Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Anteros glances at Erma, and the youngest of Eros' brothers takes over.
"No casualties reported so far, and we have two dozens of quasis guarding Halyna's parents."
My breath whooshes out of relief, but I also feel guilty that I've been so caught up worrying over Eros, I ended up forgetting about my own parents.
"I've had the protection spells around Rosethorne inspected, and not a single one of them has been disabled or attacked."
Anteros turns to his other brother. "And you, Himeros?"
The other god's tone is devoid of its usual gentleness when he highlights the inexplicable lack of consistency in the horses' actions. "Halyna was right when she said Eros in his bestial form should have been enough to make those horses run off. That they chose to keep fighting is...unnatural."
"Are you suggesting these creatures have been brainwashed?" Anteros questions grimly.
Himeros rejects the possibility with a shake of his head. "Animals have far more willpower than most give them credit for. A divine being might be able to control one or two, maybe a few creatures at most, but for one to control an entire herd..." The blond-haired god's lips tighten. "Not even Diana, the Huntress herself, is able to make creatures of the land blindly do her bidding."
"What about blood magic?" I ask. It's what I used to call them for help, and blood magic was also what Cenchreis relied on to lay a curse on my life.
"Doesn't work on animals."
Anteros' gaze narrows at his brother. "But you have a theory about what happened. Don't you?"
"Remember Arion?"
The other gods seem to understand right away what Himeros is hinting at, but I'm still clueless. "Who's Arion?"
"Not who," Himeros corrects, "but what, and to answer your question, Arion is a talking horse."
"Like...a centaur?"
"Like an ordinary horse," the blond-haired god clarifies, "but one with an extraordinary tale."
Himeros shares the story of Adrastus, a mortal Old World king who would've died in battle if not for his devoted horse Arion carrying his wounded body to safety. In his gratitude, Adrastus treated Arion as his son from that day on. The horse was given his own room in the castle, had his own servants to look after him, and although it took his adoptive father decades of patient and loving training, Arion also eventually learned to talk as humans did.
Himeros' words give me a lot to digest, but I think his point is...
"If Adrastus could train Arion to talk, you believe that it's possible someone might've trained those other horses to kill?"
"It's my theory that those horses were trained to become assassins, yes."
My gaze darts from one brother to another, but all three gods appear serious. That a horse was successfully trained to talk is amazing, but for animals to also become assassins?
"Herds don't normally retreat when they clearly outnumber their foe," Himeros points out, "and that they did so immediately and without hesitation leads me to think it's a conditioned response."
I get what Himeros is saying, but convincing my brain to buy into it is entirely another thing. Assassins kill because they're ordered to do so, and try as I might, I can't come up with a single Post-3rd equine species that's capable of learning a skill so advanced...and deadly.
Horses in this age may possess improved speed and agility thanks to genetic engineering, but those are pretty much the only traits I can think of that match the description of our four-legged attackers. Nowadays, horses are mostly bred for competition and leisure riding, just that. So for them to be capable of carrying out kill missions and executing strategic exits seemingly without a trace—-
"I know this is a given, but just to be clear - the ones that attacked Eros and me have to be from the Old World. Right?"
Himeros nods unsmilingly. "I will need to ask around, but I have a hunch those horses have been spawned by the mares of Thrace."
My heart drops to my stomach at his words. I may not be a walking encyclopedia for divine history, but even I can't escape learning a thing or two about them. While Pre-3rd totes first learn to sing cute and adorably innocent songs about little stars that twinkle and black sheep that go baa-baa-baa, Post-3rd kids like me have things like the Seven Curses of Pandora's Box and the Twelve Labors of Heracles for nursery rhymes.
And one of those said labors?
It involves Heracles being tasked to capture the mares of King Diomedes of Thrace, which are rather infamous for their preference for human flesh.
Our meeting ends with more questions than answers, and I politely decline Erma's offer to take me back to my world.
"If you remember anything else about tonight, do not hesitate to let us know," Anteros stresses, "no matter how inconsequential it may seem."
A germ of an idea crawls into my thoughts, but I mentally recoil at the thought of saying it out loud. There's this new possibility that has just occurred to me, but it's something I personally find abhorrent because I don't know if what prompts it is logic or jealousy.