Chimera Chapter One
Chapter One
The Chimera awakes, its senses tensing.
Human. Delicious human.
Leaves crunch under the human's feet.
Stupid, mortal humans.
One step forward for the Chimera.
This human smells of the ruins of Corinth.
Two stealthy steps more.
The feeble-minded creature, I’m practically on top of it.
The Chimera crouches low to the grass.
I am so hungry. This human will satisfy me.
The beast rises on its hind legs.
Do not worry human, death is so sweet.
The Chimera pounces.
Aye, death is sweet.
The bugle of a triumphant beast fills the air.
The great Chimera has awoken once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Head pounding, heart thumping unbearably loud, she pulled the crimson stained knife out of her brother’s eternally silenced body. Her hands shake, and an almost physical pain shoots through her.
Deep breaths, he deserved this.
No. Nobody deserves this.
He did. He would’ve killed you.
Maybe that would’ve been better.
Better. Not better. Dead.
Petra Saedon tries to calm her raging adrenaline, but she can’t look away from the bloody corpse in front of her. I did this, she tells herself. No matter how many times she says it, Petra can’t believe that she truly just killed her brother. He may have been wicked and twisted, and he may have hurt her and many others, but he was still her brother.
Dead. You killed him.
Blood of my blood.
Flesh of my flesh.
Bone of my bone.
Death. Murderer.
“I’m sorry Deliades,” Her shaky voice came out. “Rest peacefully my brother, and may the gods have mercy on your darkened soul.”
Petra finally turned away from her brother and wiped her dagger on her tunic. She swallowed vomit at the dark stain of blood it left. Sheathing her knife, she picked up her sack of food and water and dusted the sand off her trousers.
She kicked some sand over the body. When she was satisfied that no passerby would find the dead prince of Corinth laying in the sand, she moved on, walking toward Lycia.
The numb steps she took seemed to slug by, before she finally arrived at a civilization. The small fishing village off the coast of Lycia could not be more than ten miles around, but it seemed like heaven on earth. Her tongue was swollen and dry, her long, thick hair hung in dreads. She sank onto the lip of a fountain and scooped handful after handful of water into her mouth. She bit back a groan of pleasure as the cold liquid swarmed her.
Glancing at her reflection in the clear water, she cringed. Her face was muddled and savage looking, her tunic ripped and torn. After months of dehydration and sparse meals, her lithe, curved figure had become scrawny and gnarled. Petra sighed.
The time for looks, has come and gone, Princess.
Meuan would say there is always time for looks.
Meaun isn’t here, remember?
Petra pushed thoughts of her childhood friend away, pouring some more water on her face and giving it a good scrub, she set off again, pushing her way through the busy marketplace. Merchants hawk their wares, and the villagers rush for the best prices. She remembered being one of them, swarming through the crowds, not a care in the world.
“Fresh Pitaya! Get your Pitaya here!”
Petra’s stomach growled as the fat merchant continued his chant. Pitayas were her favorite. Their faint sweetness and soft consistency made her mouth water.
You have a job to do, remember? You need to get past the border!
Just one. The border can wait.
Sidling up to the fruit stand, Petra crouched down behind a barrel of Pitayas. Her hand slipped up and, while the caller was looking the other way, she grasped the spiky fruit. She bit her lip and quickly fled. Sucking her sore fingers, she pulled open the pinkish, round fruit.
She managed a total of seven steps before a strong arm wrapped around her and a handkerchief was lifted to her nose. Before she could blink, something sickly sweet filled her nostrils and her vision blurred. The Pitaya slipped from her hand. Her mouth opened to cry out, but her words were sucked away by whatever her captor had put on that cloth. Darkness closed in, and then everything went black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bang, bang, bang, bang...
Petra opened her eyes, blinking in the blinding light of day. She clutched her head, moaning at the excruciating pain. Slowly, what happened flooded back. She scrambled to her feet, surprised to see that she was not in a cell, but out in a fancy courtyard, adorned with rock sculptures and fountains of spectacular design. She looked left and right, but no guard stood on watch.
Petra couldn’t believe her luck. It made her suspicious. She stood and looked for an exit. To her surprise, she saw a giant metal gate standing wide open. She took a step towards it.
“Don’t even think about it.” A deep voice intruded on her escape. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, Princess.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bang, bang, bang, bang...
Petra opened her eyes, blinking in the blinding light of day. She clutched her head, moaning at the excruciating pain. Slowly, what happened flooded back. She scrambled to her feet, surprised to see that she was not in a cell, but out in a fancy courtyard, adorned with rock sculptures and fountains of spectacular design. She looked left and right, but no guard stood on watch.
Petra couldn’t believe her luck. It made her suspicious. She stood and looked for an exit. To her surprise, she saw a giant metal gate standing wide open. She took a step towards it.
“Don’t even think about it.” A deep voice intruded on her escape. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, Princess.”
Petra whirled to face the owner of the voice.
Petra scanned the man now in front of her. He had sharp, muscular features, and would have been considered very handsome, had he not given off an air of royal boredom. This was one of the princes of Tiryns, either Antan or Philon, Petra decided. She could practically smell the palace on him. She straightened her back a bit and met his gaze, matching his expression. Two could play this game. She was technically royalty as well.
“Aye, you are correct.” She said, giving him barely a glance as she dusted herself off. “Prince.” She added.
He smiled at her assessment. “Allow me to start.Prince Antan II of Tiryns, at your service,”he said with a flourish.
Petra merely raised a brow. “Princess Petra IV of Corinth.” She figured there was no use in trying to hide her identity. Besides, she thought, if she could get on the good side of the prince, she could be able to escape. Not that it was very likely to happen.
Once again Antan smiled at her. “How nice to finally meet you.”
The look on his face told her she should say something. She didn’t oblige.
Antan’s smile left and he said, “My apologies Princess, that we should meet under such… unpleasant circumstances. You see, my scouts have given me reason to believe that you murdered Prince Deliades, and I must say I’m confused.” He put on a semi-interested look. “Why would you do that?”
Petra shrugged. “I have my reasons. Either way, I’ll be executed, won’t I?” She look him in the eye and sees his face soften. The one thing she had going for her was her looks. Beauty could tame a lion, her mother used to say. She mayn’t be in the best of shape now, but whatever he was, the crown prince was not a fool. One knew when he looked upon a face of royalty.
“Well, that is yet to be determined. My father is a just man, but also has a merciful side.” He tilted his head to the side and thought for a moment. “If the price is right.”
Petra sighed. There was always a catch. She put a hand on her hip. “What do you want? Money? Land?” She asked, slightly irritated. “I’m a Princess, I can give you anything you desire.” It was not entirely true, but the prince didn’t need to know that.
The crown prince shook his head and chuckled. “Considering former events, I would suppose your family situation cannot be well enough to ask for either of those things.” He shook his head. “Nay, I will tell you what I want.” He took a few steps forward and motioned to the palace behind him. “Tiryns has long wanted an alliance with Corinth.” He smiled at her and held out a hand. “Promise me that you will make that alliance happen. Promise me that you will marry me and unite our two kingdoms.” He did not continue his advance, Petra noticed, which was wise.
Petra’s stomach churned at the thought of marrying him. Her stomach also churned at the thought of what could happen if she did not. She remembered the old stories of Tiryns’ torture forms. Petra did not particularly want to see them proven them true. She knew there was no other choice. She bobbed her head. “I would be honored.” She forced her voice to be steady and smooth.
“Aye, you are correct.” She said, giving him barely a glance as she dusted herself off. “Prince.” She added.
He smiled at her assessment. “Allow me to start.Prince Antan II of Tiryns, at your service,”he said with a flourish.
Petra merely raised a brow. “Princess Petra IV of Corinth.” She figured there was no use in trying to hide her identity. Besides, she thought, if she could get on the good side of the prince, she could be able to escape. Not that it was very likely to happen.
Once again Antan smiled at her. “How nice to finally meet you.”
The look on his face told her she should say something. She didn’t oblige.
Antan’s smile left and he said, “My apologies Princess, that we should meet under such… unpleasant circumstances. You see, my scouts have given me reason to believe that you murdered Prince Deliades, and I must say I’m confused.” He put on a semi-interested look. “Why would you do that?”
Petra shrugged. “I have my reasons. Either way, I’ll be executed, won’t I?” She look him in the eye and sees his face soften. The one thing she had going for her was her looks. Beauty could tame a lion, her mother used to say. She mayn’t be in the best of shape now, but whatever he was, the crown prince was not a fool. One knew when he looked upon a face of royalty.
“Well, that is yet to be determined. My father is a just man, but also has a merciful side.” He tilted his head to the side and thought for a moment. “If the price is right.”
Petra sighed. There was always a catch. She put a hand on her hip. “What do you want? Money? Land?” She asked, slightly irritated. “I’m a Princess, I can give you anything you desire.” It was not entirely true, but the prince didn’t need to know that.
The crown prince shook his head and chuckled. “Considering former events, I would suppose your family situation cannot be well enough to ask for either of those things.” He shook his head. “Nay, I will tell you what I want.” He took a few steps forward and motioned to the palace behind him. “Tiryns has long wanted an alliance with Corinth.” He smiled at her and held out a hand. “Promise me that you will make that alliance happen. Promise me that you will marry me and unite our two kingdoms.” He did not continue his advance, Petra noticed, which was wise.
Petra’s stomach churned at the thought of marrying him. Her stomach also churned at the thought of what could happen if she did not. She remembered the old stories of Tiryns’ torture forms. Petra did not particularly want to see them proven them true. She knew there was no other choice. She bobbed her head. “I would be honored.” She forced her voice to be steady and smooth.
Speak like a queen, for a queen, one day, you will be.
Petra scoffed at her mother’s voice in her head.
A queen I will never be. Never.
Ah, my daughter. How long will you fight destiny? The gods have set this in stone, and it will not be broken.
Shaking her head, Petra pushed the voice away. She turned her attention back to the prince in front of her.
He looked very pleased with himself, and said, “Then I will put in a good word for you with my father. I cannot guarantee anything I’m afraid.”
She nodded, then looked to the palace. “Well, the sooner the better.” She said, brushing her dark brown hair out of her eyes.
Antan took the hint and offered his arm. Petra begrudgingly took it, and he led her into the palace.
Petra tried not to gape at the magnificent interior of the palace. Every wall was covered with intricate tapestries and the floors shone from a thorough cleaning. She could see into several large ballrooms, which were also filled with beautiful decorations. Antan walked on through a dozen more rooms, and up a flight of stairs. He arrived in a large suite, much like the one Petra left behind in Corinth.
See, this is where you belong. Pampered and rich, your people will think, while you work away at their happiness.
Petra had become good at ignoring things. She tuned out her mother.
“Clean her up, and send her to the throne room.”
Antan’s authoritative voice swept into her thoughts. She looked up to see several maids in crisp white dresses, holding several more bars of soap and pitchers of water. A metal tub sat by her feet.
The maids gave a murmur of, “Yes, my prince,” and Antan left without a word to her.
As the door shut behind him, Petra looked back to the maids. She gulped.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After being scrubbed and massaged, poked and prodded, and squeezed into a prissy little dress, (in which she could hardly breathe) Petra arrived in the throne room.
Sitting atop a bejeweled throne, was King Proetus III of Tiryns. He was a short, kind-eyed man with the same air of royal boredom that Antan had. His eyes settled on Petra, and his look made her squirm.
She met his gaze and saw not the cold blue stare of Antan, but soft, brown eyes looking back. Petra tried not to sigh with relief. She’d most likely stand a good chance of gaining her freedom if the king was as kind as he seemed. She stood a little bit taller.
“Come here, my son.” He said to Antan, his voice coming out clear and young.
“Aye, Father.” The crown prince replied. He walked quickly towards the throne, made a hasty bow, and began speaking to the king in low tones. Proetus listened, his face showing no emotion. He then said something quietly to Antan. The prince nodded, then strode to Petra. He took her arm and walked her toward the king. Petra released his arm as soon as opportunity showed.
“Your majesty, this is Princess Petra Sarpedon IV of Corinth.” Petra curtsied and smiled slightly at the king. He nodded but did not return the smile.
“What, pray tell, is your excuse for murdering his highness Prince Deliades?” the king inquired, getting right to the point. Petra fought down her emotions and struggled to keep her face carefully blank.
“Your majesty, your servant was only enforcing judgment where it was due.” She tried to make her face seem innocent and maidenlike. “My brother is widely known for his wicked and harmful deeds. I simply rid this world of another threat.”
The king stroked his beard and a thoughtful look settled on his face.
“The princess has a point, sire.” Antan interceded, true to his word. “I have seen many a family across Corinth and Tiryns torn apart or impoverished as a result of Prince Deliades’ actions.”
Proetus thought for a moment longer, and then he looked up at Petra. His eyes seemed to bore into her soul. He scanned her for a second, then abruptly announced, “Princess Petra IV of Corinth, you are excused of your crime.”
Petra’s eyes widened. She had expected an argument at the least. Her mouth hung open for a moment, then she looked to Antan, who stood beside his father, a smug grin of victory painted on his face. Her elation turned to devastation. Now she must fulfill her promise to Antan.
She met his gaze and saw not the cold blue stare of Antan, but soft, brown eyes looking back. Petra tried not to sigh with relief. She’d most likely stand a good chance of gaining her freedom if the king was as kind as he seemed. She stood a little bit taller.
“Come here, my son.” He said to Antan, his voice coming out clear and young.
“Aye, Father.” The crown prince replied. He walked quickly towards the throne, made a hasty bow, and began speaking to the king in low tones. Proetus listened, his face showing no emotion. He then said something quietly to Antan. The prince nodded, then strode to Petra. He took her arm and walked her toward the king. Petra released his arm as soon as opportunity showed.
“Your majesty, this is Princess Petra Sarpedon IV of Corinth.” Petra curtsied and smiled slightly at the king. He nodded but did not return the smile.
“What, pray tell, is your excuse for murdering his highness Prince Deliades?” the king inquired, getting right to the point. Petra fought down her emotions and struggled to keep her face carefully blank.
“Your majesty, your servant was only enforcing judgment where it was due.” She tried to make her face seem innocent and maidenlike. “My brother is widely known for his wicked and harmful deeds. I simply rid this world of another threat.”
The king stroked his beard and a thoughtful look settled on his face.
“The princess has a point, sire.” Antan interceded, true to his word. “I have seen many a family across Corinth and Tiryns torn apart or impoverished as a result of Prince Deliades’ actions.”
Proetus thought for a moment longer, and then he looked up at Petra. His eyes seemed to bore into her soul. He scanned her for a second, then abruptly announced, “Princess Petra IV of Corinth, you are excused of your crime.”
Petra’s eyes widened. She had expected an argument at the least. Her mouth hung open for a moment, then she looked to Antan, who stood beside his father, a smug grin of victory painted on his face. Her elation turned to devastation. Now she must fulfill her promise to Antan.
Run.
Petra couldn’t tell if the voice in her head was her mother’s resounding whispers or her own. She decided it was both. She racked her brain for any way to get out of it. She could run, but there were guards everywhere. She could take maybe one of them, but from what Petra had seen, there were over one hundred inside the palace alone.
She saw Antan walking towards her, and upon instinct, she fled. Stumbling through the palace, Petra knew she was doomed. She pictured her future as either Antan’s wife or a prisoner. Both were equally horrid, but if she was to be a prisoner, she’d have at least tried to run.
Running towards the exit, she had made it halfway there when Antan caught up. He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. He raised a brow at her. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Petra pulled away from his grip. “Thank you for the offer, but I do not believe I want to marry you.” She tipped her chin up and looked him in the eye. She knew he would not let her go, but her pride took over.
The crown prince just laughed. “You don’t have to want it.” He grabbed her again and pulled her close to his face. He reeked of cologne “You will marry me, and form this alliance even if I have to tie you down on the wedding day.” He hissed in her face.
Petra scowled and pulled away, her hand slipping over the dagger hidden in her dress. She spat on the shining palace floor. “Over my dead body.” Then she bolted for the door. She knew she had no chance of outrunning him, but she ran anyway.
This time when he grabbed her he was not as gentle. Petra yanked the dagger from her dress, Antan rebounded with a knife of his own. Casually disarming her in a matter of seconds, He practically dragged her back into the throne room, and pushing her upright before his father, he announced loudly, “This girl has just attempted to murder me, father. She did not want to form the union I suggested, so she saw fit to kill me.”
Petra’s eyes widened again. Filthy little liar. “Sire, I did no such thing!” She exclaimed, but it was too late. Those kind, gentle eyes had turned a dark, furious shade, and the king rose from his throne and pointed an accusing finger at her.
“You, Petra of Corinth,” He said her name like a curse. “Are hereby banished from Tiryns. I gave you an extremely merciful pardon, and how do you repay this kindness? By attempting to murder my oldest son? I will not kill you, as I should, but I will send you to my father Lobates, king of Lycia, to be judged.”
Petra’s heart lifted slightly at the prospect. King Lobates was said to be quite elderly, and perhaps he would be more lenient. Her heart sank again, however, when she saw the note that was to be delivered along with her.
Pray remove the bearer from this world: she has attempted to murder my son, your grandson.
-Proetus III
She saw Antan walking towards her, and upon instinct, she fled. Stumbling through the palace, Petra knew she was doomed. She pictured her future as either Antan’s wife or a prisoner. Both were equally horrid, but if she was to be a prisoner, she’d have at least tried to run.
Running towards the exit, she had made it halfway there when Antan caught up. He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. He raised a brow at her. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Petra pulled away from his grip. “Thank you for the offer, but I do not believe I want to marry you.” She tipped her chin up and looked him in the eye. She knew he would not let her go, but her pride took over.
The crown prince just laughed. “You don’t have to want it.” He grabbed her again and pulled her close to his face. He reeked of cologne “You will marry me, and form this alliance even if I have to tie you down on the wedding day.” He hissed in her face.
Petra scowled and pulled away, her hand slipping over the dagger hidden in her dress. She spat on the shining palace floor. “Over my dead body.” Then she bolted for the door. She knew she had no chance of outrunning him, but she ran anyway.
This time when he grabbed her he was not as gentle. Petra yanked the dagger from her dress, Antan rebounded with a knife of his own. Casually disarming her in a matter of seconds, He practically dragged her back into the throne room, and pushing her upright before his father, he announced loudly, “This girl has just attempted to murder me, father. She did not want to form the union I suggested, so she saw fit to kill me.”
Petra’s eyes widened again. Filthy little liar. “Sire, I did no such thing!” She exclaimed, but it was too late. Those kind, gentle eyes had turned a dark, furious shade, and the king rose from his throne and pointed an accusing finger at her.
“You, Petra of Corinth,” He said her name like a curse. “Are hereby banished from Tiryns. I gave you an extremely merciful pardon, and how do you repay this kindness? By attempting to murder my oldest son? I will not kill you, as I should, but I will send you to my father Lobates, king of Lycia, to be judged.”
Petra’s heart lifted slightly at the prospect. King Lobates was said to be quite elderly, and perhaps he would be more lenient. Her heart sank again, however, when she saw the note that was to be delivered along with her.
Pray remove the bearer from this world: she has attempted to murder my son, your grandson.
-Proetus III
I’m doomed,
I’m to be hung.
Or burned.
Or left to rot in a dungeon.
She dragged a hand through her hair, pushing down the rising panic.
You can still live. You just need a plan. Do not panic.
Guards put shackles on Petra’s hands and lead her away before she could come up with that plan.
They walked her through the many halls again, then out into the courtyard. She was locked into a cell carriage and in a couple of minutes, she heard a guard whip the horses, and the shabby cart jolted forward. Towards Lycia.
They walked her through the many halls again, then out into the courtyard. She was locked into a cell carriage and in a couple of minutes, she heard a guard whip the horses, and the shabby cart jolted forward. Towards Lycia.
Everything had gone so fast. Petra couldn’t believe her bad luck. She let out a groan and put her head in her hands.
Petra looked up out the small, caged window of the carriage. Past the palace and the city, towards her home in Corinth. She wondered if she would see it again before her final resting on Mount Olympus. An overwhelming sense of loneliness swept over her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Comments
Post a Comment