“Did you hear that?” Medusa summoned her daggers as she peered into the foliage ahead. Nothing moved, not the shadows, not the rays of light spilling past the canopy of trees above; even the wind was still.
“It’s the silence that’s more concerning.” Akrivi already had his sword out. “Map says we’re close, but it's almost as if…” his words faded as Medusa broadened her senses. She zoomed her vision to spot the barest of shifts and strained her hearing to pick the faintest of sounds. Then she heard it, a thump followed by another.
Hooves, but they sounded different, heavier than those of the horse she rode on, and the sound was coming from—
She jerked to the side in the last second, narrowly escaping an arrow aimed at her eye. With equal speed, Akrivi slashed down and cut it in half. She narrowed her gaze. That attack had been aether-enhanced.
Smartly dismounting, she patted her horse and drew it into her dimension. It would be awful to lose the animals to whoever lurked in the shadows.
“Just how large is your pocket?” Akrivi dismounted as well, seemingly unbothered by the sudden attack. “Think it can hold mine too?”
Medusa took his rein and drew the animal in.
“They may also be on horses.” And if they were, then it was impressive. The underbushes ahead were too thick. How had they moved to their positions without a sound? Did they trail them? Since when?
There was also the problem of their location. Too open. Both she and Akrivi were standing in a fanned-out space thanks to the Bush Beater; for some reason, the forest hadn't merged back around them despite the absence of the horses. Her grip tightened around her daggers.
Akrivi stepped closer, sword held up and eyes alert. “You think they’re the Barbaroi?” He whispered.
“Maybe, maybe not.” Medusa resolved to send an attack of her own. She replaced both daggers with a needle, spun aether tightly around it, and flicked it in the direction the arrow came from. Then she waited and waited. Half a minute. No explosion. No disturbance.
Medusa frowned. “Why?”
As if in answer, a rain of arrows darkened the sky and sailed down at impossible speed. Pulling Akrivi, she summoned her dimension just as the arrows fell, each silent save for the muffled thunks as they pierced soft soil.
In the wake of the attack was the glaring flaw of her dimension. Yes, they had escaped getting pin-cushioned, but the arrows that fell where her dimension formed all lay flat, creating a rough circle.
“That would have hurt,” Akrivi said as he picked one of the arrows. It was black, fletched with bright red feathers and tipped with a black glass shard. No aether hummed around it.
“Never seen such a design,” he murmured appreciatively.
Medusa sniffed one of the arrows. Didn’t smell like it was laced with poison, or they may have used something odourless.
The bushes to her left rustled. More thumps of hooves, and just as Medusa looked, she saw them. One, two, three… ten, eleven. Fifteen of them.
“Are those… are those centaurs!” Akrivi asked, aghast. “Those cannot be centaurs.”
His shock was justified. These centaurs differed significantly from the centaurs depicted in bestiaries. Where were their fanged maws? They should have barbed, whip-like tails, flashing red eyes, a carapaced torso, and hooked claws.
Medusa observed this strange variation of centaurs from the safety of her dimension. All were female, stone-faced beauties with svelte torsos. And they were armed with black bows and wore leather armour with an… interesting design. She glanced at Akrivi and wasn't surprised to see he was gawking.
“I am going to offer the box,” Medusa said, returning her focus to the centaurs. “I’d advise you to lessen your gawking when we eventually reveal ourselves.”
A woman suddenly materialised in their midst. Tall, dark, pin straight silver hair that fell to her waist, and similar to Ares, she had various markings across her arms, over her neck and creeping beneath her jaw. But hers consisted of tan lines against dark brown skin. Though she looked totally human, unlike her half-horse companions, her eyes bore a probing sharpness that set Medusa on edge.
Her focus dropped to the circle of fallen arrows.
“They’re horse women,” Akrivi whispered, sounding both worried and excited. “I’ve never heard of horse women. They look angry… and hot. Why do I think they’re hot? I think I’m in trouble, May.”
Medusa could scarcely blame Akrivi; she found their half-nudity distracting as well. Aside from their exposed chest, there was a subtle wildness to their appearance. Most wore their hair long, braided and ornamented, leather arm bands encircled wrists and biceps, and some had tribal shavings across the fur of their… horse half.
“Can’t hear you. Can’t see you. What an interesting trick.” The grey-haired woman’s voice was muffled through the barrier. Although she wore the same odd armour, unlike the rest, her right boob wasn’t out there in the open. She walked on two feet, appeared completely human, but also managed to look the most intimidating in the band.
“You can have this back.” She flicked her wrist, and a tearing sound ripped through the air.
Medusa splayed both palms on the ripping surface of the dimension and desperately poured aether into it, hoping it would hold. And it did hold through the explosion and shockwave before shattering like glass.
Within the blast radius was an intact elevation where Medusa and Akrivi stood unharmed but exposed. She looked up to find that all fifteen centaurs now had their arrows aimed at them.
“What are you doing in these forests?” Grey Hair asked.
Medusa released a shuddering breath as her shoulders loosened. Why didn’t they start with dialogue? “Ares sent us.”
She cocked her head and observed them with blatant suspicion. “Proof.”
Medusa provided the box. Grey Hair gave a sharp upward nod, and one of the centaurs plodded forward.
Now closer, Medusa had to crane her neck to see her face. Two blond braids hung over slim shoulders, sharp facial features, and a deeply condescending stare.
“Give,” she said in heavily accented Greek.
Medusa offered the box in silence and watched her clop back to her leader.
“Did you see that? She looked at us like we were bugs,” Akrivi whispered, voice still excited. “Never in my life have I felt so torn between running for my life and asking for a name.”
Grey Hair opened the box and retrieved a folded piece of paper. She read it once, looked at both of them, and continued reading before fixing Medusa with that stabbing stare.
The box and paper vanished as she faced the centaurs. “Retrieve your arrows, leave no traces and return to your posts.” Then she waved Medusa and Akrivi over. “Come.”
They followed obediently, and the silence remained until the centaurs were no longer in sight.
“Release the horses you trapped. Only those with hooves can find the path.” With that, she transformed. She was smaller than the others, with the only unique thing about her appearance being the hooked spikes behind each hoof.
“Try and keep up,” she said before galloping ahead.
Medusa and Akrivi scrambled to catch up. As the forest made room, she found the race exhilarating with its unexpected twists and turns until Grey Hair stopped so abruptly that Medusa was nearly thrown off her horse.
She scowled. That had to be intentional.
True to Lysander’s words, they were before a portal, and the strangest one Medusa had ever seen. There was no door or bridge to hold it in place; it simply hovered inches above the ground, a black void with twisting glowing green around its edge. Given that Akrivi showed no sign of awe, such a portal may be commonplace.
Without a backward glance, she leapt forward and vanished into the portal. Medusa and Akrivi followed after. This time, it didn't feel like walking through water; more like a blink and she was on the other side, gawking at what loomed ahead.
Akrivi whistled as he stopped at her side. "Is that..."
“It’s the only assumption that makes sense.”
A centaur titan. Reared up, spear thrust in the air, hair wild and long. She was frozen in what appeared to be an enraged shout. At least four hundred feet tall, the white marble was in pristine condition, unlike the other titans she had spotted across Tartarus. Since a titan was here, did that mean they were back in Tartarus?
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
She turned as the smell of the sea brushed her nose. There, on the horizon to her right, was the dark surface of an ocean, complete with a harbour and a floating village. Medusa hadn’t even spent a full minute in this place, and she was already loving it.
“Welcome to Themiscyra.” Grey Hair placed a hand on her chest. “I am Hippolyta, first daughter of Otrera, Queen of the Amazons.”
“I'm Akrivi.” He bowed and flashed a charming smile as he straightened. “I've never met a princess before, and one so beautiful at that. I'm honoured.” He bowed again.
Medusa smothered a laugh when Hippolyta mutely blinked at his bowed head.
“And you claimed to be Antiope?” She asked as she shifted her gaze to Medusa.
“It is the name Ares gave me,” Medusa said.
More of that sharp stare. “Then let's hear from Mother, sister. And do well to show proper respect.” She gave Akrivi a pointed look before resuming her gallop.
Since the portal was situated atop a hill, they went down to the city. Hippolyta was going too fast for Medusa to take in the passing sights properly. But from what she vaguely observed, their architecture was vastly different from that of the Grecian continent. The buildings were mostly bungalows, with red brick walls and black-tiled roofs. Lots of horse sculptures as well.
There were men and women about, all appearing normal save for a few sightings of female centaurs here and there. The rest of the residents blatantly stared, some pointing as they galloped by. A few kids even chased after them, smiling brightly as they waved. Medusa caught herself raising her hand to wave back, then forced herself to focus ahead instead.
They finally reached the most opulent structure so far. Three stories with gold ornament decorating the edges of the roof’s ridge, polished woodwork, and immaculately maintained flowerbeds and lawns. There were no guards and attending servants to take their horses, so they left them in front and trailed after Hippolyta.
The thick double doors swung open to reveal a broad corridor with tall walls covered in colourful mosaic. Still no one around. Hippolyta had transformed into her human form and walked ahead at a brisk pace. Soon, they were before a simple wooden door. She knocked once and waited.
“Is that you, Hippolyta?" Asked a cheerful voice from beyond the door. “Come in.”
The throne room looked more like a too-wide study. A bespectacled woman sat behind piles of scrolls, and as she read from one open scroll, she wrote in another with her left hand. Her hair possessed the same fullness as the centaur titan's; it was dark and streaked with a single line of grey growing from her left temple. Her skin was a deep brown tone, and she wore lots of gold jewellery that reminded Medusa of Clotho. Instead of armour, she had on a simple white chiton.
After writing the final line, she carefully placed the quill in a waiting inkwell, wove her fingers beneath her chin and observed them.
“Hmm.” She narrowed warm brown eyes as she looked from Medusa to Akrivi, then back to Medusa. “Show me what he gave.”
Hippolyta passed the box. She read the first letter, reached for a second and read it with a smile that grew until she was cackling.
Wiping a tear from the corner of her eyes, she withdrew a vial from the box Medusa instantly recognised. Blue tears. It sparkled in her hands as she held it in the light and shook it. Then her gaze slid to Medusa.
“What possessed Ares to say you're my daughter?”
Now that Medusa saw Otrera’s appearance, she also wondered. There wasn’t the slightest chance that they were related, from skin tone to hair type, everything was different.
When she stood, Medusa saw she was at least 6’6 tall. Walking around her desk, she didn’t stop until she was in front of her.
“Ares said something really interesting there.” The corner of her lips kicked up. “Something about you doing the impossible. Even whispers of war.” The last part was a literal whisper. “And this boy.” Her gaze shifted to Akrivi. “You have brought trouble to my doorstep.”
Akrivi appeared surprised to be brought into the conversation so suddenly. “Trouble?”
“There.” She nodded at the box. “The Moirai, our mother who sees all, says the one who sired you shall come in search. Permitted by Zeus himself.”
Colour leeched from Akrivi’s face as he took a backward step. “It can’t be. I… Demeter said there is a… my custody—”
“That impossible thing Ares said.” Medusa met Otrera’s eyes. “I swear to do it. Just ensure Poseidon doesn’t have his way until then.”
Otrera held her gaze for a heavy moment, then grinned so brightly it was blinding. “Such spirit. I like you. But I've already been bribed for that.” She tossed the vial and caught it sharply. “Rest today. Tomorrow I shall see what you’re made of.”
“What do you want?” Athena spat the question the moment Poseidon stepped into her private chambers.
She was reclined in a chaise, wine within reach and a bound text open on her lap. At her feet was a fragile-looking girl, blankly staring ahead with eternally blind eyes. Tattooed across her arms were markings Poseidon instantly recognised. A sorceress of death.
How Athena managed to create one, Poseidon couldn’t tell. It was one of the things she had shown him to gain his support. Now? He wasn’t so sure.
“I made a request. Zeus would soon send for you.”
At his words, she lifted her eyes and glared at him so hatefully that he laughed. “You know I’m not your enemy, Athena. I needed something, something you couldn't give me yet. I needed Zeus’ legitimacy.”
“Allow me to hazard a guess.” She slowly straightened, allowing her bare feet to touch the marble floor. “You wish to have that boy.”
Groaning internally, Poseidon collapsed into the seat across from her. Why does she have to be so irritatingly knowing? His gaze fell on the little sorceress and lingered.
“Stop looking at my things.”
He chuckled and leaned more comfortably in his seat. “There’s no harm in looking.”
Scowling, she grabbed a goblet. “So, am I correct? This has to do with your son.”
He wouldn’t have even wanted the boy if the thought of getting him back hadn’t stirred some emotions in him. Greed and a consuming desire to make a mockery of the justice Demeter so thoroughly toiled for.
That boy. His somewhat brilliant mind couldn’t have come from his whore of a mother. She had been incredibly air-headed, with her face and body the only things she could boast of. She wasn’t even as strong-willed as Rea, who remained unbroken no matter the torment.
“Yes, it has to do with my son,” he finally answered.
Athena brought her cup to her lips and rubbed it back and forth as she stared into space. “Tell me what you told Father. I know you’re not foolish enough to expose all we’ve done so far.”
Poseidon smiled on the inside. Too cautious, this one. “The girl you killed.”
“Which one? Be specific.”
“Ares’ first contender.”
Her gaze snapped at him. “And what about her?”
“On the day your boy…um. What’s his name?” Poseidon pretended to struggle to remember.
“Perseus,” she replied with false calm. “What about him and that day?”
“On the day he attacked her, I witnessed something interesting. In the moment it took to blink, her body flickered, and she bore the exact appearance of Phorcys’ brat.”
“What?” Her cup swayed in her too-tight grip, causing red to spill over her knuckles.
Poseidon chuckled at her reaction. That’s real fear there. The whole plan hinged on that child.
“And you didn’t think to come to me with this news immediately?”
“As I said, you don’t have legitimacy. Demeter can be… wicked. I must have taught her well,” he added with a derisive laugh. “Anyway, I met our dear father for a deal, and he offered a good price if anything interesting arises.”
Athena shot to her feet, her goblet vanishing. “Tell me this instant. What did you find? But she’s dead. I had my people confirm.”
Poseidon nodded. “I did too. But,” he raised a finger and smiled. “When I returned to steal her body, you wouldn't guess what I found.”
“Get to the point,” Athena spat, expression now thunderous.
“I found nothing. An empty grave. Of course, I couldn't confront Demeter about it.” He leaned forward, fingers clasped between his knees. “Do you not find it strange? Consider that day I saw Ares visit Ceto. Something completely out of character.”
Athena grew still. “Did you give this news to father?”
“Of course.” Wearing a fat grin, he leaned back into his seat and wove his fingers behind his head. “I want my son. But don’t worry, I mentioned nothing about Ares visiting Ceto.”
The tension in the air vanished. “Good.” She nodded firmly. “That’s good foresight.”
“I'm not an idiot.” He shrugged. “My son is with Ares. Would it be a problem retrieving him?”
She waved nonchalantly. “After I confirm with Father, I shall visit and do the needful.”
A lull of silence with a question scratching and scratching until Poseidon couldn’t help but blurt it out. “How did you do it?”
“Do what?” She reclined once more and retrieved her goblet.
“You know what I mean,” he snapped, irritated at her pretend nonchalance. How did she do it? Making Zeus favour her the most among all the gods. The worst was his entrusting her with something as crucial as Phorcys’ cursed child. How?
“How did you keep getting your way with Zeus? How did you make it so that Ares submitted in the end?”
“Do you ask because you don’t know?” She looked at him as if she pitied him. “You’re simply not desperate enough. Not… worshipping enough.” She made a fist, a look of mock determination on her face. “You need to do more. Kiss his foot with more gusto.”
“To the fires with you.” Poseidon cursed in the wake of her mocking laughter.
A look of seriousness suddenly overtook her features. “I have decided to hasten things.”
“Hasten what?” Poseidon flexed his fingers. He missed Rea’s presence at his side, though now she had grown considerably thinner. Bones poking here and there, but she still felt warm at least.
“With the child. Medusa. I should take her to my temple. Perhaps next year?” She sounded contemplative.
“Wouldn't she be too young for the inferno?”
Athena waved. “It may be better.” A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Such an innocent thing suddenly thrust into the inferno. Her curse may even awaken to something deadlier. Think about it.”
Poseidon didn't particularly care. His part was to step in on cue and do the needful. Athena had sworn by the Monolith to fulfil a singular request once she seized power; nothing else mattered.
“Would Phorcys not protest?” Ceto was too spineless to whisper resistance, but Phorcys was a different matter.
“That’s if he can get the word out,” she said dismissively. “I’ll beg father to bend the rules. See if we can go for a closer date.”
For a moment, Poseidon imagined how the once mighty Phorcys would react when Athena’s plan played out. Will that unflappable facade finally break? If only I could be present to drink in your reaction when you learn the truth… if only.
“Congratulations on the fight,” Poseidon said, changing the subject. “That priestess of yours, you're certain she'd win the Games?”
Athena laughed, her aura flaring brightly around her. That was true happiness and anticipation there.
“Of course, she’d win. Father promised she'd be the only goddess amongst ants.” Her smile lessened, but was still as bright. “For a moment, I thought Ares would ruin these years of careful planning, but everything is back on track.”
Poseidon hummed in agreement, but doubt still lingered in the background. He was absolutely sure of what he saw that day. That child…
I should pay Phorcys a visit.
On a random note. Since I can remember, I've always been on the side of the predator when watching wildlife documentaries. Told my sis recently, and she said I'm the weird one. I disagree, so I left a poll.
A very merry Christmas to those who celebrate. Until Saturday.
Whose side are you on when watching a wildlife documentary?
