Chapter 60 Eryx
Eryx
Once again, I’m watching my crew compete from the sidelines, and it is complete horseshit. This time I am truly confined to the ship, but mercifully, I am out of my bed. Antaeus helped me move to a large chair on the rear quarterdeck, so that I can see everything going on in the flame dish.
At the moment, Hercules is winning, emerging from an insect-infested field and waving his sword triumphantly.
The crews from the Alastor and the Virtus are level, the redhead from the Alastor keeping her boat high above the ground.
Antaeus is at the back, his face a mask of concentration.
I scowl, wishing I were in Busiris’s place.
They’re approaching marshland now, and if the insects are anything to go by, they should be on their guard.
Busiris holds his bow at his side, looking around nervously.
I feel around for the jug of water beside me, reluctant to take my eyes off the race for even a second.
I’ve downed pints of it now, but I can still taste the remnants of the disgusting sludge.
I take a long drag and poke at my bandaged chest. It’s tender, but not painful anymore.
I suppose I’m grateful I can feel it at all.
The image in the flame dish changes, showing a closer view of Hercules, the lion skin bulking his muscular frame out farther. Behind him, slingshot pulled back, blue hair in a high tail and eyes vigilant, is Evadne. My eyes flick between the two.
I want to kill him. I want to take his stupid glowing sword and carve it straight through his fucking neck. Hercules is an absolute piece of shit.
Rage makes my chest tighten, worsening the ache as I watch her. Remembering the citrus scent of her, and the way she looked at me like she actually cared, only makes my helpless impotence worse.
She told me, in no uncertain terms, that she had chosen her path. Whether I agree or not, no matter how much I hate it, it’s nothing to do with me. She’s nothing to do with me.
The image widens, showing Captain Lyssa speeding toward the marshland, gaining on Hercules.
The sail on her small boat is rippling scarlet red, the same color as Hercules’s sword.
A flash of movement below the tiny boats catches my eye, and I lean forward, grunting in discomfort. There’s something in the swamp.
I squint at the picture before me, watching the boggy ground the boats are flying over. Again I see it, a splash and a fin of some sort, disappearing into the murky water.
My heart rate picks up. Both Antaeus and Theseus are flying close to the swamp, close enough to each other that Theseus’s first mate is stabbing her spear at Busiris, her gold armor gleaming. Frustration wells in me.
They aren’t watching the water. They’re too focused on each other to see the danger below.
“Look down,” I mutter, willing them to notice. “Look down, Busiris, you idiot.”
I picture Antaeus in my mind and project my voice.
“Captain, there’s something in the water below you. Raise the boat,” I say, as calmly as I can.
There’s no answer.
I watch the flame dish, desperate for any sign from Antaeus that he’s heard me. My captain’s face doesn’t change.
There’s another ripple of movement in the water, this one bigger than the last. I watch in impotent dismay as more than just a fin rises from the murk.
A dark green tail, lined with sharp, triangular spikes, rolls up out of the reed-filled marsh then disappears again.
I’ve seen a tail like that before on Aquarius. It belongs to a giant crocodile.
My breath catches in my throat. “No, no, no…”
The image closes in on the Virtus’s longboat when the first green lizard bursts from the marsh below, water cascading off its scaled hide.
It snaps its monstrous teeth and flicks a tail as large as their boat at them before diving back under the water with a splash.
Hedone drops her spear as she stumbles backward, the boat swerving violently as Theseus reacts.
Psyche barks something at her captain, holding her spear out farther as she speaks, swishing it from side to side.
Hedone bends, fumbling to get her own back in her hands.
The boat swerves again, but they aren’t fast enough, and a second slimy green lizard collides with them.
They’re thrown the other way, and Psyche’s face contorts as she shouts what must be a warning.
I lean forward, my chest screaming in protest. “Show me Antaeus’s boat!” I plead aloud.
On cue, the image zooms out, and my dread grows.
Antaeus and Busiris are flying too low, the boat sluggish with the weight it’s carrying.
Antaeus is bellowing at the mast itself, ignoring Busiris, who is trying and failing to fire arrows at the lizards.
They’re too fast for him to hit. Antaeus thumps the mast as five or six lizards are leaping in huge arcs out of the water, narrowly missing the Virtus’s boat as it finally begins to climb higher, escaping the snapping jaws.
But my captain’s boat has all but shuddered to a stop.
My stomach drops as reeds start to climb up out of the bog like skeletal fingers and wrapping themselves around the wood of the too-slow boat.
Antaeus roars, his massive fist connecting with a lizard’s head.
The snake tattoo on his back writhes with his movements.
The lizard drops back into the water, stunned, but more knobbly green lizard skin flashes in the depths below them.
The splashing increases as the beasts surround the boat in a tightening circle. He won’t be able to fight them all off.
My hands are trembling now, my injured chest heaving with rapid breaths.
Three lizards attack simultaneously from different sides.
Antaeus catches one by the throat, his enormous hands finding purchase on the slick scales, and launches it into the distance.
But while he’s occupied, another crashes into the side of the boat, tearing a chunk of wood away with its teeth.
The third rakes its claws along the hull, leaving deep gouges.
Busiris finally releases an arrow. It strikes a lizard in the eye, and the creature dives back under the surface. But there are too many. For every one they drive off, two more emerge from the marsh.
I can see the desperation in Antaeus’s eyes as he fights, his movements becoming more frantic.
A massive lizard, twice the size of the others, erupts from directly beneath them.
Its jaws close on empty air inches from Busiris, who throws himself backward.
The boat rocks violently, and I see Antaeus grab the mast to steady himself.
Busiris shouts something and points ahead of them. The image in the flame dish pans, following his gesture. The stag is changing course, veering hard to the right, its golden hooves flashing as it turns.
Theseus sees it at the same time, and banks hard to keep behind the creature, his boat responding immediately to his command. Hercules, far ahead, is making the turn with ease.
But the giants can’t follow. The reeds have pulled them almost to a complete stop, the boat now hovering barely a foot above the water’s surface.
“Come on,” I breathe, my fingernails digging into my palms. “Break free. You can break free.”
Antaeus grabs a handful of reeds with both hands and pulls. His muscles strain, veins standing out on his neck and arms. For a moment, I think he’s going to do it. The reeds begin to tear, ripping free from the wood. But then the largest lizard strikes again.
It launches itself from the water with terrifying speed, its entire body airborne, jaws wide enough to swallow a man whole. Time seems to slow as I watch it arc through the air, droplets of swamp water scattering.
Antaeus sees it coming. He releases the reeds and braces himself, one massive arm coming up to protect his face.
The lizard hits him full force, its weight and momentum driving him backward into the mast. For a horrifying moment, I think he’s going overboard.
The boat tilts at a crazy angle, one side dipping toward the water, where more lizards wait with open jaws.
Busiris slides across the deck, losing his bow over the side, scrabbling for purchase on the slick wood.
“No!” The word tears from my throat.
But Antaeus catches himself on the mast. With a roar that echoes across the marsh, he grabs the lizard that’s still attached to him, its claws dug deep into his shoulder, and physically tears it away from his body.
Blood streams down his chest. He lifts the thrashing creature above his head and hurls it with all his strength at the other approaching lizards.
There’s no triumph in his face, though. I can see the defeat in his eyes.
A small lizard erupts from the water beside them, and Antaeus catches it by the throat almost absently, leaning back and then launching it into the distance.
But it’s a futile gesture. His movements are too slow, and he’s injured.
My stomach constricts painfully as he holds both arms in the air. The words are the only ones that have been transmitted through the flame dish, clear and final.
“We give up.”
The boat shimmers, and then the whole thing vanishes an instant before the largest lizard lunges once more, its teeth snapping closed on thin air.