Voyage of Dark Storm
Ambrosia
Chapter 1
"They're coming closer!" Shouted a man. His eyes were filled with terror as he clenched his oar with waterlogged fingers.
Meriones, prince of Knossos, gripped the rough wood railing as the prow of their ship, Dark Storm, lifted and crashed down on another heaving swell. For a brief moment, he saw what the rowers saw.
In the distance, another vessel with white and purple striped sails pulled taut in the wind, headed in their direction.
Meriones, unlike his men, wasn't afraid. He knew who commanded the ship that chased them across the sea from Egypt. He was the one who'd secretly paid them to follow.
So many Cretan men had died during the Great War. His eldest brother, King Idomeneus, joined the battle against Troy ten years ago, sailing with eight black-sailed ships supporting the Spartan King. As a prince of Crete, Meriones had forged many alliances in the past ten years—including one with the barbarian who chased them now and the woman who was the catalyst for the partnership.
He remembered the day near the war's end and the good fortune of taking several royal Trojan women captive; he saw a single black-sailed ship anchored off the Trojan shore. Meriones knew it was one sent from his homeland by the sails but didn't recognize it as part of the royal fleet. The hull was slim and long, with fifteen oars to a side. Meriones' eyebrows narrowed, seeing the ship's prow covered in bronze-like armor— a warship.
He and several of his men stood on the beach and watched as a dark figure descended into a small boat and rowed ashore.
Meriones recalled the shock when he saw his childhood friend, Aello. He barely recognized her. If it weren't for the double-sided ax tattooed on the inside of her forearm and her peculiar green eyes, he would have thought she was a wraith sent by Hades. What had happened to her in the intervening years?
Aello wore a cape of black vulture feathers and a stripe of black paint across her eyes and nose. She strode across the beach on bronze legs that ended in feet shaped like a bird’s, the clawed toes flaring out for added balance on the uneven ground. He'd never seen anything like it. It was a gift created by a god, he thought. The other men didn't share his fascination. They ran, terrified that the monster sent from Hades was there to collect souls.
When she finally stood before him, there were no pleasantries, no greetings between friends, and no servant showing him respect as a royal family member. She only demanded one of the Spartan king's captives—a Trojan princess called Polyxena.
Meriones frowned at the memory. He never figured out how she knew about the captured princess or how she disappeared with the girl unseen. When morning broke the next day, Aello and her ship were gone along with Polyxena.
Agamemnon, King of the Mycenaeans, grumbled and called Aello a Harpy, a creature of Hades, a snatcher, and told the men to be grateful she hadn't snatched them in the night.
Three years later, when Idomeneus finally sent word that the Greek forces had breached Troy's walls and burned the city, he sent Meriones an additional message. Instead of sailing home, he was to take one of the ships and sail to the sacred island of Thera. There was no explanation; Meriones was to obey his brother without question, and as much as he wanted to ignore his brother's command, he sailed without protest.
Four women waited for him when he arrived on Thera weeks later. Aello and three others, including the Trojan princess, waited for him on the beach. Each wore capes made of black feathers, bronze breastplates, and labrys hanging from a loop at their sides. They stood, glaring down at him and his men as they approached.
The man closest to him gasped, pulling Meriones from his memories. The sailor ducked his head and put his strength into the back pull of the row. Meriones turned to see the only woman who made his blood run cold.
"Aello!" He called.
Aello stood tall. She still wore her cape. It hung from her shoulders as the glossy black feathers shifted in the breeze, revealing the bronze legs that allowed her to walk. She had wiped a thick black paste across her eyes in a bold stripe from temple to temple and twisted her long black hair in a thick braid that hung down her back. She smiled into the wind and sea mist, and Meriones shivered.
She was no longer the quiet, serious girl he knew as a child. At one time, it was what he craved: her innocence at his beck and call. Now, she was a force as strong as the storm that blew them across the sea. He would never admit he was afraid of her. What kind of man would he be if he was?
A flicker of reflected light flashed in her hand, and he licked his lips as he followed the movement. It was what the men in the other ship wanted—it was what he wanted. It was the reason why they were making a mad dash for Crete. Many people knew the treasure by different names. The pharaohs of Egypt called it the Book of Thoth, and his people knew it as Ambrosia.
Aello stared straight ahead as her lips moved in a silent conversation only she could hear. He wondered if it was another of her visions. She was having them more frequently. She would hiss that the gods would come to kill them because she knew their secret. Or he would see her below deck crying because the goddess told her secrets about how the gods became gods. And sometimes, he would catch her holding the sphere up to her eye so close her eyelashes would brush against the rough surface.
Today, however, Aello reminded him of a goddess of death. In her left hand, she held her labrys. He only saw the double-bladed ax when she was about to call down vengeance. Her back was straight, and her eyes locked on the other ship.
"Meriones!" She called. "Let Boreas catch us."
The men's rowing faltered. Meriones let go of the railing and, on legs used to the relentless shifting of the ship, made his way up the short flight of stairs to the stern deck.
"If we let them catch us, we're all going to die," he snapped.
"They've killed my sister, and now they come for me. I will not let them run me to the ground like a coward when I am so close to my godhood," Aello snapped back, her scarred hand hefting the weight of her ax. "He will not hunt me the way he hunted my sister. I will have his head, drink his blood, and use his bones to make my throne."
Meriones grimaced. He knew her threats weren't idle. She’d once attempted to make a throne of bones. She would do that to Boreas and much more if she could avenge her sister, Okypete.
"If we can hold out until we reach the coast, we'll have a chance they will turn back," Meriones said.
Aello ignored him, her full attention on Boreas' ship. He could almost see Boreas standing at the prow if he squinted hard enough. The Thracian was unmistakable with his long black beard and broad barrel chest.
She rubbed absently at her knees, where the bronze legs cupped around her knee joints. Meriones always wondered how she survived having both legs cut off or how it happened. She never told how or who made the legs that allowed her to walk.
Aello fumbled with a pouch at her side and took out two gray-green leaves, putting them in her mouth and chewing slowly, never taking her eyes off the other ship. "I will take the salt from the waves and sunlight from the sky and bathe Boreas in his blood," she whispered. "I feel your gaze, Meriones. I know you keep secrets. I can hear your brother crying out from Tartarus. He and all the men that were lost fighting the Trojans. If only they knew."
Her voice broke into a laugh. Meriones glanced at the men sitting on the narrow benches, leaning on the oar shafts. The look in their eyes reminded him of the men who were about to attack the walls of Troy. They were scared. The men saw the same thing he did when Aello started ranting—they saw her as a creature of death—a bad omen.
He was so close to his desire that he wouldn't throw it away on this mad creature.
Meriones took a firm hold of her shoulders, careful not to jostle her too much. She still held the Book of Thoth and her labrys in her fists. He needed to get her below deck before she scared the men more than they already were. They would likely take their chances jumping overboard and swimming to shore if she scared them too much. They were only aboard because he promised them they would all be gods when they returned to Crete.
"Come, Aello, let us go below and rest," he said, sliding his hand around her neck and tilting her face to his. All traces of the girl he once knew were gone. Her soft, round cheeks had leaned out, leaving her cheekbones more pronounced, and her eyes now had fine lines at the corners.
Meriones always thought Aello was beautiful, but the years had stripped away her gentle innocence. He pulled himself tight to her body, rocking his hips once so she could feel his hardness. She stood still, her eyes unfocused and her pupils dilated, as she continued to chew the leaves. She never fought him when she was like this. Her movements were always sluggish, and her mind weak. He tugged her arm, and she followed.
Hours later, a sliver of land glowed golden in the waning light as the sun slipped below the horizon. Meriones saw that Boreas' ship was still behind them, but they had slowed and furled their sails. He prayed to the sea gods that everything would go to plan.
He held the Book of Thoth in his callused hand. The milky white Orb explained where to find Ambrosia, the food of the gods. The problem was, he didn't know how to read it— he still needed Aello— for now anyway.
It was only half now. Aello and her sisters split it in two using Aello's labrys. Aello and Okypete took half, and her other sisters, Podarge and Celaeno, took the other.
Meriones tried to stop them. As Aello raised the ax to split the Orb, he'd acted on instinct and lunged for it, trying to pry it from Aello's grip until her sister, Podarge, the nasty bitch, sunk her bronze talons-like nails into the top of his hand, leaving four deep punctures. The jagged holes were still red and swollen and had only worsened over the weeks. Meriones' hand ached when he flexed his fingers to where he could barely hold his sword.
The Orb glittered milky white with gold flecks running through the inside. The outside was smooth except for the thin ridges that encircled it. Looking around to see if the men were watching him, Meriones held it to his eye like Aello had done. The ridges were ridges; he couldn't see anything. He needed Aello to tell him how to read it.
Later that night, Meriones found Aello sitting on the ship's prow. It would be easy to give her one forceful shove over the railing and watch her hit the dark water.
"Have you ever wondered if the goddess Artemis looks down at us and laughs?" She asked, staring unblinkingly at an outcropping of three massive rocks near the horizon line far in the distance. The largest rose above the waterline, like a small mountain. "We are no more significant than ants are to us. Artemis could crush us without a second thought."
Meriones tightened his grip on the pummel of his sheathed sword. Her ramblings always unsettled him. "Why Artemis? Shouldn't your thoughts be with the god of the sea? We're at his mercy."
Aello finally turned, blinking, and drew her eyebrows together. Her eyes were no longer dilated and dreamy but focused, and the glare she leveled his way unnerved him.
"When Boreas catches our ship, you will lead the men to fight," she rasped, holding her hand palm-side up, her long, curving bronze talons waiting like a trap. "I'll have the Book of Thoth, Meriones."
He fought the snarl that made his lips twitch. Without a word, he dropped it into Aello's hand, and she snatched the broken Orb to her chest. Her shoulders relaxed as she ran a finger over the ridges.
"It's a book that sings a song, you know, in a language only the gods know. Do you know the words? I do," she said and laughed.
Was the bitch taunting him? Meriones would soon be laughing, too. Soon, he would take his rightful place among the ancient ones. He would let her lead him to the Ambrosia, and he would be the god among men.
Throughout the night, the men navigated the dark coast of their homeland, using the moonlight to see.
Meriones turned to see Aello still staring at the moon entranced. "Aello, I need to know where the Ambrosia is. Show me how to read the Orb."
She didn't answer, only sitting slumped to one side on a barrel filled with fresh water. Her mouth was slightly ajar, and her breathing labored. Tears welled at the corner of her eyes before spilling over and tracking down her cheeks, creating long streaks of the black paste she still wore. Meriones grabbed her by the arm and dragged her below deck.
Whenever he tried to talk to her about the Orb or the location of the Ambrosia, she cried. Meriones swallowed down the anger and rage that bubbled up, but he couldn't hold it in, and he pulled back his hand and slapped her face, stinging his palm.
Aello sucked in a breath, stunned, but the tears didn't stop. She started to mumble in a broken voice. "The song, the song, the god's song. It can't be for you! It can't. You can—"
Meriones let loose another slap. "You will tell me how to read the orb!"
Aello shook her head and bared her teeth at him. Thin rivulets of mucus and blood ran from her nose.
"Enough of this madness!" He growled. He needed her to stop this behavior and focus.
Before his next slap could connect, she ducked, and as fast as a lightning strike, she swiped his face like a cat.
Sharp talons flashed. Meriones reeled back, holding his face. He’d forgotten she was wearing her bronze talons or how fast she was.
Aello's talons were as sharp as any blade, fitting snuggly over each fingertip down to the first joint. She hissed and held up both hands, flexing her fingers, ready to swipe again.
Still holding his cheek, Meriones took several steps back until his heels hit the steps that led above decks. "Fine, you can stay here until you tell me how to read the orb."
Aello didn't answer him; she only watched him through bloodshot eyes as he backed up the steps and shut the heavy door, locking it.
One of his men, Milo, handed him a water-filled skin. "Did you kill her?"
"No," Meriones replied, splashing the water on his face the best he could. The blood and water ran down his neck and over his bare chest.
"We'll need to stitch those," said Milo.
Meriones nodded and sat on a barrel at the back of the stern where the rest of the men couldn't see him as Milo went to work carefully, stitching up the deepest slash first.
"Why?" Asked Milo.
"Why what?"
"Why didn't you end the creature's life? Are you afraid Hades will come for you?"
Meriones closed his eyes as the needle began knitting his skin together. "She hasn't told me how to read the Orb."
"Maybe one of her sisters or the temple priestess—"
"Her sisters have disappeared. The last sighting of their ship was past Pylos. As for the temple, the high priestess and I aren't exactly on friendly terms," replied Meriones, thinking of the old hags at the Temple of the Rhea.
Several minutes went by as Milo continued his work. When he stepped back, he frowned but dipped his head. "It will do."
Meriones moved his cheek ever so slightly. The pain had numbed into a dull ache. He wondered if the slashes would refuse to heal like his hand. It didn't matter; it would heal when he found the Ambrosia.
There was a thump, and then another sounded below.
"Is she trying to take the door down?" Asked Milo.
Meriones unsheathed his sword without a word and went to the locked door. Another thump sounded, then another. It wasn't the door Aello was hitting.
Lifting the heavy bar, he opened the door and stared into the darkness. He saw and heard nothing. Slowly, with his sword raised, he took the first step, followed by another, until he stood on the bottom step, still seeing nothing.
Was she hiding? A first for her.
"Aello, come out where I can see you."
The ship shifted, and Meriones braced his hand on the stair railing, letting his sword lower as he regained his balance. Another thump, and within a heartbeat, Aello was behind him, snaking a thin, muscled arm around his neck. Pain laced his side, and he cried out as she shoved him forward. He turned and tried to grab her, but she was already topside. He scrambled up, holding his side.
Aello hissed and swiped at Milo.
"Get her!" Meriones bellowed over the men's shouts.
Aello held up her labrys, one of the axeheads wet with blood— his blood. He noticed other things about her, too. Her layered skirts, short-sleeved jacket, jewelry, and armor were gone. She wore only one of his kilts belted at the waist with several small bags tied to it. Under her other arm was a sheep's bladder filled with air, and he realized what she was about to do.
"No!" Meriones shouted. He lunged for her, but she was too fast. She turned, and before he could regain footing, she'd leaped over the ship's side.
He stumbled to the railing and saw Aello paddling with one arm while the other was looped around the air-filled bladder, barely keeping her afloat as her bronze legs threatened to carry her down to the bottom of the sea.
"Get her back. We'll lose the Orb forever if she drowns," growled Meriones.
He turned and saw the men huddled together like a herd of frightened sheep. Milo was the only one who looked out to the west of them. "Look."
Meriones did and saw two of Boreas' men jump over the side and dive into the water even though they were still far from shore.
"At least Boreas' men aren't cowards," he stuttered, slumping down to the deck.
Tiredness washed over him, the sharp pain in his side becoming numb. He shivered as hot blood seeped between his fingers. He vaguely heard Milo's curses and shouts to the men to help as the darkness washed over him.
***AELLO***
Chapter 2
Aello blinked water out of her eyes. The muscles in her arms burned with fatigue, but she knew if she stopped now, the god of the sea would catch her. The rock outcropping she had studied earlier was so close now. She needed to go a little farther. The bladder under her arm became thinner and less buoyant, and the water lapped over her head.
She closed her eyes; her legs were a dead weight. Aello knew if she unfastened them, they would sink, and she would have no problem swimming to the rocky outcrop, but if she did that, she wouldn't be able to get away if Meriones or Boreas caught up with her.
A wave crest lifted her, and for a single moment, she glimpsed a tall woman standing on the beach of the largest of the rocks to her right.
That couldn't be right, thought Aello before she dipped below the waves.
On the next crest, she looked again to see the woman beckoning her. She was tall, taller than any man she'd ever seen and wore a white draped tunic that pooled around her feet with a wide golden belt. The woman smiled when their eyes met.
When Aello surfaced next, the woman was gone. It was just a vision. She was so exhausted and closed her eyes.
"Wake up, girl, wake up!"
Aello's eyes flashed open as the undertow of a wave caught her, ripping the bladder from her grasp and pulling her under. She flailed her arms, trying to right herself, and scraped against sharp rocks. She realized it was the seabed and pushed off, stroking upward, her lungs burning. She broke the surface, gasping in a breath, and realized that her legs had dragged against the bottom of the shore leading up to the cave entrance, the tide dragging her in.
The entrance vaulted high above her as she pulled herself onto the narrow sandbar with shaky arms. She lay on her stomach and rested her forehead on the cold, damp sand. Aello decided she never wanted to leave this spot as she focused on taking long, deep breaths and remembered the woman who had stood on the inlet at the cave's entrance. With everything she had left, she pushed herself into a sitting position and saw no one. Not a living person, animal, or plant was with her.
She was alone.
Aello squeezed her eyes shut. It was just a vision. The woman had Okypete's face, after all, and her sister was dead. She wanted to scream out her heartache from the loss of her sister.
Aello knew it was her fault, and the hurt in her heart would never go away. Boreas might have struck Okypete down with his sword, but he would never have found her if Aello's hubris hadn't gotten in the way.
"Ambrosia," whispered a voice over her shoulder.
Holding her breath, Aello turned her head to look over her shoulder. She was still alone. The voices came to her daily now, and it was hard to ignore them. She found herself wanting to answer them back— to appease them.
She patted her sides, feeling for the pouch that contained the Book of Thoth. Pulling the Orb out, she examined it and wondered if it would still be readable. She hadn't dared to read it under the watchful eye of Meriones.
Meriones, she thought. How could she not have seen his true self after all these years? She sighed in regret at all that time she’d wasted, pretending to be crazed and out of her mind. Even though she heard the voices and saw phantoms like the woman on the beach, her mind was still whole.
When Meriones boarded her ship in Thera with his men, he reminded her of the boy she'd grown up with; however, as the weeks passed, he'd become increasingly aggressive and demanding. Tonight, he'd pushed her too far by hitting her. As soon as she realized where along the coast they sailed, she had to make her move. She'd only hoped that Boreas hadn't been watching when she dove into the water.
She untied the second pouch and shook out the contents: two flattened black rocks, both the size and width of her palm, and a fine-tipped stylus. She brushed the sand off one rock and leveled it into the sand while holding the other rock over it, feeling the peculiar push the two stones always created. Next, she grabbed the Orb and, with a quick word of hope to the mother goddess, placed the Orb between the two rocks. It wobbled and held, suspended between the two stones, as it slowly began to spin faster until the grooves and ridges were a blur.
Aello licked her dry, cracked lips and raised the stylus to the Orb with a shaky hand. She gently ran the stylus against the whirling surface, only for the Orb to fall to the sand. She huffed and snatched it up. Sand stuck between the grooves of the surface. Quickly rinsing it in the water behind her, she tried again, forcing her hand not to shake.
Maybe it wouldn't work any longer now that it was only half? She thought and brushed the stylus over the surface once more.
A faint sound filled the cave, interrupted by the Orb's missing half. The sound grew louder the faster it spun. Words came in a stilted, choppy voice—a woman's voice. The goddess's voice echoed throughout the cavern.
Aello concentrated on the words as the voice described stars in the sky and far-off lands—near and far away—where Ambrosia grew. If she was right about one of the locations, Ambrosia grew in this very cave. Aello let the Orb fall to the sand and looked around. The new dawn's light barely intruded into the darkness, but it was enough to see the cave's back wall. She gathered the rocks, Orb, and stylus and stuffed them into their pouches.
With a grunt, she checked the straps that attached the metal legs to her stumps, which ended just under her knees. Aello promised she would pay tribute to the goddess for her good fortune. The bronze legs, created by the architect Daedalus, were a marvel. He was also the man who showed her how to read the Book of Thoth. She gathered her legs under her and stood with another groan, carefully making her way along the wall, running a hand against the cold rock. Light, reflected from the water, bounced across the wall, moving with the waves.
Aello stopped short when a reflection caught the light, winking every few seconds. She moved closer to it and ran a finger over a milky white stone, much like the Book of Thoth. She also noted that the sand bar ended and dropped abruptly into the black depths. Just under the surface of the lapping water, she saw another milky white stone and, under that, a cut stone that protruded, forming a perfect arch.
It couldn't be, could it? A doorway under the water? Aello closed her eyes tight. No, no, it was just her imagination. There was no doorway. She opened her eyes and looked again— it was still there.
A shout broke the silence. Aello whipped her head around at the sound of men's voices echoing throughout the cave and saw Boreas's ship sailing by the front of the cavern. She crouched on instinct, making herself as small as possible.
The cave was still dark enough that they didn't know she was there, but she knew Boreas; it was only a matter of time before he would explore the cave. So what to do? She couldn't swim; she was too weak and tired, and her legs would act like an anchor and drag her to the bottom.
"I think I saw movement," shouted one of Boreas' crew.
Aello flinched; so much for the time.
You must seek the Ambrosia, the voice murmured.
Aello knew the voice in her head wanted her to jump in the water. She knew she either had to jump into the water or have Boreas gut her the way he did her sister.
She wanted to scream out her frustration but instead started inhaling and exhaling before holding her breath and jumping into the water, letting herself sink. Her feet hit the bottom, jarring her, and she realized she wasn't that far under. To the left of her was the doorway with stairs leading upward.
Her heart pounded as she climbed the stairs, breaking the surface with an inhale of sweet-scented air. She frowned and climbed the stairs to realize that the small cave— no, a large room—was bathed in a green glow.
Aello moved to the closest wall, where the green moss shimmered with an internal light. "Ambrosia," she said aloud, her voice broken and harsh.
The sweet aroma intensified as she scraped a small clump off the wall and shifted it. The scent reminded her of a lush forest after a rain. She ate it and was overwhelmed by a taste that reminded her of berries and honey. She scraped off another clump and ate it and another, noticing that the stumps of her legs no longer ached as much, and the fatigue in her arms, shoulders, and back eased.
She realized something else, too; the men's voices in the main cavern seemed too loud. Aello furrowed her brows and walked over to a hip-high ledge, pulling herself onto it. Three holes the size of her face overlooked the cave below. She peered through the closest one.
Boreas and two crewmen pulled a small boat onto the beach. The big Thracian pointed to her footsteps in the sand and watched as they followed the prints until they abruptly ended. She wanted to laugh at their confused faces.
Aello wished she knew their mother language, but she understood by their gesturing and pointing toward the mainland: There's nothing here. Let us be on our way.
Aello breathed a sigh of relief when Boreas and his men paddled away. She slid down the wall, sitting with her legs dangling over the edge. She leaned back, closing her eyes. Her mind was quiet for the first time in a long time, and she smiled; the goddess was with her, and soon she would stand among them
***Chapter 3***
Boreas
Boreas, lord of the sea and steward of the lands of Thrace, studied the narrow strip of sand that lined the cave wall and wanted to shout out his frustration.
Squatting down, he poked a finger into the damp sand, still holding the peculiar bird-like prints, but Aello was nowhere to be found. How had the Harpy gotten away?
"The prints stop at the waterline," Boreas growled between bared teeth. He nodded to the spot where the prints ended at the waterline at the far back corner of the cave. The water was dark, and he couldn't see past the first few feet.
Notus and a third man, Caden, studied the prints, slowly crumbling away. Neither man dared say a word.
Boreas ran a hand down his beard, the coarse red-brown strains catching on his callused palm. He replayed the events of only moments before. Aello suddenly appeared on the main deck of Dark Storm, mostly striped of her clothes and armor, swiping her ax back and forth, creating an arc of space between her and the crewmen. Then Meriones appeared, holding his side and shouting at the men. Aello, turning and jumping into the water. That had surprised him. He didn't think she would ever abandon her ship.
For mere seconds, he watched as she was barely able to keep her head above water. Boreas could still feel the jolt of fear as he watched Aello struggle to keep her head above the waves. He knew she must have had no other choice other than to escape with the Book of Thoth. Without hesitating further, he ordered two of his most trusted men into the water.
"Perhaps Poseidon snatched her from the shore and dragged her down to the depths after all," murmured Notus as he peered into the water.
Boreas glanced at Notus. His younger brother always had a fear of the gods, but Notus didn't know Aello and her cunning ways the way he did. If anyone was able to survive and escape, it was the evil witch.
"We will return to the ship and send a messenger to the Cretan. He has until sunset to either recover the Orb or recover Aello," Boreas declared, his voice steely.
"Yes, my lord. Do you truly think she's still alive?" Asked Caden as he maneuvered the boat back into the water.
Boreas thought about the question and the memory that bubbled up the first time he met the cursed woman. Seven years ago, well after the Greek forces landed on the beach of Troy, he saw a lone ship with black sails. He knew it as a Cretan vessel, but unlike the wide-hulled ships of their merchants, this one was slim, with wide panels of bronze that molded to the sides of the hull. The ship's prow was bare of any ornament unless you counted a thick rod of bronze, ten men long and thick around as a tree coming to a point like a horn. He had never seen anything like it but instinctively knew it was for ramming ships. It was a war vessel and one that made his brows furrow. He'd underestimated the silly, spoiled Cretans.
Then he remembered seeing Aello for the first time and the punch of fear to his stomach. She stomped her way across the deck of the ship, her bronze armor shining in the sunlight and a cloak of midnight, and pointed her labrys directly at him. She shrieked at the top of her lungs, the sharp sound carrying over the water, and knew the woman would be a force to reckon with.
He accepted her challenge that day. This creature—a small, fine-boned female—wasn't afraid of him, whereas the invading Greeks and their allies gave him a wide berth.
Boreas grunted at the memory. "I know she's alive as I know my face. We will see her again."
"She will want vengeance for her sister, I think," said Caden.
It was regrettable that he had killed Okypete. He wanted her alive. She would've made a valuable bargaining chip to bring Aello under his control and to do his bidding, but she — like Aello— refused to tell him where to find the Orb. He never even had the chance, if he was honest. Like all cornered predators, she'd turned and went on the attack, shucking the feathered cape from her shoulders and raising her labrys and a long, thin knife she'd pulled from her boot. She hissed and fought until the bitter end, taking the lives of three of his men before the fatal stab to her side.
Then there were the other two harpies, Celaeno, the traitor of Troy, and Podarge, the Witch of Athens.
"We need to find Orithyia."
Notus furrowed his heavy brows. "Do you mean Podarge?"
Boreas nodded his head. He never understood why the four women who called themselves harpies changed their names. "A ridiculous name for a ridiculous woman," Boreas lifted his lip in a sneer, but there was no real heat.
He couldn't, no matter how hard he tried, hate the woman. Orithyia inflicted him the same way Helen inflicted that idiot Trojan prince. No, his obsession with her would never be so great as to bring a pointless war to his people. The Princess Orithyia, or rather Podarge, was too feral of a creature for any man to tame. Where Helen was ever the dutiful wife like a soft spring breeze that brought comfort, Podarge was like the wild north wind that blew down from his homeland's mountains.
"She will hate you with the same ferocity as Aello," said Notus.
Boreas studied his brother. He knew the truth of Notus' words. "Orithyia or Podarge or whatever name she calls herself won't stop me from finding the Book of Thoth and the Ambrosia."
"Then let us be on our way," insisted Caden as he and Notus took up the oars and shoved off the beach and into the inlet. Immediately, the current grabbed the small boat, pulling it out of the cave.
Notus shook his head, his black curls clinging to his sweaty face. "We are bound by oath to help Meriones take the Cretan throne, Caden."
Caden shrugged muscled shoulders from endless fighting and rowing. "We struck that oath on the condition that we obtain the Ambrosia. Aello is gone. Let Meriones fight his brother on his own if he wants to rule Crete that bad."
Boreas placed both hands on the ship's railing, studying the Cretan ship. His friend had a point. After years of being allied with the Trojans, the war had only brought him massacred men and a Thrace that was on the brink of famine, with not enough men and women to farm, hunt, and protect the land from being overrun by the Illyrian tribes to the west.
He should have returned to Thrace and started rebuilding his Kingdom, but he was close to obtaining Ambrosia. How could he stop now?
"We are not leaving until we know if the orb is gone as well," said Boreas and motioned for Caden to man the rudder.
Out in open water, Boreas grabbed the pole and flag tied to the bottom of the small boat and waved it high over his head, signaling to his ship. A return flag answered him.
"Make for Darkstorm," Boreas commanded, taking up the rudder once again.
Notus raised his eyebrows in surprise but said nothing.
As they neared the Cretan ship, Boreas took out a curved piece of clear crystal and held it up to his eye to bring the view of the ship closer. He couldn't see any movement until the wind changed directions, and he caught the faint sound of shouts. Something was happening in the Darkstorm, and Boreas wanted to know what it was. He needed to see Meriones.
A dark-haired man with a smooth face and panicked eyes leaned over the ship's side. Boreas raised a hand, but the man didn't respond. He didn't even look at him.
What was happening? Boreas thought and grabbed the bronze hook, taking care that the length of rope attached to it wasn't tangled, and prepared to throw it up and over the railing.
"You aren't thinking of boarding?"
"Look there," said Caden, pointing to the port side of the Cretan ship.
As they watched, Darkstorm, the terror of the sea, shuttered and listed as the hull scraped against the coral reef just under the waves.
Boreas threw up an arm with a closed fist, signaling for Notus and Caden to slow the boat. The two men pulled hard on the oars as Boreas hefted a stone tethered by thick ropes over the side until they drifted to a stop mere feet from the reef, causing clouds of sand to billow up from the bottom.
Nothing moved on the Cretan ship. No men appeared. Boreas grabbed his spear, the leaf-shaped spearhead catching the early morning light.
Boreas saw his ship closing in. "Get the men prepared to board Darkstorm."
***Chapter 4***
Aello
Aello woke and focused on the rough cave ceiling above her. Streaked with the glowing Ambrosia over the dark gray stone, she let out a long breath and flexed her arms, the muscles stiff but not sore as she expected. She thanked Posiden for not dragging her under and groaned as she pushed herself up.
Cold air whistled through the three holes in the wall, and the dripping of water created a peaceful lullaby. Aello sat up, her back stiff from sleeping on the unforgiving rock ledge. Her skin itched with salt, and her hair was a heavy mass of knots.
Aello couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so heavily. No loud creaks of the ship, no men stomping around on deck, no disturbing dreams of the goddess beckoning her in a relentless pursuit to join her. Nothing at all except blissful quiet. And for the first time, she didn't know what to do. No plans, scheming, no one to talk to— No sisters.
"That isn't true; I am here always," whispered the voice over her shoulder.
Shifting in the direction of the soft feminine voice, Aello saw the same woman who had stood on the inlet to the cave. The phantom's form wavered like smoke, but Aello could make out that she wore Okypete's face again. Her heart squeezed at the sight of Okeypete's narrow nose, wide-set brown eyes, and pointed chin— a nymph. She shut her eyes and willed the figure to go away. She would not talk to it; she wouldn't.
"You have been through so much in your life."
The voice was closer now, and for a brief moment, Aello could feel the soft brush of fingers over her shoulders.
Aello wrapped her arms around her and hunched forward as grief ripped through her. She couldn't hold the shriek of agony in her heart any longer. She screamed; the sound echoed off the walls until her throat was raw. She slumped back, gasping for breath.
Memories reared up of the day she'd first met Okypete. Her actual name was Cassia, the niece of the queen of Crete, and she was no more than a child on the cusp of womanhood when she arrived at the temple of The Mother. Okypete's soft dark curls framed her round cheeks, and her wide, innocent eyes would shake like a leaf in fear, convinced that the Minotaur of Crete who roamed under the palace of Knossos would snatch her into the darkness.
Aello shook her head to clear the memories. She needed to focus. The light shining through the holes was bright as noonday, but had only a couple hours passed or a day? For all she knew, Boreas and Meriones waited for her to emerge like a rabbit from a hole.
Looking around the room with new eyes, she noticed things she failed to see before. The long ledge she sat on reminded her of the carved stone benches similar to those at the temple where she grew up. At the opposite wall was an altar. Instead of being hip-high like those of the temple of the Mother, the flat surface was neck-high. She raised herself, clinging to it with her fingertips for a better look, and realized that the flat surface, thickly furred with dust, was a smooth white rock much like the Book of Thoth.
Aello wrinkled her brows and brushed the dust away. Along the rim, carved in a single line. She pressed a finger along the faint markings. She knew how to read two languages, Mycenaean and her mother language of Crete, but these glyphs were different, except for the symbols of the Mother and the Moon.
She plucked up more Ambrosia and noticed behind it, in deep swirling lines, a glyph chiseled into the wall. Frowning, she swiped away more dust and Ambrosia, revealing long rows of wedges, dots, and lines.
Aello's mind raced as she swiped away the thick, clinging moss as fast as possible to reveal an outline. Tipping her head to the side, she stepped back until she saw the outline. Every muscle in her body tightened. She knew what this was.
She knew it was a map of some kind. It was so similar to the primitive ones she'd sketched as she sailed, skirting the coastlines of the endless islands of the sea. She still stored stacks of scrolls from each voyage she had made during the war in the hull of Darkstorm.
The map etched into the stone altar was nothing she'd ever seen. Not a single coastline or island looked familiar, and the writing she hadn't a clue what it said. Absently, Aello tried to scrub her fingers through her hair, pulling the strains loose as she studied the outline.
"The voice of the gods," whispered the phantom.
She listened. Voice of the gods? Like the Orb? Aello waited for the voice to continue, but it didn't speak again. However, she could feel the air change, a hot breeze pressing in on her and licking over her skin. Sweat beaded on her temples, the back of her neck, and the base of her spine. She absently wiped the sweat at her temples, scraped up more Ambrosia, and ate it. The room became fuzzy; her vision darkened around the edges.
It was as if the room no longer wanted her there, as the air heated to the point she resisted taking a deep breath. Aello looked at the water-filled stares. More of the steps were underwater, and she knew the tide must be in, but she was not sure for how much longer.
Aello's eyes watered as she noticed the bronze parts that made up her legs were also warm to the touch.
The feeling of being watched once more had her look to the altar again, but nothing was there. The Ambrosia glowed brighter.
At the last moment, just as she couldn't take any more of the sweltering heat, she scraped off two palm-sized sections of the Ambrosia and stuffed the spongy moss into the pouch with the Orb.
Without looking back, Aello plunged into the water, the coolness quenching her overheated skin as the weight of her legs brought her to the bottom.
Moments later, she broke the surface of the water, careful not to cause any ripples, and swam to the beach, noting it was thinner than before. The tide was in, and with the rise of the water, the current that dragged her wouldn't be as strong. She bent her head from side to side, popping the muscles, and stretched her arms above her head.
Checking the knots on her pouches and the buckles of her bronze legs one last time, Aello waded into the water until she could feel the current tugging on her. With measured strokes, she let the current pull her along, cutting across the water diagonally until her legs brushed against the gravelly bottom of the opposite shore. She crawled, her arm muscles only feeling the barest fatigue. She wasn't even out of breath as she crawled on hands and knees up the beach, tucking herself the best she could under the low-lying branches of a juniper tree.
Her eyes burned in the bright light. After so long in the dim light, it blurred her vision. Aello rubbed her eyes and looked anew. Dotted along the coast were white sand lilies in full bloom, clumped together like clouds. When was she last seen the delicate flowers bloom so abundantly? Years, she thought, and found it hard to untangle the memories that often crowded her mind.
She could remember vividly running down the beach as a small child; sand stuck to her legs, the sunshine beating down on her shoulders. She could remember picking the lilies so the high Priestess could crush them and mix them with oil. Then, another memory of a priestess marking her with fragrant oil and lily as she knelt on the beach, her head bowed and calling her Harpy.
Aello rubbed the spot where the Priestess had swiped the oil across her forehead and cheeks. Each memory was crisp and clear, but she couldn't recall how much time had passed between them.
A loud, panicked shout brought Aello out of her daydream. Leaning forward, where the branches blocked her view, she could see that far down the beach, caught in the surf was Darksorm. Aello's back stiffened. Her beloved ship was listing to the side, its prow jutting upward.
"They crashed Darkstorm? Damn them to Tartarus, they crashed my ship!" Aello stuttered in a broken voice before she doubled over coughing.
Where was the goddess now with her soft words? Why couldn't she be there to commiserate that her beloved ship beached on a reef like a dead fish? She pulled each of her legs to her chest, preparing to stand, when shouts echoed up from the beach. How could she have missed the second ship anchored not far from Darkstorm? Boreas stood at the prow, watching as he tided the chin strap of his conical-shaped helmet.
There were more shouts as men descended from Darkstorm from ropes thrown over the side, and in the middle of the chaos, Meriones, his full weight supported between two men, waited for the Thracians to board.
Aello waited for the gripping fear for her childhood friend, but the emotions of sadness and regret escaped her. She couldn't blink as the men faced each other and waited for Boreas to deliver the first blow, but nothing happened. Not a single man raised a spear, knife, or fist. What was happening? They stood there, lined up, facing each other. Their mouths moved, and their hands gestured to the shoreline and the cave's inlet, where her secret place was.
Absently, Aello wiped the dirty back of her hand across her mouth. She tasted salt and sand. Dirt compacted under her fingernails, and grit crusted her lashes. Her bronze legs were dull from the saltwater, and the padding that protected her stumps from the metal was still wet; the sand had chafed her skin. Her hair was so knotted and tangled she feared she would have to shave it like an acolyte of the temple.
Aello gritted her teeth. It was nothing compared to the disgust that crawled down her spine as she watched Boreas and Meriones talk and share a cup of wine as if… as if she witnessed the coming together of two friends.
"I will see your bodies dragged to the depths of Tartarus, where you will never see the light of day," Aello invoked aloud. It wouldn't be enough, she thought.
Men from both ships swam to shore, and soon after, Boreas and two men helped Meriones into a small, shallow-draft boat.
Aello bared her teeth as she watched Boreas support Meriones. She had to go to the temple and ask for sanctuary from the high Priestess Megaera. Aello paused. Was it Megaera who was the high Priestess at this temple? Or was it her sister Alecto? She gripped her head with both hands and squeezed her eyes shut. Flashes of faces—of the women who embodied the goddess. One who served above all at each of the five great palaces of Crete.
"Think," her voice a whimper as she thumped her head with a fist. "You have to think."
Tears rolled down her cheeks and plopped into the sand between her legs. She sniffled. "You have to think," she said and thought back. When she was a child, she remembered a woman with dark eyes, a narrow chin, high cheekbones, and a rounded stomach, pregnant with a child. She was sent to Zakros but couldn't remember the reason. She was the sister, no not a sister, a cousin to the old King Deucalion? No, she was a sister of the queen's line. The queen's sister, Megaera. She was sure of it.
She wiped her nose and crawled further up the bank, out of sight of the men slowly descending the beach away from her and toward the trading road that led to Zakros. She needed to move and get there before the men did. She stood and lumbered to a narrow path, most likely made by grazing goats, that cut through the valley to the mountain and the backside of the palace complex.
Hours later, Aello sat heavily on a flattened sun-warmed rock and wiped sweat off her forehead. Her stomach twisted with hunger. The Ambrosia, as much as it aided in healing her wounds and exhaustion, did nothing to fill her stomach. She needed food and water, or she'd never reach the temple and Megaera.
She stood and wobbled slightly on the uneven rocky path. The bird-shaped feet of her legs were excellent for balancing on the smooth planks of a ship's deck but not so much for rocky paths.
Shadows moved across her path, and she looked up, shading her eyes against the strip of blue sky above. Vultures, wings stretched out, catching the wind, wielded away to the west. Her lips cracked into a smile as she pushed forward. She knew the goddess watched over her, now leading her to safety. She stumbled, catching herself on the jagged rocks towering on either side.
The palace of Zakros squatted in the valley of two mountain ranges, with a curving bay to its east. It was built into the hill at the foot of the mountain that led to what was known as the Gorge of Death...