Chapter 31 The Titans #2
Zeus turns to face the rest of the twelve. The new arrival lingers behind him. It is strange; there seems to be a thread of tension between them as though they have met in another life.
‘I was woken by a dream,’ says Zeus. ‘The Mother called to me and showed me the face of the next Titan.’
There are gasps.
‘The Mother has only ever revealed her next chosen Titans through the omphalos stone,’ says Phoebe.
Zeus nods slowly. ‘I too doubted, so I consulted the stone. It confirmed my dream was indeed sent from the Mother. But that is not all it showed me. The world beyond Mount Olympus is changing, and we must change with it.’
‘It is true.’ The stranger steps closer. ‘On my journey I saw great armies marching across the plains of Greece. Even in my humble village, we feel the grip of war upon the land. If nothing is done, the people will destroy themselves.’
The Titans murmur below the branches of the Hesperides tree, while the stranger eyes the golden apples glowing overhead.
‘What is your name, friend?’ asks Hyperion.
‘Poseidon.’
There are many lone stalks amongst the twisted boughs of the Hesperides tree with no fruit dangling from their tips. I wonder if it is my imagination, or if there are fewer golden apples than there were before.
I begin to notice dead animals. A kestrel with broken wings lying by the lagoon.
A wolf, its insides exposed and glistening, draped on the exposed rocks to the north of the Hesperides plateau.
A boar in the forest below, bearing a wound that could only have been made by a blade.
These deaths cannot be the work of a Titan.
We do not kill for sport, only to feed ourselves.
And we never, ever end another’s life to consume its threads.
Perhaps the evil Poseidon spoke of has already found its way to the sacred mountain.
I sicken a season after the night Poseidon arrived and Atlas returned his threads to the Hesperides tree. I think that whatever has twisted the minds of mortal men has poisoned me too. Then, one night, I feel the stirring of new strands of life inside me.
I tell no one, not even Zeus. I fear for what may become of me and my child if the other Titans discover the truth.
I wake to a knife at my throat.
Before I can react, the weapon is withdrawn.
‘Not her,’ whispers a familiar voice.
I shuffle back. The ground is warm and wet beneath my hands. I turn and see Phoebe, her throat slicked with blood, lips parted, eyes glazed.
I scream.
Prometheus, Crius, Iapetus, Tethys, Coeus, Hyperion and Poseidon wake. The others do not move from their root beds. I search the faces around me, alive and slain, but I cannot see Zeus.
Three shadowy figures emerge from behind the tree.
Assassins.
From their stature, they appear to be a man and two women dressed in homespun tunics. I catch a glimpse of the man’s face under a dapple of moonlight. For a heart-stopping moment I think it is Zeus. But no, this man’s face is sharper, his build slighter.
‘Protect the tree!’ Crius shouts.
Prometheus sends a stream of life-threads into the air and hurls the male assassin to the ground with a blast of wind. Crius, Tethys and Iapetus round on the two women, the Titans sending life-threads deep into the earth, summoning roots to bind the intruders’ legs.
I think it will be over swiftly. They are mortals, and we are Titans.
Then the male assassin casts out a surge of life-threads of his own, battering back Prometheus’ wind. My eyes stretch wide. How can this be?
I gape, unable to move, torn between my sacred duty and the life I feel growing inside me. I do not know how to wield my own life-threads and not touch the child’s. I can barely breathe, blood is thundering in my ears. Then I see something that locks my breath entirely.
Poseidon moves about the remaining Titans like smoke while his brethren fight, a bronze blade in his hand.
Tethys falls.
I scramble back, screaming for Zeus, my eyes searching the plateau.
Then I see him.
Zeus stands a little way off, his back to the ridge, watching the bloodshed with golden fire in his eyes.
‘Help them!’ I scream.
He looks at me, and the glory in his gaze is the most terrifying thing I have ever seen.
Zeus raises his arms to the heavens. A channel of life-threads streams from his hands into the clouds, and the sky boils. Thunder rends the air, and lightning strikes the earth. Iapetus shrieks as a fork pierces his back. Next, Coeus is struck and collapses.
‘I have done it!’ cries Zeus to the raging sky. ‘I have done as you bade me!’
It cannot be the Mother to whom he speaks. This cannot be Gaia’s will.
Then there is a gut-wrenching crack, and my mouth stretches in silent horror as an arrow of lightning pierces the omphalos shard, shattering the eye of the world.
As the last of Gaia’s chosen Titans fight a losing battle against our invaders, Prometheus, his body blackened and smoking, crawls towards Zeus. The man I love turns, his face as cold and cruel as moonlight, and lifts his hand.
A dam breaks in my chest. I push myself up and run faster than my legs have ever carried me before. I hurl myself at Zeus, hitting him only with the power of my fists, but it is enough to send him sprawling to the ground. The lightning ceases.
‘Run!’ I cry.
Prometheus pauses for a heartbeat, then with a roar he heaves himself up, grabs a single shard of the shattered omphalos stone in the hem of his cloak, and flees.
Zeus overpowers me and throws me to the scorched earth. This time, I know I am prey.
Tears burn my cheeks as he pins me down.
‘My love,’ he whispers, his eyes no longer full of sky but burning gold. ‘You chose the wrong side.’ His hand slips down to grip my neck.
‘Please,’ I whisper. ‘I am with child.’