Ahead of them, through the mouth of a cave that was just large enough for a small fishing tub to pass though, was the sky.
It was day: glorious, bright day.
The sky seemed to reach towards her with azure arms and wrap her in soft swathes of cloud. Despite the collar, despite all the horrors she had endured, for a heartbeat she was weightless, nothing but a pearly drop of water warmed by the sun.
Then Hylas nosed her between the shoulder blades. She smiled and wiped her face, wading forwards to ease herself out of the water onto a stony outcrop at the base of the cave’s entrance. Gazing up, she saw they had come out at the base of a shallow cliff.
She looked to the Missing as they emerged from the cave and began to pull themselves up onto the rocks behind her.
‘We need to get to higher ground before the tide comes in.’
‘Can the horse take us up?’ asked Telamon.
Danae looked at Hylas. The steed’s muzzle was flecked with spittle, his coat gleaming with sweat. ‘He’s exhausted. He’ll have to fly Atalanta and Heracles up, but the rest of us can climb.’ She weaved her way between the Missing to where the horse waited at the mouth of the sea-cave and smoothed his neck. ‘One last push, Hylas.’
Atalanta did not have time to protest as Hylas surged through the water, finally able to spread his magnificent wings after the confines of the passage. The warrior’s eyesbulged and she clung to Heracles as the horse soared into the air. The Missing stared after them, clinging to the rocks like barnacles.
Telamon pulled himself out of the sea beside her, his sword sheathed in the back of his belt. ‘We climb?’
Danae looked up at the plethora of crevices and grooves in the cliff’s surface. ‘We climb.’
Telamon went first, the Missing following. Danae was relieved to linger for a moment, rest her aching body and watch the sunlight dance across the waves.
She was free. She was alive.
She turned back to the rocks and, as the last Missing scaled the cliff face, forced her weary limbs to move. Once her hands found the first few rivets, instinct took over, and the pain in her chest became just another note amongst the whistle of the wind and the crash of the waves. She had been good at this once, and she would be again.
At last, her fingers curled around a grassy ledge and with one final burst of effort she heaved herself over the edge of the cliff. Pulling herself forward on her elbows, she slumped onto her stomach, breathing in the verdant scent of the grass and dry earth.
‘Is she the last one?’ A voice she did not recognize, harsh and clipped.
Danae’s head snapped up. A group of about a dozen men stood around the cliff edge. All carried weapons, most in battered mismatched armour that had seen better days. Several tents were erected behind them. The Missing were huddled together, eyeing the strangers with fresh fear. Telamon stood with Atalanta, supporting the warrior. Both of their wrists were bound. Danae’s pulse quickened at the sight of two of the men holding onto Hylas’ wings, Heracles still slumped across his back.
‘Answer your king,’ barked one of the soldiers to Telamon.
‘She’s the last,’ he replied, eyes downcast.
‘Get with the others.’ The soldier gestured to the Missing.
As Danae stumbled to her feet, an older man detached himself from the pack and stalked towards Hylas. His light-brown skin was spotted with age, and a gold band nestled on his greying hair. Yet despite this regalia, his navy robe and cloak were worn and trimmed with dirt. He lifted one of Heracles’ emaciated arms, then let it drop against Hylas’ snowy-white side, sounding a disparaging noise in the back of his throat. ‘He looks dreadful. And no Kerberos.’ The man glowered at Telamon and Atalanta as though this was their fault. ‘How in Tartarus am I meant to reclaim my kingdom from that bastard Agamemnon now?’
This must be Eurystheus.
Danae stiffened as Hylas jerked away from him, two more soldiers grabbing hold of the horse’s mane to restrain him. The deposed king backed away, but his eyes gleamed. ‘Still, this creature may prove useful.’
Telamon glowered at Eurystheus. ‘This is not what we agreed. We were to bring back Heracles, that is all. Let the others go.’
‘I entrusted you with returning my hero, not this sack of bones and a rabble of the dead made flesh.’
‘He said, let them go,’ Danae repeated with force.
Eurystheus turned to look at Danae, his face tightening in disdain. ‘You will kneel before your king.’ Two men marched forward and forced her to her knees. ‘I am the rightful ruler of Mycenae. You may have been released from Hades’ kingdom, but you are in my service now.’ He turned to address the Missing. ‘You are all mine.’
‘If you have lost your kingdom, then you are no longer a king.’
Eurystheus turned and struck Danae across the face, his rings biting into her jaw. She tasted blood.
He lifted her chin with a gnarled finger. ‘A spirited one, eh?’ He flicked the metal collar around her neck. ‘Was this part of your punishment? Which realm did you come from?’ Uncertainty bled through his imperious tone.
