20. The Trial [2]
Splat!
Tsss...
A harsh sulphuric odour rose from the melting spot on the stone ground and stung Medusa's nose. If she hadn't moved when she did, that would have been her—a sizzling smoking goop of dead flesh.
The bird having the same acid breath as an ekhidna made no sense. Nowhere had she read of such a creature existing.
When Medusa obeyed Clotho's terse instruction, another splat hit the spot she had just escaped.
"An acid-spitting heron? How unexpected." There was a note of deranged glee in the herald's voice. "And for those who cannot tell due to the distance, May, daughter of Venetis, is unawakened. We are in for fantastic entertainment, Valonites!"
These animals wanted to see her suffer! Medusa gritted her teeth as annoyance surged. And that annoyance pushed away her panic and made way for fierce determination.
They expect me to fail. Their stare of crushing expectation pressed down on her. But I'll disappoint you. I will disappoint you all.
Clotho had said something about a lesson. If she could—
The heron pierced forward, beak moving like a rapier but Medusa leapt away again. A step of the bird covered three of hers. And it moved again and again, its sharp yellow gaze trained on her.
Medusa frowned, and then her eyes widened. Her speed had doubled, and there was something else... To test her suspicion, she leapt to the left and to her surprise, something gave her an extra lift before cushioning her landing.
With unexpected speed, the bird shot forward.
Medusa's heart sank as two horrifying realisations registered. The heron had superspeed, and she wasn't fast enough to escape the bird's coming attack.
She could only manage a slight shift to the left, turning at the last moment to shield her heart from direct impact. The heron's head slammed into her side.
A raw cry of agony ripped through her throat as the forceful collision sent her soaring through the air. Her lower ribs... the sawing pain made breathing impossible.
I'm dying. Medusa was too familiar with the feeling to not recognise it.
She vaguely registered the earth thudding rhythmically beneath her ear. The bird was approaching.
I have to move, but this irresistible slumberous feeling. Her body smothered her will to cling to life. I... I think I have to sleep. I couldn't headbutt it, Antonii. If I let go, I may meet you. We'll be together. Maybe...
Medusa blinked her eyes open and came upon an unexpected sight. She was lying on her side in a spread of still black waters. The sky possessed the dim blue of dusk and her nose picked no smell.
The speaker had an angry feminine voice, and she was out of sight.
Like who? Medusa frowned. Her voice box would not move and this... she blinked again as her frown deepened. This was not like the other deaths she had experienced. For some reason it evoked fear.
Medusa attempted to speak again. "Where am I?" This time she felt her lips move but did not hear the words.
STAB.
She flinched as a large silver thread snipper pierced the water inches from her face. Too close. The water rippled when a hooded figure appeared next to the snipper and casually leaned against it.
The goddess lifted her snipper, the twin silver blades shining ominously. After I kill you, I will find that sneaky rat and kill him too.
Oh, well. I guess this is— A sudden warmth pulsed around Medusa's wrist, shot to her heart and wracked her body with a great pulse of electricity.
One blink, and she was back at the arena.
Medusa's neck snapped back in place as her airway cleared up. The pain faded to a dull throb. She sat upright.
Frowning, Medusa looked at her wrist. She would have died for real if the beaded band hadn't helped at the last moment. And that being she met. Was she Clotho's sister? Who was the other person she longed to kill?
Like Clotho said, the bird was making its way in her direction. It moved in a halting manner; one thin leg up, head turned to the side, yellow eyes rolling as it observed her.
Step. Pause. Stare. Repeat.
At the feel of something sliding down her temple, she wiped at the spot and the strip of cloth around her arm came back bloody.
The heron spread its wings, appearing even larger than it already did. Now it no longer took halting steps as it approached Medusa.
Medusa groaned in frustration. I don't understand.
The heron increased its walk to a trot. Medusa kicked up her speed and as she did, she tried it again. She leaned to the side as if about to fall but there was a recoil as expected.
She pressed into her run some more and, to her surprise, her speed increased in answer. This feeling... It was almost like the sensation she got whenever she speed-swam.
"Such speed!" The herald cried. "But it seems running is the only feat she's capable of."
At her faster pace, the heron flapped its wings as its yellow eyes dyed to a deep orange tinge.
Standing still in the centre of the arena, the bird tracked her movement with now orange eyes.
Medusa hissed in frustration when the heron lowered its body and flapped its wings.
What can I use? Think.
Halting her run, she brought her palm to her mouth and tugged at the knot with her teeth.
Look. She waved at the bird. I'm not running anymore. Chase me. Just, don't fly, please.
The strip of cloth was fairly long and quite tough. If she could find a way to loop it around the bird's thin legs.
It took an instant for understanding to strike.
"YES!" Medusa shouted with a relieved laugh. Strangely, it felt like knowledge she possessed for the longest time but forgot for some reason.
"May laughs at her foe," said the herald. "A brave one. Perhaps, she's fitting for the Manticores."
A section of the crowd cheered in answer. As if enraged by the crowd's reaction, the heron rushed forward with its wings spread and body low.
Medusa shut her eyes and sharpened her senses.
If aether felt like a soft force around her body, air was sharper. And it was with that in mind she shot for the approaching bird with the strip of cloth trailing behind.
At the moment its beak would have stabbed her head, Medusa dropped to her knees and propelled her slide between the bird's legs with the pull of aether.
One twist of her wrist and the cloth stiffened, sharpened and moved at an arch.
Slice.
A pained croak.
Not giving the bird a moment to collect itself, Medusa sprung to her feet and ran around it.
The cloth had cut its left leg to the bone. Soot rose from the wound as the bird released an enraged croak in her direction. Medusa winced at the deafening sound but pumped power to her feet. If she could find a way to use the cloth as a lasso to tie the heron's feet.
Seeming to figure out her plan, the bird twisted around and raced in her direction—that and the fact that its eyes were now blood red.
Not good. Not good at all.
The heron suddenly paused, but its red gaze remained locked on her. Its throat expanded like a frog's coupled with gurgling sounds and rippling.
"This..." Medusa gritted her teeth. What was this bird? Did it have an endless reservoir of acid in its gut or what? And she was beginning to feel fatigued. Her muscles were screaming and her tunic stuck to her body from sweat.
The bird went low, feathery bulbous sac swaying as it twisted its neck this way and that. One red feral eye remained pinned on Medusa.
It's planning something. I must run now.
The deluge came.
Splat. Splat. Splat. Splat.
Wheezing, Medusa pressed forward with all her might barely noticing the line of blood sliding down her nostril. The heat of the bird's acid stung her heel as she struggled to run even faster.
When her senses flared in warning, Medusa leapt forward, tripped and fell into a fast roll. She looked back in time to see green sludge spread even wider. The ground was fast becoming a minefield of boiling potholes.
Shooting back to her feet, Medusa resumed her run. Now her breaths were harsh pants. At first, leaning into aether had been exhilarating but what was this agonising fatigue?
And she couldn't afford to slow down. The air stung from the steam the acid produced. Breathing was painful.
"Breathing," Medusa repeated as she ran.
Acting on instinct, Medusa grabbed its open beak.
Mistake. Big mistake. The heron's strength was monstrous. Its open mouth was dark red and below its tongue was a hole the size of a large fist.
The bird pushed, causing her back to slam to the earth and slide across the ground. If Medusa recalled correctly, there should be potholes of boiling acid ahead. Did it intend to push her in?
"Breathing," Medusa yelled in panicked desperation.
The back of Medusa's tunic frayed as the bird continued pushing her across the ground. Her back and arm muscles were on fire. And as its hot breath fanned her face, her eyes stung.
"You've got to be kidding me," Medusa muttered bitterly in English.
This demon bird would overpower me and pierce my head in front of an audience. Her eyes stung for another reason. And... and I'm exhausted, damn it.
Medusa's eyes widened when the bird's throat began vibrating.
No. No. No. Not again.
"Breathing!" Medusa yelled.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Medusa shut her eyes and resisted the urge to sob. Violent deaths were the worst. "Please, breathing."
Absolute gibberish. Nothing registered in Medusa's mind.
Maybe I'm adopted.
When she opened her eyes, her heart sank. Wisps of green smoke coiled out of the hole beneath the bird's tongue. And that harsh rotten smell of sulphur.
This thing... this thing is going to melt my head. Along with the terrifying realisation came a wild desperation. There had to be a way of escape.
Everything. She'd pour everything into her next move. Medusa exhaled in preparation. Drawing in a short breath, she shouted and stumped her left foot with great force. The aether around gave her an extra boost as she arched her back and willed her legs to move fast using the momentum of the bird.
And it worked. It worked!
Medusa was back on her feet, beak still firmly in her grip.
But it was too late.
Since she was close, she saw how it worked. From the hole beneath the bird's tongue, the sizzling sludge bubbled forth as green smoke spread.
At Clotho's repeated word, something loosened in Medusa's mind and comprehension rushed in. And this root word Clotho spoke of could be improved. Without thinking much about it, she tweaked it based on other languages she had learned in her past lives.
"Breathing."
Aether answered. It rushed through her nostrils, pulverised fatigue and strengthened every muscle. An abundance of air hummed around her, begging to be used. And everything slowed down.
Medusa blinked at the bubbling venom beneath the bird's tongue.
So simple. All she had to do was close its beak.
Her arms moved in afterimages as she grabbed its beak and slammed it shut. The strips of cloth around her arm moved at her guidance and tightly held it close.
Time was restored the instant she leapt away.
A muffled explosion.
Green sludge sprayed as the bird's head and throat ruptured in a mess of charred flesh and bones. Its remains plopped forward, thin feet kicking in its last struggle before crumbling to ash.
Medusa collapsed to her knees in stunned disbelief. First, there was silence, then a thunderous cheer erupted in the background but she didn't care.
I did it. I really did it. She flexed her fingers before her face as a bewildered chuckle escaped her lips. I can defend myself.
"Thank you, Clotho," Medusa whispered, meaning the words from her soul. Thank you.
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