We landed on the shores of Crete that evening, and I walked the beach as the others set up camp, my thoughts full of Procris.
Sometimes the past seems to reach out to touch the present. Once she had come to this very island; perhaps the soil still remembered her, though I doubted it. Procris lived only in my memories now—memories that I would not trade for anything, however much it hurt to recall them.
Perhaps that was the key to things with Medea. Not to try to keep her, but to create memories with her and capture the time we spent together like a fly in amber.
But how? That remained an open question.
When I returned to camp, Medea and Jason were sitting together talking, a sight that filled me with bile. He did not deserve the bright regard of her attention. But their smiles faded as they caught sight of something behind me, rising to their feet to get a better look.
Whirling around, I saw a figure pushing its way through the trees, movements jerky and awkward. It resembled a human, but it was ten times the height of any man or woman who ever lived. And no human ever glittered in the sunlight like that, as if made from fresh-forged bronze.
The bronze giant strode out onto the beach, its steps like thesound of shields rubbing together. It was headed directly for our camp.
The beach exploded with activity. The Argonauts were up and running, sand flying at their heels. A few stayed to fight, spears and arrows bouncing harmlessly off the metal giant’s side. Others ran into the sea, pushing theArgoalong with them.
Medea!I cast around, frantic for her safety. Ah, there she was, her pale face riding above theArgo’s rail. I climbed a rope ladder and joined her.
Back on the shore, the metal giant bent down, causing the interlocking plates that formed its body to grate against one another. Its hands closed around a boulder the size of a horse, then lifted it up and threw it.
The boulder arced through the air in an almost dreamlike path. It struck the water just short of theArgo, causing the ship to bob up and down.
“Zeus Thunderer,” someone whispered. “What is that?!”
“Talos,” I said, recalling one of Procris’s stories about her time on Crete. “A man made all of metal, created to guard this island.”
Talos kept pace as theArgoskimmed the shore seeking refuge, the bronze of his thighs pumping as he ran. He shimmered all over, except for one part: a black vein twining around his ankle.
No spears or arrows could pierce those bronze sides, but I had been hunting since I could walk and knew that anything that lived could be killed. The metal man must have some sort of weakness, and I sensed it lay in that black vein.
An idea occurred to me. Suddenly I understood how I could create memories with Medea and ensure she did not forget me.
I approached her as she leaned on the railing, the sea wind ruffling her black curls.
“We hunted deer together before,” I said. “But now we arefaced with more fearsome quarry. How would you like to join me in the greatest hunt of all?”
“I still don’t like it,” Jason muttered, looking out at Crete from the prow. The ship floated just out of boulder-throwing range, rocking gently on the swells.
I rolled my eyes, but Medea was more diplomatic. “What better way to retrieve all the things we’ve left behind on the beach?” she pointed out, laying a gentle hand on Jason’s arm. “All those supplies and weapons, we can’t just leave them. Besides, I won’t be in any danger. Atalanta’s the one taking on all the risk.”
I jutted out my chin, daring Jason to say anything to me.
To his credit, he didn’t. Jason might hem and haw, but he would accept our plan in the end. It was just the way he liked things—glory without any substantial effort on his part. Jason drifted back to the rest of the Argonauts, leaving Medea and me alone together.
I could not bring myself to look her in the face. Instead, my gaze drifted to the censers on the deck, filled with herbs. An essential part of our plan.
Our plan. Ours.Something Medea and I shared, a thought that left me warm and tingling. The seed of a memory that I could cherish long after she was gone, proof of what the witch and the huntress could accomplish together.
“I wish you luck, and victory,” Medea said.
“Who needs luck when I have strength and you have witchcraft?” I said with a grin. Already the thrill of the hunt was rising in me, a welcome distraction from my lovesick melancholy. I leaped up on the railing, wiggling my toes above the sea, then dove into the water.
I swam in swift, cutting strokes to the Cretan shore. Dashing seawater from my eyes, I was pleased to see that Talos remained unmoved, still focused on the distantArgo. Just as I predicted, Talos was on the lookout for a ship, and a lone swimmer was beneath his notice. This might change when I crawled to shore, but that was where the next part of our plan came in.
Even from here, I heard Medea chanting. I could picture her: a lone woman standing on the deck, surrounded by clouds of incense smoke pouring from the censers. Henbane, aconite, and hempflower smoke rose into the air and formed an illusion, taking on the shape of Talos himself, confronting the bronze giant with a twin. Thus did Medea hold his attention fast while I made my move.
Emerging dripping from the waves, I kept low to the ground. My bare feet sank into the sand, and I took out my knife. My constant companion since the hunters’ cabin in Arcadia, the knife was about half the length of my forearm, pitted with rust but wickedly sharp.
Talos loomed above me, mesmerized by Medea’s spell. He was tall—by Artemis Far-Shooter, he was even taller than he’d seemed before! If I failed, he would obliterate me in a single blow.
