Capítulo 10: Adamas
Chapter 10: Adamas
13 September 2000
The sun glared harshly enough to be felt even under the wide straw hat I was wearing and flashed my eyes even when hidden under my sunglasses. Not that I ever faced the sun, these days, but its reflection on the sea was enough to transmit the dislike of Apollo. Since our return, I had taken to spend some time among the other demigods, looking for who I'd want on my mission to recover the Golden Fleece. I already had a vague outline of who I'd want to cover this or that role, but that was a hazy approximation of a plan. I didn't have plot armor, that meant that death was a quite real possibility, and as such I wanted capable people to sail with me. More than that, I wanted people sure of themselves, I couldn't waste time to check over their insecurities while we were all risking our lives. Since my meeting with Hekate, I had managed to find out the names of who I wanted with me, setting up opportune roles and a rough chain of command. Sadly, I needed one satyr to come with me.
"Yes, hitting the Oracle wasn't the wisest thing you could do." a familiar voice interrupted my considerations.
I turned to my left, leaving the light breeze to carry saltwater over me with the next wave. I chose to not answer to what was clearly an attempt to get a rise out of me, returning to look at the sea. Even if Dionysus was much better than what he looked like the first time we met, he was a far cry from being beautiful, and so the sight of the waves was a far more soothing sight. "Prophecies are either true, and so they happen in any case, or they are false, and useless in the first place." I shrugged, it was a good justification in my head, it even sounded like it made sense.
"Spare me your false reasoning, we both know that you did it because you could. Nothing more, nothing less." the plump god snorted, a can of diet coke appearing in his hand.
"Are you going to admonish me? Two months after the fact?" I snorted in turn, rummaging into my ice-filled sack and picking out a bottle of beer, just to spite the god.
Dionysus laughed: "Ha! Absolutely not! You managed to get away with a major offense while we Olympians were busy questioning Chiron about the recent events! And only because the sun was already down, had you tried your stunt during the day, Camp or not Camp you would have been burned to a crisp." the good took a deep gulp from the coke, while I got around to uncork mine, "And nobody has ever dared to hit the Oracle! After taunting it with a treath too! As soon as its patron had been informed by his twin about the events, I laughed so hard I cried!"
He gestured wildly, tossing away his empty can that dissolved itself in motes of blue light: "And you managed to avoid arrows from the Lieutenant of the Hunt, while bitchslapping around respect and reverence with stories so old we all had forgotten! The god of war was almost dancing a jig, while the blond bimbo was gushing about your just rage caused by the Fates meddling with my mortal sister's love! Ahahahah! Oh, the face of the Queen, she was conflicted between her dislike of the twins and her spite of you! This has been the most interesting meeting since the one of the Winter Solstice in 1773, when we discussed the Boston Tea Party!"
I looked back at the god, finding his amusement contagious, and, remembering I had an open beer in my hand, I tilted it in order to spill it on the ground: "For Dionysus." I intoned briefly.
Before the liquid could touch the sand, a purple fire blossomed over the ground, greedily drinking the alcoholic beverage.
I then brought the bottle to my lips a drank a bit, looking sideways at the relaxed expression on the god's face.
Choosing that there wouldn't be a better moment to ask, I opened my mouth and spoke: "At the Camp, is there a satyr with searcher's license to look for Pan? Someone not stuck up?"
Dionysus turned towards me, and I removed my sunglasses, staring back into his violet eyes: "I'm guessing you want one for your unsanctioned quest."
I shook my head: "Not a quest, it's not done for the gods, but for Thalia. Looking for something that can help her will bring us here and there, a satyr could use a group of demigods as an escort while looking around. And if he succeeds, we'll might gain help from Pan himself." I explained, "It's a win for everyone."
The god of ritual madness rose a single eyebrow in my direction, clearly not believing my words for a single instant, but he shrugged nonetheless: "I'll send you someone, Icarus."
I nodded and started to leave the beach when he called me back: "Your name has changed. It's subtle, but not something those who are familiar with you will miss."
I stared back unblinkingly, I wasn't going to talk about the events that led me to that change, it was personal. Dionysus didn't look bothered by my reticence and dismissed me with a gesture of his hands along with suitably foreboding words: "Be careful to not rise too high too fast, we wouldn't want a repeat of your predecessor's feat, would we?"
That night I left my hut and went back to the common grounds of the camp, Mist cloaking me from whatever was in charge of enforcing the curfew. Luckily enough, the full moon spared me the need of using a flashlight to go around.
I took a spear from a rack, preferring it to the sword, and twirled thoughtfully between my hands. I was still looking for a way to use the branch from the golden apple tree, I frankly needed a superweapon. Something like Thalia's spear, or Anaklusmos. With some magic to it. Objectively, it needed to be something that could help me both with the sea and with magic itself. I didn't want to stunt my growth in one direction or another oy because I was hasty into building the weapon. Frankly, something a là Whitebeard from one piece sounded cool, but pragmatism held me back.
I sighed: "Going around with it would be unwise anyway." For the time being, it was better to avoid Hera in any possible way.
When I turned once more on my self, simulating an upside swing while holding the bottom of the spear, greatly enhancing my reach, I froze: sitting on one of the benches on one side of the arena, there was a little girl. A silvery chiton that seemed woven from moonlight and water, auburn-hair, and a silver bow held gracefully in her lap. She clearly didn't need an introduction, also because she managed to arrive and sit down less than twenty meters from me without stumbling into the Mist.
I stared at her, inside of the Camp, gods could not directly act on demigods, I was sure of it. Appearances and chats were possible, even if barely tolerated by Zeus, threatening me looked like a big yes on the King's book.
I stared unblinkingly into her eyes, the 20 meters between us somehow insufficient to make such a thing impossible, and remained quiet, only quirking an eyebrow. She had been the one to initiate the contact, she would need to start the conversation. I refused to greet her or to show anything but diffidence: I owed her nothing, and frankly, anything that kept girls from becoming lustful women was on my bad side. It was the principle of the thing. The exaltation of maidens' purity was a must in every society, after all harlots and sluts needed to be shamed in order to exalt the righteousness of marriage: it was the cornerstone for a family, which was the basis of a clan, upon that was built a population larhe enough to count as people. With it came the concept of nation.
Historically speaking, every human society had a single man-woman couple as its starting point. Such a cornerstone couldn't exist while extramarital sex was considered acceptable for everyone.
The important thing, at the end of the day, was that authority of some sort was needed to legitimize a couple, because said authority would then act in what appeared to be the benefit of said couple while husband and wife recognized the necessity of said authority, perpetuating the idea to the offspring.
"You assaulted my Lieutenant." the crystalline voice of the goddess stopped my pondering human nature and brought me back to the present.
"I defended myself. She shot me twice before I even touched her." I answered without lying.
Artemis rose from her seat, the bow held in her hand with the bare minimum strength required for not letting it fall: "You assaulted my brother's Oracle. A gift to mortals so that they can prepare better to weather the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune."
Hamlet, really? I blinked: "Fortune-telling didn't help Macbeth." I tilted my head, following her lead on Shakespeare, before returning on more familiar ground: "Nor did Thetis' words help Achilles, or the Oracle' ones save Thalia. It's clear to me that whatever you think oracles and prophecies are, they do not help my fellow mortals."
I rolled my shoulders and kept practicing, ignoring the goddess. Ares, Aphrodite, and Dionysus didn't dislike me, at least from what the latter's words on the last Council had been; to compensate, Apollo and Artemis, along with Hera, actively disliked me. But... Hera disliked everyone. So it was a non-issue, and it wasn't like I could do something to appease the other two. Not that I felt like it.
Artemis didn't react to my disrespect, but I realized it wasn't... safe. She had the calm of the hunter stalking his prey, and I didn't appreciate being on the receiving end of her gaze. How to redirect what I feel is going to be a metamorphosis followed by a merciless hunt? It wouldn't happen now, but having her stalking me once I left the camp was... kind of scary.
I made a show of looking at the sky, easily finding the Ursa constellation: "What do you want, Huntress?" I asked to buy time. She didn't answer, walking closer, her feet not making a sound when they touched the ground.
She came less than a meter from me, and even if she was in a body barely 4 and a half feet tall, it felt like the Moon was about to fall on me, an arrow about to slid between my ribs to find my heart. I am free.
I blinked, and the intimidation the goddess tried to wield upon me was shredded and dispersed with the same ease a bullet would tear through a spiderweb. I refrained from snorting, I was aware that whatever confrontation I chose to push right now would end up badly.
So I redirected: "Have you heard of Pan recently?"
She took a step back, her attention splitting between me and the subject of my question: "An unusual question to make, in an even unusual situation."
She walked around me, her eyes analyzing the signs left on the sandy ground without needing her input: "I met a fox once, extremely cunning, he knew he wasn't the predator, and he knew he couldn't scare me away. So he ran, in larger and larger circles, before pretending to be dead once he crossed the trail of a pack of wolves."
"Sounds like the Teumessian Fox." I said as an avenue of conversation.
Artemis took a step back, as the surprise hit her almost like a physical blow: "The Canis Minor does shine upon you. Be careful, mortal, find Pan, and I won't hunt you."
She turned like she was about to run away in the night when my words stopped her: "You don't feel it? The Reef will die in less than 20 years, primeval forests are getting smaller and smaller, unexplored caves are being mapped, every peak has been flagged, every valley walked, roads and rails will grow like cancer over the vast Eastern plains, beasts and plants are going extinct in droves. If Pan wanted to be found, or was around to be found, he would have already been."
The goddess's eyes flashed silver: "I will not oppose your Travel, but only if you look for Pan. If you find him, I won't hunt you for touching my Lieutenant."
While she almost presented it as a bargain, it was clear that it wasn't, not really. I guess that consequences come with being free and the choices it entails. I sighed, my very complex and self-imposed mission had just turned more difficult.
17 September 2000
Like I did only twice before, I sat at the hearth, staring not at the almost cold-but-never-dead-embers, but at the little girl intent to taking care of them. "So..." I trailed "Have you heard?"
Hestia rose an unimpressed eyebrow, and I grinned sheepishly: "Right, you hear everything. Your thoughts about my recent exploits?"
"I knew Dedalus, like I've always known and will always know every familial love. He loved Icarus, and was loved back. But the son felt like he was a candle born from the sun, and when he found he could fly higher than his father, he kept going until he fell, to show Dedalus that he was worthy of being his son." She poked at the embers with a stick covered in soot.
I watched as her hand buried herself into the hearth and came out with a blazing ember clutched in it: "You are bringing with you an important part of the Family, place a brazier in the galley, and use this ember to light it up."
I looked at her with surprise on my features: "A fire on a boat made of wood? That's a bad..." I stopped when I noticed that there was no smoke rising from the glowing ember, and looked up to find Hestia's smirk while she placed it slowly in my palm and delicately closed my fingers over it, it was warm, but not overly so, it was like a gentle caress or a hug. I sighed, of all the gods, Hestia was the less malicious one, and given the vibe of the ember, the one I was more willing to listen. So, with the ember in my hand, I walked back to my hut, where I packed my stuff as neatly as I could and dismantled my brazier. The kitchen on board of the ship had carefully avoided a gas flame, David wisely ordering the cookers to be electrical, so we weren't equipped wiyh free fire risking to kill us all.
Three hours later, I left my hut and walked back to the camp, the belongings I chose to bring with me were in a sack slung over my shoulder, with my bronze brazier clattering loudly behind me in the leather harness I had put together.
Once I reached the docking we had built only to be able to set off with our ship, I took a moment to admire it. It was made out of wood we lumbered from the forest we trained in. Everything had been hand made, from the shelves to the masts, from the engines, to the oars. The circuits had been bought, clearly, but the machinery in itself had been hardwired by Aephestus' kids. I looked at the sturdy but sleek vessel, the two masts held black sails, which were fucking cool, the bronze lined portholes shined brightly under the morning sun. The figurehead was a grinning fox exquisitely crafted, and while the name Argo II sounded unoriginal to me, I couldn't exactly oppose it publicly without telling everyone that it was dumb, calling on me further negative attention from Olympus.
I climbed up to the side of the ship after having hurled up the brazier and my sack, Hestia's ember still held in my hand, its warmth was soothing. Hydroponics cultures were set up under the glass portion of the deck, we didn't know how long we would stay away after all, while solar panels were set up everywhere we could, a collaboration between David and his beloved, which coincidentally was a daughter of Apollo.
Less than an hour later, a sack landed on the deck, signalling that my crew had started to gather. Soon we would depart.
An hour later, I called name after name, checking for freeloaders or fuckers of any kind: "David, son of Aephestus."
When the man came forward from the small crowd on the deck, I nodded appreciatively: "He's head engineer and First Mate, if I'm not around, you'll answer to him."
When he disappeared inside the hull, I continued: "Jillian, daughter of Atena, she's the second mate, third in the chain of command." I winked at the blond girl with a serious expression, while my eyes ran over her form without my input.
"Hailey, daugher of Hermes: third mate." I stated clearly, and a seventeen yers old girl came forward, she was on the petite side, and a sneaky one, but trustworthy nonetheless.
So I went on calling the members of yhe crew,assigning roles so that everyone knew that the others weren't left without stuff to do. A single daugher of Aphrodite named Evelyn was followed by three people from Ares' Cabin: Eric, Emily and Charlotte. Abigail was instead our Head Healer, from the cabin of Apollo, along with her sister Sofia who was going to take turns with her in the infirmary.
I chose to bring two daughters of Apollo not only for the healing role, which was important, but also because the last time someone disrespected the God of the Golden Charriot, it was when the Greeks pillaged and burned his temple during Troy's war, and he had reacted with the Black Death. Since I was about to leave the Camp after having kicked his Oracle, I wanted someone on board that would make the prideful god stop from simply burning us to crisps.
Madison was a daughter of Aephestus, another engineer of sorts, while Hannah, daughter of Demeter, was in charge of the Hydroponics. Julia was a daughter of Athena, who shared her sister's grey eyes and blond hair, even if her features were somewhat more delicate. Alexandra and Helena were two daughters of Dionysus, and I chose them mostly because I had come to appreciate how temporary madness could give you an edge to survive a sticky situation. And given the male/female ratio, I frankly hoped in a big ass orgy at some point during the mission, after all, I was the youngest among them.
"Charles, called Chars unless you want him to punt you into the ground, will be our resident satyr, you never know ehen an experienced child of the Wild can be life-saving." With our last addiction, I finished the crew call, and we unfurled our black sails trimmed with yellow bands, while six people on each side of the ship started rowing.
As soon as we were at safe distance from the beach, I talked again: "Each of us is a powerful demigod in his own right, more than that, each one of us is a demigod tired of playing around at the Camp without any purpose beyond the one of delighting the gods with our deaths. Power without direction is inert, and living as your common mortal isn't something that appeals any of us."
To the general consent, I spoke on: "So I could tell you the list of several possible objectives that I have set for us. But we all onow that you are here to exercise that power. So you don't really care what we'll be aiming for as much as actually doing the deed." I knew each one of them, some didn't volunteer, and I had to talk with them to make them recognize their own wishes, but it had been a hassle worthy of my effort.
We reached the end of the bay and steered us south, catching a costsnt wind on our backs and ordering the crew to retire the oars: "So relax while you can, because you'll need every scrap of power you can muster!"
We were running south, to the Bermuda Triangle: to us, it was the Sea of Monsters, and it was going to be fun.
21 October 2000
While the weather was impossibly warm and sloth-inducing, the sea was uncharacteristically calm, the waves barely perceptible, the wind had died down since the previous night, and, given our position in perspective with the stars, the sea itself seemed to have no currents whatsoever. So, after a day that we spent looking at each other in the eyes without doing a thing, I had quite enough. Stealing one last glance at the two girls sunbathing naked at the end of the deck and considering the setting sun and the already visible stars, I sighed and forced myself to do what was necessary.
"OKAY MAGGOTS! AT THE OARS, I'VE BEEN FRIENDLY MORE THAN ENOUGH, MOVE YOUR SORRY ASSES MOTHERFUCKERS, AND IF YOUR PARENTS EVER LOVED YOU, THERE BETTER BE SOME MYSTICAL MUMBO JUMBO GOING AROUND, BECAUSE OTHERWISE I'LL SACRIFICE THE SLOWER OF YOU TO POSEIDON! MARK MY WORDS! AND IF YOU THINK OR HOPE THAT BEING SHAGGED BY ME GRANTS YOU A PASS, WELL, THINK AGAIN! I DO NOT DISCRIMINATE! ON THIS SHIP YOU ARE ALL EQUALS, AND THAT MEANS THAT YOU ARE ALL WORTHLESS! PUT YOUR BACKS IN IT NUMBSKULLS! SATYR! CLEAN YOUR NOSE WITH COCAINE AND AMBROSIA IF YOU NEED, BUT GIVE ME A DIRECTION! MOVE MOVE MOVE!" Having said my piece and having called the demigods back to order, I turned the helm, pointing us west.
"Why are we going west?" Jillian stopped beside me, a binocular pointing towards the horizon.
"Because magic feels denser in that direction, it's almost like seeing a conglomeration of Mist. Then, as a veteran of a quest that involved Ladon, I can testify that 'When in doubt, look for trouble' is a viable strategy. And it is a good direction as any." I answered with a sly smile.
"So we're hoping to be lucky." she summed up, causing my grin to widen.
"Icarus, why we never use the engines?" a male voice asked, approaching from behind me.
"First: because they are for when we need to hightail the fuck out of Scilla and Cariddi." I answered honestly.
"What?" David deadpanned.
"Reason two, the crew needs to listen to the captain, so that when we cross the sirens they'll do as I say and not mutiny." I answered to my First Mate and Chief Engineer.
At his widened eyes, I went on: "Second: because having sex with me isn't a ticket to a paid vacation, Helena and Alexandra need to learn that."
At that, he visibly contained a snort, before nodding thoughtfully.
"Third: Training." I looked ahead, taking notice of our position. I knew, intellectually, that the Pleyads were hot blue and luminous stars that had formed within the last 100 million years, but since my escapade in the garden of the Hesperids, which was also the starting point of the whole 'find the golden fleece' problem, I felt like I could understand and feel more. And since then, the sky had felt more alive and aware, if it was because I had held it or because I spent time getting attuned to ( read: shagging) the nymphs of the sunset, I didn't know. Maybe it was a mixture of the two. Why would the sunset be relevant? Because it was the celestial event that came before the night. And Nyx, in the Greek mythology, was not only the 'Night' but the unfathomable, the mysteries which were beyond human understanding, the heritage of a time where the night was dark and full of terrors, of a time when humans had barely tamed fire, and used it to keep themselves safe from both a harsh environment and feral beasts.
"Are you sure you didn't simply want to give your twist to Hartman?" David interrupted my musings.
"That was the fourth reason." I deadpanned, earning myself a laugh.
KRABOOOM The thunder rattled my bones.
I took out a little telescope and I berated myself for getting distracted from the sunbathing girls, but hey, apparently they had 'forgotten' their swimsuits. Maybe the wild sex without strings attached had been a theme for the choice of the two Dionysus's daughters, but no more than the eye-candy component had been for the female part of the crew, sure, it had been a secondary trait I had looked for, but an important one nonetheless. What is the point of organizing your own expedition if you can't have fun while on it? I shook my head, freeing myself from the distracting images: a fucking storm was in full swing ahead: "Storm incoming on our route! Brace yourselves!" I ordered from my position. And in less than fifteen minutes, we were in full swing of the worst storm the seas had ever seen.
Argo II climbed out of a crashing wave, and in the almost absolute darkness caused by the thick clouds, I saw the waves too close, too tall, too angry. I howled in laughter, almost maniacally, unzipping my raincoat and letting it flap wildly behind me: if the storm wasn't natural, it was the creation of some god. Likely the one who held the title of Stormbringer. So I reached out, feeling my hands on the helm and my feet in my flooded boots. I felt the wind hammering on my face and the rain pelting both me and the ship. And when the next gale came, accompanied by the most titanic wave I had yet seen, I pushed back. I didn't quite tame the storm, not even remotely, but the ship slightly shifted his position, the head pointing straight at the incoming wall of water. We climbed.
We were slower that I would have liked, and once more I despised the name given to the ship, inappropriately as it was at the time.
Never before had I wished so much for the land, to feel the sweet brown soils under my feet. Sand, even rocks. For the first time, I felt the rage within the sea, as if not only the ocean, but the sky too suddenly had chosen to pound the puny humans who dared defy it into nothingness. Not to teach us a lesson, oh no, whatever we could learn from the demonstration of rage the world was providing us with would be on our shoulders. The sky had turned pitch black, swallowed by the endless clouds, a constant gale howling under dark and serious clouds. Yet, the ship had kept going over the watery fists, that perhaps were willed into existence with the intention of causing enough bruising for the sailors to remember the sea's anger, enough for them to start a sweet serenade of sorrow. I suspected that Poseidon would be opposed to us saving Thalia, after all, Zeus had no problems with throeing bolts at Percy's car when he was running back to camp, and Hades was always ready to unleash hell upon the children of his two brothers. The horde that forced me to leave my first home is proof enough. I thought sardonically while I held on the helm for dear life. I spat a mouthful of saltwater: "This is getting ridiculous."
But the sea didn't care about casualties, didn't care about who held which title among men. Demigod, sailor, captain, bodyguard, and slave: it didn't matter. All would be swallowed by the waves. We were mentally ready for sudden, violent storms that targeted our ship specifically, even if we knew it would not be natural, it was the nature of the half-metaphysical bullshit we were sailing through. With no warning, total darkness had prevailed as clouds thickened and the sky was stricken, blotting out the moonlight and stars. The wind had arisen to push the once still waters to choppy, which morphed into mountains of angry waves. The demigods had struggled to get the sails down and to tie them in place. They slipped on the rain-soaked deck. Godly blood or not, people were starting to panic. Not I, oh no, I was using my limited influence over the sea to keep us going, and a twist on the Mist to try and soothe the fear of my crew. The wind slammed the rain into our faces like tiny stones and pushed our raincoats' hoods back. The ship ran, first up waves at forty-five degrees, and then crashed down jarring our bones. At one point the waves spun the vessel sideways. We held tightly onto the mast, onto ropes, onto each other, onto anything.
Eric, son of Ares, was an athletic and determined eighteen years old demigod, instead of the bulky build of many of his brothers and sisters, he was short and lean, surprisingly agile, and had a brain between his ears. When the time came to hold down a secondary sail, he flung himself down, wrestling it to the deck, where others managed to tie it. He had barely the time for a shout of defiance to the world, when a wave climbed on the deck and swiped him away, like it was a simple parlor trick. So he fell, to hubris, to a moment of carelessness and to the world's worst storm that I had ever seen.
The waves had grown so large that the vessel was dwarfed, riding up and down the mighty swelling sea like a child's toy. There was no mercy in the wind, no grace in the waves, only wrath, and tempest. The air was thick with a briny mist, the deck awash with salty waves. As the waves rocked the ship almost to a tipping point, everything I was, have been, or ever will be, was concentrated into that tiny string of moments, as if that was the moment in which I was truly born. The wind was strong enough to pick up a man and fling him to the hungry waves, we were forced to take turns on the deck, tying us to the mast with ropes long enough to allow us to move around. Every sense was maxed out, every muscle already working beyond normal capacity and still, there was no end in sight.
There wasn't any more desolate feeling than the mighty swelling of the ocean beneath one's feet and nothing on the horizon but more of the same. In every direction, there was only grey blue black tempest, laced with white, blends into a horizon of the same hue. There is no rescue from land, sea, or air and all anyone could do was give until they are spent.
I narrowed my eyes against the harsh gales: the second mast must have broken during one of the most recent waves and almost fell on someone. Thank you for the battle-ready reflexes. Soon another wave climbed its way on the deck and cleaned it. On a few occasions, I had hoped that my life was nothing more than a dream turned nightmare, and more than ever I would give anything to wake up, for the storm to be just a recreation of my synapses, another lesson from my subconscious. But there was no waking up from the nightmare. I could taste the salty air, sharp on my skin, feel the harsh and cold bite of the wind, my heart pumping so furiously that I felt it in my throat. Should I see tomorrow, it will be with a new nightmare... I realized, along with the fact that while I had been able to breathe underwater and control the currents into the bay near the Camp, falling out of the ship would mean drowning even for me. It was in the heaviness of the water, in the dampness that I felt on my skin, in the opposition my will was facing while steering the ship.
But there was nothing of Greeks Myths and Magic around us, none of the shining examples of heroism that could carry the world through the apocalypse. Only gray and cold. We are too slow...
I hurled back my raincoat's hood with a pensive expression and eyed the ax embedded into the deck, it was still were John had tossed it to cut the sails free in order to avoid the wind dragging the ship for another tango. I watched again the fewer and fewer people on the ship, the hungry sea was enjoying its banquet, slowly eating its way through the crew. It was like it didn't want to immediately sink the ship, preferring to enjoy its meal. Maybe they are only exhausted in the galley, getting a pick up with ambrosia and nectar. I calmed myself.
Another thunder rattled my bones, shaking me from my reverie. "What the fuck is up with this storm? It looks alive..."
Then I stopped myself. It could very well be... that the sea, or better, that storm, was alive, hungry and sadistic. It would explain why the waves simply hadn't swallowed us. The promise I had made myself resounded into my mind. I am free. And like the thunder around the ship managed to rattle our bones and shake our resolve, the deceptively simple three words gave me strength, resonating too true to be ignored. I won't bow to this storm.
And suddenly the choice was very simple. When my tired eyes recognized a yellow raincoat moving around me, I spoke, my words thundering loud enough to be heard: "Hold the helm!" and I dropped off my position, running on the soaked deck until I grabbed the handle of the simple bearded-ax, unhinging it from the wood. Then I ran, cutting with decisive swings the ropes holding captive the sails, which unfurled faster than my eyes could follow them through the rain, the wind almost lifting the ship from the waters. A hand clamped on my shoulder once I made my way towards the helm: "What have you done! The ship will be torn apart, we need to cut away the sails!"
"If we don't ride this storm out, the sea is going to swallow us one after another!" my reply was swift and uncaring, I was the fucking captain, the ship and the crew would heel to my will. And I was unbowed: "Trust in the keel!" I shouted, a manic laugh slipping once more through my lips.
And ride the storm we did. I howled, challenging the waters, the sky, the lightning, the wood of the helm bit deep into my hands, trying to escape control. I wouldn't let it.
I was leading us on the edge of a razor. One misstep was all that was needed for everyone to die.
I was terrified and exalted.
There was no help, no safety net. The option of dropping everything and catching a cab to return to the Camp wasn't there, the small escape rope I had during the quest in Hera's garden was absent, and I felt much more alive because of it.
I was alone, keeping everyone focused on their task while holding onto the helm for dear life.
The lights we set up barely managed to shine through the downpour, seeing the incoming waves was out of the picture, but at least there was a faint white line that followed the bulwark avoided people unknowingly walking in the hungry waves. I pushed and pulled, steering the boat along the raging waters and sneaking out of the avalanches of sea foam that threatened to swallow us whole. Time lost any meaning, as well as direction, there was only the need of riding the waves.
I grabbed the helm, and pulled, carefully balancing between where I wanted to go and where the sea was bringing me, rocketing down the side of the veritable mountain of water that had just tried to crush us. I led us to ride the winds, the keel cutting the water almost without offering resistance.
I ignored hunger when it came.
I endured the strain of the muscles.
I refused to give in to the killing headache that hammered me every time I closed my eyes.
I was too out of breath to howl my challenging laughter, but I kept grinning like a loon. I drank rain and seawater, washing it down with the nectar I had in my canteen. Finally, like leaving an obscure cave, the ship left the roof made of black clouds, my ears still ringing from the incessant hammering of the thunders. With a start, I recognized that a part of the ringing in my ears was instead a belly laugh, and only after all the others left the galley and looked at me like I was gone off the deep end I realized that I was the one laughing my challenge to sea and sky alike. I am free.
And with that realization, I noticed that the sun was climbing up from the East: we drifted on the high of having survived the equivalent of a hurricane in the open sea for several hours before I spotted a single bird descending from the sky. Nobody really noticed, busy as everyone was with either repairs or rest, but I steered us in that direction. Maybe half an hour later, I recognized a spot on the horizon, and led us there unerringly, Ignoring the calls for 'Land-ho!' when they came.
The island was relatively small, just a small amass of woods that signaled the existence of a source of water, but what grabbed my attention was the wailing. It was a desperate sound, the cry of the hopeless, in a rhythm that suggested an almost intermittent pain. We still needed rest, so the ship climbed its way up the sandy beach, and everyone settled down to rest on my orders: "Let's set up a camp and a perimeter, then we can rest. When we gain back some of our strength we'll think about what we can salvage from the island to boosts our reserves, repair the ship, and whatnot."
I landed on the sand with a soft thump accompanied that several other people and walked around the head of the ship, where the violent storm had managed to scratch away the name Argo II. "You are no Argo," I said, remembering the moments during the storm when I wished the ship to sail faster than it did, but in my mind flashed the monumental stress it endured, the blows it survived, the will it defeated: "I dub thee Adámas, unconquerable, invincible. And may you lend your name to the members of the crew."
In the general mutterings of approval, everyone got to work, setting up the tents.
"Chars," I said quietly, causing the satyr to come over to me: "Feel anything?"
I shrugged, looking around and scratching lightly at his still damp beard: "Whatever this wailing is coming from, it has nothing to do with Pan."
"Dead count?" I asked, drearing the answer.
"Eric, son of Ares, and Julia, daughter of Athena." he reported with a frown.
"I saw Eric being swept off the deck." I grimaced: "Julia?"
The satyr looked like he was around forty years old, the prominent belly didn't manage to make you ignore the rippling muscles of his arms or his pecs, while the wide shoulders looked loke they could hold back the tide. Even so, when I asked, he visibly sagged, shaking his head. I gritted my teeth: "Organize what rites you can, but without bodies... we'll wait on the island for a couple of days, msybe they will end up on the shore."
Once I said my piece, I left, the annoying guilt that tried to climb on me when Thalia became a tree tried again to ensnare me. I picked up a spear from the hull and went into the woods, killing my lunch could help me with deal with my simmering rage.
I crept through the undergrowth, getting closer to the origin of the wailing: a wounded animal could mean a predator was around, so in the best situation, I would find an animal ready to be killed, in the worse case, I could burn through some of my anger at having lost two people already. Soon enough, I found myself going uphill, the terraing becoming rocky and lifeless, the trees disappearing one after another. I walked around what was an actual promontory and climbed a relatively low cliff. Once I reached the top, I found a small plateau that surrounded a jagged rock as big as my hut back at the Camp. What was more interesting however, was the man chained to it, and the eagle intent in ripping out his liver.
"I thought you had been freed by Heracles." I blurted out without thinking.
Prometheus gritted his teeth to ignore the pain before grimacing in my direction: "No longer, as you can see."
Status de energia semanal
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