Chimera Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Elias waited several long minutes before pulling himself out of his thoughts and setting Petra on a pile of straw. He laid back against a tree, staring up at the sky. He sighed, watching the stars above. His eyes glazed, and he felt the sky swim beneath his gaze. Elias recognised the signs of a vision surfacing. He let his brain begin to fuzz, and the unearthly voice began it’s un-decipherable chant. Images flashed, of power, importance, and…

Death. Terrible, painful death.  They went on and on, in an endless stream. His mind reeled at the rush of information, but one word caught his attention. He sucked in his breath.

Lona.

Lona.

Lona.

The chant shifted, and all he could see was that name. His mother’s name. He pushed the other images out of his head and focused.  Lona. Death. Pain. He cried out and sat up at the realization. His mother was going to die. Without him.

“Um, are you alright?”

Elias blinked and looked up to see Petra, still groggy eyed, staring at him. She ran a hand through her matted hair and yawned. “You screamed.”

Elias’ jaw twitched. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s already morning.”

He looked up, and sure enough, the early morning light peaked through the trees. He sighed and got to his feet. He hadn’t felt like he’d spent the whole night in his visions, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d underestimated the length his unconcious held him. He squinted, trying to pull his thoughts back the the present, but the haunting vision of his mother’s death kept resurfacing every time he blinked. He rested his head in his hands, massaging his temples.

There was a moment of tense silence, before he felt a delicate hand on his shoulder. He started, but didn’t pull away. His thoughts swam with ideas. How to get out of this. How to leave. How to save his mother from this fate.

Elias had worried about his mother for as long as he could remember. Lona had always been poor of health, even in her immortality. He remembered her always being sick, always frail and tired.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Elias shook his head and stood up. “I’m fine. Let's get going.”

Petra studied him for a moment then shook her head.  “Nay, you’re not. And we aren’t going to get anywhere soon with you like this.” She put a hand on her hip. “So. What’s wrong?”

Elias sighed. He rubbed his palm over his face and sat down. After a moment of thought, he blurted, “I have to leave. I’m sorry, but I have to. My mother is going to die.”

Petra’s eyes went wide. “What are you talking about? You can’t leave!”

Elias stood up, his eyes pleading. “Petra please, she’s going to die! If I don’t leave, I’ll never see her again!”

“You had a vision, didn’t you?” Petra accused, “If you saw that she was going to die, then there’s nothing you can do about it!”

Her words hit him like a knife. She was right. You cannot change the future. Let it go. Your efforts are useless.

He pushed those thoughts away and took a step towards Petra. In a much softer tone he said, “I need to be with her Petra. I cannot let her die alone. Don’t you understand? How would you feel if you knew your mother was going to die?”

Petra’s face became stone. All emotion flew away, and she stared at him with empty eyes.

“Go.” She said, her face pinched up. “Leave.” She stepped away and threw his sack at him.

Elias took it, but his eyes didn’t leave Petra. When she stood again to face him, he met her gaze. He knew he was doing the right thing, even if she couldn’t see it. Even if it meant she had to face the beast alone. “Σας εύχομαι όλη την τύχη στον κόσμο Πέτρα.” He said in a quiet voice. “I wish you all the luck in the world, Petra. I’m sorry.”

Her expression didn’t soften at the farewell. “If it comes down to luck, I’m doomed, aren’t I?” That was all she said before turning away.

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Elias walked through the forest, his thoughts heavy with his mother’s imminent death and his deserting Petra. He tried to clear his mind, and instead listened to the crunch of leaves under his feet.

He walked on for some time, but after a few miles, he started to have the feeling that someone was watching him. He quieted himself, and listened intently. He could just make out the faint patter of feet, around him in the woods. He remembered his arm injury, and the mysterious shadow warriors who had given it to him.

Elias brought his knife out, and pointed it into the part of the forest from which he had heard the noises. “Come out, whoever you are! Fight like a man!”

After a moment, a distinctively non-male voice came out. “Well that would be a little strange, considering I’m not a man!”

A knife flew out, right at Elias’ chest, but this time he was ready. Whirling to the side just in time, he watched the knife embed itself into a large oak. He laughed. “Nice try.”

“Oh, that was just a warning.” The singsong, girlish voice came back. “And anyway, it’s not you I want. It’s that sweet little thing you just deserted. A good thing, too, or I may have had to kill you too!”

Petra.

Elias hurled his knife at the brush, and heard a yelp as he ran back the way he came. There was no doubt, he had to warn Petra. He may not be able to save his mother, but he could save Petra. He said a silent apology to his mom. Goodbye, mom. I love you.

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Petra didn’t leave their camp for several days. Elias’ words rang in her head.

How would you feel if you knew your mother was going to die?

At that, all those unwanted memories had come flooding back. Her mother. Her family. When was the last time she had seen them? The night she had left played over in her head, like a merry-go-round of nightmares.

“You don’t even cry! You don’t care!” Petra stood, her defiance and anger making her shake slightly. Her head pounded from a night of crying and slamming doors. She didn’t care if she was being a brat. Chrysaor was dead. Gone. Deliades had killed him. His own brother.  Her knees threatened to collapse, but Petra made them lock. She would not break.

Her father’s cold, empty eyes looked down from his solid, dark throne. He gave out an air of being somewhere else, of boredom. This maddened Petra further. His cursed son was a murderer and the other was dead. Pegasus was gone, she suspected the winged horse had taken flight during the previous long night.

“Go back to your room Petra. You are being unreasonable.”

Petra’s head screamed, and she raised a hand to clutch it. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she must look a fright, with her matted hair, actively runny nose, and hollowed eyes. Not that she cared. Every time her crying seemed to stop, Chrysaor’s deep cobalt gaze would flash again, and her eyes would well up again.

“I am not a child! Nay, not your pet anymore Father! Not yours, the beloved daughter of a king who doesn’t care a bit what has become of his sons!” A half sob, half crazed giggle escaped her mouth.

A small sound came from her mother. Petra whirled to face the small, petite woman with an uncanny hardened face.

“Come now, Petra. Anger will not bring Chrys back.”

Petra sniffed. “You both don’t understand. I’d do better without you. I hope your son doesn’t look down from Olympus and be forced to look at your forgetful, dishonorable faces.”

With that, Petra turned and fled from the room.

Leo stopped Petra at the door. “Where are you going Petra? His youthful gaze turned up to meet her teary face. “Why’re you crying?” His five-year-old  lisp made the “r”s into “w”s.

Insufferable. “Why am I crying? How is it that nobody in this family is mourning Chrys except me?” Petra screeched, and she shoved Leo aside.

Not staying to watch tears of his own well upon her brother’s eyes, Petra ran up to her room. The anger had passed by the time she arrived, and she numbly packed her things. Where she was going she didn’t know. All she knew was she had to get out of here. This place where Chrysaor’s stain hung over every perfect marble column .

That night, Petra left. No goodbyes. She couldn’t bear to say that word to Meuan, dear sister. She walked all night and into the morning, never slowing. Yet no search party came after her. Never once did she hear the pounding of the castle horses drawing near.

It was the next afternoon when she saw it. A little trading village just off her path. She wandered over to it, knowing that she needed food and supplies. Traders yelled their goods, and a small, mousy boy offered her a paper. She accepted it, absently thanking him. Sinking down on a nearby bench, she flipped through it. She stopped short on at a picture on the second page. Deliades; murderer Deliades, and Chrysaor, arm in arm, both smiling. Chrys had loved his brother. But Deliades had always wanted more. Second place wasn’t good enough for her twin. Even in this picture, taken years before Chrys was murdered, Deliades crow-black eyes held resent. How had she not seen it?

Petra had left that town quickly. The pain of memory had been too much. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry since that day. Be strong for Chrys. Be strong. But she couldn’t be strong. Not now. Everyone had left her. Nay, she had left everyone. She wanted to run home to her mother, to cry in her arms. To be told that it would be alright. But that wasn’t going to happen now. Probably not ever. Now she had to kill a beast. And for what? Freedom? She would never be free. Her whole life she had been trading one prison for another.

Wiping away a tear she had not known was falling, Petra stood up. No use in crying now. She gathered her things, and was about to mount Falada; the royal horse she had been given to ride, when she sensed footsteps behind her. Her heart began to race.

They’re back! Elias is gone and now I’m an easy target.

Her hand crept to her side, unclipping the dagger she always carried. She took a deep breath and turned around. She jumped, seeing not a dozen arrows flying at her, but Elias, looking, well, terrible. His hickory brown hair was going in a million directions, and his eyes had the sheen of fatigue. He was limping slightly, and his half exposed legs where caked with dirt. Despite being still mad at him, Petra ran over and started an inspection.

“Are you okay? Did you break something? What happened? Why are you back? Were you attacked?”

Petra fired question after question at him, before at last he put his hand up, motioning for her to stop. “I’m fine. Nothing broken.” He offered in a raspy voice. After a moment of silence he said, “I’m so sorry Petra. I-” He didn’t get a chance to finish his apology, however, for at that moment, a rustling and pounding could be heard far of in the forest.

“They’re coming”

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“Are we almost there?” Petra asked, panting. They had been keeping an extremely brisk pace, and she was exhausted. Elias, however, seemed to have an endless endurance. His long strides were difficult to keep up with.

“Soon.” Was all Elias said.

Sighing, Petra jogged to walk beside him. In her heart, she felt his guilt. Looking up at him, she said, “I get it. I would’ve gone too. I mean, I’m not on the best of terms with my family, but I still love them.” She looked down at her shoes. “I’m glad you came back though. I… I can’t do this alone.” Admitting she needed help, was not something Petra was good at.

After a moment, Elias looked down at her quizzically. He shook his head, a smile threatening to form on his lips.

“Thank you, Princess.”

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Not to much later, they came across a small, fresh-water pond. Kneeling down to drink, Elias told Petra the plan.

“Ανακά is the town we’re going to stop in. We should be able to get food and supplies. Possibly directions. Other than that, we need to keep moving. We cannot afford to linger. The people here do not welcome visitors.” He glanced over, seeing her filling the canteens. “Got it Princess?”

“Aye. Understood.”

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she looked back at him. His warm jade gaze steadied her somehow. A silent assurance that he would not leave her. After a moment he stood, all business again. Dusting off his pants and helping her up, he started mounting his horse.

“Alright, let’s go.”

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