Medusa, A Love Story (The Loves of Olympus) (37 page)

She ignored the slip of the snakes as they stretched forward. They would find the prey they heard, unless she succeeded.

“Set the shield, Perseus, and I will go to it. You will have but a moment, while they are distracted. Be quick, I beg you.”

She heard him moving rapidly, no longer worried about stealth or grace.

“It’s done.” His voice was agitated.

She followed his voice and found the shield, resting at the broken base of one of the temple’s columns.

She stared at the shield, fighting a flash of memory. She’d been a child when she’d first looked upon this shield. Athena had stood straight and tall, smiling down at her. And Medusa had been overwhelmed with love for the Goddess.

She shook her head and closed her eyes, kneeling before the shield. Her hands searched the floor, grasping several rocks. She stood and took aim, but paused.

Beyond Perseus shield lay Ariston’s statue. His face, forever hardened in a tender admiration, stole her breath. But it was the gentle line of his right arm, still reaching out to cup her cheek, that captured her attention. It ended abruptly.

His arm lay on the ground, separated from the rest.

He was broken.

She swallowed her sob, and tore her eyes from the statue.

She heaved the stone at the shield, the metallic ping reverberating throughout the temple. Her companions twisted, all eyes fixed upon the shield.

Her vision went red, her neck steadied as the serpents readied for the kill.

Had they failed then? Her breath escaped, the sob slipping from her lips.

The cold kiss of steel struck the back of her neck, followed by a searing cut.

Darkness claimed her.

###

“She cannot cross, Ariston. She will fall,” Hades said calmly.

Ariston shook his head. “Fall?” Was there no end to the God’s meddling?

“It is the will of the Fates,” Hades explained. “Those cursed cannot travel with Charon. No funeral rites are given, so no penance can be made. Even as a shade, their curse follows them. They’re to be cursed in the Underworld too. They fall, from grace and favor, into Tartarus.”

“Then I will meet her there.”

“Are you so eager for eternal pain and suffering?” Hades asked.

“No,” he assured him. “But I can find no purpose in any existence without her. I tried and failed.”

Hades inclined his head.

“Mayhap I can help,” a woman spoke softly, moving from the shadows. “I am Aphrodite, Ariston of Rhodes. Olympus would give you two gifts.”

“Let me share Elysium with my wife,” he said at once.

Hades regarded Aphrodite. “And the other?”

“That is all I wish.” There was nothing else, he knew.

Hades regarded him intently, then beckoned him to the balcony overlooking all of the Underworld. “It can be done, but your trials are not yet over. She will still fall. You will have to catch her. Go to the fields there, and look up. You will see the eye of a storm cloud, churning above. Fire, ice, rain, wind – all will rail against you. Look for the flash, a rift that splits the sky. It is then she falls. If you do not catch her, Ariston, she is lost to you. Even I cannot overrule the Fates.”

Ariston nodded, his eyes fixed upon the darkening skies.

Hades urged, “Go now.”

Ariston spoke quickly. “Thank you, Goddess. And you, my lord, Hades…”

“You’ve no time for pretty speeches.” Hades waved him away.

But Aphrodite smiled brightly at him.

Ariston nodded and made his way from the hall, Hades’ home, and across the bridge separating the massive black castle from the fields. His legs flew, moving towards the darkening clouds overhead. When he reached the field, his eyes turned towards the sky.

The clouds rolled, caught up and twisted by the strong pull of the wind. A clap of thunder shook the field, and the air crackled about him, pulling his hair straight up.

The wind roared hotly about him, scorching his neck and cheeks. His cloak twisted up, choking him. But then it lifted, burned or blown away. And still the heat scoured the inside of his nose and throat as he breathed.

Lightning struck the grass at his feet, splitting the ground wide and singeing the grass before him. He peered over into the dark place beneath, but turned quickly from the sight.

He would catch her. She would spend no time in that wicked place.

The clouds overhead spun, churning at an ever faster speed as a sudden rain fell upon him. Shards of ice followed, pummeling him with such force that he widened his legs to maintain his balance.

His eyes turned back to the skies, and he waited.

Then he saw her.

Her hair was a streak of gold, hurtling from the rift in the clouds straight towards the jagged hole at his feet. He braced himself against the edge, tensing his arms. The frozen rain beat on, and still he waited.

He blinked the rain from his eyes and reached for her.

The wind shifted, pushing against him when he would reach her. Her body, carried by the wind, landed in his arms with a mighty force – knocking them away from the hole and across the field.

He gasped, sucking in breath as the air fell still about him.

Ariston’s arms were heavy, full.

His hands formed against the curve of her back, clasping her softness with trembling hands. He sat forward, cradling her in his lap and pressing his face into her hair. The silken softness of her honeyed locks slipped against his cheek. Her scent tickled his nose, making him press her to him fiercely.

He was shaking, overcome.

He opened his eyes.

Her eyes were closed as she lay in his arms.

His hand moved over her face, brushing her hair – her glorious hair – back. Her cheeks were pink, her skin perfect. No scars or marks of the serpents remained.

He pulled her close again, nuzzling her neck with his nose.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, her nose and then her lips. They were soft, velvet, beneath his. And they parted, her breath mingling with his as his hold tightened upon her.

“Ariston?” Her voice filled his ears.

“I’m here,” he whispered against her lips.

She returned his kisses, eagerly. Her hands twined about his neck as she clung to him. Then she sighed, sounding pleased, and burrowed against his chest.

He pulled back, soaking in the sight of her.

Her huge blue eyes fluttered open, dismayed. She stared at him, disoriented. “Am I dreaming?” she asked as her eyes traveled over his face. She raised a hand, her delicate white hand, and placed it upon his cheek.

He shook his head.

“You feel warm and solid beneath my touch,” she murmured, caressing his mouth with her thumb.

Her brow furrowed then, and her hand fell to her hair. She tensed in his arms, turning wide eyes upon him.

“This is no dream.” His hands cupped her face gently, his words soft. “You’ve come back to me.”

Her hand lifted slowly, stroking her neck with trembling fingers. She blinked, then took his right wrist and pressed it to her chest. She kissed his wrist, her breath hitching as she asked, “Are we…” Her eyes filled with tears, but she smiled as she looked at him. “Are we in Hades’ realm?”

His hand stroked over her face again, tracing her lips. “We go to Elysium, wife. We are home.”

“Forgive me,” she murmured, her words a plea that seared his heart.

He shook his head, pressing his lips to her. “There is nothing to forgive, lady. I beg you leave it behind.”

He felt her arms slip about him as she pressed herself against him. He could not fit her close enough to him, could not stop himself from crushing her against him.

But she seemed little bothered by his unyielding hold.

“Let us stay this way,” she whispered against his throat, “until I know you are real. I cannot let you go.”

He inhaled at her temple, pressing a kiss to her brow. “I will hold you until you are done.”

She laughed, a sweet, free sound that surprised them both. “Then you will never let me go, husband.”

He laughed too, his hand cupping her cheek with tenderness. “No, wife, I will never let you go.”

Epilogue

Poseidon tore his eyes from Aphrodite. All were held captive by her tale, for her telling of Ariston and Medusa’s reunion was magical. He cursed the pull he felt upon his heart.

“She is reunited with her husband.” Hera wiped tears from her cheeks.

“She has found peace,” Aphrodite murmured. “And all are satisfied.”

“What of Hades? His mood of late is most perplexing. Is he content to lose Ariston in such a way?” Zeus asked.

Aphrodite nodded, but said nothing.

Poseidon felt less than satisfied. In fact, he felt an emptiness closing in on him.

“The Gorgons wail yet.” Apollo shook his head.

“Let them wail,” Athena spoke finally, her face ashen from Aphrodite’s tale. “I would have a satyr pipe made to mimic their cries. I can think of no better way to remind us to act with care.” She turned angry eyes upon Poseidon, speaking to him as if they were the only ones in the Council Chamber. “Mortals are fragile creatures and we must treat them as such.”

Poseidon lifted an eyebrow. Did she think to chastise him? Even now? He smiled.

“It shall be done,” Zeus agreed. “And I would place Perseus and Medusa in the stars.”

Hera’s brow arched. “Truly?”

“Is it not enough that her image is now etched onto Athena’s shield?” Ares groaned, impatience written upon his hard face.

“Must we see her in the stars as well?” Poseidon seconded Ares’ irritation.

“You sound like a jealous child,” Hera laughed.

Athena goaded, “What, Poseidon, has losing Medusa left you without sport?”

“I’ve no doubt you’ll find some poor maid to tempt your appetites soon enough,” Apollo smiled.

“Why am I blamed for all mischief?” he asked innocently.

“Because you have a hand in most,” Zeus said.

Poseidon laughed.

He glanced at Aphrodite. How she turned from him with downcast eyes. Mischief had been made already, in the gardens of Olympus. Though Hephaestus could not bed his wife, he would hardly be pleased when his wife bore Poseidon a son.

The thought brought a slow smile to his face. 

“Zeus!” Demeter burst into the Council Chamber, her face lined with tears. Never had Poseidon seen the Goddess so undone, so shaken. He rose, waiting to hear what Demeter had to say. “Persephone is gone…taken I fear.”

Zeus rose swiftly. “Taken? When?”

“She was in Sicily, collecting her flowers…white lilies.” Demeter took the hand Hera offered, her voice shaking with fear. “And then she was gone… I was not with her, but the nymphs told me they heard her scream.”

Zeus’ brow furrowed, a dangerous sign, Poseidon knew.

“Apollo,” Zeus said quickly, “Hermes, find her.”

The women crowded about Demeter, offering words of comfort.

Poseidon stood, offering, “I will search as well.”

But Zeus was distracted, lost in thought.

“Brother, I will …”

Zeus shook his head stiffly. “Leave matters be,” he whispered.

Poseidon turned a questioning gaze upon his brother.

“Fair Persephone will return to us, in time,” Zeus said, turning from the women and leading Poseidon from the Council Chamber.

“You know where she is then?”

Zeus smiled, shrugging. “Perhaps Aphrodite will have another tale to spin before the moon is full. We shall see, brother, we shall see.”

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Angelyn Schmid, Sandy Williams, Carolyn Williamson, Deidra Alexander, Suzanne Collins and Allison Burke-Collins (aka Shakers) for your tireless support, zeal with a red pen, and ability to talk me out of giving up. Thanks to D.A.R.A. for turning dreamers into writers. Gretchen Craig, your input was invaluable. To Donna O’Brien for loving my novel, Candice Lindstrom for making my book the best it could be and Crescent Moon Press for giving my stories the chance to be discovered.

Very special thanks to Summer, Emma, Jakob and Kaleb for nurturing my imagination and stories every single day. Your patience and love means more to me than you can ever know.

Sasha Summers

Sasha is part gypsy. Her passions have always been storytelling, history, and travel. It's no surprise that her books visit times past, set in places rich with legends and myth. Her first play, 'Greek Gods and Goddesses' (original title, right?), was written for her Girl Scout troupe. She's been writing ever since. She loves getting lost in the worlds and characters she creates, even if she frequently forgets to run the dishwasher or wash socks when she's doing so. Luckily, her four brilliant children and hero-inspiring hubby are super understanding and supportive.

Glossary Terms & Reference Index

Anestheria
– a Greek Festival celebrating Dionysus. In the book, aspects were modified to help the storyline.

Arrephoroi
– young girls (7-11 yrs) selected to serve as acolytes in the temples.

Aspis
– circular shield carried by infantryman. Weighing 17-30lbs and one meter across, this shield could protect a soldier from chin to knee. It was typically made from wood and covered in metal/bronze. Held by a handle in its center, the shields could be placed together in an overlapping scale-like pattern (a phalanx) to hold off attackers.

Athena Polias, the Temple of
– Athena’s temple on Acropolis that preceded the Parthenon.

Basileus
– leader of chieftain of a family, the head of the household

Chiton
– men’s tunic of lightweight fabric

Chlamys
– a short cloak, worn by men and women, made from one seamless piece of material

Doru
– a spear, 7-9 feet long, used by the Greek infantrymen

Ekdromos
/
Ekdromoi
– skilled infantrymen used for special missions or close combat

Epiblema
– a woman’s shawl

Hedna
– gifts given to a girl’s family by her suitor or betrothed

Himation
– thick cloak. Large enough to be used as a blanket or folded into a pillow