Serpent and Stone

Chapter 3

Despite the large amount of blood from the wounds on his head and chest, it seemed he'd only been knocked out by the blow, not killed by it. Now he hissed and mumbled in pain, still unconscious as he thrashed on the ground in agony.

My immediate instinct was to sprint away as fast as my legs could carry me, before the soldier awakened and saw me. I winced at the thought of taking yet another innocent stranger's life, of murdering another family's son and brother with my curse. My heart cried out in pain and guilt at the picture, urging me to avoid it at all costs.

But something kept me from running. Most likely, it was because it was clear that despite his cries of pain, the soldier was still completely unconscious. He wasn't waking up, and judging by the severity of his head wound it might be days before he did so. If he was really so deeply knocked out, I had no reason to fear him seeing me...

Taking a deep breath, I carefully crept closer. He continued to grit his teeth and cry out in pain, but didn't acknowledge my presence at all. I knelt beside him, taking a moment to assess his injuries.

His armor is what had saved him. His enemy's sword had cleaved clean through his bronze breastplate, leaving a large horizontal slash in the metal, but the armor had lessened the weapon's impact. While still bleeding dangerously, the cut was shallow and didn't seem to have damaged any organs. If the wound was cleaned and stitched, it would likely heal.

His head wound was another matter. That the blow hadn't killed him instantly was in itself a miracle. Even the smallest head wounds could have dire consequences. It was even possible that the young man would die from the injury in a few hours, the wound killing him slowly and painfully. I brushed back his hair from his forehead, examining the cut there that continued to bleed rapidly. It too required stitching in order to heal. I inhaled deeply, pulling my hand away and sitting back on my knees.

Whether or not the blow to his head ended up killing him was up to the Fates. But one thing was certain: if I left him here to bleed out, his death was assured. My snaked writhed in protest, eager to leave the dark, disturbing smells of the battlefield. I ignored them, my gaze trailing into the distance as I weighed the choices before me.

If I did nothing, this man would die. It wouldn't be my fault, and the Fates would not mark me for it. After all, he was the one who came to my island uninvited. Now he simply suffered the consequences of his actions.

My gaze fell back on his face, his brows creased in pain and his skin marked by cuts and bruises. Light brown hair, the color of fallen leaves in autumn, curled at the nape of his neck. Blood dripped down the sharp angles of his cheeks, marring his clear features with streaks of crimson.

I wondered what my mother would do if she were still alive. I knew she would have been in favor of leaving the soldier to die. She had always hated the rare stranger that landed on the island, for she knew what their fate would be and how it would crush me. Too many times those strangers, guided by the cruel Fates, stumbled upon me, and their soft flesh hardened to gray stone before I could even open my mouth to scream. When it was too late, I did scream, and mother came running to pull me away from the bone-chilling sight- the eyes locked in terror, the lips parted in surprise and agony. A statue that stood as a monument to my curse's unrelenting cruelty.

It had taken me a long time to be able to think about those times without my entire body seizing up and trembling, tears of shame and fear spilling down my cheeks. Even now I felt an invisible knife twist in my gut at the memories. So much death and fear and pain had been my fault. I lost track of the numbers over the years. Certainly too many to count. I imagined Athena smirking down at me from her palace on Olympus, satisfied with her punishment. It was that image that gave me the strength to banish my hesitation. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides, seething in quiet rebellion.

She had made me a monster, but I did not have to fulfill her twisted prophecy. Even if the purpose of my being was to cause death, I could save a single life. I could rebel against her in this one way. I pictured the gray-eyed goddess's smirk curdling into a scowl at the sight of me, her horrifying monster, saving rather than killing. It brought the smallest smile to my face.

I took a deep inhale and released my clenched fists. I had made my decision.

I abruptly stood up, my gaze scanning the battlefield. First, I needed a way to carry him back to the temple. He would be too heavy for me to carry on my own, and I feared that the jostling might worsen his wounds.

A flash of gleaming metal caught my eye next to another fallen soldier nearby. I followed it, and pulled out a large bronze shield from beneath the man's body. It was heavy, my arms straining to keep it upright, but beautiful as well. The bronze face of the shield was delicately carved with images of war and battle. Tiny, perfectly sculpted men bludgeoned their enemies with clubs and felled golden lions with glittering spears. Monsters I couldn't even recognize, bizarre creatures that were a combination of many animals, fled in fear from brave, vengeful armies.

My snakes hissed at the thing and I quickly looked away. They felt the same unease that I did. The images on the shield were a reminder, and a warning as well: save the soldier if you can, but never forget that monsters like you are meant to be killed by heroes like him.

I found another abandoned shield on the blood-soaked grass and took that one too. I then went about looking for something strong to use to tie them together. Thick rope would have been ideal, but of course it was nowhere to be found here. In the end, I found sturdy leather whips tied to the belts of some of the dead soldiers. The whip was not an honorable weapon of battle, but a useful tool for punishment. They were the chosen weapons of the Furies themselves, those three gruesome goddesses of vengeance who delighted in nothing more than the torment and torture of mortals. Most likely, the men had carried the whips with them in anticipation of flogging their captured enemies for information. They would do for my purposes.

I tied the two shields together with one whip, ensuring that the knot was tight and secure. With the second whip, I created a rein that would allow me to pull the structure with me. I tested the contraption, pulling firmly on the rein. It was heavy but tolerable. Like this, I would be able to pull the soldier back to the temple.

I turned and glanced back at the young man. His violent thrashing had ceased, and now he only squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, his chest hardly moving up and down with his shallow breaths. Blood pooled around him, continuing to flow from the gash on his chest. With a sinking stomach, I realized he might not even make it even with my help. Was it still worth the effort, if he would only die anyways?

I clenched my jaw, pushing away the thoughts. Even if he died, I had to try to save him. Even that alone, the act of trying, would be enough to spite Athena and her twisted curse. Muscles straining, I pulled the connected shields next to his body. Being as gentle and careful as I could, I grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him onto the makeshift sled. He didn't cry out in agony or wake up with the movement, didn't seem to register it at all.

Some of the tension in my muscles loosened. That was good- I needed him to remain unconscious for as long as it took to stitch his wounds. And then... well, I hadn't quite thought that far ahead.

But I wasn't worried. As I gripped the reins tightly in my palms and began the trek across the island and back to the temple, a light, giddy feeling already filled my chest. I had dared to do something that was against my very nature, something that flew in the face of everything the Fates had planned out for my long, miserable life. With one decision, I had contradicted all of Athena's designs. Despite the grueling journey ahead of me and the heavy load I pulled, I could hardly keep the grin off of my face.

It was the first time I realized how good, how powerful, it felt to defy the gods.

It would not be the last.