Shadows on the Aegean (77 page)

She didn’t wait to see if they listened; she’d seen a few snag the boards that were floating around. Cheftu was still on the
sinking island. She wasn’t sure who was rescuing whom, or for what, or where, but she knew God did not demand they commit
suicide. With a deep breath she sank below water level, feeling around for the chute. Touching the sides, she let the water
push her up until she was in the air again. The water level was rising.

On feet that needed no guidance going around through the maze, she ran, then climbed up the ladder, hauled herself over the
ledge, and ran for the next set of stairs.

And I thought training camp was a bitch
.

T
HOSE REMAINING FACED EACH OTHER
.

Dion. Nestor. Atenis. Cheftu. Vena and the little boy she had rescued.

There were two ways off the island. The air sail, still untested with the weight of two, and a diving mask. One.

Not a serf, a Mariner, or a Scholomancer could be found. Bodies lay in heaps, the stench of burnt and rotting flesh mingling
into a tang Cheftu feared he would never purge from his nostrils. A bowl of chilled water was passing from hand to hand as
the Olimpi prepared for the possibility of death. Quickly and quietly they bathed and blessed each other with
Kalo taxidi
.

The waters of Therio Sea were rising. Chloe was … he hoped to God she was safe, far away, and he thanked
le bon Dieu
for the chance to kiss her that last time. He dared not hope for more; it was time for him to be honorable.

“Cheftu and I should have the air sail,” Dion said, wiping water from his eyes. “We are men of science, of courage. We can
lead those who regroup in Prostatevo.”

“You just want your lover with you,” Vena cried.

“I am not his lover,” Cheftu said through gritted teeth. “The women and child should go.”

“Cast lots,” Atenis said, offering Cheftu the bowl of water. He dabbed a cross, his protection, on his forehead and set the
bowl down. He didn’t need to check his belongings. He wore a kilt and belt, nothing more. Atenis had gathered the bloodstained
disk pieces and placed them in a bag slung over her shoulders.

Nestor was watching Vena cuddle the little boy named Akilez, his wet head pressed against her breasts. Cheftu supposed they
should anoint Nestor as the Golden Bull, but as there was no longer an Aztlan empire, there seemed no reason.

“Use these stones,” Dion said, tossing them from his pouch.

Two oblongs fell into the dim light, one black and one white. Hebrew was scratched all over them, lined with gold on the inside
of the letters. It was not possible, yet it made such sense, it was so logical!
Toss them
, he heard whispered in his mind. Cheftu licked his suddenly dry lips. “What language is that?” He knew, but he had to be
certain.

“Ancient Aztlantu. Before the Olimpi.”

Cheftu seized the stones, then tossed them, his words coming out in a rush of French. “Is Chloe well?”

The letters for the Hebrew “yes” flickered in the light as the stones turned in the air.

“What is this?” Nestor asked.

“Give them back!” Dion cried.

“Will we be together?” Cheftu asked, throwing them again.

“Y-o-u-r-d-e-c-i-s-i-o-n.”

Cheftu steadied the rush of blood in his veins. His decision, his choice. He could be with Chloe if he decided. She was safe,
the most important thing.

“Nestor, Vena, and the child should take the air sail. She is lighter, and they can, um, repopulate if needed,” Cheftu said.
“Atenis, you are familiar with the diving gear, you go alone. Dion can swim.”

“What about you?” Dion asked.

“We cannot leave you,” Atenis said.

“He will not be alone,” a voice said from behind them.

Cheftu wanted to laugh with joy as Chloe walked in. Vena covered her nose, Dion snorted, and Atenis and Nestor smiled. Cheftu
pulled her into his arms and kissed her, tasting the brine, the sweat, the blood. “The island is sinking,” she said. “We need
to go.”

They turned around, Nestor and Vena were already strapping on the wings of the air sail. “Until my eyes hold you again,” Nestor
shouted. “In Prostatevo!” They ran off the edge of the portico and fell. Dion, Atenis, Chloe, and Cheftu ran to the ledge
and looked down. Nestor and Vena were floating low, but floating. The white rectangle began to move southward. Barring another
eruption, they had a good chance.

Atenis kissed Chloe’s cheeks. “My eyes will not hold you again; I go to the mainland. Be well, oracle.”

“I’m not—”

“You are not Sibylla, but you are an oracle, more than you know,” she said. Holding her pouch of broken
ari-kat
stones, she walked out of the room.

Chloe turned to Dion. “Don’t let us keep you.”

Dion met Cheftu’s gaze over her head. Cheftu braced himself, memories of that night flickering through his mind. The shock
he felt when Dion kissed him. Then his horror as the dark chieftain confessed a love for Cheftu that Dion claimed surpassed
the love a man and woman could know. A love of gripping passion, a unity of spirits, a camaraderie of minds. Cheftu’s disgust
had submerged into a grudging sympathy. Dion had shared impulses and desires that turned Cheftu’s stomach, but he understood
the man’s need to reveal them.

Cheftu had fled Dion’s apartment for his own, washing his skin until it was raw. He’d still felt unclean. A mouth is just
a mouth, Dion claimed, yet Cheftu balked. Perhaps it was, if physical pleasure were the only end. Sailors used each other
from necessity on the sea, yet most would prefer a woman. Dion claimed no woman could love as completely as a man.

Dion had given him the elixir out of love and a desire to be with him.

He was alive. Was it the elixir or just natural healing? Cheftu didn’t know. “I have not changed my mind,” he said.

Dion’s hand clapped Cheftu on the shoulder, and he stood rock still. The man’s voice was low, soft; Chloe was straining to
hear what he said. Cheftu felt pity, revulsion, and great sorrow. “I am yours, Cheftu. I would give my life for you. I have
given life
to
you. You learn late that women are for breeding alone. True love, passion, and companionship are found only between warriors
and scholars and men who are equal. I will restore you when you realize womankind’s perfidy. I will wait, for I too have taken
the elixir. We are destined.”

“Back off, cowboy,” Chloe growled. “He’s mine.”

Cheftu stared at the stones. This was it! This was why they were there! These stones were a direct communication with God,
for David, for Solomon. These stones couldn’t be allowed to sink here, to be lost in the hands of this dying race.

“Let me take the stones, Dion,” Cheftu said.

“Why? You are choosing to be with her.”

“Why do you need them, Cheftu?” Chloe asked.

“I need them, Dion,” Cheftu said, ignoring Chloe. “They mean the world to me.”

Dion’s eyes darkened, and he began to smile, “The world,
eee?”

Cheftu’s hands hovered over the stones, still lying on the low table.

“If you take these stones, I will never see you again,” Dion said.

“You won’t anyway,” Chloe said.

A low rumble shook the room, throwing them all to their knees. Cheftu’s hand skimmed the table and grabbed the stones.

Dion sat up, saw the stones were gone, and launched himself at Cheftu. He caught the Egyptian around the waist and bore him
backward. “Get off him!” Chloe shouted as Cheftu and Dion rolled on the floor, Cheftu taking the blows from Dion, shielding
his face with his arm, the stones jerking in his grasp.

“Give me the stones,” Dion said. “If I can’t have you, I want them.”

Cheftu struck out, catching Dion across his jaw and cheek with his closed fist. The chieftain was stunned for a moment, and
Cheftu rolled away. “Why do you want them?” Cheftu asked as the two men stared at each other, breathing hard.

With a chill Cheftu realized Dion was aroused. “Return them to me, Cheftu.”

Another tremor. Chloe helped Cheftu up and they began to back away. “Cheftu!” Dion shouted. He crouched low, preparing to
attack. Cheftu slipped the stones into his sash, feeling the inscribed sides against his skin.

A scream of tearing rock deafened them momentarily. Dion ran toward them, and Chloe leapt in front of Cheftu, kicking high
into Dion’s groin. He collapsed to his knees with a groan. Cheftu looked at him, his friend, the man he’d respected. “The
stones were my reason for being here,” he said. You want them only because you think they will bring me to you, offering myself
into the bargain, he thought.

“We are not finished, Egyptian,” Dion wheezed out, still doubled over. The floor shook as Cheftu took the stones from his
sash, holding them securely in his palms. He couldn’t lose them; the cost had been too great.

“Come on!” Chloe said, pulling him through rooms and down hallways. She dragged him out, into passageways, deeper and deeper
into the palace. She halted at an inset altar and turned the ax. “We need all the luck we can get,” she said, and pulled him
along, down another hallway. They stopped to look out a window, and Cheftu saw the opposite cliffs were now higher. “You can
swim,
eee?”
she asked.

“Aye, of course.”

They stepped up to a gate. He saw with a shock that it was labeled Hades. “Three rules. Don’t let go of me, don’t breathe,
and swim fast!” Chloe kissed his mouth hard, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled.

They fell through air, then down into water, and Cheftu had to fight to stay with her. He held a stone in each clenched fist,
following his siren of a wife. She swam without hesitation, turning and twisting until Cheftu’s head began to pound. Around
and around they swam, then down, and farther down. His arms wrapped around her waist, his vision was spotted, and they swam
yet farther. He was going to die, he needed to breathe!

Water battered them when they broke the surface. Cheftu hauled air into his lungs and looked around, trying to gauge where
they were. “Outside Aztlan Island,” Chloe said, still catching her breath. “I don’t know where to go now.”

Cheftu motioned and they started swimming across the channel, where deep water moved fast. He felt every muscle in his body,
the jumping stones in his hands dragging at him. Cheftu and Chloe clambered up on the opposite shore. It was coated in ash,
little blobs of lava still simmering red and black on the rocks. It was a brief stop; they had to get farther away.

The archway. That island. Cheftu pulled her close, feeling the firm curves of her body, the tremble of her legs and arms from
the exertion of the swim. He could feel burns on her back as she curled closer.

“Eee
, I want you, too,” she whispered against his skin, kissing his chest, sending blood rushing wildly through his veins.

“Did I say it aloud?”

She smiled up at him, green eyes through seaweed curls of black hair. “Not in so many words.” Her hand closed around him,
and Cheftu hissed, then laughed.

“We need a boat,” he said.
Do not think about the warmth of her body, the softness of her skin
. She murmured agreement as she kissed his hands. Then she froze, sat up, and stared at him.

“Your face!”

His hand went to his damaged eye; nay, it must be the other. He touched both eyebrows. Nay, it was the first? Only a scar
left?

Chloe drew back, watching him with wide eyes. “You are healing. Major fast.” Her cadence was very slow. “Even your hair has
grown back.” He touched the side of his head that had been a patch of blistered skin. Hadn’t it?

Cheftu pushed Chloe off his side and lifted his kilt.

“What the—?” she shouted in English.

Moving his member aside, he ran his fingers through the wet hair. There was no
bubo!
He tried the other side. None there! He looked again.

“What in
hell
are you doing?” Chloe asked.

“Looking,” he muttered. Nothing sensitive or swollen, no marks at all!

“Aye. I see that. What do you hope to find?”

He looked up. She was sitting back on her haunches, arms crossed over her chest, her expression somewhere between outrage
and laughter.

Cheftu jerked down his wet kilt. “Nothing.”

The shore shook. For once Cheftu was grateful for an earthquake. “Look for any wood you can find. Rope, too,” he shouted,
motioning her one way down the beach while he headed the other.

Ash began to fall; they must have been too close to hear the eruption. Another one. Aztlan Island was literally sinking as
they watched. Cheftu turned back to the shore. Wood,
mon Dieu
, where was wood?