by Eric Flint
"Why would you want my assistance?" he asked, warily.
"I'm scared," she said, with disarming honesty. "I have never been on my own in the wilderness and . . ." She paused and looked at him with dark eyes shadowed with kohl, so strikingly different from the blue-eyed Achaeans. "I trust you."
He did not know how to answer that as his own life had not inclined him to be overly trusting. He adjusted the hang of his shield to give his hands something to do. "You should not be so accepting of people, Princess. So why have you come here?"
"Up there," she pointed up the hill, "is a ruined temple to one of the old gods. It contains a great treasure that I intend to claim for Joppa."
"A great treasure," he repeated, thoughtfully. "Perhaps I shall accompany you. No doubt Joppa would reward me handsomely, for seeing you and the treasure safely home."
"Oh yes," she said, happily.
They continued to climb but the way became steeper and rockier and they were soon forced to scramble. The girl was fit; life in the rich splendour of a Maryannu palace had clearly not spoilt her, but even so, she eventually tired. He halted to allow her to rest and drink. Naturally, she asked questions.
"How did you end up here, Perseus, with not even a water skin for refreshment?"
"I had to leave my ship rather too quickly." He laughed. "The captain liked to play dice but he was a poor loser."
"Did you win much?" she asked.
"Everything he had," he said, with a grin. She laughed with him, showing even white teeth. "I am surprised that your father sent you so far from Joppa on such an errand," said Perseus. "Hasn't he any sons or heroes to call upon?"
"Daddy thinks that I am attending a ceremony up in the hills behind Joppa." She giggled happily. "The queen, Cassiopeia, chose me for the task. She's my stepmother and she thinks daddy cossets me too much. The temple is magical, you see, and I'm good at magic." She tried to speak matter of factly but her tone betrayed her pride in her skill. "So you had to leave all your belongings on your ship?" she asked, adroitly switching the focus of the conversation back to him.
"I had nothing on the ship other than what you see," he said, bowing. "I lost all else when I had to leave Siffa in a hurry."
She clapped her hands with pleasure. "Your life is full of fast exits, Prince Perseus. Do tell me the story."
"It was all caused by a bad oyster," he said, solemnly.
"A bad oyster?" she repeated.
"The army commander had one for lunch and was obliged to go home early. I was the captain of mercenaries guarding his villa. Unfortunately, when he burst into his bedroom, which was on the way to his personal privy, I am afraid that he caught me bodyguarding his wife's body rather closer than he thought necessary. The lady screamed 'rape,' of course, so I had to leg it out of the window, taking her necklace with me tangled up in my sword belt."
"You kept your sword on," she said, faintly.
"I was on guard," he said. His tone suggested surprise that she might doubt his commitment to duty. "Anyway, I thought it wiser to head straight for the docks and find a ship leaving immediately rather than go back to the barracks for my kit."
"I see," she said, biting her lip. "I think we should go as there is still a way to climb."
She watched him carefully as he stood up. "Was she worth it," the princess said, abruptly. "The commander's lady, I mean."
"Oh yes," he said, adjusting the weight of his shield evenly across his back. "She was worth it."
The princess was rather cold with him after that, speaking only in monosyllables. He gave up trying to talk to her and concentrated on finding the best route, which turned out to be a steep, rocky path that had probably been made by goats. As they climbed, he pondered on her strange behaviour, which reinforced his view that women were odd creatures.
"Does your stepmother have any daughters?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Why do you want to know?"
"No reason," he said. "And you are the daughter of the old queen, so the inheritance passes through you?"
"My husband will be king one day." She looked at him with open suspicion.
"Unless something happens to you first," he pointed out. "In which case, your stepmother's eldest daughter inherits."
She looked at him and bit her lip again. In his opinion, Queen Cassiopeia was right to consider that her father had given her far too sheltered an upbringing. Achaean princesses absorbed palace politics with their mother's milk but this girl seemed to be entirely ignorant of the realities facing those born in the shadow of a throne.
The path disappeared at the base of a rock, which he examined carefully. It was worn and cracked by the sun and rain, offering plentiful handholds. A small overhang near the top presented the only real challenge. "I want you to go up first, Princess. Don't worry, I will follow close behind." He smiled, reassuringly.
"Not too close, I trust," she said, tartly. She sniffed, packing a world of meaning into the sound, and swung herself up, moving across the rock wit graceful agility.
He smiled to himself and followed her up, watching her closely, a duty that was not wholly distasteful. At one point, she slipped, stones scrabbling from under her and he slammed an arm across her back, holding her against the rock.
"Careful, Princess," he warned.
She nodded and resumed climbing, while he watched her admiringly. He had come to the conclusion that she really was a plucky little thing.
"I can't go any further, Perseus," she said, clinging to a ledge. The overhang loomed above. He climbed alongside her and round her, being careful not to knock her slight body off the rock.
"Wait here," he said, reaching up over the protruding rock and grabbing for a handhold. When he found one, he pulled himself up one-handed, until he could also grip with his other hand and scramble onto the top of the overhang. The summit of the island was flat with grass and trees. Insects buzzed, and the sickly aroma of decay filled the air.
"Perseus, are you still there?" Her voice wavered slightly.
He lowered himself onto his front and hooked a leg around a convenient tree. Then he pushed himself out over the overhand, taking a firm grip on the rock with his left hand and reaching down with his right.
She stretched up for him but their hands did not quite touch.
"Push off the rock and jump towards me," he said, encouragingly.
She stared at him and reached again, her hand shaking, but it was too far.
"Have courage, Princess. Only a little jump and I will catch you."
She closed her eyes and leapt. His hand slapped smoothly onto her wrist, holding her tight. She swung for one heart-stopping moment in mid-air, before he pulled her up beside him. He rose to his feet, lifting the princess onto hers, but she continued to cling to him.
"What's that smell?" she asked.
Before he could reply, she fainted away, becoming a dead weight in his arms.
* * *
"You pig," she said, hitting him in the arm. "So I don't like heights."
He held his arms up in supplication. "Peace, Princess. I was only teasing. It was very brave of you to jump into space."
"I told you," she said, turning brown eyes on him. "I trust you."
"So you did, lady." He concentrated on watching his surroundings as they walked. The high plateau stretched before them but it was thickly wooded in places, which prevented him from seeing very far. The Achaean automatically eased his sword in its sheath, assuring himself that it would slide smoothly free in an emergency.
"So what was that foul odour?" she asked, plodding beside him.
"A dead goat," he replied, succinctly.
She digested this, chewing her lip in what he realised was a characteristic habit. "That's a good sign, surely. If a goat was up here then there must be an easier way off this plateau than that overhang." She shuddered at the memory.
"That's true," he said, flatly. "But I would like to know what killed the beast."
He held a branch back for her and she du
cked under his arm.
"Why are you so frightened of heights?" he asked.
"Because that's how my mother died," she said, unemotionally. "They made me watch when they threw her off the citadel walls."
"I'm sorry, Princess. You should have said and I would have found some other way up. Of what crime was your mother accused?" he asked, carefully, because the official charge against a disgraced queen rarely bore much relation to her true offence, assuming there was one at all.
"She was not being punished, as she had committed no crime. It was a matter of blood. Joppa is cursed by the Gods and only the sacrifice of magical blood from the royal line protects the city from destruction. It should have been me, you see, that was the gift but my mother chose to sacrifice herself, instead." A tear rolled down the girl's cheek. She wiped it away, angrily.
He had underestimated this princess as her life had clearly not been the smooth voyage that he had assumed. It was not unknown in Achaea to "gift" a royal female child to the Gods. Now, he understood why King Cepheus held his daughter so closely. She must remind him of his dead queen and he wondered how the new queen felt about that. They emerged from a thicket to find a building so ruined that walls were barely waist high, except for a corner piece.
"That doesn't look like a temple," she said, doubtfully.
"Far too small," he agreed. "But it was built of stone, like a little palace. Maybe it was a priest's house, in which case the temple ruins can't be far away."
Something moved on the edge of his vision. The Achaean's reflexes had been honed by years of living by the sword. He pushed the princess back against the high wall with his right hand and, in the same motion, swung the shield off his back and onto his left arm. The Achaean grasped the metal grip on the rim and thrust the shield against the dark shape that sprang up at him. The central bronze boss hit something hard with a thud, knocking it to the ground. He drew his sword and stabbed downwards, the point spitting the animal before it could roll back on its feet. It yelped and died, voiding its wastes onto the ground.
He could see that it was a dog. More prowled around the couple, rattled by the pack leader's death, keeping their distance while trying to build up courage for an attack. The Achaean picked the largest animal out, advancing on it in three long strides. The animal stood its ground, growling and crouching down to pounce. The long bronze sword curved a glittering arc that ended on the dog's head, the heavy blade near splitting the skull in two. The beast dropped without a sound, breaking the pack's resolve and the rest fled.
"That was so fast," the princess said, wonder in her voice. "You killed the first one almost before I knew it was there."
"How do you think our people conquered the world, my lady? It wasn't just the power of our chariots and the magic of our women. The strength of our warriors had a little to do with the matter." He grinned at her, while carefully wiping his weapon on a carcass.
She curtseyed. "My hero," she said in a mocking voice, but her eyes shone when she looked at him. "I have never seen a sword used like that before. You cut at the second dog as if you had an axe."
Perseus showed her the sword. "This is a Sherden weapon from Italy. See how the blade is wide and heavy right down to the pointed tip so I can slash with it as well as slab." He made a few passes around her, the bronze flashing in the bright Mediterranean sunlight. She smiled indulgently, standing still and demonstrating total trust in his skill.
He sheathed the sword. "At least we know what killed the goat," he observed. "And that no people come up here."
"How do we know that?" she asked, puzzled.
"The wild dogs had lost all fear of man," he replied. "Well, they fear me now and I fancy that they will leave us alone in future. It's not as if they are short of food." He gestured at the dead dogs and she gave a moue of distaste. "If you are ready, Princess, we can proceed?"
The temple lay a short distance away, as ruined as the house. The roof had fallen in and the structure was overgrown with climbing plants. These old temples fascinated Perseus because his people did not build them. Achaean palaces had areas set aside as shrines for religious ceremonies and even the meanest dwelling would have a small corner dedicated to the Gods. "Imagine the effort and organisation needed to build something this size?" he said, marvelling at the stonework.
"It is difficult to see how such a small island could manage it," she said. "It must have consumed the entire energy of the islanders for decades."
"It didn't do them much good," Perseus said. "Cycladians might still rule the Aegean if they had they put their energy into fortifications rather than religion."
He and the Maryannu princess exchanged the half smug, half guilty, expressions of the descendents of conquerors.
"Was it dedicated to Dionysius?" he asked, studying the profusion of vines.
"No," she replied. "To Hekate."
"Ah, the moon lady," he said. "We Achaeans call her Artemis, the Huntress of the Night, the Queen of Magic."
"Did you know that Hekate's symbol is the dog?" she asked.
"No I didn't," he replied. "Artemis' symbol is the deer."
"Symbols are what you make of them," she said.
They walked around the ruin until they found an entrance consisting of two huge standing stones surmounted by an equally massive lintel. The doorway itself was intact, but all inside was tumbled stone and earth.
He sighed. "I fear your quest is fruitless, my lady. If there ever was a treasure within, then it is lost forever."
She pulled her bag off over her head and delved inside. "Not so, Perseus. It will be safely hidden. Now my work starts. Can you make me a fire, please?"
He kindled some wood and, by the time he had finished, she had set up a small tripod and a bowl of dark grey metal, which he examined carefully. "Is this what I think it is?"
"If you think it is starmetal, then you are right."
"Iron," he said, reverentially. "I have never seen so much before."
She sat cross-legged before the fire and set the tripod over it. "I intend to use molly, Perseus, so you should move upwind. The narcotic vapours can be upsetting for the untrained."
He hastened to follow her instructions as magic was tricky stuff. She sprinkled small flakes of a dried herb into the bowl where it curled and smoked on the hot iron. She sat upright with crossed legs, arms extended out in front of her with the palms up, chanting softly in Maryannan. He caught the repeated refrain, "Come to me, Hekate. Open the door for I give you my blood. Come to me, Hekate." She leaned over the vapour and inhaled deeply then, taking a small knife in one hand, she cut the base of her thumb while holding it over the bowl. Drops of blood fell onto the hot iron with a hiss.
The drone of insects died away and the air was heavy and still. He saw her as if she was at the bottom of a deep lake. She moved her arms slowly against some invisible resistance, like an underwater swimmer. This was no market-place magician's trick, like the spell that had scared the satyrs. This was sorcery of the highest calibre. A deep rumble sounded and the very ground beneath his feet trembled. Grinding noises, like heavy stones dragged over solid rock, sounded from the temple entrance.
She slumped forward, her head resting in her hands. He moved to her slowly, as if though treacle, to gently lift her up.
"You never cease to surprise me, Princess," he said.
It took her some little time to recover and he held her the whole time, a task that he found most agreeable.
"Now we go down into the underworld, Prince Perseus," she said.
He checked that his sword was free in the scabbard.
She laughed. "You won't need that." Then, she grew serious. "You must take nothing out from the underworld."
He followed her into the entrance to the temple. There, she gripped his hand while they walked under the lintel. His stomach lurched as if he was falling, and a gust of wind whipped past his face, then they were through. The change from the hot dry air of a Mediterranean island to the damp chill of the temple was so
abrupt that it made him gasp. It took his eyes a little while to adapt to the gloom but then he saw that they stood inside a vast building, in an aisle lined by stone columns. Torches, attached to the columns, illuminated the aisle in flickering light. The ceiling was not visible and vestibules, each side of the aisle, stretched back into darkness.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"Inside the temple," she replied. "The Temple of Thorns."
The columns were carved to resemble twisted clumps of bramble wood, complete with thorns. At the end of the isle, torches illuminated a giant bronze statue in the likeness of a woman, a huntress with three heads.
The princess followed his eyes. "Hekate," she whispered and led the way down the aisle.
"This temple is surely too big for the ruin," he protested.
"We are not in the real Temple of Thorns," she said. "This is an echo of that place in the underworld. It is a shadow created by prayers and magic. What you see reflects the religious importance of the temple, not its physical appearance, as every prayer, sacrifice or other act of magic has left an imprint."
At the end of the aisle, a wand of twisted strands of wood lay casually across the statue's feet. "There, there is our treasure," she said, triumphantly.
"That stick," he said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
"Oh Perseus," she said. "You weren't expecting gold or jewels were you?"
He shrugged and reached for the wand.
"No!" She grabbed his arm. "I have to prepare the way before we can take it."
Perseus backed off. She sat down cross-legged in front of the statue and prayed in Maryannan. He knew the language well enough to understand that she sang a hymn of supplication. It went on and on so, bored, he took a torch from off its bracket and explored the darkness beyond the illuminated aisle. Statues lined the vestibules, some of men and women who were often dressed in outlandish clothes, but many others of magical creatures such as centaurs and unicorns.
Strange demons were also carved in stone. One caught his eye, specifically, because it had the face and torso of a beautiful woman with high cheekbones and magnificent breasts but the body below the waist was snakelike, with vestigial legs. The statue's hair was a mass of serpents. The eyes painted onto the face seemed to follow him as he walked past.