There was a great, thunderous boom above the courtyard, and Ion further barricaded himself behind the Sanctum door. A chariot soared down from the sky, drawn by four bleating steeds that had no skin, only muscles made of violently flowing water. Their hooves clattered across the glass tiles of the courtyard, and the chariot halted before the Sanctum. The chariot was dripping with gold, but not near as much as the goddess who flew it.
Nepia didn’t even bother to tie up the reins of her horses. As soon as the chariot landed, she stormed into the hall. Her skin seethed a deep, angry blue, and the monstrous, webbed fin running from her forehead and down her back was flared like an opened sail.
She stopped before the three gods, fists clenched. “Treason!” she boomed at Othum with the snappy, gargled voice of a crab—if ever a crab was to speak. “You have committed treason!”
Othum stared confusingly at her. “Me?” he asked.
“I stare into the eyes of no one else!”
“My dear sister, I think you should lower your voice,” said Othum. “There are children on these grounds.”
“I don’t care about the children!” Nepia snapped. “I care about my safety and the preservation of my domain. And you, my brother, have put that in grave danger with your imbecilic actions!”
Othum stood. “Is that why you called this meeting? To berate me without reason?”
“I called this meeting to confront you before the other members of the council!” Nepia said, finger pointed furiously at her brother. “How can I be certain of my position as Sea Queen with you as the Skylord of this pantheon? I remained silent when you held the vote to imprison a noble god. And I remained silent when you only narrowly won that vote. But you’re a fool to think I’ll be silent now.”
“Are we talking about who I think we’re talking about?” Ezra asked.
Othum took a deep, mournful breath. “We are,” he said. “He was not well, Nepia. He still is not well. The way he spoke about the humans, the elves, every race—nothing good was to come of that. He had plans to do bad things, things that will not happen so long as I am the Skylord. And extending his sentence will help keep it that way for as long as possible.”
“But Father,” said Eos and Ezra together, “the pantheon was supposed to vote on that. He was to be imprisoned for five months,” said Ezra, “and then we’d vote again to free him or extend his sentence after a thorough psychological examination.”
“I did the examination myself,” Othum said. “And I assure you, he is still very much sick in the head.” Othum’s eyes went dark and he looked back at Nepia. “I knew there would be others who would have campaigned for his freedom, so I did what I had to do so we could avoid drawing a chasm through the pantheon.”
Nepia’s lips curled up to her nose, bearing sharpened teeth. “You’re such a conniving little windbag!” Nepia’s voice rocked the Sanctum. “No one but he and I have ever opposed you and your ridiculous laws, so you locked him away to strike fear in the hearts of those who might be willing to call you out. Now you could pass any bill you wanted to, couldn’t you? Tell me, brother, am I next? Should I expect to see chains around my wrists as well?”
“Nepia, you’re acting insane.”
“You watch your step, little brother, or I’ll feed your precious island to the sea!”
A crash of thunder shook the hall, and bolts of golden electricity issued off the corners of Othum’s eyes, fingers, and the tip of the diamond in his chest. Esereez, Eos and Ezra sat quietly in their seats as the bolts blistered the surrounding walls.
“Do not attempt to intimidate me in my own hall!” Othum thundered, electricity hissing off the corners of his lips. “Make no mistake about it, Nepia, I will subdue and destroy any threat to the Balance. And if you dare to side with him, I’ll consider you just as great of a threat!”
Nepia stood, firm in her spot, seeming untroubled by the storm brewing right before her eyes.
The electricity thinned. And when the Skylord calmed, he sat back down, straightened his white robes, and stared at Nepia. “My actions have made this world much safer,” said Othum, “so I will hear no more about this matter. Now, is there anything more you wish to discuss with your council? Or has the time already come for your departure?”
“A departure sounds quite refreshing, actually,” she spat.
“Very well then,” said Othum. “You are dismissed from my hall.”
Nepia bowed and walked out of the Sanctum. She climbed into her chariot, and with a whip of the reins, her watery steeds charged into the sky, disappearing over the walls of the fortress. The seas were going to be treacherous for at least the next few weeks, that much was for sure.
Ion turned back to the inside of the Sanctum. Everyone was silent, and Othum’s muscles were still clenched with anger.
Finally, Esereez cleared his throat and said, “That old squid seems to smell worse and worse each time I see her.”
Ezra and Eos rolled their eyes, and Othum threw his head back in a fit of laughter.
But then a shadow cast over Ion and he froze, seized with fear.
“Don’t let my relatives fool you, my dear,” came a lovely voice, “behind those angry displays of power are hearts of gold.”
Ion slowly turned around to face the widest, brightest smile he’d ever seen. The woman standing before him sparkled in a long, white dress that made her white teeth even brighter. With her eyes shining an electric green and her short hair as dark as the night sky, Ion was certain she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.
“You know, spying on gods isn’t the best idea,” she said.
“You’re…you’re Lady Vinya,” he whispered, completely stunned. “M-mother always talked about y-your hair.” She was the Illyrian of nature and the moon, and another daughter of Othum’s. Ion gulped. “P-p-p-lease don’t turn me into a deer!”
She smiled and tussled his hair. “Nonsense, my dear. Turning a Guardian into a deer wouldn’t be too great for me, now would it? Someday you might be saving me on the battlefield.”
“How’d you know I was a—”
“I have my ways,” she said with a wink. “However, I strongly suggest you return to your living quarters before anyone else finds you hiding where you shouldn’t be hiding.”
Ion smiled. “Thanks for not ratting on me.”
“Think nothing of it, my dear,” she said. “Now, get going, Ionikus. Busy, busy day tomorrow!”
Doing as he was told, Ion smiled and raced back to his room.
He lay in his bed, wondering about this he the Illyrians had imprisoned. He thought about the Detainment, and if any of the gods he’d seen tonight were among the seven who’d voted in favor of it. Nepia seemed like a match. Esereez, too. Maybe even Ezra and Eos. But he wasn’t so certain about Vinya.
She was so nice and smiley. And she didn’t even look at his jaw.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
Rays of morning sunlight fell warmly across Ion’s face.
Fog smothered his window, but through it, he saw a four-winged bluebird perched atop the ledge outside. It sang a sad yet hopeful song, and Ion couldn’t help but smile. Mother used to sing with the bluebirds when they’d play outside her kitchen window. She was never very good, and the birds would always fly away in utter annoyance, but it made Father laugh, so she made sure to sing to those birds every time she saw them.
Father. He had a great, thunderous laugh, and if Ion kept up with his end of Othum’s bargain, he’d hear Father’s laugh again by the end of the year.
And in the middle of Ion’s thoughts, a great ka-boom shook the walls of his room.
Another explosion came, and a young man’s voice penetrated Ion’s bedroom from under the floorboards: “Myrmidons always beat Swamp Priests!”
Ion dropped to the floor and planted his ear to the wood.
“Not fair!” cried Oceanus. “I can never remember that rule!”
Ion crept out of his bedroom, down t
he spiral staircase, and through the corridor lined by obsidian statues as the voices grew louder and louder. He stopped at a door of twisting, gnarled iron rods, and something shattered within the room—something made of porcelain. Ion knew this sound quite well, because when his Caller abilities first surfaced, his winds had shattered many things made of porcelain—most belonging to Mother.
“No!” shouted the boy. “You’re cheating!”
Ion slowly pulled the door open, and his jaw dropped.
A lengthy, black, granite table spanned the center of the room. Oceanus stood on one side, scanning the surface of the table as deeply as she did the last chapter of a book. The table’s surface played host to a miniature scale of a savannah, complete with rolling plains of grass that swayed in the wind and mountains that rose along its edges. Grid lines swept through the landscape, squaring out every inch of the board, and within them stood small figurines—ones that yawned, and stretched, and swung their tails about (if they had them).
“Who’s the dwarf?” asked a boy standing across the room, glaring at Ion with a pair of tiny brown eyes. “And what’s on his face?”
He stood two heads taller than Ion, for sure, with pumice-stone armor coiled around every inch of his body. His head was hairless, and shiny, and thick, sitting atop a neck that was even thicker.
Oceanus turned and greeted Ion with a smile. “Good morning, little brother! Slept well, I hope?”
Ion nodded, uneasy what with the boy still staring at him.
“Spike, this is my brother, Ionikus,” said Oceanus. “He’s the one I was talking about earlier—our newest teammate. So you can stop glaring now...thanks, you’re a doll.”
“This is the new Guardian?” Spike asked. He approached Ion, and dissected him with a look somewhere in between a bewildered dog and a furious lion. He stopped on Ion’s jaw. “What is that thing? Looks like someone built a house on your face!”
Ion ran his fingers along the cold metal, feeling like an ant. Or worse, the tiniest ant you’ve ever seen, who’s broken a leg and lost his colony.
“Spike!” said Oceanus. “That is unnecessary and rude!” She looked to Ion with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Ion—that’s Spike. He’s the Earth Guardian, prevailing over dirt, sand, and other oh-so-terrifying minerals.”
“And don’t forget it!” Spike said, returning to his side of the table.
Oceanus leaned over and whispered loud enough for all to hear, “Don’t take too much of what he says to heart. He’s just mad he can’t tie his sandals without first reading instructions.”
“That was only once!”
“He’s also Solara’s twin,” Oceanus added, “though you can see who has the looks in the family.” Spike grunted; Ion forced a smile. He’d almost forgotten about Solara. “If you didn’t already know, he and Solara are also the children of an Illyrian. Their mother is Lady Illindria the Beloved, sister of Othum and the one who holds the Throne of Seasons.”
“I know who Illindria is,” Ion grumbled. And if she was anything like her kids, Ion was sure as sure she had voted for the Detainment.
“Spike and his sister moved in about two weeks ago,” Oceanus went on. “But they’ve lived on Illyria since birth. Pretty cool, huh? He says he’s never seen the Outerworld though—his mom never let him because of the war.”
Spike stomped his foot once more and the room shook. “Enough talking! Are we going to finish this game or not?”
“Cram it!” said Oceanus. “I will in a second.” With a wave, she ushered Ion over to her side and explained, “This game is called Gods and Guts. It’s a match held between two to four players, where they attempt to capture the Hill, there.” She pointed at the center of the table, where a glimmering, silver temple rose. “Players get to pick from ten different Factions, which are collections of figurines, each with their own special advantages. My favorite Faction is the Swamp Spawn—they’re hardy, yet vicious, tactile yet brutish. Give it a few games and you’ll find your favorite, too.” She straightened her shoulders and smiled faintly at Spike. “Now, watch your big sister wipe the floor with an Illyrian’s son.”
Oceanus picked a two-pronged staff up from the table and moved a marble hydra—a beast with five writhing snake-like heads and a monstrous, swooping tail—two squares up, right beside the temple. Spike hesitated for a moment, scanning the grid before him. Finally, he picked up his own two-pronged stick and maneuvered a figurine of five closely huddled soldiers up two squares as well, right beside the temple and the hydra.
“Hah!” Oceanus cackled. “Unfortunate move, Spike. No spear is strong enough to pierce the flesh of a hydra. I thought you would’ve learned that from last week’s match.”
The mouths of the hydra let out an ear-shattering scream as if there were an actual one in the room, and the beast raced around the corner of the temple, darting toward the soldiers. The armored men stood their ground, lifting their tiny shields above their heads and directing their spears up at the encroaching monster. The hydra, undeterred, craned its lengthy necks over the men, before devouring each of the soldiers with a separate head.
As the last man was swallowed, Spike inhaled a calming breath, and looked up from the board.
“That was your last soldier,” Oceanus said. “Looks like I win.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Spike. “You’re a cheater and everyone knows it.”
“Oh, don’t be a sore loser,” said Oceanus. “It’s only the fifth time you’ve lost a game of Gods and Guts to me. So, that’s what...five to zero?” She looked over at Ion and asked, “Seem fun?”
“Very,” he replied, completely amazed. “How do they move like that?”
“An enlivening enchantment,” Oceanus explained, “which is something of an art form to nymphs. The game is meant to help us build strategies for future battles. It isn’t a bad pastime either.”
Oceanus placed her hand on a large dial on the side of the table and switched it to off. The savannah before them melted down into a puddle of black liquid. It pooled into a basin carved into the table’s surface and sat there, still and ominous, looking like a slate of solid stone.
“We should be off to the Great Room now,” said Oceanus. “We need to wait for Othum’s word on the Induction Ceremony he’s planned. Not sure what it will involve, but knowing him, it’ll be interesting.”
Spike sniffed at Oceanus and strolled out of the room with his nose held high, not unlike a proud skunk. Oceanus and Ion followed, but kept their distance, which she suggested was best.
“He’s quite moody,” she whispered to Ion, as Spike climbed the spiral staircase to the Dorms.
Once in the Great Room, Oceanus gave Ion a brown leather bag with shoulders straps. “It’s a backpack for classes,” said Oceanus. “Outerworld humans use them in school to carry their books, and papers, and these weird things called portable cellular telephones. Or, at least, they used to before the wars.” Ion sat on one of the couches in the shadow of the Othum statue and fiddled with the buckles and straps of his new backpack, while Oceanus raced around in her room, loading her own bag with quills and papers. Spike stomped around in his room, which was marked by a mountain with three peaks.
There was a crack of thunder, and the room began to shake.
“Earthquake!” Ion screamed, before scuttling underneath the couch.
A shower of dust fell from the ceiling, and Oceanus and Spike came out of their rooms wearing backpacks and bored looks. The quaking stopped, and the statue of Othum tore its elbows down from their raised positions and gingerly placed its hands on its hips. A crack split across its lips, until a smile beamed down upon the Guardians.
“Good morning, students!”
“Morning Skylord,” replied Spike and Oceanus.
Ion crawled out from underneath the couch, and feeling the embarrassing weight of everyone’s eyes, went red. “This place is infested with mice!” he said. “One scurried across the floor and when I chased after him he went under the couch
!”
“So…you followed him under there?” Oceanus asked, an eyebrow raised.
Ion cleared his throat. “Naturally.”
Othum stared suspiciously at him. “Mice…how curious. Well, I guess you’ll be relieved to hear you’re needed elsewhere, then? We just finished inducting the dwarves into the new school year, so I would like the three of you to meet me in the Pythagorean Coliseum, where the Induction Ceremony for the Guardians shall begin.”
“But what about Solara?” Spike asked. “I haven’t seen her all morning.”
“It appears Solara has unlocked a new set of powers in her recent...rage,” said Othum. “I’ve sent her off to develop these skills in a more controlled environment. It’s for everyone’s safety, I assure you, Spike.”
Ion sighed with relief, and Spike directed a cold, hard glare at him. Ion didn’t care, though. He knew Solara wasn’t going to be pleased about attending the same school as the “bug” who threw a blizzard at her. So one more day without her around was one more day Ion got to avoid death by locusts.
The statue of Othum gave a bow and a massive crack split down its back. “I shall be awaiting your arrival.”
The statue lifted its arms into their original positions—lightning raised in the air, aiming for the stairs—and the cracks in its lips and joints glued themselves back together. Ion collected his backpack from the floor and nervously looked to Oceanus.
She shook her head. “I see you haven’t gotten any better at lying.”
The walk to the Pythagorean Coliseum was a magnificent one—strolling down hall after hall of shimmering, red tiles, lined by black centaur statues brandishing lengthy trumpets. Ion followed Spike and Oceanus down a great flight of stairs, into a hall bathed in sunlight, which passed through the glass ceiling above. At the end of the passageway rose a pair of wooden doors that stretched all the way up to this glass ceiling. It was here that Oceanus and Spike stopped.