the entrance to the city coliseum at its tail. Cherry blossoms danced in the air, coaxed on by a trio of wind nymphs hired specially for the festival. Exotic spices from every corner of the empire perfumed the air from the rows of stands selling foods, drinks, and balms. Sandalwoods and harvarosts, jasmines and saffrons enlivened the mood with a vibrance only matched by the music radiating from the temple spires. A choir of sea sirens in frilly skirts backed up by an entire band of sultry gypsies, their music slipped between the towers and wove around the columns, causing the marble to blush in shades of magenta and violet.

  The chattering voices of thousands of men became a roar as the vaulted doors opened. Younger men, not old enough to participate, scampered up on top of the marble fox statues that lined the staircase to get a glimpse of the priestesses as they came outside for the second day of the harvest festival; each priestess would demonstrate her devotion to Ambera by laying with one hundred and forty-four men to bring the Goddess’ blessing upon their island for the year to come.

  “We have the best religion ever!” Pops exclaimed giddily as he jumped up and down, his long white beard flapping about. “Whooo! All hail Ambera! May she bless my loins on this holy day!”

  Storgen couldn’t
help but laugh. “Thanks Pops, that’s an image I really needed to have burned into my brain.”

  “Ah, buck up, boy,” he said with a hardy slap to the back. “This is the only festival you don’t have to be a citizen to participate in.”

  The slap caught Storgen off guard, and one of the boxes of chocolates fell from the stack in his arms. Storgen kicked out his bare foot, catching it atop his toes before it could hit the ground.

  “Careful, old man. These cost me a month’s salary.”

  High priestess Acantha strolled out to the top of the stairs and raised her hands in worship. The men cheered even louder and at least one fainted. She was everything one would expect from a high priestess of the fertility goddess; her tall, tanned body gave off an aura of sensuality that was positively palpable, even from a distance.

  “The Goddess thanks you all for coming out so early this morning to worship her on this most holy day. I’m sure it must have been a great sacrifice on your part to take the day off work,” she said with a playful smile.

  The men cheered again in unison, and colorful confetti was released from somewhere at just the right moment, for a dazzling effect.

  “I will take you inside in groups of twelve. Please deposit your offerings of gold coin into the brass chest as you pass.” The crowd of men began to move excitedly. Even weathered fishermen and stoic blacksmiths skipped like school boys as they climbed the steps to meet her.

  With hungry eyes, she looked over each man as he stepped up to her.

  “You may proceed, councilman” she said to a well-dressed nobleman as her chisel moved of its own accord, etching his name onto the copper plates she held.

  “Oooh, you shall be assigned to my group,” she said approvingly as she gushed over a particularly muscular dock worker as he walked past.

  “Did you eat your heart-root this morning?” she asked an older gentleman.

  “Of course, High Priestess,” he reassured her, his thin arms shaking as he leaned on his cane for support. “I’m as fit as a rhino if you know what I mean.”