Perseus – In the time of Ancient Greek Myth and Legend

Perseus stood bravely in between his warriors, nearly one hundred strong, all men said to possess the strength of Oxen and the hunting ability of a Mountain Lion. They were armed to the teeth with swords, shields, dirks, spears and arrows and they were adorned with leather and metal clad armour; and leather sandals.

They were not exactly ‘his’ warriors. He had hired them with his own coin… all of the rest of his own coin, for this very expedition.

They had arrived on landing boats from the Galley ships which were anchored a few hundred marks out, due to the rocky coastline.

The warriors had dragged the boats ashore and stowed them, gathered their gear and prepared for the expedition to continue.

“There, the rocky cliffs, up there is where the wicked Medusa dwells, so said the Graeae,” Perseus stated, pointing with his gauntlet covered arm, and his long finger outstretched.

They all looked across the landscape, a mixture of craggy rocks, scrubland and wilderness and a dense and dark woodland.

The warriors started trudging forwards, their sandals crunched through the sand until they reached the outcropping of undergrowth.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the skies were painted with hues of orange and crimson. The warriors ventured into the wilderness; they lit torches which cast long shadows on the uneven ground.

They picked and hacked their way through the undergrowth until they passed into the dense woodland. The thick bark of the trees creaked in the wind.

As the warriors ventured into the dense, dark woods, their torchlight cast eerie shadows that danced among the ancient trees. The air was thick with tension, the crackling of leaves beneath their feet muffled by the weight of uncertainty. Their hearts thudded with a mixture of apprehension and determination as they zig-zagged their path through.

There was a shrill cry in the night air, it cracked through the air, it was a high- pitched cry that struck fear in the hearts of the men and it definitely caused them to pause, wide eyed and look about them anxiously.

“What was that?” hushed whispers arose amongst them.

“That be a banshee,” one said.

“It’s a ghost,” another said.

“It’s a mountain goat, that’s all,” the Sergeant of Arms barked, whacking two of the soldiers across the shoulders with a truncheon. “Now move it along, we need to make progress to make camp,”

The warriors trudged on through the woodland, slightly more uneasily than before.

“It’s a bad omen, is what it is,” a bag carrying sherpa glumly reported near the rear of the baggage train.

“Azrael and Lander,” the Sergeant growled at two of his fastest runners and sharpest scouts. They were light of foot and sharp of eye. “Go out forwards, give us a range of a few hundred marks, be quick about it but quiet as you like, and Azrael, if you can find a nifty way to them caves up there; go do it son and be quick about it; I’d be quite happy to break my fast up there,”

“Aye,” they nodded in salute and they were off, barely audible under foot.

By now the troop had returned into a monotonous march, crunching through undergrowth, the size of their troop meant that they made the sound of elephants when they were marching; it was unavoidable for these particular battle ready Warriors, weighed down with armour, weapons, gear and shields; apart from the light-footed scouts who were lightly dressed and armed.

“Mountain goat?” Perseus whispered into the Sergeant’s ear at his side. The bearded Sergeant glanced grouchily at him.

“That sound weren’t no mountain goat, Master Perseus,” the Sergeant of Arms said in the most hushed of tone. “But we don’t be wanting nobody saying otherwise,”

“What do you think it was?” Perseus asked him.

“It weren’t no goat, it weren’t no Mountain Lion, no wild horse, nor Boar, nor deer, nor anything of that sort. It weren’t human neither, that’s for sure.”

“What could it have been then?” Perseus asked impatiently, and anxiously.

“Fuck knows Master, excuse me language, I ain’t in the guessing game, I’m a soldier that be true, it sounded like that noise came from over yonder,” the Sergeant marked with his hand. “Don’t ye worry Master, we ain’t heading that way anyway, our troop be heading several marks across from there, our scouts’ll shift anything they see; don’t ye worry. That Azreal he’s got a mean bow and arrow and he’ll have an arrow shaft through the dick of whatever that thing was in no time; you’ll see.”

Perseus left it at that, slightly unsatisfied.

The trudging of the troop continued, the leather flaps of trim around their thighs clattered as they marched, the metal of their armour clinked, the swords, shields and weaponry all chinked as they trudged upwards along the hill through the woodland.

A sharp human cry cut through the night air this time; it caused the troop to stop dead once again. Those who hadn’t been concentrating, and had fallen into a marching trance of a sort, bumped into their fellows in front and stumbled to a stop.

The cry was cut short before the sound of the trudging troop ceased. It sounded male and it sounded painful and terrified.

Nobody spoke, they were well trained, they listened, their ears pricked up.

The Sergeant opened his mouth slightly, to hear better, his leather helm strap stretched slightly. Perseus watched him listening, waiting for his guidance and direction.

There was just silence, apart from the rustling of the leaves in the trees, the creaking branches and the lapping of the waves on the coast behind them.

“Should we double back and make camp on the coast?” Perseus asked.

“What and risk getting pushed into the ocean by whatever might be here?” The Sergeant responded. He shook his head. “No, we need to head for the top of the hill and make camp and a defensible position there for the night,” he whispered.

“Right, I’m going to the front, Master Perseus, will you join me?” The Sergeant suggested. Perseus looked about nervously, realising that the Sergeant had strategically said that loud enough for the surrounding warriors to hear; thereby giving Perseus little choice other than to appear craven.

“I’m with you,” Perseus responded.

They crunched and pushed through the warriors as they made their way to the front, it took a goodly few minutes to reach the front of the troop.

“What see or hear you?” The Sergeant asked the rangers at the front.

“We heard the cry Serg, that definitely be the voice of Lander,” one of the rangers’ responded, his eyes looked slightly unnerved. Lander was a good brave soldier and a cracking scout.

“Anything else?” Sergeant asked.

“Not a peep Serg,” the ranger responded. The Sergeant paused and listened for a few moments.

“Alright, on ahead, six of you, with me, and Master Perseus; rest of you, all around defence; spears out all prickly like, shields up; mind your fellows and maintain your shield locks; I don’t want nothing getting through. If so much as a rat farts through ye shield wall I’ll get your bollocks in me hand and rip ‘em off,” the Sergeant growled back to his troop. “Corporal, you’ve got the troop,” he said to one of his next in line of command. 

The warrior troop squatted and as quietly as possible prepared their defensive position, they fanned out and circled into a defensive position; the sherpas, kit, and bowmen all positioned in the centre of the circle; with the Corporal ready to issue orders. A brazier was set up and prepared to be lit.

“Torches out,” the Sergeant stated. All torches were extinguished and they squatted for a goodly time to allow their eyes to adjust to the night.

“Onwards,” the Sergeant whispered to their squad of men and they very quietly proceeded away from the main troop.

Soon they were alone, just eight of them, quietly and carefully tiptoeing their way through the dense undergrowth. No man had cut a path through this woodland, it had seemed, it was wild and unsullied. They proceeded for some time, until they caught an awful stench. A terrible stench, it caught badly in the throat.  

The Sergeant’s guts tightened. He knew that smell. He hated that smell, but he knew it too well.

“Hold, defences,” he ordered, they all silently squatted and brandished their shields and spears.  Their eyes scanned, the experienced soldiers knew the smell too.

“What’s that smell?” Perseus crinkled up his face.

“Guts Master, guts of man,” The Sergeant replied. Perseus looked at him sharply. The didn’t sound good. He looked out ahead in the darkness.

“Trane, step ahead,” The Sergeant instructed. “Everyone with him, careful now,” they crept forwards, squatting, shields and spears out on guard, Trane leading them. Then he stumbled and stopped dead.

They all stopped sharply and squatted. They could hear Trane fumbling with something on the ground.

“Serg,” he whispered. The Sergeant shimmied over to him and looked down, pressing out with his hand and feeling something warm and wet. He felt his way along it and felt a distinctive metal hilt wrapped with leather strapping. It was Lander’s dirk. He was feeling Lander’s hips, but they had been severed completely in two. His body was warm and fresh.

The Sergeant gritted his teeth. He felt along the cut, the poor man had been cut into two, snapped in half; something very strong had done that, but it was a serrated cut, not cleaved with a sharp blade.

The Sergeant paused, thinking. This was not what he had expected on this expedition. They knew it would be dangerous, there was a reason this Island was avoided by seamen, merchants and settlers alike, but a troop of warriors shouldn’t have been perturbed.

“Back to the troop,” he finally said. “Trane and Opal, you’ve got our rears,” he stepped back and gripped hold of Perseus’ shoulder bracer. “We’ll be following your idea and making camp at the beach tonight, I think,” he growled.

The Sergeant started making his way back down the rugged path that they had created through the undergrowth. He was somewhat more speedy and less stealthy than their approach had been. 

He didn't much fancy their chances in the darkness with whatever had caused Lander to be sliced into two like a piece of salami; and cause Azreal to disappear without a trace.  

The other troops kept pace with him, he could hear them all panting and exerting themselves as they worked their way through the tangle of wiry undergrowth. 

Then they heard it again, the shrill cry of whatever creature was out there, from behind. It echoed through the wood and chilled their hearts. 

It struck fear through the Sergeant's heart and he was not a fearful man, by any stretch. 

He withdrew his sword from its leather scabbard and spun on his heel. 

"Nooo!" There came a scream from from of his men from behind, a rustling sound, something heavy stomped on feet, there were many feet, it sounded like. 

Then there was a terrible squelching sound and a crunching of bone, another human scream of agony and terror. 

"Back to the troop, run!" The Sergeant ordered. He held back a moment, grabbing a spear from one of his passing men, let the last of them pass him. He listened to the sounds in the darkness ahead of him. Her heard the sound of scrabbling feet, many feet, the sound of scratching on tree bark. 

He stood poised with his arm holding the spear, and threw it towards where he thought the target was. 

He struck it true, but there was the lightest spark of light, caused by the metal tip of the spear glancing off a hard surface of something. He saw a dark hairy surface. 

He didn't wait to see what happened next, he turned and fled with his men. He ran through the dense undergrowth, ducking under branches, diving his way through and charging between trees. 

Something very heavy was skittering behind him, crashing into trees, but maintaining a frightening speed; it was gaining on him. 

He could see the metal of the weapons of his troop ahead, gleaming in the crescent moon that had appeared through cloud above. 

"Fire arrows, on me!" He bellowed the order as he ran.  

He saw fire arrows being lit on the brazier; that had been smouldering in the centre of the makeshift defensive position. 

"Draw…Aim… loose!" He heard the Corporal shouting out. 

A volley of glowing arrows shot through the night outwards from the troop, a few thudded into trees and branches on the way, many more zipped over and above, but a solid two score of them found their target behind the Sergeant. 

He risked a glance backwards, he was eager to see their adversary, but wished he hadn't looked once he saw the monstrosity that was behind him. 

As he looked back, the fire arrows lit up a terrifying sight, eight gleaming giant orb like black eyes, hairy pedipalps and head of a giant spider, a huge cephalothorax spread out behind the eyes. It was an impossible beast to behold. A creature of myth and legend. 

The fire arrows thwacked into different parts of the giant hairy arachnid. It was lit up for a few moments and screeched a terrifying sound which caused the Sergeant to drop to his knees and clutch his ears with his hands; pressing them firmly against his ears. 

The spider reared up on its hind legs, it was several metres tall and a good five or six metres long, a terrifying aberration. The Sergeant could see huge fangs beneath the enormous head. 

As soon as the screeching ended the Sergeant was up and slashing at the despicable creature with his sword.  

He heard the roar of his troop behind him. The Corporal had ordered them to charge the monster; presumably to save their Sergeant. 

Another volley of fire arrows, much more accurately aimed, thwacked into the spider again, causing little flashes of flame across its hairy body, abdomen and one struck an eye. 

The spider reared and squealed again in pain. 

A spear flew through the air and glanced off the huge body. 

The spider lunged towards the Sergeant, fangs snapping, but then his troop were with him, shoulder to shoulder. Shields up, guarding against the monster's strikes, the spiders legs pummelled the shield wall and it enabled the Sergeant to get a breather for a moment.  

The spider paused, it prodded the shields with the tips of its giant hairy legs, it tried to curl its long hairy legs around the tops of the shields, but the warriors stabbed at the legs and body with their spears, forcing it to squeal and withdraw slightly. 

Flaming torches were thrust towards the spider, forcing it back some more. It retreated away from the glow of the flame, skittering diagonally away, but it remained just outside the arc of light. 

The line of soldiers began to withdraw, stepping backwards, but maintaining their guard. 

Another volley of arrows were let loose, clattering into the spider and the surroundings. 

The spider spat and squealed in anger. 

From behind there were suddenly panicked shouts. 

The Sergeant swung to look, in dismay to see another giant spider had appeared on their right flank, its stripy beige and dark hairy body flashed in the light as it pounced onto a soldier and plunged its fangs into the poor soldier's chest, paralysing him. 

Before anyone could do anything the arachnid was dragging the paralysed soldier into the darkness. The last they saw of him was his metal helm rolling loose along the ground. 

The line of defence pivoted, they were well trained and seasoned warriors. Despite the fearsome creatures they knew how to work as a unit. As one they were stronger.  

A scream to the left flank spun the Sergeant around, a third giant spider dark red and sand colour had appeared and pounced onto two soldiers. The spiders were assaulting them from all sides. 

"Pull back, all round defence!" The Sergeant bellowed, as the two men were pinned down. 

The spider plunged its fangs into one of them, curled its long powerful legs around the other and spun it's huge silken web, swiftly turning the wriggling body and covering him in a web cocoon. 

Spearmen lunged towards the spider. It spat towards them, jerking forwards, causing them to hesitate; before it grabbed both of its prey and dragged them away, one of the soldiers was screaming as he was dragged away. 

"Light torches!" The Corporal ordered. "Fire the flare arrow!" He demanded. A particularly bright arrow was let loose straight into the sky. A moment later a horn bellowed from the distance, from the flagship of the flotilla of ships in the bay.

Tales of Myth and Legend

Chapter 5 – The Tale of Medusa – Part 2

By Richard C.H. Davies

Warning this story contains: Giantess witch, fantasy fiction, Shrunken Man, giantess, kidnap, giant woman lick, soft vore, naked giantess, chase, hard vore, giant spiders, handheld, taunting, entrapment, warfare and action

Those at the rear of the troop might have seen a faint set of lights on the flagship as the master brazier was lit; the single catapult of the flotilla was being prepared for battle. 

The Sergeant was withdrawing with his men, keeping the middle spider at bay, the other wings of their flanks were very promptly swinging inwards, moving away from the flanking spiders which reappeared again for more prey. 

Then the soldiers reached the outer defences of the main troop and withdrew back inside their ranks to bolster the hastily prepared defences. They were digging and embedding the butt ends of their spears into the ground, and diagonally pointing the sharp ends outwards, to create makeshift fortifications. It worked well against horses, but giant spiders… that was anyone's guess. 

"Fire," the Sergeant called back, "Fire seems to work," 

A loud horn was blown from the middle of their troop, directed as a signal towards the flagship down in the bay below, and another flare arrow was launched upwards above the central spider. 

A volley of fire arrows unveiled the spiders with a flash of light. They were slowly approaching the line of defences, the flash of light caused them to skitter sideways slightly. 

They were jumpy, but already getting used to light and flame. 

A whooshing sound above them caused the troop to snap their heads upwards. 

A cheer broke out as they saw the first fireball soaring through the air from the ship mounted catapult. 

The ball of flame burst against a tree not too far in front of them, spilling the contents of oil and fire, spreading across the branch of the tree, and creating quite a flash of fire. 

The spiders shrieked in shock and surprise and immediately jumped away from the source of light.  

"Not a half bad shot!" The Sergeant called back to the Corporal. "Again!" 

The horn was blared and another flare arrow let loose, a few marks angled over from the last.  

The soldiers remained firm as the spiders edged around the arc of light cast by the burning tree. They skittered around it; their huge legs carried their colossal weight as they charged the defences. 

A loud whoosh from above and a fireball arced overhead, this one wasn't aimed so well and thumped too many marks away to be of any use. It set another tree ablaze further away.  

The horn blew again, with urgency. More fireballs demanded. 

The spiders had summoned enough courage. 

They charged the troop. 

The first two spiders attacked at the sides in a pincer movement. 

"They're coordinated!" Perseus shouted out in shock. 

"Aim spears at their eyes and let loose arrows, fire at will," the Sergeant picked up a spear which was embedded behind the defence wall, ready for use. 

The Sergeant saw a number of spears thrown, and bouncing away from the hard body of the spiders.

One of the men overextended themselves and exposed themselves outside of the shield wall, just for an instant. It was enough, one of the spiders plucked him away from his comrades. He was lifted up, shouting and swearing, swiping with his sword. 

The spider scurried off with the shouting soldier into darkness. 

The Sergeant focused on the middle spider drew his arm back, settled the spear, aiming at the spider. 

He held his aim and threw the spear. 

There was an almighty squeal from the spider, when his spear made contact, the tip of his spear pierced through the centre of the cluster of eyes. 

The other two spiders seemed angered by this and they charged with abandon. They lunged straight into the spear wall, but it didn't perturb them, they seemed to nimbly weave their way through the sharp spears, despite their relative large sizes. 

The spiders crashed into the locked shield wall next. Men groaned as they strained under the weight of the creatures. Hairy legs prodded and searched for weaknesses in the defences. 

Another man was plucked up from the defensive line and tossed aside by the spider. He was heard screaming as he was dragged away. 

The spiders were organised and determined; they were working as a team just like the soldier troop was. 

A whoosh of a fireball soared overhead, a lucky aim Indeed, because it burst straight on top of the distressed spider, with the Sergeant's spear in its eyes; dousing it in oil and flame. 

The giant spider let out an almighty screech, causing men to cover their ears.

The men defending against the spiders had no such luxury. They roared in pain under the several tonnes of weight the spiders brought to bear. 

The far side of the defensive circle thinned out, soldiers crossed to defend their fellows, bravely wading in to stab and swipe at the hairy legs which swung this way and that. 

A soldier was squirted with a silken stream from the spider's rear spinnerets. He shouted out in horror as it pinned his arms to his chest. 

Two fellow soldiers helped to cut him loose with their dirks before he could be plucked up and dragged away. They fended off the hairy legs of the spider with their weapons and shields. 

Flaming torches were stabbed at the spiders, the troop had recovered from the disarray of their defensive wall. They surrounded the two spiders, thrusting at them with sword, spear, and flaming torches. 

The spiders squealed in frustration, their fangs not long enough to reach their quarries. 

They struck out with their sharp legs, denting shields and sending men flying in all directions. 

Several more men were plucked up and stolen away by the monstrous creatures, sucked away into the darkness of the wood. 

Each time a man was taken the soldiers grit their teeth, tightened their defences even more, linking their shields and digging their sandals into the soil. They had to stick together, literally. These incredibly strong spiders could toss a muscular soldier into the air with no effort. 

As the men coordinated and learned, they found weaknesses. The greater number, bravery and coordination of the soldiers gave them a slight edge. 

They realised the weak spots were the joints of the legs, and the sockets to the body, the eyes, and the mouth. 

They struck at those spots with their spears, forcing the sharp points of the spears into those soft spots. 

The two giant spiders, whilst much larger, fearsome looking and deadly, were overwhelmed by these smaller bipedal human creatures armed with fire and sharp pointy things. 

"Right flank, drive your spears into the side," the Sergeant ordered. "Arrows into the eyes," he ordered a squad of bowmen who had assembled in front of the right spider. 

The spears crunched into the spider, forcing its head down, exposing its eyes, the bowmen had already drawn together and let loose a volley, for a bowman it was point blank, at a range of a matter of metres. 

All eight eyes were compromised, the arrows shredded into the spiders’ eyes, causing it to wail in agony and anguish.

"Mount it, stab from above, spears from below, drive it through the mouth!" The Sergeant ordered. 

He turned to the other spider, the spearmen were trying to repeat the tactic, but the spider seemed smarter than they gave it credit. 

It spun on itself, sweeping its legs around, knocking twelve soldiers from their feet all at once. 

It stabbed two of them in the gut with its legs, and pounced on a third, plunging its fangs into him, he screamed in agony; but the brave man drove his dirk straight upwards into the mouth of the spider, causing it to release a gush of dark disgusting fluid from its mouth. 

The spider wobbled and scudded to the side, its large legs scampering and careering it away. It crashed into a tree. 

Perseus surprised the Sergeant; with a sudden burst of bravery, he hadn't yet seen in the man before. A sneak and a cheek, yes indeed he was, a thief with the Graeae, yes indeed, but a brave warrior, he hadn't pinned on him.  

Perseus launched himself towards the spider, his mirrored shield slamming hard into the fangs, forcing them back. Perseus swung with his sword and severed the left pedipalp clean off. 

His sudden assault encouraged more soldiers to launch a fresh attack. They roared, charging the spider, with sword and spear. The Sergeant looked around them, wounded men in all directions, a good twenty men pinning the other spider down and skewering it, the third flaming spider dying in the distance. 

He looked out for other threats. Were there only three? Their defences had broken up. 

"All around defences," he spun to the men. "Tighten us up, fresh shield wall, in case more of those fuckers come," the soldiers who weren't immediately preoccupied jumped to his orders. 

He looked back to see Perseus and five other soldiers forcing the spider against a tree; pushing and driving spears, with all their strength, into the hard outer shell of the arachnid. 

The spider squealed, leading another soldier to plunge a spear right into its mouth, causing another deluge of dark goop to pour from its mouth. 

Another spear burst into the abdomen, causing it to rip open and discharge more fluid. 

Several more slashes and stabs and the giant spider rolled onto its side, its legs twitching convulsively, it's life ebbing away. 

"Launch another flare, let's get more fire in the air," he shouted out. 

A flare arrow launched upwards, there was a pause, too long. There was mostly silence, apart from the moans of the wounded. The spiders were dead and silent. 

Thirty seconds later there followed a whoosh above them, the fireball landed thirty marks from their position and it lit up a horrifying sight. 

A multitude of dark eyes, hairy legs, terrifying giant spiders, there were tens of them. They veered from the burst of flames but their intent was clear. 

"Shit," the Sergeant grumbled. Sweat poured from his forehead and stung his eyes. How the hell were they going to survive the night? The thought crossed his mind. 

"Tighten the defences, pull it in lads, wounded into the middle, give them weapons," the soldiers immediately obeyed his orders, tightening up, recovering, taking a sip of water, readying their defences for another onslaught. 

A horn sounded from behind, much closer this time. The Sergeant swung round to see a double path of torches had been lit all the way up from the beach to their position. 

"Bloody hell," the Corporal blurted out, "you seamen ain't half bad, daft as donkeys but ain't half bad," he greeted one of the captains as they jogged into the circle breathing heavily. 

"We've lit you a path back Master Perseus," the captain leaned towards, the spider gunk covered, Perseus, "the number of flares you lot were firing up had us worried. We figured either you wanted a fancy firework show or you were in the shit…" he broke off at the sight of the giant spiders. 

"What on Zeus is that monstrosity, what beastly evil is this?" He cried incredulously. "Shit, if we knew them giant spiders were out here, I don't think I would have convinced my crews to touch a foot on land, don't let 'em see it." 

Perseus approached and greeted him with a warm shake of hands. 

"Captain, are we glad to see you,"

"Glad maybe, but we wants us paying for this, we figured we can't have you dying and not getting us paid," he grimaced and started their way back down the path, which his sailors were busily hacking clear of undergrowth with long blades. 

The Sergeant immediately started to withdraw his troops under the cover of fire torches.

The giant spiders pursued them for some time, keeping a distance from the torchlight, but they gave up chase immediately when the woodland thinned out. 

The roars of relief as they trod on the sand was palpable. 

They set up a temporary defence on the beach, the sea lapped behind them. Moonlight danced across the waves. The sail ships, masts dropped, were silhouetted in the distance against the horizon of the moonlight night.  

"Back to the boats, I say," the captain encouraged. "Shall we call this madness off Master Perseus? We can find you a nice lass elsewhere, somewhere without this kind of business, what say you, Sir?" 

"We lost very good men tonight, too many Sir," the Sergeant grimaced as he looked between them. "I haven't done no headcount yet, but not even mentioning the wounded I reckon we've lost at least a fifth of my men."

Perseus visibly paled in the moonlight. 

"We must go on chaps, for glory, we must kill this Medusa. The witch is undoubtedly behind this abhorrent evil here. We cannot let it stand," Perseus spoke boldly.

"Then let's go back to the mainland and assemble a proper army Sir, I'll help you recruit it," the Sergeant responded with a glower.

"With what money?" Perseus glowered. "This expedition is all my money, let's return to the boats and make a new plan. There was a desert on the other side of the island. Let's try that approach tomorrow, I doubt the spiders will be out in the open in daylight. Perhaps we can find another route to Medusa's cave."

The Sergeant grimaced but nodded. 

"Right lads, we're loading onto the boats, salted meat for all tonight," there was a tired cheer from the troop and they got straight to work. 

*

Azrael panted, leaning against the stone outcropping of the cave entrance. 

He looked back over his shoulder; down the very steep scree incline of the rocky hill he had climbed. 

The cave entrance was embedded and carved through the cliff rockface. He looked across the vista of the treetop canopy, he could see the deep, dark and dense woodland that he had lightly sprinted through. 

He could see the glowing torches of the troop following their withdrawal back towards the beach, the path of torches was starting to extinguish itself through the woodland back to the beach. 

He knew that he was alone up here now. He regained his breath. 

He had split up from Lander several marks after leaving the troop, they had decided it would be faster to reconnoitre ahead separately. 

Azrael had not come into contact with anything, he had heard the oddest sounds in the wood though, he had heard scrabbling and shuffling along the ground and the trees; but he had left it all behind as soon as he reached the rocky climb of the hill.

He had heard Lander's scream and then the sounds of battle behind him, but by then he had been too deep into the woodland already to turn back.

He knew not what had caused the kerfuffle; but he knew that the troop had come under some strain when the flagship catapult had been called in to provide artillery support. That was some expensive payload they had launched. They didn’t call on that kind of firepower lightly.

The withdrawal of the troop to the beach was also unexpected, he had never witnessed their troop having to retreat from a fight before; without a severe reason. They were a battle-hardened bunch, as hardened as mercenaries came. A worthy foe was in that woodland, perhaps their adversary had set an ambush and the troop was regrouping. 

However, he knew that his mission was to locate the cave, Medusa's cave.  

He looked at the wall entrance and saw intricate patterns carved into the walls. 

It looked like he had come to the right place, it appears that humans or something sentient dwelled here; or had dwelled here.

He glared inside but could only see darkness ahead of him. He could feel warm air drifting out from the cave entrance.

He reached for his bow and quickly lit a flare arrow. 

He drew his bow and fired the flare into the air above him. 

*

An hour or two into the work of loading onto the boats one of their scouts spotted a fire arrow arcing through the air, a flare, right far up the hill in the distance, right up by the caves that were their ultimate destination. 

"Look," Perseus pointed in surprise. "Is it possible that is one of ours?"

"Very possible," the Sergeant looked up in amazement, "I'd be willing to bet my entire expedition pay on that flare being the work of Azrael, our finest scout," they made eye contact. 

"That must mean…"

"It's possible to get up to them caves without being munched right up by a herd of them giant spiders," the Sergeant finished Perseus' thought process. He nodded. 

"Yes, but perhaps it's easier for one light footed man, than a whole troop of soldiers tramping through the wood," Perseus stated. 

"There weren't no tramping goin’ on boy, it's the sheer size of our troop, my men be the finest…" 

"I know, but my point being that if we go much more quietly, then we stand a chance… perhaps I should just go alone…" Perseus started forwards with a look that the Sergeant knew far too well. 

"Strike that insane brave look off your young face Sir, I know you be my boss on this expedition, you're the employer sir, but I ain't having you trampling through the woodland on ye own," he grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back and shook him slightly. "Get that thought outta ye head Sir," the Sergeant had never called him Sir before, the best he had got was Master or Laddie. Had he earned a glimmer of respect from the Sergeant at arms? 

"But I can't risk the deaths of all of these men, whether I'm paying or not. I didn't know that there would be these giant creatures here. The most I thought would be here would be a fire vagabonds, some pirate encampment, squatters… you know, the like," 

"None of us knew that," the Sergeant looked at him for an instant as an equal. "I suspect that the benevolent king who sent you on this fool's errand is the only one who knew how treacherous it was. Is there a chance mayhap that he doesn't want you to succeed on this foolish endeavour?"

Perseus tore his eyes away from the hill and made eye contact with the Sergeant. He nodded lightly. The Sergeant didn’t mince his words.

"It's possible… yes, but what about Azrael?"

"He's a strong lad, as you've just witnessed, but I can't risk marching me whole troop through that cursed woodland again tonight. Not just for one man, if it were me up there, I'd expect the same…" his eyes grew distant for a moment, perhaps an old memory plagued him there and then. 

"No, sir, we'll respond with an arrow, tell him we've seen him, but we're loading on them boats, and we are going to plan a sensible approach once day breaks, not before and we are going to plan a sensible approach."

*

Azrael watched the troop at the beach for a few moments and saw a fiery streak shoot up from the ground into the sky. They had seen his flare. They knew his position. 

Azreal glanced back into the cave, considering his next move. 

Something called to him from within. 

"Azrael," the voice called. "Azrael…" it sounded like the wind, but he swore he heard his name. 

"Who's there?" He called out. There was silence, but he felt a sudden urge to enter the cave.

He resisted, he stood firm, he would stand his post until the troop guided him in. 

"Azrael, the brave, come, come within," the voice called, compelling him. The urge grew stronger, it felt like it was almost literally tugging him inside. 

Azrael lifted a torch which was strapped to his belt and struck an igniter, lighting the torch. It spluttered to life with a dancing orange flame. 

The firelight flickered eerie shadows which jumped and shifted across the cave walls. Azrael took a tentative step forward. Then another step, and then some more, until he was working his way through the twisting and turning stone corridor.

Tales of Myth and Legend

Chapter 6 – Medusa’s Cave

By Richard C.H. Davies

Warning this story contains: Giantess witch, fantasy fiction, Shrunken Man, giantess, kidnap, giant woman lick, soft vore, naked giantess, chase, hard vore, giant spiders, handheld, taunting, entrapment, warfare and action

Azrael – Entrance to the caves on the hill

Azrael very carefully picked his way through the entrance of the cave. 

He left the chill air of the night behind him as he felt warm air billowing outwards and washing across his face and neck. 

Something was definitely inside this cave. He could smell it in the air. He could have sworn he caught a whiff of incense burning, perhaps some Frankincense and some other oils.  

He stepped forwards with his sandals, reached down to his utility belt and lifted a torch. He struck his lighting flint and the torch flickered to life. 

Azrael held the torch ahead of him, in one hand, and his short sword in the other; as he proceeded through the winding tunnel entrance of the cave. 

After a few marks he felt like something ethereal was tugging at him, drawing him further in, compelling him to proceed. 

A voice whispered to life in his head, breaking the silence. He stopped dead in his tracks and listened.

It sounded faint and feminine, indeed the more he seemed to concentrate the more the whispers died away until he heard nothing at all. 

He waited in silence, waiting for the mysterious voice to speak again. He only heard his own breathing. He wondered if he had imagined it. 

He frowned and then proceeded forward again. 

"Welcome, Azrael of Thoricus," the whispered voice suddenly spoke, but it wasn't from within the cave. It felt like the voice was inside his own head. 

"How do you know my name?" He stopped dead and spoke back out loud. 

"I know many things, Azrael of Thoricus, master scout." He was taken aback, the voice was clearer in his head now. A female voice, that spoke with confidence and conviction. 

He wondered if it was wise to proceed any further, but the feeling tugging at him compelled him further inside. He felt an overwhelming feeling of calm and peace take hold of him. 

"You need not your sword or your torch," the voice continued, as he exited the tunnel and beheld a wide open chamber carved inside the rock of the cave. It was a huge internal cavernous space. 

The ground was generally flat and worn rock, ornate columns of stone projected from floor to ceiling, and the cave walls and columns were lined with flickering torches which were aflame with an eerie greeny orange light. 

Magic was afoot inside this place. He knew it to be true. He had never witnessed magic for himself, but what he was seeing with the flames wasn't natural, and the feeling of being pulled and the voices in his head all led him to suspect it. 

He felt himself being pulled further and further along. 

"You may sheath your sword and douse your torch, Azrael of Thoricus," the voice spoke to him. 

He complied immediately, looking around in wonder at the magnitude of the cavernous space. 

The air was warm and dry, it felt homely, but the torchlight flickering along the walls gave it an eerie atmosphere, creating dancing shadows along the craggy rock ceiling and walls. 

"Come, Azrael of Thoricus," the female voice beckoned him in his head. 

He strode forwards, looking behind columns and up at the ceiling. He was half expecting to be jumped by some kind of vagabond. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. 

He passed numerous stone columns, and a stone wellspring in the centre of the chamber. 

He stopped at the edge of the wellspring and peered downwards. He saw only darkness. 

He turned to look further along the cavern. At the far end there were long stone steps, leading up to some kind of stone altar. 

The altar was utilitarian and did not display any ornaments or articles of worship. 

There was a corridor to the side of the altar. 

"What is this place?" He called out. His voice echoed and reverberated around the cavern. 

"Gorham's cave… some call it," the female voice purred in his head.

Azrael kept moving forwards. He was none the wiser about this place; upon hearing its name. It was unlike any cave he had seen before and he had seen many. 

"Come to our chamber, a little further," the female voice called him. 

Azrael placed his sandal tentatively on the first stone step. 

It was firm and there were no booby traps in sight. 

He proceeded up the steps, keeping his stance low and ready for a fight. 

He reached the top and examined the altar. It was stained with faded blood. He could not tell if it was human or animal. 

He looked around for evidence of sacrifice but could find none. 

Animal sacrifice, especially of oxen, goats, and sheep were not uncommon in Ancient Greek society. Sacrifices took place within a sanctuary, usually at an altar in front of the temple, with the assembled participants consuming the entrails and meat of the victim. 

Azrael was not overly concerned by the sight of this blood stained altar; but he remained wary all the same. The lack of articles of worship was a red flag.  

He crept past the altar and entered the corridor. It was sharply carved in the stone cave but utilitarian in finish. 

There were a series of doorways connected to the corridor, but he saw light flooding out of the first one. 

The doorway was covered by a set of fabric curtains. 

"You may enter," spoke the female voice in his head. 

Azrael gently pushed the curtains open as he passed through the doorway and was stunned at what he saw inside. 

He saw not a hideous monster, as he was primed to behold. He was expecting the legendary Medusa, a Gorgon monstrosity with a head of living snakes and eyes shining white. 

Instead, he saw a glimmering living room, surrounded by treasure. It was lined with gold, silver, bronze, and many other materials of wealth. 

It looked like the treasure had started to be stacked and displayed neatly but over the years it had multiplied and then just been put on top of each other.