Gods and Warriors (33 page)

The roars of the Earthshaker diminished to growls—then rumbles—then silence. Hylas heard the slap of the waves and his own heaving breath. He saw a few last pebbles rattling down from the headland. There was no sign of Kratos. The mast must have killed him outright.

No sign of Spirit either. Had he swum out to Sea?

The wreck was still sinking: Now the waves were up to Hylas’ chest. He was exhausted. He didn’t think he’d have the strength to climb out of the hold, or swim around to the shore; and if Spirit didn’t come for him—if Spirit was…

Come
on,
Hylas, he told himself. You can’t give up now.

The walls of the hold towered above him. Gasping for breath, he snatched at a tangle of rigging and tried to haul himself up.

A granite hand gripped his ankle and dragged him down.

Frantically, he kicked, but Kratos’ grip was relentless, dragging him back. Like an eel, Hylas wriggled and thrashed, dreading the bite of the dagger.

It didn’t come. Kratos dragged him underwater, and in the swirling darkness, Hylas saw why. The warrior was fighting one-handed: The mast had crushed his dagger-hand, pinning down both him and the dagger.

With a judder, the wreck sank deeper. Now the water was up to Hylas’ chest. Kratos’ black hair floated like snakes as he fought to keep his head above the surface and struggled to wrench his trapped hand free.

He couldn’t do it. Hylas met his eyes and saw the warrior realize that he was going to drown. Kratos glared back at him, unafraid.
Yes, I’m going to die—but I’m taking you with me.

Hylas stamped down hard with his free foot. The grip on his ankle slackened for an instant—and he yanked free.

As he floundered to the other side of the hold, he heard Kratos chanting in a strange, harsh tongue. There was a deafening clap of thunder. Then the clouds burst and the rain hammered down.

Kratos gave a horrible gurgling laugh. “The gods have heard me!” he gasped. “You’ll never do it now!”

With the last of his strength, Hylas grabbed the rigging and heaved himself out of the hold. Over his shoulder he saw the warrior gulping air. He saw the wild triumph in the black eyes: Kratos was drowning, but he’d retrieved the dagger of Koronos.

Again Hylas heard that horrible gurgling laugh. Then the Sea crashed over Kratos’ head and silenced him forever.

The Bull Beneath the Sea had ceased to stamp, the cloudburst had passed on, and Pirra staggered to her feet. Part of the headland had collapsed, and a great jagged crack had split the shore in two. Telamon sat on the pebbles looking dazed, rubbing his temple. In the earthshake, he’d fallen from the rocks and hit his head.

As if in a dream, Pirra watched warriors race past her and swarm up the rocks, while others splashed into the shallows. They weren’t after her, they were after Hylas. He crouched on the last scrap of wreck that remained above water, with the waves washing over him. Before she could scream a warning, he saw the Crows taking aim, and leaped off into the Sea.

It wasn’t going to save him. They were too close. His fair hair blazed in the Sun, an easy target in the dark water.

Wading into the shallows, Pirra attacked the nearest Crow, but he pushed her off with insulting ease. She saw Telamon jumping up and down, ordering the warriors not to shoot. He might as well have shouted at the wind. The Crows were jabbing at the waves and casting their spears into the Sea. They were going to spear Hylas like fishermen skewering pike.

Suddenly they faltered. With startled cries they drew back. They lowered their spears.

Telamon was staring out to Sea, shading his eyes with his hand.

The dolphins came out of the Sun. Leaping, diving, arching out of the waves as they raced toward Hylas.

So many dolphins, thought Pirra as she watched the glistening bodies arrowing through the water, weaving a ring of shining silver around Hylas. The Earthshaker had freed Spirit’s family from the inlet—and now they were coming to Hylas’ aid.

Yelling in triumph, Pirra watched the warriors edge back from the Sea. No one dared risk the anger of the Goddess by harming Her creatures.

Pirra saw Spirit burst from the waves and leap right over Hylas. The dolphin surfaced and swam alongside him, and Hylas grabbed his fin with both hands.

As the awestruck warriors looked on, Spirit made another great arching leap, with Hylas flying behind him.

Then boy and dolphin splashed down together and vanished into the deep.

T
he dolphin was
happy.
The One Beneath had stopped slamming His tail, and his pod was free!

At first he’d turned snout over flukes in an ecstasy of greeting, rubbing nose to nose and flank against flipper with his mother and little sister and all the others. Together they’d raced through the Blue Deep and squealed till the Sea sang with dolphin joy, and he’d felt the loneliness peeling off and floating away like an annoying scrap of seaweed.

Then, with the whole pod at his tail, he’d sped back to the Edge to protect the boy from the bad humans; and now they were once again diving into the Blue Deep, after fish.

And best of all, he was taking the boy with him. At last the dolphin could show him his beautiful Sea! Together they would chase the shimmering shoals, and the boy would know what it was to be a dolphin on the hunt: the thrill of trapping anchovies in a web of silver bubbles, the delight of scrunching up wriggling mouthfuls of flesh and fin and bone.

And after that, he and the boy would play together, and dive deeper and deeper into the Black Beneath.

In a heartbeat the threat of the Crows was left behind and Hylas was safe; he was flying with Spirit into a world of soft green light.

Holding tight to the dolphin’s fin, he pressed his cheek to the smooth hard back, and felt Spirit gripping his calves with his flippers so that he wouldn’t fall off. Silver-green dolphins flashed past, and kindly dark eyes met his for an instant, then faded into the blue. The Sea was alive with whistles and clicks, and the dolphins’ joy became his, tingling over his skin and trilling through him.

Moments later, Spirit was hurtling down the flank of an underwater mountain. Hylas glimpsed a rippling forest of seaweed, and the red-and-gold flicker of fish. Then the mountain was gone and the blue was darker—and he was cold.

Enough,
he told Spirit in his head.
I need to go back.

But Spirit was happily clicking away to himself, and didn’t hear.

Hylas struck the solid flank with his fist, but Spirit seemed to feel nothing but an affectionate tap. Hylas struggled to wrench his legs free, but the dolphin’s flippers were too strong; and Spirit thought he was keeping him safe.

Darkness closed in, and the clicks of the pod quickened to a buzzing whine, trapping him in a web of sound. As
they swam deeper, a sharp pain pierced his skull. He swallowed, and with his fingers squeezed his nostrils shut. The pain eased a little, but it soon came back.

Again he punched Spirit’s flank. No response.

He felt a crushing weight on his chest. He was getting dizzy. He fought a desperate urge to breathe.

I need air!
he shouted in his head.
Spirit! I’ve got to have air!

As if he’d heard him, Spirit suddenly flipped up his nose, and with a mighty beat of his tail they were surging back the way they’d come.

With astonishing speed, Hylas heard the clicks of the pod fading below him. Far above, he glimpsed a glimmer of light. The glimmer became a glow. His dizziness and pain fell away. But still he fought that terrible urge to breathe.

As they sped higher, he heard a roaring sound, and made out white waves crashing overhead. Then they were bursting into the light and he was taking great heaving gulps of air.

Gasping and shuddering, he slumped on Spirit’s back as the dolphin bore him gently toward the shore. He heard the quiet, steady
pfft!
of dolphin breath. With a pang he realized that the ordeal that had nearly cost him his life had been, for Spirit, but the briefest of dives.

At last they reached the shallows, and Hylas slid off and lay on his back in the seaweed, feeling the surf rocking him. His eyes burned with salt. His head ached.

As his wits returned, he remembered the Crows, and weakly raised himself on one elbow.

Spirit had brought him to a little inlet overhung with junipers. Hylas didn’t recognize it; but it seemed well hidden, and he could see no sign of Crows. He thought of Kratos and Telamon and the dagger. It seemed as if it had happened to someone else.

He felt Spirit gently nosing his toes, and guessed that this was the dolphin’s way of saying sorry.
I didn’t know you can’t be underwater like me. Sorry.

Clumsily, Hylas stretched out his foot and gave him an answering nudge.

He wanted to tell Spirit that he understood, and was sorry too.
Sorry I can’t be with you under the Sea.

But he wasn’t quick enough. Spirit was gone.

Be at peace,
Telamon told Hylas silently as he threw a branch of black poplar on his uncle’s funeral pyre.

Did it count if you pretended you were grieving for your uncle, when really you were mourning your friend? Would the gods still hear you?