Page 44 of Crown of Serpents (Curse of Olympus #1)

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

It had been late afternoon when they had finally reached the small port where the Queen Cassiopeia docked. They had ridden hard, Athena’s mares carrying them swiftly, only stopping to rest for a few hours to sleep and water the horses. Perseus had asked Medusa to stay hidden while he sought out Kleos, informing him about their plan. That was several hours ago.

By now, the moon had risen, illuminating the harbour in a silvery glow, as they snuck back onto the Queen Cassiopeia, feet silent against the wooden gangway. If his Kleos had kept his word, the crew would now be awaiting them on deck — all except Linus and his three remaining epetae. Kleos had assured him they would be occupied in a local brothel, spending the money he had unfortunately lost to them in a game just this evening.

Perseus took a deep breath, straightening his back, before stepping onto the galley’s deck. Medusa stuck close to his side, her sharp nails glinting in the moonlight as she assessed the gathered men. They had agreed that he would address the crew with his request, but Perseus was glad she had accompanied him. Her presence calmed his nerves as the crew looked at him expectantly. They greeted them, Kleos grinning at him, Aetos clasping his shoulder as welcome, and Andromeda flinging her arms around Medusa’s neck, but the men’s eyes remained wary. Perseus was unsure how much Kleos had revealed about why they had gathered.

“Good evening, men! I trust you have enjoyed your stay on Rhodos?” Perseus spoke, his voice unwavering despite the flutter in his chest.

The men cheered, some raising a mug they had brought from whichever bar Kleos had dragged them from.

“I’m glad you are well rested, for I have another quest for you. This one won’t be in the name of a king or queen. Polydectes did not decree it, so I will not order you to follow me. Instead, after having sailed through the storms of the Aegean Sea, after besting Cetus together, I ask you to sail with me once more.”

The crew had fallen silent, the weight of their stare almost unbearable.

“We have set sail on this dangerous mission to find and hunt Medusa because I could not pay the tithe King Polydectes demanded. I know I am not alone with this.”

He glanced toward Orestes, who nodded silently, his expression grim.

“I led a simple life on Seriphos, working as a fisherman to make a living, struggling every year to come up with the large sum our ruler demanded. Yet, every year, I paid the tithe in full. However, this year, my mother and I got robbed just weeks before the tithe was due. We did everything we could to come up with the sixty drachmae before the tithe, starving, working day and night, but it wasn’t enough. Polydectes did not care. He demanded that my mother become his mistress as compensation for our debt — or that I slay the legendary creature Medusa and bring him her head.”

His gaze flickered toward Medusa, who stood proud next to him, though the twitch of her mouth gave away her disgust. He resented this part of their story too, ashamed of what he had almost done to her — even to save Danae.

“As you might have guessed, I refuse to obey Polydectes’s command. I will not kill Medusa, the brave woman who has saved our lives in Joppa.”

None of the men uttered a word of protest, each hanging on Perseus’s lips as he spoke. It was an odd — yet thrilling — sensation to command their attention.

“It would not be just to kill Medusa, just to settle my debt to a greedy king.” A crooked grin painted his lips as he glanced at Medusa. “Plus, I’m not sure if I could even take her on — even if I wanted to.”

Medusa returned his smile, and a few sailors chuckled.

Perseus shook his head, his voice serious once more. “Killing Medusa will not solve the problem, neither for me nor any of us. King Polydectes has exploited the honest citizens of Seriphos for too long. Each year, he demands a horrendous amount from us … and for what? To hire expensive architects for his pride projects, throw lavish feasts for his friends, and pay for a standing army thrice the size he will ever need to defend Seriphos from invaders. These are not the deeds of a king but a tyrant. So, I ask you, as the brave men that I have gotten to know these past weeks, to come with me and free Seriphos, our home, from Polydectes’s tyranny.”

Perseus words echoed across the deck, the breeze carrying them out into the harbour. His hands shook slightly, but his eyes were brimming with determination as he waited for the crew’s response. The silence stretched between them, the atmosphere charged with electric tension.

Finally, Orestes spoke, narrowing his rich brown eyes, “What you ask of us is treason.”

Some of the sailors muttered in agreement. A low, threatening hiss sounded from Medusa’s throat, but Perseus did not contradict the old man’s assessment. He was fully aware of what he was asking of this crew. He was asking them to risk their lives invading the heavily guarded palace of Seriphos and murdering Polydectes.

He gently nudged Medusa’s arm, reassuring her, before admitting, “Yes. I ask you to betray the current ruler but for the sake of our people. We cannot continue to bow to a king who exploits us for his own gain.”

The men grumbled their agreement, too many of them having struggled to pay their tithe.

Yet, Atticus asked in an accusatory tone, thick brows converging atop his crooked nose in a frown, “So, you intend to usurp the throne? What makes you a better king?”

“I do not want to claim the throne for myself,” Perseus responded truthfully, bearing the weight of the old man’s stare.

Medusa’s head whirled toward him, her eyes full of confusion. Athena had made him vow to claim the throne in Zeus’s name. But Perseus had chosen his words carefully as he had kneeled before the goddess. I solemnly swear to defeat Polydectes and free Seriphos from its tyrannical rule in exchange for Medusa’s life.

It would not be right, he told himself.

However, deep down, Perseus knew that what really kept him from claiming the throne of Seriphos was his deep-rooted fear of whom — or what — he might become. What would he do with such power? The same dread spread through his body whenever he lost control of the lightning crackling in his blood in moments of fury.

He kept his back straight, withstanding the questioning gazes of his crew. “There is another man with the right to the throne. Polydectes seized power from his older brother, Dictys, when he was weakened by grief after losing both his wife and unborn child. It was Dictys who had inherited the crown from his father. He is a benevolent and generous man. He took me in and raised me as his own when my mother and I stranded on the shore of Seriphos. Not only is he the rightful king, but he would also be a fair one.”

Atticus did not look convinced, but Aetos grumbled in agreement. Some others nodded hesitantly. It was not enough. He needed their full support and loyalty for the dangerous mission ahead. Perseus’s palms grew slick with sweat.

“If you put your trust in me,” Perseus continued, his voice gaining strength with each word, “I will see that our home is freed from Polydectes’s tyrannical rule. We will build a kingdom where the ruler nourishes the well-being of his citizens rather than exploiting the hard-working people of Seriphos. But to do this, I need all of you. We have to work together.” He let his gaze pass over them, looking directly into their eyes. “Now, who is with me?”

Perseus’s heart thundered in his chest. It was all or nothing now. Either he had convinced this crew to join his cause — to save his mother and home simultaneously — or he had just outed himself as a traitor, conspiring to usurp the throne. An offence punishable by death.

Kleos stepped forward instantly, his broad hand over his heart. “You have my support.”

Perseus looked at the remaining men, anxiety making his blood sizzle. Then, Orestes stepped forward, his wrinkled face shining with pride as he mimicked Kleos’s gesture. “I have given my life to protecting Seriphos from any threats and shall continue to do so. This includes the threat posed to our people by our ruler.”

“I’m with you too,” Elias stepped forward, his usually sunny face solemn.

He had barely finished when Meliton followed suit, “If Elias fights with you, then so will I. I have fought every battle at his side, and I’ll fight with him until our last!”

Meliton intertwined their fingers, his dark skin a stark contrast against Elias’s freckled hand. The gesture was a silent promise. They would live, fight, and die together — always holding each other.

Silence gripped the ship. Four men had stepped forward, their backs exposed to the crew. None of them moved.

Was that it, then? Had the rest of them chosen loyalty to Polydectes over allegiance to Perseus?

Then Aetos’s gruff voice broke the silence, “I shall sail with you too, Captain .”

The title lingered between them as the old man inclined his silvery head slightly.

Perseus gulped. Then, one by one, the other sailors moved forward, their trust in Perseus visible in their determined expressions .

Finally, even Atticus begrudgingly pledged his loyalty, even though his gaze did not meet Perseus’s eyes but remained trained on Aetos. It was Aetos, whom the first mate would follow, but as long as Aetos was loyal to Perseus, it made little difference.

Perseus beamed at Medusa, who returned a confident grin.

A cold, mocking voice cut through the air, “Well, well, well … what do we have here? A bunch of traitors pledging their loyalty to a fisherman who dreams of stealing the throne. All because he had to stick his little cock where it doesn’t belong and now refuses to repay his debt to our king with the head of that ugly beast.” Linus gestured toward Medusa, and Perseus instinctively stepped in front of her.

Bronze gleamed upon Linus's torso, a polished broadsword held loosely yet menacingly in his grip. His beedy eyes promised violence, as he peered down at them from the top of the gangway.

The three remaining sentinels flanked Linus, each glaring at the crew that had gathered without them. Behind them stood a group of armed thugs, their crude weaponry and coarse attire a stark contrast to the guards’ shining armour.

Erastus sneered, gesturing toward their companions: “As you can see, we made some friends in town. It turns out allies are easily found when there's a hefty bounty on the gorgon's head ... and that was before we even mentioned that the crown princess of Joppa dwells on this ship. How much do you reckon your uncle Phineas will pay for you, Andromeda?”

Erastus’s gaze raked over the young woman’s body.

Perseus’s head whipped toward Kleos and Andromeda. A low, menacing growl rumbled in Kleos’s throat as he positioned his massive frame between the intruders and the princess. Kleos balled his fists before him. They would have to go over his dead body if they wanted to abduct her.

He agreed with his friend. No one would take Medusa from him as long as he was breathing. His hand flew to his belt, seeking the reassuring weight of his adamantine sword. His stomach dropped as he remembered losing the blade while fleeing from the harpies. A swift glance at the others confirmed his fears — their faces etched with terror, hands devoid of weapons. Only Orestes pulled a small dagger that he had stashed in his boot. Of course, none of his crew had armed themselves tonight, fresh from a night of revelry in the taverns.

Perseus's eyes scanned the opposition, silently tallying the number of “friends” Linus had amassed. Sixteen.

“Looks like you’re badly outnumbered, fish boy ,” Linus taunted, his black beard splitting in a self-satisfied grin. Then, his voice rose as he addressed the crew. “Listen well, men. Although you have pledged yourselves to Perseus, you have not committed treason … yet . So, I offer you a chance — a second chance — courtesy of our merciful King Polydectes. We will seize the gorgon and the princess, with or without your interference.” His malicious gaze flickered toward Medusa. Her body was tense, ready to lunge, and she hissed at him in response. “We will spare anyone that surrenders. However, should you try and stop us, you will die. Now, who wants to reconsider their oath?”

Linus’s gaze swept over each man, a silent challenge daring them to abandon their newfound loyalty.

Perseus’ blood pounded in his ears, dreading that they might abandon him. Not that he could not understand should they choose to switch sides. He would not blame them for wanting to live. Yet, none of them moved; even Atticus stayed glued to Aetos’s side. Mikis looked down uncomfortably, lanky arms fidgeting, but his feet remained firmly planted.

“Shame,” Linus clucked his tongue. “Seize them,” he commanded, his voice sharp and cold.

With a battle cry that echoed across the moonlit water, the king's epetae surged onto the deck, a wave of polished bronze and glinting steel. Behind them, the hired thugs brandished their crude weapons. Their faces contorted in savage anticipation.

Perseus took a fighting stance, balling his fists as he braced himself. They were surrounded, outnumbered, and outmatched. The air thrummed with impending violence, the only sound louder than Perseus's racing pulse.

Erastus lunged, his sword whistling through the air, a vicious grin on his lips. Perseus prepared to dodge the attack, but before he could move, a blur of darkness slammed into him, sending him sprawling. As he hit the deck, his eyes widened in disbelief at the scene unfolding before him. Where Erastus had stood, now stood a statue frozen in mid-attack, the terror etched on its stone face mirroring the horror Perseus felt moments ago.

Medusa.

She was no longer the woman whose laughter had warmed his chest. The green fire in her eyes blazed with a terrifying intensity, a raging inferno threatening to consume everything in its path. This woman, tearing through the onslaught of men like they were made of straw, was the embodiment of death. There was something wild in Medusa’s eyes as she ripped a man’s heart out of his chest, blood splattering on the deck. The wreath of snakes hissed hungrily, demanding more each time their mistress cut through another opponent. This was the creature whose violent attacks had terrorised the coastline of the Aegean Sea, her name only mentioned in hushed tones. This was the legendary gorgon, unleashed in all her terrible glory.

Perseus bellowed over the noise of dying men, “Look down and get out of her way!”

But even as he shouted, his eyes remained fixed on her, unable to avert his gaze. She was brutal. She was merciless. She was magnificent. Perseus drank in every detail of her, his eyes following her graceful yet lethal movements. Despite the rage fuelling her attack, her strikes remained precise. Medusa was even more beautiful, with serpents writhing on her head and a wicked smile on her face, than when he had first laid eyes on her, sleeping in that cave.

Medusa drove the assailants back, away from the unarmed group and toward the helm. Some thugs had given up on the offensive, scrambling away from her in a panic. They ran for the gangway, but the gorgon was faster, slitting their throats before they could reach solid land. Others jumped over the railing and into the icy waves. Two of them made it out alive. Medusa cut through the rest, felling man after man, avoiding the panicked swings of their hatchets and swords with ease.

All the while, her eyes remained fixed upon Linus, who cowered at the ship’s helm, barricaded behind the last two sentinels. The triumphant smile had been wiped off his face, his complexion suddenly pallid, as he watched Medusa work her way toward him. Her path was paved in crimson, and the vicious smile on the gorgon’s face promised a slow, agonising demise. The final hired thug crumpled to the deck; his life extinguished in a single, sickening thud.

She paused for only a moment, the fury still burning hot in her eyes. “I have waited a long time for this, Linus.”

Linus’s eyes were wide with fear as he pushed his men toward Medusa. “Get her.”

The two epetae approached hesitantly, swords before them and gaze averted. They knew their captain had just ordered them to die.

“Coward,” Medusa hissed as she lunged, ducking beneath the blade of the first sentinel and disarming him with a swift movement.

He made the mistake of looking at her, petrified in a heartbeat. The second man stumbled backwards, but Medusa caught him. She slit his throat with the first guard’s weapon, granting him the mercy of a swift death.

Slowly, Medusa turned her fury on Linus, the man who had dared to throw her into the raging sea. He did not seem so brave now. Perseus held his breath as she stalked toward the cowering man. Then, in a flash of desperation, Linus made his move. Instead of racing for Medusa, he flung himself over the railing. Medusa let out a frustrated snarl, flinging her weapon after him. She hit her mark, the blade burying itself in Linus’s side as he tumbled over the edge. A splash echoed through the sudden silence, the dark water swallowing him whole.

For a moment, Medusa hesitated, her eyes frantically searching the dark surface. Her anger melted into frustration and bitterness as she hesitated to jump into the icy waters. The water was relatively shallow, but still, she recoiled from the open sea.

A gut-wrenching wail escaped her throat. Perseus surged toward her, sharing her disappointment. Should he dive in after Linus and finish what Medusa had started?

Medusa looked behind her, her eyes widening in horror as she took in the bodies scattered on deck. Her knees began to wobble as she glanced down at herself, her hands covered in blood that was not her own. Medusa sank to her knees, her shoulders slumping. In the distance, Perseus could see Linus swimming away from them, his long strokes cutting through the water. He glanced at Medusa, her emerald hair sticky with blood, arms wrapped around herself. A sob tore from her throat, a sound so raw and broken that it shattered Perseus's heart. He sank to his knees beside her, a crimson puddle of blood slowly approaching them.

He reached out, a tentative touch meant to offer solace. But she recoiled as if burned, scrambling to her feet. Tears streamed down her face, washing clean streaks on her blood-splattered skin. “Stay away from me!” she choked out, her voice thick with anguish.

Then, Medusa ran, her gaze lowered and her hair flying behind her. The crew parted as she rushed past them, slamming the cabin door behind and letting out a gut-wrenching wail.

Perseus turned back to the sea, but Linus was gone. Had the blade been enough to take him out?