Serpents of War

(This is an edited version of an idea of mine for Medusa. It lacks some story and imagery details, and some scenes were shortened from the longer version. I tried to keep the main premise to see if this has potential.)

A thousand years was long enough for anyone to forget what it meant to be human. If so, what of two or three thousand years? How long does one submit to their lot in life and stay sane? What was the definition of ‘sanity’, anyway? She felt it must be, in its simplest form, the ability to know oneself.

Medusa glared hard at the mirror’s reflection of her bright green eyes, trying her best to remember if that was their original color.

Somewhere in the dark corners of this mountain cellar, this rock prison, this cave, a drop splashed into a large pool. Moist sea air blew deep enough into her home and momentarily altered the stagnant scent of these old rock walls. Her candles flickered and the salty breeze tickled her skin. A welcome change to her solitude. Even if only brief.

What if I am not sane? What if I really lost who I was long ago and now I am this? Fingers gently glided down the mirror and she shuddered at her visage. With a jerk, she recoiled from her image. The sharp movement provoked a set of irritated hisses from above her.

The harsh sound echoed off the stone walls of the cave, like dragging scales across loose rocks; the sound fell in waves. Apologetically, she reached up to steady the team of serpents writhing.

“Sorry babies. It’s okay, Lyssa, Metis, Orphne.” Medusa crooned as she gently passed delicate fingers through the coils atop her head. Several heads purposefully slid under her hand like cats desiring affection. One of the larger ones moved to catch his mother’s attention and his mouth parted gingerly. Medusa could see the concern. “I know Artemis, I just don’t feel myself today.”

Artemis’ tongue flicked hesitantly, as if her answer added to his worry. Yet he gave a brief nod and returned to rest against her. The others watched their interaction and when Artemis settled onto her, they collectively eased. Satisfied that their mother was not further agitated, they all settled back into place, their dark mass returned to a shape resembling long wavy hair. The longer serpents stretched down and laid across her shoulders. When they rested like this, it reminded her of the hair styles popular with her original era. How did I like to wear my hair? With effort, she tried to remember her own image from that time.

I can’t remember what my hair looked like. Her face fell. Maybe that’s all the proof I need. I no longer know that woman, and my mind is no longer hers. She is gone and I am truly insane.

Am I truly nothing more than a monster? She tried smiling and held it for inspection. Her fangs hardly resembled what the legends had painted them to be, and despite the fierceness it gave her, they blended into her mouth normally. Her soft tan skin remained unaltered, nor was she as disfigured as stories had told. Maybe the one thing she didn’t regret was that her aquiline facial features were still pleasant within the frame of serpents, and her emerald eyes still had the allure they had when she was a woman. Thaleia drew in her mother’s smile and moved to her cheek, quietly approving her mom’s image. Medusa winked at her and Thaleia slid back into position.

This brought an old, ever-present, desire from the depths. She had once been held warmly up against someone. Arms encircling her and pulling her closer. Lips playing along her skin and the warm breath of a man caressing it in shudder-inducing delight. Hands searching, groping, finding.

An ecstasy never to be felt again.

Medusa’s eyes began moving down her image. Without her golden collar on she could clearly see the scar from her beheading. Her hand caressed along it and then slid down her throat to her naked chest, sliding between her breasts and continuing till her fingers laid across her abdomen. Where the fingers stopped—her eyes continued—to where the skin melded into cold brown and gray scales.

Athena’s final injustice. She sneered at her full image and her tail writhed with her anger. Take my womanhood from me, and leave me disfigured, alone, and unloved.

In disgust she closed her eyes, sank into her coils, and rested her chin on her crossed arms. Within the mirror she could see the delicate curve of her shoulders and the slim physique of her upper body. At least she was gracious enough to let me look like a woman still.

The clack of rocks being disturbed from the cave entrance announced the presence first.

Lyssa shot up, Artemis and Phylax moved in front of her and Orphne recoiled into the others. Metis crept out, his mischievous little eyes searching for any commotion.

“Medy.” The call echoed down the cave corridors.

All the snakes settled back. It was the voice of a friend.

“I am in my room.” She called back.

A few seconds later the head of a bull poked around a set of stalagmites, carefully turned to look towards the wall. Her only friend, the only person in this whole world keeping her from being fully alone, was the Minotaur. Larger than most men, he dwarfed her in comparison of body size.

He had taught himself to avoid her gaze and she had finally been able to keep a friend that didn’t become a rock figurine. With clever ways of hiding his head, he lived mostly on ships from the mainland. Only coming by every month or more when the island received a new shipment of goods.

“I am glad you are here, Mino.” She felt her spirit rise a little. “I have felt so alone lately.” She slithered up behind him and gently touched his shoulder to let him know where she was. This allowed him to begin looking around without fear of catching her gaze. She could feel Metis start to drift toward Mino and had to quietly pull him back.

Minos, or Mino as he liked to be called to avoid the reminder of his step-father, turned his large black head to look into her cave, or ‘room’ as she called it, illuminated by the soft glow of candles.

“I see you have a new mirror since the last time I visited.” He observed. “Your last few days must not be too bad if this one has survived.”

She tried to make herself laugh at his joke, but only succeeded in a pathetic hiccup like noise. “I don’t think this one has anything to fear.” She tried to match his jovial attitude. “I feel like I am getting better.”

“You think you have that temper under control?”

“Yes.” She answered tentatively.

His reference hit a truth she hoped would eventually fade to a distant memory. At some point she would see herself and be in just the right mood. Without provocation or remorse, she would launch into a rage and smash the loathsome image. All these outbursts ended the same though. Her, laying amongst her coiled tail, and sobbing inconsolably.

“Yes, well let me know when it does feel your wrath and I will assist you in retrieving another.” Minos said. “I love going into the towns the day after your raids.”

“Why is that?”

“The legends of these mirrors are becoming wilder and more exciting.”

“So, I have heard. The last one had me as a mermaid that grows legs on dry land, wanders through the streets naked, and mates with a man in exchange for a mirror.”

“Well, they got the scales and nudity right.” Minos chuckled. “You think you would cover up when in the towns.”

The slap on the back made him bellow a laugh.

“How would you know?”

“Easy; I carefully follow your tail up and stop before your head.” He snorted excitedly. “With your proportions, I can see why they forget about the serpent tail.”

“I may need you to be blindfolded from here on out.” She playfully shook her head. “What news, outside of me, has spread to your bovine ears now?”

Reaching into a satchel bag, he produced a thick wad of newspaper. She pulled the top leaf off and unfolded it. She scanned the bold lettered banner heralding a Greek news company, and checked the date. 13 May 1940. Under that was an image of several soldiers and a headline. Mino explained the text was announcing a possible invasion of this island.

Metis moved up next to her face, and his beady eyes narrowed in concentration as his head seemed to follow each sentence line. She knew he didn’t understand a single word, and dryly scrutinized his attempt from the corner of her eyes.

“A war is coming this way.” Mino said seriously. “The strange modern machines of flight have been seen in battle among the clouds. Chariots that mimic Troy’s legendary horse carry men in long lines like ants, and all their weapons crack and boom with the thunder of the gods. I often see giant metal ships the likes I have never traveled on, stay in the docks on the mainland.”

“Ships like the ones in the ports?” Medusa asked.

“No, these have been called ‘battleships’ by the men in the cities. From what I have seen of them, they are much larger, sharper, and easily fit their name. These ships carry many cannons, some that stretch the distance of this cave, and can fire arrows of metal the size of these.” He said, slapping his hand against a stalagmite.

Eyes wide with marvel, she ran her hand along the massive stone spike. “This generation of people create marvels that match the gods.”

“The men in the city are preparing as well. Soldiers of their country have been arriving on these large vessels. Each of them carries the same modern weapons and guns we’ve seen before.”

“Interesting. Where are these armies staging for battle?”

“That is also different. Most are taking residence within the city. Occupying many places large enough to hold hundreds of men.”

“Hmm. They do not camp as men once did on large fields?”

“No, they seem to fortify themselves within structures they either build for the fighting or from the very city they defend.”

She rubbed her chin in thought. “I am going out tonight. I must see this with my own eyes.”

“Careful, Medy, they practice patrols and will likely be alert. If you should accidentally petrify one, or they should catch sight of you…”

“I will be cautious and stay in the shadows, as I am accustomed to. No one will see me, and if they do, it will just become part of the mermaid legend again.”

Mino’s ear flicked. “I hope you are right.” Mino turned and his bull snout lifted to expose some teeth in his version of a smile. “Will you be clothed this time?”

She smiled wryly at him.

“I actually don’t own any.” She said slyly and let the tip of her tail wrap around his ankle and tighten. “I find clothes too constricting.”

***

The city was unusually dark this night with very few lamps illuminating small pockets of the empty quiet streets. Usually there were modest groups of people drinking wine, laughing, singing, and dancing. For a moment, she felt a sad longing. The merriment was something she enjoyed watching from the dark corners she would tuck herself into.

It was not till she got closer to the port of the city that her ears picked up voices and small amounts of clatter. She made her way down to the docks where large looming shadows towered in the sea, swaying in slow rocking motions as light waves splashed against them. The scent of ocean and oil mixed in the air.

Hiding behind a couple barrels, she looked out at a group of five soldiers standing around talking with small flames of red held to their face.

The men’s tones were boisterous, and every so often let out sharp laughter. The language was foreign, but she could recognize the undertones of emotion within the conversation. Men on the eve of battle often covered fear with any action that could overwhelm these emotions with another. Drowning out their anxiousness with singing, booze, laughter, and sex.

Mino was right. War was definitely coming, and these men knew it.

The men continued talking and presently she felt she could glean nothing else from this group. Turning to leave, she startled a rat in the alley, and it ran past her towards a dilapidated cart of hay. From her right a streak of black and white shot forth and tackled the rodent. The rat squeaked loudly as the cat clamped its jaws around the neck, and the vermin fought to free itself. It all might have gone unnoticed if it had not been for the collision the two animals had with the pitchfork leaning against the wall.

As the tool loudly clattered on to the stone surface, Lyssa hissed in fierce annoyance, and the feline immediately ceased its attack at the fear evoking sound. As the rat scampered off with its life the cat bristled and gave a guttural growl of warning and slowly paced away from Medusa.

A voice rose into the night from one of the men. An obvious question or challenge.

She moved swiftly towards the back of the alley and placed herself behind a stack of boxes.

Two shadows entered the alleyway, and she quietly tried to keep them in view through a slit between the boxes. One of them was holding one of the long rifles up across his chest while the other held a much smaller object. It resembled the rifle enough that Medusa knew it was a weapon, only able to be held in one hand.

They had stopped and were staring into the dark trying to see what the cat was in fear of. Unable to see clearly, she shifted slightly to peer out of a larger opening between the boxes and the wall. The cat caught sight of Lyssa again and hissed. Orphne tried to tuck herself behind Medusa’s ear, Phylax covered her and flicked his tongue annoyingly at Lyssa. Unable to control her living head piece, Medusa cringed as Lyssa hissed back at the cat, ready for combat.

Without warning one of the men held up a strange silver contraption and, with an audible click, turned the tube into a blinding light. The light splashed across her hiding place and the exposed Lyssa. The serpent snapped to the men and went nearly erect in challenge. Medusa had to pull her down, and she could feel Orphne shudder. That was when things got worse.

Both men raised their weapons toward her lithe serpent hair and with deafening cracks—the likes of Zeus’s lightning—fired. Something solid hit the wall near her and ricocheted into her shoulder the other struck her tail.

It felt like fire had pierced her and she hollered in pain, and all her snakes awoke with loud raspy complaints. In rage, she flung the boxes away from her and rose up in height.

Both men reacted in shock and fell backwards and one began crawling away, while the other stood stupefied at the sight. Unable to tear their eyes away, the crawling one locked eyes with Medusa and all his fleeing ceased, the fear now locked in place upon a stoney visage.

Her eyes panned down and fell onto the other man still standing in awe. As he petrified the small fireless lamp, he had been holding, fell to the ground, and rolled away causing shadows to shift and move.

Her eyes were still blazing with anger as the other three men rounded the corner only to find their comrades turned to statues, and by appearance, a beautiful naked woman screaming angrily and inspecting a wound at her shoulder.

One of them chivalrously began taking his coat off and running towards her to clothe her till he noticed her full body. Unable to comprehend what would happen his eyes ran up from her serpent tail, along her female torso, into her dark eyes, and instantly became the third statue. One of the other two raised his rifle and put its sight right on Medusa’s face and, from then on, would forever hold that pose. The last man may not have understood what was causing his friends to become these statues, but he did know that he needed to run.

Darting away at full speed he ran down the street crying out the same phrase over and over again. Medusa didn’t need it translated. She had heard it enough over her lifetime that it was always the same concept— Monster. There is a monster here.

And she fled.

Between the pain in her body, and the replay of each moment, she found herself unable to stop tears from coming. It hurt. To know that in one horrible night, the old days were coming back.

She would be hunted again.