Chapter 19 Flight and Fury
The dragon lifted its great head and unleashed a roar that shook Tartarus to its foundations. It had hauled itself halfway out of its watery cage, an orange glow simmering in the cracks between its emerald scales. Then the dragon drew another breath and chased its freedom cry with fire.
The heat was blistering, as were the screams from above. Danae’s head snapped up, eyes searching the spiralling stairs. Relief rippled through her to see Telamon still with Heracles and the Missing, frightened but uncharred, fleeing up the stone steps.
She looked back at the leviathan whose body was swiftly expanding into the cavern. Atalanta’s hand tightened around Danae’s arm as Typhon’s wings bashed against the circular wall, the dragon’s obsidian spines grating against the rock.
‘Come on!’ shouted the warrior, dragging Danae towards the steps.
Danae’s legs shuddered beneath her. She felt stretched, like a frayed rope held by its last strand, but she forced her body to keep moving. Atalanta did not look back at her as they climbed, but she did not let go of her either.
The cavern trembled as Typhon finally writhed free of the water, claws scraping the rock, wings and tail bashing into the walls.
The stone steps beneath them shook again, but this time it was not the dragon.
During its reaches for freedom, Typhon’s claws had ripped through several of the giants’ chains, freeing a clutch of the hulking creatures.
Now they fled, thundering up the steps, sending a torrent of dust and loose stones raining down on Atalanta and Danae.
The warrior grunted and increased her speed, taking the stairs two at a time, dragging Danae with her.
Danae’s lungs felt like they were tearing. She couldn’t get enough hot, acrid air into her chest.
‘The other … Missing,’ she gasped, pulling on Atalanta’s arm as she slowed to stare into the caves. Shades pelted past them, whips and weapons abandoned as they fled towards the entrance.
The warrior glanced back, her jaw tight. ‘We can’t save everyone.’
Then one of the giants above them tripped, breaking through a chunk of the staircase and sending a slew of rocks crashing down on Typhon.
The dragon bellowed and launched itself into the air, attempting to climb, the spines on its sail-like wings raking through the staircases below, obliterating them.
Danae’s eyes widened as its shimmering emerald belly moved past them, so close she could have reached out and touched the burning-hot scales.
Then a claw came crashing through the stairs ahead of them, leaving gouge marks the width of Danae’s head across the cavern wall.
‘Shit!’ Atalanta flattened herself against the rock, her arm thrown out in front of Danae as the dragon slipped back down towards the pit.
There was now a gaping hole where the next four steps should have been.
‘We have to jump.’
‘What?’ Danae rasped.
‘You’ll get there, just put your legs into it.’
She did not give herself time to think as she summoned the last of her strength and ran, then leapt into the air.
She landed with a thud on the other side, her legs dangling towards the pit. Gasping, she dragged herself fully onto the step and rolled out of the way to clear a path for the warrior to jump across.
Time seemed to slow as Atalanta soared through the air. She was like a gazelle, all power and grace, her dark braids flying out behind her.
Then Typhon launched upwards again and the force of the dragon’s cramped wings beating the cavern shuddered the rock. The impact hit just as Atalanta landed and she was thrown backwards.
‘Atalanta!’ Danae lurched forward, hurling herself towards the gap, her fingers closing around the warrior’s wrist as she tumbled over the edge. Danae ignored the pain searing through her shoulder, her entire being focused on the hand clutching Atalanta.
The warrior clung to Danae, her deep brown eyes flecked with fear.
‘I will not let you fall.’ Danae reached her other arm down, bracing her torso and legs against the steps. Atalanta swung up her free hand and grasped it.
A glow, like the blaze of dawn, swelled from the depths of the pit as Typhon opened its jaws.
Danae’s heart thundered. She heaved with all her might, her vision crackling with the effort, as a ball of fire billowed up through the cavern.
As Danae pulled Atalanta onto the steps, the warrior roared, smacking her sandals against the rock to put out the flames licking her feet.
Her lower legs were streaked with raw, blackened flesh.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Danae.
Atalanta moaned.
‘Can you climb?’
The warrior looked up at her, jaw clenched. ‘If you help me.’
Danae slipped her arm around Atalanta’s waist and hoisted her to her feet. Battered and bleeding, the two women clambered the length of the last coil and stumbled towards the entrance passage. Danae could feel Atalanta’s body tensing beside her with each agonizing step.
When they finally reached the entrance passage, she said, ‘I could carry you on my back?’
‘I’m not a child,’ grunted the warrior.
Danae was torn between frustration and relief. She didn’t know if she’d have had the strength.
It looked as though some of the giants had made it out despite the fire and crumbling steps. Chunks of rock had been ripped from the walls, and rubble littered the floor, all covered in a film of black soot from Typhon’s fire.
Halfway through the passage, Danae felt a swell of warmth at her back and glanced over her shoulder. The entrance to Tartarus was brightening.
‘Run!’
With a last burst of strength, they sprinted, Atalanta roaring in pain. Danae felt the skin on her back blistering as they reached the mouth of the entrance passage and threw themselves to the ground, just as a great tongue of fire licked from the stone serpent’s jaws.
She lifted her head, peering around through smoke-stung eyes.
The Missing lingered in a cluster at a safe distance from the entrance.
With them was Telamon, kneeling beside the prone body of Heracles.
There seemed to be far fewer mortals than there had been in the chamber.
At a glance only around two dozen had made it out.
Some stared at Danae and Atalanta, others at something behind them.
Danae turned and let out a sob of relief.
Hylas trotted towards her, his white coat gleaming through the mist. The horse nibbled her ear then whinnied, tossing his head.
Danae began to push herself to her feet but was sent thudding back to the ground by another earth-shattering quake.
She rolled onto her back as the roof of Tartarus cracked open like an egg, and from its depths emerged Typhon.
Finally free of its rock cage, the great dragon unfurled its wings, each one the length of the Argo, and launched itself into the air with a deep, sulphurous roar.
The mist around them was blown away, revealing the River Acheron barely a yard from where they stood. For a heartbeat the air was filled with fire, the waters of the river stained with burning light as the dragon soared away across the plains of Erebus.
Before the brightness faded, the hulking forms of four giants could be seen thundering away along the riverbank. She stared after them, wondering what havoc they would wreak if they found their way to the surface.
A moan drew her attention. Atalanta lay on the scorched ground, curled into herself.
Telamon paced towards them. ‘Is she wounded?’
‘Her legs are burned. They need to be cleaned and bound.’ Danae cast around, but there was nothing save blackened rock.
‘What do we do now?’ The woman who had spoken in the mine detached herself from the Missing.
‘How do we get out of here?’ A man in a once fine teal cloak joined her, wringing his hands.
Danae opened her mouth, then her gaze settled on his cloak. She thrust out an arm. ‘Give me that.’
The man started but did as he was bid.
The fabric clutched in her hand, Danae turned to Telamon. ‘I need a knife.’ Charon’s blade lay with his body, down in the depths of Tartarus.
After a heartbeat of hesitation, the flame-haired man slipped a slender knife from his belt.
A small gasp escaped from the Missing man’s lips as Danae set about shredding the cloak.
She handed Telamon back his blade and gathered the strips of material in her arms, hurrying to the bank of the Acheron.
As swiftly as she could, she plunged the fabric into the salt water, then hastened back to Atalanta’s side.
‘This is going to hurt. A lot.’
The sound that Atalanta made as Danae washed the filth from her burns struck through her like a spear.
The salt water would double the pain, but it would hopefully stave off infection.
Atalanta jerked at each contact with the sodden rag until Danae was forced to ask Telamon to hold her still.
Once she’d cleaned the wounds as best she could, Danae removed Atalanta’s charred sandals and wrapped her feet and calves in the remaining wet strips.
When it was done, the warrior lay still, her breathing shallow.
Danae wiped her hands on her dress and straightened up. A sea of soot-encrusted faces gazed at her expectantly. She thought of the labyrinth of tunnels she and Orpheus had traversed, and the ravine they flew down to find them. They would never be able to get the Missing out that way.
She looked at Telamon. ‘How did you enter the Underworld?’
‘Lake Lerna. We discovered the entrance back when we slayed the many-headed hydra.’
She nodded, her brow creased. ‘Can we get back out that way?’
‘I’m counting on it. Although we might have to wait for the tide. The entrance is hidden in a sea cave.’
‘All right.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Heracles and Atalanta can ride on Hylas, everyone else will have to go on foot. You lead, I’ll bring up the rear.’
A whistling wail whined across the rocks.
Danae’s heart thudded, but she could see nothing except the inky waters of the Acheron and the rocky banks stretching away into the mist.