Free Journey Into Nyx by Jenna Helland Page A

“They’re trapped by their own walls in a deluge from which there is no escape.”
    “It’s quite clever,” Elspeth admitted. “Just tell the king. I can’t offer that idea as my own.”
    “You must,” the satyr said. “If it comes from me, it’s automatically suspect. This is a horrible situation for me. I mishandled it from the beginning, and now I can do nothing but sit back and watch the city I love be destroyed.”
    Elspeth felt overcome with sympathy for this small creature, who was simply trying to find a way to make up for what he had done. Something clanged in the hallway, and as she turned her head she missed the flash of red light in the satyr’s eyes.
    “Will you go to the war council and present the idea to the king?” the satyr asked.
    Elspeth hesitated. Her mind was brimming with questions, but with one exception, she couldn’t sort them into coherent sentences.
    “Which god does Sarpedon pay allegiance to?” Elspeth asked. The words felt like pebbles on her tongue. “Whatever god it is, I hope he doesn’t expect anything of me.”
    “Oh, he doesn’t,” the satyr assured her. “How about I arrange a meeting when this siege is over? I’m sure Sarpedon would like a chance to get reacquainted.”
    “That’s not a good idea,” Elspeth said, moving to the door. “But please, give him my regards if you see him again.”
    The satyr smiled and jutted his pointy chin at her. “Good luck with the council, Elspeth,” he said. Then he said something else. It sounded like “I’ll see you soon.” But the heavy door swung shut and blocked out his words.

    When Elspeth joined the others at the Heroes’ Podium, Anax was describing the countryside around Akros to Anthousa and Cymede. An ethereal representation of the ridges and mountains hovered above a stone table with carvings of two outward-facing bulls on its base. At the far end of the room, a marble statue of Iroas overlooked the proceedings. Daxos stood in the shadows apart from the others, leaning against a pillar. His face brightened at the sight of her.
    Elspeth joined him at the edge of the room. She still felt strange and disoriented. But her heart pounded with excitement about the satyr’s plan.
    “Are you all right?” he asked. He brushed the hair away from her face. “You look feverish.”
    “I will challenge the Rageblood to a fight
between the pillars
,” Anax said loudly from the center of the room.
    “And what do you think that will accomplish?” Cymede asked. Her voice was deadly calm.
    “The death of the Rageblood!” Anax shouted. “Are you questioning my ability to—”
    “No!” Cymede retorted. “I’m questioning the minotaurs’ honor. They won’t respect the rules of the duel just because you do.”
    “You could kill the Rageblood, and the others would continue fighting without him,” Anthousa agreed. “It wouldn’t mean the end of the war.”
    “I have to act,” Anax said. “I can’t sit here like a mouse cowering in a hole.”
    “When is the full Meletis Legion due to arrive?” Cymede asked, turning to look at Daxos.
    “In two days’ time, at best,” Daxos said.
    “And what about Setessa?” Anax asked Anthousa. “Will your people come as well?”
    “The Setessan warriors are at least a day away,” Anthousa said. “But I warn you, our numbers are small. We’ve never supported a standing army. I hear the leonins are watching from the mountains. Have you approached them for aid?”
    “They might join the minotaurs,” Anax said. “Savages with savages.”
    “The Alamon is decimated,” Cymede said. “I heard it from witnesses in the camp. We can’t count on help from our wandering soldiers.”
    “So you expect me to sit and wait for Meletis?” Anax said angrily. “I won’t sit idly by and let them toss plague-infested carcasses into our city. If we wait for the Meletian Army, we will all be dead from the plague.”
    “And I won’t sit by and let you throw your life away to