Page 56 of Crown of Serpents

Medusa was quiet as they crossed the farmland, the treeline of pine and cypress trees approaching fast. Still, Perseus noted with some satisfaction that she had relaxed in his arms, her body nestled against him as they rocked back and forth in the rhythm of the horse’s gallop.

Suddenly, a piercing cry tore through the morning’s tranquillity. Three shadowy figures swooped down from the sky, their leathery wings beating the air with ominous force. Despite the otherwordly glow of their yellow eyes and the razor-sharp teeth glinting in the sun, their faces were decidedly human. However, their female bodies were covered in grey feathers, and their broad wings carried them in the sky. The harpies chased Perseus and Medusa, their vulture-like talons outstretched, ready to snatch their prey.

Perseus spurred the horse into a frenzied gallop, holding on tight as they raced for the treeline. Medusa dug her fingers into the mare’s mane, her knuckles white.

One of the harpies let loose a battle cry, her voice shrill like the call of a hawk, diving toward them with outstretched claws. Perseus unsheathed his adamantine blade, ordering Medusa to duck as he deflected the attack. The creature shrieked in frustration as she avoided the gleaming blade. Her sister swooped down in a spiralling nosedive, raking her talons acrossthe horse’s flank while Perseus held the first harpy at bay.

Blood spurted, leaving a crimson trail in their wake. With a panicked cry, the mare reared on its hind legs, forcing Perseus to drop the adamantine sword to grab the reins with both hands and stay seated. They had almost reached the treeline that would shield them from the onslaught of the winged beasts, but their only weapon now lay in the dust behind them.

A third harpy descended, a bird of prey swooping to snatch them up. Medusa’s eyes widened as she saw the creature soar toward them. She yelled, rotating in her seat so she faced him, “Close your eyes, Perseus!”

“What?” How was he supposed to ride the horse blind?

Medusa did not heed his protest, covering his eyes with her hand. “Trust me.”

She lifted her veil with a swift movement just as the harpy’s sharp talon pierced Perseus’s shoulder. For a few agonising heartbeats, he was airborne, caught in the unyielding grip of the demon woman. Then, he crashed to the ground as marble splintered around him. The broken remains of the petrified harpy lay scattered around him. Her sisters circled above, wailing in rage.

Perseus scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pounding in his head. They needed to reach the treeline. Medusa struggled to tame the horse, her face a sickly shade of green, as the wounded beast buckled and bent, running in circles, trying to shake her off.

Perseus leapt toward Medusa. “Jump, Medusa!”

Before Medusa could heed his words, the horse reared, rising to its hind legs and throwing her to the ground. Perseus raced to her side as the mare bolted, its lifeblood staining the golden fields. He wrapped his arm around Medusa, supporting her weight as they rushed for the sanctuary of the cypress trees.

Perseus glanced over his shoulder and saw the harpies tearing into the fleeing horse. Blood sprayed as one of the winged women lifted the animal, ripping out its throat with her razor-sharp teeth. The other harpy chased them, her yellow eyes glowing hungrily as she tucked her wings in, rushing toward her prey. Another few meters and they would reach the forest.They could make it if they were fast enough.

He hoisted Medusa onto his back, her injured leg a dead weight against him. She pursued them relentlessly, their cries a terrifying chorus. The winged shadow swooped down once more, and Medusa covered his eyes. He stumbled on blindly as the earth behind him shook with the impact of the petrified monster crashing to the ground.

Finally, they reached the treeline, the branches of the cypresses and pines shielding them from the remaining harpy’s sight. Although he was panting heavily, Perseus pushed deeper into the shadowy underbrush. Above the wailing cries of the winged woman haunted them, desperately searching for the prey she had lost sight of. When the beating of her mighty wings had grown distant, Perseus collapsed against a tree trunk, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Medusa sank beside him, her emerald hair tangled with leaves and twigs.

“What in Hades was that?”

Perseus shook his head, a chill seeping into his bones. “I don't know why they attacked us.”

It couldn’t have been random. Harpies didn’t act of their own accord. The winged women were known to be Zeus’s bloodhounds, sent to pursue and punish those who have offended the gods.

Medusa’s voice was grim, “It seems the Olympians have revoked their blessing for your mission, godling.”

Her words weighed heavily on Perseus. He refused to slay themonster, killing Poseidon’s pet instead. And now, he had lost the blade his father had given him.

Thunder rolled in the distance, and Perseus knew they had to act swiftly to avoid the gods’ wrath.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Andromeda sat alone on the straw cot in her cabin. They had docked in a harbour for the first time since leaving Joppa. Perseus and Medusa were on a secret mission, and the remaining crew had ventured into the small town to restock supplies and get drunk in the local taverns. The ship was abandoned save for her and Mikis, who had refused to leave since Perseus had ordered that the ship be guarded at all times.

She had never left Joppa. Even though the town was little more than a village, she itched to see the market, smell the scents of the local herbs and blend in with the crowd. Still, she remained in her cabin, hidden away from prying eyes. She was meant to be dead. She could not risk being seen.

The cabin door creaked open, revealing Kleos, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Hey, Princess. Fancy a stroll?”

„Not particularly,” she lied.

Kleos cocked his head, studying her face. “Are you sure? There is a lovely vendor on the market square selling himationsand gowns. You should buy some … unless you want to wear my tunic after all.”

Andromeda glared at him, resisting the urge to wave her hand in the same vulgar gesture she had seen Medusa use on Perseus many times. He was right, of course. She'd been wearing the same tattered dress since their escape from Joppa. Kleos had teased her about it before, offering his own clothes, which she'd stubbornly refused. Now, he dangled a pouch of silver drachmae before her, knowing she had no money of her own.

“And I’m assuming in exchange for buying me new clothes, you expect me to go on a walk with you?”

“Of course not, Princess,” he laughed, throwing her the pouch. “I don’t want tobuyyour attention.”

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