Page 69 of Odette's Vow

Though what that chance would be, I had no idea. Freedom from the vow I had originally made? Just another form of enslavement under a different guise? Redemption, for both of us? I had no way of knowing.

I remembered Aeolus’ warning, his eyes seeming to gleam with mischief at me. What was it he had said?“Do not use the west wind.”As if he knew my vow,my wind, whispered across the ocean and could blow us off course. As if this wind could lend my words its power.

I carefully unthreaded the cord, the wisp of fabric almost deafeningly loud in the quiet of the cabin. I stopped, watching Odysseus and the rise and fall of his chest. Slow, steady, asleep.

I thumbed at the opening of the bag and a plume of air escaped, a faint breeze that carried the scent of distant lands and endless possibilities. It swirled around me before it slipped under the cabin door and out into the wide world beyond.

I glanced back at Odysseus, his rugged face still peaceful in sleep. He would hate me for this if he knew, but it was too late to change course now. Already I could feel the wave patterns beneath us begin to shift. I only hoped it would lead us somewhere – anywhere – other than Ithaca.

Come the morning, our course had shifted with the newfound wind, and I woke from a guilt-ridden poor sleep to the murmurs of the men outside the cabin, their voices filled with confusion and worry. Slipping quietly out the door, I made my way up to the main deck and saw Odysseus standing at the helm, his face set in grim determination as his eyes swept over the men gathered in uneasy clusters.

“Who opened the bag?” he demanded.

That voice – clear as a bell, yet deep and wooden – reminded me of all those moons ago when he’d found me wandering the Grecian camp. I’d been scared then, a powerless farmer’s wife who had no idea what to expect. I’d done a lot since then: dined with Greek kings and held my own in conversation, defeated the demons of my mind, stood toe-to-toe against the man in front of me, killed another, tasted power –true power– and yet, here I was, terrified again, my heart a wild staccato beat against my ribcage.

If he were to find out it was me …

I watched as Odysseus paced back and forth, his eyes flashing with rage as he assessed the crew. I had never seen him so angrybefore. Calm, calculated in his fury, yes – but never like this. The men cowered before him.

“It was supposed to be our salvation,” he growled. “Now, thanks to one of you, we're back to where we started. Who is responsible for this treachery?”

The men remained silent, their heads bowed in shame. I could see the tension in their shoulders, the way their hands fidgeted at their sides. They were terrified, and rightfully so. Odysseus’ rage demanded attention, the force of its nature a battering ram to everyone’s defences.

He seized one of the men by the collar, dragging him forward. “Was it you?” he demanded.

The man shook his head frantically, his eyes wide with terror. “It wasn’t me, my lord,” he stammered. “I swear it.”

Odysseus released him with a shove, turning his attention to another man. “And you? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

The second man shook his head as well, his voice trembling as he spoke. “No, my lord. I had nothing to do with it.”

And though the morning sun still reflected off the ocean, the temperature dropped as Odysseus looked out across the deck. “Cowards, the lot of you!” he proclaimed. “All too afraid to admit your mistake, and too weak to take responsibility for your actions.”

I shrank back further into the shadows as Odysseus’ footsteps clipped against the deck and back towards the cabin, towards me.

Just then, the ship lurched, and we all looked towards the horizon. In the haze of the morning mist, the silhouette of an island loomed. As we drew closer, and the men scrambled to adjust the sails to prepare for landing, I went to stand at the bow of the ship, gripping the wooden railing to get a better look. The haze gave way to what could only be described as a lushparadise, the dense forests cloaking the island in a mantle of green.

“What is this place?”

Odysseus came to stand behind me, his arms wrapping around either side of me, as his hands also gripped the railing.

I turned my chin to look at him, surprised at the closeness, but his eyes were studying the island. “I do not know.”

As he said that, for some reason unbeknownst to me a chill ran down my spine.

Eventually the ship came to a stop on the shore, and when we disembarked onto soft, lush grass with the faintest smell of fresh, recently watered earth, I felt a pulse, a beat, as if we had just alerted someone to our presence.

Some of the men, eager to prove their loyalty, or perhaps to lessen Odysseus’ anger towards them, decided to go ahead and scout for food and shelter. The place was rich with the scent of pines and wildflowers. We could even see wide meadows that stretched out under the clear, azure sky, and I could hear the insects buzzing – a network of nature at work. There would surely be a freshwater source and at the very least, fresh fruit for us to graze on. After all, there was still plenty of food from Aeolus stored on the ships.

Yet, hours passed and still the men did not return. There would be only hours left again before the world went dark. Anxiousness wrapped itself like an old coat around those of us left behind.

Even Odysseus’ concern grew palpable, until he eventually said, “I’ll go find them. Sit tight.”

He stalked off into the forest, the dense foliage swallowing him whole until there was nothing left to do but wait.

The dimmer the day got, the more time dragged on, the more paranoid I became that someone, or something, was watchingus. There were only three guards left, and the women were but a small group of twelve, so easily outnumbered.

That’s when I noticed the eyes watching us from the bushes. Several pairs of glowing amber eyes.

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