The Ballad of Persephone Read online

  Complimentary drinks arrive. Osiris throws out a coin he stole in Aryavan. A high stakes game begins with the lighting of cigars.

  Assorted card games ended after hours of play, leaving spectators to gather around one active table in the smoky room. A cloud of bad luck descended on Osiris after a lucrative winning streak; a seasoned observer would surmise he lost on purpose.

  Six rough-looking Illyrian tribesmen took his winnings. Conversation revealed they were from the Dardanii tribe of northern Illyria. Excessive drinking and more questioning stirred up concerns their employer had for a recent loss of profits. Osiris felt it was time to leave, but Persephone would not have it. She insisted on trying her luck in a game.

  First game, she barely recovered the initial investment. The men were jubilant to play with the female; such a thing is not common in Corinth. Their high-spirits disintegrated into heaps when Persephone won three games in a row, shaming the losers in front of their comrades.

  One game remains. The Princess has all her winnings in the pot. Osiris stifles a smile at her losing hand. “Come on ‘Sephie, it’s getting late.” His eyes freeze with horror. Tucked under Persephone’s sleeve is a faint, suspicious outline of a card. His heart takes off when she makes a quick switch close to her chest.

  “Time to run off to mommy,” one man laughs. He drops his hand with a broad smile. The other player slams his fist in aggravation.

  Osiris grabs Persephone’s shoulder, affording the man a sneer.

  Persephone grimaces at the ecstatic man. “I don’t think so.”

  The defeated Illyrian pauses for a moment. “You cheated!” His companions gather behind him. They flash sharp blades stuffed in their waistbands.

  “Tell the people you’re sorry and let's go,” Osiris whispers. Persephone throws him a crooked smile.

  “My mistake,” she tells the Illyrians. “Keep it.”

  They snarl at the pair. Gold-teeth appears at the foot of the stairs brandishing his pistol.

  “Time to go.” Osiris yanks Persephone towards Gold-teeth.

  Illyrians rush behind them. Gold-teeth clicks his pistol’s safety off. A shot fires over everyone’s heads. Osiris launches a table at Gold-teeth. Persephone swings a heavy chair at the closest tribesman. The charging group stumbles on the falling man.

  Osiris latches on to Persephone’s hand and pulls her hard. They clear the lower level. He pushes her out the basement door then pulls a heavy cabinet across the cavity.

  Startled patrons look at them with annoyance. They ignore curious glances in favor of a quick retreat.

  Outside, they waste no time in firing up the hover-bike. It rumbles to life. One angry tribesman leaps down the stairs, screaming obscenities. In seconds they speed away from danger.

  Two streets away Osiris pulls into an alleyway. Persephone’s heart races with excitement rather than panic. A minute passes, and the thrill turns into worry. “They’re going to find us,” she says under her helmet.

  Osiris doesn’t answer. He attaches a device on his dashboard. It lights up with a map of the area. A solid red dot blinks then begins to move. He revs the engine and takes off to intercept the dot.

  “Great, more docks,” Persephone says, as the hoverbike stops.

  Unlike in Aryavan, an ocean opened up in front of them rather than a river. Spotlights from across the channel shimmer on dark waters. Threatening air horns from approaching vessels announce the start of morning activities. The pair scramble behind a stack of barrels.

  “Osiris…I think it’s time you take me home.”

  “What? Just a few more minutes,” he whispers.

  “I don’t like this. What are you up to?”

  “The coin I lost is from Aryavan, from the church.”

  Persephone’s eyes widen. Her aggravation slips out in her tone. “This was a ploy? Here I thought you were being nice!”

  “Keep your voice down.” He relaxes his tense gaze on a warehouse and lets out a defeated sigh. “I suspect Octavia is mixed up with the tribesmen and their operation. I need proof to expose her.”

  “Maybe she’s innocent, Osiris.”

  “Then I’ll expose the true criminals. And I thought you could use a night away from routine,” he says, trying to sound altruistic. “I thought you wanted adventure.”

  Persephone slouches with fatigue and indecision. “I do, but…this is not my world. I had a good time tonight. Take me home…please.”

  Her pleading eyes force him to comply. The realization of his recklessness suddenly dawns on him. No matter whether he is the heir to House ENki and all it encompassed; Persephone is the heir to Hyperboria, the ultimate heir to everything. In his selfish desire to keep her company, he is putting her in danger. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Speeding down the empty highway was not as thrilling as the first time. The pair remains frozen in their thoughts during the 15-minute ride back to Octavia’s.

  Tinges of red clouds peek out on the horizon, announcing sunrise and the lateness of the hour. Fortunately, Corinthians are almost as bad as Aryans to start the day. Not a soul is stirring in the villa’s compound, except a few cats roaming. Osiris returns Persephone to her balcony without a word.

  “Thanks for the interesting night,” she says in an apologetic tone.

  He softens his sturdy gaze on the dashboard, removes his helmet then receives hers. “You’ve got to stop cheating people that are bigger than you.”

  “Really?” she chuckles. Her chest suddenly feels lighter.

  “‘Sephie…there’s something I should tell you.” His intense stare returns, starting at the ground far below then into her waiting eyes. “Be careful on your way home, alright. Don’t trust anyone…”

  “I don’t understand what are you saying?”

  “Best to just say it,” he mumbles to himself, strengthening his resolve. “I overheard your mother talking with Vali. She was hiding out in the garden, upset and being secretive.”

  Persephone moves back a few steps, scowling with disbelief. “How dare you?” she yells. “My mother is no saint, but she will never do anything to hurt me. And uncle Vali has nothing but my best interest at heart.”

  “Forget it.” Osiris dons his helmet.

  “No, you forget it. Get out, you miserable wretch!”

  Osiris shakes his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  The bike drops out of view, then darts out the compound. Persephone remains staring at him with her mouth wide open.

  ~ Royal Palace, Hyperboria ~

  Water tumbles down a steep fall near King Shuru’s private bedchambers, sending a therapeutic hymn of power reverberating through the walls. Morning sunshine streams across a massive window with an invisible shield separating the sickly King from the elements.

  After returning from the Citadel in the Western-Continent, Shuru descended into the grips of an unknown illness. Doctors panicked over symptoms pointing to a viral outbreak, but their concerns were calmed when all indications pointed to a common case of ‘old age.’

  Shuru moves around his spacious chamber like an old-man seeking a reminder of days past. He finds a picture-book with images of Persephone from birth up to one month ago. He smiles, wishing his one reason for living could be at his side. The end is near, my Angel.

  A servant enters with quick steps to an aide posted near the chamber’s entrance. “What is it?” Shuru asks, without breaking his stare at the picture-book.

  “Prince Odin is here, your Grace.”

  Shuru grumbles his permission. A minute passes before Odin enters.

  “Majesty,” Odin says respectfully. He helps Shuru to a sitting area.

  “You’ve looked better,” Shuru jokes.

  “What happened? All but a week ago you were well.”

  “Hyperboria doesn’t agree with me anymore I’m afraid. It’s all that bloody good living your son exposed me to at the Citadel.”

  “Yes.” Odin Laughs. "If you call cataloging old books and prancing around
with monks an appealing holiday.”

  “I am glad you are here. I don’t see you as much as I would like. Didn’t have time to tell you my wishes for the future; I do not know how much longer I have-”

  “Nonsense,” Odin interrupts. “No more talk of this. There is something wrong with you and we will figure it out.”

  “I have always considered you a son. My father and yours rose above their confinement of being cousins to become brothers, just as our forefathers ENlil and ENki were brothers,” Shuru says. He raises a hand to quiet incoming concern. “As the law requires, you shall become Regent, to rule in my stead until Persephone comes of age. I am not waiting for my death. My declaration has already been logged with the registrar.”

  “The council will not receive this in good faith. Majesty, I fear your decision will stir up a hornet’s nest.”

  “My aide has my full wishes,” Shuru says with a smile brewing on his lips. “I want all lands once belonging to House ENki to be returned to you. The territories of pTah shall be given to Osiris on his wedding day. And, you, not the Primary of ENlil, shall be responsible for finding a suitable husband for Persephone. But only if she wants a union.”

  Odin’s words get lodged in his throat. His heart sinks with despair on hearing Shuru’s wishes as if signaling the monarchs entry into the beyond. His head feels heavy, shoulders weighed down by a hefty burden. Faces of House ENlil’s Greater House Primaries infect his mind. Each screaming their legitimacy to marry the Princess.

  “Your Majesty, this will anger all the houses of ENlil and ENki. A King must rule.”

  “So, what?” Shuru bursts out. “Let them stew in their failure to see the reality unfolding before their greedy eyes. Archaic traditions set for a culture that demanded it thousands of years ago have no place in the present. I have interpreted that much from the sacred texts of the Amon-I.”

  “We can’t go against the mandate of Lord ENlil so close to the awakening,” Odin says.

  “Because a younger brother was given rule over the elder, does not make his example a case for all generations, despite what the line of ENlil thinks. Lord ENki allowed female Primaries, didn’t he?”

  “Majesty…Uncle, this goes beyond the progression of culture and civilization; it breaks from traditions rooted deep inside every Anuk, commoner and Pure-Blood.”

  “These are my wishes,” Shuru says calmly. “A toothache hurts, does it not? Doesn’t mean you have to destroy your mouth to get rid of the pain. That’s what I will say to those insufferable asses.”

  Odin gives him an earnest look with a nod. “Your will shall be done, Sire.”

  “Osiris is a good boy. Pity the bloodlines cannot be joined. One more thing, send word for Farah to return home immediately.”

  “At once, your Grace.”

  ~ Watchers Counsil Headquarters ~

  “What is wrong with you Aspasia? Calm yourself,” Prince Vali orders his Watcher. His eyes fall on her blank stare, lips held tight; she swallows intensely. Watchers’ attire consists of light fitted fabrics; Aspasia’s blouse left room for a casual breeze to flow through her bosom.

  Vali gestures her into a circular glass elevator. The ride up the steep side of the 60-level pyramid is less than a minute; enough time for Aspasia to experience a severe case of nausea. “Compose yourself,” Vali orders in a stern voice.

  Her sprint to the bathroom is suspicious: Vali raises an eyebrow curiously

  “Your Highness,” an approaching voice says. Vali shifts his gaze to a watcher in a black gown. Chancellor Gaius bows with reverence. “Welcome.”

  “Have you been keeping secrets from me?” Vali asks coyly.

  Gaius looks past small devices on the ceiling tiles, making sure he notices.

  “Secrets can never be kept in these halls, Highness. I have Illyrian wine waiting.”

  A short trip ends at an inviting chamber, with large windows at the back. Once in, Gaius dismisses his aides. They hurry out, making sure to bow to the Prince. The doors close, initiating a heavy tint to envelop the windows. The Chancellor pulls a book partway out from a long shelf, initiating a soft hiss of air. The wall swings back. Blackness in a hidden room illuminates, the conversations will be held in secret.

  “Shall we wait for your watcher?” Gaius asks.

  “Yes.” Vali nods. “Pregnancy can be a brutal condition, especially for one unfamiliar with its symptoms. Don’t look surprised Chancellor…the wine?”

  Shaking hands, trembling lips, and a furrowed brow betray Gaius’ anxiety. “I cannot deny it; she is with offspring.”

  Vali crosses his legs, offers a villainous smirk, then regards his wine. “What sort of unholy venture has the counsel undertaken?”

  “I assure you, Highness, our intentions are innocent; dare I say reasonable.”

  “Oh? And what are your intentions? Have you considered the repercussions this will have on society?”

  “It is our right to seed our race. For generations, we have tried to regain what your ancestors took from us-”

  “You cannot regain what you never possessed,” Vali interrupts. “It is a simple matter of genetic manipulation. When your race was created, that ability remained absent for a reason.”

  “What might that be?” Gaius asks boldly.

  “You are the product of Anuk and man; superior to the natural occurrence of offspring between the two races. Strength, intellect, loyalty; all traits infused into your DNA, absent the random chance of fate assigning you a less than desirable outcome.”

  “But are we human? Over time we have slipped from the pinnacle of honored service into one of lesser prestige.”

  “So, you’re despondent of the status man occupies in the strata of things?”

  “Yes,” Gaius says. “We fear our extinction. So, dear Prince, you asked of our intentions. It is simply one of survival.”

  Vali remains silent for a moment. The thought of a mighty race able to breed without controls frightens him. “Chancellor, if you pledge me your support in the days to come, I promise you, your race shall return to the glory it once held. Additionally, I will use my resources to ensure a successful birth rate.”

  Shock overwhelms Gaius. His defensive tone melts into a welcoming one. “You shall have our support, my Prince. Dare I ask what venture it is you are embarking on?”

  Vali’s eyes glare at him with a wicked smile. “Nothing I dare discuss at the moment. I assure you it is nothing sinister, merely a desire to see our civilization progress into the next age.” He holds his glass up. “To the spirit of progress.”

  The hidden wall swings with a quiet rumble. Aspasia lowers her head before presenting herself. Vali stares at her stomach, sending a shudder up her spine. “Highness, I…”

  “No need,” Vali says. “The Chancellor and I are in an agreeable state over your condition.”

  “On to other matters then…sit Aspasia.” Gaius smiles warmly.

  “Chancellor,” Vali says. “I require a small service from Watchers in southern Illyria. You see, the King has fallen ill. Dare I say his condition is deteriorating rapidly. I am of mind he may pass in the coming week. Queen Farah is held up in Corinth, but I suspect when word gets to her, she will return with haste.”

  “Then all is as it should be, is it not?”

  “I’m afraid the Queen refuses to use the Travel portals,” Aspasia says. “She insists they are contaminated.”

  “Chancellor, you and I both know portals are unstable and unusable. I require discretion in escorting the Queen and Princess to Hyperboria. Neither the military nor the masses need to know of Shuru’s condition. Aspasia shall be my proxy in this affair.”

  “I will send word immediately-”

  “Just a decree in your handwriting will do,” Vali interrupts. “A transmission can be intercepted. Rumors started. Let’s keep it within the privy of this company, shall we?”

  Gaius agrees. “Is Prince Odin involved? He will, after all, be the regent if the King passes.”


  “There is no need to involve my cousin in this. The Queen must travel today; she must arrive before…well, see that it is done. Courier your orders to the palace, will you?” Vali stands and motions that it is time to leave. “Aspasia…”

  Prince Vali and Aspasia leave the Chancellor’s office. They wait until they are inside the safety of their vehicle to break the uncomfortable silence. “Who is the father?”

  “I do not know,” she lies.

  “It doesn’t matter I suppose,” Vali says, masking his concern with a fatherly smile. “You shall have my full support and discretion; however, this does not preclude your coming duties.” These offspring cannot be! he screams in his mind.