Curses of Olympus (The Olympus Trilogy #2)

26. Icarus

26

ICARUS

R ain pelts Icarus and Amara as they sail through the sky with a small group of the Rebel Taskforce. She rolled her eyes when Telegonus revealed the name he came up with for their unit, if you can even call it that.

Groups are sent out daily to hunt for rebels, and the rest times between missions is rapidly shrinking. Exhaustion weighs Icarus down along with the soaking wet rain.

What an abysmal day to be flying. Thank the Fates Zeus has all the Heroes warded from lightning, but you would think he could have thrown in some rain protection with it.

“Down there!” Telegonus calls out. At least Icarus thinks that’s what he said.

With the wind in her ears, and the rain, she cannot comprehend how he expects anyone to know what he is saying.

This time, being the right hand of Athena’s number one soldier has been interesting to say the least. Icarus does not like to let her pride reach boastful levels, but after several days in close proximity to him, it is clear why Athena was so excited by Icarus’s performance in the arena.

Perhaps he is incredibly strong, or has a brilliant mind when necessary, but Icarus does not see it. His one tru talent, however, is hunting rebels. No matter how cleverly they are hiding, Telegonus roots them out every single time. The only thing he hasn’t managed to find is their base.

Their group descends to the ground below, and Icarus hangs back observing the situation as Telegonus approaches the small campfire with five adults huddled around it, swords drawn.

“Afternoon, folks. What brings you out to the edges of the world on this fine, rainy day?” Telegonus asks. His teeth look almost canine through his grin, which is anything but friendly.

“We got stranded here. It was a shipwreck. Thank the gods, you found us!” A woman steps forward, tears streaming down her face. “Please help us.”

Telegonus narrows his eyes and looks around the small beach. “I see no wreckage. No shattered cargo containers, ropes, nets.”

She spots movement from the corner of her eye a good bit from the campfire. She can barely make out shadows moving along the rocky edge at the base of a shallow cliff. All eyes are still on the exchange with Telegonus, so she silently pulls Amara from the group. When she is out of sight, she kicks her heels and her pegasus takes off, flying around the outer rim of the tiny island until they reach the other side.

Amara lands on the rocky beach, and Icarus slides off. Her armored footsteps are heavy and sink into the sand as she walks. A small cave appears before her. It looks undisturbed, but her gut says to look inside. She pushes down the memories of the last time she was in a cave with rebels.

Inside is pitch black. Holding up her left palm, she calls forth a small flame to use for light. When she looks up, there is a man staring at her, hand on his sword, and several children.

“Please. They’re just children,” the man says. His eyes are kind, and his dark curly hair is damp from the rain.

Icarus wants to vomit as the illusion of what her life would be like as a Hero comes crashing down around her. This is not what she signed up for. All she ever wanted to do was help people and give back.

“Just tell me one thing,” Icarus says, biting through every word as a war rages inside her. “Why are you doing this? Is it worth risking your children just because the gods have more power than you?”

The man tilts his head and drops his hand away from his sword. “Do you really think that is the reason we are fighting?”

Icarus narrows her eyes. “What other reason could you have? The gods provide everything we need, even down to the season to grow our crops.”

“Your crops? Or their crops? How can you overlook everything they have done? And fight in their name? You think you are a hero, but tell me this. Do heroes kill children?”

He may as well have hit Icarus in the chest with a sledgehammer. She shakes her head.

“You listen to me, hero . You need to think long and hard about why so many people would rather die than continue to be oppressed under the Pantheon’s heel.” Icarus can see the man trying to remain calm so as not to scare the children, but the rage simmering in his eyes in unmistakable.

One of the children lets out a sob and that is the final straw for her heart. She does not know what this will mean for her future, but she will not allow Telegonus to hurt these innocents.

“I will try to direct them away from this cave if they go searching for others. I cannot do much about your friends on the beach.”

The man hangs his head. “They knew their fates when they stayed there to be a decoy for the kids.”

Icarus nods heavily and turns to walk out of the cave as the man says, “My name is Cyril.”

He walks up behind her, and she stiffens at the threat but does not reach for her weapon. She feels a rustling at her hand and looks down as he slides a piece of paper into it.

“I can tell when someone’s heart is on our side. Should you choose to follow it, you will find me here tomorrow.”

Icarus unfolds the small piece of paper and discovers a crude map hastily drawn.

“The rest will have returned, but I will be there.”

Icarus does not say a word as she walks out of the cave. Amara is still waiting for her several steps from the cave’s entrance. As she is mounting, Telegonus and the rest of their group land beside her.

“We took care of the scum on the beach. Did you find anything else?”

Icarus swallows and steadies her breathing as her heart thunders in her ears. “No, all clear.”

The pegasuses take to the air, and Icarus clutches the small map tightly against the reins until her knuckles are white.