Medusa: Fate's Game Ch. 11

The acropolis. A palace of stone, marble, and walls lined with gold designs of the gods. Flat walls as high as thirty feet, and they circled three edges of the large structure. But, from their hidden perch, they were halfway in front of the palace, and the wide stairway that lead into it was as wide as the palace itself. Colossal pillars holding a grand arch lined the top of the stairway, and the stairway itself was shallow, short, and only served as a grandiose and luxurious display of wealth. Typical.

Two of the faceless guards stood within its center, torches up, spear as a walking stick, and red eyes casting random glances. Their movements weren't fluid, but almost random, erratic, like twitches. Well trained guards looking for movement in the dark, or more summoned entities that simply weren't human and didn't behave like them?

Her muscles froze. The pillars, the torches. She tilted her head to the side, and crept over the cliff edge to get up onto the mountain top. Plenty of darkness to be had, and some small trees and bushes were scattered around. She kept to them, peeked out from behind them, and waved in Darian as she got closer.

She recognized this place.

Hand found her sword grip, and started to draw it. She didn't tell herself to, didn't come to any realization, it just happened. But before she could get it halfway out, Darian grabbed her wrist. She snapped her head around to look at him, and he got close enough to put his lips next to her ear.

"What are you doing?"

"I... don't know. Fuck, I want to..." Grumbling, she put the sword back into the scabbard and got to her hands in a deep crouching squat. "I'll control myself." Her breathing was fast, irregular, and her heart wasn't doing much better. Fingertips were cold, tingling, and the hairs of her arms stood up. Didn't expect herself to be the one to lose control. Wonderful.

"Think we can sneak past them?" Darian said.

"The guards can't see in the dark any better than us." Patrius got close enough to speak to them, voice almost inaudible. Three heads jammed together in the dark. "I've tested it. "

Dangerous, ballsy. She liked that.

Past the guards and into the black of the palace center then? Pillars blocked her view a little, but beyond them she saw no torches or the flickering light of any nearby. The only concern was the guards at the front entrance, and getting past them, in and out.

Darian picked up a rock, and threw it. Otrera tried to grab it, but no luck; the pebble flew across the way to the other side of the island, and landed against some other rocks. The two guards looked at each other, then both began walking toward the noise.

Otrera buried her face in her hands. Kill Darian, kill him later. But the idiot child's tactic had worked at least, and as the guards — idiot guards, evidently — stepped off the stairway to investigate, the three of them slipped past them and into the open center of the palace.

Not too different from Tiryns. The pillars within were smaller, and atop them were roofs that held walkways atop them as well. No guards, no torches, just the night and eyes straining to see anything in the black.

The place grew more familiar with every passing second.

The three of them ducked into the side hallways, lined with columns on one side that lead into the center open area. The other side was walls and windows, and no light came from them. But as she ran her fingers over the walls and breathed in the smell, she started to follow her memory instead.

Darian and Patrius followed her, silent as she. They probably had no idea where she was going, but she was going first, and that seemed enough reason for them to follow. She knew though, she knew these walls, she knew the smell. Buried in the scent of the sea, it was almost easy to miss the aroma of washed blood and bone, but she could smell it.

She followed the contours of the acropolis center, fingers running along the wall, until she came to a stop at the opposite end from the entrance. The doorway was lined with something different this time, something gray. As her fingers ran over the stick-like material that lined the doorway, she drew her hand back, and snarled. Bone.

She stepped into the room.

Within, there was light. A small flicker that was a subtle wisp of orange against the black. A couple of dim candles sat in the center of the room, and the room itself was massive. So massive the walls seemed to curve inward with slopes of shadow.

But as the group approached the two candles, the three of them inhaled sharply once the contours of its silhouette made sense. A skull, and from within, a glowing light no brighter than a candle that lit up its two eye sockets. It sat upon an altar, a thin thing of curving stone with chaotic lines carved into it that stood four feet tall. The top was a bowl, shallow, wide, with its edges lined with an odd, bumpy surface. But now that she had the moment to look closely, she recognized the strange lining. Human teeth.

She remembered this skull. When she'd first seen it, it was wearing the Moirai mask, and instead of the orange glow, its eyes were glowing white. There'd been crimson dripping from the edges of the bowl. A blind fool would have noticed it was blood. But not her.

"Gods," Patrius said. "It's bone. And... and..."

Otrera turned to look at the man, but Patrius's gaze was wandering over the walls around them. As their eyes adjusted to the tiny light the enchanted skull provided, she too started to look over the walls. She recognized them as well. Her memory had them bathed in far more than just a bit of shadow though, but dozens of skulls and a lot of red.

Sure enough, as she approached, the skulls became visible. Her heart sank, and she raised a finger to run it over the arches of one skull. Dried blood.

"I wonder how many died for me," she said.

"Died for you?" Patrius walked over to her and looked at the skull she was touching. "What do you mean?"

"I... it..."

Darian grabbed her shoulder and shook his head. She shoved him off, but as the words came up, she swallowed them back down. Patrius didn't need to hear her sad sob story, and the resistance didn't need to either. No need to make them question her or her motives, no need to make a bad thing worse. She wanted to though. Guilt makes people do stupid shit.

But she wasn't stupid enough to let it ruin her. Shrugging, she lowered her hand, and walked the walls of the room. The light wasn't enough to go by, but she could see the bones that decorated the walls, and more than just skulls. Legs and arms, fingers and toes, ribs, the walls were decorated with them all, and she thanked the gods the darkness hid the subtleties of the designs for them.

The darkness didn't hide the two headdresses of royalty.

"Here," she said, and she got down on a knee in front of the crowns. Decorated with intertwining vines, the headdresses carried symbols upon their brow, and one carried a long sash behind it. Each was dotted with small golden spikes that jutted upward. And each headdress was covered in dirt, grime, and decaying stains of red. Tossed aside, like they didn't matter at all.

"Looks like they've been sitting here for a couple years at least." Patrius reached for one, but stopped short and shook his head. "So much for the King and Queen. We should get out of here, we got what we need. We know the sacrifices will be here in this room, and we can storm the acropolis with your help to stop Andromeda once she's trapped in here. No way out of this room." The old soldier motioned to the walls, and the size of the room fell into perspective. Large, tall, more than tall enough for Chimera, and wide enough for fifty men to stand shoulder to shoulder.

Enough room for a good fight.

"One way out," Darian said with a nod of his head toward the door. "But I've dealt with her before, sort of. I don't want to be trapped in a room with her, even with my friends with me."

Heh, friends. She hid her smile with a brush of her thumb, and turned to look around the enormous room once more. Memories of her kneeling in front of the altar, body shaking with fear and excitement, the smell of death everywhere. How could she not have known there'd been sacrifices to fuel the ritual? How willfully blind had she been?

Fingers tightened until her knuckles cracked.

"And of course, she might not be in here at all when we attack," she said. "She might trick us into thinking she is, then do... something."

"Let's get out of here before we leave traces behind." Patrius put a hand on her shoulder, and walked toward the exit.

She followed after him and Darian, but stopped in the doorway to look behind her. The skull upon the altar looked fresher than she remembered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~Chimera~~

On the hunt once more.

He breathed deep and sighed as the muscles in his body relaxed. Weight fell from his chest and neck, thorns deep in his sides vanished, and the rocks cutting into his feet crumbled to soft sand. To be free, let loose, to unleash havoc and blood and death, this is what the beast wanted. It may not have been the sheer brutality and mindless revenge or barbarism that the beast wanted, but hunting would do.

And this time he was hunting with a companion. Medusa slithered behind him, bow at the ready. He frowned at the bow, the magic of it, the arrows, the shaft; all a crutch.

Before them was the city. Behind them were the cliffs and forest. Beneath their feet the road ran forward into the winding bends of the buildings. It was better for the two of them to hunt near the city, but along the forest line where their kills could perhaps draw more manticore from the city to investigate. They would have to adapt to the situation as the night unfolded.

"The bow will be useless against the manticore," he said. "Hide it for now."

"Hide it?"

"Yes. The felines are far too fast for an arrow, and the night too dark. You have better options."

"You... you mean transform?"

Her voice but a squeak. He grumbled and turned to face her, crouched with one knee upon the dirt and one hand as well.

"Yes Medusa, transform. Use your claws, your body, your hair of snakes."

"But it drains me. Leaves me ssso exhausted, and—"

"How often do you practice it?"

"Practice?"

No wonder the creature was so weak when using her transformation. If she never purposefully learned how to use it, how could she hope to—

"I... I hunted boar, on my island. I had to transform to eat them."

"How often?"

"Once every few weeks, usually."

Better than he had hoped for. "Is it as exhausting for you then?"

"No. No then I... it feels different, to transform ssso controlled like that. When I transform for the hunt, I'm thinking about hunting, and going after the meal, and—"

"Then prepare for the hunt." He had no idea such a wondrous and perfect situation was sitting on the naive woman's lap... or belly scales. "That is what we are doing, hunting."

"I can't eat one of the manticore! They're way too big."

"One does not always hunt for food."

Indeed, 'Chimera', sometimes 'one' will hunt for the pure pleasure of the kill.

He rumbled, quiet but deep in his belly, and shook his head. The beast danced as a gentle shadow, far in the corner of his eye, just a fleeting thing with no sway or voice tonight. He would be safe from it, for the moment.

"So I should transform? Now?"

"Yes." He motioned to the trees nearby, and the two of them moved to hide in the shadow. "Can it be done silently?"

"Yesss... yes, just... hold on."

The serpent woman looked at him, then down at the grass where her eyes lingered. She was not comfortable with her transformation, where the snake monster was on her skin instead of inside her. Not comfortable as herself, and the monster was a part of that self. How hypocritical of him.

But hypocrite or not, it was her monster that was the force to be reckoned with.

Should he comfort her? A part of him considered reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder. He tried to imagine comforting Otrera with a tender touch and warm pat on the head, and grinned. She'd be likely to hurt him for the offense. But Medusa was not Otrera. She was a soft thing, fragile, sensitive, and naive.

And he'd grown to respect that, he realized. If everyone was as stone as he, or fire and ice like Otrera, there would be no soft grass or gentle streams, like Medusa.

The monster emerged. Slowly, silently, the thickness of her body increased, the weight of her snake half grew, and the musculature of her human half did as well. Snake skin formed over her human skin, and the scales grew larger with them. Her snake hair became a mane of pythons, and enormous claws grew from her fingertips. But most different was her face, part snake, part woman, part monster, with giant fangs, snake eyes pulled to the side of her face, and long snout.

He reached out, and patted her shoulder.

"Don't... don't touch me," she said. Her voice, a whisper in the night, was a mix of hisses and rasps, double layered, as if two were speaking.

He did not let go, but patted her yet again, and stepped in a little closer to offer her the best smile he could.

The giant serpent stared at him, and burst into laughter.

"Don't!" she said. Still a whisper thankfully, but he could tell she was struggling. "Don't do that with your faccce. You're... you should ssstick to your ssstrengths."

He nodded, sighed, and looked back to the road. So he could not smile, not the way Bellerophon could. At least he knew to not attempt it upon Otrera.

They waited for twenty minutes. A stone statue, and the waiting serpent, neither moving, barely breathing, and blended into the shadow and fog. The manticore could smell them if they got close enough, but until then, silhouettes against the fog were the better indicator.

Two approached. Silent, claws upon the road where the stones ceased and dirt began, the manticore left the city and moved toward the outskirts. Chimera picked up a rock, and threw it nearby, further into the woods, and past he and Medusa. The cats raised their heads, tails slithers of shadow in the mist, and chased after the noise.

Chimera motioned for Medusa to follow, and he followed after them. It would be only moments before they'd smell him, and in those few moments, he got closer, and closer. Little light to be found as they went deeper into the trees, and better yet, each tree and rock blocked more sound. Once they were very deep into the woods, they would be free to slaughter.

He licked his lips.

Medusa behind him was just as silent as he. Surprising, given her size. But she said she'd hunted boar in her monstrous form, and her snake skin made little nose as it moved over grass and twig. Broken branches cracked underneath her belly where they wouldn't make a noise, and as she lowered herself to the ground, eventually she walked with her hands in a prowl. Dead silent. He would not have heard her stalking him, if she ever decided to.

The two cats were mindless animals, from an older age where beasts were no longer immortal, but strong and dumb. Strong and dumb made for a dangerous combination, but also an easily exploited one. Licking a fang, he looked to the monstrous serpent behind him, and motioned for her to come closer.

She slithered up next to him, and leaned forward in between brush and tree. The two manticore were circling the area the rock had fallen, where trees were dense and a large rock sat between a circle of them. No one would find a thing in this place, where branches were pressed together and nature was a wall. Perfect.

He looked to Medusa, and waited. The huge creature looked at him, snake eyes large, and flicked her long fork tongue. Like looking into the eyes of a colossal reptile, with a mane of pythons to join it.

Medusa sighed, nodded, and struck out. Giant as she was, each tree, each rock, the ground beneath and the branches above, all served for a surface she used to push parts of her snake half against. Like water flowing around rocks, bursting through them, she pushed against the terrain and launched herself upon one of the manticore.

In her transformed state, it wasn't a fair fight. It wouldn't have been a fair fight even if the two of them had attacked her.

Even if.

The nearest cat turned to face her, but she was already upon him, claws out. They sank into the cat as the snake threw her massive weight onto it, pinned it, and forced its tail into the dirt with her snake half. Helpless, it couldn't sting her, couldn't bite her or claw her with its belly to the dirt. She began to coil around it.

He didn't want her to pin it, to coil it, to defeat it in such a slow and passive manner. As the second cat turned to the new attacker, Chimera did not move.

The second manticore dove upon Medusa, and claws sunk into her flesh. She screeched, turned to face the onlooker, and then around to look for Chimera. But still he did not move. Her cries would call nearby manticore, and he grinned as he waited.

Blood gushed out from her massive snake muscles, and the second cat raised its scorpion tail. Medusa raised her own tail to lash out as a whip, but the tight forest refused to provide room. Or at least it shouldn't have. Her tail cracked through several trees, and in the chaos of darkness and branches, wood exploded, splintered, and fell over the second manticore.

The first one was no longer pinned, not completely, and it forced itself up with its hind legs driving forward. What little mass Medusa still had on the creature was thrown aside, and the giant serpent roll over herself. But her claws were still in the cat, and the manticore turned with her as she rolled.

If she was stung, there was a good chance she'd live, as Chimera would if he was stung. But he'd be paralyzed and torn to pieces. Would she be paralyzed? He did not want to find out, but, as the second cat got back up from the underneath the mess of destroyed trees, it raised its tail. And he did not move. This was too important for him to intervene.

Medusa looked around, snake eyes almost glowing in the darkness. Chimera could tell she was panicking, trying to figure out what to do, trying to figure out how to control the situation. How could she deal with the two cats at once? How could she constrict one and defend herself from the other?

Hissing, screeching, she sank half a dozen of the massive pythons of her hair onto one half of the creature, and another half dozen onto the other. She turned herself over to face the second cat, the first cat in between them. A wall of flesh and fur between its stinger. But it would not last, and the second cat used the room made by the broken trees to start circling her faster, snarling and growling. And the cat in her grip raised its own tail, despite being sideways and up in the air, and readied its sting.

And then the cat was in two pieces. Her claws dug deeper into its chest and back, and pulled apart. The pythons, each with their own teeth deep in the creature's body, also pulled. And like a host of limbs, the array of snakes helped rip the creature in half. Spine separated with audible ripping of skin, flesh and fur tore apart, and organs fell to the grass as Medusa threw the two halves of the feline to each side of her.

In the mist of blood and fog, she struck forward at the second cat. The poor creature had been stunned by the death of its partner, and did not react as Medusa landed upon it. All her weight fell over it, crushing it to the ground as she wrapped herself around it with all haste. But instead of constricting it to death as a snake would, she put her bloodied hands against its roaring, snub-nosed face, and twisted.

With a snap, the creature's head was facing wholly the wrong direction. Twitching, it collapsed, and Medusa let go of it. The several spasms the dying creature made moved it a few inches across the bloodied dirt.