Chapter 18
Birds of Prey
The rising sun glowed on the passengers’ ashen cheeks as they stared at the chaos they’d left behind.
The Port of Cirrha writhed with people screaming for ships to carry them away from the burning city.
Danae was grateful she could no longer see their faces.
The wreckage of Delphi was hidden behind Mount Parnassus, but the sky still blazed with raging flames, and thick clouds of smoke billowed into the dawn.
She forced herself to look away from the devastated mainland.
The tension in her shoulders eased as she glanced around the ship.
Nowhere could she see the red robe of a priestess of Apollo or the maroon cloak of a guard.
Besides that, it was difficult to gauge anyone’s status under the layers of torn, ash-blackened clothing.
All of them, high-and lowborn alike, were crammed onto the same vessel, fleeing the wrath of the Sun God.
With each length of the ship the rowers put between them and Cirrha, Danae’s lungs expanded. She had escaped. She was free.
From what she’d gathered listening to a conversation between the captain and the helmsman, not all the crew had made it aboard. Only five men were spread across the six rowing benches.
The captain clambered between the oarsmen and made his way to the prow of the ship. He squeezed himself up on the platform, so all could see him, and cupped his hand around his mouth.
“Listen everyone! My name is Erastus and I’m the captain of this ship.
We don’t usually ferry pilgrims, so you’re all lucky to be on board.
Do not—I repeat—do not touch any of my stock.
” He wiped his brow. “Look, it’s been a terrible night for us all.
If there are any men able to row make yourself known to Dion.
” He pointed at the wiry helmsman stationed at the steering oar.
“If we’re granted a fair westerly wind, we will arrive at Corinth in around two hours. From there you make your own way.”
His announcement made, he jumped down to the mid-deck and hurried along the benches to speak in a hushed voice to Dion.
Danae turned to Manto. “Have you got any money in that bag?”
Manto frowned, stuck their arm in and foraged around.
“I think there’s a few obols in here...” They paused, their brow wrinkling.
They glanced around the platform then pulled out something palm-sized, wrapped in a scrap of brown cloth.
Carefully, they lay the object flat on their hand and unwrapped it.
It was a piece of obsidian rock. The sunlight glinted off its sharp edges. Through the haze of her memory, Danae pictured the oracle’s chamber and something black and gleaming, lying just beneath the cracked lips of stone.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“It’s a prophecy stone.” Manto quickly wrapped it back in its cloth. “My father used to divine from it. I’ve been waiting to give it to you.”
“It can tell the future?” Danae stared at it as Manto carefully pressed it into her hand. “Have you ever divined from it?”
“No,” Manto said quickly. “My father told me never to touch it with my bare skin, only keep it safe and give it to the last daughter.”
As Danae’s fingers closed around the stone, she felt a tingling sensation through the wrapping. “How do I use it?”
A smile tweaked Manto’s lips. “By doing exactly what my father told me not to.”
Danae began to peel back the cloth.
“Not here.” Their hands closed around hers. They looked around again and took back the stone, careful to keep it covered. “Why don’t I keep it safe for now.” Manto slipped the stone back into their bag.
“Haven’t you ever been tempted?”
There was a pause before Manto replied, “I keep my promises.”
After that they both sat in silence for a while, the murmurs of the other passengers and the crash of the sea wrapping around their thoughts.
“What’s your father like?” Danae asked.
Manto smiled. “He’s...eccentric. I think you’d like him. He doesn’t care much for society’s rules. He believes that foresight should be for everyone, not just those who can afford it.”
“What happened to him?”
Manto sighed and looked up at the sky. “When I was young, we used to travel around Greece. My father would trade a prophecy for a bed and a hot meal. One day he saw a vision in the stone and said we had to go to Delphi, and that he was to become the watcher and wait for the last daughter. He thought he could keep on telling the future in the holy city, but the priestesses—” an edge crept into Manto’s voice “—they didn’t like someone giving away what they charged for. Eventually they came for him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Manto looked at her with fire in their eyes. “We’re going to tear down the whole fucking pantheon.”
Lithos was growling. Danae sat up and rubbed her face. The warmth of the sun had lulled her into a stupor.
“What is it, boy?” Manto stroked the dog’s back, but his teeth remained bared, his hackles raised.
Nothing seemed untoward as Danae glanced across the ship, then back at Manto, who shrugged. All around them was calm, empty ocean. She tilted her head to the sky, shading her eyes against the glare.
Three specks of black blotted the sun. For a moment she thought they were gulls, but as she watched, the shapes grew larger. They appeared to be heading for the boat.
Then a woman shouted.
Next to her, Manto was already standing, Lithos barking beside them. The men stopped rowing. Passengers and crew stumbled to their feet, staring at the dark shapes heading toward them.
Danae’s heartbeat slowed then rapidly sped up again. They were too large to be birds, larger even than eagles, and their shape was all wrong.
The ship had become eerily quiet. She looked around for the captain and saw his jaw fall slack.
Then people began to scream. As quickly as the fire had ravaged Delphi, panic spread through the boat.
Some passengers threw themselves into the water, others fell to their knees, muttering desperate prayers to Poseidon, God of the Sea.
The creatures were nearly upon them. Up close, they were the stuff of nightmares.
Vast leathery wings spread from their lithe, scaly bodies, and their long, muscular legs curved into taloned feet.
There was something eerily human about their snarling faces, matted hair and the breasts that sagged from their chests.
But their keening shrieks were the cries of predators closing in for the kill.
Manto grabbed hold of Danae’s arm, their nails digging into her skin.
“Harpies.”
The three hounds of Zeus. His personal weapons of vengeance.
Icy terror sluiced through her, and for a heartbeat she saw her own fear reflected back in her friend’s eyes. Then it faded, to be replaced by a calm deeper than the ocean that held them. They took hold of Danae’s shoulders and pressed their forehead against hers.
“I know you’re scared, but you must believe me, you are the last daughter. You are the hope of mankind. Find Prometheus and take down the whole lot of those Olympian bastards.” They drew back and squeezed her arms. “If you see my father, tell him the watcher kept their promise.”
Before Danae could reply, Manto pushed her over the side of the ship.
Unprepared for the fall, she hit the water chest first. She floated for a moment, dazed and breathless, blinded by the salt. Then she twisted onto her back, gasping, unable to fill her stinging lungs.
Somewhere above, she heard Lithos barking and Manto shouting, “Tell your master, the end has begun. I am the reckoning!”
Danae blinked frantically, trying to clear her vision. The creatures loomed over the boat like engorged bats, their wings shrouding what was happening from sight. All she could see were glimpses of flailing limbs and slashing claws.
She knew then what Manto had done for her.
They were both of a similar age and appearance, especially now Danae’s hair was cut short and they wore matching seer’s robes.
The harpies would think they got what they came for.
Her instinct was to swim back to her friend, but even if she tried to climb back up to the deck, she would never reach them in time.
And Manto’s sacrifice would be for nothing.
Fighting every urge to cry out and return to the ship, she lay still, floating like a dead thing in the water.
The sounds from above chilled her to the core, screams mingling with unearthly shrieks and the ripping of flesh. Then, just as swiftly as they’d appeared, the harpies rose into the air and flew off toward Cirrha.
Spluttering, her mouth full of seawater, she struck out toward the ship.
Her nails scraped the underside of the boat as she attempted to climb back on, but her fingers kept sliding down the greased hull.
She looked up as red blossomed into the water around her.
Streams of blood were dribbling down the side of the ship.
Frantically scouring the hull, she caught sight of a ladder of pegs bolted into the bow. She swam toward them, her limbs shaking as she clambered up and dragged herself over the side.
The deck was carnage. The blood seemed endless, still pumping from freshly dismembered bodies.
Captain Erastus lay next to her feet, his steaming guts spilled between the benches.
Then she heard Lithos whimpering and forced her legs to move over the collection of broken limbs.
It didn’t take her long to find Manto. They were crumpled where they’d been standing, their chest a gory mess of flesh and bone, the little dog beside them, his fur flecked with blood.
She fell to her knees, the water from her sodden tunic muddling into the wine-dark deck.
The harpies had ripped out their heart.
“Manto...” Tears burned rivets down her salt-crusted cheeks. “I’ll tell your father. I promise.” She pulled Manto’s body into hers, rocking them as sobs shuddered through her.