Chapter 22 Echoes
She was lying on a slab of marble. High above, polished obsidian walls stretched up to a ceiling shrouded in darkness. The air was close, the reek of decay permeating through the windless space. There were no windows. Nothing in this place had ever been warmed by the light of day.
The cold bit into her skin, but she could not move. She tried to scream, but it was like she was trapped inside a carcass laid out on a butcher’s block. Even her eyes were fixed, forced to stare up at that never-ending ceiling.
Mist began to curl across the edges of her vision. Its cloudy breath prickled her flesh, raising the hairs on her arms. It drifted over her face, and for a moment she thought she had gone blind, then she saw shapes moving within it, looming over her through the fog.
‘Were you made or were you born?’ The words lingered, as though caught in the mist like flies in a spider’s web.
Pressure began to build inside her, a cry that could not be released.
The figures leant closer. Two pairs of tusks pierced the fog.
‘We have been made before and we shall be made again.’
Danae’s ears thrummed with hissing as a tangle of snakes swam from the mist. Then the faces of the two gorgons pressed in, their rancid breath hot on her freezing cheeks.
She could do nothing as they reached for her, their lips stretching back to reveal sharpened teeth.
But just as their fingers were about to touch her skin, they vanished.
Her heart was thumping so fast, she was sure it would burst.
Then she felt something that stilled her pulse entirely.
Fingers creeping through her hair, tracing pathways across her scalp.
No, it could not be. She’d watched Typhon, the dragon, char him to the bone.
‘Hello, little Titan.’
Danae woke, gasping. Pain spiked down her left arm, and she clutched it so tightly, her nails dug into her skin. The ache lingered, shooting down to her fingertips as she pushed herself up. She must have fallen asleep on the limb.
Pale moonlight spilled in through the doorway of Metis’ hut, shadows pooling behind the stacks of pottery and burned-out fireplace. Metis herself was still hunched over Heracles, her hands laid upon his torso. She rocked gently as she worked, muttering under her breath.
Even as Danae watched her, she imagined the cold, thin light came not from the moon, but from the star crystals in the false sky of the Underworld.
She became acutely aware of the stone wall of the dwelling, chill against her back.
The cloying dampness of the earth and rocks swelled in her nostrils.
Then her pulse quickened, her lungs expanding and contracting as though she were sprinting for her life.
Reality bled away, and she became sure she was underground again, buried under all that soil and stone.
Terror swallowed her whole. She had to get out, or she would suffocate.
Staggering to her feet, she lurched out of the hut. But even the dark expanse of sky and the biting chill of the wind could not free her from her cage of fear. She fell to her hands and knees, desperately sucking in air.
Pegasus, woken by her, trotted over from where he’d been sleeping and gently nudged her with his muzzle.
His presence tethered her to reality, drawing her back to the island breath by breath.
When her head had stopped spinning enough for her to move, she reached for him, dragging herself up to wrap her arms around his neck.
Pegasus waited patiently as she sobbed into his coat, resting his head over her shoulder while her heartbeat slowly returned to normal.
‘You all right, girl?’
Danae lifted her face from Pegasus’ neck. Metis was standing in the stone doorway. She looked haggard.
‘Yes,’ Danae lied, wiping her cheeks and stepping away from the horse. ‘How is Heracles?’
‘He’s alive. Just. The next few hours will be crucial.’ Metis’ eyes swept over her. ‘You should eat something.’ She disappeared back inside.
Danae gave Pegasus an encouraging pat. ‘I’m well,’ she whispered. ‘I promise.’
The horse tossed his head as she walked back towards the dwelling, each step an effort. She was so exhausted she could no longer feel anything. In a way, she was glad. Numbness was preferable to fear.
She lingered before the doorway. The entrance seemed to gape at her like a great, toothless mouth. Summoning the last crumbs of her strength, she stepped inside.
Metis thrust a bowl and waterskin into Danae’s hands before returning to her vigil at Heracles’ side.
Danae drank then looked down at the contents of the bowl. It appeared to be filled with dried cicadas.
‘Eat, you’ll feel better.’
Danae tentatively crunched one between her teeth. It was surprisingly nutty. After a few mouthfuls she did start to feel more human.
‘Which one of them put that on you?’ asked Metis quietly, staring at the collar.
‘Hades,’ Danae murmured.
‘Hm. You’re lucky that’s all he did.’
‘He’s dead,’ Danae said sharply.
‘And I suppose you killed him too, did you?’
‘Not exactly. Charon, the ferryman, set free the dragon imprisoned in Tartarus, who burned him to ash.’
‘That’s quite a tale.’
‘No stranger than a godlike being living in exile on a barren spit of land.’
Metis huffed a breath through her nose and checked Heracles’ pulse.
‘Why did Prometheus tell me to seek you out?’
For a while it seemed like Metis would not answer, then eventually she said, ‘For the same reason the Children of Prometheus came to me. Because I opposed Zeus. A long time ago.’
Danae recalled what Phineus, Manto’s father, the seer, had told her about Prometheus, that he had seen the downfall of the gods in the omphalos shard and along with his prophecy, had given the stone to mankind so they might rise up against the tyranny of the Twelve.
‘You were on Prometheus’ side? On the side of mortals?’
Metis shook her head. She reached across to a stack of bowls and slipped her hand between the third and fourth, pulling out an amulet. At first, Danae thought it was a twin of the one Dolos had carried, that bore Zeus’s crest. But this was smaller, cast from bronze, its design more crudely carved.
Metis proffered it to her. Engraved at its heart was the tree.
‘The tree of knowledge,’ Danae breathed.
Metis barked out a laugh. ‘The Children of Prometheus know only a fragment of the truth. The man of their order who came here gave this to me. He too wanted to know whose side I was on. Said to send that to him once I had decided. I told him his grandchildren would be dead before that pendant returned to Ithaca. People only choose a side if they’re ready to go to war. ’
Danae watched her, weighing her words. ‘How did you oppose Zeus?’
Metis waved her question away. ‘The hour is late, and I have the lad to tend to. Get some rest.’
Begrudgingly, Danae lay down on the leaf-strewn floor while Metis returned to her work.
After a while she murmured, ‘I didn’t think it was possible to heal others. I’ve only ever been able to heal myself with my powers.’
‘It takes great patience and control,’ Metis replied as she worked on the hero. ‘And many years to master.’
More questions drifted through Danae’s mind, but weariness overpowered her, and once more she slipped into sleep.
When Danae woke again, the hut was bright with the glow of morning.
She sat up with a jolt when she realized that Metis wasn’t there.
Heracles lay wrapped in the cloak, still and grey.
Scrambling across the floor, Danae pressed her fingers to his neck.
The breath she held escaped at the faint pulse beneath her hand.
She let the relief wash over her, then left the hut in search of Metis.
Pegasus was lying outside the dwelling, still asleep, his head tucked into his side.
Danae stepped around him and walked out onto the hillside.
From her vantage point she could see across the entire length of Delos to the cerulean sea lapping at its coast. Opposite the bay was another uninhabited island and a small spit of land where a smattering of white-winged gulls clustered.
Further to the north were the green-flecked hills of a larger isle, and to the south, an expanse of ocean and the ghostly outline of another island hazed by the dawn mist.
Turning her attention back to the rocky reaches of Delos, she noticed a verdant area of land she hadn’t spotted from the bay.
A clutch of dark-green trees and bushes of reeds surrounded a small lake, a lone palm tree standing tall above the rest. Danae shielded her eyes against the rising sun.
Through the foliage, she could make out a small figure crouched on the bank.
Picking her way down the stony peak of the hill, she noticed that patches of the spurge growing between the rocks were grey and dull.
This was not strange in itself, but the dead sections of plant occurred at regular intervals; precise circles that never affected more than half the bush, as though the decay were following a pattern.
The stony hillside in her wake, Danae weaved her way between clumps of tawny grass, heading towards the lake. She found Metis bent over the water, filling the hydria.
‘Heracles is alive,’ said Danae. ‘Thank you.’
Metis glanced over her shoulder. ‘He’s out of danger for now. But he’s got a long road to recovery.’
Danae summoned the courage to ask the question she had been dreading to voice. ‘Will he be able to fight again?’
Metis shook her head. ‘His bones are frail and his muscles weakened. Nothing I can do about that. He’ll have to live a quiet life for the rest of his days.’
Guilt sank through Danae like an anchor tumbling to the seabed.
She thought of Heracles in all his glory, pictured him charging across the Doliones’ shore with an army of Earthborn at his back.
She remembered the depth of feeling in his ocean-blue eyes when he told her that all he had was his name, his legend.
He would never be the mighty Heracles again. Because of her.
Metis wiped her brow. ‘Now you’re here, you can give me a hand.’
Danae squatted beside her and helped Metis heave the full hydria from the lake.
The woman gestured to the large island to the south, lake water glistening on her wiry arms. ‘That land is Myconos. They’re peaceful, farming folk. Once Heracles wakes you can take him there to recover.’
Despite the rising heat of the day, a ripple of cold washed through Danae.
‘You really won’t help me fulfil my prophecy?’
‘I’ve done what I can for the lad. It’s best you both be on your way.’
Danae pressed her fingernails into the soft flesh of her palms. ‘Prometheus trusted you. Whatever you were to him, he believed you would help me liberate mankind. Does that mean nothing to you?’
Metis loosed a sharp sigh. ‘Even if you’re telling the truth, and Prometheus really did send you to me, it’s too late.
I thought I could make a difference once, but the centuries went by, and I realized the only thing you can count on is that one day we will all be dust. When you have lived as long as I, you see how insignificant we really are. ’
‘I am not insignificant. I am the last daughter. Two of the false gods are dead because of me. Hera fled from me in battle. I survived the Underworld without the power of my life-threads. I set free the giants and I watched Typhon, the last dragon, burn Hades out of existence. I will fulfil Prometheus’ prophecy. ’
Metis stared at her. For a moment Danae thought she caught a flicker of belief in those dark eyes, before doubt narrowed them once more.
‘The only way to become a Titan is to eat a Hesperides apple. Zeus guards that tree with his life. So, either he gave you one willingly or you tricked the most powerful being that has ever walked this earth.’ Metis let out a mirthless laugh.
‘You did well, however you convinced him. Zeus has not created a new Olympian in centuries. I was almost beginning to wonder if he no longer possesses the power … Gold that grows bears no fruit.’ She shook her head. ‘But then here you are.’
‘You’re wrong. I did not choose this. I would never choose this.
To go on living while all those you love wither and die …
’ Danae’s eyes stung. ‘You want to know how I became like this? My sister drowned herself, and when I dragged her body from the water, a tree sprouted from her heart. A tree with golden apples. It was the worst moment of my life, the most terrible and beautiful thing I have ever seen, and I …’ She fell silent at the expression on Metis’ face.
‘Her heart?’ the woman whispered.
‘Yes.’
Metis stared at her. ‘If I discover you have lied about this …’
A wave of grief caught Danae like a riptide.
Once more she was untethered, careering on a tempest of pain.
She was so weary. Tired of fighting, tired of running, tired of carrying around the knowledge that she would never see Alea again.
Tears swelled and tumbled down her cheeks. She made no attempt to stem them.
Then the hairs on her arms prickled. She grew very still as a warm breeze danced over her skin, soft as a butterfly’s wing.
The dissonant sounds of the island seemed to blend together into sweet harmonies of birdsong, murmuring leaves, whistling wind and the pulse of the tide that sounded like a heartbeat.
Metis’ body shifted as though she sensed it too. Then the woman sank down beside the hydria and pressed her hands to the earth, murmuring, ‘The tree of life, grown from the heart of the world.’
Just as swiftly as they had melded, the sounds fractured, and the wind reclaimed its bite.
When Metis raised her head, her eyes were bright with tears. ‘She grew a tree … just for you.’ She pressed her forehead to the ground. ‘Mother forgive me, I thought you had forsaken us.’
Danae opened her mouth then closed it again as Metis rose to her feet. Something in her had shifted. There was a light in her face that had not been there before.
‘I don’t know how Prometheus expected me to help you,’ said Metis. ‘It’s been almost a thousand years since I last set foot on Mount Olympus. But there is one thing I can do. I will teach you the ways of the Mother.’
Metis moved towards her, stretched out her earth-stained fingers and gripped the iron collar around Danae’s neck. There was an intense surge of heat, then with a click the metal opened and fell to the ground.
Danae gasped, sobs erupting from her chest at the sudden rush of feeling her life force flowing through her body.
It was like she’d been living in a dark, freezing cave, her senses smothered, and now she was stepping out into the sunlight for the very first time.
The air was sweeter, the colours brighter, the sound of the wind the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard.
I am here, said the voice. I never left.