Chapter Three
The three had been riding for a long while—made even longer by Sula’s imposed silence. Once or twice, Arktos tried to get the attention of the girl sat between his knees, but—no matter how curious she might have been—she stared obstinately into the distance. The defeated father pressed no further and focused his attention on the road. The guardsman that accompanied them had no interest in idle chitchat, which was just as well for the old warrior had nothing only harsh words to say to him.
Eventually Arktos recognized the first signs of the capital on the horizon. Peaking over a range of foothills was the pointed roof of the Heavenly Palace. Though many years had passed since its construction, its white stone still felt odd to him. It seemed that the longer he spent away from the capital, the more buildings carved of that same stone seemed to sprout up and overgrow the old structures he had known. When King Argus had first ascended to the throne, the raising of his Heavenly Palace became Argonia’s primary priority. For a year straight, convoys loaded with the stone had crowded the road from the capital to Leuaion, the Argus family’s homeland in the north. He wondered if the new stone structures had been built to emulate the Divine family or by its decree.
It was a shame that such an eyesore had caught on. Arktos far preferred the wooden palace of King Dutikos, the previous ruler. The sprawling compound had served as the Royal Photenos family’s northern residence for fourteen generations and the previous King had honored it as the Royal family’s greatest heirloom. He had invited dignitaries from everywhere—including the furthest realms of Mesovasileos—to convene in the capital so that he might flaunt its grandeur, which brought both prosperity and renown to the city's denizens, who were quickly known the world over for their hospitality.
More than that though, there was a life to the Photenos palace. Arktos could still picture the way its columns sprouted from the soil as though they had taken root and the way its eaves seemed to breath as they stretched out for sunlight. The pride it inspired united the people of Kratylos, the capital’s former name. From the lowliest beggar’s hovel to the Royal residence itself, each of the city’s buildings had been carved from the kandara wood of the nearby Hyle Forest’s sacred grove. There were no stones to separate or elevate individuals among them.
He could find no such life in the new capital. Argonia had been petrified. Its citizens’ hearts were now as fragmented and cold as the stone ceilings above them. Arktos wondered if the people knew that one gust of wind could topple their columns and cave the roof in upon them. He uttered a prayer under his breath that this would never come to pass.
The group followed the road up a foothill and the capital’s outer walls, carved from the same stone, came into view. Arktos craned his neck to peak at Sula hoping the mystery of the structures before her had eased her temper enough that she might forgive him for the smack, before they parted ways for good. As expected, he found an excited glow in her eyes, but when Sula felt his gaze, she looked away from the capital and in her stubbornness buried her face in the horse’s mane.
When the group entered the city’s gates, the Divine Guard greeted his fellow guardsmen posted at the walls. The group approached the wall garrison’s stable. “We won’t be needing these anymore,” the guard declared, dismounting and passing his horse’s reigns off to an apprentice for stabling before beckoning for Sula and Arktos to do the same. “The streets will be far too crowded today to get anywhere quickly on them.”
They needed only walk a few minutes further into the capital before his prediction was proven true. The streets ran dense with citizens, each dressed in their finest ornamented robes and jewels to celebrate the Festival of the Goddess and dancing along to the beating of what seemed a million drums.
For Sula, everything in the capital was a wonder and she quickly lost herself in its glamour. The shining marble temples were adorned with the Divine family’s crest, a beautiful emerald encrusted eye. In fact, the pediment of every building seemed to be adorned with the same eye, whether jeweled or painted. Shops and specialty buildings were demarcated by thick knots of rope hung from their beams that spelled out their services or family name. Sula read knots for butchers, blacksmiths, potters, restaurants, and even one fortune teller.
As she passed through markets teeming with ornamental swords, painted masks, and a thousand other curiosities she’d never seen before, she took note of the life-sized statues of the Water Goddess and the Divine family standing above a pile of bountiful offerings that included luscious fruits, spiced wines, and oboloi sticks. Sula wondered who could be so wealthy as to easily part with such a vast quantity of oboloi. Though she had saved the allowance that her papa had given her on the nights when the Moon-Hound took its day of rest from pestering the Sun ever since she was a babe, she had nowhere near the stacks that were piled at the feet of the marble king. She could only dream of the wonders she would buy from the market if she had only a portion of those riches.
Somehow though, amidst all of the capital’s glitz and glamour, it was the drummers that stood out most to the girl. Scattered about the festival’s colorful crowd, they donned white robes with seams decorated in various patterns of silver, gold, and emerald. Though her home was a long way from the capital, Sula recognized their clothing as the standard regalia of the Priests of the Water Goddess. Her community’s local priest would dress in the same white, shiny outfit, albeit he always appeared disheveled, at least more disheveled than the caravans of priests that frequently passed on the great road as she helped her father tend to the fields. She had always wondered how they could keep the white so bright amidst the orange dust that plumed up around them.
Past the drummers, Sula spied an even greater wonder. At the highest point in the city rose a wondrous walled palace that seemed to kiss the very heavens. Though Sula had seen the palace’s point during their ride on the road, only now were its features apparent. In every way, it was immaculate. The shining white of its straight pillars matched the white of the priestly garb. Scenes were carved into its stone relief and outlined with precious gemstones. Though too far to know for certain what they depicted, Sula imagined they were battles between heroes and demons. Unfortunately, the rest of the palace's face was obscured by vast ramparts that coiled around it and the hillside below. It reminded her of the transcendent castles she would often dream of after a day spent prowling through the tall baracorn stalks. As with those, Sula could only imagine what treasures could be found within that heavenly place.
In her excitement, Sula thought to ask her father the many questions swirling about her head, but before she could, she recalled her previous anger and decided she would grow even colder instead. Still, it was not take long before a smile began to threaten at the edges of her lips as she noticed a flock of helm-birds gathered in the city’s central fountain. She debated running across the plaza to dance with them. Before she could act on the impulse, the guardsman, as though aware of her machinations, grabbed her wrist lightly and guided her through the crowded street.
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As they pushed through the crowded streets, Arktos could not block out the soft hiss of whispers or the heavy gazes upon their group. They knew. They all knew his daughter was the tribute. The painted eyes that adorned each building seemed to move with them, carefully tracking their every step. Prince Argus II had gotten word of their arrival. Surely they were being watched, their every action scrutinized, if not by the painted eyes then by a spy or unwitting citizen that would become one in a moment's notice at the Prince's command. The thought was paralyzing. The pitiful father could do nothing but walk onward, leading his daughter to her end. He tried to speak but the words never came. In the capital there was no privacy. In the capital there were no secrets.
When they at last reached their destination, the temple of the Water Goddess and the guardsman announced their arrival, Arktos almost did not believe it. Though said to be the Water Goddess’ preferred resting place within the mortal realm, the structure’s façade was rather unassuming. It had not been carved of the luminous white-stone sacred to the Argonian family, but rather a reddish sandstone. No scenes of the Divine family’s triumphs or tribulations had been etched into the awnings nor were the column bases decorated with anything more than simple blocks. Although it had tall, wooden gates, the entrance was level with the street without any stairs or inclines to elevate it above the other buildings in the vicinity.
Odder still, the temple’s roof lacked the customary tiered pagodas of other temples, which Arktos had always considered integral to demarcating such places of worship. Instead, its ceiling was domed at the center and only just visible over four connected porticos set on each side of it, like a ball floating in the current, half-visible and half-submerged. It reminded Arkros of a time when he and Philos had dirtied their good robes trying to snag a floating pluma melon on the banks of Lake Mephelios. He was glad to have recalled such a fond time given his current circumstance.
At the wooden gates of the temple, the guard halted and spun on his heels. “Here we are. Arktos, hero of Argonia, this is where you must take your leave. I will give you a moment to say your farewells before taking Sula inside.”
Arktos turned to face his daughter, but was devastated when she paid him no mind, her eyes locked forward.
“No,” Sula said. The word was not a yell, but it was firm enough to be understood as one. “I won’t take one more step without my papa.” She stomped one foot against the dust marking the threshold. Her father hid a smirk at his cub’s strength. She was such a brave girl. He did not know many that would make commands of a member of the Divine Guard. Stubborn, too, he admitted.
Whether in kindness or in an attempt to avoid a troublesome situation altogether, the guard was quick to relent. “Fine, but he can accompany us no further than the entry chamber. Only those ordained by the Divine are permitted to enter the Goddess’ sanctum.” This small promise was enough to satisfy the cub.
To Sula and Arktos’ surprise, the inside of the temple was nothing like the outside. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing that either had ever seen. Having retreated to the countryside following the war, Arktos had not had a chance to thoroughly explore the new city that he had played a role in creating and as a consequence had never visited the Water Goddess’ temple. Standing there, it was clear to him that the temple was the primary beneficiary of whatever wealth Argonia could muster. Painted patterns of blues and greens entwined with layers of limestone and turquoise and wrapped around the entry chamber’s white stone walls. On the ceiling, an ocean of geometric, golden waves rippled out from the center of the room to the edges, while the floor was a deep green jade. Various statues of the Goddess' lesser servant sprites were placed on small podiums in the concave recesses of the wall. One such statue was of a fantastical beast that had both the long mane and auric fur of a golden lynx and the tail and webbed claws of a dolphin-drake.
Beside this statue, at the far end of the room, were two enormous doors crafted from a coral-colored mineral. They dwarfed the rest of the chamber, rising even higher than those of the temple’s exterior doors. In their presence, for the first time in her life, Sula began to feel small. What could possibly need such large doors? The thought both intrigued and frightened her.
Arktos recognized depictions of the Water Goddess’ multitude of trials and tribulations etched into the great doors. One displayed the Goddess hearkening forth all the sea creatures to destroy the fleets of foreign invaders threatening the Argonian shores. Another had a scene of her tricking the Earth Demon and stealing his maritime winds to spread her dominion inland. Had the situation been different, the scenes might have enthralled the father and daughter both, but as this was to be the setting for their final farewell, neither were overly taken in by the hall’s grandeur.
Sensing their time together would soon be coming to an end, Sula grabbed at her papa’s fingers. Accepting her offering of forgiveness, Arktos swept down to her level and cradled his cub her tightly in his arms.
“I love you, Sula,” Arktos said, fighting back his tears.
“I’m going to miss you, Papa,” Sula said. Her voice cracked but did not waver. “Andandand—I wish this didn’t have to be goodbye.”
For some reason, her words made him realize a possibility that he had not considered. If Sula were being put to death, there was always a chance they would reunite in the afterlife. But, because Sula had been chosen as the Goddess’ tribute, she would live forever in her realm. No matter what the future held, he would never see his cub again. Finally, the tears streamed hard from his eyes, but he dared not make a sound, afraid he might break altogether. Sula stayed strong, much stronger than her papa, which made him feel all the worse. She didn’t cry but smiled as she nestled deeper into his shoulder and took a deep breath of his scent. He smelled of smoky kapnia root. The same as always. She hoped that she could save his smell and bring it to the Water Goddess’ realm, so a piece of him would always be with her.
Neither knew how long they spent in their embrace, but they didn’t separate until the guardsman pulled Arktos away by the shoulder. “She will be safe now,” He assured. “In the hands of the Goddess, all are safe.” The guard then took Sula’s hand and led her to the chamber doors. She gave no resistance. She had no fight left in her. The doors opened enough for just the two of them to slide through. In the limited glimpse Arktos had at the inside of the sanctum, he noticed the mirror-like reflection of a sprawling pool.
Sula saw much more. Sandstone walls lined a room the size of a small field. As opposed to the opulent entry chamber, the Goddess’ sanctum was as plain as the temple had been from the outside. A stone platform extended about ten steps from the door, but beyond that the room was filled with water. The sheer scale of the hall coupled with the way the hazy mist of the warm pool floated about and obscured one’s vision would make the most fearless of Argonians wary. Even Sula was intimidated, which was by no means an easy task, for the brave cub had been known to laugh in the face of chomping wolves.
“Now Sula, I must leave, for I, too, am forbidden from bearing witness to the Goddess. Why don’t you wait for her in the water? I have been told if you do so, she’ll arrive sooner.”
Sula nodded and walked out to the edge of the platform. Looking into the pools, she found the water to be unnaturally murky and green. Through the haze, she could make out a darkness caused by the pool’s great depth. Why would the Goddess need such a deep pool? Then, thinking she heard a sliding sound, the darkness began to shift, sending ripples through the still green. She jumped and retreated to the doors.
“I don’t know how to swim,” she lied.
“So be it. She will come regardless,” the guardsman shrugged and took his exit. Once through the double doors, he found Arktos still in the temple’s chamber. Although he pitied the father, he would not dare risk the wrath of the Divine family by allowing him to stay. He gave Arktos a shove toward the door. “Go on! You can’t be in here when the ceremony takes place.”
At the guard’s command, Arktos acquiesced. As he trudged out of the temple, he wished for just one more moment with his beloved cub.