My legs were burning, and I could already imagine the size of the bruise I would no doubt have on my left hip from the helmet banging against it. The strap for the shield dug into my shoulder with a painful steadiness as the shield seemed to grow heavier with every step. I was beginning to understand why Achilles was always portrayed as the epitome of muscles and Mathias, well, I already knew he was all muscle too, long and lean rather than bulky. I blew out a breath as I blinked away stinging droplets of sweat. Nestor had stopped in a narrow alley cutting between two buildings. In front and above us rose the grass covered slope of Acropolis Hill, or at least the summit.
“Listen, I know you don’t approve or like Myrmidons, and I completely understand. However, if you know of anything else regarding this hidden grove, I would be in your debt if you shared it.” I hesitated and then added very quietly, “Mathias isn’t like what the history books and storytellers have told us to expect from Myrmidons. I believe there are some rather unflattering stories regarding the centaurs too. However, no one counts those against the whole anymore.”
Nestor flicked his tail, but didn’t so much as glance at me. “The ruins here hold the secret of the hidden grove. My people have long held that the grove is hidden beneath the First Ancient Theater. Go down this alley and then turn to your left. You will find yourself in the theatre. When you find the entrance, you should take care upon entering. The guardians of the grove will challenge you, although it is unlikely they will attack you since you are a woman.”
I stared at the centaur. “What species serves as guardian here?”
I had a horrible feeling I already knew the answer. The sinking feeling in my gut tightened into a rock when Nestor stated simply, “The Lamia. Their queen mother claimed the underground grove long ago.”
He left me standing there without another word. He had almost reached the next street when I rushed after him. “Wait! When is dawn here?”
“The sun will rise at twenty minutes to seven.”
I glanced down at my watch. The pale light of a streetlamp illuminated the face. It was already a quarter to four. I had just under three hours to find the entrance to the hidden grove, get myself and the armor down there, leave the armor, and take some apples on my way out. Oh and let’s not forget the sticky little problem of the Lamia queen mother laying claim to this grove. Because we mustn’t have an easy time of it at the end. A low groan escaped me as I forced myself to turn around and walk back to where Nestor indicated I should go. I was probably going to die.
* * *
Chapter Thirteen
Lauren
If I never have to carry pieces of ancient armor up the steep, not to mention hazardous, steps of a crumbling ruin of a theatre again, it will be too soon. After spending fifteen minutes searching the bottom of the theater to absolutely no avail, I decided the only thing to do was to climb up to the crest of the hill proper. The entrance had to be around here somewhere. It was merely a matter of finding it. Or so I kept telling myself.
When I finally reached the top of the hill, it was to find more crumbling stones strewn across the grassy knoll. Nothing that actually indicated there was a hidden entrance to a garden of golden apples somewhere around here. I paced carefully across the topmost part of the rise, then started a second lap that would take me slightly down from the theatre. Just as I reached the midpoint of the ridge, I stepped onto an overgrown patch of weeds only to jump back toward one of the half-sunken marble blocks as a snake slithered out of the clump. My feet came down on nothing. An involuntary scream ripped free as I fell down a hole. All the air was knocked out of me as I slammed into the ground below, banging my head against the shield hard enough to knock me out.
I woke up in the dark lying face down in sandy soil. For a moment, I didn’t remember anything at all before it all came flashing back. I bit back a groan as I forced myself to get to my hands and knees. By some miracle, I hadn’t broken any bones. The weight of the shield was no longer on my back.
My breath caught as the significance of that struck home. I reached blindly for the duffle bag to confirm it was still there. It felt heavy enough, but I didn’t trust touch alone and so I scrambled to find the pocket flashlight I kept in my jacket. The small beam of light didn’t do much to illuminate my new surroundings, but at least I was able to confirm I hadn’t lost all of the armor. The beam traveled over dirt before glinting off the shield’s painted edge.
Crawling over to it, I quickly realized there was no way I was going to be able to get the loose rope properly looped around it again. I was going to need to figure out another way. As I reached for it, my gaze caught on my watch, and I shone the light on the watch face. A ragged gasp escaped me when I saw the time. I had lost almost a full hour between my fall and waking up. I couldn’t waste another precious second, much less minutes, trying to figure out another netting system to hold the shield.
I would just have to do it the old fashioned way. Resting the edge of the shield on my shoulder, I slipped my arm through the center strap and then gripped the handle at the edge of the shield. The shield’s solid weight rested mostly on my upper arm and shoulder thanks to the way the concave design curved, but I still felt somewhat ridiculous carrying the thing. However, at least I was able to carry it.
Feeling more than a little battered and bruised, I went the only way I could . . . forward. The tunnel itself was tall enough that Mathias wouldn’t have needed to hunch if he were with me, but the walls were close enough that I kept brushing against the far wall with the shield. My little flashlight showed only sandy soil in front of me, no hints of the Lamias’ presence. That was far too good to be true.
My ankle tinged as I walked for maybe fifteen minutes until a light appeared at the end of the tunnel. I put away my flashlight, mindful of the clock steadily ticking down on this task, and kept moving. The light grew brighter as I left the tunnel in favor of a large domed chamber. It was almost as if the acropolis had been built up and around another segment of the ancient terrain. Wind blew down from somewhere stirring the leaves of trees. Most of the limbs were devoid of anything besides leaves.
I swallowed hard as I realized some of the rustling I was hearing couldn’t possibly be from the wind. It was the sound of the lamias slithering over grass and fallen leaves. Instinct screamed at me to retreat. It would have been the smart thing to do.
Instead, I walked forward. There were faint trails worn through the grass of the garden, although I tried not to think about who or what had made them. The trees grew older and more mature as I ventured deeper into the garden until I found a circle of them tucked into a grotto, their boughs heavy with golden fruit, and in the center of the circle was a raised stone with Greek lettering carved into its sides.
It wasn’t until I was at the stone that a voice whispered through the grotto, speaking in Greek no doubt. I looked around but whoever was speaking was well hidden by the low hanging branches of the surrounding trees. “I am sorry. I do not understand.”
The sibilant whisper immediately switched to an accented English. “Why does a woman carry armor here? What is it you desire?”
I could not mention Mathias. That was the only thought pounding through my brain as I responded, “I bring the armor to lay it to rest. My only desire is to do so and then leave your grove in peace. Although, with your permission, I would pluck three golden apples from these trees to prove that I have fulfilled my task.”
More rustling in the leaves, the sound of scales sliding over vegetation sending a chill down my spine. A muted hissing conversation in Greek and then the voice spoke again. “Proceed, daughter.”
I bowed in the direction of the voice. “You have my thanks.”
Knowing better than to pluck the apples first, I set the helmet on the raised slab first. More whispers and rustling. I resolutely ignored them as I balanced the shield against the side of the slab and then reached into my bag to pull out the still wrapped spearhead.
“Whose armor have you brought
here?”
I looked up at the sharp question and bit back a yelp as I met the narrowed gaze of a lamia. Her pale brown hair was just frosted with grey and her eyes were the same nut brown shade. A diadem of sapphires and diamonds rested in her hair and dripped over her throat, almost detracting from the small pale green scales adorning her skin in patches along her jaw, neck, and shoulders. Her bronze covered leather jerkin ended just above her waist where pale skin transitioned to the pale green scales of her serpent half. A quiver filled with arrows poked over her left shoulder, and she held a curved horn bow in her right hand. A 9 glittered above her head. The queen mother of the Lamia.
“It is the armor of Achilles. He was rumored to be born here and so I have brought his armor home. To be at rest.”
“You bring the armor of a man into my domain?”
“To restore honor to a soiled legacy. I have already returned Hippolyta’s Girdle to rest with Penthesilea as it should have when she first fell in battle.”
The queen mother moved to my left, curling her tail around so I was still trapped against the stone, her eyes cold and measuring. “You think a man deserves such honor?”
“I am repairing the damage he left. Only a woman would be able to do so, of course.”
The queen mother smirked in response before she waved to the trees behind her. Three more lamia emerged from the shadows, each cradling a golden apple in one hand and a bow in the other. Each of them was a blazing 8 and they slithered past us to place the apples beside the three piece of armor. The queen mother waved a hand toward me. “The required proof you mentioned.”
“Again you have my thanks, your majesty,” I intoned formally with a light bow.
I forced myself to turn my back on the lamia, the back of my neck prickling, as I picked up the apples and stored them in my bag. Then, I unwrapped the spearhead. As I reached to flick back the last fold of cloth, my jacket sleeve pulled up revealing the semi-darkened fox head. There was a hiss behind me and I dove low frantically grabbing at the shield as I wedged myself between it and the stone slab. Something pinged off the shield. Then another. Probably the poisoned darts the lamia were so infamous for, not that the knowledge did me any good stuck between the lamia and a literal hard place.
The queen mother hissed low, “Traitor and fool! You come to save a man! I know that mark, the mark of a Myrmidon bride! You come into my garden for the sake of a man’s love!”
“A life is worth saving, male or female!” I shouted.
She shrieked in response and three more arrows struck the shield, then something heavier smash against it bouncing it out of my grasp. I couldn’t just sit there. They would call a servant or, worse, one of their pet basilisks to finish me off if they didn’t do it themselves. Another thump against the shield and then I looked up to see hands curling over the edge. It was now or never.
I braced my feet as solidly as I could and then shoved forward hard, screaming as I did so. I struck something that bounced away before I connected with the more solid body of the lamia. Then, I pulled back just as swiftly. My ankle threatened to buckle under the sudden movement, but I ignored it as I spun to yank the spearhead off the slab and then spun back to face the charging lamia. The sharp edge of the spearhead cut into the queen mother’s side.
Everything in the central grotto stopped still as the queen mother stared in shock at her wound. She dropped her raised knife and touched the wound, moving slowly almost as though she couldn’t believe she was seeing her own blood. I dropped the bloodied spearhead on the slab and shoved the shield against it.
The lamia were staring at their queen, and I took advantage of their communal shock to leap over their tails. I sprinted out of the grotto as fast as I could, ignoring the sharp jabs of pain sprouting from my ankle. I was only part way through the garden when the queen mother started screaming. Her words were all Greek, but I could guess as to the general gist of her orders. I had to get out of there.
I forced myself to run faster. At least the apples were lighter than the armor, and I was almost free. Mathias was almost free. That was the only thing that kept me going as my lungs burned and my ankle shot more jolts of pain with every step. The rustling was growing louder. I turned and dodged through the trees as arrows slammed into the trunks on either side of me.
Weaving around the trees only seemed to enrage the Lamia further, if that was even possible. The shouts behind me might have been Greek, but the tone pretty much promised they were cursing me with varying creativity. Catching sight of the narrow tunnel’s mouth, I bolted for it only to lose my footing on some loose rocks half-buried in the sand. My ankle gave way, and I hissed in pain before scrambling back to my feet. I didn’t even bother with the flashlight, just ran as fast as I could into the darkness.
I could hear the lamia behind me, their scales scraping against the tunnel’s sides, but they were restricted to coming one at a time. The ground sloped up at a steep angle, forcing me to use my hands to pull myself up even as I kept running. Sweat stung my eyes and my lungs burned as I pushed myself to keep going. I just had to get out of the tunnel. Just had to get out of the tunnel.
The faint hints of light nearly surprised me just before I narrowly avoided cracking my head on a stone overhang. I half-pulled, half-tumbled, out of the tunnel coming to a stop at the feet or rather hooves of two centaurs. Nestor and a female companion stared down at me impassively before their attention shifted to the first Lamia as she rose out of the tunnel. She eyed the two centaurs with an expression that could only be described as utter disgust before she addressed herself to the female. “Give her to us.”
The female centaur didn’t so much as bat an eye as she faced the Lamia. “No. She is under the protection of Cassandra.”
“She is a thief who wounded our queen mother.”
“In self-defense,” I gasped. “And, I stole nothing.”
The Lamia glared at me. “She is a man-loving liar.”
“The treaty that allows your kind to live beneath Acropolis Hill clearly states that you are not permitted above ground. The penalty only grows worse when you attempt to do so in the daylight.” The centauress nodded to the lightening blues in the east. “It is almost dawn, and you clearly have no proof of wrongdoing. Go back to the queen mother and remind her of why your kind is able to survive in the world today. It is not by petty revenge or foolish choices. We know she is a wise queen and will act accordingly.”
For a terrifyingly long moment, the Lamia continued to glare at me. Then, she gave the centauress a hard look before making a rude gesture and slithering down into the tunnel. We didn’t move until the sibilant whispers below faded completely. Only then did I manage to get to my feet. I opened my duffle bag and nearly cried in relief when I saw the faintly gleaming apples. Thank God, they hadn’t fallen out.
Clearing my throat, I tried to hide the anxiety I felt at the signs of encroaching dawn. I wasn’t going to be able to rest easy until I saw Mathias again. Meeting the centaurs’ eyes, I said, “Let’s get back to the others.”
* * *
Chapter Fourteen
Mathias
It was thirty minutes past six. I paced the length of the room the centaurs had placed me in, fighting the urge to barge out of the room and go in search of Lauren. If I had known Lauren would be required to face the lamia, I never would have let her go alone, tradition or no.
My mind kept flashing back to the attack against her in Olympia, Washington. When one of the lamia’s pet thralls had attacked her. He could have killed her, would have easily killed her, and vanished if I hadn’t heard the struggle. The queen mother’s lair. These fools had sent her into the queen mother’s lair!
I was pulling on the locked door before I had quite processed the thought. My hand raised of its own accord, forming into a fist, but I stopped myself before I pounded on the door. Lauren would succeed. She had to succeed.
She was strong. Much stronger than one would imagine for such a little Spotter. I had to remember
that fact. I couldn’t help her by breaking down the door and angering the centaurs. I could only help her by . . . waiting. And, by trusting.
I paced away from the door, growling under my breath, and then rested my hands against the rough stone wall. It was cool to the touch, and I forced myself to focus on the sensation as I strove to combat the ice in my veins. It would have been better if it was soft and warm . . . like Lauren’s skin. I closed my eyes, taking a shuddering breath, before I turned at the sound of a bar being removed.
The door swung open and Demetrius stepped inside. “Come with me.”
The centaur led me out into a courtyard that had been filled with the flickering light of four braziers. Cassandra and the elder were already there as were a dozen other centaurs, all with their bows drawn and arrows nocked. Insurance, I supposed. I approved of the precaution. What’s more if Lauren had failed her task, it would only mean that she had fallen to either the Lamia or the death curse. If it happened, I wanted to follow her into death as swiftly as possible. Anything to keep myself from becoming another monster succumbed by the Biting Ice.
Nestor emerged into the courtyard first, then came Lauren followed by a female centaur. My attention sharpened on Lauren. Dirt smudged her face as well as coating her clothing. There were thin cuts across her exposed skin as though slender branches had struck her. There were also leaves stuck in her tangled hair. My greatest concern, however, was the fact that she was limping.
I moved toward her only to be blocked by Nestor. The elder spoke up. “Move back, boy, and stand still.” Then he turned to Lauren, still speaking in Myrmidon. “Have you completed your task?”
“The armor of Achilles has been returned to the grove.” Lauren frowned as she added, “Although, it would have been good to know the guardians were Lamia.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a golden apple. “One of the three apples given to me by the queen mother of the Lamia after I placed the armor on the slab. Achilles’ armor is at rest.”
Rogue Spotter Collection Page 53
