Chapter 37 The Many-Faced Man #2
‘This amulet is infused with the blood of my ancestors. Prometheus fashioned it forty generations ago and gave it to the first of his followers. It acts as a compass, guiding a bird towards the nearest person who shares kin blood. Which, as my father is back in Ithaca, was me.’ This was who Metis had called upon when Poseidon came.
Guilt hollowed Danae’s chest. Even as she had accused Metis of summoning the gods, the woman had already chosen to fight on their side.
Perhaps she had even known she would not survive the encounter with the God of the Sea.
Odysseus slipped the pendant back inside his tunic. ‘I believe the false gods use similar medallions to commune with their priestesses.’
‘False gods …’ she repeated.
Odysseus’ lips twitched.
‘What are you, besides your royal title?’
‘I think you know,’ he said softly.
‘Say it.’
Odysseus inclined his head. ‘I am a loyal member of the Children of Prometheus.’
Danae’s heart thundered so fast she could barely hear him.
The secret organization of mortals who kept Prometheus’ prophecy alive so that she, the last daughter, might one day overthrow the gods.
Manto, the brave person who had first revealed the prophecy to Danae, and their father, the exiled seer Phineus, had both been members.
As she thought of them, the recollection of something Manto had said darted across her mind.
‘A member of the Children would never reveal themselves.’
Odysseus’ smile broadened to a grin. ‘Oh, but they would … to the last daughter.’
Danae took a step back, the metal bundled in her hands clinking as she moved.
Odysseus fell to his knee, all studious calm stripped away.
His men followed, sinking in a ripple across the ship.
She looked at Hylas, seeking the reassurance she often used to find in his face, but was met only with a cold stare, then a flash of irritation as he leant on his crutch and slowly lowered himself to the ground, his wooden leg bending beneath him on its ankle joint.
Danae glanced at Telamon and Atalanta. They were the only two left standing.
The warrior curled her lip. ‘I’m not fucking kneeling.’
‘Get up.’ Danae’s face burned.
Odysseus and Hylas obliged, but the crew remained in reverence.
‘What makes you think I’m the person you seek?’
‘I’d heard whispers from my contacts in Delphi that the last daughter had come and destroyed the oracle – when the prophet falls. Then I crossed paths with Hylas, and he told me of your abilities.’ Odysseus’ eyes gleamed. ‘I knew you must be the one from Prometheus’ prophecy.’
Danae’s brow creased. She was sure that when Manto rescued her from the prison beneath Apollo’s sanctuary, they had told her that they were the only person who knew the last daughter had come. Perhaps they had been mistaken.
‘We are, all of us here, members of the Children of Prometheus,’ Odysseus continued, gesturing about the ship. ‘Every man here is your humble servant, honoured to lay down his life for the cause.’
Danae stared at him, each beat of her heart driving a wave of relief through her chest. Part of her still couldn’t believe this was real. Hylas’ return from the dead had stripped away all her cunning.
‘Tell me,’ pressed Odysseus, ‘why has Metis summoned me? My father passed down the knowledge from my ancestors that she will not stand against the Olympians. Perhaps your coming has changed her mind?’
The sun had been swallowed by the sea, the chill of the night creeping over the ship. Danae shivered, her throat thickening as she thought of Metis’ body lying cold and lifeless upon the earth.
‘She sent for you because Poseidon came to the island.’
Odysseus’ eyebrows rose. ‘What became of that encounter?’
Danae hesitated for a moment, then untied the bundled fabric in her hands.
‘He is dead.’
Gold clanged onto the deck, a shard of trident skidding to a halt at Hylas’ sandal. He gazed down at the pieces of metal, then his eyes flicked up to meet Danae’s. Something flashed through his gaze, like a star shooting across the darkness. It happened so quickly she could not divine what it was.
Odysseus laughed, a full belly rumble. He turned to his men. ‘The last daughter has already begun to deliver us from the tyranny of the Olympians, who are no longer twelve, but eleven!’
‘Ten,’ corrected Atalanta.
Odysseus spun to face her.
The warrior squared her shoulders. ‘Hades too is slain.’
Light danced in Odysseus’ eyes. He looked down at the scattered fragments of armour and trident as though they were a puzzle he must piece together.
‘And what of Metis? Does she await us on Delos?’
‘She died fighting Poseidon,’ Danae said quietly.
The joyous spark died in Odysseus’ eyes.
‘That is a great loss. For all of us. My father raised me on stories of Metis and Prometheus, true Titans who stood against Zeus’ tyranny. I never believed she would call for my bloodline in my lifetime, but I hoped, and when that gull flew to my ship, the medallion around its neck …’
‘Prometheus too is gone.’
Odysseus’ gaze sharpened.
‘I spoke with him atop the Caucasus Mountains, before Hera attacked, slaying him.’
‘What did he tell you?’ breathed Odysseus.
‘Things I suspect you already know.’ She wondered how much of the truth he, Hylas and the rest of his men knew. Manto had only been privy to a fraction of the twisted history of the gods, yet Odysseus did not seem surprised by Danae’s words.
He regarded her for a moment, then said, ‘You and your companions must come with me, Daeira.’
She winced at the use of her false, Argonaut name. ‘My name is Danae.’
Again, she caught a flicker of feeling dart across Hylas’ face. This time he did not hide it so well. It looked an awful lot like anger.
‘We have a long journey back to Troy,’ continued Odysseus. ‘And much to discuss on our way.’
‘We’re not going to Troy.’
Odysseus blinked. ‘Where, might I ask, are you going?’
Danae shifted her feet on the oiled deck, widening her stance. ‘If you know who I am, then you know what I am destined to do. Where I must go.’
‘Surely you do not mean to sail for Olympus in that.’ He glanced down at the rowing boat.
‘We will change vessels at Myconos.’
Odysseus’ eyes swept over Telamon and Atalanta. ‘Your army is currently rather small.’
‘Size isn’t everything,’ quipped Atalanta.
Odysseus’ lip curled. ‘Do you really believe the three of you will successfully storm Mount Olympus and defeat the most powerful god in the Pantheon? And what of the rest of them? Prometheus’ prophecy foretells that you will end Zeus’ reign.
It says nothing of the other Olympians. If you are not careful, you might kill Zeus only for a new King or Queen of Heaven to be crowned in his stead. ’
There was a pause before Telamon murmured, ‘He has a point.’
‘All of us here have spent our lives in the service of the Children of Prometheus, at great personal risk, all in aid of ensuring your victory against the false gods,’ Odysseus pressed, an idea igniting behind his eyes.
‘I know for certain several of the younger gods plan to watch the coming battle for Troy. With my men at your side, we could kill them. Thin the herd, clearing your path to take Olympus.’
Danae looked at the crew. They were still kneeling between the benches, gazing at her like she was salvation incarnate.
Odysseus drew close enough to whisper in her ear, ‘I too know the extent of the gods’ lies. I have been to the Underworld. I have seen that the dead do not live beneath the earth.’
A chill shuddered through her limbs. Her scalp prickled, as though bony fingers were tracing through her hair.
She glanced once more at the men on the mid-deck. ‘You only have around forty soldiers here.’
‘There are a hundred more loyal Children of Prometheus men waiting at Troy,’ Odysseus said swiftly. ‘Your very own army.’
‘Come with us, Danae,’ said Hylas.
For a moment she allowed herself to imagine what it would feel like to have an army beside her, her old companions reunited. No more lies souring the bond between them.
‘My lord,’ called one of the soldiers from the mid-deck. ‘The sun has set – would you have us land at Delos for the night?’
‘No.’ Odysseus tilted his head to the west. ‘Sail for Myconos.’ He looked back at Danae. ‘We can at least bear you that far?’
She took them all in; the strangers who looked at her with wonder, her companions, the friend she thought had left this world. Hope was the cruellest blade of all. Hers had been dashed too many times; she did not know if she had the strength to let it live within her again.
Her gaze returned to Hylas, the man who had twice sacrificed his life to save her. So much time had passed, and so much had changed. But perhaps the person he had been was still there. The man she knew. The man she could trust. The man who had loved her.
‘We will come with you as far as Myconos, and I will think on what you have said.’
Odysseus flashed her a gleaming smile. ‘As you wish.’