It was useless arguing with these women. As the pirate craft nosed near, I began to chant the song of my ancestors. At least that might instill some spirit in my two attendants.

  Was it luck, what happened next? I don’t know. The waves grew, washing against our tubby merchant ship. We wallowed, and that might have been the end, but the pirates’ approach became more difficult. They had to stop rowing and begin bailing or they’d flounder before they reached us.

  Asterion noticed all right. Aloud, he begged Boreas, the god of the North Wind, to blow us out of danger.

  The only thing that happened was a lessening of the size of the waves.

  Asterion hurried to me, gripping my left arm, pulling me from the rail. “You must speak to the Minotaur. Beg for aid.”

  I stared at Asterion in wonderment. “The Minotaur is in Knossos, not here with us.”

  “Beg him,” Asterion hissed. “He’s given you a mission. This I know. The Minotaur can grant power from afar.”

  I pulled my arm from Asterion. So, he’d known more than he’d let on. Why all the questions earlier? I shook my head. That didn’t matter.

  I wouldn’t cry out like a frightened girl to the Minotaur. I was on his mission, yes, but I’d trust in my own limbs. I thought that even as my heart beat harder as the cockleshell of a galley began nearing us again.

  They no longer needed to bail, but rowed once more. The pirates kept craning to look over their shoulders at us. Their captain urged them on, no doubt waxing eloquent about the wealth that awaited them.

  I eyed him.

  The pirate captain wore a helmet with boar tusks sticking outward and had a corselet of metal rings, a prince’s prize. He must be a mighty warrior to have such armor.

  The others wore rags or nothing at all, a twist of cloth around their privates. Those were more skeletal than human, scavengers who hadn’t fed of late. I spied spears and knives among them, with only a few shields.

  I nodded. The pirate captain was a warrior. The rest were ruffians, sea-jackals. They’d know nothing of mercy and quarter. Therefore, this was a fight to the death. If I failed here, I’d fail my mission, and that I refused.

  It was eerie. As the pirates strove nearer for the final clutch, the hairs on the back of my neck rose. I swear I heard a distant call as from a bull’s horn.

  I turned in the direction of Knossos, turned in the direction of the Maze of the Dark One. The horn was a call to madness, to the joy of battle. I thought to spy a tiny clot like a bird, a swift creature. It arrowed toward me.

  The horn became loud, causing me to close my eyes. When I opened them, the clot, the bird, was gone. Something entered my heart. My eyes burned as passion and a feeling of power engorged me.

  I stalked upon the deck, back and forth, as one madly eager to fight. I noted the sailors shrinking from me, some making hand signs against evil.

  I went to Asterion, might have spoken to him, but I saw a great club among a pile of goods. I went to the pile, dropped my spear and picked up the club.

  The lookout shouted a warning.

  I turned.

  The pirates were almost upon us, their narrow galley about to crash against the tubby merchant vessel.

  With a roar of rage, I sprinted across the deck as one bereft of wits. I had the shield in one hand and the club in the other. I raced at the pirate ship. When I reached the railing, I leapt.

  Pirates looked up in alarm as I sailed toward them. The few still rowing dropped their oars. Those with weapons in hand snarled.

  I landed in the middle of the narrow galley so it swayed wildly. Pirates shouted in alarm. I swung left and right, the club thudding against a head, a back. A knife slashed against my shield. I struck him with the club. He flew against the tub’s hull, striking it with his forehead and falling into the sea. Once more, I swung left and right, knocking pirates, scattering them. The battle madness consumed me. I hurled my shield into a pirate’s face and grabbed the club with two hands. Standing in the cockleshell among the pirates, I clubbed with berserk fury. I bellowed as a bull, challenging those who would try to steal his harem of cows. Pirates fell into the sea, some senseless, some in fear and some having lost their balance.

  The pirate captain with princely armor and the boar-head helmet charged me down the length of narrow galley.

  I hurled my club. It hit him in the face. He went down. I drew my dagger of the fallen star and slashed, cutting skin. I stabbed into a gut. I hewed left and right.

  A blow struck my shoulder, a cunning stroke. My balance wavered.

  Pirates shouted in glee.

  Before I understood what I was doing, my legs propelled me as I dove cleanly into the water. I kicked, and though I clutched the dagger, I used my two hands to swim deep like a dolphin.

  At last, I surfaced.

  Pirates shouted and hurled spears at me. I hadn’t swam as far from their galley as I’d thought.

  I took a great gulp of air and drove again, swimming farther underwater from them.

  Once more, I surfaced.

  Many pirates floundered in the sea.

  Asterion’s two spearmen hurled their weapons, killing several pirates. They threw javelins after that, using the high deck of the merchant ship. More pirates toppled from the cockleshell vessel.

  Finally, the handful of surviving pirates picked up oars and turned their narrow galley, leaving the others splashing in the sea. That left the shouting, pleading pirates as easy targets for the javelins of the two warriors on the tub.

  I swam toward the merchant ship. Sadly, my two attendants floated face down in the sea.

  Asterion saw me, ran to the side and hurled a rope. He hauled me up, staring once I stood beside him on the deck.

  I’m afraid I grinned like a madman.

  He told me my attendants had jumped after me onto the pirate vessel, fighting valiantly. Unfortunately, they’d each received their death wound from the pirates.

  I nodded. They’d been good attendants and had fulfilled their purpose, helping to keep me alive. I’d miss them and would honor them.

  I staggered then as a great weariness swept over me. I slumped onto the deck.

  The feeling of arrogance and supremacy departed. Did I see a clot the size of a bird heading west?

  It certainly felt as if the fell spirit headed west. Had the power of the Minotaur overtaken me? Had he reached out with his spirit and given me a warrior’s zeal such as I’d never possessed before?

  I was tired and could barely move my limbs. I managed to sheath my dagger.

  Once again, Asterion changed course.

  The lookout yelled, spying three more cockleshell pirate galleys coming for us from the direction of land.

  Boreas must have finally heeded the captain’s earlier cry. The sail billowed and we headed south along the coast, leaving the pirate galleys behind.

  I was vaguely aware that Asterion wished to reach a seaport where he could trade his goods. There, I’d enter the land of Canaan to spy for Minos. Then, I’d begin my secret mission.

  I knew now that the power of the Minotaur would aide me in times of peril. Was that good or bad? I wasn’t sure.

  In my own spirit, I mourned the loss of my two attendants. I felt sorrow that from this point on I’d have to go on the adventure alone.

  I sighed. I’d survived the pirates, and I’d learned something of my destiny as I sought the acolyte of the strange god.

  Chapter Four

  The wind blew steadily for the next few hours. We eased away from the coast because Asterion didn’t trust the waters near shore.

  Asterion spoke with the cargo master to determine the safest port of call. The cargo master suggested we go all the way to the delta of Egypt. Asterion shook his head. He didn’t care to travel so far west. Was there a nearer port?

  As the two debated, the clouds began to darken.

  I’d grown weary of the talk and still felt tired from the aftereffects of battle. I drank several cups of wine and started yawning.

  I slipped below deck out of the chill air and crawled between bales of sheepskin. There, I fell into a deep sleep.

  My dreams must have been troubled. I don’t recall much except for a dark eye in a cave. It called and demanded I fulfill my oath.

  I awoke and realized I must have been dreaming about the Minotaur—or worse, he’d spoken to me through his dark arts, his magic.

  A feeling of unease grew. I believed it the effect of the dream. Then I became aware of the rocking tub. Waves buffeted us.

  Men shouted above, it seemed in fear.

  The cargo master, a stout man from a region near Sparta, jumped down, spying me. Had he been searching for me? “How can you sleep at a time like this? We’re in danger.”

  I rubbed sleep from my eyes, standing, hunching in the low-ceilinged area. I didn’t care for his rudeness. I was the warrior that had saved the ship. I put a hand on the hilt of my sheathed dagger. It was belted at my waist.

  The cargo master looked at it and then me. Some of the arrogance left his bearded features.

  “Captain Asterion…requests your presence above. We have a decision to make.”

  He hurried out of the hold before I could reply.

  I crab-walked to a place I could fully stand. The two ship warriors hailed me from the main deck. I reached up. They each grabbed a hand and hauled me up.

  In that moment as I stood beside them, it felt as if they planned to wrestle my arms behind my back.

  Before they tried, I wrenched one arm free and yanked the other, glaring at them.

  I could see the debate in their eyes. Would they accost me?

  I stepped back, giving myself room to draw my dagger.

  “The captain wishes to speak with you,” one said.

  I grew aware of the dark clouds and lightening flashing in the distance. The wind blew strong, whistling at times. I was shocked to discover the sail furled tight against the yardarm.

  Did Asterion fear the wind?

  From what I could tell, we were far at sea. I saw no sign of land and the waves were rough. That’s right. They’d rocked the tubby vessel, waking me.

  Could the waves swamp the merchant ship?

  Staggering across the pitching deck, I went to Asterion as he stood at the tiller. He leaned hard against it, fighting the power of the growing storm.

  It was several moments before he noticed me. When he did, he glared in accusation.

  “What’s wrong?” I shouted.

  “What have you done to my ship?”

  “I? Nothing.” How could he think I had anything to do with the wind and storm?

  “This is evil weather,” he said.

  I silently agreed with that. I was starting to feel sick from being tossed about. Perhaps I should go back below and sleep this off.

  Before I could implement my plan, I staggered as the deck pitched from a violent set of waves. I staggered back toward Asterion and grabbed the rail to keep from falling overboard.

  “This is no mere ill luck,” Asterion shouted at my back. “This has the smell of magic.”

  I turned, although I kept a hand on the rail. “What does that possibly have to do with me?”

  He glanced at my belted dagger, and then I understood the thrust of his thoughts. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. How could he know?

  Asterion suspected the Dark One had consecrated my fallen-star blade. Did that mean it was an ill deed to slay the acolyte of the strange god? No, no, how could that be? The acolyte brought strange ways and a strange religion to the land Canaan. That was the evil.

  Lightning rent the sky. Savage thunder boomed around us.

  All aboard cowered, including me.

  If felt as if the sounds reverberated throughout the ship like aftershocks. The crew and few passengers stared at Asterion in dread.

  He pointed at me. “You’ve brought the storm upon us. The gods are angry, as they detest magic.”

  “Are you mad? I serve the Sea King, and I serve the one who serves Knossos. It isn’t possible the gods of the sea are angry at me or us.”

  “Not the sea, you fool. I’m talking about the wind, the sky god.”

  Despite the rumble in my gut and the swaying deck, I glared angrily at Asterion. “Be careful who you call a fool.”

  “This is my ship.”

  “Be careful who you call a fool.”

  We locked gazes, our wills striving against the other as the wind howled around us and as the deck pitched under our feet.

  Asterion looked away and nodded. “If it’s not you…who could it be?”

  “How could I possibly know that?” I asked.

  The cargo master, who’d been eavesdropping even though he stood several steps from us, rushed forward. “I’ll you who, Captain. He’s responsible for the ill wind.” The cargo master pointed at me.

  I was tired of threatening. In one swift move, I turned and clutched the cargo master by the throat. I applied considerable pressure and I shoved him, releasing.

  He staggered and tripped over his feet, falling onto his arse.

  “Be careful what you say or I’ll kill you,” I said between clenched teeth.

  The watching crew looked at him and then the captain. Did that give Asterion willpower? Or did he fear to look weak before his people? Either way, his spine stiffened.

  “How dare you touch my cargo master,” Asterion said, although he wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  The two ship warriors stepped nearer, each with a spear in hand. Their faces were set and their knuckles white. They meant to fight me. Blood would run: a bad thing in an evil storm.

  Inspiration struck. “We must draw lots,” I shouted. “How can we know who’s responsible for this? We’re mortal men. Pray to your gods. The gods will tell us, letting the lot fall to the evildoer.”

  Asterion finally looked into my eyes. “You’ll agree to do whatever the lots reveal?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  Then I remembered that some sea-traders were notorious for their dishonesty and sleight of hand. Asterion could possibly be one of these.

  I pointed at the taller of the two ship warriors, the stupider-looking fellow. “He’ll shake the helmet with the lots. We’ll each pick a lot from the helmet. The one who picks up the marked lot is the one responsible for the storm.”

  Asterion had already been reaching for dice he kept in his waistband. “That isn’t how we’re going to do it. We’ll roll dice.”

  I shook my head and laughed as lightning rent the sky. Thunder boomed. The weakness I’d felt after the battle vanished utterly as power filled me.

  Did I feel the call of the Minotaur from the Isle of Crete as he watched from deep under the palace of Knossos? Perhaps it was the vigor of being a warrior and having been victorious. The savage elements merely matched my mood.

  “No dice,” I said. “We’ll draw lots from the helmet. First, we must mark the lots. You,” I pointed at the taller ship-warrior. “Take off your helmet. We’ll use it.”

  The warrior looked at Asterion.

  For the moment, Asterion couldn’t return my gaze, as he strove against the storm with his all-important tiller. It kept the tub of a merchant ship aimed against the crashing waves. Otherwise, if they struck the side of the ship, the waves might swamp us.

  Finally, spent perhaps, Asterion looked at us waiting for him. He nodded wearily. “Yes, we’ll draw lots as you say.”

  We collected various lots, small colored stones in this case. I lifted the single white one for all to see.

  “This is the unlucky lot,” I said.

  The others stared at it, some with fear.

  I tossed it into the helmet with the other lots. The tall warrior shook the helmet and raised it high, the open end up.

  The storm raged, the sea tossed and ship timbers groaned as the deck heaved this way and that.

  One by one, the crew filed to the warrior, reaching into the upended helmet, feeling within and randomly taking a lot. Asterion, the cargo master, passengers and I stepped to the warrior, reached within the helmet and took a lot.

  With relief, I saw that mine was a black stone. I immediately showed it to the others and could see the dissatisfaction in many eyes.

  The richest among us, an older man with a gray beard, rich linens and a purple cloak, reached into the helmet and withdrew a lot. He looked at it and attempted to toss it back into the helmet before anyone else could notice.

  “No,” I said.

  The other warrior must have been waiting for something like that. He grabbed the passenger’s hand, forcing it out even as the man attempted to toss the lot back into the helmet.

  The tall warrior holding the helmet saw this and jerked the helmet away.

  The rich passenger who’d paid for passage tossed the white lot onto the deck. It rolled from him and came to a stop.

  We stared at him while he stared at the ill lot.

  “No, no,” he said, looking up at us. “That wasn’t my lot. I picked a different one. That one rolled out of the helmet.” He focused on Asterion. “If you let them do this, you’re a thief attempting to steal my wares, my wealth. This is an outrage. You know I’m not—”

  “Silence!” the cargo master thundered. “We’ve prayed to the gods. The gods have seen. You’ve done something outrageous to anger them.”

  “I’ve done nothing,” the rich man said. “I’m an honest man, an honest merchant. You know that’s true. I demand we redraw lots.”

  Asterion shook his head, looking away.

  “No!” the rich man shouted.

  The two ship warriors grabbed his arms.

  “No!” the merchant howled. “You can’t do this. I’m innocent. It is him! Damon is guilty. You all said so yourselves. We all agreed to throw Damon overboard because he’s tainted by evil magic.”

  I put my hand on the hilt of my dagger, ready to draw and cut his throat.

  “Don’t do it,” Asterion told me. “We’ve drawn lots and the gods have decreed. He’s guilty. Are you ready for your fate?”

  “No,” the rich man shouted, struggling against the two warriors holding him. “You can’t do this. I paid for passage.”

  “Better one man dies, than all of us,” the cargo master said.