‘Oh gods,’ breathed Danae.
The manticore landed before them, its claws scraping across the rocks, spittle dangling from its jaw.
‘Use your power,’ hissed Telamon between his teeth.
‘I can’t, remember?’ Danae called back.
The creature’s eyes narrowed. Then it leapt forward, chomping Charon’s staff between its jaws. The wood splintered, the crystal orb rolling away down the passage.
They clung to the tunnel walls as the manticore sprung at them, its claws screeching on the rock as they sprinted doggedly after the glowing end of Charon’s staff. Danae’sbruised ribs screamed in protest as she sucked in breath, forcing her body to move faster and faster. The stone passage shook beneath their feet as the manticore pursued them; every moment Danae expected the sudden agony of claws scraping down her back.
Then suddenly it stopped. There was no pounding of claws on the rock, no rancid breath billowing behind them. Nothing.
The four slowed, huddling together as they panted.
‘Where did it go?’ asked Telamon.
Danae grabbed the light crystal from where it had rolled into a nearby crevice. Holding it aloft, she took a step towards the darkness.
Like a lion springing from long grass, the manticore lurched from around the bend, its dark wings beating the stagnant air. There was nowhere to go. Danae flung her arms over her head, the crystal clattering at her feet.
But the death blow did not come.
She looked up to see a streak of white crash into the manticore, knocking it into the tunnel wall.
‘Hylas!’ Danae shouted, as the winged horse bore down on the creature, pummelling the beast with its hooves. A broken rope tether dangled from one of its forelegs.
In a heartbeat, Atalanta had drawn her bow and was sending arrows into the soft flesh beneath the manticore’s jaw. Then Telamon ran forward, launched himself onto its back and buried his sword in its skull. He twisted the blade until the beast stopped twitching and fell still.
Danae ran to where the flying horse had landed. She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his coat. He was missing his saddle bag, with all her belongings and the omphalos shard, but in that moment she did not care.
‘Thank you,’ she breathed. ‘Thank you.’
Atalanta approached, arms folded across her chest. ‘Hylas?’
Danae straightened up, too overjoyed to feel embarrassment, a protective hand smoothing the horse’s neck. ‘He’s been a loyal friend, just like his namesake was.’
Atalanta’s gaze softened at the mention of their old companion and fellow Argonaut. A man who had saved Danae’s life more than once and had sacrificed his own to carry her to safety when fleeing the murderous six-armed Earthborn on the Doliones shore.
‘You and this Hylas have a lot in common,’ said Danae as she removed the dangling tether from the horse’s leg.
The warrior raised an eyebrow. ‘Me and a flying horse?’
‘He has a fondness for undiluted wine. Although his tastes are a little finer than yours.’
Atalanta’s scowl returned. Just for a moment, Danae thought she saw a spark of amusement, a glint of their old connection beneath the disdain etched on the warrior’s face.
‘One of Hades’ creations?’ Telamon yanked his sword from the manticore’s body and wiped it on its crimson fur.
‘I think so,’ said Danae, staring at its ruddy face, so human save for its terrible jaws.
Telamon looked grim. ‘It would be wishful thinking to hope we won’t meet other creatures like this. We must keep alert. Which way now?’
Charon stooped down and retrieved the glowing crystal, holding it aloft by the shattered end of his staff. Pulling his hood back over his head, he signalled down the right-hand tunnel.
‘You came back,’ Danae whispered to Hylas as they hurried after the ferryman.
The winged horse huffed a breath through his nose, then gently nipped her ear.
