Ignoring the shrieks of startled maids, I yanked open the door to the tunnel and fled into it. Absyrtos had insisted on building this underground route to the temple of Hekate for me, adamant that I not sully my virtue by walking the city streets alone. What delicious irony: The very thing Absyrtos intended as a way to confine me would instead become my final route to freedom.
The tunnel was pitch-black, and condensation dripped from the walls. I had a momentary fear that the unreinforced earth might collapse and bury us alive, but I clutched Jason’s hand more tightly, and soon we emerged into the temple.
Startling a scattering of worshippers and priestesses, we sped past the statue of Hekate.Goodbye, Mother,I thought. There was no time for farewell; there was no time even for regret. Sunlight nearly blinded me as we fled past the monuments of the necropolis. My lungs burned and my legs ached as we ran along the path to the seaside, which I’d walked so many times before.
I glanced up at the sky and saw a pale moon floating in the blue, watching us like a baleful eye. Once, I had received adulation for making the moon appear in the noonday sky, but this was entirely natural rather than the result of magic. Once, the moon had been companion to my magic, and now she was witness to my escape.
What would my mother think of me, fleeing like a criminal after stealing my father’s greatest treasure?
There was no point in wondering. I held Jason’s hand and kept running.
20
Atalanta
Perhaps bears were not meant to love; we are solitary creatures, after all.
I washed myself in the sea, scrubbing away the ashes and the memories of Meleager’s death. The cold was bracing, a mercy amid my grief. Far behind me, the other Argonauts shouted to each other, but I could not make out their words over the roar of the sea wind.
My mind was made up: I would find Procris, and then we would leave the human world behind forever. I dismissed the goddess’s prophecy that I would never know love without accompanying loss, but it didn’t matter because I would never love anyone again other than her. Stepping from the water, I shook myself dry, then began to walk the path that led to the Colchian city. Jason had ordered us to stay on the beach, but when did I give a fig for anything Jason said?
A flicker of movement on the path ahead. Two figures running full tilt; one of them was Jason, his lanky form unmistakable. The other was a woman.
For a breathless moment I thought she might be Procris, though a better look disabused me of this notion. The woman was too short, more generous of chest and hip, with darker hair. Not to mention that she wore a long purple dress and too much jewelry, utterly impractical attire. Whoever this woman might be, she wasrunning as fast as she could, skirts hitched up and legs pumping beneath them.
I understood the reason for her haste when I caught sight of what rode behind her: armed Colchian soldiers, mounted on fine horses and ready for war.
Medea
We had just drawn within sight of Jason’s ship when I heard the sound of hoofbeats, louder than my own racing heart. Risking a backward glance, I saw the Qulhan cavalry covering our hard-won progress in a matter of moments. At the fore was Absyrtos, his face contorted in rage.
A whimper of despair escaped my lips. We would never reach the ship in time; the warriors would be upon us in moments. I wondered whether my brother would kill me outright or keep me alive under torture until I gave him heirs.
Arrows hissed through the air, embedding themselves into the ground around us. “Down, Medea!” Jason cried, throwing the Golden Fleece over our heads. Another volley of arrows thudded against it.
Sothis is death,I thought numbly. What a fool I was, thinking I could ever escape this place.
A war cry rang in my ears and suddenly someone was there, leaping over us. Beyond the shelter of the Golden Fleece, I caught a glimpse of strong legs and the flash of a spear, along with a long spill of tawny hair. I realized with a shock that the warrior was a woman, the same one I’d spotted on Jason’s ship.
She was magnificent. I watched, awestruck, as she drove her spear into the chest of the horse closest to us, pitching its rider to the ground in a spray of sand. Then she whirled to the nextwarrior, slashing him in the face. A dance of death, executed as neatly as a temple ceremony. For a moment, my fear was held at bay by awe.
The woman was like the war goddess Sekhmet come to life. But then one of the arrows grazed her arm and a red spring of blood welled up in its passage. She clapped a hand over the injury, hissing through her teeth at the pain. Though fierce, she was also mortal and could not hold off a contingent of Qulhan warriors alone.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to. Feet thundered past us as the rest of Jason’s crew arrived, surging forward to confront the Qulhans. The screams of men and horses filled the air as the two sides collided.
Jason was beside me, a hand extended. “Come on, Medea!” he called over the din.
I forced my exhausted limbs into motion, scrabbling in the sand. The next thing I felt was the cold of seawater, then the wood of the ship’s hull under my fingers. Strong hands pulled me on board, and I rolled across the deck, giddy with relief. Briefly I wondered what happened to the fighting woman and hoped that she’d managed to get on board as well.
“Mind the hostage!” one of Jason’s men shouted, and a limp form landed heavily next to me. I was stunned to see that it was Absyrtos.
A wave of terror swamped me, but Absyrtos was not the fierce warrior any longer. He looked dazed, his mouth opening and closing like that of a fish.
What ails you?I wanted to ask. But then I saw the point of the arrow protruding from his chest and the pink tinge of the foam at his lips.
Not all the Qulhan archers had missed, it seemed.
Part Two
