There was a general murmur of ayes.
Their crew, Caspian, and Jagger bent back to the task, working double-time; Sally even deigned to help, breaking off the thickest branches. When only the long, straight tree trunk remained, they set driftwood horizontally underneath and began rolling the future boom down to the boat.
Once there, Locks hacked the log in half as they watched on.
“Shake a leg,” Peg-leg called from the back.
She turned just as he extracted his pistol.
A screech split the air, and Ebba ducked as a huge mass dive-bombed them. Hands over her head, she stared at the creature tucking its five-foot wings in to land up by the tree line on very human feet.
The daedalion had the streamlined head of a hawk. This one was male, his body entirely muscle, a brown length of material tied about his hips. Tawny wings bent in at his back, extending from the crown of his bird head to the ground.
“Are ye all seein’ that too?” Grubby breathed.
Ebba replied, “Aye, matey. There be a hawk-man there.”
“That be a daedalion, all right,” Plank said.
Jagger crouched. “He dropped this.” The pirate held up a bottle. Inside was a curled piece of parchment.
Stubby waved at him. “Go on then, what does it say?”
“Maybe Ebba could have a turn?” Barrels edged in.
Ebba shook her head quickly, shooting a look at Jagger.
Peg-leg sighed. “Not the time for a readin’ lesson, methinks.”
Reaching into the jar, Jagger extracted the parchment and unfurled it, reading aloud.
The pleasure of your company is cordially requested for dinner.
In exchange, you are welcome to leave with one of my beloved trees.
Yours truly,
Medusa
The daedalion didn’t budge from the tree line as Jagger finished. No one budged as each of the crew stared at the note.
“What do I say about things bein’ too good to be true, Ebba-Viva?” Locks asked her.
“That they are.”
Her other fathers hummed in agreement.
“Keep an eye on the hawk-man while we get one o’ the logs latched to the boat. We’ll have to leave the other,” Peg-leg said.
Ebba turned away from the ocean to watch the hawk-man, hand resting on the hilt of her cutlass. Jagger came to stand on her right, the sword clutched in his hands, and Caspian stood on the left, purgium tucked in his belt, just as the dynami was tucked in hers.
“Uh,” she mumbled as dark blotches appeared far beyond the trees. “More o’ the hawk-men are comin’,” she whispered back, uncertain how well the creatures could hear. “I thought there were only two of the things in the story.”
“And I’m guessin’ they’ve had ample time to make children,” Plank grunted.
Ebba’s eyes rounded as she glanced back at the flock of male daedalions currently landing. That was a lot of tea drinking. Impressive.
Jagger stepped closer to her. “There’s a lot o’ them. More than us.”
“They might just be watchin’. We shouldn’t use our weapons unless they attack,” the prince answered him, speaking to her.
Not this again. Why didn’t they just speak to each other?
Ebba hummed darkly, eyeing the creatures’ beaks as more of them landed, boosting their total number to ten. “They have weapons too. I ain’t liking the curve o’ their beaks.” She glanced back. The log was nearly attached to the rowboat.
“Everyone in,” Grubby called cheerfully.
Caspian placed a hand at her elbow to lead Ebba to the rowboat. “Come on, we need to move.”
“Nay,” Jagger said. “They have wings. What do ye think happens when we’re out on the water?”
Valid point that they’d have to figure out on the go. She took another step, and Jagger placed a hand on her stomach to halt her.
White light exploded from their bodies, just for a second, until Caspian and Jagger, seeing what they’d accidentally caused, ripped their hands away from her to break the connection.
But it was enough.
“Shite,” Ebba said, her eyes tracking the straight line where a glowing beam of light appeared a blink ago. The light had pointed into the trees.
The other two stared at the same spot through the gathered daedalions.
More of the creatures landed, and in a row, the hawk-men began to advance to the shore.
Caspian echoed. “Shite.”
Her fathers assembled behind them, but Peg-leg pushed between Ebba and Jagger, the bottle in his hands.
“We’d love to come to dinner, mateys” he said with a broad smile, stopping the daedalions in their tracks. “Tell Medusa we’ll be right along.”
* * *
A piece of the weapon was on the island.
Unfortunately, the hawk-men hadn’t left Ebba and the crew to pick their way through the forest, searching for the part at their leisure.
Ebba trudged behind Grubby, a daedalion on either side of her. The first ten minutes of their tramp through the forest had been ample time to stare her fill at the hybrid creatures and realize their powerful frames and hawk features probably made them a smidgen more difficult to fight than she initially expected. They towered over all of them.
“Where does Medusa live?” Plank asked one of his two escorts at the front.
The daedalion screeched in reply.
“Do you happen to know the thunderbird?” Barrels asked the one to his left. “He’s a good friend of ours.”
The creature ignored him, and when Peg-leg sniggered, Barrels shrugged. “Maybe they know other birds. Worth a try.”
Stubby snorted. “Anything else we should be knowin’ about Medusa, Plank? Beyond her army o’ hawk-men and the snakes on her head?”
“She can hypn’tize ye with her snake eyes,” he called back.
“Oh great,” Locks said sarcastically. “When were ye goin’ to mention that? I was worried they’d just bite us. But she can take over our minds? Not a worry!”
His short fuse was fraying. Ebba glanced back where he walked at the end of their single-file line. “Easy, matey, just don’t look at them.”
Plank’s voice trailed back. “Of course, there are conflictin’ reports. Some say the snakes’ll hypn’tize a person, and others say ye’ll turn to stone. Best be avoidin’ them, I say.”
“Aye,” she murmured with the others.
Caspian murmured from directly behind her. “Ebba, you don’t suppose Medusa has the next part?”
“Probably, aye.” Why didn’t people hide these magical tubes under a rock in the middle of nowhere? If she really wanted to hide something, that was where she’d put it—somewhere no one would ever look.
“That’s my thought,” he replied grimly.
Jagger was behind Caspian and said, “We would’ve had to eventua’ly meet her then, Viva. This is workin’ out fine. We’re bein’ taken right to her.”
“Ye would say that.” She withered over her shoulder
“My apologies, queen o’ the crow’s nest,” he drawled.
Ebba scowled back at him and stumbled. Caspian gripped her elbow, releasing her quickly to wrap an arm about her middle when she overcorrected into him.
The heat of his arm reached her skin through the thin tunic she wore. Ebba could feel him pressed against her back. His lips were by her ear.
A daedalion screeched in her face, one of his wings extending to flap her forward.
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” she said to him. “Don’t get yer feathers in a tangle.”
Ebba started forward again, feeling Caspian’s arm slide away. She hurried to catch up with Grubby, now very aware of the prince at her back and the way his arm had felt around her waist.
The trees were thinning up ahead.
They were led between steaming rock baths filled with cerulean water. The rocks where the water touched had been bleached white, giving the entire area a marbled appearance. It was si
multaneously beautiful and—Ebba could guess—extremely painful should any of them fall in the water. The stone hadn’t managed to keep its color, and Ebba certainly wasn’t as hard as rock. She did like the sweet smell the pools gave off, however; almost as nice as sea salt.
They picked their way through the pools between the two rows of daedalions escorting them. The hawk-men at the front stopped either side of white-rock steps which disappeared underground.
“Medusa doesn’t feel like an open-air dinner, does she?” Stubby asked weakly, whispering to them, “Nothin’ good happens underground.”
Ebba agreed, but the daedalions didn’t seem to share that opinion. They screeched in his face, flapping their wings in a thumping flurry.
Plank led the way down the white-washed stairs, and the rest of them followed suit.
They entered a tunnel that sloped gently downward. Ebba glanced behind, seeing that only one daedalion remained with them now, his head just clearing the top of the passage. The other hawk-men had stayed outside. That evened things up a bit—except that the creatures remained at the exit. But maybe there were other ways to get out.
The floor was rock and dirt. The walls, marbled white and black as though washed over and over with the sweet water outside to streak them. The tunnel was well lit by periodic torches, and as Plank led them farther into the tunnel, Ebba kept a careful eye on the walls, but no other passages appeared to branch off.
Sally gripped the back of her neck, and Ebba hushed her under her breath. “Quiet, Sal.”
The wind sprite shook her head frantically and began squeaking. She burst out from Ebba’s hair in a glowing explosion and hovered in front of her long enough for Ebba to glimpse pure panic on the sprite’s face.
Like a lightning bolt, the glowing ball of light that was Sally zipped past their line and the daedalion, disappearing back up the tunnel.
Ebba watched her go, her heart sinking. “Abandoned by Sally again,” she said angrily. At least Ebba was used to it by now.
She was surprised the coward hadn’t bolted back at the rowboat.
The immortal screeched at the back, turning between them and the escaping glowing sprite. He seemed torn between chasing Sally and escorting them onward.
He chose them.
“She doesn’t like places without wind,” Jagger called softly.
“She manages the hold on the ship just fine,” Ebba shot back.
Caspian whispered, “Yes, but she was terrified of Medusa even before we came.”
Yeah, yeah. Weren’t they all. If the sprite loved their crew properly, she would’ve never left. She and Ebba got on so well between times, enough to make her feel that next time the sprite would be there for her, only to be constantly disappointed. They were all scared of Medusa, but no one else was ditching the others to save their own gullet.
Ebba’s anger occupied her until the tunnel widened into an expansive room with a low ceiling.
Ornate chaise lounges were scattered about, dividing the chamber into loose sections. Lengths of fabric fell from the ceiling to the floor at intervals, obscuring the entirety of the room. Their group weaved farther into the space, and Ebba took in the statues of naked men and women bordering the walls. Pottery sat stacked in teetering towers, coins tossed haphazardly around; paintings were propped against the rocks pushing out of the otherwise smooth floor.
If Ebba had to describe the chamber, she’d say it was a collection. All of a person’s favorite objects strewn around so she might always look upon them.
The daedalion took the lead from Plank, guiding them to the opposite end, past a fountain of wings carved out of the white bleached rock from above ground.
A short flight of white-washed stairs led upward, bright cushions scattered over them at random.
Ebba counted fifteen steps as they ascended.
The space at the top was flat, with a ceremonial feel—like a prism with the top cut off. A large white table sat in the middle of the platform, and more of the gauzy material fell down from the ceiling, cloaking the area with an intimate feel.
At the far end hung the largest painting Ebba had ever seen, a tragic depiction of two lovers staring into each other’s eyes.
At the base of it stood a woman, gazing upon the painting as though nothing else existed.
She also had snakes for hair.
“Don’t look,” Ebba muttered to the others.
The hawk-man screeched, and Ebba quickly focused on the tabletop.
“Is that so?” Medusa asked her servant, turning.
Ebba could feel the pinpricks of one hundred eyes on her. A subtle hissing washed toward them, like the warning growl of a predator. Unable to stop herself, Ebba shifted her eyes to watch the woman’s feet as she glided to them.
Her feet were the same milky spearmint of the shrubs lacing the forest floor outside. Each toe had one or more rings upon it, easy to spot through the translucent onyx material of her gown. Medusa’s jewelry chimed with each step, turning her approach into some semblance of music. A deadlier version of a rattlesnake.
Risking a higher peek, Ebba followed the dress upward; through it most of Medusa’s skin was visible. She took in the stacks of bracelets covering the gorgon’s arms from elbow to wrist before tearing her gaze away.
She peered sideways to make sure the crew was looking down. All of their eyes were fixed on the white-washed rock floor as Medusa glided around them.
“My servant tells me your ship sustained damage during the thunderbird’s latest tantrum.”
“Aye, Lady Medusa,” Plank said, clearing his throat.
Her feet halted before him. “You know my name, pirate?”
“Aye, milady. Ye’re well known outside o’ the Dynami Sea.”
That was laying it on a bit strong.
“Indeed,” she said, resuming her inspection of them. “And you have come to join me for dinner of your own accord.”
No one spoke; Ebba couldn’t be alone in recognizing the tense undercurrent to her statement, nor the way the hissing of her snakes swelled. Why did the really bad immortals always have snakes? Ladon had worn serpents like a bloody scarf. It was as though these magical folks wanted people to dislike them.
Countless candles cast light downward from the low ceiling, and the snakes’ writhing shadows were a moving picture on the ground.
Then the shadows stopped moving. The snakes went limp and Ebba had to stop herself from reaching out to hold the closest hand.
“But you are not dressed for dinner,” Medusa said, her purring voice washing over them anew. “It is not often I have guests. You must dress for the occasion. I insist.”
Peg-leg bowed. “We apologize. Yer servants barred us from returnin’ to the ship to change.”
The snakes lifted high. “You are sure of the truth of your words, pirate? Did you not seek to return to your ship with a tree stolen from my lands? And if not for the beam of light my servants tell me shot directly for my home, would you ever have accepted my invitation? Do not lie to me, mortals. I am a goddess.”
“Ye’re a gorgon,” Grubby said happily.
The hissing cut off.
“Gorgeous,” Caspian said, bowing. “He meant gorgeous, my lady. Just pirate talk.”
Medusa was standing in front of the prince before Ebba could blink.
The goddess dipped her head to his level, but Caspian closed his eyes.
“Gorgeous, you say?” she asked. “But how can you be sure when you have not looked upon my face?” The delicate tone of her question was a thin covering for the dripping venom beneath.
“I can see your body,” he replied. “And your hands. I can hear your voice, and your floral scent reached me as you walked by. I doubt a goddess could disappoint anyone.”
Medusa gave a throaty laugh, circling him. “Your words are silken. A charmer. I always did like a charmer.” She walked to the table, calling back, “But you have nothing to fear from me, mortal male. My snakes do not have the power to harm you.
”
“I hear truth in your words, my lady,” Caspian replied. “However, the risk is great if I should look upon your fair face only to be turned to stone.”
“Would not it be worth it?” she answered.
The prince bowed again. “If I might suggest an alternative?”
The goddess gestured for him to continue, her bracelets jangling.
“You wish for our company, which would surely be more pleasant for you should we not be staring at the table for the meal. We have with us something that will show us if you speak truth. If you consent, we can confirm the truth for ourselves—enough for us to relax in your company. I’m sure it must get tiresome without a companion.”
The snakes went limp again, and Medusa half-turned to the painting of the lovers behind her.
Ebba held her breath.
“You will do this and go change for dinner,” the goddess ordered.
“Aye,” Ebba murmured with the others, watching a few of the daedalions appear at each side. Not all of them were male this time; two females stood among the others, wearing gauzy, gold togas tied at the base of their necks.
Which were the original two lovers? That was assuming Plank’s story was correct. The painting behind the table did seem to confirm his prior tale.
“Bring forth the veritas,” Medusa said, bored.
Jagger jolted and she stared at him. He stared right back. Medusa knew what the sword was called?
“I am aware of the objects you hold,” she continued. “Do not tarry; I desire to eat. You have no idea how ravenous I am.”
Stubby gulped audibly.
Jagger glanced away from Ebba and approached with the sword. Without preamble, he touched the flat of the blade to the goddess’s upper arm, his eyes averted. “Do yer snakes have the power to harm us in any way? By turnin’ us to stone or hypnotizin’ us?”
“No,” Medusa said. “Though I’ve always enjoyed that particular myth when tormenting mortals. And you know, it is a gorgon’s face, not their snakes’ eyes, that can turn you to stone anyway.”
The sword flared white. Truth.
Dynami’s Wrath Page 16
