“Yes, well,” said Dolos. “That old sheep fur is said to grant prosperity and unnaturally long life. Pelias has promised a hefty amount of gold to anyone who helps Jason retrieve it.”
“So, Pelias fancies himself a god,” said Hylas.
“Don’t all kings?” There was a bitter edge to Heracles’s voice.
For a few moments no one spoke.
“How long will it take to get there?” asked Danae.
“Three days, I’d say,” said Telamon through a mouthful of bread. “Two if we push the horses.”
“The sooner the better,” said Atalanta. “Don’t want them leaving without us.”
“They’ll wait for me.” Heracles got to his feet. “We should get some rest. Whose turn is it to keep the first watch?”
“I’ll do it.” Danae was eager to make a good impression.
Heracles gazed at her, his eyes lingering on her face as though she were an intricate mural. Then he nodded and said, “The seer’s proving her worth already.”
Heat prickled her cheeks. She fought the urge to grin.
“Atalanta, relieve Daeira after a couple of hours.”
Danae caught Atalanta smirking at Telamon, and her smile faded. She had the unsettling feeling she was going to wake up to a knife in her face.
“Don’t mind Atalanta,” whispered Hylas. “When I first joined the group she kept threatening to gut me in my sleep.”
“When did she stop?”
“She still does it on occasion.”
“Great,” muttered Danae.
“She’s all right once you get to know her. She could have turned out a lot worse, given she was raised by wolves.” Danae’s eyes widened. Hylas smiled. “Only until she was six, then a group of hunters took her in.” He glanced at the warrior. “Most loyal person I know. Sleep well, Daeira.”
She watched him walk over to their horse, wishing he was the one relieving her watch.
The rest of the group made makeshift beds against the stones with blankets from their saddle packs. They all kept their weapons close. Atalanta slept with her quiver in one hand, her bow in the other. Heracles set himself up away from the rest of them, behind the trees where the horses were tethered. Dolos watched him go, then took his healer’s pack and followed him.
Cocooned in her cloak, Danae sat with her back to one of the stone slabs, looking out across the sea. She waited until Telamon was snoring and the others’ breathing had calmed, then delved into her bag and drew out the prophecy stone.
She felt its pull before she’d finished unwrapping it. Its jagged edges shone so brightly it looked as though it was made of hardened moonlight.
She took a breath, then touched it.
21
Unseen Enemies
On Naxos, Danae had once gone swimming in an inland lake. Afterward, her mother had to prize over a dozen leeches off her body. She’d felt every single one of their little mouths sucking her blood. The sensation she experienced now, as she touched the prophecy stone, was similar. But instead of her blood it was like the stone was drawing out her very life force, and she could suddenly see threads of glowing light rushing from her fingers into the obsidian rock. She tried to pull her hand away, but she couldn’t let go.
It was the same sensation she’d had when she touched the oracle in Delphi. Her vision blurred, and she felt as though she was falling into darkness. Then she was suspended once more outside her body in the empty void, but this time there was no shining thread to grasp onto, no tapestry of life to weave a vision. Just nothingness. Panic swallowed her whole. All the while she could feel herself weakening, as if the stone was draining her life force. It felt as though it was going to suck her dry until there was nothing left.
With a great effort she managed to wrench her fingers from the rock. It fell to the ground and rolled between her feet. Her skin covered in cold sweat, she turned to the side and vomited.
When she looked up, Atalanta was awake and staring at her.
For a heartbeat she was transfixed, like a mouse caught in thrall to a falcon. Then she forced her gaze downward and hastily wiped her mouth. She steeled herself for an onslaught of questions or the sting of a blade at her throat, but when she looked back, the warrior’s dark eyes were scanning the land beyond their encampment, an arrow notched in her bow.
