Megan looked at the farm. It was quiet and empty. The fire was black and cold, not even a smoldering ember was left. Even the animals were gone.
Weird. Wonder where everyone went? She didn’t have time to think about it; Rachel pulled her arm and dragged her away.
The path led to the water. The ground changed from soft green grass to coarse yellow, then to sand. The girls followed the beach around the base of the hill, watching gulls swoop and dive over the water. Slowly the island came into view.
What seemed so small and far away from the top of the hill turned out to be quite large. Trees grew thick and tall over most of the island; it looked like a jungle. A peaked white stone roof was just visible over the treetops.
“Are we sure this is it?” Rachel said.
“Only one way to find out,” Megan said.
“I see a boat,” Harriet said. “Over there.” It was a rickety wooden rowboat, the wood gray from the weather. It was tied to a small outcropping of rock with a length of frayed, rough rope. The boat banged rhythmically against the rock, torn between the current trying to take it away and the rope pulling it back. Two oars, so weathered they looked like splinter farms, lay in the bottom.
“Can we all fit in that thing?” Harriet said. “It doesn’t look very seaworthy.”
“I think only two of us will fit,” Rachel said. “The other two will have to stay here.”
“So who’s going?” Megan said.
“Hmm, the chance to face an ugly creature that can turn you to stone with a single glance and try to lop off its head?” Harriet said. “I’ll pass, thank you.”
“Claire?”
Claire crossed her arms over her chest. “As tempting as it is to actually go and see a Gorgon’s lair, I think I’ll have to pass as well. I’m not too keen on the sight of blood. It makes me pass out. Plus I get seasick.”
“It’s just you and me then,” Rachel said to Megan. “Ready?”
Megan couldn’t believe how quickly they came up with excuses. They probably thought about it all the way down the hill. What would they have done if there had been a bigger boat? But she supposed it was only fair that she be the one to find the monster. They wouldn’t have been here at all if not for her.
“I guess I have to be.” She squared her shoulders and stood tall. “Let’s go.”
Megan held Rachel’s hand to steady herself as she climbed into the boat. Claire helped Rachel in, then leaned over and untied the line.
“Good luck,” Claire said, and waved to them as they rowed away.
“Thanks,” Megan called back, trying not to sound too sarcastic. She and Rachel sat beside each other in the center of the boat on the bench seat. Each held one oar and paddled as hard as they could against the strong current. Megan concentrated on the steady rhythm of rowing; it took her mind off what lay ahead. Soon her arms were tired and her palms sore.
“How…much…further?” she said between strokes.
Rachel looked over her shoulder. “Not much. Another few good hard pulls and we should make it.”
“I hope I have strength left to get out of the boat,” Megan grunted. The boat hit something and stopped.
They made it. Rachel put her feet over the side and slid into the water, then held the boat steady so Megan could get out. They tossed the oars inside and together pulled the boat up onto shore.
“How are we going to find Medusa?” Megan said. “Without her seeing us first, I mean?”
“You’re asking me?” Rachel wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of one hand.
“Well, yeah, you’re the one who remembered the story.”
The girls walked across the beach to a path that led to the interior of the island. The greenery was as thick as it looked from the opposite shore, and the canopy of leaves above them quickly blocked much of the sun, layering deep shadows across the path. They walked about half a mile when Megan saw something ahead that wasn’t green.
“Rachel, stop,” she whispered. She grabbed the back of Rachel’s chiton and pulled her off the path and behind the trunk of a large tree.
“What is it?”
Megan pointed ahead. “Look.”
The jungle ended, but the path continued up to what looked like a garden. A low wall made of short, smooth columns and a flat-top rail ran to the path and jumped it, leaving a space to enter. There was no gate. If indeed it was a garden, it was not well kept. Tall grass and weeds grew wild among the few flowers that bloomed in the patch of sun that covered the area.
That was not what made Megan stop. Past the wall and between the weeds, statues dotted the garden. While not unusual in itself, these were not arranged in any particular way, but scattered. Like the garden, they were not well kept. Some were wrapped in creeper vines, and some had no heads or only one arm.
Of those that were recognizable, most of the statues were of men in armor; a few had one arm raised, spear or sword in hand. The faces that Megan could see all wore the same look of terror and surprise. It exuded an air of foreboding, and Megan realized that suddenly the forest around them was silent.
“It’s weird,” Megan said. “Who would arrange the statues that way? And why soldiers? Why not goddesses, or something else pretty?”
“That’s Medusa’s garden,” Rachel said softly. “Those are not just statues. They’re her victims, the men that came to find her and got turned to stone. We’re definitely in the right place.”
“How are we going to get her?” Megan said. “If all those soldiers couldn’t do it?”
Rachel leaned against the tree and closed her eyes “Oh! That’s it!” She walked into the woods.
“What are we looking for?” Megan hopped over a large branch that lay on the ground.
“The weapons that we’re going to need to defeat Medusa.” Rachel moved between the trees, searching the ground and the lower branches. “We’ll know them when we find them.”
“How do you even know they’re out here?” Megan kept a watchful eye on the garden. “And what are they?”
“Because the clue and Sir Gregory’s instructions say so. The book said knowing what we’re supposed to do would help. And the clue said we’re to follow Perseus’ footsteps. The reason Perseus was able to kill Medusa was that he had help.” She stepped around a large oak tree. “Gifts from the gods.”
“Gifts from the gods?” Megan said.
Rachel unhooked the hem of her chiton from a downed tree branch. “Don’t you remember? Athena gave him a mirrored shield, so that…ah, yes, here they are.”
She waved Megan over. Leaning against the tree was a large, shiny round shield with an owl embossed in the center. Beside it stood a long, sharp-looking sword.
Rachel handed the shield to Megan and picked up the sword. She tried to swing it in front of her. “It’s pretty heavy. It’s going to take two hands to get the job done.”
Megan shivered. “I still can’t believe we’re going to cut off someone’s head.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but we’re inside a book,” Rachel said. “This is all a figment of Sir Gregory’s imagination. We have to play along if we want to get out of here.”
“Yeah, but if we get turned to stone, that’s it. Game over. How are we going to get near that Medusa thing? She’ll see us coming a mile away, and then we’ll be sunk.”
Rachel looked at the sword. “Something’s missing. Two somethings.” She walked around the tree. “Where are they? They should be here too, somewhere.” She went off again, searching.
Megan extended her arms, palms to the sky, exasperated. “What are you looking for now?” She glanced at the bizarre garden, just visible through the woods. “We shouldn’t stay in one place too long if we want to have the element of surprise. We should get moving.” She figured as long as she didn’t stop and think about what they were doing, she’d be okay.
“We will.”
Megan turned around “Rachel,” she said in a panicked whisper. “Where are you?”
Megan jumped and spun around. “Where? I don’t see you.” Oh. My. God. I’ve lost her. I had a sleepover, and we got sucked into a book, and now Rachel has disappeared into thin air. How am I going to explain this to her mother?
Rachel giggled, off to Megan’s left, and suddenly appeared out of thin air.
“What’s wrong with you?” Rachel said, holding back her laughter. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Megan’s mouth hung open. “How did you do that?”
Rachel tried to look innocent. “Do what?”
“You were there, then you weren’t, then you were again. How?”
Rachel held up a large piece of red brocade cloth. “The cloak of Hades. It makes the wearer invisible. Another gift from the gods.”
Megan’s eyes widened. “So if we wear that, we’ll be able to sneak up on old stone ugly.”
“Exactly.” Rachel reached into the tree and pulled down a smaller piece of cloth. “And this is the bag that we put her head in.”
“Oh, now, that’s just gross.” Megan twisted her face into an expression of disgust. “Why would we want to take her head with us?”
“Because that’s how the story goes,” Rachel said. “And if the bag is here, I assume we’re going to need it. Come on, let’s go.”
Chapter Seven: Medusa’s Head
Megan, shield and sword in hand, walked back to the path. Rachel took the cloak and bag and followed close behind. When they reached the edge of the path, Rachel threw the cloak over both of them. It wasn’t quite large enough; they had to stay close together to fit. They half-walked, half-shuffled down the path and into the garden, Rachel breathing heavily in Megan’s ear. Their footprints pressed the grass, the only sign that anyone was in the quiet, sunlit garden.
Rachel stumbled and almost fell. “Ow.”
Megan clamped her hand over Rachel’s mouth.
“What was that for?” Megan pulled her hand away slowly.
“I kicked something. It was hard. I think I broke a toe. Stupid bloody sandals.”
Megan looked, and in the middle of the path was a small stone rabbit. He was alert, ears straight up.
“Poor thing,” Rachel said.
Megan swallowed hard. “We’d better keep going, or it’ll be poor us. Just pay more attention to where you put your feet.”
Both garden and path ended at a short set of steps in front of a small granite house. The gray structure had a peaked roof, but no windows and only a dark rectangular opening that served as a door. Like the garden, the building had seen better days. Ivy and creeper vines covered the walls, which were cracked and crumbling. Megan grasped Rachel’s hand and together they crept up the steps and stopped just outside the door.
“It’s so dark in there,” Megan whispered. “I can’t make out anything.”
“Well, don’t look too closely. Who knows where Medusa is. Use the back of the shield to look around.”
“Oh. Good idea.” Megan took the shield from Rachel and held it in backwards. The polished, concave back acted as a mirror. She stood to one side and turned the shield so that it reflected the interior of the building. She couldn’t see much, only a few feet of floor and the edge of another statue. “I don’t see her.”
“Maybe she’s not at home.”
“Yeah, right.”
As if in answer to Rachel’s comment, a slow, rhythmic sound, mixed in with occasional pig-like grunts came from the other end of the room.
“Crud,” Megan said.
“We have to go in,” Rachel whispered. “But be careful. Look at the floor and follow me. And be quiet.”
Rachel led Megan inside. It wasn’t completely dark, like they first thought. A few torches in wall brackets threw about a dim light that flickered and danced.
The building had a single-room. Megan looked in the shield, but saw only more crumbling statues scattered across the cracked and dirty tile floor. She dragged Rachel farther inside and to the left, behind a large pile of rubble that might once have been a woman with long hair. The sound got louder. Megan resisted the urge to peek. Instead she stuck the shield out again and rotated it slightly to get a better view of the back of the room.
She almost dropped the shield.
Medusa lay on a chaise of stone. Her hair, just as the story told, was made of green serpents that moved and slithered on her head. Their tongues darted about, their teeth bit each other. In the low light Megan couldn’t see what Medusa was doing, but she didn’t move from the chaise.
Megan took a deep breath and tried to get her racing heart and trembling hands under control. They would have to be quick. Sounds traveled in here, and it wouldn’t be long before Medusa figured out that she and Rachel were there. They still had the advantage of invisibility; that was something. Megan wondered if the cloak would repel Medusa’s glare. Somehow she didn’t think so.
“Close your eyes,” Megan whispered in Rachel’s ear. “Hold onto my hand, tight. Whatever you do, don’t look up until I say.”
Rachel only nodded. She clamped her eyes shut and grasped Megan’s outstretched hand. Megan put the hilt of the sword in Rachel’s empty hand.
“No way,” Rachel hissed. “I am not cutting off her head.”
“Fine, we’ll shoot for it. Rock, paper, scissors. Best out of three.”
Megan lost.
Beautiful. I guess it’s only fair. I promised myself I’d make it right, right? It’s all up to me. “Okay, let’s go. Hold it for me, though, would you? I’ll take it from you when it’s time. And don’t drag it on the floor.”
They tiptoed around the rubble. A row of statues stood on the other side of the room. Megan led Rachel there, and they used them as cover to move toward where Medusa lay.
Megan stopped Rachel behind the last statue, a tall, chiton-clad maiden with flowing hair and an expression of utter horror.
“Okay, Rache, open your eyes,” Megan said. “But look at the floor.” She dropped Rachel’s hand and took the sword.
“How are we going to do this?” Rachel’s eyes were glued to the cracked tiles beneath her feet. “We can’t both stay under this cloak and get to her.”
Megan handed Rachel the shield. “I’ll stay here. You take the cloak and sneak back around to the other side. If you’re quiet you won’t have to go all the way around, just cut through the middle of the room. Stand over there.” Megan pointed over her shoulder. “In that corner. When I give the signal, you throw off the cape. Hold the shield in front of you, with the shiny side toward me. Whatever you do, do not open your eyes. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Rachel looked skeptical. “But what if Medusa sees you? You’ll be unprotected without the cloak.”
“There’s no other way.” Megan gave her friend a smile that she hoped covered her own fear and doubt. “Now hurry up, before she figures out we’re here. I’ll count to 100; that should give you plenty of time.”
Rachel hesitated. “Meg, I still don’t know—”
“Go.” Megan pulled the cloak off of her head and left Rachel covered. “I’ll be fine. I won’t look at her—I promise.” She heard Rachel’s feet scuffle once or twice, watched the little puffs of dust that marked her footsteps as she moved away. Megan pressed her back to the statue and started to count. She closed her eyes and twisted the grip of the weighty sword in her hands.
Was she really prepared to cut off someone’s head? It was a horrible thing to do. This is only part of a book, only a story. And Medusa isn’t really a someone, is she, more like a something, one that would readily kill both me and Rachel if given the chance to add us to her collection.
This was the only way for Megan and her friends to move forward, to get home. Right? She steeled herself against any sympathy she might feel for the monster, tried to push it out of her head. She could do this.
I can do this.
Seventy-five. Megan tightened her grip and thought about her father.
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Ninety-five, ninety-six.
She picked up a stone from the floor. It was a hunk of marble, probably a chip from the statue. The statue that had once been a person, perhaps, not unlike her or her friends. She focused on that.
One hundred. Megan threw the rock back and toward the door, making sure it bounced off the floor. The sound echoed. Megan held her breath and hoped that Rachel recognized the signal.
She stepped out from behind the statue, her eyes on the floor about six feet ahead. She looked for Medusa’s feet, and found them. Both still rested on the end of the chaise nearest to Rachel.
Medusa hadn’t moved, not an inch. She took a step closer. The breathing sound continued, slow and steady, with an occasional grunt.
Why hadn’t Medusa moved? She should have heard the stone hitting the floor and gotten up to see what it was. If not, she should have at least seen Rachel by now, standing at the foot of the chaise.
That had been Megan’s plan, for Medusa to be distracted by the stone or Rachel, while Megan snuck up behind her. Megan had planned to hit the Gorgon in the head with the end of the sword first, and knock her out before she cut off her head.
Megan raised her eyes. Rachel was right where she should have been, shield in front of her, eyes on the floor. In the mirrored face of the shield Megan had a perfect view of Medusa’s reflection.
Medusa was asleep! Megan couldn’t believe their luck, but still didn’t understand why she hadn’t woken up when Megan threw the rock. Maybe she’s a heavy sleeper?
Megan looked closely at the reflection. In one hand, Medusa limply held a golden chalice; there was a strong odor of wine hanging about her head.
I guess she can’t hold her liquor. Good luck for me.
Megan relaxed a little; this would be easier than she thought. Her steps soft, she moved next to the chaise. Medusa’s head was directly to her right. She continued to watch the reflection in the shield and prayed that Medusa wouldn’t wake up. She hoisted the sword up and rested the flat of the blade on her shoulder, and turned to face the sleeping monster.
Megan raised the sword over her head. She took another glance at the reflection, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She hesitated; what would her mother think of this? There was no more time to think—she couldn’t hold the heavy sword any longer.
LA01. The Crown of Zeus Page 9
