Against this technology? Probably not. When Lydia tipped acid over the metal ball, it didn’t make a scratch. Only a lightning storm that nearly killed us.
“Then we destroy the cave itself,” I say. “Bury the vessel and whatever else is down there.”
Kostis hunches over the chart, lost in thought for a moment. “Less than hour’s journey,” he calculates. “If the cave is underwater, we’ll need diving equipment.”
“I’ll take care of that. You just get us to Thera.”
I leave Kostis to navigate while I descend below. I haven’t been to the storeroom since I tracked Lydia’s wet footprints. The gagged SS soldier groans beyond the engine room hatch, but there’s no way I’m going in there to check. The smell of death is bad enough outside.
After a few minutes searching shelves I find everything we need: a wetsuit to fit Kostis – my cloth will work fine – goggles, flipper fins, and a box of flares. The oxygen tanks are heavy, and it takes an extra trip to carry two up to the wheelhouse. There are no harpoons in storage, so we’ll have to rely on the Welrod and TNT.
When I return the second time, Kostis points toward the bow window. Yellow lights twinkle in the night sky. An uneven, roughly straight pattern, too low and clustered to be stars. As we sail closer, I make out splashy froth where the Aegean Sea meets smooth, almost vertical cliffs. The island of Thera.
Kostis navigates across the bay and weighs anchor a half-mile from the southern tip. The water is choppy, and the Aegir pitches and yawns in the battering currents.
“No other ships,” I observe, adjusting my goggle strap until it’s tight.
The air tank is another parachute, a heavy burden on a child’s back. Hopefully it’ll be less cumbersome once we’re underwater. Kostis swaps his clothes for the wetsuit. His scarred chest doesn’t look so bad in darkness, but a toothy grimace shows the pain hasn’t fully gone away.
I exit first, feeling the spit of seawater on my face as I step onto deck.
“I could go down there alone,” Kostis volunteers. “Check it out.”
“I’m thirty years old!” I shout over crashing waves. “Stop treating me like a child.” I smile to let him know I’m joking.
I clamber over the guardrail and check the vessel is still secure in its pouch. Kostis removes a flare from the box, then stows the rest in the supply bag. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to store flammable materials and explosives together, but there’s no other way to prevent the dynamite getting wet.
Kostis places the Welrod on top, and seals everything up tight. He sets off the flare. Chemicals inside react with a crackly hiss, generating a brilliant red, spouting flame that lights up the deck.
“How do we find the cave?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I reply with a shrug. “Use our eyes?”
I dive in the water and place the bubbling mouthpiece between my lips. The murky black sea turns crimson as Kostis jumps in behind me. He holds the flare up, using it to light our way. It’s surprisingly deep here, and sandy fog obscures the seabed. I swim down, holding the buoyant pouch against my chest to prevent it floating away. The cave could be anywhere. How are we supposed to find it?
Kostis’ hand brushes my leg. I think it’s an accidental knock until he taps my knee again. He moves the flare behind his back, and jabs his finger toward the pouch. Now the water is darker, I notice a dark blue glimmer around the partially exposed vessel. I’m still wearing gloves, so I should be able to touch the black metal without weakening.
I unfasten the pouch and take out the ball. This glow is fainter than I’ve seen previously, and only covers a third of the sphere. Is it a signal? A beacon of some kind?
Kostis points in the same direction as the glow. Obviously he thinks so. We swim on a roughly easterly heading, parallel to the coast. And deeper, since the indicator light – I don’t know what else to call it - is on the lower half of the vessel. The seabed is visible now: a cloudy mix of seaweed, rocks, and swirling silt.
Kostis throws away his flare. As it descends into a ditch, the seawater around us turns from red to deep purple, and then blue. The vessel leads us deeper still to a vertical, cliff-like rock face. It may even be one of Thera’s cliffs. The blue light points toward a patch of tough, overgrown seaweed. Is the cave behind there? How are we meant to get through solid rock?
Kostis clenches his fists, presses his curled knuckles together, and brings them quickly apart. He repeats the mime, then points at the plants. I nod to indicate my understanding, grab two loose, wavy strands of weed, and pull.
Why were there no harpoons? Sharp spearheads would make our task much easier. Even with two years of training, I lack physical strength, and have to rely on an old man to do the heavy labour. Kostis rips away a clump of seaweed. There’s no rock behind, only dark, hollow emptiness.
I help rip a wider hole, cup the vessel in my hands, and swim past the seaweed into… Is it a tunnel? A pipe? Swirly, faint blue patterns move across the curved walls, the vessel’s glow distorted by the water. The tube we’re in is enormous, over thirty yards across. Smooth. Carved from solid rock. Perfectly level. There’s no way it’s natural. Someone built this passage, and I think that someone was Athena.
Kostis swims on ahead, and I have to kick my legs fast to keep up. The tube goes on and on. At this rate we’ll run out of oxygen long before we reach the end. We must be under Thera by now. Are people living on the island above us, unaware this passage exists? That wouldn’t be surprising. We’d never have found the entrance ourselves without the vessel to guide us.
The tunnel bends up at a forty five degree angle. Grey, pointy rocks ripple on… Is that the surface above us? The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel?
Kostis races me, winning by a few seconds. When I reach the subterranean cave, he’s already swam to the thirty foot-wide island in the middle. Prolonged submersion in water has washed the dark cream off my face, and rinsed the dye from my hair. I tuck my wet, sandy brown curls behind my ears and look around.
The chamber is vaster than it appeared from the picture: a giant, jaggy-ceilinged, air pocket surrounded by… I think it’s limestone, though the light grey rock appears pale blue in the vessel’s glow. The only natural entrance has caved in, making this the perfect hiding place. More stalactites must have formed since Athena drafted her sketch. There are lots of sharp spikes above. Stable for now, but an earthquake would be deadly.
Kostis climbs onto the island, ditches his oxygen tank, and opens the supply bag. “There’s something over here!” I wish he wouldn’t shout, because the echo is deafening. “Stay back!”
Kostis lights a flare and throws it inland. Before it’s even travelled two feet, I see the mermaid. She sits – if that’s the applicable term for a fish-tailed woman – at the centre of the island. A crystal-eyed, mouthless, black metal creature, with her lower body encased in a stalagmite. The limestone deposit must have formed over centuries and built up around her. Trapped in a natural prison, and no sign of life. That’s comforting. With those sharp-taloned, claw-like hands and her armoured shell, that beast would slaughter us.
“Another vessel,” says Kostis. “You were right.”
I drag myself onto the island to get a better look. The air tank is heavier out of water, so I discard it next to Kostis’. The vessel in my pouch stops glowing. We’re at the end of our journey, and no longer require guidance. I step out of my flippers and approach the flare-lit mermaid.
“This cave isn’t very stable.” Kostis takes two dynamite charges from the supply bag. “A few explosives should bring it down.”
I’m not paying attention. The vessel on the cave floor is identical to the one my father found. A sphere of black metal with periodically shifting symbols. But I’m more interested in the diamond. It’s a foot tall and made from the same material, resting in a square hole. What secrets does it contain? I move closer.
“What are you doing?” Kostis yells.
“Athena wanted us to come h
ere,” I say, kneeling before the diamond. “To find this.”
“You’re starting to sound like Lydia. Calling her Athena, treating this woman as a goddess. Who knows what she wanted? Or if her symbols were even meant for us. We came down here to destroy the technology. Not to be tempted by it.”
I’m the one who persuaded Kostis, but blowing all this up seems narrow minded now I’ve given it more thought.
“What if we can use her knowledge to help people? We can’t destroy it yet. Not without seeing what it is.”
“Edith! Don’t touch—”
He’s too late. I’ve already taken my gloves off. Before Kostis finishes issuing his warning, I place my palm on the diamond. My fingers glow blue as energy drains into the black metal. I feel faint, and then I’m showering under a purple waterfall.
Where am I? The plant life is all… strange. Honey-brown trees spiral around each other, coming close but never quite touching. Gooey branches bear fruit shaped like pears, except with strawberry-red, transparent skin and glowing… Are those eggs inside?
The sun and misty sky are both a pinkish shade of violet, which explains the coloured water. A four-winged, blue-feathered bird with a barbed tail hovers by a tree, rips open a fruit with hooked talons, and devours an egg. Nothing is familiar. Wherever the diamond brought me to, it’s no place on Earth.
I’m no longer myself, either. The woman whose body I inhabit – a downward glance shows me she’s female – is a giantess. Her skin is scaly green like a reptile’s. She jumps up, floating as if in low gravity. Above the trees I see an immense, sprawling city of silver domes and glistening clear spires. Blurred by water drops, but the view is undeniably spectacular. London is a tiny village by comparison.
“What is this place?” I shout. But no words come out.
All I hear are shrieks and growls from unseen wildlife. Am I in Athena’s body? Is this one of her memories, stored in the diamond? I try stopping time, but it doesn’t work.
“Why did you come to Earth?”
No answer to my silent question, so I’m left to wonder. I think back to the ‘tomb’ we unearthed in Egypt. There’s a blue flash and I’m there, watching hollow planets fly round the circular chamber. The structure is intact, with no breach in the wall.
Does the diamond respond to my thought patterns? Is that why the picture changed? Black metal hands – Athena in her armour? - touch symbols on the pillar. It responds with brief slurps, similar to the noise made by drinking water. The sounds are of varying length and pitch, arranged in groups with gaps in between. Could this be a spoken language, with words and syllables? I can’t understand any of it.
Athena suddenly stops what she’s doing, turns, and kneels down. A black metal hemisphere is attached to the underside of an extended seat. Rippling with lightning, pulsing purple. My best guess: it’s a bomb.
Athena sprints across the room, metallic feet clanging on the floor. She sits on a seat and grips the edges tight. A black metal plate extends across her face, crystal lenses slotting over the eyes.
There’s a loud bang. The explosion is probably white, but appears rainbow-coloured. Is the light being distorted by the crystal? When the glare fades, there’s a charred hole in the wall. Earth – the actual planet, not an image – is visible in the starry wilderness of space.
Lightning discharges from the tomb’s - the ship’s - central pillar. A bolt strikes Athena. Electricity conducts along her black metal armour, causing her to shake violently. I hear more slurping sounds, at a much higher pitch than previously. Is she in pain? Athena didn’t record feelings, so I can only guess.
The image flickers, accompanied by whistling static. I’m running low on energy, but I can’t leave yet! Such vivid and detailed memories, and there’s so much I don’t know. Did the lightning damage Athena’s blood? Is that why she couldn’t heal? Why we found no body in the armour? Why she left vessels and these memories for others to find? Why she tried to drink liquid on the Parthenon roof? And who planted the bomb? One of her own people?
All those questions can wait. There’s one I’ve been asking myself for seventeen years.
“What was in the vessel?” I demand to know.
I imagine the black metal ball, the blue liquid mixing with my blood. A flash, and I’m looking at a white circle on a black background. Not the straight edged, angular shape of my sketches, but genuinely round. Underneath that is a dissection diagram of a fish. No. It’s a machine – a schematic with wires and electrical components. I saw circuit diagrams at the Prussian academy, but these are far more advanced and compact.
There are machines in my blood? They’d have to be miniscule, on the scale of atoms and molecules. It’s impossible. But if Athena’s people could draw squares so precisely, maybe they can work with tiny electronics.
The image fades to black. Have I returned to the cavern? I think so. The floor I’m on is rock hard, chilly, and damp.
“Did you enjoy your rest?” my sister asks.
She’s here! My eyelids flutter open. Irene’s right above me. Bare foot pressed on my chest, hands behind her back, cutlass sheathed in a weight belt. Salty water drips off her tight black wetsuit onto my face. I’m mystified how my sister found us. Then I see her wet, blonde hair tied in a ponytail. And remember the ‘sailor’ with binoculars on the U-boat.
“You never—” she begins.
I freeze time, but I’m too tired to sustain it for more than a fleeting moment.
“—learn, little sister.” Irene says tauntingly. “Hide, and follow you to the prize.”
Irene’s immense figure blocks most of my view, but I see enough to assess the situation. The cave lit by flares around the island perimeter. Surfaced submarine a few yards offshore, holes in its hull clogged with seaweed. Kriegsmarine on the island and deck, armed with MP40s, Mauser rifles, and stick grenades. Kostis slumped against a stalagmite, beard striped with blood, being guarded by the SS soldier we left alive on the Aegir. Welrod pistol in the German’s hand. Dynamite emptied from the overturned supply bag.
So much has happened. Did I pass out? We’re outnumbered and trapped underground with an army of Nazis. Based on Irene’s smug expression, it’s about to get worse.
“Now you’ve woken up,” she says, pulling the vessel from behind her back. “Shall we see if this works?”
Why did I have to be so curious? Using the diamond has left me drained. Paralysed. Powerless. There’s nothing I can do to prevent my sister adding those machines to her blood, and then she’ll be unstoppable.
Chapter Twenty: The Amazon and the Mermaid
Defiance.
That’s my only option. Delay my sister while I recover. In my present condition I can’t even get up to fight her. I maintain eye contact, determined not to show any weakness.
“No matter what you do,” I say doggedly. “I won’t… open the vessel.”
“It’s your blood, isn’t it?” Irene asks, breaking into a smile. “It’s too weak.”
She moves her foot over my body, hammering my joints with her heel. Doctors do it to check whether limbs are responsive. Mine aren’t. Irene’s in control, and loving it.
“Pathetic,” she heaps on the scorn. “But I don’t need your help. An old Greek lady we know was kind enough to lend her hand.”
Irene beckons to the Kriegsmarine captain, the man I saw her with on the conning tower. He brings over a harpoon. The harpoon. The one Lydia removed from the Aegir‘s storeroom. Five years later, her severed hand still grasps its bent wooden shaft. The flesh hasn’t decomposed at all. The machines must be preserving it.
“Did you think to check the weapons cabinet while you were on the ship?” Irene says. “It was there all along. My memory’s not as good as yours. Not yet. But I can remember a few symbols. The important ones.”
“You’re nothing compared to Lydia,” Kostis says, looking away. “You never will be. Altering your blood doesn’t change who you are. If someone hasn’t killed you a thousand years from now,
you’ll still be an evil, self-serving wretch.”
“Will somebody shut him up!?” Irene yells.
The SS soldier strikes Kostis’ head with the Welrod’s barrel. My mentor used to spend entire sessions blocking attacks like that, but severe injuries have left him unable to protect himself. A second whack, and he slides down the stalagmite, unconscious.
I try to move, managing to lift my back two inches off the ground before my arms buckle under me. The sealed leather pouch rolls off my chest and strikes the cavern floor with a clang. Nobody turns to look. All eyes are on the other vessel, the one my sister holds.
Black metal turns dark blue as she brings Lydia’s severed hand into contact with the ball. Irene uses the knuckles to press the sequence of five symbols. Watching sailors gasp with astonishment as the petals open.
Irene’s glassy pupils reflect the glowing liquid within the container. “I was named after a goddess,” she says. “Now you can watch me become one.”
My sister slits the inside of her wrist with the harpoon. Blood oozes from the deep, two inch cut, but her grip on the vessel remains tight.
“Eirene, goddess of peace,” I say cynically. “What are you planning to do? Stop the war?”
“Wars end when one side wins.”
Irene bends her forearm backward, rotating the vessel so liquid pours down a petal and onto her wound. When lightning bolts fork across her skin, she carries on smiling. When the metal ball slips from her limp, floppy fingers, she kicks it into the lake. Sailors back fearfully away. All of them, even the men on the U-boat.
My sister paces toward me, eyes fiery with hatred. A storm rages, her arm at the epicentre. Inrushing wind sucks trails of fluid into her blood. Skin forms, sealing her wound. Burn marks on her hand – scars left over from Aldwych – vanish. When Irene presses the harpoon spearhead into my neck, she’s fully healed.
“Not a bad body to be stuck with.” Irene stretches her free arm so it bulges under the wetsuit. “I’ll always be young, strong, and…” She removes her ponytail clip, letting shiny blonde hair fall on her shoulders. “…beautiful.”
Edith Clayton and the Wisdom of Athena Page 24