The Oracle of Delphi (Greek Myth Fantasy Series) (3 page)

“You bastard! How dare you come to my household and demand I humble myself before you.”

The king’s men drew their swords, but not before Perseus had his own sword drawn and pointed right at the king. Polydectes held up a hand and stopped his men from advancing. Dictys and Iris ran from the house, stopping suddenly when they saw the challenge taking place.

“Brother, what are you doing?” yelled Dictys, making his way through the guardsmen. “You severely outnumber my son. Tell your men to put down their swords.”

“It is not what I’m doing,” he answered. “Perseus has challenged me by refusing to show me proper respect. And the man is not your son, brother, though you continue to think of him as such. So stop trying to protect him.”

“Perseus meant no disrespect,” countered Dictys. “Now please, tell your men to lower their swords.”

“Perhaps Perseus would like to talk for himself.” King Polydectes raised an eyebrow, crossing his chubby arms over his flabby chest.

“I shall.” Perseus kept his sword pointed at the island’s ruler as he spoke. “You are no king, Polydectes. You are a traitorous cutthroat who takes what he wants in broad daylight. You tax the inhabitants of this island until there is nothing left to tax. You even take all you can from your own brother - the fish he has caught, and the wheat he has grown, filling your own belly while we nearly starve. The people of Seriphus deserve better than you. My mother - ”

“Perseus, please,” came his mother’s plea.

“No, no,” Polydectes clucked. “I see your concern for your mother. I think it is admirable that you have not spoken out against me before now, honoring your own mother’s wishes. She obviously means much to you, doesn’t she?”

Perseus knew where this conversation was leading. He reached out a protective arm toward Danaë, but Polydectes already had her surrounded, his warriors pulling mother from son.

They did not come after him, though they outnumbered him one to forty. He could have taken them on single-handedly if he chose to use his godly strength. But cunning won out as the king’s warrior’s surrounded Danaë, sharp blades pointed right for her heart.

“Let her go, or I’ll be forced to run you through with my blade,” warned Perseus.

“You do and she will be dead before you retrieve it.”

Frustration clenched at his jaw, and Perseus knew his threats were for naught. Polydectes had seen his weakness and used it against him. He could not fight now or he would risk the life of his own mother.

“What is it you want, Polydectes?” Perseus asked in a low voice.

The villagers looked on, and Dictys frowned at his brother. Iris hid behind her husband, and Danaë cautioned Perseus with a sideways glance.

“Bring me the head of Medusa, the Gorgon,” the king commanded. “You bring it to me, and I swear I will let your mother go free.”

“No!” Danaë warned him. “Don’t do it, Perseus. It is too dangerous.”

Perseus knew of which monster the king spoke. He’d heard the stories from Dictys of the woman who was punished by the gods. She had once been a beautiful human, but now lived on an island with two other Gorgons as nothing more than a monster. With hard scales covering their bodies and wings on their backs, the Gorgons had never been beat by any warrior.

Their hair consisted of live snakes, writhing and hissing in all directions. The two original Gorgons were immortal and could not be killed. But since Medusa was once a human, she wasn’t invincible. But she did have a power that no man could fight. One look into her eyes, be she dead or alive, and the warrior would turn instantly to stone.

“It is nothing but a mission of self-death,” called Dictys to his brother. “You cannot expect Perseus to risk his life because you want to use the beast’s head as a weapon of war to make yourself more powerful.”

“He is the son of a god, is he not?” the king called over his shoulder. “Let us just see how a demi-god would fight the beast. You like competitions, Perseus. Are you up for the challenge?”

Perseus looked at his mother who was shaking her head, begging him not to go. Her eyes teared, and her limbs trembled. The same look of saddened horror he had seen earlier was only heightened by this situation. Then he looked at Polydectes smiling triumphantly in his direction. His army of men stood with swords raised around Danaë, waiting for their king’s next command.

Even a demi-god had his weaknesses. Perseus could not endanger his mother’s life any longer.

“All right,” he agreed. “I will bring you what you want in return for my mother’s life.”

“You return with Medusa’s head in one week … or I will kill her.”

“Give me a fortnight and you will have your precious Gorgon’s head. But I warn you, if you hurt my mother in any way while I’m gone, I will kill you myself when I return.”

The tears in his mother’s eyes were breaking him apart. He had never meant for this to happen. But he was determined that nothing was going to stop him from succeeding. He would slay Medusa and free his mother. Then he would take her far away from Polydectes and the island of Seriphus forever.

“All right,” said Polydectes. “But if you are even one day late, your mother’s life will be taken by my own hand.”

Perseus replaced his sword in his scabbard, watching as the king’s men hurried her off to the castle. His mother didn’t deserve this treatment. Her sorrowful life should be filled with joy instead. He would bring her the joy she deserved if it were the last thing he ever did. Her life would change soon, and he would be the one to do it.

“Dictys,” called Perseus. “Can you sail me to the mainland? I have a Gorgon to kill.”

Princess Andromeda approached the cave on horseback, able to see the huge stone statue of Apollo guarding the entrance to the cave even from the bottom of the mountain. She had come a long way from her father’s kingdom in Thessaly. She knew she should not be here alone, and especially not without requesting an audience, but her will and determination drove her forward, desperate to try to save her own life. Her villagers were being consumed in massive numbers at the jaws of the sea serpent sent upon them by Nereus, the sea god.

The proud boasting of her parents, Queen Cassiopeia and King Cepheus, saying her own beauty far surpassed that of the sea nymphs, is what brought the wrath of the god upon their heads. Nereus’s daughters numbered fifty, and to compare a human to fifty nymphs was indeed a hideous crime.

Thessaly in turmoil, her father had come to seek an answer from the Oracle of Delphi. But the answer he’d returned to Thessaly with, was one Andromeda did not want to hear. The oracle had suggested her life be sacrificed in order to sate the sea serpent and set their village free.

While her parents loved her dearly, they had never gone against the oracle’s words. She was indeed to be sacrificed to the sea serpent, and only because of the help of her father’s steward did she escape with her life. Klaus had seen to it she had secured a horse and ridden off without being detected. Had her father known, Klaus would have been sentenced to death for what he had done.

Andromeda needed to find a solution that would free Thessaly from the sea beast and at the same time spare her own life.

She dismounted lightly, pulling her cloak around herself to keep her identity hidden. One look over her shoulder led her to believe she had not been discovered. Tying her horse’s reins onto a limb of a tree, she scanned the entrance to the cave, expecting to see a warrior at the door. Luck was with her, as no one but the stone Apollo guarded the entrance.

The sky clouded over, and thunder split the air, forcing Andromeda to hurry. The waves crashed upon the cliffs in the distance, and she had no doubt Nereus had heard of her escape. She stopped just inside the cave while rain poured down. Steam came off the stones at the foot of the entrance. Lowering her hood, she shook the water from her soaked clothing and inched forward cautiously.

Her parents once told her she had spent time with the priestess of the oracle when she was nothing more than an infant. Her parents hoped she would be trained to someday take the oracle’s place. But her fate supposedly held a different route - a route not made known at the time by the oracle’s prophecies. Now she hoped her fate hadn’t been to die in the belly of a sea serpent. She had to know for sure. She had to hear it from the oracle herself or she would never believe it.

The smell of damp earth invaded her nostrils, mixed with the essence of burning herbs and rotting filth. It stirred a memory deep within her, a vague remembrance of sitting on the priestess’s lap as a baby while the woman contacted the oracle. Andromeda prayed not to remember more, as it frightened her so.

Torches lit the stone stairway, guiding the way to the pit. Flames leaped up to greet her from the platters of burning oil perched atop floor-stands lighting the space before her. She ran her hand along the stone cold wall, descending the stairs that would take her to the Oracle of Truth. Her breathing labored when she heard a hollow ringing sound, stirring memories of her infancy to life.

Then she saw it. A pit. A dark pit which she knew had no bottom. A tall golden chair with three legs stretched across the pit and traveled high into the air like a pyramid paying homage to the gods. Her eyes followed it upward, settling on the beautiful vision of a priestess - a queen atop her throne.

The woman wore a gown of pure white. Laurel and white wool, wrapped in a circlet around her golden hair. Andromeda felt a sense of kinship with this woman. Almost as if she had returned home. The eyes of the priestess were closed, and her head wobbled back and forth as if she were in a trance.

Five hooded priests walked out from behind a stone wall encircling the pit. Scrolls tucked under their arms, they also carried feather-tipped writing instruments in their hands. She stood silently in the shadows, watching.

They did not look at her, and she was not even aware her presence was evident until the priestess, eyes still closed, called out her name.

“Princess Andromeda. We’ve been expecting you.”

She felt a shiver run the course of her spine. Nobody knew her destination, yet the priestess spoke as if she’d requested an audience prior to her arrival. Truly, the oracle could foresee the future.

“I . . . come to ask a question.” She cleared her throat and waited for a response.

The priestess’s eyes opened and looked right through her.

“You want to know how to rid your village of the sea serpent.”

Andromeda nodded, the lump in her throat being in the way of her speech.

“I will consult the oracle,” she said, and closed her eyes again.

Andromeda waited, but nothing happened. The priests stood waiting also, anticipating an answer. She thought the priestess had fallen asleep and was about to ask a second time, when thunder boomed. It echoed off the cave walls, and caused the golden tripod fixture to vibrate and ring out once more.

A thick, putrid mist raised from the pit, surrounding the priestess to the point that Andromeda could barely see her. The woman atop the chair twisted and her head jerked. Her eyes remained closed, while the mist seemed to became one with her body.

Andromeda vibrated, closing her eyes, feeling the oracle’s presence strong and firm. It felt so familiar that she wondered if possibly she did have the gift of contacting the oracle also. Then the priestess spoke with quick, inaudible gibberish words. Andromeda watched as the priests scribbled fast across their scrolls. They may have understood, but she did not. Mayhap this was the reason she was not destined to follow in the oracle’s footsteps.

She stepped forward bravely, only inches from the stone circle around the pit.

“I do not understand,” she said, looking up at the priestess. “Can you please slow down your words?”

Through the priestess’s lips came a sibilant whisper, turning into an eerie, ugly voice that froze Andromeda to the spot.

“Only a demi-god such as Perseus can slay the sea serpent.” The voice was not of the priestess, but rather of the mist or whatever lived in the bottomless pit.

“But surely, there must be a way to stop it from consuming the people of my village.”

“Your parents have erred by angering the gods. Only a sacrifice will stop the serpent now.”

“A sacrifice,” she repeated. “Yes, that is a fine idea.” The oracle hadn’t mentioned Andromeda at all, and she felt a sense of relief wash over her. “A lamb or perhaps even a calf is good, I suppose. Or should it be a sacrifice of crops from the field, or mayhap some of the villagers’ possessions?”

She gave every suggestion she could think of, hoping the oracle liked her ideas of what to sacrifice to the sea serpent. But just as she thought she had swayed her decision, the oracle spoke again.

“You are that sacrifice, Andromeda,” said the voice. “If the serpent is to be stopped, you must give your life to sate its hunger.”

“No,” she cried. “Surely you are mistaken. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m the one who came here to save my people, but I will not give my life to do it.”

“Giving your life is suggested.”

“Suggested,” she repeated. “Now what does that mean? Are you saying my fate is already determined, or are you saying it can still be changed?”

The oracle hissed through the priestess, obviously challenged by Andromeda’s words. Andromeda was sure no one had ever spoken so boldly to the Oracle of Delphi.

The priestess jerked and twisted again, almost falling from the tall chair into the pit. Two of the priests tucked their scrolls into their robes quickly, scurrying up the gold ladder, taking the priestess into their arms and guiding her to the ground. The foul-smelling mist subsided, finally disappearing into the dark pit.

“The oracle has spoken,” was all she heard, no louder than a whisper.

She quickly followed the priests who were taking the weak priestess into a back room built into the cave.

“Wait!” she called, holding up a hand, but they did not pay her any attention. “You can’t leave yet. I need an answer.”

She found herself alone in the middle of the large, frightening cave. Fire still burned in the floor sconces and from the torches stuck into the cracks of the stone wall. She looked at the three entwined stone serpents carved into the short wall that circled the pit. Their gemstone eyes glowed with the reflection of the fire. She had heard that the mist from the pit was the spirit of the dead. The oracle spoke through this mist, entering the priestess’s body to give its answers. Mayhap she could do the same. She had felt its presence when the priestess joined with it just now. She decided to try to get a different answer from the oracle on her own.

The chair still vibrated, and she reached out her hand to touch it. It called to her, lured her closer, bringing back memories of her infancy sitting atop the priestess’s lap when the oracle was called forth. Before she knew it, she found herself climbing the gold steps that led up to the tripod chair.

Her body felt surprisingly calm, as if the chair itself caressed her. As she settled herself atop the high seat, she looked down into the deep, dark pit and felt it calling to her.

Was there really something down there that could see the future? The stench from the mist lingered and her head lightened. A chill ran up her spine causing her to shiver. Fear and anxiety consumed her and suddenly, she was not at all confident. She no longer knew if she could call forth the oracle - and survive. She had decided to crawl back down when a voice called to her from the place she had stood just moments before, waiting for her own answer from the Oracle of Delphi.

“Oh great priestess, I come unannounced, but I humbly seek your help. I need an answer from the oracle, please.”

She looked down at the man looking up at her. His tall, muscular frame stood rigid, like a warrior preparing for battle. Handsome was he, more handsome than any of the men in her own village. His hair had a slight curl to it, shining the color of acorns in the firelight. His regal face graced him as an Adonis in her eyes. His high cheekbones and long nose led to a thin mouth, accentuating the slight shadow of stubble on his jaw.

One hand rested on the sword at his waist. His feet were spread and planted in a warrior’s stance. His traveling clothes consisted of a long tunic with a bright red cape thrown carelessly over one shoulder. She wondered who he was, as she had never seen him before. Probably a traveler passing through on his way to sell his services to a king’s army.

“Who are you?” she found herself asking, mesmerized by the man’s hawk-like eyes. His brows dipped above his golden orbs as if he felt confusion.

“I am Perseus, dear priestess. I thought the oracle would know my identity without my confirmation.”

She suddenly realized he thought she was the Oracle of Delphi. She’d almost forgotten she’d climbed atop the priestess’s chair. She shifted and opened her mouth, meaning to correct him. But then his name, Perseus, resonated within her mind and she suddenly remembered the oracle saying he - a demi-god - would be the only one able to slay the sea serpent of Nereus.

“I come to ask the way to the Gorgon’s island,” he called. “I need to find and kill the one called Medusa.”

“The Gorgons?” she gasped.

What was this man thinking? Everyone knew the Gorgons were undefeated. If he tried to slay them he would surely be turned to stone. She could not let that happen. She needed him. She had to convince him to slay the sea serpent instead, and therefore save her own life from being sacrificed. She sat back calmly in the chair, hoping she wouldn’t be struck down dead for what she was about to do.

She closed her eyes and wobbled back and forth a bit, just as she’d seen the priestess do. She hummed a few notes off-key and then spoke gibberish nonsense, hoping she sounded convincing.

“Please, tell me where to find Medusa,” he repeated.

She tightened her throat, took a deep breath and spoke in the strangest, low garbled voice she could manage.

“You must not slay Medusa. There is a sea serpent nearby which you must kill first.”

“What?” he asked, surprising her with his answer. “Why?”

“Why?” She opened her eyes, horrified that he should ask that question. Wasn’t he supposed to fear and obey the oracle without asking for explanations? She saw the curious look on his face and knew she had to revert back to her act. She snapped her eyes closed again and continued to rock, desperately seeking an answer that was not there.

“Do not ask questions of the oracle.” She peeked through one eye to see Perseus surveying her, coming a bit closer. She suddenly remembered she needed to disguise her voice and dropped it an octave as she finished. “You must do it or you will die.”

“I must kill the Gorgon and bring her head back to King Polydectes within a fortnight, or my mother will die. I am sorry, but I do not have time for this. Now please tell me where to find the Gorgons.”

“No!” she snapped, her eyes opening in the process. “I can’t tell you until you kill the sea serpent first.”