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.