Medusa: Fate's Game Ch. 14

She stood in the road, and stared up at the sky. The sun had finished setting, and where there should have been a night sky, a light was growing, white and powerful. It was coming from where Darian had gone.

"What's going on?"

Sophia's voice. Otrera looked over her shoulder to the woman, and the oncoming crowd behind her. She looked terrified. Understandable, given they'd only just obtained their freedom, and the death screams filling the air sounded like something come to take it away.

"We don't know... it... Darian!" Shit. Shit shit shit. The mask. She hadn't told him about the mask. When she'd retrieved it, it hadn't said a word, and after what happened to Medusa, she didn't want to bring it up. Better everyone just not know the mask could talk. Better that no one knew a Fate's Child could wear it.

Stupid stupid stupid.

"He... he didn't... Everyone, wait here." Sighing, wincing, Otrera sheathed her sword, put her shield on her back, and started walking toward the growing white light in the distance.

"Wait!" Sophia came up behind her, and grabbed her wrist. "Wait, what's going on? Where's Bellerophontes? What's that sound?"

Tritus and his friends, even Hieremias came closer, and Rhea too. The crowd grew, and they all looked afraid.

"It's... just... just wait here. I'll go settle this." But she didn't get far before Pegasus was beside her. "You really should stay here Pegasus, he—"

The horse swung his head and hit her in the side hard enough to knock her back a few feet. She blinked at the horse, and Pegasus stepped in closer, stomping his hooves.

"... alright, let's go."

"We're coming too."

Otrera raised a brow at the two satyrs. Oh gods everyone was coming. Friends to the rescue? The death screams in the background destroyed any possibility of a chuckle.

"Fine. Everyone else, stay here, watch over Chimera. We'll go deal with this. We're not about to let shit go to Tartarus after all the lives lost to free the city," she said. The collective sigh of the crowd made her smile, and she offered them a nod and dismissing wave. They'd started looking at her differently since the battle, and more like her sisters did during her queenly years.

The thought made her a little sick to her stomach. A few days ago, she said she was ready to let the whole city die, for all she cared. And now she was going out of her way to help them again, even console them. Guess you just can't get away from who you are, Otrera.

She nodded at Pinna and Gallea, and started walking. Why didn't she say anything? Why didn't she tell anyone? That voice, rasp and ice buried, it cut through her when it spoke, and she'd never forget it. Stupid idea, to hope it wouldn't be an issue.

Lightning cracked the sky, and thunder ripped through the earth a moment later. Close enough, loud enough, it was like the battle on the mountain, and the lightning that marked Andromeda's summoning. It stopped Otrera in her tracks, and when the thunder rolled under her, she made a little jump.

The screaming only grew louder.

She gulped, and pressed on. The light ahead was on the road, still a ways away, but as they came closer, the light got brighter. The trees cast black shadows, the wind picked up until branches cracked against each other, and clouds of dirt caught in the wind ran over her feet. The closer they got, the more it turned into a windstorm, and the three of them had to raise an arm to block their eyes from the dirt. Poor Pegasus had no such option, and he lowered his head to keep it behind Gallea's back.

She wasn't sure what she was doing. She wanted to get to Darian, help him, and she had no idea why. The fuck happened to have her doing this, marching toward what was clearly a choir of death screams? She got what she wanted, revenge against Andromeda. And more besides that, she got a lover and some respect from a city too. Done. She was done.

Well, if that was true, she wouldn't be walking toward the man who'd killed her, hoping to help him.

As they rounded the next turn in the road, they all stopped, and stared at the sight before them. Darian was on his knees, but leaning back with his arms dangling at his sides, face pointed up.

He was wearing the mask, and the death screams were coming from him. Glowing white surged from the mask, its eyes and mouth, and poured over the nearby trees.

"Shit! Shit, we have to get that off of him!" Otrera ran forward, but an explosion of wind sent her flying backward, rolling over herself. Again lightning cracked, and struck the mask with an ear-splitting explosion of sound that had all of them on their knees, holding their ears with their hands.

The light coming from Darian's eyes, the masks eyes, erupted. A blazing wave of light cut through the sky, and what signs of night there once was vanished as the forest was bathed in light.

"You won't have me!"

Darian's voice, cut and mixed with banshee screams. His body wasn't moving, except for the occasional twitch of his muscles. Through the chaos, through lightning strikes that hit his mask, through the explosions of sound and thunder and wind, even as a crater started to grow around Darian's body, he didn't move. There were no clouds above, no rain, nothing to allow lightning to come from on high. And when Otrera, still on her stomach from getting flipped over, forced herself to watch with squinted eyes, she saw the lightning strike up and out from the mask, not to it.

Pinna and Gallea were hidden behind trees, far as she could tell, and Pegasus was low to the ground and doing his best to not get knocked over by the random blasts of wind. Any moment now, she expected people from the city to come rushing up the road and make things worse, but none came. They listened to her, thankfully.

The four of them stared at Darian, eyes wide, tears in their eyes from the cutting winds. What was happening? He put on the mask. He said 'you won't have me.' She slapped herself in the forehead. This was all her fault. Gods damn it.

Fingers against the dirt, she started to crawl forward. More lightning struck out from the mask, up against the sky where it tore the darkness in half, then spread out like veins. Another strike snapped out against the tallest trees, splitting one of them down to the trunk. White fire erupted, splashed over the nearby trees and road, and faded away. But the exploding bits of bark and nearby rocks forced Otrera to cover her face, and she winced as they dug into her arm.

The wind was only getting worse, and so were Darian's screams.

"What's going on?" Gallea said. The little man was hiding behind a tree near his wife, a big one, as smaller trees were starting to bend and crack with the onslaught.

"I don't know! The mask has something inside it! Darian must have—" Otrera's jaw dropped as Pinna vanished. The satyr adjusted her horns a bit — or something near her horns Otrera couldn't see — and then went poof. Mental note: ask her about that later, and don't be nice.

Pegasus started to push forward. Otrera tried, digging at the ground, but every attempt to get up was met with tearing winds that cut her skin with rock and dirt. And the horse was getting cut too. He folded his wings tight to his body, including the damaged one, and pushed forward. Progress was slow, as each step was met with a powerful gust that pushed him back, but he kept at it. Step after step, the horse started to bleed across his shoulders, his back, and all along his white fur the crimson started to trickle and smear as Pegasus pushed himself toward the growing crater.

Lightning struck the sky, the trees, rained white fire onto them. If things got worse, they'd have a true forest fire on their hands. Thunder mixed with the shattering of rocks and splitting of trees, and the host of explosive noises joined Darian's cry.

"I won't let you!" Darian's voice again, and each syllable shook the ground around them.

But Pegasus didn't stop. He pushed through the windstorm and the banshee screams, pushed through the flying rocks and shaking ground, and collapsed onto his knees against Darian.

The horse lay there, his neck against Darian's chest, and his wings forced away and open by the tide of unending force. Otrera tried to get closer, maybe use Pegasus as a barrier between her and Darian, but the energy pouring out of him had other ideas. Every attempt to get closer to him ended in failure, and she could see Pegasus getting torn apart.

A final lightning crack shot up into the sky, loud enough to deafen Otrera. Her ears, ringing and aching, searched for other sounds, but found none. The wind died down, the lightning stopped, and the skin-splitting rocks ceased. She looked around, to Gallea, to Pegasus still sitting against Darian, and tapped herself on the ear. Ears still ringing, but they worked, and she got to her feet.

No more lightning, thank the gods. She looked up at the trees around them, and many of them were cracked and split. The crater around Darian had grown, wide and deep, with fissues spreading out into the nearby earth, into the woods, and further down the road.

Groaning, Otrera got up and walked toward the two of them. But as she grew near, she smiled as the ringing in her ears faded, and was replaced with a gentle murmur.

"I'm... I'm ok," Darian said, and his hand stroked Pegasus's bloodied mane. "I'm... I'm in control."

She'd heard that before. But, he did sound normal... ish. His voice, while Darian's once more, also carried a bit of echo and depth that made him sound large. And for a moment, looking down at the kneeling man, she thought of Chimera and his booming voice.

"You ok?" she said, and hopped into the crater. "You — oh! You're..." Darian was still wearing the mask, and the small hooks on its edges were digging into his flesh. But no blood. A small, consistent glow of white came from his eyes, and when he spoke, white light came from his mouth. When he didn't speak, she couldn't see his lips through the mask, only an endless void.

"I'm fine. I... oh." He looked around, at the crater now some twenty feet wide, the cracked trees, some of them burning. He looked down at himself, the horse still leaning against him, the two of them on their knees, and the chaos of destruction the mask had caused. "I could feel your warmth," he said, and he stroked Pegasus's mane. "Thank you Pegasus. Thank... thank you. Moros, he—"

"Moros?" Otrera jumped back, and stared at the masked man before her. "Moros is in the mask? The Moros?"

Darian nodded, and stood up. Pegasus tried to stand as well, but a flurry of little cuts and along his fur, face, and wings had rendered him a bloody heap. Otrera and Darian both got underneath him and tried to help prop him up, but a horse wasn't an easy thing to carry.

But Pegasus pushed through it. He shook his head, drove his hooves into the ground, and got up. Wavering, bleeding, but up.

Darian patted the white horse on the neck. He leaned in, but pulled away; probably realized he was wearing a mask.

"We'll get you back to the city. They'll treat your wounds. I had no idea what was going on outside, until... until your stubborn ass." Chuckling, the Fate's Child looked Otrera's way. "You too?"

"Yeah... me too." She shrugged. "We heard a shit load of screaming, came running."

He looked around, eyes a consistent glow, breathing slow, and deep. Wearing his Fate-gifted armor, it was a perfect match for the black mask, and Otrera found herself unable to look away from him as he scanned the area. The mask was terrifying.

He shot out his arm, and grabbed something. Nothing there, just the air, but his hand squeezed around something anyway, and drew it near.

"Pinna," he said, "you... oh. I see." His other hand reached out, and if he truly was holding Pinna and not just going insane, he grabbed where her horns would be.

Pinna turned visible, eyes so wide she looked like she was about to die of fright. Her hands held Darian by the wrist, and she struggled and kicked. But Otrera could see from how Darian was holding the now suddenly visible satyr that he wasn't choking her.

"What... what are you..."

In his other hand, a cap appeared. Small skulls, no bigger than a fingernail, dangled from the edges of the black leather, and gold lines swirled across it in patterns not dissimilar to Darian's mask. He held it to the side, and looked at it through the glowing white eyes of his mask.

The mask's eyes glowed white, surged with light in a blinding flash, and the cap erupted into white fire. Otrera jumped away, and blinked down at the bits of burning leather.

"What was that?" she said.

Darian emitted a slow, deep rumble, a sound he should not have been able to make, and looked back to Pinna. She was still struggling to escape, and as Darian's other hand reached for her neck, she really started to panic.

"No! Don't! I—"

With a flick of his finger, Darian yanked something from her neck. Otrera heard it snap, and she stepped closer as a tiny thread became visible on Darian's fingertips, dangling. And then it too burned away in a snap of white fire.

He let go of Pinna's throat, and the little satyr fell away. She was shaking, and staring at Darian's fingers where the thread had been.

"You... you... I can't... I don't understand."

Darian redirected the hand toward Gallea, and pointed at him. "Come here. Now." Again, the deep rumble of his voice came from the glowing white of the mask's mouth.

Gallea, gulping so loud Otrera could hear it, hopped over to stand by his wife. Darian reached out, plucked something hidden from the satyr's neck, and as it snapped, the tiny thread flickered visible for only a moment before Darian incinerated it too.

"You are both free of the Fates. Do... do whatever you want."

Gallea fell down to his knees next to his wife, grabbed her hand, and stared up at Darian. "You're... Moros?"

Darian shook his head, and patted Pegasus's neck when the horse nudged against him. "You, stay here. Whatever Moros did, this place, you, look like you've been torn apart. I said stay here, now stay here with the people." He knelt down in front of Gallea, close, mask only a couple feet from the two satyrs' trembling faces. "Gallea, I have a favor to ask."

"A-anything! You freed us, I... can't believe you freed us. If I can do it, I—"

"Summon Charon's ship, and once I've boarded, send it to the underworld."

"W-what? Why!? You don't want to go there Bell — Darian! The living can't go there! You'll be—"

"Let me worry about me, Gallea."

Pinna leaned in. "But why? Why are you going there?"

Darian stood up, looked to the sky with his mask-covered face, and took a deep breath.

"I'm getting Medusa back."

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

The ship obeyed Gallea's pan flute, and slowly but surely, emerged from the water. Huge, and with the veil that hid it gone, visible for all to see.

And all was everyone. Much as Otrera had tried to insist the city people stay in the damn city, many of them had come down to the shore to see what was going on. A lot of them gasped when they saw Darian wearing the mask, and a lot more gasped when they saw what had happened to Pegasus. Poor horse was covered in a thousand cuts, many hidden in his coat. It'd take a lot of people to get him back to the city, and sit him next to Chimera. At least a horse's flesh wounds were easy to care for, compared to the giant.

Darian had nearly killed his companion. Not Darian, Moros. Moros was inside the mask. The Moros. Otrera glanced Darian's way as they waited on the shore for the ship to arrive, and felt another shiver go up her spine. It happened every time she looked at the man, and the mask he wore. He was wearing the mask of Moros, the all-destroying Moirai, the bringer of death and ultimate end to everything. Bringer of doom.

And yet, he was in control. Darian stood there, arms folded across his chest, patient, calm, while Charon's ship approached. Without its veil up, the people on the shore got to watch the mighty, massive ship near, and once it was as close as it could safely, a small boat rose from under the water next to it. The undead upon it, with their green glowing eyes, were visible to everyone, including the dangling green lanterns.

"The undead!" Sophia said.

Gallea nodded, and squatted down by a fire they'd built on the shore. Middle of the night, after all.

"Charon's ship is how we got around Greece without people seeing us. And... I guess it's how Darian wants to get to the underworld."

Every damn time Gallea said the U word, the crowd gasped. Otrera rolled her eyes, but joke as she might to herself, going to the underworld was giving her just as much a chill as knowing she was doing it with Moros. And she was going, no matter what Darian might say.

"Bellerophontes, I... I feel I should apologize, about Patrius, I—" Tritus stopped when Darian raised a hand.

"You didn't know. He didn't even know. Just... just remember what happened truthfully, will you? Remember that Medusa gave everything to save a woman she didn't even know, and Athena killed her for... for nothing." The masked man lowered his head, and let out a long, slow sigh. When he did, white mist escaped from the mask's mouth before fading into the air. "Think twice, before you mindlessly obey a god. They're not what you think they are."

Not what they think. Otrera shivered again, and ran her hands along the white bow. No reason to not take it after all. She even had Perseus's sword — not the shield though. That thing was ridiculously massive, and while she could lift it, she couldn't wield it with her height. She'd brought Darian's shield instead. But where they were going, she doubted the magical weapons would do shit.

"You... want us to betray Athena?" Sophia said, and she stepped up next to Tritus.

"I want you to use your damn heads." Darian turned around, and swept out his hand. A gush of wind poured out of his arm, crashed into the crowd, knocked many of them over, and silenced the crickets once more. The masked man sighed, bellowing voice coming out softer as the area grew still again while the crowd got back to their feet. "I want you to stop being sheep. Use your heads. Think for yourselves. That's it." And like that, he turned around, and jumped up onto the small boat with the undead.

Otrera jumped in after him.

"You really want to do this?" Darian said.

"I... no, not really. And yet here I am." She shook her head, buried her face in her palm for a bit, and sat down near one of the mindless skeletons. "Not sure why. Cause I'm a dumbass. Feel like I owe Medusa, maybe. Feel like... seeing this through, mostly."

"I can't guarantee your survival," he said, and he looked down to his hands, opened and closed them in front of himself, as if seeing his hands for the first time. "I... I can feel it, Otrera."

"Feel what?"

"... something greater than death, in my fingertips."

She gulped. Lot of that going around, gulping.

"... Darian, I—"

"I'm sorry, Otrera."

She blinked. His voice was heavy, and it wasn't the mask and the unnatural weight it gave his voice. No, his voice had a weight of its own, and he looked down over the edge of the boat as he talked.

"For what?"

"For—"

"All set?" Gallea hopped down the shore, wife beside him, and the two satyrs leaned over the edge of the small boat. "They have their instructions. They'll take you to the gates of the underworld. But once you're on the river Styx, it'll..."

Pinna reached out for Otrera's hand, and squeezed. "It'll be dangerous for even a Fate's Child. The things there... the Erinyes alone will be unstoppable, and then there's Cerberus, and Charon himself, and—"

Darian waved his hand, and discarded their worries. To dismiss the greatest fears of all humankind so easily made the satyrs blink and look to Otrera. But all she could do was shrug.