by Eric Flint
Many of the statues were decorated with precious jewels and metals. In one side room, a golden phoenix rose from an egg made of silver, the rarest and most valuable metal of all. Flames of polished bronze surrounded the firebird's nest. He was reluctant to move too far from the aisle in case he lost his way, as the vestibule appeared endless, room opening into room, gems reflecting the torchlight back at him.
The princess droned on interminably as he explored.
"Perseus, where are you?" she finally called.
"Here," he replied, stepping back into the central aisle. He noticed that she now had the twisted wand in her hand.
"We must leave quickly, before the entrance closes," she said, hurrying up the aisle. He walked beside her with long strides. She was a tall girl but she still took three steps to his two.
At the door, she held his hand again and, as they passed through, he felt the same falling sensation before bright light blinded his eyes and the hot Mediterranean sun flooded his skin with warmth. At her gesture, he turned and tossed the torch back through the door, backing off as grinding stones shook the ground. He could see through the door into the temple which was just a tangled ruin again. For a moment the air was still, then a cold wind whistled around the ruin, spinning little dust devils that whipped plant litter into spirals in the air.
"Perseus, I can feel magic, something's happening," the princess said, fear colouring her voice.
The wind blew stronger and the dust devils danced, thickening as they picked up more material. The Achaean swung his shield onto his arm and drew his sword. Now the wind howled, blowing dust into his eyes. It stopped abruptly as if some master of ceremonies had signalled a halt. The dust devils hung silently in the air and then they solidified.
Ancient warriors stood before Perseus. To be more exact, they were the desiccated remains of ancient warriors that carried small, dull copper axes and wicker shields. They were naked except for tattered loincloths and the most disgusting thing about them was their greeny-brown decaying skin. Flakes dropped off as they moved with an awkward shuffling motion. Their eyes were shrunken balls in blackened sockets. They were corpses but they moved.
He recognised these animated dead from pictures on the walls of the palace in Seriphos. They were the mummified remains of ancient Cycladian warriors. Soldiers dressed like this had been mown down in their hundreds when the Achaeans had swept through the islands, and in their thousands when his ancestors' battle chariots had broken the native army on the Argolid Plain.
"Princess," he said, speaking slowly and carefully so that she would be sure to understand him. "I want you to run now. Get off the plateau and back to the village. I will join you when I can."
The first warrior attacked, moving surprisingly quickly for a desiccated corpse. The Achaean blocked the blow of its axe with his shield and stabbed straight through its wicker shield into its body. There was a hiss of air and a foetid smell filled his nostrils. The thing backed up a step but, instead of falling, it examined the rent in its belly with a sort of quizzical interest before attacking again. He knocked it down with his shield then had to dodge an axe that a mummy swung at him on his unshielded side. He retaliated with a sword slash that removed the thing's head. It sat down with a thump but soon climbed back on its feet and resumed the fight.
More of the warriors converged on the Achaean. He jumped over an axe swing and advanced, trying to draw the creatures away from the princess. He sneaked a quick glance over his shoulder and was infuriated to see her standing in shock, eyes closed, clutching that damn stick. Then he didn't have time for anything but a desperate battle for survival.
An axe cut across his chest, leaving a bloody furrow and, in retaliation, he chopped at the thing's legs. They detached easily but the corpse still crawled back towards him, pulling itself along with one hand while waving its dammed axe with the other. He had to dismember the wretched things to stop them but he never had enough time. Whenever he was in a position to do real damage to a mummy, another attacked forcing him back on the defensive.
The damn girl was chanting something now and could make out the words "Father Zeus." Why had the silly girl not run when he told her to? He stabbed his sword into a mummy where it stuck and, before he could free it, another dead warrior pulled his shield down. Two more clung to his legs and a copper axe was raised high above his head.
A blue-white thunderbolt flashed in from behind, hitting the animated thing with the axe and blowing it apart into flaming fragments. More thunderbolts smashed into the warrior mummies. They were so bright that they left black lines on his vision. The corpses exploded in fire, burning fiercely with crackling green flames. Within seconds, only ashes were left, dispersing gently in the light breeze that slipped through the trees.
She still stood where he had last seen her, eyes closed holding the twisted wand out, like a lance. The wood was covered in sharp thorns and blood dripped from her hand. He was certain that the spikes had not been there before. He was so angry that he had trouble speaking so he reached for her, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards him.
"When I tell you to run, girl, you run. Do you understand?" He shook her like a child.
"I had to save you or die trying because it's all my fault. My spell should have protected us from the curse that strikes anyone who removes the temple's treasures. I was so sure that I had the Goddess' permission to take the wand but I must have done something wrong. I'm sorry." She was in tears.
The fury drained from him. How could he be angry with a woman that was prepared to die fighting at his side? Achaeans always claimed that the Maryannu had gone soft in their rich palaces but she was living proof that Achaeans knew nothing.
"No, it wasn't your fault," he said, soothingly.
The wand was smooth again, completely without thorns. He took it from her and turned her hand palm up to reveal skin torn by deep punctures. Gently, he kissed each wound.
* * *
The princess chattered cheerfully as they walked down the hill in the clean sunlight and he felt his own spirits lift as they left the plateau. He strode jauntily through the trees, inhaling the pine scent deeply. "The palace towers have roofs coated in gold leaf. They seem to burn with orange flame in the setting sun. Oh Perseus, you will love Joppa." She took hold of his arm.
"It sounds wonderful," he smiled at her. Now it was all over, she bounced like a puppy dog and it was impossible not to be infected by her mood.
They stopped by a stream to drink, slaking their thirst in its cool, clean water. The princess filled her water skin to sustain them for the rest of the journey. "I have never been away from Joppa before. I thought it would be exciting to have an adventure but I do believe that I am homesick. Do you miss Argolis?"
"Hardly, Princess," he laughed. "I was a baby when my mother was exiled."
"Well Seriphos, then?"
"No. I don't have many happy memories of the island. I recall the odd tavern girl with affection but little else."
"Beast. You only say these things to tease me." She put her hand in the stream and splashed water all over him.
"Right, you are going to pay for that," he promised, wagging his finger at her.
"No," she squealed, scrambling away from him.
He launched himself after her, scooping her up into the air.
"A cooling bath will dampen your energy, my lady."
"Put me down or I will put magic warts on your nose. What will your tavern girls think of you then?" She wriggled in his arms. "Put me down, you rotten bully."
He dropped her back on her feet. "What?" she said, sounding disappointed.
Perseus pointed to where four men watched them, three spearmen and a man with a sword, who must be the officer.
"Mattra," she yelled, happily and threw herself towards the swordsman.
Perseus seized her wrist, pulling her roughly back. "Stay behind me."
"I'm sorry, Princess. I hoped that this would not be necessary. I hoped that you would die on the
mountain of some mischance," Mattra said, reluctantly.
The Achaean drew his sword and slipped his arm through the shield grips. He advanced on the men, shield in front of him. The spearmen lowered their weapons and sheltered behind long, tower shields. Mattra drew his sword but Perseus noticed that he hung back, leaving one of the spearmen dangerously exposed.
Perseus made a feint at the pair of spearmen on his left, who reacted by huddling together defensively behind their shields. Perseus immediately broke off his attack and charged the lone spearman on his right. The man jabbed at him with the thrusting spear. Perseus pushed the spearhead aside with his shield, stepping in close. In one continuous fluid move, he stabbed over the long shield into the spearman's throat. Blood pumped, the man dropping with a strangled gurgle.
A flicker of sunlight reflecting off metal caught Perseus' attention. He raised his shield in time to block Mattra's sword thrust. Perseus swung his own bronze sword in an overhead hack, droplets of the spearman's blood spraying off the tip in a red fan. He hit Mattra's shield with a crash, forcing the man to one knee. The Achaean thrust his shield into Mattra's face, knocking him over backwards.
The spearmen came out of their defensive formation and attacked, forcing him back. Using the extra length of their weapons, they could keep the Achaean out of sword reach as long as they worked together. Perseus had to break the deadlock before they wore him down. He unlooped his shield from around his head. Measuring the range carefully, he threw it like a discus. It caught a spearman under the chin, snapping back his head. Perseus heard the neck break with a distinct crack.
The Achaean immediately turned on the last spearmen, throwing himself at the man. Perseus twisted to avoid the panic stricken thrust of the spear point. He smashed his sword down on the man's helmet. The spearmen pitched forward and Perseus stabbed him in the back as he fell.
Mattra was back on his feet. He took one look at his slaughtered spearmen and threw down his sword and shield in surrender.
"Why, Mattra, tell me why?" the girl asked. "I thought that you were my friend. Why did you betray me?"
"I was your friend, Princess, but they were too powerful. They gave me no choice," Mattra replied.
"You always had a choice, friend," said Perseus. "You just made the wrong one."
Casually, Perseus stabbed Mattra under the ribcage. Their eyes met for a moment, before Mattra slid backwards off the blade. Perseus wiped his sword on the man's kilt then efficiently looted the bodies.
"When I was small he used to tell me stories of battles and great warriors," she said. "Was it necessary to kill him?"
"Yes, Princess, it was necessary. What else did you expect me to do with the traitorous bastard? Make him promise to be a good boy in future? You were in danger as long as he was alive. He intended to spit you like a dog."
She nodded, accepting his decision. Nevertheless, she bent down by his body, closed Mattra's eyes, and said a prayer for his soul. She was very quiet for the rest of the journey. They reached the fishing village the next day.
The hamlet was a mean place, clinging to the side of a small hillock. The only buildings in stone were a small headman's villa and a modest temple to The Lady. A ship's mast, with furled sail, projected over the single story buildings. Two naked children played "sticks" in the sole street that meandered through the village but a woman appeared and pulled them into a hut. Once or twice, Perseus thought he saw shadowy faces observing him through half-shuttered windows. A pig stopped rooting beside a hut long enough to look them over, snorting as if it did not like what it saw, before strutting off with an indignant gait.
Perseus rounded a cowshed and got his first look at the galley moored against a ramshackle jetty. The sleek black warship was completely out of place among the flimsy fishing boats. He could smell pitch, indicating that the warship was well maintained, as one might expect of a royal transport.
"Your ride awaits, Princess," he said.
"I arrived on this island keen to have an adventure. It was going to be all such fun," she said, softly. "I was so eager for new experiences but sometimes the Gods mock us by giving us what we wish for."
A sailor on watch spotted him and rang a bell causing a man to stick his head out of the cabin aft. The lookout yelled something and the head disappeared.
Perseus' boots clumped on the wooden jetty. An officer, by his clothes, came out of the cabin and jumped down from the warship onto the jetty, followed by a man wearing the armband of a ship's mate and a small group of sailors. Perseus and the princess halted in front of the officer.
"Captain, this is Prince Perseus of Achaea," she said.
"I see," the captain said, clearly not seeing at all. "What happened to Mattra?"
"He ate something that disagreed with him," said Perseus, lightly.
"What?" said the captain, confused.
"Four inches of bronze," said Perseus, with a feral grin.
"Prince Perseus will be accompanying us to Joppa," she said.
"I have been thinking, Princess," said Perseus. "I suspect my arrival in Joppa might precipitate a political crisis. I have survived being thrown out of two cities as an unwanted prince. I don't fancy risking my life or yours on a third, so I won't be coming with you."
"But I promised you a reward, Perseus, and I have nothing with me of sufficient value."
"You underestimate your charms, lady. I shall take my reward now."
He swept her into his arms and silenced any protest she might make with his lips. She stiffened momentarily before melting against him. Time stood still and power flowed through her and into him. Her lips were hot, her skin burnt against him, and his pulse hammered in his veins. She was his, completely. He wanted to throw her down and take her on the jetty but a tiny spark of sanity flickered in the back of his mind. This was sex-magic, the most powerful sorcery of all. It washed through him like a flame, consuming everything, like nothing he had ever known. She was all women and she was like no other woman. She was his, completely.
The rational part of his mind told him that you do not mount a Maryannu princess in front of her boat crew so, seizing the thought while he still could, he gently disengaged her arms from his neck and stepped back. It took every scrap of will power that he could summon. The pull of her body was overwhelming. Her skin glowed and her body undulated in waves of power.
"Princess?" he said, trying to break the spell.
"The Goddess came," she whispered.
"The Lady?" Perseus asked, nervously. The Lady of the Labyrinth was the most powerful of the Old Gods and even the charioteers were wary of her.
"No. It was Aphrodite of the Stars. She said that you will . . . that we will . . ." Her voice trailed off.
"We will what, Princess?" he asked.
"Nothing." Her face closed like a mask, cutting off her thoughts.
Perseus looked around him. Normally, he kept a watchful eye on his surroundings but, for those few moments, he had lost track of everything but her. The captain watched the princess intently, licking his lips. Residuals of magical power still sounded in Perseus' head like a bell, letting him see every thought crossing the man's mind.
"Pretty little thing, isn't she?" asked Perseus. "The magic is strong within her. She would be worth a bag of gold on the auction block at Amnisos."
"Yes," the captain said absentmindedly before looking at him in horror. The man's hand brushed his belt and he lunged at Perseus, with a curved Lycian dagger that appeared as if by magic. It was a practiced move that must have won many a fight in the dockside taverns but the power still flowed in Perseus, surging backwards and forwards. For all his speed, to Perseus the captain seemed to move in slow motion, as if the air around him had thickened into water.
Perseus caught the man's wrist with his right hand, squeezing so hard that bones and tendons ground between his fingers, forcing the captain to scream and drop his knife. Some of the crew started forward but the mate ordered them back. Perseus seized the captain around the throat w
ith his free hand, pushing hard. The captain scrabbled ineffectually but Perseus was implacable, bending his head back further and further. The man's neck snapped with an audible click and Perseus let the body fall with a thud on the jetty.
"Oh Gods," said the princess. "Doesn't the killing ever stop?"
"Not for people like us, who were born within reach of a throne. For us, it only stops when we are dead. Hasn't this trip taught you that yet, girl? If not, then it's time you grew up," Perseus snarled, with genuine anger. He liked her, but she had to toughen up or she would never survive the deadly dynastic politics that swirled through a palace and he had discovered that he desperately wanted her to survive.
The mate spat on his captain's body. "He liked to involve himself in the affairs of the great ones of Joppa, because he imagined himself to be important. I will take the princess safely home to her father; my life on it, Prince."
"That's right, your life on it," said Perseus. "If anything happens to her, if anyone even threatens her, I will know and I will come with bronze and fire and an Achaean warband at my back. Depend upon it and make sure they know it in Joppa."
The mate nodded and Perseus knew that he grasped the threat. The Maryannu aristocracy made sport of the crude arts and manners of their Achaean cousins but no one laughed at an Achaean warband. The highest honour conferred on an Achaean warlord by his peers was "sacker of cities," a title even given to Athena.
"So this is goodbye, then, my prince," she said.
"For the moment," he replied. "But one day, I will come for you."
"I know," she said. "The Goddess told me."
He would like to know what else the Goddess whispered to her.
"Trust no one, Princess. No one, if you want to survive," Perseus said.
"No one but you," she said, unclipping a small silver pendant from her slender neck which depicted a crooked cross, the good luck charm of the Sky Gods. She went to hang it on his neck but it wouldn't fit, so she doubled it around his wrist instead.