Chapter 9


    THE TEMPLE


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    Never before Achilles did something, without the High Priest or the Council of the Elders knowing about it. But now it was a necessity. Whether he liked it or not, it was a request from an Olympian. And this demand signified a higher purpose than all the laws of the Brotherhood. At least that was what Nikolaus said… and what Achilles chose to believe in. His conscience was not one hundred percent on board. Something inside him was telling him that this kind of secrecy would lead to unwanted results. But right now none of these thoughts mattered. They had decided to take action and help Olympus.


    Achilles, alongside Anthea, moved silently under the moonlight. It was a weird and unexpected choice but the Ranger insisted. Thalestres did not object. After all, when Anthea was on a mission, nothing could make her lose focus. The two companions were quick. Their steps soft, they quietly passed the guards. Delphi had a curfew during night time. If a civilian was caught walking around the Temple premises, he could be banished. If a member was caught, then they would face at least a month in isolation. So, for their own good, but for the mission too, they should be silent and evasive, like the soft breeze of a summer night. Achilles was the one that moved forward, towards the court, to open the door. Anthea was standing on guard duty, having occupied a rooftop. The young demigod pushed the heavy door and stepped inside. Nobody was there, except for two priests, who were guarding the place.


    “Damn,”  Achilles thought, while many thoughts were racing through his head.


    The truth is that nobody had seen Pythia face to face, except for the Macedonian kings, Philip and Alexander. Though their visit at the Temple was not one to remember fondly, as Achilles recalled one fellow priest said. Phillip had arrived unnoticed, dressed as a commoner and when the priesthood discovered him waiting in the line of commoners, it was already too late. Phillip aggressively, under the threat of violence, entered the Vault of the Pythia. When he exited, he had only one omen:


    “The Bull has been crowned, now it’s the time to sacrifice him”.


    Many thought that this was about the sigil of King Darius, from the House of Achaemenids. Their symbol was a bull. But as Phillip had thought for himself, the Bull was him and the sacrifice would be himself. Sure enough, a few months later, he was assassinated by the same people who predicted his future.


    “We fulfilled the prophecy that we gave,” Dienekes had commented after the killing of King Phillip. “That’s messed up, even for our standards”.


    Alexander on the other hand, had forced himself into the Temple and asked repeatedly for the Pythia to give him an omen. Seeing the aggressiveness of the young king, the Pythia exclaimed:


    “By the Gods boy, you will be unstoppable!”


    Alexander stood there for a second.


    “That’s good enough for me,” he said and left the Temple.


    Achilles had heard many stories about the Oracle of Delphi. He had heard that her body was dead for many years, but Apollo cursed her with immortality. Although she remained her own person, her body on the other hand, would continue to decay. A gruesome fate, from an egotistical god, Achilles thought. All that because this woman chose to reject the God of Music and Light. He sighed. His mind was made up and his steps steady. Even if she was the most horrific creature he had to witness, a servant to a vengeful god that made her this way, he was willing to do this.


    As he entered the main hall, he spotted the two priests and pulled his hood over his head. He had no intention to harm them, but still he was not going to let them identify him. Silently, he sneaked up to his first target. He was holding a cloth in his hand, with some kind of narcotic substance on it. With great agility, he approached him from the back and with one hand covered the priest’s eyes and with the other, covered his nose with the cloth. Seconds later, the first priest was lying unconscious on the floor.


    “Good…,” said Achilles to himself. “One more to go”.


    Before he even finished his sentence, a fireball hit him on his back, sending him crashing on the nearest column. The second priest had found him. He recovered quickly from the hit. He stood and drew two swords, his divine dagger and a spartan xiphos.


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    “Please, do not make me do this,” he said to the priest, changing his voice, so he would not be compromised.


    Instead of an answer, the priest started throwing fire at him. Because of his agility and skill, Achilles was able to dodge the attacks.


    “I had enough!” shouted the priest and he summoned firebolts.


    Achilles was stunned and some of the bolts hit him, with the result of his clothes catching fire. He immediately stood up. In some distance, there was a small pool with water, for the pilgrims'' purification ceremonies. He summoned it and used it to quench the fire from his clothes.


    “Impossible…,” said the priest looking at Achilles.


    With terror, Achilles realized that his hood had dropped.


    “Why son? Why turn against those who raised you?” the priest asked, with his voice almost cracking.


    “Look, I can explain...” he started, but an arrow was shot, right to the priests’ neck.


    The priest fell, in a pool of his own blood and urine.


    “What the hell...?” he shouted and looked at the position of the archer.


    Anthea was on the entry of the Temple, with her bow in hand.


    “WHY?” he shouted at her.


    “He recognized you! He would jeopardize the whole mission! Why is just a thank you so hard to say?” she said back to him.


    “He was a priest, for the Gods! Are you crazy?” he started shouting at her.


    “Shut up and be quiet! They will hear us,” she said, lowering her voice. “Listen, I will deal with the body, and you just go to your Pythia. Alright?”.


    Achilles just nodded and looked at the old man, lying dead at his feet.


    “So be it,” he said with a cold tone.


    Then he kneeled beside the priest and closed his surprised eyes.


    “I am sorry,” he whispered and offered a small prayer to Hermes, to take this soul to the afterlife.


    He got up and looked at Anthea with a stern look.


    “Do something like that again and you will pay for it”.


    But Anthea wouldn’t care less.


    “Just go,” she said.


    Achilles, in a fit of rage, grabbed her and pushed her against the wall.


    “I don’t know what problems you have with me but figure them out. Or I will give you to the Council, to put you in trial. And then I will make sure to see you burn,” Achilles growled.


    Anthea was taken aback by the outburst but found her composure almost immediately.


    “I am saving your life here. I always do,” she said, pushing him away. “You know you cannot do all of this without me”.


    Achilles straightened his cloak and turned his back. After a few steps, he stopped.


    “Can I trust you?” he asked. “Or our past will always get between our professional lives?”


    Anthea didn’t respond. She just picked up the body and went to the doors of the Temple.


    “Just fuck off, Achilles”.


    And she left the Temple, hiding in the blackness of the night. Achilles shook his head in disappointment, letting out a big sigh. But he had a mission to complete, so he put all his secondary thoughts aside. He walked on and he approached the Veil that divided the Main Hall from the Sacred Chamber, from where the high priest recited the prophecies to the pilgrims of the Temple. There, in the middle of the floor, was a steel door trap that led to some kind of basement. Achilles opened it and immediately was drawn back by the foul stench.


    “Damn the gods… They owe me big time,” he said and went down to the dungeon.


    In its depths, imprisoned, was Pythia.