Cursed by the Sea God (4 page)

Keeping my belly to the ground, I crept past the soldiers to where the Greeks
lay on the floor. The tiny corner of my mind that wasn’t overwhelmed by fear
wondered why the soldiers weren’t coming after us, but I had no time to think
about that now. Pulling Melantha’s knife from inside my tunic, I sawed through
the cords around Deklah’s wrist and neck. Freed, he snatched the knife from me
and cut Ury and Yason
loose with a few quick slashes, tucking the
knife away inside his own tunic.

As Ury began to scramble to his feet, his gaze darting around the room, I
realized something.

“Don’t move!” I whispered, grabbing his arm. “Look! They don’t even see
us!”

At that moment a clutch of workers poured through a nearby doorway and scuttled
across us toward the queen, still squalling on the ground. Two of them stumbled
over us on the floor but hardly slowed down.

Ury just stared at me, wild-eyed, but Deklah came to my aid. “You know, Ury,
he’s right! For some reason they aren’t seeing us. Follow me and keep your head
down. And don’t attract attention!” He began to thread his way through the
milling workers, crouching low. Ury hesitated, but I knew where my best chance
lay. Springing to my feet, I ducked and followed Deklah toward the doorway,
weaving through the crowded room.

I crept through the dim passageways behind Deklah, Ury and Yason now a few
paces behind. Around us, workers and warriors were scurrying back and forth,
chittering to one another. The hallways didn’t look familiar, but I wasn’t about
to question Deklah’s lead.

There was a soft grunt behind us and I turned to look. Yason, looking backward,
had run straight into one of the black-carapaced palace soldiers emerging from a
side room. One arm shot out and grabbed Yason by the shoulder. Ahead
of us, Deklah turned, gesturing at him to stay still. Frowning
slightly, the soldier stood facing him, cocking his head first to one side, then
the other, staring with that strange, sightless gaze at what he had caught. As
we watched, he drew Yason slowly to him and bent his head to sniff Yason’s
cheek.

Yason tensed nervously, ready to bolt. Deklah shook his head and gestured for
him to stay still, but it was too late. As the soldier reached out for Yason’s
cheek with his free hand, Yason gave a frightened moan. Twisting out of the
soldier’s grip, he bolted up the passage toward us. The soldier spun, crossed
scimitars emerging from their sheaths.

“Run!” Deklah shouted. We took off, the soldier pounding heavily behind us,
scimitars waving in his hands. Close behind Deklah, I could hear Ury coming up
behind me, and I risked a quick glance back. The soldier had nearly caught up to
Yason. Clumsy with terror, Yason stumbled. Like a pouncing spider, the soldier
was on him. With a single slash, he hacked a gaping slice from the back of
Yason’s calf. Yason screamed and fell to the ground, clutching his leg. In a
swift, precise motion, the soldier swung both scimitars inwards like a giant
pair of shears. They closed on either side of Yason’s neck and snipped off his
head.

Blood spurted in two jets from either side of the severed neck to spray the
walls and floor as the head tumbled toward me. The sight left me frozen. The
twin sprays of blood already dying to a trickle, the whitish stub of bone from
the centre of the neck, and, worst of all, Yason’s head, its unblinking white
eyes staring from a shadowed corner, had pinned me where I was,
horrified.

“Forget him!” I heard Ury shouting angrily. “Get going!” I turned, but he
wasn’t speaking to me. He was tugging at Deklah, his other hand gesturing at me.
Yason was already forgotten.

With an angry glance at him, Deklah shook Ury’s hand off and grabbed my
shoulder. “Just run—they’ve noticed us!”

For a moment, I paused. Three more soldiers had emerged from a doorway,
chittering with the one who had beheaded Yason, and began lumbering up the
passage after us. We began running, and as we rounded the corner I glanced back
for a moment. Workers with baskets and knives were already clustering around
Yason’s body.

Directly ahead were the double doors we had come in through, standing ajar.
Putting on a burst of speed, we dashed through them into the open air of a
cloudy mid-afternoon. Behind us, soldiers spilled out of the doorway into the
square.

“Split up!” gasped Deklah, breathing hard. “Head for the ship! Warn
them!”

Good idea. If those armoured soldiers caught one of us, there was nothing the
rest of us could do anyway. I darted off the road and into the trees. If I could
just keep my bearings, this route would be more direct, and I’d be harder to
follow.

The underbrush was thicker than I’d expected. After working my way through it
for a little while I paused to listen for pursuit. I could hear crashing behind
me but it was a long
way off, and I leaned against a tree trunk
to catch my breath, waving away a cloud of sweat bugs.

Shortly after, I emerged from the forest near the top of a small ridge.
Cresting it, I could see the scrub-strewn plain that we had crossed earlier, and
beyond it, the cliff. The sounds behind me had died off. As I reached the cliff
edge and turned to climb down the rope, a movement in the distance caught my
eye. Coming over the ridge were Ury and Deklah. The shortcut I had taken through
the woods hadn’t been much faster after all, but it looked like they’d made it
safely.

I looked again. Behind them, a black wave of soldiers was flowing up and onto
the plateau, scimitars waving. Panicked, I half-fell down the rock face, giving
my hands a painful burn on the rope. Seeing my haste, Lopex came back to the
stern deck where I’d landed. “What is it, boy?” he barked.

“Yason’s dead. Deklah and Ury—they’re being chased by soldiers. They’re almost
at the cliff,” I panted. This was not the time to stay silent, even if he had
ordered me to.

He was instantly in command. “Lykos! Lykourgos!” he called to two brothers who
sat across from one another. “Grab your sword and shield and get up that cliff.
Ury and Deklah need your help.” The two men snatched up their weapons from below
their bench and went to scramble up the rope. They were only halfway up when
Ury’s wild-eyed face appeared at the top. “Get out of the way!” he shouted,
waving them back as he started down himself. The two soldiers reversed course as
Deklah appeared at the edge. I watched the rope strain under the weight of four
heavy men.

Lopex saw the same thing. “Cut the bow rope!” he shouted to
Procoros, pulling out his knife to do the same at the stern. “If they fall,
better it be into the sea! Rowers to your benches; starboard side, unlace oars
to push off!”

He was too late. As Lykos and Lykourgos jumped down the last few feet to the
deck, I heard a snap from above and a wild cry. Arms flailing, Ury tumbled at
least ten arm-lengths to land with a hollow thud on his back on the wooden deck.
Broken rope still in his hands, Deklah dropped from the sky an instant later to
land stomach-first on top of him.

I peered at them both as they lay motionless. A trickle of blood came from the
side of Ury’s mouth. Was he dead?

“Boy!” barked Lopex, unlacing an oar to push us off. “Look after them!” I
rolled Deklah onto his back on the deck. Perhaps Ury would die before I got to
him.

Had the soldiers reached the cliff top? I glanced up and gasped in shock. “Look
out!” I yelled. “The cliff!”

Tumbling down the rock face at us were a dozen large boulders. Along the cliff,
dark heads peered over the edge like beetles. “Row! Row!” Phidios shouted. The
first boulders struck as the ship began to move. Three of them crashed into oars
on the cliff side, snapping their handles out of their rowers’ grip and
momentarily fouling the others. Several others smashed down into the ship
itself, lancing between the rowing benches into the hold, loudly smashing some
clay
pithoi
. Another caught a forward rower on the arm. I noticed that,
even with his arm broken, he had the sense to high-ship his oar to keep it
clear, but the last boulder ploughed directly
into the shoulder
of Praxy, the silent port steersman, tearing his arm off and ripping him open
from shoulder to waist. He slumped against his steering oar, instantly
dead.

“Keep rowing, men!” roared Lopex from the bow. “They can’t reach us once we’re
away from the cliffs!” He glanced upward. The cliff was still clustered with
soldiers, but there were no more boulders coming down—yet.

The fouled oars had been cleared by their neighbouring oarsmen, and the
Pelagios
was pulling away from the cliff, about to cross the mouth of
the inlet. The inlet! I’d forgotten about the other ships. Lopex was already in
the bow, roaring at them. “Ships of Ithaca! Beware the cliff tops! Cut your
anchor ropes and row out now!” No one hearing that voice could doubt its
urgency, and the men of the other ships sprang to comply. They were packed so
tightly that they jostled with one another to extricate themselves from the
inlet.

“Sweet gods,” one of the rowers muttered. “Look at the cliffs.”

Around the entire inlet, the cliff tops had come alive with black, swarming
figures. I bit my lip. Even Greeks deserved better than this. “Dear gods, get
out, get out,” the man near me was muttering, his knuckles white on his
oar.

The nearest ship had managed to disentangle itself from the others by pushing
off with its oars, and was now rowing furiously into the mouth of the inlet. I
could see the captain, a youngish man with a light beard, holding the steering
oar himself and scanning the cliffs to either side. Suddenly he froze, staring
up. A mammoth red boulder bounced out from
the cliff, crushing
him instantly and tearing the entire stern from his ship.

Already low in the water, the ship sank quickly. Dozens of smaller boulders
were smashing down in a deadly rain, destroying oars, crushing rowers on the
ship and in the water alike.

“Sweet Hera,” the man near me breathed. “It’s blocked. May almighty Zeus
protect them now.” For a moment I didn’t understand. Blocked? Then I saw. The
mouth of the inlet was shallow, and the ship had come to rest on the bottom with
its curved stern still visible above the surface. With that ship blocking the
mouth, the others were trapped. A chill ran through me.

Lopex had spotted the same thing. “Swim for it!” he yelled. “Hold your breath
and paddle with your arms. Dogs can do it, so can you!” Watching them
floundering in the water, I realized with a shock that most of them didn’t know
how.

From deeper in the inlet came terrified shrieks and cries of pain. I wrenched
my gaze up. Boulders of all sizes were hurtling down the cliff sides, bouncing
off projections as they tumbled to spring out and strike anywhere in the inlet.
With the ships packed so tightly, more boulders than not were striking ships, or
Greeks.

“Get out of there!” shouted Lopex over the din. “Phidios, bring us in toward
the mouth! Archers, up front! Fire at the cliff tops!” The ship began to move
toward the inlet to bring the archers into range, but it was no use. The cliffs
were too
high, and long before we were in range, boulders began
raining down on us again. It would take only one good strike to hole the
Pelagios
and sink us, and Lopex knew it. Angrily, he had Phidios back
us off again.

He wasn’t the sort to give up. I watched him carefully scanning the rock face
on either side of the entrance, looking for a way up. I’d spent enough time with
the Greeks by now to understand a little about tactics, and it was clear that
the one way to save the men in the inlet would be a direct attack on the
soldiers at the top. But the only climbable section of cliff was where we had
moored originally, and the edge there still bristled with black figures.

In the inlet beyond the sunken ship, the pounding rain of boulders was
battering the other ships to pieces. The water was crowded with the bodies of
dead and dying men and the flotsam that had bobbed up from the holds. I watched
in horror. Was there nothing we could do? Lopex had already deployed the
boarding nets but none of the men in the water could get near us.

My eye fell on the jumble of ox-hide rope that had dropped back to the ship
when it snapped, and a desperate idea came to me. Sweeping the bundle into my
arms, I bench-hopped forward from the stern, pausing to ask Pharos to come with
me from his seat amidships. He nodded silently as I explained, and bent to tie
one end of the rope to a spare oar. I coiled the rope as I’d seen the sailors do
and tied the other end off to the bow railing.

“Boy! What are you doing?” Lopex grabbed my shoulder. I turned
nervously and explained.

He frowned. “Why did you not ask permission?”

I hesitated. “Well you said you didn’t want to hear from me anymore.”

He nodded slowly. “So I did.” He wheeled on Pharos. “What are you standing
about for? Do it!” Pharos hefted the oar like a harpoon, now anchored to the bow
rail by a long rope. His aim wasn’t good, but he could throw it twice as far as
any man in the fleet. With a mighty one-armed heave he sent the oar arcing into
the inlet to land well inside, the rope uncoiling from the deck as it flew. It
speared the water like a diving seabird before bobbing back to the
surface.

“Grab the rope!” shouted Lopex. “We’ll pull you out!” I doubted anyone in the
inlet could hear him over the mayhem, but words weren’t needed. Already, several
men were floundering toward it. A few who could swim were pulling companions
along with them while others, clinging to drifting pieces of wood, were kicking
their slow way past the sunken ship to safety.