Chapter 34 The Sea’s Revenge
Danae woke, damp and shivering. Rosy-fingered dawn daubed the sky with the first blush of morning.
She lay on the bank beside the lake, chill wind scraping her skin.
Heracles, Atalanta and Telamon were curled in the shelter of the upended boat, their limbs folded over one another like children.
But instead of dolls, their fists clutched weapons.
They had all retreated to the lake after Danae destroyed the stone hut. Metis alone had remained on the hilltop to sleep beside the wreckage of her home.
Danae missed the protective warmth of Pegasus’ wings all those nights they’d huddled together in forests, caves and abandoned dwellings while seeking the entrance to the Underworld.
An ache of worry shivered through her. The horse had flown away and not returned to the island since she’d lost control and obliterated the hut the previous night.
She crawled to the water, splashed her face, drank, then eased herself to her feet and rubbed her arms. Her head pounded as though she’d consumed a whole amphora of unmixed wine. Sighing, she cast her gaze towards the hill.
In the aftermath of her rage, she could not recall the detail of all that had been spoken outside the collapsed hut. But one sentence was branded across her memory. Perhaps Gaia made a mistake.
Danae set her jaw. ‘You’re wrong,’ she muttered and strode towards the hill. She was loath to face Metis, but the crest would give her the best view across all sides of the Aegean and surrounding land. The sooner she could find Pegasus and they could leave this cursed isle, the better.
She avoided the usual route towards Metis’ hut, clambering over lichen-stained boulders and picking her way between prickly cushions of spruce, the peach-gold light brightening as she climbed.
She was halfway to the peak when a flurry of loose stones tumbled down to her right, swiftly followed by Metis hurtling towards the bay. Danae caught a flash of sunlight glinting on metal. Something bronze was clutched in the woman’s outstretched hand.
Anger once again licked its heat across Danae’s skin.
She turned and scrambled after the woman, sprinting as soon as she reached the ground.
Ahead of her, once Metis reached the bay, she called to the gulls nesting on the earthen rock opposite the beach.
As one they rose, buffeted by the wind as they soared to her.
One landed on her outstretched arm and finally, Danae saw what the woman had been holding: the medallion Metis had shown her when she first arrived on Delos.
Metis slipped the amulet around the bird’s neck, cooing as she stroked its wings, before launching it into the sky. The gull did not return to soar with its brethren, but climbed up towards the sun, before careering east.
‘Metis!’ Danae doubled over, sucking the sharp air into her lungs. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What I should have done a long time ago.’ Metis strode towards Danae and grasped her arm, attempting to drag her off the sand. ‘You must hide, quickly.’
Danae did not move. In the distance, a dark shape floated atop the glinting sapphire waves.
It was the strangest vessel she’d ever seen, the size of a great warship, yet the oars looked thick as tree trunks, the helm bulbous rather than tapering to a sleek point.
She could see no crew moving aboard the boat, but in the centre stood a figure who appeared to be cast from gold.
Then the curved end of the stern flexed, and her entire body ran cold.
It was no ship. It was alive.
‘Poseidon has come,’ hissed Metis, redoubling her efforts to drag Danae from the shore.
She wrenched her arm from the woman’s grip. ‘You summoned him here!’
‘No.’ Metis looked worn through. ‘I swear on Athena’s life, on the Mother herself. Go, find the others, hide by the lake until I come to fetch you. Now, before he sees you!’
Despite all that had passed between them, Danae believed her. She had never seen Metis look so afraid.
‘I can fight. I’m ready.’
‘No, you are not.’
‘I faced Hera, I sent her flying back to Olympus!’
‘Poseidon is something else.’ Metis took her by the shoulders. ‘If you fight him now, you will die, and so will your friends.’
The clarity in the woman’s eyes stilled her. Just for a moment, Danae saw a flicker of her mother.
She hesitated for a heartbeat, then turned and ran.
‘Poseidon is here!’ Danae yelled as she thundered towards the lake.
Telamon and Atalanta leapt to their feet, then Heracles’ gaunt face appeared behind the upturned rowing boat.
‘My uncle?’ he croaked.
Danae’s lungs ached as she gasped, ‘And a fucking great sea-monster. We have to hide, now!’
Telamon and Atalanta looked at one another, sword and bow clutched in their hands.
‘We hide from no one,’ said the warrior.
Danae slicked back the flyaway hairs plastered to her brow.
‘Metis says he is too strong.’ She clenched her teeth, casting her mind back to the Underworld.
‘And she’s right. If Poseidon’s power is anything like Hades’ we are not ready to fight him.
Not as we are.’ Her eyes flicked to Heracles.
‘We must conceal ourselves.’ Then she added, ‘That’s an order. ’
She waited, the breath locked in her chest, convinced Telamon or at least Atalanta would rail against her.
But to her astonishment, Atalanta slung her bow over her shoulder and grasped the side of the boat, tipping it onto its belly.
A heartbeat later, Telamon sheathed his sword and helped her drag the vessel into the undergrowth.
Heracles remained. For the first time since arriving on Delos, Danae did not flinch at the loathing in his gaze.
‘You will never replace me,’ he whispered.
‘I don’t want to,’ she said softly.
She felt the urge to move towards him. ‘Heracles, please, you must hide …’ her fingers brushed his.
He recoiled from her touch and stalked after his companions into the trees. Danae clenched her fist, then crouched down, concealing herself in the bushes.
Before long, voices could be heard, carried on the wind.
‘It’s good of you to visit after all these years. As you can see, I am rather starved of company.’
‘You have the gulls.’ A male voice, deep and cold as a winter sea.
‘True, although they have a terrible sense of humour.’
‘You haven’t changed.’
‘Neither have you. Apart from the beard. Congratulations, you finally look older than Zeus.’
Poseidon laughed.
Danae’s skin prickled. They spoke like old friends. Like family.
A mocking lilt crept into Metis’ tone. ‘I wish I could offer you hospitality, but I have nothing worthy of the God of the Sea.’
‘A drink from the sweet water of your lake will suffice.’
Danae’s breath hitched in her throat. She peered between the leaves.
A figure clad in golden armour strode over the dusty earth.
He was tall and powerfully built, a trident clutched in one hand, his helm in the other.
He had always appeared sturdy and wild in his statues, with a great curling beard and long, shaggy hair.
In the flesh, his skin was the colour of ripe grain, his hair the rich hue of an oak tree.
He was cast in a rougher mould than Zeus and Hades, possessing none of the beauty his brother had passed onto Heracles, but there was a whisper of their shared blood in the lilt of his jaw and the furrow of his brow.
Metis hurried to place herself between the god and lake. ‘Spare me the niceties, Poseidon. Why are you here?’
Danae longed to check that the others were well concealed, but she dared not move.
Poseidon drove the end of his trident into the earth. ‘Hades and Persephone are dead.’
To her credit, Metis stiffened as though the news were a shock.
‘Slain by the very girl Prometheus prophesied would end Zeus’ reign. In a bitter twist of fate, the Titan too was killed by her hand.’
Danae’s mouth dried at the lie. She wanted to scream, to hurl herself from the undergrowth and savage him, but she willed herself to remain immobile as stone.
‘How can this be?’ breathed Metis.
‘She is a creature of pure malice that will stop at nothing until she has destroyed all Titans, Gaia’s chosen and Olympians alike. Prometheus was mistaken. The champion of mankind will be the end of us all.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘I believe she might come here, seeking your help.’ He drew out a golden medallion from the pouch at his waist. ‘If she does, keep her here and send for me, then …’
Poseidon trailed off and tilted his face skyward.
Danae strained to see what was happening. Then she heard the beating of wings.
Pegasus landed before his old master and nuzzled Poseidon’s hand.
Metis forced out a laugh. ‘A little much isn’t it, to arrive on the back of Skolopendra and bring your favourite winged horse.’
Poseidon wrenched his trident from the earth. ‘My steed was last spotted in the company of the girl. Where is she?’
Metis took a step back. ‘Not here.’
Poseidon’s azure-grey eyes turned to scour the greenery around the lake.
‘Poseidon, I swear –’
As though swinging an axe, the God of the Sea raked his trident through the air and a surge of life-threads shot from its treble prongs to wrap around Metis.
Danae waited, limbs bound with tension, expecting Metis to throw him off. But it seemed she could not. Her face reddened, her body twisting until there was a sickening crack and one of her arms folded inwards at an unnatural angle.
Metis screamed.
He was going to kill her.
You can do this, said the voice.
‘Please, Gaia, help me,’ Danae mouthed. She imagined everything bleeding away, all the noise, wind and fury, and pictured herself melting into her river.
Lines of gold began to crackle across her vision as the tapestry of life faded in and out of sight.
She tried to hold onto the feeling of calm, but her connection to Gaiasight was weak.
It would have to do.