Poseidon's Wrath by Amanda Witow

Author:Amanda Witow [Witow, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fantasy
Publisher: Prairie Owl Publishing
Published: 2018-08-15T06:00:00+00:00

The sun had begun its slow slide into the sea by the time Damien was ready to head back to the Wilting Marmayd. He hadn’t discovered much from talking to several guards. Most remembered the death of the siren, though with no body, and the surviving sisters leaving Methoni, not much had ever come of it. The guards were much more interested in talking about the fools bested by a turtle.

People scurried by as he meandered through the streets. It was an odd sensation to be so far removed from the worries and fears gripping Methoni. He knew the Ottomans were expected to attack any day, and yet, it felt like a nebulous thing to him. He and his companions would be gone before the city could be besieged. It felt like such a certainty he didn’t even question his assumption.

Vendors called out in last, desperate attempts to sell their wares. Many of them wore patched clothes and had pinched cheeks. None of the people scurrying home even paused to glance at the items on display.

A flash of red caught Damien’s eye. He turned to see a woman with a red scarf tied around her hair ducking down an alley. She was gone too quickly for him to make out anything more, but the tightening in his gut whispered Atalanta.

Damien turned into the alley. It was a narrow passage that cut off the fading sunlight within two paces of entering. He placed a hand on the rough brick to his left and followed it deeper. Some sense of danger stopped him from calling out. He paused and drew his sword before continuing on.

After twenty paces the alley split into two paths. The sounds of the city were distant and muffled, and only his footsteps rustling through light debris stirred the shadows. Atalanta, or whomever he had mistaken for her, was either too distant or too quiet for him to hear. Damien squinted down each branch.

The path to the right widened slightly, but continued on in darkness. The path to the left had a faint, flickering light beckoning at the end. He couldn’t imagine any reputable business or home being accessible by such dark and narrow alleys. Would Atalanta have sought out such a place? Part of him said she was a thief and a vagrant, but another part said she was a kind-hearted woman.

He turned toward the light. Damien almost convinced himself that he chose it simply because he was tired of the dark. It took longer than he expected to reach, and when he did he was surprised to see a wide courtyard lined with stalls and doors. A collection of shacks clustered in the middle of the open space, leaning on one another like drunks stumbling out of a tavern. Somehow, the sky above was pure black.

People in drab clothes moved about the space, speaking quietly to one another. Damien sheathed his sword and stepped further into the courtyard. Even travel-stained and torn in places, his clothes were nicer than those worn by anyone else in the space.

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