Page 37 of Crown of Serpents (Curse of Olympus #1)
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Medusa froze, her eyes wide with alarm at the sight of the two horses before them. Perseus nearly bumped into her as she stopped dead in her tracks. He had purchased the animals to expedite their journey to Athena’s temple to avoid the three-day trek slowing them down. Given the looming autumn equinox, he had thought it a good idea. Whatever they decided, they needed to be swift if Perseus wanted to save his mother from Polydectes’s clutches. Medusa seemed to disagree with his decision, mortification written across her face as she refused to approach her mount.
“What in Hades are those?” she scowled at Perseus through her veil.
Perseus couldn't help but chuckle. This woman, who had torn through warriors and faced down a sea serpent, was now seemingly intimidated by a pair of gentle-eyed mares.
“They’re called horses, Medusa. We, mortals, ride them or use them to pull chariots for faster travel. ”
Medusa’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I know what horses are, godling. But what made you think that I would ride a horse?” Her voice dropped, a hollow echo of its former strength, “They can’t stand me… not since my transformation.”
Indeed, the two mares seemed to be just as uneasy as Medusa. Their eyes widened with fear, and they whinnied, their hooves pawing at the ground, recognising the predator she was.
Medusa still had not moved, cautious not to scare the skittish animals. Perseus’s stomach dropped as he understood the wistful expression on her face. It was the same look she had when he had brought up Athena, the goddess Medusa had once served before she cursed her. Regret and grief seemed to consume her during those moments, making Perseus wonder about the life she had led before becoming the bane of the Aegean Sea. He did not like it when she looked like that.
“We can share one,” he offered gently. “I'll keep her calm. She won't bolt.”
His offer was sincere, but he couldn’t suppress a grin when he saw the sour look on her face.
He gripped the reins of the larger horse, gently stroking its muzzle to calm the nervous animal. Extending a hand toward Medusa, he raised an eyebrow in challenge. “I promise it won’t bite.”
Still, she didn’t budge, folding her arms. It was evident that the only thing Medusa wanted less than riding a horse was sharing a mount with Perseus.
“Either we ride, or we walk to Kameiros, but I would advise against that given our time constraints and your healing leg.”
She glanced down at that, mind obviously racing, cursing the injured leg that was still wobbly beneath her —and probably cursing him for pointing out her weakness. Hesitantly, Medusa stepped toward him. The mare next to Perseus fidgeted nervously, but he held the reigns tight, stroking the soft fur of its neck. She reluctantly took his hand, her touch cold against his skin, her gaze a silent threat. “The horse may not bite, but if you let me fall, you’ll find out that I do.”
He grinned at the thought of her canines sinking into his flesh. “Is that a promise or a threat? ”
To his surprise, a laugh bubbled from her lips, a sound so unexpected and melodious it left him momentarily breathless.
He helped her on the horse’s back, its whinnies of protest quieted by his soothing murmurs. Then he swung himself up behind her, engulfing her with his arms. He resisted the urge to lean closer, carefully maintaining distance between them as he spurred the mare. Still,the warmth of Medusa's body seeped through his tunic, and the intoxicating scent of poppies and sea salt clung filled his nose.
They rode past the golden fields, ripe for harvest, hooves thundering against the cracked earth. A forest of deep greens loomed in the distance as their mount carried them toward the island’s heart. The morning sun was still on the rise, the breeze fresh against Perseus’s skin as they galloped toward the temple of Athena, the song of the cicadas spurring them on.
Medusa was quiet as they crossed the farmland, the treeline of pine and cypress trees approaching fast. Still, Perseus noted with some satisfaction that she had relaxed in his arms, her body nestled against him as they rocked back and forth in the rhythm of the horse’s gallop.
Suddenly, a piercing cry tore through the morning’s tranquillity. Three shadowy figures swooped down from the sky, their leathery wings beating the air with ominous force. Despite the otherwordly glow of their yellow eyes and the razor-sharp teeth glinting in the sun, their faces were decidedly human. However, their female bodies were covered in grey feathers, and their broad wings carried them in the sky. The harpies chased Perseus and Medusa, their vulture-like talons outstretched, ready to snatch their prey.
Perseus spurred the horse into a frenzied gallop, holding on tight as they raced for the treeline. Medusa dug her fingers into the mare’s mane, her knuckles white.
One of the harpies let loose a battle cry, her voice shrill like the call of a hawk, diving toward them with outstretched claws. Perseus unsheathed his adamantine blade, ordering Medusa to duck as he deflected the attack. The creature shrieked in frustration as she avoided the gleaming blade. Her sister swooped down in a spiralling nosedive, raking her talons across the horse’s flank while Perseus held the first harpy at bay.
Blood spurted, leaving a crimson trail in their wake. With a panicked cry, the mare reared on its hind legs, forcing Perseus to drop the adamantine sword to grab the reins with both hands and stay seated. They had almost reached the treeline that would shield them from the onslaught of the winged beasts, but their only weapon now lay in the dust behind them.
A third harpy descended, a bird of prey swooping to snatch them up. Medusa’s eyes widened as she saw the creature soar toward them. She yelled, rotating in her seat so she faced him, “Close your eyes, Perseus!”
“What?” How was he supposed to ride the horse blind?
Medusa did not heed his protest, covering his eyes with her hand. “Trust me.”
She lifted her veil with a swift movement just as the harpy’s sharp talon pierced Perseus’s shoulder. For a few agonising heartbeats, he was airborne, caught in the unyielding grip of the demon woman. Then, he crashed to the ground as marble splintered around him. The broken remains of the petrified harpy lay scattered around him. Her sisters circled above, wailing in rage.
Perseus scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pounding in his head. They needed to reach the treeline. Medusa struggled to tame the horse, her face a sickly shade of green, as the wounded beast buckled and bent, running in circles, trying to shake her off.
Perseus leapt toward Medusa. “Jump, Medusa!”
Before Medusa could heed his words, the horse reared, rising to its hind legs and throwing her to the ground. Perseus raced to her side as the mare bolted, its lifeblood staining the golden fields. He wrapped his arm around Medusa, supporting her weight as they rushed for the sanctuary of the cypress trees.
Perseus glanced over his shoulder and saw the harpies tearing into the fleeing horse. Blood sprayed as one of the winged women lifted the animal, ripping out its throat with her razor-sharp teeth. The other harpy chased them, her yellow eyes glowing hungrily as she tucked her wings in, rushing toward her prey. Another few meters and they would reach the forest. They could make it if they were fast enough.
He hoisted Medusa onto his back, her injured leg a dead weight against him. She pursued them relentlessly, their cries a terrifying chorus. The winged shadow swooped down once more, and Medusa covered his eyes. He stumbled on blindly as the earth behind him shook with the impact of the petrified monster crashing to the ground.
Finally, they reached the treeline, the branches of the cypresses and pines shielding them from the remaining harpy’s sight. Although he was panting heavily, Perseus pushed deeper into the shadowy underbrush. Above the wailing cries of the winged woman haunted them, desperately searching for the prey she had lost sight of. When the beating of her mighty wings had grown distant, Perseus collapsed against a tree trunk, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Medusa sank beside him, her emerald hair tangled with leaves and twigs.
“What in Hades was that?”
Perseus shook his head, a chill seeping into his bones. “I don't know why they attacked us.”
It couldn’t have been random. Harpies didn’t act of their own accord. The winged women were known to be Zeus’s bloodhounds, sent to pursue and punish those who have offended the gods.
Medusa’s voice was grim, “It seems the Olympians have revoked their blessing for your mission, godling.”
Her words weighed heavily on Perseus. He refused to slay the monster , killing Poseidon’s pet instead. And now, he had lost the blade his father had given him.
Thunder rolled in the distance, and Perseus knew they had to act swiftly to avoid the gods’ wrath.