Clash of the Titans (22 page)

Now the wolf started forward. It was still chained, but they couldn't be sure of the chain's exact length, and a wrong estimate could be fatal.

Perseus tried to move to his left. The wolf cut him off. Both men found themselves being backed steadily up a spiral stone staircase.

"Menas, crawl away now, while it's intent on us!" Solon shouted, dividing his attention between the stalking wolf and his friend below.

"Save your wind, Solon." Perseus swung the sword in a broad arc. The wolf flinched, growling from two throats. "His neck's broken and likely his back too. I heard him hit"

Suddenly it seemed that both heads were momentarily focused on his companion. There was no more time for words, or for thought. He might not get another opening.

He sprang forward, staying low and leading with the sword. It cut completely through the monster's flank.

It let out a horrible yelp and fell backward, taking the sword and Perseus with it. Together they tumbled over the side of the staircase. Perseus fell on something warm and soft. The creature had landed beneath him. Hurriedly he climbed clear and pulled the sword free.

"You've killed it, sir!" Solon was hurrying down the stairs to rejoin him.

But the wolf was far from dead. It had two heads. Now it seemed it might also have two lives. Rolling quickly to its feet, it started backing Perseus toward the near wall.

For the first time, Perseus felt real fear. I ran it clear through and it's not even swaying! he thought in panic. Can it be an immortal thing, immune to a sword stroke?

The wall was very close. Soon he would have nowhere to run and one of those two slavering heads would nip in while he was busy fending off its mate.

He thought furiously, swearing steadily and silently. If I can't kill the thing, at least maybe I can reduce the odds.

He took another step back, then ducked aside instead of backing as jaws snapped like a hunting trap just above his left shoulder. Saliva spattered his face as he rushed forward.

The sword swing was half wild, but the half that remained true cut cleanly. One of the two heads spun free of its neck. Blood spouted from the severed stump and the remaining head howled in pain.

It snapped at the sword when Perseus tried to repeat the maneuver and continued backing him. Perseus tried to slip aside, but there was another wall there. He'd reduced the odds—but at the price of finding himself trapped in a corner.

He tried to stay on the left side of the monster, the side now devoid of danger, while aiming one swing after another at the remaining head. But the monster had learned. It was wary of the sword and took care to avoid every cut Perseus took.

If it trapped him against the wall, Perseus knew it would rush in and overpower him with sheer strength.

Again he ducked, this time feinting at the head with the sword and driving those teeth back. Instead of bringing the sword back for another swing, he changed its arc to a thrust and aimed for the chest, hoping desperately that the monster had a heart. Its blood was red enough.

And it was not immortal. The sword struck true and straight and the monster shivered convulsively. It rose on its heels, towering over Perseus for a moment, before falling backward. This time he didn't withdraw the sword.

It lay on the floor twitching and kicking for several moments. Then it was still.

When he was certain it was dead, Perseus removed the sword and cleaned it on the fur of the carcass. His breath was unsteady and his hands shook a little.

Solon was helping the wounded Castor bind up the vicious slash in his arm, using a strip of material torn from his own cloak.

"A fight for the bards long to sing about," Castor was commenting as Perseus approached. He winced as Solon tightened the bandage. "A fine help I was in it, too."

"You could not have done more," Perseus reassured him. "None of us reacted in time to the beast's first attack. As for songs, no one will sing of us until we are safely out of this place." He indicated the bloody bandage.

"How bad?"

Castor gritted his teeth as he moved the arm. "Ugly, but I've had worse."

"Can you still use it?"

The soldier nodded. "I think so, if I'm careful with it. That thing only opened the forearm. I can still swing. And I've another arm."

"What of Menas?"

"As you thought," Solon told him. "Dead. It's as well that the monster broke his neck. He could not have survived his wounds. The thing had been eating on him before it threw him away."

Perseus turned to gaze into the depths of the temple. "Then it's three to one now." He helped Castor to his feet and they resumed their inspection of the interior.

A half hour of searching revealed nothing save a great quantity of statuary and a maze of empty corridors that invariably dead-ended against the inner temple walls. Nothing else materialized out of the darkness to challenge them. Only the still-bleeding corpse of the wolf-monster remained as a token of the dangers of this place.

"There's nothing here, unless it's too well concealed for our eyes to find," Perseus finally decided. "We've checked the upper balcony and the level we entered on."

"Perhaps there's another below," suggested Solon. "There are so many columns and passages we might easily have overlooked the entrance in this poor light."

"Possible," Castor agreed, still favoring his bandaged arm.

So they resumed the hunt, their attention now directed downward. It was Perseus who eventually found the hoped-for staircase leading into the depths.

"A good guess, Solon," he told his companion.

Castor eyed the hole doubtfully. "Hades lies that way. Remember where we are."

Somehow Solon managed a smile. "Then we'll have to take care not to descend too many steps."

They started down.

Castor's worries were soon alleviated. The staircase ended in an underground grotto forested with marble columns. Whether it comprised the cellar of the temple above or the long-forgotten hallways of a still earlier sanctuary none could say.

One thing was instantly apparent, however. The place was occupied—dozens of torches illuminated the subterranean chamber. Something living required light here.

Whose lair they had entered was also obvious. Everywhere they found the petrified bodies of animals and men. Not even Solon could doubt any longer that it was no sculptor who had fashioned these forms. They were far too detailed, too lifelike for even a master carver to have wrested from bare rock.

Their presence was disconcerting enough, but the variety of contorted expressions on those frozen faces was more horrible still.

A vile sense of humor had been at work among them. One figure would hold out a flickering torch in a frozen hand, while another would brace a damaged column with stone shoulders. They threw distorted shadows on the damp walls. Even Perseus could not keep from throwing an occasional nervous glance over a shoulder to see if the figure just passed might not have moved a trifle.

He kept his shield high and his senses alert. The most difficult thing would be to avoid looking for the source of any sudden sound, especially after the near fatal encounter with the wolf-thing. They would have to battle their natural inclination to use their eyes, and fight with only their ears for guidance.

The grotto narrowed, then opened into a spacious chamber. It ended in an ancient altar backed by mosaic work and a stairway leading upward. A sickly pool of water curved before the altar, the stains bordering the water hinting at unknown rituals and uses.

They started for the stairs, then quickly halted. The faint whisper and crackle of the torches was replaced by a thick, sibilant hiss.

"It comes," Perseus murmured. "Shields."

The three men raised their shields over their eyes, huddling together for protection against whatever was approaching.

The hissing was directly ahead of them and close by.

"Back away," Perseus ordered his companions, "and don't look. Find a column to hide behind."

They kept their shields before them, fighting down the maddening impulse to look at whatever was near. Each took a turn looking backward to check their path, seeking several columns close together.

Perseus slipped behind one of red marble, now faded and chipped. He hesitated as long as he dared. The hissing was loud in his ears. Then he stepped out from behind the column, his shield held high and his back to the threatening sound.

Despite the horror revealed in the highly polished surface, he managed not to drop the shield.

At the head of the stairway was an enormous snake, cousin in form and body to the great constrictor they'd encountered outside the temple. It was an ichorous green and as thick around as a cedar.

At one end it changed into a scaly sort of degenerated flesh. A human waist began there, a mockery of the beautiful skin that had once been. It varied in places—some smooth, some rough and scaled.

The upper torso was clad in a brief wrap of opaque cloth and showed the silhouette of a woman. Instead of hair, the head was a knot of writhing, tailess snakes. Perseus had expected that, from the tales he'd heard. What he did not anticipate was the sheer demonic energy in that face.

The teeth were not squared off, but pointed, like the canines of the wolf. Reptilian scales covered the entire face. The eyes—he struggled not to turn and look directly at them—the eyes were a violent emerald green, shockingly bright and piercing. If any humanity had once looked out from them, it had long since vanished.

In her hands Medusa held a heavy war bow. A quiver of hunting arrows were strapped to the leathery back. As he watched, she selected one of the arrows. Instead of notching it in the bowstring, she deliberately touched the point to one forearm and dragged it across the skin.

The scales parted as if at the touch of a razor. The blood that appeared in the wound was almost black. Smoke rose from the incision and the blood bubbled as it contacted the air. Showing no sign of pain from the self-inflicted wound, the Gorgon wiped the tip of the arrow in the smoking blood, then set it to bowstring.

Her gaze is protection enough, he thought frantically, yet she takes no chances.

He would have to turn toward her again. He spun, making certain the shield was well up in front of his face. He raised and lowered it without pattern, taking care to keep his eyes on the floor whenever lowering it below his line of vision.

"Bow and arrow!" he shouted to his companions. "Keep your shields in front of you and vary the height, so she can't set on a target, and get back. She's ready to fire."

"How can we fight her?" asked Solon from one side. "If she's using arrows shell never let us in close!"

"Back off for now. We'll find a way."

They obeyed, starting backward. Perseus edged round to his left, trying to use the concealing columns to get behind the Gorgon.

Solon followed his instructions carefully, but Castor was still troubled by his wound. With his mind divided between his pain and the Gorgon, he lost his footing as he stumbled through the ritual pool.

His thoughts on keeping his eyes averted from the figure ahead, he turned away. But in so doing, he exposed his back.

The Gorgon let loose the arrow. It struck the retreating soldier squarely in the back. Castor let out a shocked scream of a timbre rarely heard even on the battlefield. He staggered forward, dropping sword and shield as he groped wildly for the burning arrow. It was hissing as the venom burned away the cloth and skin.

Mercifully, he fell face down into the water. The fire from the puncture spread to encompass his whole body. Even the pool began to steam violently.

Despite the horror that was her face, Medusa was capable of a smile of satisfaction. She notched another poisoned missile and prepared to select her next target. Perseus kept darting in and out from behind the columns, but that did not trouble her. The man was quick but she could easily cut him off and dispose of him at her leisure.

She was more concerned about the other, who was already safely past the pool and backing toward the exit. He might escape. She hesitated only a moment before raising the bow.

The arrow shot across the chamber. Unlike the unlucky Castor, Solon held on to both his balance and his wits. The arrow struck the base of the shield and flew off to splinter harmlessly against the ceiling.

The impact, however, knocked the shield out of Solon's hands and sent him tumbling backward. The shield landed on its edge and rolled out of reach, prompting a rasping shriek of delight from the Gorgon.

At that point Solon committed the fatal mistake of looking back to see how close his enemy was.

Those burning green eyes locked onto his own, and he was lost. They held him motionless. He could not tear his eyes away from that mesmerizing stare. And soon it did not matter.

As Perseus watched, his last friend and ally turned slowly gray. Flesh stiffened as a process normally requiring millions of years of heat and pressure occurred in a few seconds.

When it was over, Solon had joined the army of forlorn souls inhabiting the temple, a dead piece of rock empty of life, a caricature of humanity.

Perseus regained his senses barely in time. The next arrow grazed the rim of his shield. Solon's fate had provided Medusa with only momentary pleasure.

As with his lost friend, the force of the arrow sent him tumbling. But unlike the unfortunate Solon, Perseus managed to keep control of his shield. One thing he'd already resolved: he might die pierced and smoking like poor Castor, but he would perish as a creature of flesh and blood, not as a toy forever subject to Medusa's mocking laughter. He would die a man.

Keeping his gaze averted from the monstrosity on the steps he scrambled for better cover behind one of the larger statues.

Medusa was finding this game diverting. She hissed with delight and supplely glided down the stairs. With only one opponent remaining she could afford to relax and toy with him awhile. It was rare that she had the pleasure of live company.

From behind the statue Perseus watched her approach in the mirrored surface of his shield. Mightn't it be used another way? He slipped it off his arm and leaned it carefully against a second statue.