Hippolyta and the Curse of the Amazons

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

PREY

HIPPOLYTA WAS GLAD of her sturdy leggings as she slid and scrambled over the shards of flint that covered the sharp incline. She hit the shingle with a wet thud, and Tithonus cried out.

She touched his shoulder. He cried again and turned, saw her, and whispered, “Mother?”

“I’m not your mother!” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m your sister—worse luck!” She saw that his eyes were partly glazed, and he seemed unable to focus. His head fell backward and his eyes closed again.

Nervously she glanced out to sea and saw the water seethe and swell. A huge submerged shadow was drawing nearer to the shore. There was no time to be nice to the boy.

She slapped him.

His eyes fluttered open again, then closed.

She slapped him harder.

“What—” he began.

She dragged him up by the arm, and he seemed to wobble about.

Hippolyta bit her lip. If she couldn’t wake him up, she’d have to carry him. But before she picked him up, she quickly looked around the narrow stretch of beach.

There was nowhere to hide. High crags blocked them on both sides. Either she ran straight back up the flinty slope, or …

“Prince,” she said sharply.

He barely registered her voice.

“Tithonus!” She tried again.

He tried to look at her.

“WE’RE GOING TO BE EATEN BY THE MONSTER!” she yelled.

This time he heard.

“Follow me,” she said.

She clambered nimbly up the slope, clawing at the rocks and jamming her feet into any holes and crevices to give her purchase on the rocks.

But Tithonus only managed to get two steps up before collapsing. “No use,” he cried.

“I agree you’re no use,” she muttered under her breath. “But I’m not letting that monster eat you. I have other plans for you.”

She backed down and grabbed him by the shoulder of his tunic. Then she lugged him up till he was beside her.

“We’re both getting out of here,” she told him. “Together.”

They began struggling up the slope, Hippolyta dragging Tithonus along every few feet. It was hard work, and they were both sweating profusely, but they made the top of the slope before the shadow of the monster reached the shore. Their fingers were scraped raw, and Hippolyta’s arms, already aching from the long hours she’d spent tied up, now hurt from hauling the boy.

When they reached the top, they collapsed facedown on the rock.

Then Tithonus gave a strange squeak, and Hippolyta turned and looked at him over her shoulder. He was pale and shaking and pointing his hand at the sea.

One great green coil was rising high out of the sea, throwing off tons of water that crashed as waves against the shore.

Then something big as a boulder broke the surface: the monster’s scaly head, with unblinking serpent eyes. When the mouth yawned open, Hippolyta saw row upon row of daggerlike teeth. She’d never seen that many teeth on a creature before.

“It—it—it looks hungry,” Tithonus whispered.

“It can stay that way!” Hippolyta told him. She jumped up and pulled him up with her. They leaped off the rock face, then began to run frantically across the stunted brown grass.

“My chest hurts,” Tithonus wheezed.

“I know a cure for that,” Hippolyta said.

“Really?”

“Being eaten.” She shoved him ahead of her and then made the mistake of looking behind.

The monster’s head had just cleared the rim of the headland. Giant claws, like great bronze clamps, dug into the broken ground as it hauled its long body out of the sea.

“Faster!” Hippolyta cried, pushing the boy again.

This time he tripped and fell, and Hippolyta bit back the curse that filled her mouth. If he’d been training in Themiscyra, the instructors would have thumped and sworn at him for his weakness.

“Run, Tithonus,” she hissed at him, “And I promise you’ll see your mother.”

He tried to run faster, but she knew he was much too slow.

She knew she was much too slow.

Glancing back again, she saw the whole of the monster was now on the land, its ungainly body perched on four stubby legs that propelled it forward awkwardly. Its neck had stretched out the entire long length; the gaping mouth hissed horribly. Its feet thumped the ground like hammers, and its tail lashed from side to side.

The question, Hippolyta knew, was not how fast could they run, but where could they go?

Then, cresting a small rise, she saw a farm ahead of them, a cluster of battered buildings leaning on one another like old friends. Perhaps they could hide—

“There!” she cried, pointing.

Tithonus tried to say something but hadn’t the breath, and Hippolyta knew that it wouldn’t be long before she’d have to carry him or leave him to his doom.

She was certain that the farm was their only hope. They had enough time to get there before the monster was upon them. Enough time for that—but little else.

Maybe there’s a weapon at the farm, she thought, which would at least allow her to fight the monster, though the gods knew she’d no desire to get close to its ugly head.

“Artemis,” she cried, “if you have any mercy in you at all, now would be the time to let it show!”

Dragging Tithonus by the arm, Hippolyta hauled him into the first open doorway, which led into the farm cottage’s single room.

There was a crude table, a broken chair, and a back exit guarded by a tattered cloth instead of a door. The roof to the cottage was gone and the evening sky hung over them.

The air around them suddenly grew heavy and smelled of the bottom of the sea.

Tithonus looked up and screamed.

Hippolyta knew that the creature had found them. “Run!” she cried, dragging him with her through the tattered curtain and out the back.

No sooner had they left the cottage than the monster brought its whole weight down on the little building, demolishing it in an instant. A cloud of flying rock and plaster filled the air, and Tithonus was knocked onto his knees.

Hippolyta yanked him up, hurriedly glanced around, and saw their one chance for survival. “The well,” she cried.

The boy could scarcely move, so she had to drag him over to the well. There was a ragged rope hanging on the other side, but they hadn’t the time to get it. The monster was already upon them, and his breath stank of fish and flesh and other things too awful to name.

“Jump!” Hippolyta croaked, and leaped over the edge of the well, dragging Tithonus with her.

Above their heads the colossal jaws crashed shut like the sound of trees breaking in a storm.

Hippolyta caught her breath as she hit the water fifteen feet down. She was plunged into a cold dark, and the waters closed over her head.

The River Styx, she thought as she sank, the river that runs around the Underworld, would not be this cold.

Then her feet touched the slimy bottom of the well, and she pushed against it and propelled herself up again. When she broke the surface of the well water, she flailed around for something to hold on to. After a moment her fingers found the rope and the clay jar that had been used for bringing up water.

Tithonus too broke the water’s surface, and before he could sink again, she grabbed the braided collar of his tunic and pulled him close.

Just then the monster stuck its snout into the well’s top. But its head was too big, and it could not force its way down. In frustration it roared and roared, and the well’s echo nearly deafened them. Hippolyta fought the urge to put her fingers in her ears and instead hung on to Tithonus with one hand, the clay pot with the other.

The monster gave one more awful roar, then stomped away.

“Thank you, Artemis,” she whispered.

“I’m freezing,” Tithonus said. Indeed his teeth were chattering.

“Just a few minutes more, till we’re sure that monster’s gone,” Hippolyta said. “Then we’ll climb the rope out of here.” She looked at Tithonus, who was now shivering uncontrollably. “You can climb a rope, can’t you?”

He nodded.

She wondered, though. Exhausted, frightened, cold, even she was going to have trouble climbing.

“You’d better go first,” she said. “I’ll be behind you all the way.”