Page 23 of Crown of Serpents (Curse of Olympus #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“Perseus! Perseus! Get up, you damned fool!” Kleos barked as he shook him. Perseus blinked, his head spinning from the wine. “Get up, you bastard. Now is not the time to catch up on your beauty sleep!”

Groggy, Perseus pushed himself upward and was suddenly flung from his sleeping cot into the nearby table, his shoulder slamming against the wood as a wave rocked the ship.

He scrambled to his feet once more, fighting to keep his balance as the floor lurched again. The wooden stool skidded across the room, crashing into the ship’s hull with a splintering thud. Moments later, the galley tilted toward the other direction, and he lost his footing, colliding with the wall just like the chair had.

A sharp pain shot up his spine, banishing any lingering effects of the alcohol. How long had he been asleep? His room was enveloped in darkness, so he couldn’t tell what time it was — only that it was the dead of the night.

“Gods, Perseus, sort yourself out fast!” Kleos’s voice boomed, “The entire ship is in chaos! Get up and help us on deck!”

Kleos lurched toward the door on the tilting floor. When he climbed the ladder, a blast of wind nearly knocked him of balance, carrying horizontal sheets of rain.The hair on Perseus’s arms stood as he beheld the madness unravelling on deck.

Massive waves, nearly as tall as the ship itself, barrelled toward them from all directions. The clouds hung low and heavy, obscuring the sky so completely that not a single star shone above to guide their way. The sea and the sky were locked in a furious battle, the water around them churning and frothing as thunder roared above.

The men scrambled across the deck in disarray, desperately trying to draw the sails and secure the splintered oars that rolled from side to side with each punishing wave. The force of the waves must have snapped them when someone had foolishly tried to row against the tempest. Atticus and Meliton manned the rudder, their teeth clenched as they fought to hold the course against the insurmountable pressure of the water. Aetos hung in the ropes with the other men, trying to draw the sails that billowed in the wind.

How were the sails still up? Even a greenhorn sailor knew that furling the sails was the first thing to do when caught in a storm. Otherwise, the galley would be driven off-course, or worse, the sail would rip to shreds. There was no chance in Hades that this experienced crew didn’t know that. Had the storm caught them off guard?

He raced toward his men, grabbing a loose rope that escaped Mikis’s hands — leaving them bloodied and torn. Perseus threw his weight into the rope, instantly feeling the full fury of the storm surging into the sail. It was a power unlike anything he had ever encountered. Of course, he’d weathered storms before. At the end of the regular fishing season, most of Seriphos’s fishermen, including Perseus, would go out on day-long trips to catch any fish they could. They often risked sailing toward storm clouds to fill their nets before it started. They dealt with consequences later, enduring icy downpours while anchored. But this … this was a different beast altogether .

Perseus grunted as he pulled with all his might. Usually, he would lower the sail gradually by relaxing the halyard, but that was not an option now. The sail billowed overhead, the howling wind threatening to tear the fabric. They had to reel the sail to midship, or all it would take was one gust of wind … and snap. With a sickening crack, the wind changed direction, and the sail swung from port to starboard, flinging Perseus across the deck. Pain seared through him as he careened into the railing. The sailor beside him wasn’t so lucky as a tick rope smashed into him with such force that he was thrown into the churning cauldron of the Aegean Sea.

“Man overboard!” Perseus bellowed, his voice drowned out by the howling wind.

He clung to the rope, now the sole force restraining it, as it ripped through his hands, slicing them open. Perseus couldn’t hold on much longer. He needed all the strength his crew had to offer.

He glanced over his shoulder, frantically searching for help. Where had Kleos gone? He scanned the deck, but his friend disappeared. Perseus’s stomach dropped as the relentless rain needled his face, arms, and bare chest. Had he fallen into the churning sea as well?

“Has anyone seen Kleos?” He yelled, panic slowly building in his chest.

No one answered. They were all consumed by their tasks. The main sail's halyard had become entangled, and Aetos had climbed the mast to untangle the mess. Perseus then realised that Kleos was not the only one missing. Three sailors were busy tying down the smaller sail in front. Elias tried to drop the anchor, though the Sea would be too deep here for it to reach the bottom. Another group had tossed a rope overboard, desperately trying to save the unfortunate sailor. It was a futile attempt. The man had already drifted too far from their reach. Neither Kleos nor the king’s epetae were anywhere to be seen on deck.

Perseus snapped his attention back to the billowing main sail overhead. It did not matter who was missing and why. They would all be dead if they did not tie this sail under control .

“Orestes! Come here and help me haul this sail down!”

The dark-haired veteran rushed to his side, throwing his weight against the sailcloth with a grunt. They gripped the rope, their hands slick with blood, and rain, pulling with all their might. The ship buckled and bent beneath them, and Perseus nearly slipped on the drenched deck, but Mikis caught him just in time. The young sailor had rejoined the fray, strips of dirty cloth tied over his bloodied palms. Together, they wrestled the sail midship, lashing it down.

Perseus might have felt relief then, but moments later, the hiss of tearing sounded over the relentless wind. He whipped his head to where Aetos was now descending the mast. The old captain had finally untangled the halyard, but it was too late. A giant rip now marred the mainsail, the fabric whipping uncontrolled in the wind.

“Mikis! Take two sailors with you and climb the rigg! You three will tie it down! Orestes, come with me; we need to lower the main sail NOW!”

With only the briefest nod, Mikis did as instructed. He ran for the loose coils of ropes, pulling two sailors with him as he began climbing the rigg with his lanky arms.

Perseus and Orestes hurried to the mast, the ground swaying beneath them. They came to a skidding halt just as Aetos jumped onto the deck with surprising ease, at odds with his silvery hair and weathered face. Together, they pulled down what remained of the once mighty mainsail. Perseus asked, suppressing the panic from his voice as he addressed the captain: “Where are Kleos and Polydectes’s men?”

A worried shadow crossed Aetos’s face. He scanned the deck, his eyes darkening with dread. The old man bellowed, “Mikis, can you see the king’s sentinels or Kleos from up there?“

“No, Captain! They are nowhere on deck. With this storm, they are either overboard or still in the brig!”

Perseus’s stomach lurched. Why would Kleos have gone to the brig? He whirled around, but before he could sprint toward the stairs, Linus and his four men emerged from below deck, hauling a snarling Medusa between them. Perseus’s blood ran cold as he beheld men who had blatantly disobeyed his orders. They looked battered and bruised; Erastus’s cheek was marred with angry claw marks. It took all five of them to restrain Medusa as she thrashed, trying to break free.

Perseus’s eyes darted toward her twisted leg, which one of the men gripped tightly. Her wound had reopened, and blood seeped through the makeshift bandage.

Linus’s gaze met Perseus’s. “We have to kill her! Look around you, this is the gods punishing us!” He gestured overhead, the wind howling in agreement. “Only if we kill the beast will Poseidon spare us!”

Medusa’s body went rigid at the mention of the god’s name. She went utterly still, terror etched across her face.

Behind Perseus, a sailor shouted in agreement: “Throw her into the sea!”

Medusa renewed her struggles, twisting violently in the men’s iron grip. She lashed out with a kick, catching one of Linus’s men in the groin. He doubled over with a groan, releasing her leg. She swung it again, striking him in the head, and he collapsed onto the rain-slick deck. Other men rushed to subdue her, wrestling the thrashing creature back under control. They forced her down, and Medusa landed face-first on the hard, wet planks, her arms still pinned behind her back. Blood gushed from her nose.

Perseus’s jaw ticked as more men called for Medusa to be thrown to Poseidon, and an ever-growing crowd formed around her. A giant wave rolled over the galley’s side, careening into the crazed mob, struggling to hold the gorgon down. They were thrown to the side, the men growing more desperate for Medusa’s sacrifice with each smashing blow against their ship.

“That’s enough!” Perseus bellowed, his voice thundering through the night.

Yet, none of the sailors swept up in the madness heeded his words. The men had crossed a line. Medusa was his prisoner. The decision of whether she would live or die was his, and should he decide to kill her, it would be his responsibility to deliver a swift death. She did not deserve this. He would not tolerate her being torn apart by a violent mob.

Electricity crackled in his veins as Perseus shoved the men out of his way, flinging them to the ground, fighting to reach Medusa. He could not see her anymore, a barrier of bodies separating them, but he heard her struggle.

“Get off of me! Don’t touch me, no —”

Icy wrath propelled his movements as he threw a king’s sentinel so hard that his bronze armour clanged against the railing. Had Perseus unleashed just a little more of his immortal strength, the guard would have plunged into the churning sea below, the weight of his armour dragging him to a watery grave. Perseus needed to leash his power, but the tether of his control was fraying, Medusa’s muffled cries threatening to tear it entirely. She would not die today, not like this, not under his watch.

Erastus blocked Perseus’s path, a manic glint in his eyes as he cocked his fist. Perseus ducked, slamming his shoulder into the guard’s chest and driving him to the ground. Even as Perseus pinned him, Erastus cackled madly, “Look at you, fish boy, fighting to defend your little girlfriend. Finally found a bitch that doesn’t mind the stench of fish, have you?”

Before Perseus could reign in his wrath, his fist collided with Erastus’s nose, a sickening crunch making him wince. Blood streamed down the man’s face, and Perseus was about to strike again when Medusa’s voice cut through the roaring thunder.

“Please, no, don’t give me to him. Kill me if you must. I will not resist, but please don’t throw me into the sea!”

Perseus froze mid-punch, his fist still raised, as he saw Linus dangling Medusa’s thrashing body over the railing. The other sentinels stood close by, weapons drawn, but the sailors had fallen back, watching Perseus with wary eyes.

“Please,” Medusa begged again, the sound breaking something in Perseus’s chest.

The poison that usually laced her words was gone, replaced by the pleading of a terrified child as she begged Linus to kill her rather than throw her overboard.

Some men gawked in confusion at how she had stopped fighting as soon as she had been hoisted over the railing, but Linus’s face remained merciless. “Spare me your tears, witch! Drowning at sea would be a just way for you to die, wouldn’t it? Given how many bodies you have scattered at the bottom of the Aegean Sea.” Medusa shook her head violently, fear etched across her face, but Linus continued with a sneer. “And look how eagerly Poseidon awaits you; the water has already stilled below you. He’s waiting for you.”

Medusa shivered. Perseus rose to his feet, her sobs the only sound filling his ears as he drew his adamantine sword. His voice was lethally calm when he spoke, “If you know what’s good for you, Linus, you will let go of her, now!”

The epetae flanking Linus shifted their attention to Perseus, lifting their swords to him. He ignored them, striding forward, all his focus on Linus and Medusa.

“Aaaah,” Linus sighed, “if it isn’t our young hero. Are you honestly threatening me because of her ?”

“Let go of her.”

“You do have a soft spot for her, don’t you? What will you do, fish boy, if I drown your girlfriend?” Linus cocked his head in challenge.

Perseus gritted his teeth as he stalked closer, sword outstretched before him. He would kill Linus for this, gut him like a fish if he dared to drop Medusa. She was his prisoner. His to protect.

“Let go of her, now!” Perseus repeated, lightning flashing in his eyes.

For a few agonising moments, nobody moved, Perseus’s heart thundering in his chest. His every muscle was flexed, ready to lunge should Linus dare to disobey him. Medusa had stopped writhing, her body still, as she awaited her fate.

“As you wish, Captain ,” Linus finally grinned, letting go of Medusa as she fell with an agonising scream into the dark waves of the Aegean Sea.

Perseus lunged after her.