Catching her head before it hit the pavement, I took in the damage. The pole had entered her stomach from the back and pierced through her body, poking out of the front. I was no healer, but I’d seen enough battle wounds to know that the moment I removed it, she’d bleed out.
My plan—finding the Gold Bank, using their portal to return to Highvale—wouldn’t save her. If she’d had true golden ichor instead of blood in her veins, it would be another matter, but I’d only given her drops the last few days. She didn’t even have access to her own power.
She was going to die. Every fact pointed to it.
I made myself compartmentalize everything else and focus my mind on one single goal: preventing that.
I only had one option.
I stared at the dark sky, calling to every storm on earth and letting them all infuse my body until a thunderstorm gathered right over us, gingerly bringing Silver up onto one of my arms. She was so small, so light. As an afterthought, I made myself call the iron box to my hand as the lightning bolt struck down, coursing through my veins.
I released the power I’d gathered, forming a portal to the only place where I could go.
We appeared in daylight, to a summer sky that was ridiculously peaceful.
Lost worlds were generally quiet.
Overhead, a couple of Sleipnirsons flew with pegasi, their many legs churning the distant clouds. They were playing against a reddish dragon, who seemed to have teamed up with my goats.
They paused to stare at me, neighing or growling as my thunder disturbed their game.
I couldn’t stop, needing to make my presence known as I crossed the slender bridge leading to the floating keep in the distance.
The castle was imposing, if slightly ridiculous. Shining silver, with many towers protected by an entire town that served as ramparts, it had a gigantic helm on one side, surrounded by thestatues of two goats, roughly the size of a mountain. On the other side, there was a hammer.
In my defense, I wasn’t the one who’d built this monstrosity. The lost god whose energy I’d absorbed was responsible.
I was almost at the door when my guest finally answered my loud announcement. He rushed as he spotted Silver in my arm, that pole still sticking out.
“How in Valhalla did you let this happen, Ares?” Apollo snarled, his eyes switching from sky blue to fire as he ran his hand across her chest.
“I’m not the one chilling in my own sun while the next great war’s starting,” I shot back.
We’d never gotten along—in any of our forms. The only reason I let him stay here was because we had a common enemy. For now. Asking for his help would have been as humiliating as it was infuriating, but as I guessed, it wasn’t necessary.
The god of medicine got to work, rebuilding flesh and bone with the same skills and dexterity he used when he sang or played the lyre. I had to admit there was a beauty to his magic, lustrous gold.
Rather than pulling it out, he disintegrated the pole inch by inch while creating brand-new flesh.
Silver was pale. Too pale.
“Will she be all right?”
He took a while to answer. “She lost too much blood,” he said after a while. “But yes, she’ll live. So I suppose I don’t have to kill you.”
I snorted at the thought. “You can always try. That’ll only go well for one of us.”
He directed those fiery eyes to me as I watched his bow materialize by his size. But he redirected his attention to Silver, palm on her forehead as he continued healing her. “Where were her guardians?” the god asked after a while.
I frowned. “Guardians?”
“The hound, the snake. They should have prevented this!” he snapped.
“It’s a bloody pup. We didn’t take her. And the snake’s hanging out with me.”
Apollo muttered in ancient Greek under his breath while cutting his own wrist. I watched him link a tube between them, inserting one end into Silver’s wrist. Soon, golden ichor flowed into her.
“Let’s find a more comfortable spot.”
