Medusa, A Love Story (Loves of Olympus 1)

Galenus said nothing. Elpis understood. What could he say? He was as stunned as she was, but he had no shadows to hide in.

“It is an honor to be chosen, by any God,” Stheno said. “And she will see the good in this marriage, if not in her husband. Which way to our sister’s chamber?”

“You’ll find it empty,” Galenus voice was soft.

Stheno and Euryale turned to regard him, waiting from their lofty height for some further explanation to his peculiar statement.

“Has she learned of her betrothal?” Stheno asked.

“In a manner of speaking…” Galenus sat in his chair. He was not threatened by the Gorgons he was so lost in thought. “She’s married. But not to Poseidon.”

Elpis did not stop to think. She ran from Galenus’ home, moving more swiftly than she thought possible. She knew her mistress needed her. And she would help Medusa…somehow. She had to stop twice, for fear her lungs would burst. She waited only long enough to catch her breath before running on.

As she flew up the temple’s steps she heard Poseidon speak, and her blood grew icy. “I will take the place of her husband. She will come with me. Until I tire of her, that is.”

Elpis knew her mistress would never willingly enter into such a bargain. Just as she knew the Gods would never take Medusa’s rejection lightly.

She was startled when Thea circled lower, clicking and calling. “What shall we do, Thea?”

Thea cooed, hovering briefly before she flew towards the coast. Elpis wondered about the wisdom of including Ariston, but knew she had no choice. Her mistress was in danger. She followed Thea, praying Ariston would know how to handle this dreadful situation.

###

The sun was rising

. Ariston could feel the warm whisper of its rays caressing his cheek as he woke. The gentle sway of the ship lulled him into a lingering doze.

Dreams of his lady wife were so real that he felt the silk of her skin beneath his fingers and the scent of her, clean and salty, filled his nostrils. Her image teased him, reaching for him while staying beyond his reach. He could not rise until he held her, once more. The pull of such dreams kept him sprawled upon the deck longer than his crew, but he could not bear to part with her again.

“Sir,” someone dared to wake him. “Ariston? They’re waiting for us.”

Medusa faded, running into the waves with a happy laugh and a flash of her blue eyes… And Ariston forced his eyes open, ignoring the sharp ache in his chest.

The sun was bright, too bright.

“When?” Ariston’s voice was brusque. He forced himself onto his feet, the rolling deck beneath his feet giving him no pause.

“They must have seen us coming.” His second, Pamphilos, stared over the water at the fleet on the horizon. “They’ve come to meet us.”

Ariston stretched, his night on the deck affording little comfort. He’d left his tent to sleep under the stars in the hopes that he’d find peace. Instead his dreams had taunted him, flooding him with longing.

He stooped, shaking out his well-worn cloak – his makeshift pillow – and pulled it around his shoulders.

A swarm of ships with black flags stretched as far as the eye could see. The horizon was thick with them, this loathsome enemy. Peace would not find him this day.

Welcome, Persians. At last he would meet these dreaded invaders. His blood pounded and the taste of the hunt flooded his mouth.

“We lead?” Ariston asked, glancing behind them. Athens’ triremes trailed their ship.

Pamphilos laughed.

Ariston nodded.

It was tradition. His men led for glory – they had little patience for Athens’ newly trained forces. Only the best and most skilled served on his ship. While his uncle’s maneuvering had provided Athens with their ships, Themistocles could not build troops to man them. Ariston could only pray those he’d trained would earn the name soldier. Hoplites and citizens alike, any man strong enough to lift an oar now rowed out to their destiny.

He regarded the ships with pride. Not all were as skilled as his Ekdromoi, but what these men lacked in skill they made up for in determination.

The swell of bloodlust, the rush of anticipation, would soon wash over Athens’ impatient fleet and bid them fight. It was known that the Persians’ cavalry and infantry were to be avoided at all costs. But these ships offered a chance at victory and true glory.