Chapter Four

As Arktos labored through Argonia’s streets, a pang of regret echoed in his heart. I must go back, he repeated to himself over and over again. The thought seemed to take control of him like string billowing in the wind. It buffeted him, spinning him around and pushing him in whatever direction it desired. Before he realized, he found himself once again staring down the plain exterior of the Water Goddess’ temple. He carefully scanned the adjacent streets for any witnesses that might recognize him. He shuffled closer and peered through a crack in the temple’s door into the dazzling entry chamber. When he was sure that the guardsman was no longer there, he crept inside, careful not to draw any attention to himself.

Arktos moved quickly across the entry chamber towards the ornate sanctum door and placed his palm upon one of the inscriptions. His options were clear in his mind. He could leave his daughter to never see her again. If he did, he would ensure his own safety and the safety of everyone he cared about, while also keeping Argonia’s citizens in good favor with the Goddess. There would be no drought this year.

Or he could storm through these doors, swoop his daughter into his arms, and run away with her, abandoning all to their fate. If he did, neither he nor his family would ever be safe. There would most assuredly be a drought. Most would suffer and many would die. How many daughters and fathers would be forced into hardship because of his selfishness? The thought of his people suffering made Arktos draw his hand away from the door.

Then another thought entirely dawned on him. Without Sula, what was left for him? His whole world had been designed to revolve around his cub. Each morning he rose early so that they might have enough food for her to eat. Each midday he would tell her stories and quiz her on her knots. Every evening he would tuck her into bed with a kiss on the head. What else was there for him? Philos, certainly, but that was certainly not the same. Could Arktos know without a doubt that his greatest friend would not do the same in a similar situation? For a long while, Arktos stood, nose against the crack between the doors weighing the worth of his life.

Inside the Water Goddess’ chamber, Sula also stood—far back from the edge of the platform—in contemplation. She looked across the indoor lake and wondered if at some point, the hazy mist that covered the room might concentrate into an amorphous form that would skate across the surface of the pool, drawing in droplets and becoming more defined as it approached, until Sula could recognize the beautiful figure and perfect posture of the Water Goddess, and from her basin water would flow freely through the air and she would carry Sula off to the Heavens.

But, as the water began to ripple and something restless began to stir from deep within the murky depths below, a shadowy form hidden by the mist grew out of the surface instead. As the water shifted and slowly something broke through the still surface, Sula could not help but stagger back in both awe and fear. A thump echoed as the rippling water grew into great waves that crashed against the walls of the chamber. The haze shifted and she could make out the form more clearly. Rivulets of the murky water ran thick down both sides of a gigantic head. Come to me, something seemed to whisper. The girl screamed.

Her scream pierced the great doors. When Arktos heard his cub’s yelp, something primal took control of him. Without stopping to think, the father smashed through the temple doors. He did not stop to assess the scene before him. Even the monstrosity of what had risen from the pool was not enough to rouse him from his trance. He jumped to the end of the platform and jerked his Sula out of the way just in time to avoid one of the beast’s attacks.

Though Sula had been spared from the attack, Arktos was not so fortunate. The beast’s long, branch-like fangs stabbed through Arktos’ right shoulder. The immense pain shot through his body and nearly knocked him from his feet, but quickly dulled as adrenaline from his shock and fear washed over him. Despite his wound, his instinct to protect his young did not fade. Using the hand that he could move, the grabbed for the short sword tied to his waist and unsheathed it. Awkward as it was to use with only his left hand, Arktos managed to slip the blade across the beast’s mouth. Pressing down on its hilt with all of his strength, he pried the beast’s jaws open and freed himself from its fangs.

Arktos slashed his sword ahead of him creating separation. The beast slithered back to the center of its pool as it unleashed a frustrated roar that quaked the platform beneath Arktos’ feet. For a moment, the mist cleared which allowed Arktos his first good view of what he faced. The monster resembled no Goddess he had ever imagined. From the depths of the water rose a serpent, taller than many of the capital’s buildings and wider than two aurochs shoulder to should. Where one might expect skin, its body was covered in orange eyes. Translucent scales protected each like interlocking plates of armor. The eyes moved as one, all simultaneously blinking and darting about the room with horrifying precision. The skin of its thousand eyelids was a camouflaged blue that would perfectly hide it no matter the terrain. A colorful crest of feathers ran along the serpent’s back and around its neck. Somehow its plumage was dry despite having emerged from the watery pit. Three black horns sprouted in sharp points upon the beast’s crown.

Though this was a fearsome beast, when Arktos considered the fate Sula had been resigned to just minutes before and how he had almost left her to become this monster’s snack, he could not help but stare down this foe with equal parts contempt and determination.

“Don’t approach it, Sula!” Arktos commanded his daughter who had regained her wits and began to scan frantically for a weapon of her own. “It will be best in the water. Let it come to me instead. For now, you need to run to safety, but don’t leave the temple.”

When the serpent finally reeled up for another attack, Arktos raised his blade and aimed the edge at the creature’s snout between the largest of its two largest eyes. However, when they met, the blade ricocheted against the hard scales, leaving Arktos open for another attack. Fortunately, he was quick to reposition his sword to obstruct the beast’s lunge. The impact pushed both the man and the creature back. When it recovered from the blow, the serpent shook the dizziness from its head. Had he been facing a normal opponent, Arktos would have taken this opportunity to pounce. As it was, however, the serpent was too large and its scales too hard for him to counter. It need not fear him.

So in the brief moment, Arktos scanned the room for an escape. But the only exit was the door behind him, which would leave him exposed to attack. Before he could come up with something better, the giant serpent screeched a warning to the warrior. Arktos understood the message well. Only one of them would make it out of this room alive.

Again and again the serpent lunged and Arktos again and again managed to repel it, but the impacts began to take their toll. Arktos could feel his weakness returning to him as his initial shock faded. His shoulder wound throbbed and pulsed with each clash between them. The serpent was too fast. Far faster than Arktos. He could only barely keep up with its movements. One wrong move would be the end of him and Arktos knew well that the more he was worn down, the earlier that wrong move would come.

The beast however showed no signs of slowing. In fact, it seemed to feed off of his wilting, although Arktos considered it may seem that way because of his weariness. Worst of all, his cub had not heeded his command. No, she instead had only retreated to the wall and stood firm against it with a burning stubbornness in her charcoal eyes. Please, leave me here. Save yourself. Though he pled in his head, he found he was too weak to say the words aloud.

Then, the moment finally came. Arktos fell backwards and to the ground after a particularly brutal volley. In a second, the serpent, swift and bold in its movements, struck. Before Arktos knew it, the serpent unhinged its jaw and stabbed through his leg and into the platform below it. The blood spilled from the serpent’s cheek and Arktos yelped at the feeling. Perhaps sensing its impending victory or overcome with its taste for blood, the serpent refused to relinquish Arktos. No matter how hard he try to loose his leg, the beast would not let him free.

But Arktos did not try to dislodge his leg. No, the warrior instead said a prayer, not to the Water Goddess who had once treated him so well, but instead to any other god that would hear. He offered his thanks for the fortune they had delivered unto him. In risking this attack, the serpent had illuminated its one weak point, or rather its two weak points. At this distance, Arktos could see that the largest two of its eyes, set where any serpents eyes might be, were not covered by the same clear scales as the rest of its body. So in a last effort of desperation, Arktos, pinned by the serpent’s teeth, slid his blade across the floor to Sula.

“Stab its eye!” He grunted.

Sula scrambled to where the sword had settled, but as she lifted it, she froze. She had never held used a sword before. The closest she had come to a blade was when chopping wood or cutting prickled-leaves for stew. Yet, watching the desperation in her father’s fight against the Water Goddess had inspired something like bravery, or foolishness, in her. She drew the sword in both hands and charged. Sensing her approach, the beast relaxed its jaw and tried to evade, but Arktos wrapped himself around its snout and its teeth had lodged too deep in the stone for a quick escape.

In one sloppy thrust, Sula stabbed the terror through its eye. She pressed her weight into the hilt, cheered on by the monster’s shrieking and until the blade slipped deeper into its brain.

To her horror, the serpent managed to release itself from the stone. She shrunk back, falling next to her father as it rose from the pool, high into the air, whipping its long body desperately about the room. Then, at the peak of the serpent’s height it froze as if to prepare one last slam to crush both the girl and her father. Neither could find strength to move out of its path.

Then, after the longest breath Sula had ever drawn, the serpent fell limp, its head crashing down onto the platform between the two of them. Sula hesitated. The beast had fallen, but she wondered if it had truly passed. Even when it remained motionless for a convincing length of time, the worried girl still took cautious steps around its head, afraid it might spring back to life and lurch at her with its sword-like fangs.

When she reached her father, Arktos was already up and limping over to check on her, though he was in far worse condition. The large hole in his shoulder and the new break in his leg left him weak. Yet when Sula asked if he was okay, he moved his cloak over the wound and tried his best to hide his limp.

The two did not take time to celebrate Sula’s victory. If anyone discovered what they had done, the colorful festival crowd would tear them apart before they even made it to trial. So, they fled the temple and through the market. Arktos limped as fast as he could manage, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Quick to attend her father, Sula took the brunt of his weight as he leaned against her. The dutiful daughter carried her father to the nearest stable as fast as she could. There she found a suitable horse, cut its rope, and used it to tethered her father to its seat. She mounted and took the reins. In a flurry of dust, they flew from capital, leaving behind a trail of stares and murmurs.

The cub managed well despite her inexperience on a horse. They made good time through the countryside as Arktos had fortunately spent many months teaching Sula to read the knots of the marking posts. For an hour they rode, soreness exacerbated by the horse’s desperate gallop, until they at last reached what Sula hoped would be safety.

Philos met the two outside his compound’s gate. “Sula?” he asked, eyes wider than the Goddess’. “I thought you were…” The words fell away and he abandoned them in favor of a hug. He wrapped himself around the cub and squeezed tight, before unloading his brother from the horse and carrying him on his back. “Come! Away from traitorous eyes. Inside with you now!”